Multiverse Crisis MUSH - User contributions [en]

5485/Masks and Bullets and Death, Oh My

2017-09-22T15:42:38Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/09/15 |Location=Overwatch Earth <OWE> |Synopsis=Reaper and Nicky discuss her growth in Talon |Cast of Characters=1115, 968 |pretty=yes }} {{Po..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/09/15
|Location=Overwatch Earth <OWE>
|Synopsis=Reaper and Nicky discuss her growth in Talon
|Cast of Characters=1115, 968
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' It'd been a few weeks since Nicky was properly 'indoctrinated' into the Talon way of life. Given her own room in the barracks - small, but adequate for personal needs. It wasn't like Talon soldiers and specialists spent a lot of down time in the base anyways. They were expected to be off base to find their pleasures and stress relief - then get back on site as soon as possible. For all else that it was, a terrorist organization or a private military force, Reaper's experience leant itself to operational management. He may be an asshole, and a jackass, and a death obsessed soul-eating wrath.. but he could still run an Op like a professional. Tight as a bolt. Now? Now Nicky receives an entirely new summons, her standard military training regime interrupted and wiped from her schedule. Only a single meeting to occupy her entire time, the end left open, with no future appointments showing up on her calendar. Either Nicky's being kicked out, Nickys being promoted, or Nicky getting shot in the back of the head and dropped in an incinerator somewhere. It didn't pay to disregard personal safety in Talon, everyone expected to be on their game while they were 'on the clock'. Eventually a person learns how to manage that stress and becomes harder for it - or they crack. And if they crack here, they'll crack out there, goes the motto. The meeting room itself is broad, with three exits. One leading to the main hallway, the other two leading to unknown areas, the entire thing carved rough hewn from the hard rock, with wide arching ceiling and dull floors. Dull because of the grip lines cut in, to keep people from slipping in case of 'events'. The oblong table is already lit up with a holoprojector, casting blue tint to the mingle with the white lights above, and at its head stands .. Reaper. Standing as is his nature, arms crossed over his chest, that sterile white mask netiher looking right or left. Honestly he could be asleep on his feet and no one would know, save for the faint tap of his heavy metal boot upon the gripping tile work. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Having spend time with Talon, Nicky attends the meeting prepared in some... rather unconvential manners. Of course, the standard issiue knife is loose in the sheath along the left forearm, just waiting for the right impulse to drop it into the hand ready, and there is a backup one along her belt, but the actual preparation was a bit more insidious: the inside of her jacket line six hand grenades 'borrowed' off the training range and their rings all connected to get dragged out under the right pull. Ring Trick. As she gets into the room, Nicky eyes around, right hand on the belt, left in the pocket, and peering at the black clad figure. "You called?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A hiss of breath through the mask, coils of black smoke lifting from the Reaper's shoulders as that sterile white mask turns minutely. Studying the newest 'agent' with silence interest, noting the changes in her demeanor - in her method of acting. The survivalist was still there, but Nicky was starting to get an -edge- to her. It was a promising start. Reaper's crossed arms finally drop, reaching down to tap at the table with metal claws. The holoprojector switching from idle mode to three distinct lists, each of them with Nicky's image and name at the top. "I did." He growls. And he's always growling; Celebration, loss, victory, defeat, he snarls as if he were permanently pissed at the world and waiting hair's breath from murdering everyone around him. Or if he was on the edge of a pained scream. "You've completed your basic regime of training, Nicky - but now it's time to move beyond that. I didn't bring you to our organization for you to languish as infantry. Nor to watch your ambition squandered. If I wanted to waste your flesh I would've eaten it a long time ago." A nod towards the holoprojector, and the various 'specializations'. "It's time to get -your- input on your future." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky eyes the schedules... files... and tries to make out their meaning as fast as she can - reaper's not known too much for liking slow answers. "Ok, my input... what kind of input? Would be much easier to know what you want of me, Reaper." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A low growl from the Reaper, leaning forward on his metal knuckles at the head of the table. That cowled head turning slightly as he lifts an arm to tap a few times - the holodocuments folding flat to the table and sliding across to Nicky. Still just projections, but the effect is to give the impression of private and intimate review. "Your missions. Based on my analysis of your behaviors during simulations, you tend to avoid direct confrontation. Your abilities are more designed towards infil/exfil work, much akin to Sombra's, but without her unique talent set and technological edge. The latter can be fixed - the former cannot, so your work will be more.." A slow, dark chuckle. "Hands on." A gesture of metal claws. "Before you are three distinct training paths designed to fit your abilities. And to further hone your capabilities. You'll also need to designate a callsign.. Or have one designated for you." A pause. "The generator is supposed to be random; But with Sombra in play, I can guarantee if you let it pick your callsign, it won't be pleasant." Always trust the neon-haired calavera crazed hacker to toy with -everything-. Make that assumption, Reaper had found, and you wouldn't be caught off guard. The files indicate specialties that are designed to fit Nicky's personality profile. From something akin to a Ranger - infiltration, recon-scout work, and so forth. Something more along the lines of in-range heavy hitter, rapid breach and clear. And then a saboteur, emphasis on explosives and indirect combat rather than head to head confrontation, with side notes towards sniper work and more archaic weaponry for a wider breadth. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky says, "You never had me tested against proper alarms." Nicky replies, pointing out a flaw in his testing. "So you want me to look through those plans or something and decide? And If I remember correctly, it's unlucky to choose your own callsign..."" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You'll have your chance to go against a proper alarm once you've picked which direction you'll take your training. You've a mission waiting depending on the outcome." Snarls the Reaper, coils of smoke rising once more from his shoulders and cowl, as if the man burned from the inside out. Which is entirely possible. He reaches up, drawing metal claws along his own sterile mask for a moment, breath hissing; Slowly, that smoke dissipates once more, until he's as solid as anything else in the room. "Yes. I can draw profiles all day; Sombra can review the footage and plot datalines, but it's a waste of her talent. At the end of the day, -you- know yourself better than I do. Although if you keep pissing me off, I'll know your insides better than you do." He snaps, his usual temper. A dark chuckle now at the mention of luck. "Let me tell you a few things about -fortune-, Nicky.." He begins, and then pauses. Tilting his head. "Mm. Fortune." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Fortune? She's a fickle bitch that isn't kind to those that deserve it once in a while. If you want to be lucky, you have to make it on your own. Prepare for everything, count on yourself, and shove Fortuna her 'luck' up where the sun don't shine." Nicky rants, her fingers clenched into a fist. Sticking out a finger, she points to Reaper finally. "If Fortune would have been kind, she would have allowed you to not come back, don't you think that? But no, she threw you the once in a lifetime chance for tormented existance... and made you win the hard lot." So much Nicky could piece together. "But there's a difference: you stay because of your revenge. I stay because I survive. In the end of the day, your revenge will have no targets anymore - but I still wrench what I need from the dog's grasp to stay." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "My -revenge- is my own business." Growls the Reaper, metal gauntlets creaking as he curls them inwards. "Talon's is not." The burning hate slips out of his voice for a moment, that dark chuckle working its way from his rasping throat once more. Slow and methodical, as if he had to consider each 'mua' before it could be shaken loose. "A fickle bitch, unkind even to those who deserve better. You couldn't ask for a better callsign.. Fortune." HA And then metal claws spread once more upon the table, the sterile white mask tilting to peer down at the three programs presented to Nicky. With a snarled: "Now.. pick." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Oh Fortuna, Velunt luna, Statu Variabilis... Carl Orff's Carmina Burana." Nicky elaborates a moment, then sighs as she pulls the folders from the air, turning them around, then once more stacking them and trying to skim through the data given in them. "Pick what? I mean, you told me these are possible paths, but what paths? I read the titles, but you want me to pick, so you know what you put into them. Mind giving me a rundown so I can pick?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' ".. Reading comprehension, next." Snarls the bone masked killer, before he taps on the table a few times. One of the holo-folders glowing and lighting up. "Recon and scouting. Emphasis on infil and exfil, target elimination slash acquisition, specializing in medium range weapons fire." A second tap. "Infililration, breach and clear specialist. Fast, heavy hitting, rapid clear. Emphasis on combat expertise and assymetric assault." A final tap. ".. Saboteur, emphasis on indirect combat rather than head-to-head confrontation. Explosives and broad spectrum weapon training, especially for more archaic capabilities. They've been proved in the field as surprisingly effective." "All three are designed around the concept of getting where you're not supposed to be, Fortune." HA! Using it already! "The only real question is - how hard do you want to go?" 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Fortuna's the incarnate of fortune." Nicky replies, stretching her fingers and arms at the same time, letting some fingers crack. "So you say I got the chance to... uhm... be a sniper, on a strike team or do what i can already to a large part? I mean, you never even let me get some nice hunting bow or crossbow. Why did I pick the arrows on the island you think? just never came around to grab a bow." A moment she is silent, then wipes two folders away, leaving the last one on the table. "Question is possibly more how hard you'll make it for me, right?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "As hard as I need to be to make sure you survive - or crack, and stop wasting my time." Hisses the Lord of the Edge once more, finally moving forward; And just to show off, he doesn't bother walking around the table. His botto half simply dissolves, his features lost in a smokey haze that's vaguely human shaped before it reforms, a hiss of iron fillings down silk. MUCH closer. Just so he can loom, the coils of smoke still slowly rising from along the edges of his cowl, from the edges of his mask. Fire within, smoke without. "I didn't -let- you have anything on the island. I didn't help you. I didn't assist you. I gave you nothing but a ride. Everything you did there, you did on your own." He snarls, sounding as if he's either threatening or complimenting her. Honestly, with Gabe, it's hard to tell sometimes. "And yes. IF you survive; IF you make it through. IF you prove that I'm still able to sniff out raw potential even now, then you'll grow stronger. Faster. Harder. And you'll be on a proper strike team, rather than guarding halls or doing labor work like the infantry. Everything has its cost in pain; The only question is how badly you want to be more. You're not the scared little girl running from her killers anymore.." A tilt of the head. "And you're not the thief stealing sweets to survive. You're on your way to something -new-.. Fortuna." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Never said you did." Nicky replies, a grin on her face as she ever so slightly opens the jacket, just enough to show a hint to the grenades she stuffed under it. "You didn't let me have these either..." If there was one thing Nicky learned, it was that Gabe didn't react to buttering up. But a bunch of grenades as a dead-man-switch? That would be something new. "Sweets? that was Sombra's fault!" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A slow, dark chuckle as she reveals the grenades beneath her jacket. "O Fortuna." He says, before his mask lowers just a tad. That black, coiling smoke hissing out from beneath his mask. "You're going to have to think up something else to take on -me-. The first trick I learned was coming back from the dead. Although it would have ruined the room." Although curiously enough, despite the snarling, sniggering sarcasm - he actually claps his cold, metal gauntlets together. Once. Twice. .... Thrice. "Sombra can't be responsible for everything." The mask turns, sterile white towards the nearest camera. "...No matter what she thinks" And then that mask goes back towards Nicky, thick arms crossing over his chest. Sounding - bored, suddenly. "Make your selection. And we'll start focusing you towards something more useful." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky chuckles as she points to the table, where she had planted the one digital folder only a minute ago, the other two pushed to the side. "Told you already, didn't I?" Indeed, there's the last folder floating still. "So, when do you shedule my lessons in blowing up machines?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Machines? Cute." Begins the Reaper, his voice dropping an octave to damn near a rasping purr. The other two holofolders dissolving, encrypted and then erased bit by bit until nothing remains. Nicky's profile blotting out as well, leaving her name simply as 'Fortuna'. No link to the past left, save in her own head. "Your mission is in five days. You'll take your first lesson with our demolition team this evening, then be expected to be competent enough to complete simple pre-set by the third day. Tomorrow you meet your first team - and start training together." That's an -extremely- forced pace for a new curve, isn't it? "Complete the mission, and we'll start working on designing your own ordinance, improvisational explosives, and broad-spectrum weapons training. Then we start on your -weakness-.." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky quirks an eyebrow on the schedule, grabbing for the folder to try to read up on the details of it. "3 days to learn how to use this one bomb and 4 with a team? I hope they know how to stick to the plan..." she replies as she flips through the digital pages. "own ordanance? you mean like some weapon designed for me or something?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Among other things. You'll need time with the Talon surgical team as well, to determine if there are any.. upgrades necessary to bring you into alignment with our expectations, later. You are already more than human - time to make the best of it." And then a shift of his hips, that dark menace in his voice rasping into a darker chuckle. "I expect you to pick up the simple stick and pull within the first few hours. The rest is learning -when- to use your payload, and on what. And when -not- to use the payload. Consider it a crash course. If you screw it up, you might end up bringing everything down on your head - or worse, failing. Finish the mission, and then we'll look at a proper training for identifying structural weakness in materials.. bones included." He turns his head at last, that sterile white mask focusing again on Nicky. "Among other things." He answers, in the question about her own ordinance. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "The rest of your training regime between your team and your demolitions will be with ... -me-. And anyone else I choose. There will be a time when you cannot run. When you cannot dodge. When you cannot cut loose, avoid, deflect, or flee. I expect you to be able to kill.. Not just willing. Able too, competently and quickly." A soft hiss. ".. And you can't kill a dead man." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "You don't look nearly dead enough to be really dead to me." Nicky rebounds, chuffing a moment as she looks up from the file, trying to get at least some info from the heavily blackened file. Team he had said, and there are some lines refering to the specialists... one... two... at least two different names might be used in the file, but that was just judging from the length of them. Then there was something about the target, but most things that could help to identify it were... blackend. "Just probably got to find the right thing to off you. Wouldn't be the first 'unkillable' enemy that had some hidden weakpoint that could be exploited for a kill." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "I ... am the Angel of Death. There is nothing that can stop my stride upon these worlds. Better mortals than you have tried; Better mortals than you have died." Hisses Reaper darkly, the smoke coiling upwards from his shoulders again. Metal gauntlets creak once more as he squeezes his hands within, before he moves behind Nicky to either review the file over her shoulder or simply to loom. Those broad arms crossing once again over his thick chest, the white mask half hidden by the cowl of his jacket. "Saboteur, then? An expected choice. Although I wonder just how much damage your other form can take before .. termination." That word is tasted with something approaching a dark chuckle, before his hand swipes again. "Something the surgeons can estimate. Were there any other questions you had before I set your schedule in stone?" 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky tries to concentrate on the file, her fingers flipping holographic pages as she tries to memorize as much as is not blackened and makes sense. "You did expect any of the choices, didn't you?" She answers without looking up or behind her, but she seems slightly unnerved from the statement about termination. "As long as someone sews it back together... a lot. Don't ask how I know that." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "I expected some more than others. I would have been mildly surprised had you picked direct, heavy weapons assault over indirect action; It would've shown a sharper bloodlust than I anticipated." Begins the Reaper, reaching over Nicky's shoulder to press his thumb against the corner of the page. His metal claw thumb, with the gloved undersuit. Before one can even begin questioning the logic of this, there is a quiet flicker before black begins receeding from the details. Of course, 'Fortuna' is still blacked out, as are her 'team-mates'. Both from the Island, in point of fact, the survivors. "I assume from someone failing to finish you off." He hisses, with that rasping, menacing voice, before his heavy metal boots are moving back towards the other side of the table. "You're on strike lead for the mission. If it doesn't get taken from you by one of the others. I would take time to look over the assets at your disposal.. -carefully-." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky sighs as Reaper's suspicion actually is pretty far off - it was a kid that ripped off an arm of her stuff shape and then its mom fixing it as she had hidden in their residence for a heist. "So, who's the team besides me? These docs say I get at least two from the reference to a him and a her, and seeing only one vessel for in, I assume a max of five. And the file doesn't exactly include dossiers on the other 'assets'." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The assets? Well, that should be obvious. Astrafel - and the Jons. Jon the Sister, her flesh marred by cybernetic grafts to replace what the massive bird had ripped from her. And Jon the Brother, scarred and slightly heavier than the last time Nicky had seen him. One ally - two enemies. At least, enemies back on the Island, when they had joined with the Betrayed. Who may - even now - still be surviving, waiting for the next batch of recruits so she can come back to the fold. After all, the rules only specified that the people with the relics get a ride out. It didn't say you had to be with the group that arrived. "You should be familiar with the other three of your team already; You tried to leave two of them for dead." A beat. "We do not keep detailed ability dossiers. That was Overwatch's screwup; I expect team leaders to know their assets, or to learn them, and be able to recommend the right talents for the job." What, you thought being a strike leader would be easy? "Your demolitions trainers will show you the payload. The master of arms will help determine your load out. But all the decisions - everything that's going to let you walk out of there alive - is going to be on you." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Correction: they teamed up with Sha but they made it to the beach in time. It was her who had planned to kill them, should she need a relic for herself." Nicky retorts, her finger pointing to the blurry pictures of the two Jons. "Can't say I had seen much of their performance. The cyber though looks fresh. Probably enhanced strength and durability... Astrafel I know is pretty agile and wasn't too bad with a pistol on the range." "Well, I guess that's all I have to work with, right?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You'll have your training with them for the next three days." States the Reaper, almost pleased at the difficult situation he's put her in. As for their choice in following Sha? Well, he doesn't say anything more on that. Someone had to lose in that game; In fact, many people lost - Their lives. "You'll have time to learn what they can do - and how to control them. Or you won't, you'll fail, and someone better will be in charge." He brings up another relay on his side, the text blotted from the rear to avoid anyone reading it backwards as he taps a few times. "You've been scheduled for the surgical review later today. After that, your first session with the demolitions trainers. In the morning you meet your team, and decide on field excercises. I can -advise-.." The word is practically ground out ".. but until you fail or one of your 'teammates' seizes control, it's your responsibility. A full intel packet on the target will be available before lights out - Your quarters are authorized to ignore curfew. For now. You're not going to get a lot of sleep tonight." "Welcome to the joys of specialization." He purrs, in that dark and menacing rasp. 
}}

5430/Competitive Survival Training - Aka, Beach Time

2017-08-14T20:06:55Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/08/08 |Location=The Great Ocean |Synopsis=Nicky goes through her final crucible to join Talon, after weeks of training as a recruit. Twelve wa..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/08/08
|Location=The Great Ocean
|Synopsis=Nicky goes through her final crucible to join Talon, after weeks of training as a recruit. Twelve walk in, Four come out.

Also, Beach scene!
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117, 968
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:'''     The sand is white and soft as powdered sugar, too thin to build castles, too loose to allow much traction. Punctuated here and there by the coarse sea-orange coral spines waiting the unwary foot to snag and trip. The waters are warm and bright blue, flowing off to a deep green as the beach drops away - while in the other direction, roaming vines from the untamed jungle curls along the edge of the sand, leading one deeper into the sweltering, dark place. Rocky formations create natural arcs, caves, plateaus and other such vistas, while here and there ancient stone structures intermingle with modern construction - all abandoned, all boarded up. This is a place for adventure - this is a place for excitement. But most importantly, this is a place to survive. Five talon transports stir up the water into froth as they zip down low to avoid radar detection by a matter of course; Reflective panels keeping their profile to nothing more than a faint shimmer. In each transport is a screen, save for one. THAT one has Reaper. One hand over his head as he grips the holds, the rest of the cargo filled with Talon Recruits. Youth, some of them masked, roused from bed and allowed to grab whatever they could get their hands on as they're being herded out. A few are in nothing more than undersuits. Nicky is among their number, if she choose to stay at the Talon barracks - given free reign to come and go as she pleased, thanks to her 'status'. If she didn't choose to stay, then a special trip was taken to pick her up, without word given as to why. The transports lift into the air as Reaper speaks, the entire machine shuddering as his voice is repeated. "Recruits. Welcome to competetive survival training." He growls, his raspy throat rattling with some alien machination. "As the name suggests.. not all of you will make it. Below us is Garner's Isle, an abandoned archaelogical site and briefly a military forward point. Hidden in the isle itself are four relics - there are twelve of you." He pauses to let that sink in. "Your job is two fold; Recover and secure -a- relic, then signal for exfil. And survive the natural hazards - and the unnatural hazards. Only those with relics will be given transport off the island, the rest will be considered unrecoverable. There are no other rules." The doors to the transport swing open, air whipping inside and stirring up Reaper's cowl. "Secure your fast drop cables, -now-. This transport is going vertical in thirty seconds." A clawed hand pointing towards jingling climber's gear connected to winches, hanging from the side of the open doors on either side of the transports. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Well, if a beach isn't good enough for building castles, then it's good for something else, right?     Out of one of the transports another Talon agent exits, clad for the lighter weather in shorts, tops and with sunglasses on. Because she sure as heck isn't going into the forest herself, no. Her job is to monitor and keep an eye on them, and with the tech that each recruit has been fitted with, she can do that from here. So Sombra walks out with a parasol, a beach chair and sets it all down before getting comfortable. Pardon her, if she's going to monitor all these new people, she might as well be comfortable, right? Right.     As she sips a drink she brings up screens, one for each of the recruits, along with the vital monitoring. There, now this should be easy.     She will let Reaper explain all of it however. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' While Nicky might have some status, keeping a flat costs money - and between the training there is little to no chance to go freelance. However, Nicky is not among those that trust easily, especially not those prospect recruits, and thus slept with a knife under the pillow. After all, some of those might be uncultivated testosterone bags and search for a chance to vent. Precautions stack, so while she had little more than the knife and the standard issiue training usiform with her, she was at possibly far better of than the redhead in his undies clinging to the handle right next to her. The mission briefing speaking of 'not all will make it' made Nicky look around the transport chamber, silently pulling out the blade from its sheeth as she moved backwards and towards the still closed, left door. A glance goes back to the two others still watching the briefing with all attention, then her eyes focus on the rattling winches and with a quick row of swipes, all of the lines are severed. If it is just out, she won't need them - and she earns the big, panicked eyes of the redhead as the two turn around to see their rapelling lines in pretty bad shape. "See you later... or not." Nicky said as she threw herself out of the swooping down transport, having grabbed one of the harnesses and the attatched piece of severed line with her right as the knife was still in her left. Gravity got the young woman, pulling her down mercylessly while from the other transports the rest started to disembark on the ropes. Wind tugged at her clothing as she sped ahead of some of most others, forcing the knife back into its sheeth against the drag. Only some five meters above ground her form vanished in a cloud that continiued to move downwards the moment it existed, before collapsing into a sand colored fox immitation with huge ears. A Vulpes Zerda stuffie... or Fennec. Impacting on the soft sand, it bounced up twice, the eyes wincing, but at least it was softening the impact down... and there were no bones to break. Still, it was disorienting a moment. As Nicky got back all her senses she immideately plopped back into a cloud and then her human self again, getting to her feet and slipping the rapellign harness over. It only took two seconds but she managed to finish just before the first one was touching down. One glance over the beach, then she moved for the shoreline, where the waves kept the sand wet and compacted, as fast as it allowed. Her path was to get to the rocks that lined out to the sea, hopefully speeding up her way away from the others and towards one of the buildings. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' When Nicky begins making her way towards the rappeling lines, the Reaper doesn't halt his litany of instructions - in point of fact, he doesn't even acknowledge that she moved while the other two are listening and fidgeting. The red head with the pajama suit, doing his best to try and keep his hands at his side and ignore the fact he was caught - almost literally - with his pants down. His eye twitching occasionally as he keeps siddling glances at the girl that was on the transport with them - the one with 'Sharaseth' written over her heart. Busy smearing boot polish under her eyes, even as she listens with the grim intent of a young woman who intends to be -the- survivor. The name tag over his own breast read 'Finbar' - no last name. No rank, only the faintest hint of the Talon insignia at the shoulders. Finbar sucks in another breath, looking to the side as the ship opens - just to watch Nicky leap out after slicing all the lines. Behind her comes a shout of disbelief and youthful anger.. The touch down isn't as smooth as it would've been with the hot-drop lines, but Nicky had practice on those before enough - not to mention the soft powder and lack of bones makes her descent speed a lot quicker. Always given special compensation, always in the 'special' spot. In the Reaper's eye socket, as it were. Hell, she even got paid a modest fee for her 'participation', as did all the recuits. Provided they could hack it through the pressure boiler of Talon training. Only the best. ONLY the best. Physical and mental and willful. Other groups touch down as well, and it's already clear that some cliches are forming. Youth landing in formation, already triangling off against the other groups. Some lone wolves following Nicky's suit and running headlong and away from the small fights breaking out on the beach. A scream of panic from above, and a -thud- as a body hits the sand - moaning. Someone else had Nicky's idea too, on that flight. Thirty seconds to the dot, the transports above flip themselves sideways, turning their floors into walls - two more youth fall out of Nicky's flight. Thud. Thud. The second one crawling back to her feet, glaring towards Nicky as she wipes blood from her mouth. Shouting unheard over the whine of engines powering up before stealth technology kicks in - the rustle of wind as they rise up and depart. Somoene's got a revenge to take. "Sombra." Comes Reaper's voice over the comms, as his own transport rights itself and he's able to release his grip on the roof handle. "Are the cameras online? I'll need coords on the injured.. " He snarls. How disparate, to see the young woman curling up on the beach, while nearby youth thud and blood splatters the wet sand. "And -focus-." The building that Nicky runs towards is another run-down sand stone house of some sort, bland in its geometry. But modern carpentry shows in the door hinges drilled through some ancient ancestor's hard work, though the wooden door itself has started to rot with the ocean spray. Sun-blocking slant-tents flutter in the salty breeze, the interior almost too dark to make out - save for a hollow in the middle, made with modern tools, roughly carved into the stone floor and into the hill itself. Is it worth taking time to root within? 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky had not the strength in numbers. She didn't had the equipment advantage either, as she thought to have seen at least one firearm in the left group that triangulated the beach before going into the fight. Could have been a Bo or polearm though, as she made her best to clear the immediate area. Moving up the slope, she tied the piece of rope she had taken with her into a short belt, keeping her path on harder terrrain whenever possible. Less tracks and faster pace. As she reached the archaeological site - at least it looked like one - she stopped to listen to the sounds around, holding the breath and eying the path she came. Only as she couldn't spot an immediate follower, she leaned against the door, testing its strength and makeup before kicking into it. Not at the lock, but about a quarter of the door's width on the lock side, to allow the wood to break, before slipping in and checking if there was an artifact here... This was not the time to set up base, this was tiem to quickly scan and run. There was a whole island to scout - before others found their items. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Sombra leans back as she hears Reaper's voice on the comms, sighing as she taps the screens. "Of course they are online. I have the island outfitted with cameras all over, there is nowhere they can go without me knowing where they are," she responds calmly. "Injured at 23, 65. 24, 59. 31, 42..."     Another sip of her drink, and Sombra stretches. "And I /am/ focusing, Gabe. I can relax while working, so...? Relajate, I'm not unfocused. You should get down here later, some sun might be good for you." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The sound of the three youth immediatly put out of commission is barely heard over the rising wind as the sound of the transports dies away. And then that same sound is torn and staggered by the swell of the ocean. The whisper of the wind across the ancient stone hut, scraping slowly away at it with sand driven teeth while the universe about turns in silent witness. The door splinters easily beneath Nicky's blow, though it does leave a white scratch along her pants - definitely have to watch for splinters and infections, considering. The interior is still -muggy-, but at least there is some temperature drop with the shade. The hollow spot dug into the floor seems to have been a stash - rotting cots hanging from rotting wooden frames. Obviously designed so that whoever was here could sleep without their profile being easily seen from outside. There's also a small, square metal can in the corner, and the faint smell of petrol hanging about it. Either lighter fluid or gasoline, about two soup cans worth. The faint sound of voices again, slowly getting closer. Nicky had been -solid- about covering her tracks, so either it's unlucky or it's opportunity. "My name - is Reaper." Comes Reaper's voice over the comm again, with a growl, before he continues. "Let me know when the majority have cleared the beach. We'll collect them after dusk - if they survive the evening." A pause as he checks something on his end, before continuing. "Counter measures ready? You never did tell me what you 'borrowed' from our last mission.." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Voices are no good. Maybe coincidence or did the other team pack a tracker of some kind? Did she have been too loud? In any way, a fuel source was something welcome. Actually handy in more ways than just cooking a meal. Starting a fire was one way to send a signal after all or to fight of the night's cold. She estimated to have maybe a half minute at best before the followers would get here, and rushing in, she grabbed the can, then dashed for the stash. With a low PLOPP she misted away, the can vanishing with her human shape and moments later she condensed into a dark grey rhinoceros stuffie, rolling over the floor twice before she let herself fall into the stash-pit, hoping to fool the others that the dirty and slightly moldy plushie had been here for some time already. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "You keep on saying that, expecting things to change..." Sombra chuckles, glancing over the screens. "Most of them are off the beach now, and I will ensure that they don't stray back here, yes. As for what I borrowed...? Can't a girl keep her secrets now?"     Her eyes study the screens, how the recruits are doing... well, not too bad. Nicky ought to be promising in this training, if she's right. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "..way." Comes a familiar whispered voice. Sharaseth. The young woman, her lower face bruised from her subsequent tumble from the transport, is leading two other talon recruits. They've got an odd procession going on, with each one keeping an eye on the other as well as the area around them. They don't meander; They move, slipping from cover to cover, as if expecting something to open up fire at any moment despite the 'paradise' surrounding them. Sharaseth must be the luckiest person in the multiverse to miss any major injuries from that fall. One of the other recruits has a name over his breast as well - Wesley. Faint scars surrounding his knuckles and face above the breath mask despite his age, refusing to let anyone move behind him - always bringing up the tail. The second is Florian, with a pronounced limp. Yet despite this, they're keeping fairly good control over their horizon. "She wouldn't be stupid enough to stay near the drop point. We need to stop wasting time and go find three relics - one for each of us." "Or we can just destroy them all. I'm telling you, it's a test." Sharaseth the Betrayed raises a hand, halting the advance as the two Talon boys drop into cover again. Scanning the stone hut for a moment. Their search of it is fast and precise; One slips in, squatting to squint into the hole, before they all move on again. Combing forward, as the girl keeps speaking. "You know -he's- got his eye on her. I bet she -starts- with a relic." "Maybe we're on the wrong side." "Why else.." Her voice is taken as they continue forward. "Everything changes; For example.. in time, you'll all be dead." Comes the Lord of the Edge's growled retort over the radio, before he falls silent for a moment. Likely taking in the feed for himself before he speaks again. "Impress me." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The moment the lighting in the hut changes, when someone gets into the door, Nicky does her best to stay still and silent. Out of sight. And while the scout of Sharaseth's group very well might see her, she luckily is taken for just an discarded object, as planned. Only when the sounds of them ebb away, she plopps back, climbing out of the hole at once. The fuel can, she stores in one of her leg pockets, then she tries to figure out which treck her persuers took - to take a different path. Better not to enforce a confrontation, if you lack firepower. And again, off she went, parcouring through the rocky forest towards what looked like another arcaeological site... hopefully one with a relic. Would be nice to start with one like Sharaseth claimed... but no gifts here. Just because she had brought a knife... jeze... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Something that all the recruits should know is that somebody is listening to them all the time. As Sharaseth voices her theory, Sombra's calm voice speaks on the radio to the group as it travels through the area. "Now where would the fun be in that? Besides, if Mr. Reaper has his eye on somebody, it's usually much harder for them..." Gabe, playing favourites and making it /easy/ for them to win? HAH! As if. If he did something like that then she would take it as a sign that whatever had affected his face had spread inwards to his brains.     Well, some of the recruits are doing quite well, aren't they? It's going to be fun to see if there is a confrontation later on, she figures. But forcing it right now wouldn't do. Let's be a little nice and only set things up if they need to test the abilities of the recruits further. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The Betrayed girl pauses, touching at her walkie when Sombra's voice crackles over it. She frowns, but doesn't respond other than to turn the radio down to a whisper. Can't have THAT one giving her away. The other two look at each other, faint frowns crossing their features before they shake it off and move on towards the caves.. The trip to the next -obvious- dig site takes a ways, but fortunately Nicky's endurance training - the simple gym work that's the basis of everything to come - seems to be paying off. Though the sun has creeped further across the sky by the time she's made it to a much larger temple, with the same style shanties and lean-tos put in place - holes flapping loosely in the hot breeze, a sweltering heat that little offers refuge from. Even in the shade! Nicky's journey inside reveals a few prints of boots disturbing the dust; Someone had already been here. There's even a much more modern backpack setup just inside the door, with a small mouse-trap set in the flap. Well, rat-trap - designed to break the unwary finger that slides beneath the flap to check the contents. Which is a white, sealed can labeled 'Pure Water' and a survival pack of MRE. There are even a few old crossbow bolts tucked into a corner. But no youth to which the backpack belongs. Which is when the distant, paniced screaming starts. Smoke coalesces; Writhes in the hot beach sun, bubbling as it forms The Reaper. His heavy boots digging channels in the surf as he walks towards Sombra's beach-side location, the cowl on his head keeping the sun from his gaze. If the heat bothers him, he isn't showing it. Metal gauntlets flex, creaking, as the sterile white mask takes in Sombra's current layout. Sprawled in a beach chair, with the screens around her. And then his head turns up slowly at the distant, echoing scream. "Mm. Red dogs are out earlier than usual." He growls, before his gaze turns back to Sombra. ".. Status of the recruits?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Strangely enough, Sharaseth will find that Sombra's volume goes back up again. And when she speaks again, Sombra sound vaguely amused. "Nice try, chica." All of the tech on the island is under her control at the moment. When Sombra speaks, she will be heard. Make no mistake.     It's easy enough to hear Reaper arriving with the heavy footsteps in the sand. Lazing languidly, Sombra appears to be enjoying the warm weather, even amidst all the sounds and video images on the screens in front of her. Might be because she's closed her eyes. Several of the screens in front of her have gone black by now, which might answer Reaper's question. Even so, Sombra stretches a bit and shifts her legs as she responds. "Three fatalities so far, Gabe." Opening her eyes, she glances at the other screens. "Some injured, but if they are good enough they will pull through it. Your little favorito is sneaky, managed to avoid a group of three, she's just gotten to the temple. Another recruit is nearby and in trouble, so if she's careful she might be able to get away from there with some loot." Her drink is picked up, and she holds it out towards him.     "This is nice, you know. A little mini vacation. Better than Volskaya industries," she asides with a smirk. Even if that trip was rather beneficial to her. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Extra supplies were always good, and so Nicky snatched the backpack before retreating outside, not even taking the time to asset the contents of the backpack, let alone sticking a hand into it. Just as she reached the entry again, scanning over the surroundings for the possible owner, the sounds disturbed the heat of the day. Great, back on the move - better away from the sound, ad better upwards. Crossbow bolts were a good start... if she could find or make a decent weapon to fire them they would be useful against wildlife. And this was just like when her homeless career started: on the run from Purifiers... well, this time it was talon Trainees, but the rules stayed the same: snatch what you can, stay out of sight, find shelter where you are alone. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "This isn't a vacation." Snarls Reaper, crossing his arms as he moves beside Sombra to review the screens as well. Crossing his arms, feet placed shoulder width apart as he considers before speaking. ".. Six gone. Dead, or too injured to continue. Our training program is not -living- up to my expectations." He growls again, the faint creak of metal gauntlets flexing. "I'll have to speak to the station masters. Repeatedly. And at range." Six out of twelve before the sun has set? Either their pool of potential recruits was going dry, someone wasn't minding the profile they looked for, or the training itself was failing the youth. Reaper? Reaper took -that- personally. That meant he was going too easy on them, failing their ability to survive his missions. Although he does take a moment to say: ".. and my name.. is Reaper." Finallly he taps at the screen that shows Nicky making her way up through the foilage, looking to get high and dry. "She hasn't broken a sweat yet; See if you can light a fire underneath her. I want to see where she breaks." He growls, instinctively accepting the drink before he knows what he's doing. Sterile white mask turns towards it, and then towards Sombra. The can crinkles slightly as the low growl works its way through his throat, before he proffers it back - slightly worse for wear. And then his attention turns towards the island as a whole, crossing his arms again as she mentions the industry. "Yes. The failure to catch a simple politician off guard. .. I remember." Curiously, he doesn't snarl this time. Nicky finds herself up high on a tree bough, nicely situated between her climbing harness, backpack, water, food, fuel and the beginning of a weapon. But curiously enough, the sun has sunk even lower towards the horizon - it hadn't been THAT long, has it? The distant screams slowly fade away, replaced with a curious, mournful hooting sound that echoes through the dense jungle between the upthrust 'stone sites'. And, from her vantage, she's got a pretty good view of what's left. The obvious sites? There's six of them - laid in a haphazard circle along the edges of the island, as if no one wanted to go towards the middle. Small clusters of stone houses, a small temple or two. From this distant and from the haze of evaporation she can't make out too fine details, but she could probably make another site if she gave up on preparing for the evening. Especially as quickly as the sun appears to be moving across the sky. Is that normal for this part of the multiversal plane? 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Of course, there are still caves hidden in the tree lines - and whatever the jungle itself holds. LIke Reaper said - this isn't a vacation. And it isn't the city, where at least the dangers are predictable. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Not a vacation? "We're on a beach," Sombra points out. "I have a drink." Now take a sip.     Six out of twelve... well, not too bad. "If would have been worse if nobody had died so far too, though. Then we would have gone too easy on them. It's not like we can accept just any riff raff, right? Besides, the remaining will be more motivated to do proper work if they see the consequences of failing. Relajate, when they are done they will be stronger." Reaching out with her free hand, she moves to tap her index finger to Reaper's nose. Or where it would be on his mask. "Boop!" When will he get the hint that when it's just the two of them, then he's always Gabe?     Oh yes, Nicky seems to be doing well, doesn't she? The hacker smirks. "As you wish~" is her reply to Reaper's request, and well, since he took her drink, she has both hands free so she can type. "It tastes good, try it," she urges as she works, focus behind those sunglasses. With him commenting on Volskaya industries and their 'failure' there, she sighs. "She's got a lot of guards. Or did that knock to the head make you forget that?"     As she makes her way through the trees, Nicky might notice something however... there's a strange sound coming from behind her, all along with a strange smell in the air. What's more unnerving might be the fact that the wildlife suddenly react. Birds take flight, and critters rush along the ground and along the branches, not even taking notice of Nicky. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky frowns a moment, as the sun already goes down slowly, but then climbs down to the , peering out to the stone relics of other days. How many might still be out there fighting? Carefully she leaned back against a branch, lifting the flap of the backpack upwards with her knife to keep nasty surprises to a minimum. The rat trap makes her smile a moment as it slams on the knife with a loud clang, and then she finds the water... good heist. Shouldering the backpack, she goes back tothe ground, speeding up to the fourth citadel, counting her current position at the first. As the hike through the darkening night goes on, she shudders as the sound starts to stay there... and the critters run. THAT was not good. Speeding up, she tries to keep up with the wildlife, to not be left behind - which very very unlikely will be the case as most critters were much faster than humans. But it could grant her time. To maybe reach the safer area around one of the citadels... or some other, easier defensible position. The heat gathered droplets of sweat on her frehead, and she did keep the knife out in her run. She wasn't even taking precautions to stay silent - life over silence. This reminded her of...     Several years ago, just weeks after fleeing from home, she had crossed through a small township, where she hoped to hitch a ride to the city... what she didn't expect was, that it was filled with Purifiers. And that they would hunt her down in the forrest. Or at least try to. Running and evading their bulldogs kept her up for.. the better part of three days... what was the persuer this time?! 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "So are the MEKOs." Retorts Reaper with a snarl, back to his usual state of speaking as he glances back to Sombra - just in time for his mask to be booped. Faint wisps of smoke coil away from his shoulders and cowl, peeling away as if the man were slowly burning. The glass holding the drink creaking a bit more, a few more spider-lines running across it. But the growling subsides as he moves his gaze back across the floating screens, answering the question of the drink as he does. "It will turn to ash. Whatever manages to not drop through.. always tastes like ash. Ash and filth. Only the souls of the living can quench Death, now." The delicate glass shatters at last, but Reaper doesn't seem to notice it as he considers the problems of precisely how hard to push recruits. Murmuring with a rasp as he does: "I recall. I walked among their number upon the factory floor, and reaped." A faint tap his heavy boot into the sand, before he growls again. "Remember to mark them at night. We wouldn't want them getting any rest." More importantly, as Nicky ran she was passed up - but rather large, red colored babboons. The hooting, screaming creatures - all teeth and fang - swing past and by her, some of them stained a -different- red. Fresh. Wet. Still, beyond a crazed and yellow eyed glance at her, they power past. The Red Dogs spooked by something even worse than they are, driven out of their hunting grounds - albeit temporarily. As Nicky runs headlong in an attempt to keep herself safe, whatever it is behind her grows louder just in time for her to come up against a fence. A literal, rusted spike-bar fence, a small pocket sanctuary roughly the size of two suburban homes. Manning platforms stand at all four corners, with rotted shade flapping in low tatters - the jungle had eaten away at this place long ago, so the sun rarely touched it. A heavy metal gate sits balanced upon runners, with a thick bar across the inside. It'd be useless to keep humans out, but it'll do for wildlife. And in the middle is a sturdy building made of brickwork from local stone and a few pig-iron supports. Narrow arrow-slit windows and a half-broken ring along the top show this was likely a small canon emplacement; a small basement door nearby with a winch supports the theory, since there's a rusted half-rail leading towards another winch and a ladder. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The hacker glances at Reaper as he talks, arching an eyebrow. "You know, I'm sure somebody in the Concord could help you with that. There are many medical people there. I mean, surely you have to miss tasting stuff." She would. Nothing is better than a good drink now and then, especially while lounging on the beach. As she spies the lines in the glass she does reach out to take the drink. No sense letting it go to waste if he's going to be so damn /tense/... but no, too late. It shatters, and Sombra sighs heavily. "You owe me a new drink, Gabe." Good thing she brought a cooler, and she points to it.     At the reminder she can't help but roll her eyes. "You honestly think I'd forget that? Have /some/ faith in me!" Like she would forget a fun part like that.     As Nicky runs up towards the fence, she will notice something if she looks behind her... what the wildlife are feeling from, the sweet smell getting even stronger. A thick, purplish fog that creeps along the ground, rising towards the tree tops. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky can't do much more but dash around the compound for the gate, trying to slam it close behind her and do her best to block it in that position. Next she dashws for the tower, trying to get in - and atop it. Hight advantage and maybe a chance to get stuff that might be actually usefull now - when getting chased by growly huge things. Or if the others come. Or maybe, maybe, if she was really lucky, there might be an artifact. "Comeon, comeon...." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "The pain helps me focus. Remember.. what shape I am." Growls Reaper nonchalantly, because he couldn't possibly get more edgier, right?! Her commentary about him owing her a drink brings about a surprising, rasping answer from his growled voice: "Winners get drinks. Win, first. Then we'll go to Pandora again." A place where 'drink' was a suggestion for the alchohol level. It's like all the bad, fun parts of the Overwatch world rolled, concentrated, then baked into a planet. At the sight of the purple gas, Reaper's arms cross once more as he considers it. "Mm. Acidic? She doesn't need to breath in her.. alternative form." He couldn't bring himself to say plushie. He really couldn't. There were tactical advantages to the 'alternative' form that needed more respect than the word 'plushie' derived. Into the fence Nicky goes, the gate slamming behind her with the loud 'clunk' of the catch bar falling across again. It'll keep the animals out - at least, those who can't climb or leap over. The grass is overgrown here, almost up to her waist, but at least it's a clear spot. The purple, thick gas clinging to the metal bars as it squeezes through, too thick to really be seen. But while it builds up as it piles upon itself, it doesn't -seem- to go as high as the top of the building she found. For now. Although, as if destiny - or a dice app - were laughing at her, she does happen to find something like a relic! A curious stone iconography, vague geometric shapes with a small tracker spot-welded and heavily braced into the side with tight metal bands. Held in the arms of another Talon recruit, her wild blue gaze turning from the purple gas towards Nicky as she clambers up. And out comes a knife of her own (the second saboteur?) as she crouches near the edge. Lips a thin line as she waits - 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "No offense Gabe, but I think you're unable to forget how edgy and brooding you are even if you decided to wear pink clothing or something," Sombra points out, then narrows her eyes when he doesn't get the hint. "I meant, get a drink from the cooler for me. It's warm, and I'm thirsty." And if he doesn't comply? Well, then Reaper will have to deal with Sombra leaning over him to reach over to the cooler box, opening it as she yanks out a can with what looks like a mojito.     "Besides, I always win, you should know that by now."     Once done she leans back in her beach chair, getting comfy again as she looks over the screens again while she opens the can of alcoholic drink. "Of course it's acidic, though it's slow working." Fortunately for Nicky it appears that the gas stops near the gate, as if the danger was just there to force people to bump into each other at this spot.     A grin spreads on Sombra's lips, and she points at the screen before she increases its size for Reaper to see. "Hey, there... there's the little chica now. Man, makes me wish I had popcorn for this." Instead she sips her drink, watching intently as she waits for the fighting to start. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky spots her opponent up on the tower, and while still wielding the knife, she makes her was inside and up. Better to get out of the purple for now - before it might do whatever it does. If it means confrontation, so be it. It might hurt... but it might solve the task given at once. But priority was the purple mist. REaching the top, former cannon ring, Nicky stopped, almost expecting a knife to be held into her direction, or being thrust at her, maybe even thrown. Instead of going into an assault now... she lifted her hands to be visible, just the one knife in her left. "I did not come here for the idol." Nicky claimed - and truth on that part, she did't come for it, but she would take it, if the chance presented itself. Her knife she held in the typical dagger grip, blade downwards. "But I'm not going down into the mist." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You haven't found my Knievel outfit? Hm. I thought you were the best surveilance talent in the world.." States Reaper. Was he.. was he teasing her, in his growling, rasping voice? Talon!Dad keeps his focus on the screens, however, the moment passing like a mirage on the side of the highway as he nods sharply at the confrontation building. After a moment his metal claws flex, reaching down to pop a mojito; Clawed fingers puncture the top, and it's passed over. There's no one about. He can relax - slightly. "Hm. Did you drive the other recruit there first? That's.. " He pauses, metal claws flexing slowly. "Astrafel. Slit the harness of another recruit coming out of hot drop. We'll need to review that later to find out why - it may be a flaw. Just like Nicky's..." Nothing was perfect. But things could be -honed-. That was the point of training until breaking, to leave only the best on the field. Although he just hisses in response to Sombra's comment about popcorn, sterile bone white mask tilting slowly. "Focus on the mission." He reminds her.. Astrafel, declares the name tag over this woman's suit. She, like Nicky, seemed to be fully dressed. And she'd kept the harness as well, using it to transport rope. Not hers, as the very end has the fray of being cut, but someone else's. No telling where that person is now. The young woman's eyes flit to the purple as it halts at the split-bars, then back to Nicky. Never keeping her eyes off her opponent for more than a few moments, the knife still held underhand and ready for a forward thrust. Defensive. "Bullshit." Comes the response, the thin lipped youth shifting into a bit better position. Remaining warily opposite of Nicky for now, minding her step with careful presses of her toes before she squats down. Settling on her heels, lowering her center of gravity - preparing for a rush before she licks her lips. ". .Fair enough. But when the poison goes, you're going to go find your own. This one's mine. And I -will- kill the first, second, and third person who tries to take it from me." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Unless the baboons kill you first. Or Sharaseth and her group. They plan to gank all and then loot the bodies." Nicky replies, keeping a roughly low stance, not low enough to jump into an attack, but to keep a low silhouette. Not to make Astrafel ''friendly'', but more to lull her in safety. She wasn't below taking a chance when it offered itself... but it must present itself first, and a fight was a risk too much... at least without an advantage. "How you know there is no fourth to come?" Should the other girl react with a strike... Nicky knew a way to get out of the way - and possibly have her test that mist for her at the same time: Plushie small. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Orange and pink are hardly the same colour," Sombra responds calmly, though there's a glint of amusement in her eyes, especially when he does as asked and hands her the mojito. "Gracias." Sipping the cold drink she watches the screen while Reaper comments on the other recruit. As she lowers the can she nods, then brings up another screen, showing the other recruit's status. "Teamwork is necessary..." she muses quietly. Sure, Reaper and Widowmaker aren't the most social people, but Sombra knows that they aren't going to stab her in the back. Nor would she stab them in the back, even if she's not hesitant to use them to her own means in the end.     "I /am/ focusing on the mission. I just don't see why I can't enjoy the entertainment, verdad?"     Now let's see what the two girls end up doing...     Maybe we should put them through something different next time. I'm sure I could come up with an interesting concept for a gauntlet," she suggests to Reaper in a conversational tone, as if they hadn't just put recruits into a dangerous test where people have already lost their lives. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "If I could have finished the mission on my own, I would have a long, long time ago - and been done with this mortal world." Snarls Reaper in agreement, before his sterile bone white mask bobs again. "Let's make sure they're worth having as her teammates.. she's come a long way. She's got a lot longer to go. When is her next CQC training scheduled?" He states, though his gaze drifts back to the other floating screens. Even as the sunlight above begins to burn from yellow to burdundy - and then sink to deep reds and bruised purple. Although he straightens up, his gaze once more turning to the jungle itself. And slowly lifts a hand, pushing his fist into it - letting the long, slow 'crack' of knuckles be heard. "Darkness falls. Time to reap the dying... Waste not, want not." Better it was a quick end, anyways, than a prolonged suffering. "Write up your proposal; I'll review it, and we'll go over the briefing. I might take it to the Count as well, to get input from a .. multiversal viewpoint." AS if he wasn't just talking about eating the dead; His form beginning to melt once again as stars scatter across the cloudless sky.. "We all plan that. Four relics, four ways off this island." She begins, her frame still tight with anticipation. But it seems that the 'truce' is holding for now, her eyes slitting as she considers the group already formed. ".. What are you proposing, then?" She finally asks, lips still thin. She's not offering much in the way of opportunities to 'relieve' her of the artifact - you don't make it this far into Talon training without some sense of self preservation. Nicky's was just finer honed due to her childhood. Which is precisely - When the relic begins to glow. And I do mean -glow-, as the sun sinks. Bright as a camp fire, brilliantly lighting up the surroundings. The young woman hisses in surprise, her attention drawn down as she quickly scrambles to find something to cover it up with. Elsewhere in the jungle? Three other places begin to glow, brightly. Anyone with even a little bit of elevation above the canopy could spot precisely where those relics are. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     A light chuckle leaves the hacker, and she cants her head at Reaper. "But you can't... that's why you have friends like me and Araña, no?" she points out. Their goals are the same for now, and well... she likes those two far better than the other Talon members.     Next training... "This weekend is the initial date. Though we could move it if something happens."     Night is approaching, and it appears that Reaper is ready for the next stage of the plan. This doesn't seem to bother her none, though she does look curious. "Is that a new trick you picked up, by the way?" Didn't he use to feast on souls?     But fine, she'll work on something as she has a good idea on how to do it. It will require some resources, but... it will be worth it. Heck, maybe even Reaper might enjoy going through it.     As darkness falls across the island and the relics light up like beacons in the night, the recruits and Gabe might hear it... the faint humming across their comms, an obvious lullaby being sung in Spanish, partially hummed in parts.     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUK3wkY45OM     Let's see how these recruits react... Reaper should know where the injured ones are and deal with them. Just how will Nicky and her new 'friend' deal with this now that they're a beacon to the others...? 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "I suggest we make sure to secure one of the other targets... before Sharaseth comes to us. With that beacon, That won't be long... just have to wait out the mist." Nicky replies, trying to estimate how close the other targets are without leaving the other girl out of the eyes too long. Then the lullaby starts to sing, making Nicky frown. "Great... not only a beacon, but also loud. Let's drop the comms... and then make a run for the next. maybe we can soften the glow with the backpack." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The Reaper pauses mid-way through his shadow step, his essence already curling out along the dying sands like a shadow of the damned. His cowled head turning back towards Sombra for a moment, his voice growling lowly. "It's a brand new dimension, Sombra - Even Death can evolve." Which means whatever strange mechanism, whatever curious disease has eaten his - for politeness sake, we'll call it a 'body' - is changing too. And then he's gone, a swirling mass of dark smoke slipping into the tree line. He'll have to have a chat with her about the lullaby, though. Too close to home. Astrafel's eyes narrow once more at the mention of keeping the artifact in the backpack - oh, and look! Only Nicky has a backpack! - before she simply nods her head. She peels off her climbing harness, keeping a wary eye on Nicky - a return of distrust - before she wraps it again and again about the relic, using up the rope where she must, tying off the bundle. The knife is, as always, forever close to her hand; It's not much, but it at least dims it from 'roaring campfire' to 'nightlight'. Although the lullaby continues, muffled for now. Nicky hasn't got much of a view, seeing as this small 'fort' is below the canopy, but she can at least see the other hazy glowing 'auras' and get a general sense of direction. Most of the glows snuff out quickly, evidence that they're already in possession of someone. One remains, off to her west, while two glows - close to one another - were snuffed out to her northeast. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' As if on cue, the swirling, thick mass of purple slowly begins to disperse. Or, at the very least, to bubble and swirl upon the ground. It'll still be about in low spots, as if the gas were very heavy. And where it had passed, one can see the score marks. Leaves withered and melted, tree trunks scoured, and so forth. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Luckily for Nicky and Astrafel, the cloud seems to have drifted off. "Ok... seems like... we need to move. Fast. Northeast there is the last 'free', the other two... might be in the hands of Sharaseth... or two others not too far from each other, and their closeness to each other will be what makes Sharaseth and her group trying to get them." And with that, Nicky takes a slow turn to move down. "Oh... and maybe we... leave a scorched earth. Maybe it makes them look for the thing here..." Stopping on the ground floor, Nicky waits for her sudden 'partner' to clear the building before she pulls out the fuel can, pouring some on the rotten wood floor before setting it alight with a good strike with the knife's pommel against the wall, drawing sparks. Fire... Better... Get away now. "Ok, move it!" and with that, she tries her best to get to the other spot while also not getting stabbed by Astrafel. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' On the cameras monitoring the 'fatally injured', a swirling black cloud shifts into view. Bubbling and rising, wisps of its dark essence boiling away like a miniature hurricane. The heft and point of a shotgun - the silent, brutal flash of light. And, curiously enough, something from the quivering remains drawn back -into- the shadowy mass. Hurt people to heal - and you thought there was an END to the EDGE. The smoke dissipates and flits away again, only to reappear on the next camera. And the next, after that, until there -are- no fatally injured left... 'Astrafel' gives Nicky a flat eyed stare at she mentions having to move fast, but outside of a snort doesn't contradict her. She -has- her relic, and if Nicky's going after someone else's, well - all the better. "You're the one who cut her line. She's the one who let you cut her line. I don't see what business that is of mine; But if she's got a group of four, then they'll be after my relic too." And that's pretty much the only reason she's even considering this curious team-up. And why she agrees to slip into the building first, because then she can keep an eye on Nicky in the doorway. While she's got all sorts of exits from this worn down micro-bunker. But whatever loot was in this place was either taken by Astra, or already gone. Either way, the fire begins to flicker and grow as it climbs up the walls - and then follows Nicky's lead towards the west, where the lone light still glows. Leaving behind them a glow all their own. And somewhere up ahead? The Red Dogs mourful hooting can be heard - briefly silenced by sudden, explosive BOOMS. Three of them, to be precise, staggered a few minutes apart. Shotgun fire. After a while, even the echoes of that noise fades away, and the night sounds rise once more.... Shadowy tendrils slither from the jungle, like ink thrown across the moon-bleached sand. Coiling and bubbling as they thicken, Reaper rising from the grasp of shadows like an over-dramatic center forward entrance on the stage. His clawed hands turned upwards, dark laughter slowly rasping from his throat. Someone's feeling better. Metal gauntlets flex as he squeezes, before his sterile mask turns back towards the jungle. And pauses. ".. Five glowing spots?" He asks, his white mask turning back towards Sombra. Heavy boots striding through the sand again, dark coat matching the dark places between the stars above. "How many relics have been found so far?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     There's some idle curiousity there as Reaper feasts on the fallen, those who will not rise up again. Sure, she's seen him fight several times, but it's surely something else to see just what the man formerly known as Gabriel Reyes has become. Sombra's eyes narrow slightly as she leans forwawrd, increasing one of the videos to get a closer look. Though her attention quickly moves to the area where Nicky and Astrafel are moving towards. Burning down the place... well, that's a strategy that often works, so why not?     As Reaper returns Sombra turns her head to glance up at him before she retuns to her screens, typing up something on her holovid keyboard. "3 have been found. Though I assume that they will not share nicely, as the trio seem intent on making sure the others do not pass. At least we can't fault them for lacking ambition and drive, no?" she states calmly. "Two Red Dogs are down... it's going to be costly to replace them." It's a good thing Talon doesn't lack funds.     Her expression looks pensive. "I /could/ unleash La Urraca...?" she suggests, looking over to Reaper as if asking for his opinion. It's up to him if he wants to up the ante on the test or not, to change the focus of the recruits. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky just stares back a moment. "She has others with her. And their goal is total annihilation." She remarks on Astrafel's burst. "And they might have picked up another. That makes her our enemy." And on the road they are. The sounds of the shotgun make Nicky halt in place half a second, biting her lips as she tries to make out the direction it came from, then shaking her head as she continiues the search. "''Someone'' got a gun. That complicates things a little." Is all her comment, but the unbalanced weapon situation worries her. A lot. Come on Nicky... Safety is some dash away - and possibly one or two more hours. What was the condition for exfiltration again? 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Ambition is good; As long as it can be turned towards purpose and not meaningless power grabbing." Snarls the Reaper, even as he crosses his arms. Still feeling a little feisty from the feast, his heavy boots slowly pacing back and forth as he considers the next problem, flitting a hand. "Mph. Red Dogs were a mistake from the beginning. Soldiers need a brain; Anything can scream and run forward. Only soldiers hold the line. They're useless except as training fodder anyways." A faint dismissive growl - one of Talon's early attempts after seeing the 'success' of the Lunar Colony genetic protocols on the great apes. With lesser success, but better control. And then Sombra mentions IT. La Urraca - the Magpie. There is a long, drawn out hiss of breath as he considers the question. That he doesn't just jump to -yes- shows how dangerous this thing is. Before he nods, pointing once at the screen where Nicky and her erstwhile ally are running towards the final glowing spot. Even as a group of four survivors wind their way towards the fire left behind, with the Betrayed in the lead. By virtue of being the one able to hold them together, between viciousness and turning their self interest towards her own ends. "Unleash it." He finally states, with a growl. "Work her into a panic. See how she handles it. We need to know when she breaks - where the other flaws are." Weapon disadvantage or no, Nicky manages to make her way towards the final glow - with Astra at her side, and as of yet unstabbed. Although, as always, Astra makes sure to keep a good reaction distance, her knife already in palm where possible. As they approach the glowing site, the tree-line thins out and finally gives way to a gorge. Not a very big on, maybe ten or twenty feet down, but filled with sharp side projections. And the faint gurgling sound of water swelling in and out of holes from the ocean's crash. The glow itself is from somewhere below the shelf, likely tucked into a semi-flooded cave. In point of fact, as the water gurgling grows louder, one can see the light take on a 'wavery' quality as it bounces and reflects off the wet tan stone. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Amibition is indeed important... it's something that Sombra has lots of, which Reaper should know well enough by now. At least she works well enough with them, not about to directly make things difficult for them. "They have their uses, sí... distractions, for one," Sombra responds calmly, raising her can to sip at her drink some more as she thinks. While Reaper considers her suggestion she's quiet, fingers tapping away at the keys. Glancing at the screen that Reaper points at, she gives him a curious look. Why isn't it a huge surprise that he doesn't go easy on the poor recruits who have found themselves caught in Talon's web?     A slightly amused snort leaves Sombra, and she opens up another screen that she begins adding information to. "It's the best way to see whether she can stand the pressure indeed..." A few more command inputs, and Sombra smirks. "She's on her way."     As the remaining recruits make their way towards the gorge and the last remaining light, they aren't alone. The first warning is a sound that echoes from the distance, a rumble that approaches... The winds pick up next, the trees rustling even more... all before something swoops over the tree tops, taking a large turn before it heads back towards the gorge. Something large, birdlike... and not exactly what one might expect to friendly. Black and white feathers cover a ten foot long body, an enormous wingspan and elongated neck. Black eyes peer down at the people there, all before a sharp and crooked beak opens to let out a /shriek/ before it descends down towards the other group, claws extended as it seeks to grab one of them! 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The two fight their way through the jungle, past occasional rock piles that bear marks of the former owners of the island - original and archaeological alike. But for now, Nicky wasn't to stop until the light was to come into vision. Apparently her ruse had worked well enough to give them an edge to gain the place. "I... don't like that." Nicky responds, then looks back to where they came from, then to Astrafel, then again down. "I can go grab it. But there's no place to hide around here, I mean, to dim them away more and then move on. We can seperate, if you want, or we can stay together and use the advantage of numbers. They might be three, they might be four, they might even have picked up more and will settle the score among themselves in the end... I can't tell you that. I know, That down there is as much my ticket out as you have yours." That is, when the sound of wing grows louder and the shadow of the figure appears over the treeline. Nicky moves slowly backwards, still eying Astrafel for her reaction until she stops at the edge of the open cut in the land, her combat boots just an inch or two away from the edge. Perfect to push her down, right? The shriek of the birdlike creature give Nicky shivers in a really bad way. Letting her body fall backwards with a forced smile on the lips, she once again descends down, past the very first jagged edge before letting go of the pent up concentration she had used just to stay as she was. Never she had immagined that loosing control sometimes might be a benefit under very small circumstances... Plopping away into mist and recondensing, it was a foot long, bright white Shark-stuffie that fell down, bouncing over some of the ragged walls relatively harmlessly, receiving a slash on a particular sharp rock along the hind fin and finally hitting the water, only to slowly submerge halfway as it was thrown around by the waves. It took at least a few seconds before the plushie Shark hauled over, belly to the sky, and misted away to condense back to Nicky, a long cut along her right shin. Gritting her teeth, she turned around to try to swim against the current towards the origin of the glow, through the maelstrom of turbulent waves and jagged cliffs and - at the edges - foaming water. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' It's Florian who gets nabbed first, as the bird swoops down - the four 'partners' having been caught completely off guard by the sudden appearance of a MONSTER BIRD on their relatively normal island. That'll teach them about mission expectations. While they'd done an admiral job forming a tight circle, with two holding relics - and one of those relics belonging to Sha herself. The only way to ensure their loyalty was to toy with their self interest, after all. Two down, two to go. But as they're clamboring over the fence towards the burnt out shack - mostly as a way to -get the hell out of open air- - one of them is snagged as he leaps. Florian. He screams, pulling a broken spear point out of his pocket and doing his best to cut through the hardened claws of The Magpie. The other three take one look, and grimly move to get under cover. They simply haven't got weapons that would take something of that size down. Red Dogs can be fooled, or killed one on many if you were careful to surround it. This thing was an entirely different matter. An entirely different -LEVEL- of bad. Reaper watching the screens passively, even as he tilts his death mask again. "Will it give up the hunt now, or have they worked on its aggression level since last I checked?" A shift of his attention, and a growl of annoyance. "Rope and climbing harness, and she decides to leap. Mm.." It actually may have been the best idea. Especially with a partner you can't trust to remain... professional. Back to pacing again, not nervous - simply burning off excess energy without having anything to occupy his hands. Like murder. "Update the current list of 'acceptable' ex-fil communications to be broad-band radio burst as well as typical signal. They're getting close to the comm-tower. They weren't trained on our dead drops yet.." And you can't expect recruits to figure -that- out on the fly, even if you are putting them through metaphorical hell and highwater. Well, literally on the last part. "What's to like? This whole situation is screwed up. Like.." She pauses, her eyes narrowing dangerously. ".. Like a mission gone wrong. Mm. Just get your relic, and we'll figure out a way to signal the transports. Did.. Did you get any other instructions on how to do that?" And then Astrafel -hits the ground- when the bird swoops past, putting the relic beneath her. Gritting her teeth until she can hear it run off, her attention back on NIcky - just for Nicky to go over the edge. Swearing softly under her breath, she scrambles forward to watch Ni-uh.. hm. Where did Nicky go? OH, there she is. In the water. How the he-Nevermind. Time for that later. The knife is out, jammed into the loamy ground and dug hard. Astrafel's muscles quivering as she digs as fast as she can at the soft earth, trying to make something of a hole to bury her own relic in. At least to dim the -light-. And then to start unwinding both the rope and the harnes.. It's like Nicky said. Four on one is bad odds. Four on two is survivable. Four on another while she's running is perfect. The crash of the ocean drags at Nicky when she swims forward - lucky for those endurance training, hm? It's being put to the test now, as the ripping under current keeps trying to drag the young mutant out into the water to drown. Or at least become very, very soggy if she switches back to plush mode. Even from here she can see it - a natural cove cut into the side of the small clif, with lots of bubbled caves waiting explortaion. Salt stings and tugs at the tear in her skin, but at last her toes hit wet beach - it slides out from beneath her a few times, and the going is both slow and exhuasting, but she can tug herself into that cover. Where the relic sits, with a clip-chain holding it against the wall to keep it from floating off. The cave is low enough to force Nicky to squat-walk - and worse, a big wave could fill it to the brim before retreating again. It's not going to be easy. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The large predator bird lets out a screech of triump as it digs its talons into Florian. It doesn't seem like the stabbing of the spear point does much besides irritate it, and it snaps its beak at the youth. Within seconds it's taken to the air again, but only briefly. It sets it course back towards the gorge, then swoops down... and lets poor Florian plummet down towards the cliff side. Then it follows, landing on top of Florian as it cocks its head curiously... and then begins its meal.     "They say it has been starved the last days, so... it's as aggressive as can be, it looks like..." Considering it's decided to /eat/ one of the recruits. "Not to mention I assume it will want to grab the shiny things, it does like treasures from what we've seen." It's a bird that lives up to its name, all right.     Regarding Nicky's choice... well, that's a fun one. "Leaping is quicker," Sombra responds calmly to Reaper, albeit with an amused grin crossing her lips. "I would have done the same, really." The order from Reaper is heard, and the hacker nods as she begins updating the list. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Gritting her teth, Nicky has only one way to go to get the item. Getting the backpack off, she pushes it in front of her as she works her way into the small cave to unclip the idol from the chain that holds it. That was the easy part: getting the idol and tucking it into the backpack. The tricky part is getting out again without being drowned, as the waves behind her come in, starting to flood the cave. Panic starts to creep up along her spine as the water drags at her feet, pulling just enough to make her fear to loose the unstable footing in the low crawlspace. But then again, she has the item she came for. Securing the latch of the backpack and making sure it was well closed, she preses the bag to her chest. She can't tell that Astrafel decided to start to follow her, but getting out was mattering more now. Better without getting drowned. And PLOPP, gone she is again, counting on the fact that a wet and soggy plushie will be dragged out of the cave. As the neon green mist settles, it is a likewise colored chipmunk that is pulled out by the waves, into the open, bright but not shiny - and the artifact vanished off the radar the same time. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You have a translocator. I'm dead." Retorts Reaper to Sombra's comment about it being faster, but he doesn't otherwise argue as his attention shifts back to the screens again. No reaction to watching Florian be dragged up into the air and taken near the gorge of the last relic - bird food. He knew from the start only a third of the recruits would make it through this trial. There are times when more are taken in - mostly when someone's intelligence or burgeoning tactical sense is too good to let go to something a simple as a lack of physical and mental toughness - but those moments were rare and far between. Or if they were tricky enough to get off on their own. The only rules were - if you had a relic, you got to leave by transport. IF you could contact the transport. Anyone without a relic was a lost cause and on their own. It still irks him that six were downed in the first few 'hours' of daylight. "Slow the day rotation as well. Keep it.. -dark-. Real time count." He growls, metal claws flexing again. "If it likes shiney things, lets make sure four shiney things are waiting to snatch its attention. Pluck hope from the air, one.. feather.. at a time. Let the panic settle in. If they survive this... there'll be little in the multiverse that could rattle them." Evil Dad. Tough love taken to the extreme, for his potential soldiers. What's a gun pointed at you when you just faced down life-or-death odds against a giant bird, meat eating killer baboons, starvation, acidic gas, cliff diving and watching nine of your fellow recruits be murdered over shiney trinkets? It's laughable, that's what it is. And you wonder why so many Black Watch agents were full of snark - as are a lot of Talon agents, now-a-days. Astra ties off the rope, tossing the empty harness down towards the crashing foam in the gorge. Something for Nicky to get a hold of and start hauling herself up - if she trusts the person at top. Who, if Nicky was successful, no longer has a reason to murder the mutant. Both would have relics, and you don't get more 'points' for more relics. Although there are always those occasional over achievers. Still, when the bird swoops in to land, Astrafel quickly slips back under the brush. Getting down on her belly, and working her way under cover slowly and carefully. Cussing softly under her breath the whole time; Sorry, Nicky. Looks like you're on your own for the moment! The sweep out of the cave is a sudden rush of water when the next big wave fills it like an overflowing cup, sending the green chipmunk spinning back into the open waters. As the waves begin the slow process of sweeping her out. She's got a while - low mass and weight means there's not a lot of surface tension to tug her along - she can see the sillouette of The Magpie. Not able to quite make out the whole bird-beast, its neck curving down again and again only to twist and yank up. -Feasting-. Did Astrafel get caught?! There's no tell-tale glow to be seen from her prior position near the gorge. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "I guess that's true..." she muses, giving Reaper a cheeky grin. "Still, Nicky is tough in her more... cutesy form." Seriously, a shark plushie. And now a chipmunk that gets dragged out by the tide. "Setting rotation to real time," Sombra confirms, turning a knob on her virtual keyboard, all before she stretches out again, closing her eyes as La Urraca feasts, the poor recruit long gone at this point.     As a matter of fact the giant bird is gone eating by now, and it flaps its massive wings again, taking to the sky as it peers about, trying to find its next course of today's meal. Who will be the lucky one...?     It looks towards where it snatched Florian from, then to the brightest source of light nearby... 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The part of getting pulled out into the open was giving Nicky some advancement as planned - the Magpie however was so not planned. The world aroud Nicky spun as the tiny chipmunk was flung over the waves, but the swinging line with the harness on the lower end was kind of tempting. Even if... The Bird might have got Astrafel - or was it one of the follower group as it swooped earlier? Could it get down the kind of narrow cliff? Could it get out again? Could she even... use it as a lift? It would... be risky. REALLY risky, but maybe... maybe... Biting her mental teeth together, and counting on at least some luck, Nicky braced herself for the salty sting of the ocean again as she plopped back to her human shape. Only a moment she had to inhale deeply, then she sunk under the surface from the added weight of the artifact, and in the silent underwater fight with the currents she did her best to get the backpack where it belonged. Fighting her way up to the surface with burning lungs, panic came back like a creeping snake. In the last moment, she broke the surface, taking a mouthfull of the sweet air, her backpack shining like a patchy nightlight at the sides while the upper part, where the flap lay over the pulled tight opening, was dark. Fighting the waves, she finally managed to grab for the swaying harness that Astrafel left her, taking it as a welome chance to catch breath. Hopefully the bird wouldn't go for her, but even then... she might use that to her advantage still... 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The brightest source of light right now? The fire still sputtering out in the 'mini-fortress', with the broken ring of the former canon emplacement poking upwards like a bent halo in the flickering flames. But a bird isn't really interested in fires, is it? No, it's the faint glows that'll catch a Magpie's attention. That, and a chance to eat. The real question is - which team was better at hiding their relic from the peering eyes of a massive bird beast? Quick as shadows, the remains of Sha's team - all three together - slip back over the fence while the Magpie is busy, moving once more into the jungle itself. Heading towards where the glow of the last relic had suddenly been snipped out - and, coincidentally, where the massive bird beast had been. Even as the cold, uncaring stars twinkle overhead. Where, O Where, will that bird go next? The rope snags secure as Nicky grabs hold of it, easily able to support her weight even after being up top once; After all, that was its purpose. However, as she hangs there, no one comes to pull her up. Then again, no one comes to drop rocks on her head or cut the line itself, so that's a plus. From her vantage, with the faint trace of moonlight now beginning to creep in with the surpression of the relic's burning glow, she can see dark smears trekking down the gorge's tanned stone. The faint smell of copper. And, as it were, a single shoe floating lonesomly nearby - the mouth of it frayed open by a beak sharper than a sword and three times as deadly. Downy feathers join the deitrus where the massive thing had been so very eager to take its first meal in days. "Alternative form." Corrects Reaper idly, watching the screens again. "I'm assuming the form itself is either subconscious. There may be a way to control it in the future - something less... cutesy." The last word growled as if it were painful. "At the end of the day, function over form. If she maintains her immunities, what she looks like doesn't matter." The sterile white mask turned back towards the distant profile of the massive bird; Even this far away, Reaper could almost make out the shape. "Amatuer hour. Give me a HALO team and a shotgun; I'll do more work than a half-mad giant raptor could do any day of the week." Someone is NOT a fan of the bio-engineering team, are they? But then again, Reaper always did have a 'pro-human' stance - even if it was more along the lines of =HIS= humans than it was other people's humans. They were fodder, his were soldiers and special ops. ".. We'll need to settle on callsigns. If they survive." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     La Urraca turns towards the fire, then lets out a airshaking bellow that sounds through the area. Then it sets its sights towards where Sha's team is headed, though it has problems keeping up with them due to them not being out in the open. That doesn't stop the bird from trying to get to them though! With every heavy flap of its wings, the monster bird tries to knock them over, all while it extends its legs, talons grabbing for them. It proves to be difficult however, and the creature lets out another sound, one of frustration.     "What's wrong with cutesy?" Sombra inquires. "She can blend in easily. Few people are concerned about stuffed animals and plushies. I mean, if you were to infiltrate a toy store... it wouldn't do, Gabe." Nobody would ever belive he belongs in there. "You need more imagination, anciano..." Sombra's eyes nearly glitter with mischievousness. "As for callsigns... how about Fluffy? Mullido? Doll might not fit, I mean, she turns into plushies, not dolls... Hmmmm." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The shoe being flung at her makes the young mutant gulp, but cling to her lifeline. This was the way up. She doesn't feel it in her to swim back to the beach. As the bird finally roars up and flies away, Nicky sighs with relief, pulling herself up on the harness enough to hook her own in. Climbing up the sharp wall took a lot of time though, especially with the hurting leg, unless Astrafel would come to an aid. Two versus three, if Astra was still alife. And her against four if not. In the later case... find a way to extract? The beach maybe... She had seen Sombra taking a 'camp' there. Pulling herself over the edge finally, she drags herself onto the ground, all over wet, the right trouser painted red from salty blood - and the backpack lightly glowing. So far survived with one knife, one bottle of water, some arrows, a backpack, a little bit of petrol and the harness... as well as Astrafel's. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "La Cuchilla." Growls Reaper, with a simple shrug of the shoulders. "Cold as a knife to cut the other hot-drop lines while they were distracted.. by me." He doesn't apologize for it, of course. Anyone who wasn't paying attention when they were talking life and death - and your opponent is on the shuttle with you? That person deserves to get their life lines cut and a fall to the sand below. And then the bone white mask is turned for Sombra, a low, rumbling snarl. But before he can comment something stupid like 'I don't infiltrate toy stores edgy edgy edgy' he instead pauses. Considers the comment. Then turns his attention back to the screens. "... Fair point. I would not be a good candidate to hide in a -toy store-." He growls. He watches the trio - Sha and her two compatriots - duck and weave into the thicker part of the jungle. They had to leave some supplies behind to pick up speed - or, in one girl's point, because it was snagged by a ripping talon - but otherwise they've managed to get to safety. Reaper tilts his head slowly at a thought. "Four relics. Five survivors so far. ... Turn the relics up brighter." When Nicky drags her battered, soaking wet form over the edge of the gorge - she'll find her arm gripped by Astrafel. The young woman's eyes are narrow slits, as she considers whether or not to take this opportunity to gut the mutant. But at the faint glow from Nicky's backpack, she relents and helps drag Nicky back onto solid land. Her gaze turned up towards the sky as she watches the bird beast hound someone else. Someone rapidly moving -this- way, even as she's drawing the rope back up. And - if Nicky doesn't stop her - taking back the harness as well. So she can start digging her own relic out of the soft, loamy earth with both hands, taking time to keep it covered first. "How many do you think are left?" She asks, softly, before her hard gaze falls on Nicky again. Thin lips turned into a frown. "Your the 'special' one. Fessing time. What did he give you for ex-fil? How do we signal the transports?" 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Me? Nothing. If anything, he had me snatched fromthe bunks first to be extra tired. But... I saw Sombra on the beach. Some tower was over on the mountain side, maybe a com one. I heard Sharaseth had some walkies - maybe the one that was snatched too." Nicky replies as she works her way up to her feet, glaring into the darkness where the others should come from, judging from the bird. "To the beach has no cover, to the tower has som but it is pretty dark and the last option is clear confrontation. Do you have yours?" She wasn't going to grab the climbing gear of the sudden ally - she couldn't carry too much more anyway, not without a rest and her leg being fixed some. Which... actually. "Astrafel, how rested are you? You think you could make a run for the beach or the tower with... almost no load at all? I mean, if there would be a way to reduce the load to close to nothing, could you manage that run with some water?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     A snort leaves Sombra, and she looks increduosly up at Reaper. "Seriously...?" And yes, she does have a point. A Talon agent needs to be able to infiltrate places, to go incognito. And as it happens to be, Sombra is the one who looks the most normal of their trio. "Just imagine... a teddy bear left behind. Nobody pays attention to it, and it can move about without drawing notice. And you never know, maybe we need to infiltrate a house where there are toys to blend in with... or she could be a gift we could hand over, only for her to make her way back out."     Let's make those things shine brightly then... "As you wish, Gabe." With a twist of her hand Sombra turns the button, and the relics begin emitting a much stronger light, making them even more visible to La Urraca.     The big bird becomes even more obsessed it seems, and it manages to knock over a few trees as it lunges forward with its long neck, grabbing one of the recruits holding one of the relics! 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Astrafel frowns at the question, but doesn't give an immediate answer. Rather, she takes a moment to rub the palm of her hand in one eye and then the other. Open her mouth wide, as if waiting for a yawn. Feel along her own arms and legs, as she squats in the foilage. Taking -assessment- of her physical capability, before she shakes her head. "I snatched one from the idiot who's line I snipped. Mine got wet. It's transmitting, but no one's responding on the other side. I just heard that lady .. Sombra. Once or twice." And then she looks down along the climb towards the beach, considering the question carefully, before she gives Nicky a side-long glance. And a low, deadpan statement. "Yes... but I'm not giving you my relic. This is my ticket back to Talon base afterwards-" And then the relics start putting out -more- light. Turning backpack from nightlight into small fire, and the light shining through the gaps in rope/harness into a disco-ball. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The youth who gets snatched up by Big Bird of Death screams - his holler echoing out across the still night air as he struggles to clear his pack from the snapping beak of the monster before it kills him too. The third one - the one without a relic - pausing to turn around, to try and help. "Throw it! Throw the relic! I'll lead it off!" In a panic, Piotr does just as Jon suggests, throwing the relic down to him. He immediatly shoves the thing beneath his shirt, grinning wickedly, and takes off after his sister - Jon as well - and Sha. Even as Piotr is still screaming in a mix of panic and anger at his betrayal.. "Dead serious." Comes Reaper's retort, in a raspy deadpan. TALON DAD JOKE. His mask turning back towards the jungle itself as the low light of glowing relics becomes far more visible - a collision preparing to happen. Inevitable. His slow, dark chuckles bubbling up from whatever it is he uses as a throat. Covering them won't work well anymore - they've gotten too bright to look at directly anymore. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky nods slowly, as she opens the backpack, pulling out the water bottle to toss it to Astrafel. "Yes, it is your ticket. I am your ticket to redeem your ticket, while you are mine for the same. Might be silly, but you have to trust me here. I can lessen our load by two rock statues as well as their their glow. You just have to carry my other self. Fresh up... Neither of us can run fast enough to outrun the bird or Sharaseth and her group." A moment or two Nicky fell silent, then she looked stern at Astrafel over the blinding light of the artifacts. "It's easy... I carry the artifacts... you carry me. I'm not kidding. That will lessen the load to... grams." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The bird claws at the glow, desperate to get to the relic. The moment it's thrown however, the bird lets out a rumbly squak... and drops Piotr against the ground, all before it takes off after the siblings with a chilling squak! Jon truly is leading it off, leaving Piotr bloodied, but still relatively okay on the ground.     It crashes through the trees now, slowed down but unrelenting. And it aims to pluck at whoever of the siblings is the slowest runner.     On the beach Sombra finishes her drink, rolling her eyes at the pun that Reaper delivers. "You really need to work on your comedy routine, you know that...?" Stretching her legs, the hacker rises from her seat. Might as well get ready. "At least La Urraca cleans up after itself..." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Astrafel did not catch the water bottle - point of fact, she let it sail past her and hit the ground. Her eye slips between it and Nicky for a few moments, waiting for it to either explode or start emitting poisonous gas; Yes, these are the sort of things you get trained for. How to fight your body's natural inclincations and avoid the easy traps. 'Don't catch stuff tossed at you by an enemy' is pretty early in the regimen, right next too 'don't look at stuff throw up in the air by an enemy - focus on your aim'. A single eyebrow slowly ratchets up when Nicky explains that she'll be carrying - Nicky. And both relics. After a few heartbeats, she finally picks up the water, cracking the cap and sniffing it once. A finger dab on the water, to the tongue, then cap goes back on and the bottle is tucked away. There's only so far paranoia will get you, after all - and water is water, so long as a taste doesn't make her ill. A few minutes later and she's pounding her way through the trees, a loping jog that's not fast but can be maintained for a -long- time, face strained in determination and teeth gritted. Apparently now a pack mule for a plushie as she speaks between her teeth. On the upstep, of course. "Where - is - the - tower?" The comms tower Nicky had mentioned. Piotr, despite his dazement, has enough sense to crawl away from where the La Urraca dropped him initially. Best not to be there when the bird gets hungry and goes looking for a wounded meal. Although his own gaze is following the slow movement of lights into the thicker jungle, and the crashing of the massive bird behind them. After a few moments, one of the burning bright lights goes out- The one closest to the monstrosity, in fact. The other moving off in a slow tangent direction, before it disappears. And the first one comes back to life, further along in the other direction. When you can't fight, and you can't out-run, perhaps you can out-clever by drawing the magpie from one spot to the other until it gets tired. It's not like the sibling are going to abandon one another; Jon the brother and Jon the sister have that as both flaw and strength. "Afraid you'll die laughing?" Can you guess which word Reaper emphasized? Although it's still delivered with that rasping, dead-pan voice, as if he wasn't even aware it was a joke. Arms uncross as Sombra's words, his sterile white mask turned from the distant crash of the monstrosity to the relatively diminutive form controlling such chaos and destruction. As usual. "Eventually. Now convince it to prioritize the mission over its own existence and I'll be more impressed with the bio-gen wing of research." One arm lifts, reaching under his cowl to tap the side of his mask - to get the transports hot and ready to drop at a moment's notice. Does it burn fuel? Yes. Does Reaper care? No. If he wanted to be in an organization that worried about money beyond its subscribed purpose, he would've joined an accountancy group. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky has a hard time answering - after all Stuffies are pretty mute for the most part, but the tiny stufy she had turned into - a white mouse with a loop on the head - tried her best to point into the right direction bewteen being shaken through like a... stuffie hanging from a backpack. Which she kind of was. She had thought about trying the beach, because the beach could mean 'home delivery' to Reaper and Sombra, but then again, they were asked to call for evac. And being shaken through still wasn't nice... even if you lacked a brain. It was disorienting. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     La Urraca is unrelenting as it follows the siblings, knocking over trees as it advances upon them. Sadly it's frenzied right now, and it soon catches up with one of the siblings. A scream rises throughout the forest, though it stops abruptly, followed by unnerving silence as the light of the relic dies down.     At least until a squak follows again, echoing as it resumes its persuit. The remaining sibling is its next target, and it kicks off the ground as it takes to the skies, massive wings beating it ever upwards... at least until it begins to dive, headed straight for the single lone light. It appears that it has forgotten Piotr right now as it seems to only target the relics now. Which means that it will go after Astrafel and Nicky after it's done with its current target.     Sombra gets her beach chair all folded up, giving Reaper a glance over her shoulder. "Your sense of humour is pretty much dead, Gabe. So I think I'll be fine." He does have a point though, and the hacker gives him a cheeky smile as she finishes packing her items from her little evening at the beach. "That's why you keep me and Araña around, no?" They're far more dependable than some silly bird. Just to add to her point, Sombra reaches out to 'boop' Reaper on his mask as he calls in the transports. "I'm still looking for the day when you need me to go undercover at a fun party, you know. Why don't you ever give /me/ missions like that?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Following the directions of a...stuffie... connected to her pack, Astrafel takes a moment to reflect upon the chain of events and decisions that led her to this point. Being chased by a giant bird-beaked beast through an island towards a comm tower, all in the service of getting glowing rocks to a terrorist organization for a test. And even then, it's only to advance to the next stage of training and integration. It's been a wild ride. As the screams from the forest behind them echo outwards, overshadowed by the crash and smash of the bird beast battering boldly, blithely before boughs, Astrafel finally leaps - tumbles - down a grassy knoll towards a squatting brick and mortar building. Crumbling? Absolutely, with half of it swallowed by a snap-growth of vines and a small tree. But a rusted comms tower still stands proudly upwards, the antennae cluster just barely toping the last wish-ruffled rush of the trees. It's an -old- comms tower, but it's better than flares, fire signals, or trying to swim for it, right? .. Probably. Astrafel's legs jerking as she slows her run-tumble (Trunble?), shoulder battering against the aged and rusted door. Dust popping from aged and rusted bolts. For a few moments, Nicky will have a reprieve. Well, she should've. In a narrative sense, that would've been great. Instead, one can hear the mournful hooting of the Red Dogs somewhere nearby. "Yes. That's why I prefer you both." A pause. ".. to remain alive." Because far be it for Reaper to actually compliment someone without somehow turning it into a threat. His hand dropping away from his mask as he refocuses on Sombra, letting the chaos happening in the star-lit jungle work itself out as he chuckles darly. A slow, dripping laugh that's probably as divorced from 'light humor' as one could get. "You would not like the 'parties' I get invited too." He states, before his growling voice grows more serious. "Find something mission critical that happens at a party, first." Well, at least he's taking her words seriously. For his own detriment, probably. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' As they tumble into the building, Nicky turns mist once again, tumbling to the ground next to Astrafel, somewhat disoriented. Once she has cleared her vision from being shaken around - and still seeping a bit of blood from the leg wound that didn't got any treatment until now - Nicky darts to try to close and block the door in the harsh light provided by the backpack full of artifacts. "Let's just hope that this is a valid approach. Radio I mean. Otherwise: well done... cover them up if you can... I try to get the Radio going in a second." After barring the door with a broken piece of table, Nicky sighs as she looks over the equipment, trying to figure it out. Can't be more complicated than an electic safe, dangit. First things first... Power. With long fingers, she looked for where the power lines came from, finding the dusty and moldy generator sitting in a corner under a sheet, but the fuel tank almost empty. Wincing, she sniffled at the tank inlet, then at the fuel can she had, shrugging before pouring it all into it. It should work... hopefully. After a bit of tinkering and almost prayers, the roaring sound of the generator fills the hut, and some lights flicker on on the radio machine. But getting in some channel that might be listened on was not an easy task for the almost complete amateur, but in the end she tried to send something on 1414 MHz. "This is Talon one and two, requesting transportation. I repeat, Talon one and two requesting transportation." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "I have no intention of dying yet. My brain wouldn't be useful to you if I did," Sombra states. "Just remember that the next time you think we need to talk..." Oh yeah, she still remembers. And hopefully he remembers just what she's able to do. Team Talon interactions can be hard and stressful at times.     "I guess that means I will have to be on the lookout for some fun infiltration opportunities then... and well, I'm surprised if you do get invited to parties at all, Gabe. You're not that lively." He's the one who begun with the puns, so she will damn well drive them home.     Screams rise from the forest, though it's hard to tell what's going on among all the trees. Just where did La Urraca end up? Did the last sibling survive? There are no lights to be seen in the forest.. but something else lights up.     As Nicky powers up the lights in the old comm tower, silence reigns... until a terrifying squak rises from the trees, right before La Urraca does. With no relics to be seen it's drawn to the other light source in the night... Within seconds it has cleared the trees, and it swoops towards the tower. Soon it's there, and it lands on top of the tower, wings spread as its long neck arches down to peer into where the light is coming from...     Down the beach Sombra can't help but arch an eyebrow. "... you'd think they'd learn that it follows the light by now, no?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' As soon as the door is barred from the inside - the first metallic THUMP of a large body is heard, the entire table shuddering under the blow. Astrafel forces herself to lean into the blockage, yelling over her shoulder for Nicky to hurry it up! .. Especially when the mournful hooting becomes louder and shorter, turning more into howling as the faint patter of fists and claws against the metal door is heard. High pitched screams of the Red Dogs working themselves into a killing frenzy, the clunk and clutter of mortar above as they run across the roof. Looking for a way in - looking for a way to find the survivors. The generator sputters and lights flicker, but it holds out enough for dimly lit comms channels to light up. The numbers on their dials have long ago worn out, but the needles still dance as Nicky speaks her ex-fil call into the darkness above. There is the silent crackle of static, filling the empty channel with nothing but the slow eclipse of hope.. Until a voice comes back on. "This is Parrot Three. Copy One and two, ex-fil confirmed, southern beach. Watch for the green lightup. Repeat - this is Parrot Three. One and two, ex-fil confirmed, southern beach. Watch for the green lightup. Confirm relic? Repeat, confirm relic? Parrot Three, over." "What's going on up there?" Hollers Astrafel as the door is slowly, achingly forced back. One quarter inch at a time, the screaming of the mad babboons louder and louder, the light from the relics shining out like a beacon to a world of hurt and hungry - until they suddenly depart. Gone. A hush falling over the comms tower - right up until the bird beast screams and hits it like the fall of god's hammer. The roof creaks and groans beneath the sudden load, mortar and large slabs of fill-crete collapsing downwards. It's a lot LOUDER in person that one might think! Reaper merely growls to the 'next time you think we need to talk', metal gauntlets creaking as he flexes his hands. And then his sterile white mask turns towards Sombra again, before he drops the pun bomb. "I always drop the beat." And then his mask turns towards the jungle where the com lights are flickering weakly, just barely seen through their view of the comm tower. "There's no choice by hard choices. By design. We're going to have a very.. very small graduation ceremony this year." A dark chuckle, before he nods aside. "Set the green stain." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "I confirm, repeat, confirming two relics!" Nicky yells into the comm, just as the shriek from the bird fills the air, and then the roof shivers. Startled, she clings to the comm, her face pale. Nodding to Astrafel, she dashes for the backpack, picking it up before hurling herself towards the door. "South beach. I guess we came from there. It's a walk, but we might wait for the bird to leave first. The no encumbrance way again? It might have come for the relics." she replies, only waiting for a short nod to transform into a small stuffie, snuffing out the light of the relics, and lessening the load to a small red panda. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     La Urraca is ferocious enough to scare off even the Red Dogs, it appears. It makes a weird cross between a rumble and a clucking sound at the back of its throat as it tilts its head to peer in through the windows. What's the light in there? Also... are there any edible things in there?     Honestly, Reaper's little 'talks' isn't much of a dialogue, now is it?     "At least we know that these recruits are able to handle rough situations when they're done..." she muses, then nods at the order. It's quick for Sombra to open up a holoscreen, and she types in a few commands. In response sensors underneath the sand light up, shining through as the sand takes on a green hue for the survivors to see.     "I trust you'll be able to handle La Urraca if she follows them here," she states calmly. She herself is glad she has a translocator ready on one of the transports.     At the tower La Urraca blinks, then begins smashing its beak against the glass as it tries to get to both Nicky and Astrafel, willing to even destroy the tower itself to get at them and the relics. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "If it lives, -I- can kill it." Hisses Reaper, his voice dripping through the mask as he reaches down to his waist. And slowly, almost lovingly, draws his hands upwards - revelling in the Hellfire Shotguns as they form from the darkness about him, woven by the very threads of his curse. Thick biceps curl, the shotguns resting across his own shoulders as he watches the jungle ahead. Before nodding aside. "Yesss.. Very few will survive the regime I put forth to train them. Those who do will live to a ripe age before their inevitable doom, for nothing this multiverse can give to them will stop them; Death's Mercy." Someone is feeling their oats! Moments later, and far away, Astrafel is already pumping her arms and legs in a flat out run to the south - her flesh marred with green smears and rips where she'd been shoving through the forest, even as La Urraca continues to tear and rip into the comms tower. Lights flicker - die - as sparks ripple outwards from the decrepid thing. Whatever training group passes through here next time will have to find something else to signal the Talon ex-fil with. But why is Astrafel running flat out when the bird beast is distracted elsewhere? Why- The Red Dogs are on her heels. Their mournful hoots taking over the night as they converge, after the meat left the vicinity of the massive, flying overlord of this place. The mournful hoots growing faster and faster as they close in. Astrafel shouting between steps - "Nicky! Do! Something!" She's out of ideas. Any good ideas besides 'run'. And sometimes that's the only idea you have left. As they hit the spot where sand starts intermingling with the green tapered roots of the jungle - another group comes out of the bush to their left. The Two Jons. One of them having lost an arm, the tissue scorred with chemical heat to close off the wound. And dragging behind them all an old wooden chest. Light drift-wood composite, with bright light shining through along the sand as it's dragged forward as fast as the two can drag it. Finally? Finally, there is a faint disturbance in the air as drop ships pass by the southern beach. Rapidly circling to the other side of the island before releasing FLARES. Bright, sparkling flares that jump and skitter in the air to hopefully draw the bird beast's attention off the landing point. Long enough for them to circle back around, optical camo flickering away. As the disturbed air begins to blow sand about the green stained area - as they ripple along Reaper's cowl - the sterile white mask turns back to Sombra. "Handled." He growls. Killing the bird beast needlessly is a waste. And it didn't serve the mission. Although his mask turns back towards the approaching groups - coming in for a collision, in fact - with Astrafel having a pack of Red Dogs hot on her heels. And getting louder, angrier, and closer as they rush towards the ex-fil location. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     As if on cue Reaper begins his edgy talk, and in reaction Sombra can't help but roll her eyes with an exaggerated sigh as she blows some of those coloured locks away from her face. "I swear... go one day without talking about death, and I'll go one week without calling you Gabe."     With the two groups running along the beach, the Red Dogs hot on their heels, it's a dangerous situation. Sadly enough, the siblings haven't managed to completely block out the light from the relic...     Back at the comm tower La Urraca perks its head up, and then it flaps its wings once and lets out a shuddering cry that carries across the sand and ocean. Then it's airborne again and joining in on the pursuit... At least until the bright flares rise skyward, catching its attention with another shriek. Off the monsterous bird goes, and it rides the winds with great urgency.     Sombra in the meanwhile calmly watches the groups running towards them... with howling primates of doom right behind them. "Seriously, we need to teach them stealth, don't we?" she sighs as she shakes her head. How are they going to be able to pull off mission if they are this loud? The woman steps forward, already using her virtual keyboard to do something. The four recruits run across the greenlit sand, and the moment the Red Dogs approach the line... they howl out in pain, shuddering as they pull back, twitching as they grab at their heads. One of them is quickly slamming its hands into the ground, letting out angry roars. All while Sombra just glances at the Red Dogs... and turns a button on the keyboard, causing the primates to cry out again before they pull back. It doesn't appear they are a danger any more.     "You better have your relics... because it's time to leave," she announces. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky can't really do much, let alone answer, in her state, clinging to the chest of Astrafel as they dash through the djungle. She could of course turn back, turning into a heavy burdoned girl with a knife... but that would lower their survival chances as they surely would not reach the beach together. Luckily being light however is kind of enough, as they enter the greenlit zone, and the monkeys fall behind. Almost with a glad smile on her face, Nicky plops back from her plushie self, ending up in a hug from Astrafel, as she fails to let her loose fast enough, but the backpack shines like a beacon still. "Mind... letting me go?" Nicky whispers to her 'partner', freeing herself of the arms and pointing to her backpack. "We have." she claims, but her left hand lingers on the heft of her blade, just in case Jon and Jon try something. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Promises." Growls Reaper to Sombra, as the four hit the Green zone. "Survive when stealth fails. Survive when the mission is wrong. Survive when death walks - then work on stealth." Safety - relatively speaking. The bird beast distracted, the lights in the relics dying away to nothing but seeming simple stone within the first step. Nothing to see but the faint glow of green from the stain below, and the dull, slow red strobe of the lights leading up to the ramp - all low key, to avoid attracting attention as much as possible while avoiding something as stupid as stubbing a toe on the edge of the ramp. Reaper's mask watching the Red Dogs as they approach, his metal gauntlets twitching with the thought of slaughter - and reasonable slaughter as well, well within mission parameters - before Sombra's tech does its job. As it always do. Someday, Reaper - someday it'll fail. Growling once, he simply lets the guns drop to the sand. Where they begin evaporating, smoke curling away from the handles as he approaches all four recruits. Although, Jon the Sister seems particularly out of it, barely standing, her face gone pale with bloodloss. Jon the Brother having more than a few deep cuts across his side as well, cleaner than one would expect for a giant bird beast. Smaller too. Probably how he got the relic away from Sha - took the hit and kept running. Each Relic is studied in metal claws, turned slowly - before being passed off to the crew disembarking from the drop ship, securing this small section of beach. And dragging out six bodies - the other recruits. It's obvious who they are by the jumpsuits, pajamas, and what not they died in, but each cadaver is - emptied. Shriveled, as if it had been mummified in the space of only a few hours, more than a couple with exageratted holes in midsection. Laid out to the side, a 'relic' to their own failure. And then Reaper clasps his claws behind him, growling as he speaks to the recruits. "Humanity is always being tested.." He begins, borrowing a line from Akande. "And those who fail? They will be forgotten. You will never have a statue built in your honor.." A soft snarl. "You will never be thanked. You will never be allowed to follow in ignorance. But.." Here, his voice lowers. ".. But you will be remembered. You will lead. You will make a difference, in this world and every world you touch. This was your crucible, your turning point. From here, you will grow stronger, faster, harder. There will be no enemy you cannot face, no matter how large, no matter how obligue. Today you are no longer a cog in a faceless mass - today, recruits, you are reborn. You are purpose, defined and distilled. And the worlds will learn to shudder at the shadow of your passing." "Twelve came in. Four walked out. Welcome to Talon." There is a click of palm to chest, two thumps; The salute of darkness, without risking exposing an officer or taking eyes off the goal of keeping the area safe. Reaper stepping aside, gesturing for the four to board the dropship. Even as - from the jungle - two more people come out. Sha and Piotr. As the mournful hooting begins? Sha hisses, stabs Piotr in the leg with an arrow, and slips back into the wilderness. She'll just have to survive until the -next- batch of recruits - and four more relics. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "A battle that you win cancels any other bad action of yours. In the same way, by losing one, all the good things worked by you before become vain." Nicky quips, looking along the beath, hand at the knife still and quoting the art of war. Machiavelli. Offering Astrafel a hand, she nods to the transport. "Let's get out of here... managed to come through without too much an injury..." she says, as she starts to limp towards the ramp and up, strapping into a seat. 
}}

5370/Dead Man Plushing

2017-07-12T21:20:44Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/07/12 |Location=Void - Super Solar System |Synopsis=Time to gauge Nicky. |Cast of Characters=1115, 968, 1117 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:''..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/07/12
|Location=Void - Super Solar System
|Synopsis=Time to gauge Nicky.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 968, 1117
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Time to see what's in the box they bought, metaphorically speaking. While Reaper knew a lot of Nicky's prowess from her run through the Yorke repository, and could make a few deductions on her lack of bio-signs and inability to break bones in plush form, there was still the question of mental preparedness - something he also needed to pull their -other- potential in on. But for now, with the current mission complete, Reaper turns his attention towards the simple act of organization maintenance. If your organization isn't growing, after all, it's dying. There is no static place to be. Thus, the training grounds. Ranging from 'basic physical capability' to 'warzone', and then more esoteric excercises as the agent's expectations went up. Esoteric - and clandestine. It was the same pace any Talon agent was put through; The same one Sombra went through originally, to get her physical capabilities in par with her technical expertise. Right now it's a large area along an ocean shore, the smell of salt and the crash of freezing water hitting jutting rocks below. It's here that Nicky has been called, a small transport offered. No windows, of course, so she'll never know precisely where she's at in the multiverse. But beyond the strict control of information to the untested, the whole 'request' has been on the up and up. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky arrived pretty much on time to the transport, but then getting tossed out at the ocean shoreline, she squinted into the sun, glaring at the transport. "Next time tell to bring sunscreen and a hat." she quips, hands in her pockets, eying the seashore with the long road. "Now, what is this. 'Boot camp' with footprints on the floor? Or do I get a training montage up and down the stairs at night? Or do I have to run away from a car while someone shouts that I shall run?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The Talon agents who escorted Nicky in say nothing, clicking their heels together briefly before moving off. Leaving her just as the cloying black smoke slithers up along the ramps, curling around target drones simulating incoming fire for new recruits to dodge and push against. Around the various exposed machinations meant for the simple act of pushing one's body against gravity, from hard landings to harder climbs. Coiling up on itself, bubbling slowly as it thickens, and from it steps - The Reaper. Trails of that black smoke still clawing at his shoulders as he tilts his head - then tilts it a bit more until it pops. With a thick *crack*. "This is where take the measure of your life.. " He begins, his voice a low, raspy growl. As always. "The start of making you more effective. For us - and for yourself." The mask dips again, his voice lowering an octave. "Do not hold back. Everything from this moment forward will be based on your performance. Customized. You'll be doing yourself a disserve - and wasting -my- time. An unforgivable sin." Insert dark chuckles. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky cracks her fingers as she eyes the parcours, perking her ears a moment. "Well, at least I don't hear a carpton of cicadae. So, what you want me to do, Mister Reaper. Or was it Gabe?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A hissed breath from the mask, and a warning growl. "My name.. is Reaper. Sombra's talent cannot be replaced if I shoot her in the back of the head; Do not make the same assumption." He then crosses those arms over his chest, cowl lowering as he considers. "We can take basic physical prowess after - so let's start with what makes you interesting. Your transformation. How often can you do it?" Here, the masked head tilts. "And what happens if you do it -faster-?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Awwwww~"     The sound is sudden as it can be heard next to Reaper, all before a familiar shimmer can be seen as Sombra herself appears, her elbow reaching up to rest on top of Reaper's shoulder. "I knew you cared about me, Gabe. You're so sweet." Of course she can't resist the chance to make fun of her superior, right?     Her glance turns to Nicky next, and she grins. "Hola, amiga. Too bad you threw away the skull, it tasted rather sweet. Ready for some action and testing? It's not too bad, honestly." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky cocks her head with a little grin "If you shoot me, what do you gain but expenses?" she replies, then returns to some rather nonexpressive face as she musters the Reaper. "How ofen? Never tried to count, but probably as often as I like, need and want. But what exactly you mean by faster? It takes a bit of time, sure, but usually it is fast enough to save my butt unless it is a bunch of bullets." she replies to the Reaper, looking for something to lean on, but finding the lack of fences or something disturbing. "What you want me to do?" The last line is more to Sombra. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Satisfaction." States Reaper simply to Nicky's question. Did.. did he just make a joke? Which is when Sombra comes over with her gushing, snarky desire to be friends with everyone still breathing. And a few not. He turns his head slowly as she rests her elbow upon his broad shoulder, but makes no motion to shift it just yet. That low snarl rippling out from his throat before his attention goes back to Nicky. "That's precisely what I mean. Moving in and out of your .. alternative form .. as fast as possible." He considers for a moment, then jerks his head to the side. "Follow." Finally dropping his crossed arms as he moves across the training field, heavy metal boots clunking along the metal plates. And that's right - no safety rails. No fences. Nothing to stop the unwary from tumbling off to a non-lethal but painful fall to the rocks below the raised training platforms. Talon believes in personal responsibility, and an agent who doesn't know their footing deserves the 'break'. The machine he approaches? A simple metal bar on a column. Motorized to spin, starting slow and moving faster as the revolutions pick up speed... there's even a small target near the top. About the same place one would find the throat on an average grown man, coincidentally Can you see where this is going? 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "If he shoots you he does get some satisfaction at least," Sombra shrugs as she falls into step with Nicky, following Reaper as he leads the way. And as they walk, the hacker turns to the younger woman with an amiable smile crossing her lips. "A few tips for this course, chica... do it your own way. What matters is that you get through it. Relajate, breathe and just focus on the path ahead, don't look down."     With that the hacker lets Reaper explain matters from here. If she takes over then he's likely to get grumpy. Besides, she's tried his patience a bit too much lately, so let's give him a little break. For now. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "I've no vertigo, if that makes you better." Nicky replies to Sombra as she follows along, her eyes wandering over the obstacles and trying to find solutions that wouldn't slow her down too much. Approaching the first machine, she shruggs a moment, then searches her pockets in a rather obvious manner, finally just bringing a pair of gloves to surface that seem to have been 'forgotten' by one of the guys that brought her here. Casually a metal bar follows, though the hammered surface indicates it is not of Talon origin. Instead, the quick flicked movement to reveal what hides between proves it is just an ordinary butterfly, with wich she turns the full gloves into half finger ones with a bit of cutting and ripping.     "Anything goes, huh? just get to the other end of the track and don't drop?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You're going to get away from that black and white thinking." Snarls Reaper, as he gestures towards the course itself. That sterile bone white mask of his lowering as it focuses on Nicky. "Red and blue. What you can't do versus what you can. I don't care if you drop - the only goal is to make it to the end. Teleporting or crawling on broken legs from a fall, whatever you give will be.. incorporated.. on the next trial. We'll find your limits, and then? We'll show you how to exceed them." A low, slow hiss from the Lord of the Edge, even as the course begins to swing into action. Poles - hard metal, no padding - swing with low whuffing sounds, different speeds and from different tilts. Gaps at odd places, with non-standard landing angles. Even a few drones waiting with mechanial patience for something to trigger their sensors so they can fire forward. Hopefully with pellets - I mean, it is Nicky's first day, right? "Finishing the mission is not failure - fear failure above all else." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Good for you, vertigo is a perra," Sombra grins, then moves to sit down on the side while Reaper explains the task at hand for Nicky. In the meanwhile she brings up some more screens so she can work on something. What? Who knows... "So are we going for a cuter and fluffier look for Talon then, Gabe?" she asks, arching an eyebrow. "Or are we going to go into espionage?" A fluffy spy could be useful. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Chuckling a moment, Nicky slips into the quickly modified gloves, stretching the fingers a second time. "you're takign a timer or just want me to get to the other side?" she asks before moving to the start, the butterfly knife getting stuffed into the back jeans pocket. She's more than a spy, she is a thief. And a parcours? Slipping on some sunglasses 'borrowed' by some pilot, she turns around to eye the uneven couple of Sombra and Reaper.     "I know Parcours." she immitates some movie, standing with her feet at the edge of the solid ground, the jacket doing a poor immitation of a black trenchcoat in the light wind. Vaulting herself forward from a low position, she seems to miss the intended pathway on the first two yards, but then her left hand grabs for the rail that was intended to be walked about, turning the free fall into a swing to under the structure. Hand by hand she moves forward under the first obstacle, swinging herself up just after it into a crouch. Jumping forward, she vaults herself over a bar moving along the path in short salti that keep her just out of reach of the hard metal.     The bars moving like a speeding up grate, or the good old swinging blade over the path seem to slow her forward movement a moment, but it is just adjusted timing: Nicky runs up the first pole 'swinging', balancing on the tip before starting to jump and then run from one to the next, moving over the obstacle instead of through it. The last pole stops her as she turns around, seeming to meditate a moment before letting herself fall backwards. Using the arms, she turns the fall into a backwards roll over her shoulder. Two times she rotates backwards, then pushes herself up into a handstand, the legs flopping over and bringing her back to a standing position just in time for the shooting path... 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "We're doing what is necessary, first. Not what's pleasant." Growls the Reaper, before adding as an aside. "And my name, is Reaper." Arms remain crossed in front of his chest as he watches their newest potential scramble under and beneath the trouble he'd made for her - quietly taking notes on how to make things -harder-. You move for impossible, and then you let them find a way to do it anyways. "An organization that does not grow is withering.. and will die. Talent is an enviable gain, and those -remnants- are not standing still." That didn't really answer the question, did it? Before Reaper begins walking into the course himself, smoke trailing from his cowl. The first bar whuffs through him, semi-solid, as do the next as he strides. Nicky is a thief - he's an ethereal killer. His form diffusing as he follows after Nicky's efforts at a sedate pace, simply allowing things that want to do him harm to slide through his smoking frame with a whirl of black mist. "You'll be timed, later. For now, finish the mission." Growls the Reaper from behind Nicky, his voice stranger than normal - semi solid as he is, while he's reforming again. Which is when the drones click and begin to move forward at the sound. A few shuddering as they launch fat, hard pellets along the path in a cacaphony of ringing metal where it strikes. Getting hit by those? That's going to hurt. After a few seconds of silence they slow their barrage, and begin swinging their turrets back and forth. Nicky's in a semi-safe spot at the moment, where their sensor range does not extend. For the moment. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky chuckles as she eyes the drones shoot and clear the path with beanbags and rubber pellets. She may have come to a halt, but not a stop. With the left she pulls the butterfly again, opening it with a SNICK sound and the swift hand movement, arrestign the halves of the grip together. Those knives started out as fisherman's knives on the philippines, but to Nicky it was just another utility knive. And utility knives were to be used as tools. To Nicky, the tool of choice was something test if the drones would jump for movement - and so she threw it after one of the drones.     Not overly well aimed, but it was on the way to the right drone as Nicky jumped after one on the right, hands stretched out to grab for the frame, hoping to either use it to haul her along the path, turn the automatons against each other or use them as stepstones to get forward. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Right right," Sombra agrees with Reaper. "You didn't answer my question though~" There's a tease to her tone, and she smiles for herself as she clicks on her screen, clearly not intent on following Nicky through the training course. Reaper saw to it that she finished it when she first joined the organisation in what seems ages ago.     Notes are written though, and this whole session is being recorded for training purposes.     "So Gabe, when are we going to test new recruits with written exams?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "When I'm certain they're worth the time." Growls 'Gabriel' lowly, not bothering to hide the communication. He remains where he is, though, watching Nicky work her way through the first challenge course.. Sure enough, as the knife flips through the air the drones twist to follow its motion. The pellets clanging through the air as they fire upon it - even as Nicky leaps for the next one. The sound and sudden motion draws the attention of the drones to the one being perched upon - which immediatly receives a bucket load of blasting. It, in turn, twists and begins firing upon its attackers. If Nicky's objective was to get the dumb automata to turn on itself, she's been more than successful. Using them as stepping stones towards the finale would be kid's play. Which is why The Reaper simply begins walking forward again, a mobile knot of smoke that slithers in and out of a recognizable form - like watching the clouds above slowly shift in and out of shapes. The solid clunk of his metal boot on the final step heralds his arrival, even as his voice growls again. "What was the objective of this track?" 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Jumping from drone to drone as they fought each other, Nicky danced and swung from one to another, flinching as some spray of a close hit burned over her cheek. Swinging her way into the next obstacle, the girl rolled over the ground of the track. A low sweeping beam of iron passed over her head and back as she slipped over the floor on the belly, then pushed herself up to get back in motion, taking a run to pass over a series of incomign beams by using each to rise over the next until she finally could drop onto the last part of the test, a vertical way down. Instead of using the rails and stepstones, she just let herself fall. With a plopp she turned white mist, quickly condensing into a bunny of natural size... and plush makeup.     With just a light bounce, the white bunny in vest, hat and equipped with a fake clock sewn to the hand landed on the finish line, shaking the useless thing with the fixed number on it. A minute to 5. Always. Late? LATE!? NEVER! 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The Reaper watches the last mad dash to the finish line without commentary, his mask and cowl lifting as his hidden gaze watches the transformation for the fall - and the triumph of the White Rabbit making time for the Queen. Well, Lord of Edge. A curious, slow and morbid chuckle curdling from that mask as the arms unwind, heavy boots thumping as he walks towards the plushified mutant. His sterile white mask looking up and along the track again. "Agile. Quick. Assets that can be honed. Strength as well. You didn't strike at any of the machines... a lack of killer instinct or a tendency to avoid fights. Useful in a survivor." His commentery continues, even as he turns away. Metal gauntlets clasped behind his back as he answers his own prior question. "But the objective was to get to this side. Nothing else, no time limit. That was the mission." His cowled head turns, the edge of his sterile white mask shown. ".. So why didn't you just walk around the course and to the other side?" Jackass. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The bunny flails with the clock, then plops to get back to human shape. It takes a moment to evaporate and recondense, but Nicky glares at Reaper as she is back. But she does push 'her' sunglasses back to the right position, properly hiding the eyes. "Getting off the course, walking over here, climbing up? would have taken me about the same time. And why stop to fight an obstacle in a fight that will just slow you down? You said get here, I got here. In one piece and one try." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Debrief." Growls the Reaper, but his tone is milder as he continues. "The mission was a success; Now we go back over it to see what could've been done better. The option to walk around to your objective won't be there next time. Nor will drones that fire on each other, or a lack of a timer." His heavy boots clank against the panels as he paces to a good spot, crossing his arms again. Giving Nicky his full and complete attention. "Debrief - we go over everything you did right. And everything that could be done better. If this situation comes up again, you'll have better plans. Tell me again - why not go around the course and climb up the other side, where there are no guns or spinning poles? Be as honest.. as the grave." .. Talon Dad Joke. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "The ground is unprotected, but uneven. It doesn't allow to gain momentum and climbing up is slower than swinging and falling. It would have been a route, but you said you wanted to see what I can do in contrast to others, and circumnavigating everybody can." Nicky replies, following Reaper, letting the sunglasses drop just enough to peer over the edge of them. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The Reaper doesn't argue the point, because it's true. But that wasn't the purpose behind a debrief. Instead, a low breath hisses out of his mask as he considers the next question. "Why not disable the swinging poles, then? Their mechanisms were exposed, and you had no time limit. If I had placed something at the end - or changed your objective to be back at the beginning mid-way through - you would've had to handle the exact same situation you'd just gone through. Why leave an enemy at your back?" It doesn't sound like a complaint or nitpicking - it sounds like an honest question. Albeit, snarled through a voice that's a half step from screaming, raspy and broken. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "It wasn't a hindrance in either direction. Sure, exposed mechanics, but why bother with leaving extra evidence, when you can just run past and ignore it? Took me... three secponds to pass under the rotating pole thing, and maybe ten or fifteen to get over the swingers? Also already had the momentum to get up, so, why loose it?" Nicky shruggs, pointing to the obstacle in question. "Wasn't too much a hassle." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "By your estimation.." begins the Reaper, his voice getting dangerously low. ".. there was no improvement you could have made to your run through the gauge course." He lets those words hang like meat-hooks in a horror show, before a slow and dark chuckle escapes the mask again. A clawed thumb flicks over his shoulder, towards a small station set to the side. "Have your vitals taken, and the medical team will put you on a treadmill to gauge your endurance. When they're done... contact either Sombra or myself. There is one last thing to handle today - for a mission completed successfully. Even a small one." A hiss of breath, and the Reaper's mask lifts again. "Dismissed." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Oh, I could have been faster... had to stop and slow at some spots, plushied too fast and lost velocity on the fall, The drones were a mess... But all in all... I guess pretty good." Nicky injects, then sighs as she looks at the medic station. "Great... One turn in the grinder. Next time put on some challenge..." 
}}

5324/Running The 'Edge'. Get It

2017-07-07T18:24:30Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/20 |Location=Spring |Synopsis=Reaper and Sombra do some talent scouting. On Nicky. |Cast of Characters=1115, 968, 1117 |pretty=yes }} {{Pos..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/20
|Location=Spring
|Synopsis=Reaper and Sombra do some talent scouting. On Nicky.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 968, 1117
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' 'Word' trickles down, somewhere on Earth 616 - a job. Small enough that the usual mercs are turning it down, big enough to attract the Z-listers, but the 'employer' is being awful picky about who they're letting in on the circle. And the usual rumors abound: AIM making another play? The Serpent Society? Zodiac Cartel? Hard to really say. But the contact was solid enough to convince a few finders looking for their fees to pass word along. In another universe, they might've been called Johnsons. The meet-up itself is the first floor of a small high-roofed warehouse - where else? - with a single bare bulb swinging slowly in the dusty air. Miscellaneous crates are stacked high into the darkness, giving the area something of a 'pit' feel. The sillouette of a figure can be seen, back turned towards the table, features cowled for the moment. Unmoving. And we do mean unmoving, not even a shift of shoulders one might expect from breathing. And wouldn't you know it, the contact's name was given simply as 'Nevermore'. Someone has a sense of the dramatic. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky tried to stay away from 'home' most times, because Earth 616 not only held bad memories, they had files on her. Enough to make her really wary about police and any other state actor. But it was just about the right time to pay a bit of respect to those that were gone, and it was also an opportuity to possibly take a little job. After having met a fence she knew, she heard of the contract for offer - and the guy being seemingly especially picky. Wouldn't be the first time she took something slightly fishy. And of course, it was a Warehouse. Nicky had prepared before, taking some basic B&E tools with her in a small and flat bag hidden under her shirt, and like a backpack, a collapsed Henry AR-7 survival rifle rode on her back, but under the jacket. "Mister Nevermore." Janie said, as she spotted the figure at the table, her hands on the hips, and taking some precaution not to step into the cone of light coming from the hanging lamp illuminating it. "The details on the job weren't very precise, but I understood enough, that you need an expert to extract some item." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The sound of shifting; Like sand curling along the wooden surfaces, the dust that floats slowly in the air whirling as if in a passing breeze. A whisper of sound, the figure's cowl shifting slowly as what appears to be smoke passes along its fringe. And then a voice - FROM BEHIND. Because why not? "One item." Begins a voice, a practical growl with low reverb. But the figure itself? It definitely -looks- shady, a dark cloak with almost ritualized drappery and dim purple trim. Black claws for hands. Large, black metal combat boots. And, of course, a mask - that looks like a giant raven's head. Complete with eyes that glow a slow, wisping purple. I mean, what did you expect with a name like Nevermore? The beaked mask tilts down, the glowing purple gaze shifting down and back up as the figure moves into the cone of light on his own. Shoving the mannequin in the cowl aside, letting it clatter to the ground as 'he' takes its place. The light casting a sharp line across the line of his beak - which doesn't move, of course. So at least he's not -really- a bird man raven thing. "One item, from one location: The Yorke Antique repository. Do not be fooled by the quaint name.. I can assure you of their severity when it comes to protecting their acquisitions." The last word is nearly hissed, before the hand dips beneath the cape - and brings out a manilla envelope. Bulging. "Details. And half up front. I don't think I need to explain what happens if you don't.. follow through?" NEVERMORE SKIN: http://tinyurl.com/y7hqalyd 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "We don't know each other in that case. But allow me three questions: Yorke Antique as in Yorke Antique Textiles, Canada? How large's the item? And how much is it?" Nicky asks as she slips into the cone herself, brushing her hair into position in a short pose, then changing her weight to the back leg.     "I take you have the plans, photos and details on security, maybe even special plans how you want the item to be taken, wrapped and delivered, but all those can come after those three questions, for two of them determine if I take the job." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Yorke Antiques, out of California." Whispers the growling voice, the black clawed hand creaking slowly as it grips the manilla envelope. "Dealers in antiquity. Your task is in one of their repositories. The object itself is spherical - a small, ceremonial skull. Like you'd find in a monkey.." Here, the voice drops an octave. ".. or a child." There is a pregnant pause, before the larger figure holds out the envelope. Materials within shifting at the change of angle. "Basic recon, only. The interior of the local is unknown save for 'public' records on file - as are the precise counter measures you're going to have to go against. There's a reason we're paying for this - and that reason is the supposed 'talent' for hire. As for how you deliver it.." A slow, hiss of breath between the beak's halves. "Unbroken and undamaged. Exfil happens once its out of the physical local and secure." The manilla envelope, if taken, holds a rather nifty sum of money. All in folded paper, of course, because cards are trackable. Also require the user to have some sort of account available in the local universe, but shhh. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky nods on the revelation of the dimension and place, then she moves to the table further, the shadow in her face shifting a bit, taking the last emotions from her face by hiding them in shadows.     "Unbroken and undamaged is clear. A nice envelope..." she say as she picks it up, weighing it carefully before taking a peek in to check the currency. "And nicely filled. So, one... ceremonial skull it was? Bone or crystal? that decides a bit what kind of container will be needed." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A low, dark chuckle from the needlessly shadowy figure. "Bone. Not as fragile as crystal - but close." Comes the single answer, the beaked mask tilting upwards now. Purple gaze hidden behind the birdy profile on one side, leaving a single glowing gaze to peer at the mutant thief. "Your trip to the location is offered - as is your exfil once off site. But the assumption is you'll be able to handle yourself on the ground. Acquisitions." He clarifies, voice still a grave growl, before black claws fall back against his own side. Twitching, as if they'd rather be filled with something else. "Do we have an accord?" 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Oh, I know how to handle on site... just the plans would be really nice. But I can probably manage without. We have a deal. Just the date when to start the action remains... I have time starting pretty much now, just need to grab a bag of things." Nicky answeres, her eyes somewhat cast in the shadow, of her forehead, but keeping them more or less on the peak of the beak. Just a simple trick, as people seeemded to be unnerved when one stares into the eyes. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Now is better." Begins 'Nevermore', clawed hands once more dipping into the cowled cape it - he - wears, to pull forth a small comm-link. The tech is definitely multiversal, or at least high-end 616. Something that doesn't depend on things like 'coverage' or 'signal strength', because who needs that junk? The glowing, misty purple gaze does not waver one iota when the smaller thief meets his gaze - rather, a dark, ominous chuckle rolls out of the figure before that comm-link is laid upon the table as well. "You'll stay in contact with us.. with -me-.. through this. When you're ready to depart, -I'll- make the arrangements. Otherwise, your success is on you.. child." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "I need just about 20 minutes to grab the bag." Nicky says as she tucks the envelope into an inner pocket of her jacket, then picks up the tool, turning it between her fingers for a few seconds.     "I don't think you'll have to reschedule the transport too much. I will be right back. Anything else?" Nicky asks, stepping back twice from the table, the hand with the communicator tucking into her outer pocket, together with the hand. "Because otherwise, I fetch the bag." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The bird masked figure tilts its head again, and begins slowly stepping out of the cone of light as it speaks. "Only this: Do not disappoint." The voice snarls, the purple lights glowing dully in the shadows beyond that cone of light. There is a soft whisper of sound once more, sand trickling across wood. "Your flight.. will be waiting in the lot." Comes the response to her being right back. One purple light goes out, and then the other - like candles in the wind. The single bulb light swinging a bit harder now - nothing there. Gone~ Out in the lot, of course, there is a flicker as a Talon hot-drop transport goes live. Dropping the thermal camo to push power towards engines. A black cloud swirling through the intake vents, reforming on the inside. A small craft, two seats in the back and the cabin seperated by a featureless door. To keep the 'pilot and copilot' uninterrupted, of course. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky nods as she turns, moving away to the door she came in. She only takes a quick jog down the road to the old building she had deposited her 'travel light' bag in - just a few not so small items one wouldn't want to miss when doing a job - rope, rappeling harness and glove as well as a few slightly larger tools like a crowbar.     About ten minutes later, she is back in the warehouse, taking the jog through to the gate to the lot, pushing herself against the dust cloud to get the the entry door. Squinting the eyes, she pulls herself into the hatch, tossing the bag under one of the chairs before strapping herself in. Finally, she pulls an old Walkman out of the bag, starting up the tape, getting greeted by rapid guitar runs... well known for it is ACDC's Thunderstruck, calling a somewhat wicked smile onto her face. "Let's get ready to rumble." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The bird mask it put aside, for now, left on the armrest that seperates pilot from co-pilot. Reaper - Gabriel - drawing a slow breath through... well, lets call it a 'nose'. For old time's sake. Feeling the creeping burn of his quote unquote flesh exposed to the air for the brief moment it takes to put his proper, sterile bone white mask on. The head mask sealing itself over his "neck", squeezing as it seals. "Alright, chicita. Let's see what you've got." His voice is - wrong. WRONG. But fortunately, there's no one about to hear it, or the current of dark humor beneath it while the mask seals itself shut. The faint whirr and crunch of screws into his forehead, pulling it tight. And the humor's gone. Clawed gauntlets flick switches, letting auto-pilot handle the brunt of the work as he lays in a course. With a smooth leap the transport heads upwards, curling upward on a stomach dropping acceleration. Talon doesn't hang around. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The flight to california takes a few hours - even the multiverse has a concept of travel time, despite the warp gates. But eventually the featurless 'flight deck' of the small transport shudders, ears popping as it begins to descend. And then descend faster, a hard drop that just as quickly levels out, vibrations rattling through the chamber- Before the hatch hisses and opens. A fast drop, the engines still rumbling as it holds the vessel off the ground. The sky above is just starting to turn grey, extreme early morning - Fewer souls, and potential witnesses less alert than the early night. A nondescript industrial area where the noise would be less out of place as well. There is no announcement made over the comms, but the intent should be very, very obvious. If Nicky took the time to look over the documents given, she's got the basics; Address of the repository, basic photographs of the exterior, the 'public' records of the interior. A private repository for the Yorkes, a wealthy couple of antique dealers with high end clientel and tastes. Maybe thirty or fourty 'transactions' a year, which gives you a high end value of what they procure. Or how busy they are. Needless to say, it's not meant to be open to the public. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' On the flight, Nicky had taken the time to skim through the thin portfolio, reading each page twice and triple to memorize the plans, using a pen to sketch what she could notice about the inside. Tucking the portfolio into the box for it, she unlatched herself from the chair.     "Ready to go..." Nicky replied via the communicator given to her, picking up the tools she had gathered herself together for what she estimated, and a few she just liked to have around, and then strapped them to her as she got up to jump down the last bit to the ground. "Be ready to pick me up later..." she added, then started to sprint down towards the 'warehouse'. The best strategy was often a daring in and out. Hopefully here too... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Somebody looks rather relaxed about this as usual. With her feet flung up on the dashboard, Sombra is leaning back in the co-pilot's seat, idly looking over some private screens of her that she's put up in front of her, typing away as she eats chips with one hand. Dainty nails pick up a chip, and she bites down on it as her eyes dart to and fro on the screen.     "Where did you find this girl, Gabe?" she asks with some curiousity in her voice.     As Nicky arrives at the repository it might be easy enough to notice that this place isn't a place most people would stop by. For one the building itself is up a driveway in a garden surrounded by tall and thick hedges. What windows are there aren't exactly big, with no seemingly easy access. There's the front door, and a back door. As well as a skyroof in addition to the windows on the first floor. There doesn't seem to be any guards outside, though there is a small separate building nearby. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Beacon Academy. She was the one bitching about her world killing all of her people." States Gabe, his voice still WRONG, waiting for the sterile bone white mask to reseal itself over his face. The 'bird beak' mask of the Nevermore persona still staring from the desk at the broken creature. "Young, angry at the world, a little talent and weird abilities. Thought herself fast enough to get around my calves. Stupid enough to mention she's a thief. Caballo grande, ande o no ande, yeah?" A smirk on .. well, features. Something that tries so hard to twist into -BEING- when it's breaking into -NOT BEING-. The mask finally seals shut. A whirr of the screws; Crunch of bone. And his voice changes - one can almost hear the dark humor dropping away, leaving only the ICEY EDGE OF DARNKESS behind. "Let's see if her life is worth anything.." comes his harsh growl, now. Even as he's moving the shuttle off to park a bit away - somewhere they can still monitor, between Sombra and he. Although he does unbuckle, opening the door that isolates the pilot's cabin from the small flight deck. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' ".. And my name.. is Reaper." He adds, almost as an after thought. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Oblivious of the second observer, Nicky eyes over the building in the garden, mentally connecting the pictures she saw earlier with the structure. Fence. Gate. Door up there. Windows here and there. Topiaries. Her questing eyes looked for cameras, then she pressed herself against the big, iron grate fence... and plopp, turned into a cloud to condense into a small red panda plushie, that right fell through the fence. And the moment she turned, the contact broke off, as the communicator went to Elsewhere. One moment later the plushie dissolved into mist again, only to turn back into the girl. "That was the easy part..." Luckily, the communicator came back with her shape. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Oh, right," Sombra muses. She had been a bit busy at the time looking for opportunities to hack into the place, trusting Reaper to deal with the people. They have gone through this routine quite a few times after all. Though she does look curiously over at him when he cracks that joke. And a smirk tugs at the side of her lips. "I didn't know you could /smile/!" Why, she sounds amused, even more so than normal. When he puts on the mask she's back to typing away at her virtual keyboard. "Oh, a niñita can learn to survive better than one might think..." She did it herself, after all.     With the shuttle parking she stretches her legs some more, not that she needs it probably. "Just get to your spot, and I will do my part, GABE," she repeats, standing up as she brings the screen with her, all while reaching out to boop him on the mask where his nose would be... all while her thermoptic camouflage activates.     Getting past the gate proves to be easy for Nicky, and the grounds remain quiet. Now how is she going to get into the building...? 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' There is an angry hiss from the sterile white mask; Gabe - Reaper - is a whole other person once that thing seals shut. Then again, if you had something screwing itself into your forehead or a body that was WRONG, you'd probably be pissed off all the time too. The Reaper - now in his classic black cowl - moves off the shuttle, taking a moment to look up towards the early morning sky above; Just starting to lighten.. And then he dissolves, curling away like smoke on the wind. And then curling back again... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It's clear that the building isn't mean to be easy to break into. The windows are thick, and the locks on the front and back door are sturdy that can't be opened by a regular lock pick. There are cameras by the doors, not too hard to spot for somebody with experience breaking into places.     The walls can be a bit harder to climb, but there are ridges and things a good climber could use to scale the wall. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky sighs a bit as she remembers the dossier about the windows and door, then she dashes to hide behind the next Topiary, working her way to the side of the building, scanning for an angle to get up to the roof without getting into the field of the cameras. Maybe one of the upper windows wasn't properly closed. Or there was a not so properly attatched roof tile. But in worst case... She could still abort now and mail herself in. But now, she firt gripped for the deeper ridges between the bricks, working herself up the wall towards the second floor and then the roof. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It appears luck is on Nicky's side, as there is indeed a spot on one of the walls where there are no visible cameras. It should also not be too hard to climb from window to window for some people, but alas, no windows appear to be open. It is possible to get to the roof however... and the skyroof that rests above what appears to be a luxurious sitting room. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Using her Parcour skills to the fullest, Nicky works her way up, speeding to the roof edge and then swinging herself up over the ledge to peer down through the skyroof. Eying the transparent item carefully, she opens her jacket to search for a surprisingly simple tools: a long and flat screwdriver. Pushing that between the glass plane and the seal, checking if she can reach the lock... or hinges with it. "Trying a top insertion."     It takes Nicky a few minutes to bend the lock enough to unlatch, the glass plane springing open. With thin fingers, she pulls it up as far as she can, then tries to bend the lock back enough to hide the entry at least to a glance. And then, Plopp! Gone is Nicky and back is the mist cloud, black this time. A split moment later , it condenses into a tiny panda, that promptly throws itself forward through the skylight. Falling, Nicky winces in the expection of the impact on the ground. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The impact to the ground may just bounce Nicky a few times along the cool, pale hardwood floor. No cheap tiles here! Contemporary cushioned reclining couches adorn at angles most pleasing, designed to assist the flow of the room without clutter, while 'minor' antiques occasionally grace niches in the walls to keep the wandering eye occupied. And we mean 'minor' as in 'less than five hundred years old'. In startlingly good condition, at that. A wide hallway smoothly rolls towards the front entrance, never so gauche as to actually expose the viewer to exterior doors or hard angles, while two more hallways are hidden behind blind curves - subtly encoraging a patient wait. It is upon impact with the floor, in fact, that something rather peculiar happens. There is a faint, annoyed buzz, and several small nodes flip out along the walls. A blue horizontal film flickers into existance at floor level, and moves its way up - scanning every minute particle of dust as it jumps up once, then repeats the process at a slower pace. And a final time, as if to be certain nothing was amiss before flickering back out. The small nodes flipping back around again. Curiously high tech for an antiquities repositorie. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Panda-Nicky's face winces, as despite falling pretty slow, it still hurts as she goes into the bounce. Stunned for moments, it is to her benefit that she is just a 'dead object' that has to wait for the pain to ebb away - as the sensors pass along and over the small plushies body without finding any heat or motion. Just a small Object of the temperature outside.     Only as the sensors hide away again, the small panda thing dares to move, trying to orient herself to where the skull might be, but quickly realizing her princess... eh... crystal skull is in another castle... eh, room.     Getting back onto her stubby feet, she slowly tumbles towards the first door she can spot - hoping that some handfulls of plush stepping carefully dosn't activate the scanner again. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' There are no doors - at least, nothing obvious. The bend around which Panda-Nicky travels leads smoothly to a suspended staircase hugging the exterior wall - with a small elevator tucked away, for those who are 'differently abled'. And we mean suspended, as in the planks sink firmly into the wall, with nothing between them - not even a safety rail. Doesn't that just scream hazard? It leads up towards the second floor, giving a curious waste of floor space in such a structure. But, one supposes something has to support the skylight. The second hallway leads more viewing rooms, it would appear at first glance; Areas lit with natural light, only diffused and angled to prevent UV from touching any of the precious commodities. A variety of high backed chairs surrounding glass paned boxes - empty, strangely enough. In order to know more about either direction, Nicky's going to have to make a committment and either move upstairs, or into the next series of proper review rooms. There's always the exit as well, a third path; But not telling how to get out of it, and the skylight she came through is far above her. There is a sense along the back of the spine; A curious feeling of watchfulness. And no -obvious- cameras to explain it. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Climbing the staicase would be a larger problem, relying on the small shape Nicky was in, but at least it didn't seem to trick off the sensors. Step by step, she would have to jump and cling to get up, taking at least a minute or two per step. So instead of working the way up for the better part of half an hour to hour, she choseto check out the room with the empty boxes first. Maybe she could figure out from her low position if they just fancily hid their contents under a false floor and lifted with some mechanic... or find a spot to change into something slightly larger. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' It's not a bad idea at all, as Panda-Plushie wanders into the review room. From her better vantage, she can note the tasteful displays, the swing-down magnification tools artfully hidden amongst the ceiling's decor. There are two other rooms splitting from this spot, again utilizing blind curves to bring the focus into the immediate rather than distracting with the next tantalizing prize. Which is an awful waste of space, to be frank, and leads to some wandering room layout, but one supposes its in the nature of the owner. From her vantage point, she can also note the hidden panels of the podiums; Each a keypad neatly under the umbrella of sloping podium above it, giving the illusion of a complete piece from above. But Nicky isn't looking from above, is she? She's looking from below, and the 'hidden' keypad is quite obvious. It's not so nefarious as, again, hiding the necessary components from casual glance. One could casually stand beside the podium's platform, slide one's hand beneath it and - by feel - key in whatever code one was hunting for. So her instinct does appear to be on the level, in terms of something automated. Speaking of automated, there is that faint, annoyed chime again as more nodules flip out of the wall. A blue field shimmering into existance behind her, at the open 'doorway', while another flits into existence just an inch above the floor. Both sweeping at the same time, but at different speeds - hunting more biological signs, perhaps? Or was it movement that triggered them? Or a third, unknown quantity? 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky doesn't have eye in the back of her head, but catching the faint sound of the tech springing to motion, she drops herself to the floor, trying to play dead as good as she can. But that can't guarantee it, can it? She is just a plushie... at least in look. For now. While being a thief... Just how to bypass the keypad? problem for later... maybe... turn back, screw it open and rewire... but how to evade the scanners?! problem for later... now... playing dead... 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The screen of blue shifts back and forth smoothly, then suddenly jerks and shifts back again. Then forward. Sweeping in a rather random pattern - where it not an emotionless bit of hardware hunting intruders, one might almost think it showed... annoyance? The blue screens disappear, fragmenting into nothingness. But the small nodes along the wall remain exposed as the podiums begin to hum. A faint whiff of cool air circulating out from their base as objects are shunting to the top. Mist filling the boxes above, which click open. There is a faint chirruping sound. Almost bird-like, like a dove with a sore throat. A click and scrape of tiny claws. And then? Dinosaurs. Small compsognathuses, to be precise, their heads bobbing as they sniff the air. Long tails slowly weaving back and forth as they clamber to the hard floor below with the occasional startled cry. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The vanishing of the blue got Nicky back to movement... but Birds?! no... RAPTORS?! Nobody did tell that Tinynicky would have to deal with Jurassic Park! Ok, What to do when dealing with raptors... what was the routine again... outrun the slower of the group? no, nobody to sacrifice. Get tackled and open the jacket one conveniently wears tied around the waist to buy time? No jacket on this pandaplushie Nicky! Have someone else make noise? Nobody with you Nicky and you don't have a printed raptor nostril to 'talk' to them! Wait, noise emitting from an other place might be a way. And then Doors, no, Raptors figure that out after some time. Besides, no door here. Or car to flee into. Or freezer to lock them into. Hide, don't make noises, that was the drill! Ok, the later part is easy being from cloth... but hide without movement?! wait, movement?! MIRROR! Raptors are not the brigtest, with a mirroring surface...     Some frozen moment, Nicky skims through the room with her plastic eyes, then she lunges for a mosaic made entirely from silver coins, stretching up from the floor to hip height on about a foot width, doing her best to hide behind the leg of a chair before jumping up and down and bumping into the chair to make some noise. Clever girl, ain't she? Wait, she isn't a raptor sneaking up to somebody with a shotgun to protect another raptor! 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Not to mention they're compys. Scavengers, for the most part, until they see something they think they can take en-masse. And then? Then they're like tiny piranhas that walk on land. And make bird noises. Well, to Nicky's plushie size, they might as well be raptors. One box above clicks closed again, that faint humming noise as the internals retreat back below the floor level. The faint click of tiny talons as the Compys whistle and warble to one another, natural curiosity driving them to slowly spread out from each podium. There's a few hisses as natural orders are restored, the larger group having been broken up into smaller segments for transport up. And in that confusion, Nicky manages to get herself setup. The tussle of Alpha is nearly complete when the chair scrape happens. All of the tiny, tooth filled heads snap up. Heads twist this way and that, eyes curiously remiscent of a pigeon's focusing on the movement. One compy clicks forward, neck arching high as it focuses on the movement in the reflective surface- And then hisses, spreading tiny claw fingers wide. There's a general sound best described as 'insane chicken' as the compys charge forward in mass. Climbing and leaping over one another as they hone in on the reflective motion, screaming and clucking their hunger. A second box clicks closed, the third and fourth likely next in line. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Compsognathus swarming in, Nicky freezes as the first one is maybe a foot away, targeting the shimmering coins at high speed. Of course, the plushie is hoping that at least some of them hit their head hard enough for neck trauma... and that those Raptor-minis were Raptorminiphages...Or whatever one calls canibalism among dinos.         *crack* *snap* *grrrr* *hiss* *rip* *snap*     The mass of green and blue bodies turns instantly from an unordered hunting pack into a cold all-you-can-eat buffet as the first ones get wounded on the wall, and promptly the ones behind decide that filling the belly with some meat is better than searching for the meat they thought to have seen earlier.     Bits of Compsognathus fly past Nicky as she silently turns to sneak away from the feast, peering at one of the 'exits' to go through. The one further away... and use one of the 'cubes' to hide turning back into a girl. Because if they throw RAPTORS at PLUSHIES, the owners clearly have a crack in the egg. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Still seated inside the cockpit of the shuttle, Sombra is halfway through munching on her bag of chips, all while watching the screens with the security feed on the holoscreen in front of her. Not too shabby, not too shabby... After putting another chip in her mouth she reaches out into the air, typing on a virtual keyboard that lights up as she types.     Inside the viewing room something comes to life... A humming sound can be heard from the exit, and in response the compys turn from devouring their companion, their heads darting back and forth like chickens. And then they run off, leaving Nicky alone once more.     At least now Nicky appears to have time to inspect the room further. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Compies running away is the best chance for Nicky to move up, her now again human shape moving through the hidden walkway to the next room, only stopping long enough to assemble the collapsible survival rifle from under her jacket. If they have tiny raptors, they might have other dinos too, and then... those might need to eat lead. Peering around the bend into the next room, she carefully scanned for more of these boxes... or the panels that hid the scanners... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The next room is not as full of furniture as the viewing room is. Boxes are scarce, and this room appears to be more of a loading room... with a sizable elevator. There are no scanners visible in this room. What might be strange are all the lines on the floors, walls and ceiling. Is the room tiled? Still... it's evident that the room has some when suddenly another sound can be heard as a grid work of lasers appear behind Nicky, effectively cutting her off from the room she was just in. Then ever so slowly those lasers starting moving from the end of the room towards the other, forcing Nicky to move towards the elevator. Let's hope she has an idea on how to get it open and moving before the lasers get to the other end of the room! 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' A moment Nicky peers at the room, then the lasers flare on. Great, red glaring lasers dancing towards her... Dance through? nope, this is not Oceans Eleven. Wait? nope, that would get chunks of Nicky. Leaving... breaking into the Elevator. Moving towards it quickly, the girl carefully examined the panels, the buttons, checking if there was a key needed... And then frowning at the touchpad. Those often could be controled like anyhow. Letting the gun slip into its sling, she pulled a tool with a square peg out of the pocket, sticking it into the hole in the elevator frame to release the safety bar that held the doors locked when no elevator was present - usually that thing was for maintenance and rescue. Of course, usually getting into the elevator shaft was suicidal, but below or above a cab there was always space for a plushie in worst case... Using a thick Screwdriver, Nicky started to spread the thin gap between the sides wider, the laser behind her getting closer and closer. Just as the muzzle of the rifle got a slight contact with the red beam, Nicky could jump forward through the open gap, popping into a neon red mist cloud in the jump and condensing into a roughly elliptical 'cat' plushie, that somewhat reminded of a Digimon baby... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It appears that Nicky is lucky with her gambit, as the doors open just in time as the grid closes in behind her. The shaft itself is empty, though should Nicky look before she leaps, she will see that the elevator is down in the basement, with no elevator doors on the first floor below her. Seems it's only the basement and the second floor that is where this elevator stops...     Luckily the shaft itself appears to have no security measures, as the little cat plushie lands safely on top of the elevator.     In the shuttle, Sombra can't help but smirk as she eats the chips with one hand, still typing away with the other. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Landing on the elevator, Nicky changes back after a few moments, checking the elevator roof for an emergency hatch... or some other way to force her way into the elevator. Of course, by now she might have triggered... a lot of alerts just to get this far. But with a bit of luck, she still might manage to get to the skull... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     There is indeed an emergency hatch! Whoever built this place didn't ignore common safety measures, fortunately... Into the elevator she goes, though it appears that the inside is controlled with a keycard. Since the elevator is already down here, it shouldn't be any harder to get this door here open with the trick Nicky used to open the doors up on the second floor. And once she does get the doors open?     A large storage area is lit up by the light coming from the elevator, casting long shadows on the walls. The moment Nicky steps out onto the floor however, a light turns on. The bad news is that it's red.     "Unathorized access. Please input passcode to deactivate emergency lockdown in 1 minute. 59. 58. 57."     The countdown continues, so it appears that Nicky will has two choices... try to find the skull within one minute or try to override the security process. There's a panel on the wall by the elevator with a slot for a keycard, as well as some buttons. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' A room full of boxes and crates wasnt making her job easy. Was the skull in one or none of them? Well, having changed back to open the safety hatch and then the door from the inside - which is a bit more tricky as one has to disengage the inner door and then grab to safety bar of the outer door - Nicky looked around manically for the source of the sound, monitors or other controls for the alert. Seconds passed. 56, 55, 54... Hesitating not too much, she scanned the screws holding the keypad and card reader to the wall, then pulling out a screwdriver again to quickly work on open it. 50, 49, 48... Sweat started to show on her forehead as she pulled the electronic block out of the wall. Skimming over all the cables with the eyes, her left hand searched for the wire clippers in her pocket. 45, 44, 43... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Before Nicky gets to actually cut any wires however, something happens. The countdown doesnt stop, but theres something else.     Is that the music from Jeopardy playing over the speakers as well?     After that, a distorted voice can be heard.     Not bad but this way youre going to let the owners know that somebody were indeed here. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The changed sound, the sudden voice makes Nicky jump, the hand with the wire clippers hovering over a cable she knew should sever the memory from the keypad and thus allowing the factory code to become the clearance code once again. If it was indeed the type she thought it was.     Nice to know I got backup.If you can hear me or read lips, came in right in time to save me from having to fix that wire later.     The timer out of the way, clippers and screwdriver once more were put into the pockets they belonged to and quickly replaced by the small crowbar. Crates. Lots of crates, most of them possibly containing more stuffing than actual contents. So, what to do? Check them for numbers or content descriptions and if there was a catalogue or list somewhere. Otherwise, opening at least some had to be done - and that would make noise when closing the wrong ones again. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The countdown stops, but the music keeps on playing. Why though? No explanation is offered from the distorted voice.     There is indeed a catalogue option on the panel, and all the crates have ID numbers, sorted neatly. So Nicky shouldnt have too much problem once she figures out how to run the catalogue program. It appears that the skull is further in on some of the shelves there, in one of the smaller crates. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Frowning a bit on the continued sound spill, Nicky worked her way through the controls, finally, after a minute or two, she found the number. Jackpot. "What is F16?" she quipped at the invisible quizmaster as she stuffed the keypad back into the wall, but not screwed it fast again - maybe she still might have to reset it to factory in emergency.     Instead, she moved over to the shelf, carefully scanning the designated crate and checking for traps or extra alerts. Only then she pulled it off the metal rack and cracked the lid off to take the crystalline object out of the wood wool and slip it into a black satin bag she hung from her belt for now. Because nailing the box shut again was a little necessity to try to hide it to the naked eye.     Finishing the box up, she slipped it back to the shelf before moving back to the panel, sending a last look over the room and the panel. Back was the screwdriver in her hand, and she worked on getting the panel closed again. Just the way out was to be done... 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Bingo~ the distorted voice states as Nicky seems to catch on. Now hurry, the clock is still ticking I might be tempted to reset the timer again should you take much longer.     Perhaps she should do something about this, she muses. Sombra stretches her legs a bit, nearly done with her bag of chips. Just what is Reaper doing all of this, she wonders Sure, most of this is her deal, thats why Reaper requested her assistance in testing Nicky and her abilities. Mental note, badger him about it later.     Despite that threat though, the thief doesnt run into any more trouble on the way to row F in the back, and no sensors are down here on the crates themselves. Likewise it should be easy to open the crate to get the item inside. There, inside it, safely protected by cloth, lies the skull that Nicky was ordered to steal. Its light, with a slightly sweet scent to it.     With the panel back in place and closed, it appears that the only thing now that remains is to leave 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Having left the top hatch of the Elevator open, Nicky first pushes the gun back up, then pulls herself up to the hole. Carefully placing the bag with the skull through it first to keep it safe from hitting the wall accidently, she pulls herself through. Moments later, she carefully closes the door again behind her, looking up the elevator shaft. Two ways: Back to the laser grid, or climbing up to the elevator engine room. Neither was risk free, but the later would go higher. And possibly closer to a window she could get out somehow.     Climbing up the maintenance ladder, she checked for sound again and again - any movement of the cab is pretty dangerous when you are on the roof or ladder. Because cabs dont stop for cabriders. Step, step, metal creaking under the feet, up up and up.     Hopefully the owners didnt weld the cable access hatches from engine room to the shaft close. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Up the elevator shaft she goes, and Nicky might be relieved to learn that the access hatch isnt welded closed. It might be a bit hard to get it open, but not impossible. So up into the engine room she goes. Nothing special to see there, though the hatch slams shut after her when Nicky is out. And it doesnt appear to be easy to open from this side. Furthermore, the door out seems to be locked, with no panels near the door.     In the cockpit, Sombra grins as she watches the security feed, keeping one hand ready over her virtual keyboard. Waiting 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' No Key panel wasnt entirely a problem - especially since elevator engine rooms were pretty much off limits even to the owners of buildings. After all, nobody wants to end up having people squished by getting pulled between steel cables and then left to dry as you are forgotten till the tech comes to check up again. No, mechanical locks are the usual here... but that wasnt the real reason why she chose the route. Engines like the ones that operate elevators are heavy and run on high voltage. And high voltage as well as large engines have one thing in common: they generate heat. Lots of heat. And that meant there was likely either a ventilation shaft up, or a grill to the sidewall, allowing ventilation.     Skimming through the room, Nicky checked the contents of the bag a short time, just making sure it was still intact after climbing. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The room is indeed warm, quite warmer than the storage hall that had been rather chilly. There are ventilation shafts and grills, and well, with the proper equipment it shouldnt be too hard to get out of them.     As Nicky checks the contents of her bag, Sombra cant help but smirk where she sits, tossing the empty chip back aside. Lo siento, amiga     Something is definitively wrong. Because the skull looks different, and lighter. Its melting? Theres some white slop at the bottom of the bag as well, and the sweet scent is stronger now. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Frowning on the odd behavior of the skull, Nicky realizes she has to be kinda quick. "Tell Nevermore, that his skull is starting to melt here. Im well on my way out though."     Proper equipment? There was an easier way! Because, large scale venting means also larger scale exits... just remove a few screws to remove the fine mesh... Bend it up just enough to squeeze behind mostly... and...         PLOPP     Gone is nicky once again, in a cloud of grey colored mist, quickly contracting and condensing in the shape of a ten inch by two inch snake of the same color, falling downwards inside the vent - the skull gone to Elsewhere with the rest of the gear. Now it was just a means of tediously snaking the way out. Through the vent, fans, grates, possibly falling a few stories on the outside, off the lawn and then over the street towards the pickup. Can at least try to deliver as much of the skull as she can. It wont melt in Elsewhere anyway. Just might take a lot of time with snake speed. Crawling through air ducts like in a movie classic. At least she wasnt pushing around a cardboard box, to in- or exfiltrate a building 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     That was too easy, really. With the chips devoured and gone, Sombra reaches out to the item she had put in the main pilots seat. It had been too easy, indeed. Which is why she had upped the difficulty slightly for Nicky. Not everybody is as skilled with tech as she herself is, after all. So getting to the skull first was a piece of cake. Finding images of it beforehand? Even simpler. And getting a calavera made in its image hadnt been hard for a skilled baker. Perhaps Reaper /will/ be annoyed when he learns what shes done, but eh thats part of the fun.     Nevermore wants you to focus on the mission, the distorted voice can be heard from somewhere, echoing through the elevator shaft behind her. Now watch your fall.     Twirling the skull on one finger, Sombra smiles to herself before she lets the item rest in her palm. Sure, the girl might not have her skills when it comes to security and tech, but those were some interesting skills she has. Skills that Reaper will get to study himself once she gets these recordings sent his way... 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Itsy bitsy snake, working down the vent Silent, soft, small and then the fall. Just takes time. Slithering forward, and forward, low through the grass on the lawn. Down the road all the way, the communicator was nowhere. Or rather Elsewhere. Where time didnt flow. And thus entire radio silence from Nickys side.     Being small and snakey, it took her about twenty, almost thirty, minutes to get off the lawn and to a cool corner in shadow so she could change back in a somewhat inconspicuous way... and not loose too much of the skull in the rest of the way. "I have it. On my way to pickup. I hope they dont find dino-bits everywhere conspicuous." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Reaper'd been out of contact for a while - which didn't mean he was off-grid. Just didn't have a whole lot to add to the whole heist, beyond putting the pieces in place and letting Sombra do her thing. Even he couldn't predict her little 'prank', of course - but the skull itself was never the objective. The girl was. When Nicky switches back to human form, when she announces her success, the first thing she hears - is clapping. Slow, nearly sarcastic in its methodic speed. Clap, Clap, Clap. ... Clap. Where there was nothing and no one but a moment ago steps Nevermore. Well, someone like Nevermore - he's definitely cowled, and he's definitely masked. But that sterile bone white mask should be very, very familiar to Nicky from the Beacon Academy, wisps of black smoke curling away from his shoulder where he'd seemed to literally step out of the shadow. Just a trick of the dissolved state, but still: The Reaper. The voice is the same as well, a reverberating bass growl. "Mission success." Seems even when he's complimenting (?), he can't help but sound like he's on the edge of murdering someone. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky spins around as Reaper appears from the shadow behind her, a vein on her forehead pulsind and... PLOPP... is gone once more in a cloud of mist. Light blue this time. And as it condenses, it turns out to be a cyan colored skull stuffie of about the size of a football. Without arms or legs, falling to the floor and rolling over itself twice before coming to a halt on the jaw. Great, why did he have to appear without introduction?!     The skull silently 'clappers' with the teeth as it jumps backwards a bit while Nicky tries to regain her composture. Which takes her almost half a minute, but then she plopps back in existence, together with the bag. "Mister Nevermore? You startled me..." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The sterile skull mask tilts down slightly, a slow hiss of breath from the hidden features within as an acknowledgement of startling the mutant girl into becoming a small skull. Uncontrolled change - something that'll have to be worked on. A metal gauntlet lifts, turning palm up - and on it is a small, thick circular disk. Which flickers a few times before it lights up, then begins pulsing blue. Establishing a connection with the transport - and the other half of the Talon team. You know, the brains. "My name.. is Reaper. You've earned that much." He states. Well, snarls, the tail end of his reverberation hitting a bass line to make that impression. "Ex-filtration in three hundred and twenty seconds - if you have the skull. Enough time to talk about your..." The voice lowers again. A hiss of breath. ".. Future." Time to confirm the payload, start working on an offer, and otherwise see what the girl's got. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Another familiar figure appears in the holographic projection that Reaper shows the thief; the woman who had seemed awfully familiar with Reaper at Beacon Academy. Looking rather relaxed, the hacker leans back in a seat, her legs flung up as she tosses a rather solid and non-soggy skull back and forth. "About time you showed up, Gabe," she smirks, then turns her attention to Nicky. The tone of her voice should be familiar to, at least similar enough that the younger girl should recognise the distorted voice from within the building earlier. "Our little chica here did a decent job, I'd say. Not very tech savy, but her other skills make up for it." Here Sombra studies the skull, pursing her lips slightly. "If I hadn't gotten the skull beforehand, then well... this is the part where she hands it over. She can keep the candy if you ask me." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky nods as she pulls the satin bag up from her belt, offering the black pouch up to Reaper, even pulling it open and down enough to show the glossy surface of the skull inside - which had some slight distortions from having been in the heat of the engine room "Here's the only skull they had in there. Careful, it seems to be melting a bit when it gets warm. So, about 5 minutes."     Then... Sombra drops the bomb about her having taken the skull earlier. Her teeth grind silently, but she doesn't comment on it. It was a job, she got the job done. Professional. "That... explains the melting." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The sterile white mask turns towards the holographic image in his palm, in surprise; Clawed gauntlets briefly creak, the hologram flickering as stress is added to the projector, the cowled man growling like an animal. And then he relaxes his grip again, letting that burning anger return to its usual simmer before the skull-socket gaze returns to Nicky. ".. The skull was never the point." He begins, his growl nearly a grumble. His other hand dipping into the cowl to bring forth - a manilla envelope! With weighty stacked paper bills sliding within. Never say he doesn't abide by his bargains. What few bargains Death makes. "You were, Survivor. You have the raw talent - and ability, for a mortal. As Sombra stated. The only question left before we return to the shuttle is..." "Is surviving all you want for the rest of your existence?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The skull in the black bag does look like it's seen better days. It smells sweet, and it looks suspiciously like a sugar skull typical of Mexico. Which means...     Exactly what Reaper and Nicky realise as the hacker smiles contently where she sits. "Relajate... think of your blood pressure. Besides, I had to make sure we actually got the skull, sí?" They do have a buyer for it, after all.     She's quiet however as Reaper speaks to Nicky, handing over the envelope. "Why survive when you can live, amiga?" she suggests with a knowing smirk. "And use your talents for something worthwhile...?" 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky eyes the holographic head as she takes the manila envelope, weighing it in her hand and then tucking it into the inner pocket of her jacket to where she had placed the other one earlier, the suggar skull still on presentation in her other hand. "Surviving I would pin pretty much up top on my list, because otherwise I'd kind of have no further existence. And living would pretty much include surviving I guess. But I guess this is not philosophy class but some kind of offer..."     Eying the disshelved suggar skull, she then adds. "uhm, what to do with the skull now?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Leave it for the insects." Hisses the Reaper, still a bit tweaked by Sombra's 'prank'. Arms crossing over his chest, boots spread shoulder width apart - Sombra's holographic projector still balanced in the palm of one hand as the skull masked figure - The Lord of the Edge - works his neck into a tilt to get rid of that annoying crick. Before he speaks again. "We're offering a chance to be more than a scavenger. To hone your ... inclinations. Consider it a two-way bargain; Use us to increase your odds of survival. We'll use you as well, for our own objectives. The day you think you're done... " There is a brief pause, the growling voice dropping an octave. "Leave." It's a lot more complicated than that, of course. It always is. But Gabe - Reaper - continues. "I know genocide - and I know what it leaves behind." He states, recalling their prior conversation. "Consider the offer to stop being a victim to higher powers, and luck of birth. Power to make.. changes. And the skill, the contacts, to pull them off. Consider it - carefully." A hissed breath, and the cowled head jerks off to the side. "Exfil. Stay on my six." Time to move. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     In the cockpit of the shuttle, Sombra extends her hand towards the controls, hacking them. Time to get the auto pilot going so she can pick Gabe up. Rising to the sky, the shuttle gets moving, making its way towards the rendez-vous point.     "You don't need to decide right now," Sombra states to Nicky, moving to rest the ornate skull in her lap. "Think it over for a while, and then you can contact me. Gabe, give her the communicator, will you~?" A secure little object, with a hidden frequency on it to one of the many proxies that Sombra uses in her communication network. It's best to keep this sort of deal hidden, after all.     Up above, the shuttle can be heard as it arrives, slowly descending behind Reaper as the cargo hold opens up. Why land when he can simply turn to smoke and get on that way? 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "I have one in my ear. The one Mr. Nevermore gave me earlier." Nicky replies with a little smirk, then gives the fake skull a toss to the wall before moving in behind the Reaper as he asks her to follow her on his 6. "Those terms are... vague, but considerable. Like a series of interlocking jobs. Healthcare and insurance included?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You'll survive." Did Reaper just make a joke? It's hard to tell, because he's still growling. He doesn't seem capable of making a sound that doesn't seem like he's on the verge of screaming or murderously sarcastic. He'll let Nicky board first, before he'll simply - dissolve. Dust flaking away from him, twisting into smoke as it slips up and through the vents. The holo-disk left on the floor of the transport as it seals shut, Reaper's voice heard on the comms now. "That one's .. -dead-... at mission close. The new one is special. More.. secure. You'll want it." The engines flare to life, G-press - and the shuttle's awaaaaay. Team Talon, Blasting Off Again. PIng. 
}}

5356/Failure To Communicate

2017-07-06T22:40:49Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/07/06 |Location=Overwatch Earth <OWE> |Synopsis=Reaper and Sombra have a heart to heart about her recent pranks. |Cast of Characters=1115, 111..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/07/06
|Location=Overwatch Earth <OWE>
|Synopsis=Reaper and Sombra have a heart to heart about her recent pranks.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' An operation had been run - and with every operation came the debrief. It was a common thing that Reaper did, a way to wind down, to go over what happened, to think of ways to do it better next time. To address problems between fellow soldiers, get those issues dragged out into the light where they could properly wither. It was, in essence, a hold over of military technique adopted for a brand new multiverse. And as usual, Sombra's calendar chimes with the prompting to join the debrief on the operation in Numbani. And as usual, the location is a 'blank room', drawing power from an internal generator, sound proof and white-noise bubbled. Holographs slowly rotate in pause, showing an overlay map with color pinpoints - incomplete as of yet, based on eye witness accounts and camera work more than Sombra's far more prolific data gathering. The most unusual thing about this debrief, however? No one else was invited this time. Nothing to worry about, right? The usual canter of Gabriel's chili-laced chocolate 'Mayan Mocha' steams quietly on a table, the Reaper having found long ago that things worked out better if the more 'living' members of any debrief were alert and caffeinated. It was a boring thing, after all, rehashing old details and nit-picking, but the alternative was having no plan next time stuff like this came up. More unusual? Gabriel - Reaper - isn't here first. Although his mask sits upon the table as well, staring accusingly upwards. Bits of it cracked, the whole thing bent in half with groves where fingers squeezed. Didn't think it got THAT damaged by Jack, right? But enhanced soldiers will be enhanced soldiers. Bending metal was the least of their ability. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Of course there's a debrief. It's something she's gotten used to now, with Reaper always scheduling these things. But still... why didn't he invite the others to this? Might be because Septette isn't a member of the Concord, and the Flotilla are still getting their membership finalised. But Tesla is a member, and still... she's not invited. It's easy enough for her to check that she's the only person who recieved this invite. Hmmm.     The hacker is clad in her usual getup, walking into the lone room as she peers at the screens with the info she supplied. Still, it's weird that Reaper isn't here yet, he's usually one to be here early and ready, eager to growl out constructive criticism in order to make sure the next mission will go better. A sigh leaves her, and Sombra sits down in one of the chairs, pouring herself a cup of Mayan Mocha. As she does so her glance falls upon the mask, and she leans forward to pick it up. Curiously she turns the mask around, studying it without a word. Even if she has seen the face behind the mask, it's a bit strange that he left this here, isn't it...? 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' There is no loud thump of boots. No growled, reverberated bass of a voice on the edge of yelling. No hiss of annoyed breath. Not a whisper of sound - save the soft surrusus of metal shavings poured down silk, or sand across plastic. An echo's echo, faint tickling at the back of the neck. The holographic image flickering briefly, before there is a large CLUNK from the doorway. A soft, chirping alert as hydraulics hiss, the chamber slowly sealing itself shut. Once the edge of the door has thumped against the interior, aligned dove-tails slide out while a pneumatic wheel clanks - turning in an automated process. The material of the construction preventing signal chatter in or out - to keep debriefs and stage planning from being intercepted, of course! Time to begin the debriefing, then?     And still, even as lights dim and the holograhpic image brightens, there's no sign of Reaper. At least, until the faint indraw of breath from the left as he forms - and a screech of the power conduit being pulled from the wall in a sudden shower of sparks. Lights clunk as they die, the holographic image flickering out. Red blinking led diagnostics lights keep the place from being -completely- dark, like lost, dying stars along the wall - although, in reality, they just highlight precisely how little can be seen. A silouette pacing slowly pacing away from the last few flashing sparks, disappearing once more. The faint warning warble of atmospheric alerts - it is a sealed area, after all. One can even hear the fans along the vents climbing down as their revolutions seize. ".. Glad you could join me, chica." Comes Gabe's voice. It's -wrong-, as always; Whatever you call that -thing- he makes sounds from now. But more importantly? She's still got his mask in her hand. His broken words are practically -purring-, rather than the usual growl and snort of his normal mannerism. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The faint echo catches Sombra's ear, and she turns her head slightly, purple locks bouncing around her shoulder. The flickering holovid casts a shadow over her face, her eyes narrowing faintly. Why is the room sealing itself...? This feels wrong.     Turning in her chair, she looks around... only to turn her head sharply to the left, all while the room goes dark.     "Que...?!"     Abruptly rising to her feet, Sombra stumbles back from her seat, eyes wide as she studies the sinister silhouette. Her hand grips the mask tighter in its grasp, and she swallows as she begins to open communications. But alas, the jamming signal is already there. Can she even work around it if she can't focus? Because right now, her attention is all on the Reaper in front of her.     A nervous smirk crosses her lips as she backs up against another chair, her free hand gripping at it. "Gabe...? What are you doing?" He... sounds non-angry. Which does not fit this scenario at all. And despite the smirk on her lips, she looks tense. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Considering." Comes the broken voice again, sounding curiously thoughtful. The figure only briefly sillouetted as he crosses in front of slowly pulsing red diagnostic lights. Well call it a 'face' as he's looking down, before his chin rises. In the next pulse, he's no longer there, his voice coming from the other side of the small, small chamber now. Slowly working his way closer. A red splash across a smirk, like blood on .. well, we'll call them 'lips'. I mean, it's pretty close. Sort of. "Thinking about how much you've benefited Talon. And me, amiga. We've worked together quite well. You're the best in our world.." Metal claws lift. One hand dips beneath the other - a faint *click*. Metal dropping away, to clank to the ground. "Eh. But we're not in our world anymore, sabes? Lots of talent." The other gauntlet drops to join its brother. The sound of joints popping, a faint sigh of relief like the exhalation of a long buried corpse. Well, we use the word 'joints' loosely as well. There's just something not quite right in how anything fits together. Bad angles. "Makes me start thinking about all the little jokes. Makes me think.. maybe, I'm losing my effectiveness, having to switch focus so much. Reputation, verdad?" A foot stomps down - the toppled chair a blurr in the brief pulse of red light as it rights itself, 'hands' gripping the top. Gabriel turning it about, straddling it for a moment. The Flesh Lives. His voice still purring, dark and unsettling and -wrong-. "Hey, relajte. Take a -deep- breath-" Even as the fans whirr to a clunking stop. No more oxygen. "-.. and just think. What's the worse that could happen to you? Really?" Something like lips split. "What's the absolute -worst-?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Sombra stands still as she watches Reaper, staring up at the face she's seen once before. The first time she saw it, there had only been curiousity on her face. Without doubt, the hacker has seen a lot through her years as a member of Los Muertos, then as a Talon agent. While she has a calm expression, it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her hand is tense as she grips the back of the chair behind her. When Reaper disappears in his usual smoky fashion, she jumps, eyes darting to and fro. There. A nervous grin plays across her lips as she turns and begins backing off again slightly. "Heh, you know me, Gabe... best of the best," she states, even as she watches him take off his gloves. Is it merely symbolic, or...? When he hints to her not being the best in the multiverse when it comes to what she does, she swallows. "Even out here, you know nobody can hack like I do." It's true. It has to be true.     Otherwise, she's in big trouble.     Surely she knew he was annoyed at her jokes. The doors, windows, vents, the nicknames... but they always worked well together. Right?     The stomp makes her jump slightly again, stepping back behind another chair. Relaxing is rather hard right now, especially when he acts like this. It's easier to handle him when he's angry, when she knows how he will react. This? This is new. Her eyes are hard as they peer down at him where he's taken a seat on the chair. The moment the sound of the fans cease, Sombra's eyes widen. Mierda! Without turning her head, she glances to the side. "This isn't funny, Gabe," she mutters, all while she moves her hand, pointing it towards the fan. It's digital, she can get it working again... she hopes. Purple lines extend from her fingertips as she begins hacking... all while keeping an eye on Reaper.     "The worst that could happen to me? You don't even know, so I couldn't explain it to you." If she were found by /them/, then that would be it for her. Except Reaper doesn't know. The global conspiracy...? He wouldn't understand. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The fans respond - flickeringly. The real trouble is they're dying. There's no power, see? Backup powercells are missing. Well, 'missing' - no doubt Reaper knows precisely where they are. No power, nothing to hack. Oh, she could no doubt do a few fancy shenanigans to draw power off the diagnostic lights and get the fans running for a few more minutes - at the cost of absolute darkness - but that stale taste on the back of the tongue means this room wasn't precisely built with long term life support in mind. Welcome to Analog. "Hm? Es broma, chica." States Gabe, voice shifting in tone, fingers drumming on the back of the chair as he leans forward. Leaning his weight on the back of the chair, crossing his arms - smoke leaking from the brief breaks. "Best of the best." He almost seems to taste the repeated phrase, tilting his head. Sillouette of shadow in the slow pulse of blood red lights, a dead thing half way between existing and not - save for the eyes. Oh, those are definitely alive. All of them. "Yeah. Well, you'll have no worries here. This is your safe place, Sombra; Nothing in." A broken grin. "Nothing out. Not until the doors rust off. But you won't be around that long." Either a comfort or a threat, it's really hard to say. Chin dips again, and in the next darkened moment he's gone once more. A whisper of sand. A hiss of metal. "Let's talk about mission focus, si? Keeping your heart .... " A pause. "..on the job." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     An annoyed 'tch' leaves Sombra when she realises just why the fans aren't working. And then there's the fact that he doesn't need to breathe either... How much time can she buy with just absolute darkness? A minute or two? So be it. Immediately Sombra points her hand towards the lights, hacking them to direct the power to the fans. Keep them running on low, change settings... as low as possible, just to buy herself time.     Inwardly she curses herself for not leaving a translocator outside the area. But then again, she /never/ imagined that it would come to /this/.     The room plunges into darkness, the only light coming from Sombra's lightshow as she hacks the powercells. Then she summons a screen, typing away as her fingers never stop moving, her eyes on Reaper where he sits. The screen allows enough light so that the room isn't completely dark, but still... It does cast an eerie light over the place. Her other hand finally drops the mask, and it clatters against the floor. The very next second, she's drawn her submachine gun. "Open the door. Now." Her tone is serious.     Then he disappears again, and Sombra frowns, a drop of sweat running down the side of her face. How long until the power runs out to the fans? "I'm not the one who wasted time brawling with old friends while we managed to get the primary and secondary targets of /my/ operation, Gabe!" she hisses, turning around with the screen following suit as she types away, the text running across the screen. Where /is/ he? For now Sombra is tense, ready to act... 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Laughter, slow as a pendulem's swing. Darkness descends as the fans whirr back to a creaking life of sort - one can almost feel the cool air brushing a forehead. The sweet scent of -outside- on the tongue, albeit tainted with the faint rubber of hoses. Strange how loud the fans sound after having gone silent for so long. Nothing but the dull pop of interior metal shifting as it heats up slowly in the sunlight. The soft whisper of metal fillings down silk, shifting from side to side. When her screen's light comes up, the entire floor is shifting. A faint black smoke that bubbles and churns on itself - the broken, bent mask no where to be seen. Nor are the gauntlets. And then it pulls itself almost back together again, a damned spectre, halfway in and out. Bits and pieces peeling away only to reform with the whole, holding that remade mask. Always returning to the one moment of death. "..Why don't I give you a few hours to think on things?" He states, turning the mask about to peer at the interior, a sillouette of mist. The cast of light by her screen giving his gaze almost a socket apperance - that, or his eyes have gone missing again. All of them. "Breath deep." The mask is brought back to his own face, head tilting up to accept it as he solidifies for just a few moments. The faint *crunch* of bone as the screws whirr, sealing it against his flesh. His voice recognizable as his own, now, the growling reverberations. ".. And my name.. is Reaper." Dissolving. Sliding out along the vents she had just opened with her few precious minutes of power. And air. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     This isn't funny...! The hacker moves towards the wall, trying to hack the door open while Reaper isn't near her. She hopes. Paranoid glances are thrown around the room, all while she tries to find something digital. But no, analog. Damnit, who designed this place?!     The sight of the spectre reappearing makes Sombra tense, and she pulls away from the door again, pointing her submachine gun directly towards Reaper's face. "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" she barks, though her eyes aren't as calm as they have been before. The oxygen levels are turning low, her respiration rate has increased. It's getting harder to breathe...! The moment he solidifies and puts the mask back on, the hacker grits her teeth... and fires, the rounds barely missing due to the fact that Sombra's arm is shaking. Aim is Widowmaker's deal, after all. Then, he's gone, slipping out of the vents. Leaving her behind in the darkness     "BASTARDO!"     Her voice is not as much yelling as shrieking, and she turns, beginning to slam on the door with the arm she's holding the submachine gun with. "GET BACK HERE NOW! EL COMANDANTE WON'T STAND FOR THIS!" No, this... this isn't happening! Hyperventilating at this point, Sombra slams against the door, wincing. The fact that her head is starting to spin too, that's bad. If she passes out now, then it's all done for. Even with the information she's written down, this... A near feral scream leaves her, though she stops to gasp, one hand moving to her throat. Legs shaking, she falls to her knees. The fans... how long has it been since Reaper left? A minute? Right before the fans died down. Rasping, the woman reaches out towards the door... 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' There's an interesting aspect to asphyxiation that not many people know, and that's the moment when the lungs start feeling bloated. Suck in as much as you can, and it's still not quite enough - so you try to draw in more. Work the diaphram, which gets warmer and stretches further than it usually has too. The thin taste of copper when stress starts pushing capillaries out. The dizziness, of course, something that works from the center of the skull and seems to drape weakness across the frame. All the secrets in the world won't buy another breath of oxygen. At least, not until there is a jerked 'CLUNK'. The wheel of the hatch squealing as its forced through a spin, jerking slowly as the dovetails retreat. It shudders, fresh air feeling as cold as a refrigerator as it seeps into the hot box of a dead 'blank room'. Slowly forced up by virtue of enhanced soldier's strength, the bottom of a black cowl whipping with the exchange of molecules. Precious, precious air. "Death comes for all." Growls a sterile bone white mask. ".. But not today. Remember to remain more useful than distracting, Sombra..." The door is swung all the way open, metal gaunlets creaking as they flex. "Because we're not talking about this again." A vague threat or a confirmation of trust? Honestly, it's always hard to tell with The Reaper. True, he'll never get her to a debrief again without her translocator somewhere far out of his reach - or as anything but remote presence - but that's a bridge to burn later. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The pain isn't like anything she's felt before. In addition to the physical symptoms, there's also the fact that a lack of oxygen has other reactions. Like panic. Rasping, the hacker tries to get more oxygen into her starved lungs, but each breath does her no good. This... is it. Not the way she thought it would end. What a waste...     When the clunk sounds, she's nearly passed out, lying on the floor with her eyes half closed. As fresh air is drawn in however, brushing against her sweaty and pale face, Sombra can't help but tense, a hungry and loud raspy gasp drawing precious air through her mouth and nostrils. Weakly she glances upwards, heaving for breath as Reaper speaks. Her arms and legs shake as she struggles to get back up to her feet, scrambling out of the room on all fours and past him. Falling onto her hands and knees she continues heaving, sweat dripping down her forehead, running down her chin. "... c-cabron..." Her voice is weak, lacking the usual strength and flair that she usually has. If she had the strength, she would lash out at him. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Metal boots turn, the Reaper leaving Sombra to her fresh air and clawing for life. Although he does pause, cowled head turning slightly. The edge of that sterile bone white mask shown. "No." He begins. "Me llamo Reaper." << https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDqyheZbsxg >> 
}}

5314/Unearth The Dead

2017-06-22T17:50:36Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/15 |Location=Spring |Synopsis=Sombra comes to dig up El Blanco. I mean, Reaper. |Cast of Characters=1115, 1117 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Pose..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/15
|Location=Spring
|Synopsis=Sombra comes to dig up El Blanco. I mean, Reaper.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' It's a non-descript villa out in a verdant green section of the plains, with white staccato walls and brighly blooming flowers. But the town? The town is considered cursed, after the events of a few days ago - most of the residents having moved their belongings elsewhere, looking for better worlds to make their rural living. All that's left here are empty houses with their first layers of dirt- And a cross near the gateway. Charms dangle from the wood, protections against evil. Intertwined within the dancing arms of dust is the occasional wisp of black smoke - something horribly familiar to anyone who was here only a short few days ago. The coordinates? They lead to that cross, with the blessings and protections against evil scrawled upon it. Apparently, Gabe got tired of waiting to 'leak' out.. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Bring clothes and a shovel. That alone is enough to make Sombra curious. So pardon her for being just a few minutes delayed as she quickly looks up incidents on what happened in the particular area Reaper asked her to go to.     It's not just a shovel that she brings however as the earth shakes with every step of a large metal behemoth. Mostly an exoskeleton meant for one person to ride in, but with Sombra's expertise she can still control it. Maybe Reaper can feel the earth shake as it approaches. And he should certainly be able to recognise Sombra's voice as it can be heard from above as the hacker crouches down and inspects the cross.     "Huh, so that's what they think you are, huh? Espíritu maligno?" There's amusement in her voice. "You should see the wards up here, Gabe... one moment, I gotta take a photo of this!" There's the sound of a blitz going off, though fortunately he can hear something big and metallic moving afterwards, not to mention realise that his associate is working on getting him dug out. "So what happened exactly...?" she inquires further, obviously curious. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Gabe's voice crackles over the comms - the flat, nontonal sound of thought-to-text-to-voice magical bullshittery that the multiverse had added to Talon's repetoire of communication methods - "A personal hunt gone wrong. It doesn't matter; Death is only delayed, but never stopped." He almost sounds more like 'himself' from the old vids, without the deep growl and reverberation. As the machine digs deeper, the coils of black smoke become more prominent - until at last the earth shifts, a single white boot kicking out with a growl. And Reaper begins to rise from the grave once more. In a white mariachi outfit, complete with calavera mariachi skull mask. White with gold undertrim. AND A FRICKING CRUMPLED SOMBRERO. Shoulders heave, breath hissing with crackling sounds through the mask's teeth as the figure turns gaze upwards. "My clothes." He states, holding out a hand from the grave. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     A personal hunt... related to the Overwatch then, perhaps? Sombra nods where she crouches, waiting for the machine to dig deeper. It's better to not dig too quickly, even if Reaper is sturdier than most.     As the smoke rises from the earth, Sombra does have the sense to step back. And just in time, as that white boot kicks up. The hacker arches one split eyebrow as the figure that rises from the grave looks less grim than... music themed. "Seriously, Gabe... /white/?" she asks, her tone pointed. "Here I thought your entire wardrobe was in black." Oh yes, she had to tease him about that. But fine, have some clothes. Reaching behind her, she grabs a small bag that she holds up. But she doesn't hand it over quite yet. "What exactly happened?" And she won't hand it over until he gives in to her request. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Talon has a contract with the Concord; This didn't involve either." Explains the snarling figure about the costume change - then begins to literally claw his way out of the earth. That fancy new suit all rumpled and smeared with dirt, even as the black smoke coils around his ankles and shimmers from broad shoulders. Slowly standing to his full height, the mask turning towards the tilted cross that was meant to warn against 'Espíritu maligno' - and then he draws a single hand up, the shotgun forming as if cleared a holster. Even -it- looks different rounded and slimmer. BOOM The tattered remains clank away as Reaper hisses his annoyance, letting the gun drop back into the hole. "And my name - is Reaper." He states, before that mask turns towards Sombra atop her excavator. The gloved hand lifting once more. "Resistance happened. It was unexpected - it won't be again." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Unlike Reaper, Sombra seems to not want to get her clothes dirty, as she steps back once Reaper begins digging his way out, even as the excavator helps as best as it can, perhaps being an annoyance and a help at the same time. Nothing is said as he shoots down the cross that was placed on his grave, and Sombra just watches with a semi-neutral expression. There's no hiding the glimmer in her eyes. Especially when he again reminds her about his new name.     "Is it though? I heard the girl who put you in the dirt called you other names." Though she takes pity on him and hands him the bag so he can get his clothes and mask. But she doesn't turn away. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The clothes are grabbed with a low, bubbling snarl, and tucked under an arm at the reminder that - well - Sombra knows all, and sees all. The dirt encrusted figure walking towards the nearest abandoned abode, pausing only long enough to look over his shoulder, the white material of his 'skull mask' glimmering quietly in the sun. ".. What do you want to keep this to yourself, -Sombra-?" He finally asks, in recognition that she did have him at a disadvantage. FOR NOW. The sombrero tugged off and left to drift with the wind, leaving that smooth helmet encapsulating all of his features. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Sombra can't help but smile at that, grinning contently as Reaper seems to catch the idea here. And why, Sombra even walks to follow him, the excavator in the process of smashing up the grave. See? It's helping!     "Hmmm? Nobody ever asked me what I wanted before..." she muses, tapping one dainty nail against her lower lip, as if deep in thought. "I'm used to taking what I want myself, but... oh well, since you're so kind to offer Gabe..." Here she looks up at him, a sly look on her face. "You could always show me your face." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A low, rolling growl escapes Reaper's throat once more as he draws his arm up; That same shotgun once more forming in midair, like a spectre. But it's very - VERY - real. His arm crooks, holding it against his own shoulder as he threatens. Because that's what Reaper does, right? Threatens. "Nobody." He re-iterates. Before his other hand comes up and presses on a catch the underside of his jaw. There is a hiss, faint whirring as screws retract. Allow the camera to fall just below the sternum as that metal mask falls away. And Gabe's voice - has lost the reverberation. But it's wrong. WRONG, just as much as he is. Something caught between being and not being. "You know what they say about curiosity and cats, chica." He states. We'll call that a smirk for old time's sake, even a bit of dark humor. And then his proper helmet is sealed over top, the black headpiece creaking as it squeezes his neck. And the white, sterile bone mask drops back down. Screws tightening with faint crunches into his forehead. And the humor's gone. Without further word, Reaper finds a nice quite place to 'change'.. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The Talon intel agent keeps quiet, waiting for Reaper's response to her request. It's a fair one, isn't it? Keep it quiet that a teenager buried him, and she gets to see what he really looks like. There's no intel about that, nobody knows just what Reaper looks like underneath the mask. When the man reaches up to his mask though, Sombra's expression turns more serious, and she nods. "Nobody."     Why learn great secrets if you're going to spill them to everybody, after all?     And it stays serious as the skull mask falls away. There's only the faint arching of one eyebrow as the hacker studies him. If she's disgusted then she's hiding it extremely well. "Oh, you know me... I want to know all of the secrets. Curiousity... is what drives me." What good is she if she doesn't know things, after all? But yes, he should get changed. His current clothes must stink after being two days in the ground. Fortunately for Reaper his colleague will settle for waiting outside, keeping watch while he gets changed into his usual get up. "See, this is the problem with the multiverse. You can't just run into it. Not to mention young Elite girls seem to always be a lot of trouble," she muses. "So many of them have strange powers, magic and so on. The next time you can ask me for their files, you know." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The 'El Blanco' suit is left hanging on the shattered remnants of the tilted cross; The metal skull blinking dully in the sun as Reaper straightens. Slowly working the crick from his neck with a faint twist of his chin before he speaks. "Next time? .. Next time, I shoot first. Second. Third. Fourth. And then ask questions of whatever piece is still quivering." He growls. The smirking, dark humor in his voice ex-mask disappeared beneath the perpetually pissed-off persona of a perfectly bad psychopath, period. ".. Back to the center of operations." 
}}

5310/The Grave Cannot H- Stop That

2017-06-13T19:13:22Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/13 |Location=Spring |Synopsis=Reaper cause a mess. Toph comes to kick his ass. |Cast of Characters=1115, 20 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/13
|Location=Spring
|Synopsis=Reaper cause a mess. Toph comes to kick his ass.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 20
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Rumor had it, that Soldier 76 had begun his crusade of do-goodery once again. Or was on a mission. Or was doing whatever the hell it was Jack had gotten himself into. The 'why' didn't matter, of course - not to Gabriel Reyes. Not to REAPER, as he was when the mask was screwed back into his forehead. The only thing that mattered was someone had escaped his grasp - and no one gets left behind. No one. This small, quaint village out in Spring was one of millions - billions, truth be told. White stacatto walls bake under the bright summer sun, verdant green spilling out from windows and trailing down roofs. Wet, fat, and happy, with naught but a small road leading in and out for the occasional trader. Villagers move in the quiet contement of their lives, surrounded by thigh high walls with a decorated arch welcoming visitors to their tiny slice of quaint rural life. In the distance, fields of lively budding fruits are hidden behind faint clouds of moisture, the distant lolling of some distant animal. Boots press the dust, spurrs clinking softly. White pants in gold trim lead up to a dark green shirt, surrounded by a white overcoat to continue that white/gold mariachi theme. A long sombrero tilts upwards, showing a white and gold skull mask. There is a faint hiss of smoke between the teeth, before the creature steps towards the small, innocent villa - a shadow hunting revenge. The yells of terror begin not long after. 

:'''{{#var:20|Toph Beifong (20)}} has posed:'''     The areas under the commonwealth have direct contact with the Paladins, so it's no surprise that backup doesn't take long. Even as the villagers run from the mayhem of the shotgun wielding maniac, some manage to call for help and hide away as best as they can, leaving the streets quickly empty save for the injured and dead. Yet as Reaper continues his violent rampage, he will notice that he doesn't go unopposed for long.     Suddenly the ground underneath him comes alive, exploding upwards in a reverse rain of rocks and dust. It's rough enough to severely bruise somebody should they be hit, but not enough to fatally injure. The very next moment a young voice echoes between the houses and buildings, full of authority despite its age and gender.     "Under section 3, paragraft 14 I'm hereby authorised to take you in to custody on behalf of the Paladins. Drop your weapons, raise your arms and comply, otherwise I will have to use force!"     Should Reaper turn around he won't have any problems spotting the owner of the voice. In the middle of the street behind him stands what looks like a young teenaged girl, clad in greens and with metallic armour covering her torso. Sure, she might not be much taller than 5'2'', but her expression is one of determination, there's no fear in her milky white eyes, and she is clearly ready to react should he try something. Another thing he might notice is the badge on her chest, the golden insignia of the Paladins. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The injured and the dead - what a fitting descriptor. There is a loud crack of skull on wall, a cry of pain as the elder is held up by a single white gloved hand. A voice, reverberating low and dark, snarling out the questions as yet another 'interrogation' begins. "Where is he? I know he was here... and you're going to tell me, or you're going to watch the life drip from this place - one villager at a ti-" Which is when the ground explodes upwards. The village taking good on the chance to escape, with only bruises to show for a close encounter to doom and damnation. Now lets pan the camera a moment to what Toph might see; Spurred boots shifting sideways, as expected, the faint 'clunk' of rock sparking off a face helmet. And - then nothing. Whispers as if wind were blowing dust along the ground, before solid feet contact the ground once more. And their owner? .. their owner is... broken. Something horribly wrong, from the vibrations that feed her blinded sight. Something that is and is not simultaneously, like watching a frozen sea move or a stone wind blow. By comparison, the snarling voice is nearly normal, though it's hard to tell which part of the.. let's just call it a throat for ease of use.. that sound comes from. "I was wondering how long it would take for one of you.. heroes.. to show up.." Something curling; An additional weight where none was before, flakes of metal forming out of thin air into solidified shapes quick enough that it's almost instantaneous. Guns? "Shame they sent only one; But you'll do." 

:'''{{#var:20|Toph Beifong (20)}} has posed:'''     The moment the dreary attacker dissolves, Toph's eyes widen in surprise, though she doesn't seem to freak out. No, that only comes when he reappears closer to her. Her mouth opens slightly, and she stands still as he speaks, not saying a word just yet.     "What the /crud/ is wrong with you?" she asks, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice, nor on her face as she makes an expression as if she tasted something foul. Many questions run through her head, but she can't even figure out what more to ask. His heart... okay, she's never heard a heart like that before. His breathing, if you can even call it that... The moment metal seems to appear in his hands however, the teenager reacts, quickly bringing up her arms. In response an earthen wall rises in front of Reaper, and then Toph pushes forward with both arms, causing the wall to /slide/ across the ground with the intent of sending him flying backwards.     "Fucked up or not, I can't let you continue whatever the fuck you're doing for here! If you're looking for somebody, then use the wanted adds, Muddy!" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "The grave will not hold me." Whispers that hissing, reverberating voice as Toph asks precisely what is wrong with him - before the wall appears; Two massive explosions ripple across the stone surface, tearing away shards. No telling what it'd do to flesh, even if it was aimed surprisingly low, even by the standards of the greatest Earth bender's height. And then the wall slams forward; The contact reverberates, a solid hit that drags a cry of alarm. Vibrations cease, the whisper of cloth and metal as the muddy thing is sent into the air - but the moment of contact with the ground never comes. It stretches on, even as whispers of dust crawl across the ground. The hiss of something like sand around the stone, particles of not-quite-smoke around ankles - The solid step of a footfall behind her, as the Thing tries to grab hold of the smaller Earthbender with metal claws. A horrible mistake, but one that has to be learned in person. "Death does not ask permission. I'm going to hurt you - and then you're going to tell me everything I want to know." 

:'''{{#var:20|Toph Beifong (20)}} has posed:'''     Okay, it's easy to tell that the shotguns he has do pack more firepower than she's used to, but it's still not enough to utterly tear down the earthen wall. And the earthen wall isn't enough to stop Reaper she notices. The moment Reaper goes incorporeal again the Paladin squire reacts, listening and sensing intently, tense as a bow string where she stands. The moment she feels the slightest pressure behind her, before his weight has settled all on the ground, she's already reacting. Before Reaper has already begun reaching out for the blind teenager, her arm is already raised up and behind her as she focuses on the metal in his gloves...     It might be a strange sensation, having your fingers move without your approval. The metal claws shift, moving by themselves, pulling Reaper's fingers with them as they form his hand into a fist. A fist that then flies up towards his face even as he speaks in that threatening manner.     By now Toph is already moving to face him. "I'm the one asking questions here, Edgelord!" Toph states, her arm still held out towards him as she concentrates on the metal. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Strange isn't even the start of it; Reaper's hands are stronger than they have a right to be, thanks to the same program that made Jack what he is, but there's no resisting a metal bender in her element. THUNK Gabe's head is snapped back by the force of the blow, his sombrero drifting off the top of his head; Fortunately, the mask-helmet continues all the way around, completely enshrouding him. Which is when two feet on the ground becomes one foot, as Reaper tries to plant a foot right in the smaller girl's face and snap her back. A low, growl rippling from that thin he calls a throat, the muddy, squishy shape of half-formed vibrations that never quite finish -becoming-. And then he -melts-. Whether the kick was successful or not, she can feel her sense of the metal, of the pressure of his weight on the earth, disappearing. Even if it was dissolved, there should -still- be metal flakes! But there's only a ghost, a hint. The sound of sand shifting, particles somewhere between ash and snow brushing along exposed skin. Swirling. "And soon you'll be the one screaming." Weight! Metal! And the click of a trigger spring compressing. 

:'''{{#var:20|Toph Beifong (20)}} has posed:'''     The metalbender relaxes just slightly when the punch connects, though she doesn't let her guard down. This guy can dissolve and reappear, so she has to be ready for that. What she's less ready for is him kicking out at her, and Toph has to think quickly as she brings her arms up. There's no time for her to bend a defense when he's this close, so... the foot slams into Toph's forearms as she digs her heels down into the ground, preventing her from getting her teeth kickedin. Despite her being light, she stands her ground, pushed back but not toppled over. It did hurt though, judging from the grunt of pain that leaves her.     Okay, he's dissolved again... where is he coming next? The blind girl stands still, arms still raised in front of her. Whatever he's doing to the metal, she can't sense it now... drats. There's no time for snappy comebacks to his threat, because that's what he would expect. Now it's time to focus and be ready! It's rather clear that Toph seems unaware of where he is when he becomes smoke, but she appears to have no trouble telling where he is when he's solid. Not moving a single muscle, Toph waits... and the moment Reaper takes shape again, she reacts.     Bringing her arms in towards her body, the earth around her reacts, shooting up and packing itself around her, leaving only her mouth visible. Just in the nick of time, as the shots dig into the earthen armour she's made for herself. Not to mention she winces, gritting her teeth. "Good luck in getting me to scream, dunderhead... you will need it when I kick your goddamn ass!" she snaps, then kicks into the ground, sending her barreling straight towards him. Perhaps in a manner that might remind Reaper of a certain German knight. Much smaller, but seemingly just as determined with a much fouler mouth. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' No time for talking now; A smart man would've slipped off the small girl and gone for distance. She was blind but fast, so she obviously had -something- besides vision to go on. A smart man would've popped a few concussive grenades and let them rock her to sleep - then put the barrel to the back of the head. Gabriel Reyes may be a smart man, but he's also -in his headspace-. He was REAPER. The undying creature of pain, giving or receiving. And so rather even as the small girl forms rock armor and turns the explosive shells aside - even as she flies TOWARDS him - he merely backpedals, the explosive kick of the hellfire shotguns driving his arms up with recoil. Only to let them drop back down again, a hammer of fire. Which is when the small but suddenly more mass-ladened rock train smashes into him. There is a crack of bone - well, something like bone - as he is sent tumbling back. The hellfire shotguns clattering to the ground, Reaper tumbling head over heels- SCHLUCK. That'd be a village water pump. The tremble of pain, the silent hiss of escaping breath. A single piece, now, the metal of the spigot joining the back of his .. uh... spine. And quote unquote bones. The patter of liquid striking the ground below him, a heel kicking at dirt. And still that low hiss, the sound of a wounded animal, head dropping back. 

:'''{{#var:20|Toph Beifong (20)}} has posed:'''     Bracing herself for impact, Toph barrels straight into Reaper with her left shoulder first, leaning forward even as the shells dig deep into the earthen armour, creating cracks in several places. What matters is that she herself isn't seriously injured besides some big bruises. Stopping just short of the water pump, Toph digs her feet into the ground, skidding to a stop. Raising and shaking her shoulders, the shotgun shells that Reaper had unloaded on her tumbling out to the ground as she fixes the earthen armour covering her. Though she does wince as she realises the way that Reaper hit the construction, especially how the spigot now seems to be... in his spine. Is he seriously injured? He did spoke of death several times... what's the deal with this guy?     When she speaks, her voice is still determined, serious. But there's also... concern? "Surrender, and I'll make sure you'll get medical treatment." His heart is still... beating, unchanged from before. But he still feels wrong. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The heel of the boot kicks at the earth a few more times, her only answer the faint chime of spurs getting spun. A death rattle? Slowly, the Thing relaxes - muscles unclenching. A thud of a hand hitting the earth. The unsteady, muddy vibration of what could be called a heart maintains its uneven pace, as if it had to remember to be a heart. It's really hard to tell what his vitals would be, through her vision. The faint whisper of sand. Weight loss nearby; The clay of dead body weight suddenly lightening. Withering to bones and less. A shift. The wet sound of liquid pattering. The Reaper pulling himself wetly from the spigot, but the liquid that should be blood is disappearing, removing its moisture from the earth below him. Even the distant roll of the sombrero behind her disappears, evaporating with the dropped guns. ".. Medical treatment?" Comes the voice, a low and deathly growl. "Little girl, I'm far beyond the touch of medicine now." 

:'''{{#var:20|Toph Beifong (20)}} has posed:'''     The teenager remains still where she stands, observing him as she awaits his answer. And whether he will be okay or not, it's hard to tell since his body is so alien to begin with.     When he moves though, the final question is answered, and Toph makes a face once more. Eww. Though all she lets out is a heavy sigh, reaching a hand up to her forehead as she taps her foot on the ground. "Should have known..."     Unseen to Reaper, the earth begins moving underneath their feet...     "I'd say you're far out of touch with most things, really..." she mutters under her breath. "Okay, I've tried playing nice, but since you're so stuck on death..." Her foot raises just slightly. "Then /STAY DEAD!/"     The ground opens up underneath Reaper, revealing the deep hole underneath. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Reaper is a lot of things; A high functioning socio-path. A terrorist. A murderer, a betrayer. A violent, death obsessed soldier. A broken ghost of a better man. A savior of Earth, once upon a time. But he is not a man who can fly. The hole opens up, and he has just enough time for an alarm shout of annoyance as he falls in - gloves scraping at the ground in a desperate bid for purchase before he's gone. Into the depths! Leaving only the shattered remnants of peace for this village, a distant memory of innocent summer days before the Reaper came. 

:'''{{#var:20|Toph Beifong (20)}} has posed:'''     All it takes is a stomp, and the hole closes up. If it was somebody who couldn't take such punishment, Toph would feel bad. but this guy clearly is tougher, and perhaps this will give her enough time to deal with the injured and dead. Letting the rock fall down around her, Toph reaches for her radio. Time to call in medical assistance. Hopefully that psycho didn't get to do much damage here before she managed to arrive... 
}}

5307/The Rebellious Debrief - Concord

2017-06-12T19:01:14Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/12 |Location=Summer |Synopsis=Reaper gives a debrief of someone else's mission! Because that's just the caring sort of asshole he is. Also,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/12
|Location=Summer
|Synopsis=Reaper gives a debrief of someone else's mission! Because that's just the caring sort of asshole he is. Also, Sombra shows why people fear her.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117, 571, 1103
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' For the past few weeks - ever since Talon became 'incorporated' with the Concord - Reaper, Master of the Edge and overall number one greatest villain in the galaxy super star, had been running debriefs of his own missions. Break downs of what went right, what went wrong, who was there and how to do it -better-. Of course, if he's going to make Concord run as smoothly as Talon did.. he'll have to expand that little courtesy to other people's missions as well. Thus, calendars update across the board. While Reaper hasn't got rank to pull on anyone, the courtesy checks still appear. Sylvaria - Debrief. Which may be news to anyone actually invovled in putting down that fire, because Reaper wasn't a part of the action. Thus we come to the debrief room itself - white-noise shielded, active camo and passive break lines for that high tech/low tech double whammy. Direct encrypted lines, and blowout exits on all eight calendar points in the event of attack. Paranoia? No, just too many elites in one spot at one time. Gabriel Reyes, the Reaper himself, stands in the middle of the round chamber, the flicker of holographic maps sending strange symbols across his mask. He had - of course - dragged his cyber-daught, that is, talon asset along. "Full mission data is downloaded? Death does not wait for technical delays, Sombra - not this time." His voice is a growl, rasped and reverberated as if he were perpetually on the edge of a scream. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "You seriously need to breathe, Gabe," Sombra says calmly as she checks the technical functions of the room, having easily hacked into it as she lounges in a chair with her feet up on the table. Then she slowly glances up at Reaper with an twinkle in her eyes. "Say, do you breathe now?" Hey, a girl can be curious, can't she?     Either way she turns back to settings things up for the debrief. She herself wasn't present at this mission either, but oh well. Might as well help good ol' Reaper with the debrief. He's certainly military enough to handle it. Must be from those Blackwatch days. "So here we go, mission data coming up on screen one for you there... the security feed will be on screen 2 shortly." Wait, security feed? Of course Sombra would get her hands on things that even he wouldn't have prepared beforehand. "Now, the list of operatives... You really have nothing else to do but to run debriefs?" Her tone sounds slightly bored, even as she works on getting things in order. And as always she makes it look so easy. 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     Maaka can't say she was surprised to see someone this theatrical even in person. It's like a method actor, this 'Reaper', someone fully committed to the gimmick of a dark and lethal force of chaos.     She's got an unlit cigar in her hands, as she produces a lighter. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" She asks. Not like a guy calling himself 'Reaper' would be that much of a boy scout anyways.     The cyborg's regarding the death-masked mercenary with a cocked eyebrow. Is this what it's like when people see her STALKER suit?     She's starting to second-guess the death-mask of her own armor, now. "Mission data's been downloaded already. I checked." She says, trying to focus on the topic at hand. 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     "I can confirm successful acquisition of the previous mission's details. Grimoire even managed it in three hours." says Theurgus, cracking the seal on a red, stylized can of some kind of soft drink before taking a sip. "I do think we should have waited for the Major before doing this, it was her operation." a shrug. "Not that The Organization cares either way." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "... Only a final breath passes my.. mask, now." States Reaper, briefly pausing before altering the word 'lips'. He watches Sombra work for a moment, but what takes him an hour or so to setup she seems to do with a flick of her fingertips. Surprisingly, it's not annoying - because that's what she does. That's her talent, she was the tech head, the infiltrator, the nerves of his wet work spine. You don't bitch about the worms if you're looking for good tequila, and you don't bitch about the 'oddness' if you're looking for good talent. "If you're getting bored, Sombra, I can -find- things for you to do." He snarls, low and dark. And then Alexis speaks. The cowled figure turns that sterile bone white mask towards her. While it's hard to say where he's looking, it almost feels like he's focused on her cigar for a moment. Before he growls, with a low and dark chuckle. "Your funeral." Edge Dad Joke, Ahoy. "Mission data's one thing. Hands on intel is another. That's what Sombra is for." His voice drops an octave, each word punctuated with an unusual stop like he'd dropped a period on each one. And then he motions for Sombra. "Recreated map based on dead-eye trajectory and last radioed position. Include call-in reports of hostile activity." He states. He could -order- it, but then there's no doubt she'd do something while his back was turned. His arms crossing over his chest, a faint creak of metal gauntlets as he turns his attention back to Alexis and Theurgus. "The ... -invitations- .. were sent to all." He states to Theu, before addressing them both. "Let's start with the basics. Sylvaria had been incorporated, but the local regulars had refused to submit. Who authorized the mission, and what were your priorities..?" You know, subtract the hot topic, eye shadow, and melodrama, this might almost be as boring as any debrief breakdown. 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     Theurgus sips from her drink again. "Concord command, via a new acquisition, The Major I mentioned. Small, looks like a child, has enough magical power to level a city block and a temper to go with it." she says, setting the can down on a nearby surface. "Priorities were: Destroy the base, and eliminate all rebels onsite." 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     "Been dead before, it's overrated." Maaka says dryly, before lighting her cigar and puffing smoke like a dragon. She lets it go, before she watches the data. "Major Degurechaff authorized the op, it was her command. Like Theurgus said, we were here to search and destroy all hostile elements, and eliminate the fortifications." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Bored? Hardly!" the hacker responds with a laugh and obviously not intimidated by the snarling. "I mean, with all the information that I have to read through now I'll be busy enough for a while. Besides, if there's anything you want me to do, just /ask/, Gabe."     The arrival of the other people does catch Sombra's attention, and she offers a grin along with a finger wave. "Hola. Welcome to the party, have a seat, I'm just about done." Speaking of which, she only types in a few more things before the final screen lights up with the things that Reaper just requested. The things will be played out in order once Sombra gets the cue from Reaper. For now she sits back in her seat, bringing up another small screen for herself that she scrolls through. All while she pours herself a mug of coffee from the tray that stands on the table. It doesn't smell like regular coffee however... there's a spicy scent to it. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "My name ... is -Reaper-." Growls the dark cowled man aside, almost reflexively, as Sombra speaks. He then shifts his attention towards the map, with the little labels pinpointing the dots of the various strike teams. Hedgehogs, Pixies and Ravens. The dots occasionally flicker and adjust as new data on the recorded timeline comes in - new positioning, updated coordinates, and so forth. Using contemporary data sifting on old 1920's world magi-tech. He shifts his shoulder, looking briefly to Alexis now. ".. And I am -still- dead." For Theu, a slight tilt of the mask, and a growled: "Noted. Child soldiers seems a common theme." Like he's one to talk! Then the map revealing the fortifications and pill-boxes as they are uncovered. Potential fire lanes highlighted. "Data analysis suggests an elite strike from hot-drop along a single lane; Overwhelming force put the result as mostly pre-determined. Considering your objectives, was leadership captured? Were any further sweeps done for secondary fortifications?" And finally arms drop, clawed hands flexing. "And how could the reckoning for these rebel forces have gone better?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Also, indeed, there is coffee not mentioned in the opening pose. Something in it smelling both a bit spicey and a bit chocolatey. Because falling asleep during debrief is a terrible thing. 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     "Not like this one." Maaka observes, letting the cigar hang in her mouth as the briefing goes for spreadsheets and power points. It's almost impressive seeing all the data in such an animated way, but given where Maaka's from this is downright simplistic for her.     "Personally, we made a mistake killing the lot of them. Despite her orders, I feel like we could've at least taken prisoners, interrogated them about any additional cells in the region. All we did was make a lot of noise and stomp out some ants." She puffs again. "I get the impression we'll be dealing with more rebel elements soon enough." 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     "To the contrary." Theurgus says towards Maaka. "A show of overwhelming force like this is likely to cause rebel morale to plummet and any further cells to either surrender, or give up their plans. They know if they try to make a move, they will be met with the same response, as many times as it takes." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     As always the only reply Reaper gets to his request for her to not use that particular nickname on him... is a wry smile.     Sombra watches the two Elites as they speak about the mission. "I have to agree with you both there," she notes, tapping a metallic nail against her chin as she ponders this. "Perhaps taken out the threats, kept a few to extract information from. I mean, it's a shame to kill them /all/ if they can be useful, si?" Here she glances up at Reaper again, arching an eyebrow. "I mean, if you people do your job too well it would be hard for me to do /mine/." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A faint nod in Maaka's direction. "Yesss.. Living prisoners are a resource of intelligence, leverage, and example making. Death is a tool. Waste not.. " A thumb claw drawn across his own throat, small curls of smoke appearing where it rips through the fabric. Only for that fabric to knit back together. ".. Want not." For Theurgus, the mask turns again. And he nods at Sombra, as if to echo her sentiment. "An idea can only wither if you put a bullet in every skull that has it. If you're going to murder someone or something, don't do it half-way. You've killed the easy enemy that stood in one spot; By Darwin, if anything is left, you've made it smarter and harder. Smaller means faster, easier to supply, harder to infiltrate, and you've no quick avenues to find them, now. If they find any contacts in the multiverse, their size won't matter - they'll be able to hit above their weight." A faint, angry hiss from the mask. "There'll be no rest until every potential rebel lays in a shallow grave. No one.. left.. behind." "The Major'll need to find an analyst who is familiar with that level of technology, to know where they'll leap next. And one familiar with the multiverse's level of technology, to watch for tell tales signs of 'upgrades' - that'll put the final nail in their coffin." The sterile mask turns to Sombra, now. And you thought she was just here as the pretty face! 

:'''{{#var:1103|Theurgus (1103)}} has posed:'''     "In my experience, such shows of force are more than enough to dissuade all but the most foolish or stupid Viruses. Some even switched sides in my Drive, helping to bolster the defenses they once sought to tear down." says Theurgus to the Reaper. "And before you say it, they have all been vetted and have proven themselves in battle against their former bretheren." 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     "Humans aren't always so smart. Just because you have the fancy toys doesn't mean you know what to do with them. There are constant reminders of seemingly overwhelming forces getting their asses kicked by natives that know what they're doing: Custer, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan." Maaka says, looking sidelong at Theurgus pointedly. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Dramático..." Sombra mumbles as Reaper gives his little speech. Though when he suggests that she should take part in stopping this rebellion, she gives him a deadpan look. "And what's in it for us if I do that? Does the Concord have an interest in this conflict, or is it personal?" My, is Sombra picky about what she wants to poke her nose into? Seems so. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Which is where it pays to be... proactive." States Reaper for Maaka, his voice a low growl despite the rather mild words. Then speaking to Theurgus, that snarl and snark in his voice - something he just can't seem to shake. Or doesn't want too. "I'll leave experience of your world to you - but this war seems to match what I expect. From a mortal perspective." And then Sombra! "The mission, first. And that overarching mission is Concord - for now." He states, before arms cross over his chest again and he regards all three. "Any further notes beyond 'prisoners'? Any future sweeps looking for surviving... relatives?" 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     "Sort of. Basically the First World War, with magic shit flung about. I can deal with that much." Maaka says, fiddling with the cigar as she holds it in her fingers. "That's up to Tanya to decide what's in it for /us/. As for prisoners, we may have neglected acquiring any intel on-site, but again, that's her problem. In the future, I'd recommend at least making an effort to sweep up afterwards." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Gotcha," Sombra nods in response to Reaper, though she does take a large sip of coffee and turn her eyes back to her private screen where she's typing away at something. "I gotta warn you though, this magic thing? Not my style."     Her head turns, and she looks at Maaka. "You up for some Tequila after this?" When the meeting is over. Which it could perfectly be in Sombra's mind. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "It's for her to offer; Inevitably, it becomes our problem." Begins Reaper, before his growl lowers even further. "Which means it's my problem. An my problems have a very short life span." And then the offer of booze and friendship is made - time for a Lord of the Edge to depart! Because who wants to be around for booze and friendliness? Noooot him! "So. Future operations of this calibre.. we suggest prisoner capture, and post-operation sweep for any bones left in the muck." He states, wisps of smoke beginning to rise from his form. Because every debrief so far has ended with a dissolution! And so should this one! "Consider this meeting -dead-." He quips in that same dark, snarling tone, before his middle dissolves outwards. Smoke flowing and twisting upon itself, more and more of him collapsing into it as it swirls away. Yaaay! 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     POOF! Reaper disappears after a dramatic exit, and Maaka just kind of waves away smoke when the mercenary leaves.     She stamps the cigar out, and Sombra makes an offer that is downright dead-on for what she has in mind. "Desperately." She grins. "Got a place in mind?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Seeing Reaper behave like thisis nothing new, and the edgy departure only makes Sombra look at him briefly before she turns her attention back to Maaka. "Pay no attention to him, amiga. He's like this aaaall the time. I should hack his music collection or something," she muses to herself, not really caring if he's still listening in on them. Rather, she grins and swipes away the screen, making it dissolve into a thousand little particles. "I know just the place where we want to go. We need to go through some warp gates to get there, but eh... good drink is worth it." 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     "He's making me look downright subtle." Maaka observes dryly, before looking Sombra up and down. The hacker certainly ain't bad to look at, and she can't help but grin crookedly. "This gonna be a social call, 'cause if I didn't know better this sounds like an impromptu date to me. Not that I mind, of course." She winks. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "He makes everybody look subtle, really," Sombra says with a shrug, finishing her mug of coffee as she rises from her seat. At the comment however, she arches a split eyebrow at the other woman. "Amiga, I'm honored, but... it's just that school girls aren't my thing," she states with a smirk, all while she brings up her hand and opens a window. "I mean, I'm sure other people would find that cute, but..." 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     Maaka...twitches a little.     That goddamn outfit was going to bite her someday, she knew it, everyone knew it. And now her attempts to look suave just smacked her in the face. "...I..." All she can do is just force that shit-eating grin, as if there's nothing wrong. Yet she's just /seething/ someone has access to that Flit-Out rig.     Goddamn you, Nagato. This is all your fault.     "...let's just go get some drinks." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Keep on grinning. Because Sombra certainly is grinning where she stands, looking over something. "I mean, I can get some of your interests based on your search history, though... yeah, I'm sorry, amiga. It could never work out between us. I could help set you up with some other girls based on this search logaritm though?" she offers, all before she walks over towards Maaka, throwing one arm amiably over her shoulder. At least she doesn't seem to be upset at the other girl. At worst it's just a chance to pull her leg. "But yes, let's go and drink some Tequila. This faction needs some more drinking buddies, we can't all be as stiff as Gabe is, huh? Vamonos!" Maaka better be prepared to be hauled off by Sombra, who seems rather intent on leaving this dreary room behind. Perhaps it's Reaper's smoke or something, lingering and making everything seem so /dreary/. 
}}

5299/A Beacon - Of DARKNESS

2017-06-08T21:26:59Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/08 |Location=Remnant <REM> |Synopsis=Reaper and Nicky have a chat. This is part of the larger 'visiting Beacon' RP. |Cast of Characters=111..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/08
|Location=Remnant <REM>
|Synopsis=Reaper and Nicky have a chat. This is part of the larger 'visiting Beacon' RP.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 968
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' With the tour groups breaking into their own little cliches while Yang talks on, showing off Beacon Academy, the Lord of Edge drifts back with his own like-minded. That is to say, himself. Letting Sombra work and Kord do his own socializing while Reaper's mask turns. Listening to a silent conversation in the comms, his arms once more crossing over his chest. Of course, that means a certain plushie-powered mutant arguing with him is going to have to drop back as well. A low, growling snarl ripples from his throat as he speaks now. "Don't tempt me." He states. And the reality is, he doesn't seem able to speak without growling or snarling in some form or fashion, that dark reverberation of his voice a constant. His cowled head turning to regard Nicky completely, his attention utterly devoted for the moment. It's not a great thing, the wisps of smoke curling from the edge of his form as if he were just a very, very powerful mirage. "If you're so .. impassioned.. " He begins, the word snapped like it was a hateful thing. ".. Why aren't you doing something about it? Mortals die all the time; Consider it survival of the fittest if you kill those that are trying to kill you and yours." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Don't tept you to do what? Start a genocide to slay all those you think are unworthy? What do you count as 'worthy' anyway?!" The young mutant replies, the hand in her pocket a fist, her face showing her anger. "Survival of the fittest? You mean the best armed, don't you? Because nothing of using robots searching for a genetic marker and then blasting those with it until they are charred corpses is speaking of fitness." Stepping up to the larger man, she points to the floor, anger in the eyes. "Come on, crack the planet's core just cause you can. Kill us all. What could I do to stop you? Nothing! Why? Not because I can't try, but 'cause I am not a fragging fighter that can stop planetblasting. And because there would be nothing for me to gain in stopping you. Fighting for others is for others. I fight for myself, I survive, I don't care if you go out and find a way to start over and reset the whole multiverse - I fight for my own survival." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "If life is such a burden - allow me to relieve you of it." Growls the cowled man, in a low voice. His clawed hand twitches, and reaches down to his hips; This isn't a fast motion, though it'll doubtless make people nervous. He slowly pulls upwards, shadowy smoke thickening as if he were drawing a massive shotgun from an invisible holster. This weapon pointed -up-, for the moment, his elbow crooked. Before he flicks his wrist, catching the hellfire shotgun by the muzzle - and proffering the angled combat grip for Nicky's silent rage. "Quit being helpless. You've got fingers and a mind - find a way to do it. Someone is pointing your -murder machines-... Or stay the hell out of the way of those who do find a way. Your pain earns you nothing but lessons; It's your job to learn them." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' Nicky eyes the shotgun, the eyes still glaring, then returning to the mask, the hands still in the pockets. "Oh, I got fingers and a mind. And they're working nicely." Some second passes, in which she just does the staredown game with Reaper, then she backs away just enough to enlarge the space between the two to a bit above an arm's reach, pulling the hand out of the pocket, the fist opening in hid air, and grabbing for the gun - not for the grip or buttstock, but for the barrel just after it. With a smooth motion hinting some training with hunting rifles, she partially recocks the semiauto, peering into the chamber. "What are you expecting from me? Blasting off your mask? Ending a random pupil here to show you I can fight or what? I fight my my own damned terms!" She replies, only to proptly turn into black mist with a light plopp, the gun vanishing together with her form... 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You have an enemy. " Begins the master of edge and drama, the clawed gauntlets holding steady as the hellfire shotgun is breached. Four very, very fat shells sit in the handle rack, all of them cherry red - and hazy, wisps of smoke rising from them. Violence given form. Reaper's voice darkening slightly, to a lower growl. "And I've given you a gun. If you can't figure out what to do from that, then whatever I expect was too much." and then she disappears into a tiny black cloud with his gun. Not that he minds; It'll be back. It always comes back, just the way it was when he awoke from the grave. Just like he did. 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' The black mist cloud starts to draw together, shrinking and then condensing from the ground up in the shape of a black dragon like one would expect it to roam the the swamps of the forgotten realms, the wing membranes of bright red color. A young one, because it is no larger than 6 feet from head to tailtip. And on the second glance, a rather soft and rounded one, staring at Reaper with white plastic eyes, off white teeth showing a huge grin. And all that is just made from fabric and stuffing. The long neck turns, swaying left and right once, the wings stretch, showing off the 'majesty' of the (plushie) draconic shape Nick took. With an eerie silence, the draconic toy lunges forward, towards Reaper's lower body, but dissipating into black mist again before impacting, passing around the armor clad leg. Just after the leg, the cloud starts to pull together again, condensing back into her human shape, but sliding over the polished floor on the back, the shotgun in the hand that held it before, in the same state of ammo inspection as it had vanished with her. "I have an enemy? You can't count." She retorts, tossing the gun up, as she pushes herself off the ground to get back to her feet. "I got a whole world that hates me for being able to shift like that." She catches the gun, closing the brace and swings it around her hand once, offering it back in the same manner it was handed to her. "But that's no reason for me to go and blast off all the damned purifiers heads. Wouldn't make me an inch better than them. Would make me just the same genocidal asshat they are. Want to go out and purge the universe? Find the means yourself, but don't count on reaping the applouse of me." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Well, that was unexpected. The sterile bone white mask tilts down as what was a girl becomes a .. plush.. dragon.. toy. A low growl starts in his throat, and the words are pulled from him like teeth. "You've -got- to be kidding me." And then she lunges forward to his armored shin; But even as she mists around him, he -is- mist. Black, wafting smoke of what was his body, almost by instinct. It doesn't mean much as neither collide, but when he snaps back into 'solid' shape he's facing the other way. Where she slid too. He then places one fist into the palm of his hand, slowly squeezing - knuckles crack, one by one. "Your enemy? No. I am the Angel of Death; Your inevitability. But not today." His mask turns further down towards that proffered gun, grabbing hold of the hilt just long enough for her to release it - then letting it drop, clattering to the ground. Where it begins the slow process of evaporating, black smoke whispering out of it. "It seems a perfectly good reason to kill these.. 'purifiers'. Genetic superiority, you say?" A slow, dark chuckle. "I've always wondered about people who say 'an idea can't die'. Put a bullet into every skull that holds that idea, and watch it -wither-... Go back to hiding, 'Survivor', a fugitive from your own home." Arms cross once more, the mask turned aside. Attention drifting. "Or learn to do something about it." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "I don't kid you. It's what I can do, and it helps me with what I do. I may be an exile for now, but I don't shed a tear for that place. I can't stop the reaper, I can't stop a world." Nicky replies, shaking the head. "And I am not going to wade through an ocean of blood to try to erase fear of myself and those like me and just spreading it by the very same action." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Your ability..." Begins Reaper, his mask turning once more towards Nicky, the word practically spat, ".. is not what's holding you back. " A clawed hand turns up, flexing slowly. "This world has far less.. and they do far more. But if you won't take arms against your killer, then do not complain when your blood lay cooling upon the ground. " And a brief pause, before a snide, reverberating chuckle. "But at least you'll feel all warm and cozy inside, knowing you made a 'good' choice as you die..." Here, his voice flattens, briefly dropping the snark and snarl, "..Instead of living with the necessary choice." 

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:''' "Maybe one day I will have to make that choice... but today is not the day of judgement. Today is just another day." Nicky replies, shaking the head. "Just another day. And just so you know, being stuffed actually feels pretty room temperature inside." 
}}

5295/Death Waits

2017-06-06T13:40:14Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/05 |Location=The Quilt |Synopsis=Sombra's in medical. Death waits - for her to recover. |Cast of Characters=1115, 1117 |pretty=yes }} {{Pos..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/05
|Location=The Quilt
|Synopsis=Sombra's in medical. Death waits - for her to recover.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Concord medical was no Confederate medical - no endless expanse of medical beds, no unceasing line of wards trapped in an eternal looped infinity. Still, it did bring together a variety of expertise from a wide expanse of infinite worlds, which meant if it was broken, they could probably fix it here. Of course, any medical ward worth its salt has beds. No matter how fancy, reclining and relaxing has always been the hallmark of health. What makes this one different is the privacy afforded - and that a monster is in the room with a young Sombra. REAPER. Posted like a spectre at the chair near the door, his arms crossed. Masked features do not show whether he is awake or asleep, trails of smoke still wafting from the tears in his form, and from the seals of his mask. But he? He is already dead; There's nothing left to fix. His asset, however, is alive. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The medical personnel had been busy with Sombra, taking her vitals and checking out her brain and heart activity. Lightning can affect those organs quite a bit, but it turns out Sombra had been lucky. No heart arrythmia has been detected, though she's still on strict bedrest with electrodes fastened on her shoulders and chest to monitor her heart. Before they had returned to Concord HQ the hacker had passed out again, and she's been asleep while the medics have worked on her. No permanent damage, they said. The graft they can't look at, but physically the latino woman is okay besides the injuries she suffered from falling down the roof. Cuts, bruises, things that will heal. For now she needs to be here over the night, just so they can be sure.     A groan leaves Sombra as she comes to again, blinking her eyes tiredly as she finds herself staring up at the ceiling. Slowly she turns her head to the side, her eyes falling on Reaper's form where he sits. "... heya Gabe..." Her voice sounds a bit tired. So she's in medical... "So how much damage did la puta do to me?" she asks, all before her eyes fall on the IV line on her hand. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Needless to say, having a large, masked man seemingly bleeding smoke sitting in the room scrutinizing every activity with laser like focus has given more than a few nurses a case of the nerves. Fortunately, there are always the exceptional ones that manage to push through; After all, there are lots of people in the Concord scarier than Gabe. Even if they're not quite so willing to pull the shotguns. There is no answer to Sombra speaking for a moment, the masked gaze still monitoring the wall somewhere up and to the latina woman's left. Which is when there's a slight creak, and that low growling voice slips out - almost reactive at this point. "My name is Reaper." The cowled head turns, sterile white mask regarding Sombra briefly before he speaks. "Enough to warrant my intervention." He states, voice forever that husky growl. Before finally pushing himself out of the chair, his arms dropping to his sides. Boots clumping as he lazily closes the distance between himself and the med-bed. ".. And to assess your state as a Talon asset." Yeah, that's the only reason he was here. To make sure she was still worth the effort he put into keeping her around! Totally. "There'll have to be a specialist to look at your.. enhancements. One with tight lips and a mortal fear of buckshot to the back of the head." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Again Sombra smiles, looking particularly amused by his reaction to her calling him by the nickname. "Thanks for getting me out of there, I think they would have dragged me in or something." Being in jail sounds boring. Raising her bare arms, the hacker inspects her hands. No major injuries there, nor do they hurt much besides what she'd expect from a fall. Nothing broken. Though she does sigh when Reaper talks about assessing her current state. "I'll be fine, really." Oh right, he's talking about her graft. "I have somebody who can fix this up quickly enough. I think the lightning overloaded it," she responds, then makes a face. "Yeah, it's not working to full capacity, I can tell... I can go in and get it fixed tomorrow if they will let me leave, no need to find other people for this, Gabe," she assures him, then shifts in bed with a wince on her face. "I... kinda want extra tight lips when it comes to my graft." Not so strange, really. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "They'll release you." States Reaper, with the full authority of a man who walked into the American envoy and walked out with a murderous young cowboy ripe for BlackWatch. The snarl is still there - it always is - but there's just not a whole lot of force behind it. Reaper, the murderous terrorist mercenary, moves to the otherside of the bed now. Settling with his back against the wall, where he can watch the door rather than the window. Being closer is just coincidence. "... Mission failure. They escaped. We didn't expect that kind of response time." He begins, with a low growl. Clawed gauntlets grip the seat's armrests, denting the wood with a faint cracking sound. Before his breath hisses out again. "But your information was spot on; Jack is alive. He's my priority target, outside of Concord's... missions." The sterile white mask turns towards Sombra, now, clawed gauntlets releasing their grip. "You've got no orders to join that hunt." He states, curiously phrased, voice low and reverberating. "His death is mine to ensure. His life is my failure to correct.." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Of course they'll release her tomorrow so she can go and get herself back in fighting condition. What good is a hacker who can't hack properly like she does? Sombra chuckles a bit, lying still as Reaper moves settles against the wall next to her bed. And then he does a quick debriefing by the sound of it.     "Si, they were too many compared to the two of us, their skills were too diverse..." Even against an agent of death and a hacker like herself. "Too bad Reinhardt wasn't alone," she sighs wistfully. Only to arch an eyebrow at Reaper. "Of course my information was correct. I ran the scans, there was no mistaking that Soldier 76 is Jack Morrison." Which is why she had told him, because Reaper obviously wants to run into him again. Yet when he speaks again, Sombra can't help but frown.     "Now that's hardly fair... I get you the information, and you won't even let me take part in handling him? Que injusto!" Yes, she /is/ pouting, though it only lasts a moment as she pushes herself up into a sitting position, causing the machines to beep a bit as she grits her teeth. "Let me at least help with the locale, Gabe... So he can't run or get help." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Even if the remain clump together, it means they're less effective in the long run. A target rich environment." States Reaper, putting both his elbows on the chair's armrests - clawed gauntlets tak'ing together slowly as he listens. "You did. But how did he survive the blast? We both-" He breaks off, with a growl. "Gabriel and he both had the same enhancements. And he walks away with only a few scars to show." Gauntlets creak as they grip, and then that hand slams down again; Wood snaps. A long, slow hiss from beneath the mask, before Reaper's voice is back to its normal low growl. "Silencio. Fair doesn't play into -necessity-." He begins, the mask turning to watch Sombra strugglg into a sitting position. That low rumbling growl pulls from his throat, before that clawed hand waves loosely in the air. "Primero, recuperas." He finally states, before moving back to his snarl as if he'd forgotten. "You're no good to me dead or out." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It's interesting to hear how Reaper speaks, how he corrects himself when talking about his former life, about the incident that made him a different man. About how Morrison changed from the commander to the vigilante... Sombra is quiet, watching the other agent where he sits. "... La fortuna might have favoured him, sadly," she muses, offering a brief shrug. No, nothing is fair in life, but she's still going to comment on it. Sure, she hears him tell her to rest and get back into shape. It's annoying to not be able to do anything right now, but hey... it's time to look at the positive thing in this situation. And perhaps annoy dear Gabe some more.     "Awww, if I didn't know better I'd think you genuinely care for me, Gabe," she says with a cheeky grin on her face. "Are you going to bring me candy next time you stop by, hmm? I like the sweet ones best." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "No. Not luck. Planning." Hisses Reaper at the old memory, clawed hands squeezing once more, metal gauntlets creaking as they take the pressure of his contraction. And then she asks if he's going to bring candy next time he comes; The sterile white mask turns back towards Sombra, and there's a quiet, dangerous silence before he speaks. "You're useful alive. My job is to keep it that way, for Talon." He shoves the chair back as he stands, broken arm-rest and all, pacing back to the other side of the room. Putting his back to the corner, now, his masked head turned towards the floor. One ankle crossing over the other, and arms crossing over his chest. SILENT TREATMENT. 
}}

5294/The Clock Strikes 11:55 Not Quite Midnight

2017-06-05T20:18:41Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/05 |Location=Overwatch Earth <OWE> |Synopsis=Reaper goes to murder a defenseless Reinhardt. Sombra comes along. But Reinhardt has friends w..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/05
|Location=Overwatch Earth <OWE>
|Synopsis=Reaper goes to murder a defenseless Reinhardt. Sombra comes along. But Reinhardt has friends watching his back!
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1010, 1111, 1117, 1102, 1120
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' There are some things you don't pull Concord resources for. There are things you don't even pull Talon resources for, because you can't really justify the activity. No, there are some things - some old wounds - that need to be handled personally. And that brings us to SWEDEN. It's dark, the clouded sky allowing only a few strips of moonlight filter through to the chilled ground below. Last blast of chill in late spring, the air carrying a crisp scent from the distant mountains even this far into the country. Lonely breeze fluttering and rattling chain link fences that surrounded the rubble - of the Swedish HQ. A broken statue of it's former commander still looking heavenwardly from its internment among the rubble, shattered corridors exposed to the elements. Plant life has begun to crawl once more amongst the remnants, covering the aging graffiti - some of it for Overwatch's memory. Some of it against. Some if it just marking territory, or advising one to call a certain holo-phone for good times. It was a haunted place of a different time, which the newest generation knows only by stories told by their young parents. There had been talk of turning it into some sort of memorial to better times, but that idea stalled - and so the compound was left to rot, guarded by the smallest security firm that could be bothered doing the job. Which is why a small patrol car, engine running and yellow lights sweeping in circles, sits near the chainlink fence. That doesn't explain why the door is open, spilling the interior lighting across overgrown weeds. That doesn't explain the unanswered chatter of radio, or the flickering holo-screens. It doesn't explain the skidmarks where the vehicle had lost power to the hover units and slid. It doesn't explain the missing guard, nor the request for backup to be on standby. A call long since unanswered. How do you hunt heroes? You start with their memories. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Reinhardt had come to visit Torbjorn here in Stockholm, the old friends they are. A long night of drinking, song, and trading stories, there's nothing that has to do with Reinhardt trying to convince Torby to join the Watch, no sir ee.     Some words may have been said admittedly, choice words at that, but at the least there wasn't a bar fight this time. THe tavern can't exactly contain both Torbjorn AND Reinhardt when they're inebriated and fighting mad after all.     He'll have to sleep it off in the morning, as he heads for the inn Brigiette and him have rented for the night, rubbing his head. He's not in his armor right now, just wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.     He's almost too open a target right now. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney had tagged along with Wilhelm, although she hadn't gone to the bar, or actually met with the engineer. Instead, she'd just discretely trailed Wilhelm most of the way, maintaining about a block's distance. You'd be surprised how little attention people pay to a teenager leaning against something with headphones on, bobbing their head to whatever music's in their head. Which, admittedly in Laura's case, was just the sounds around her. No need for distractions, and the hoodie was keeping her warm. No mask yet either. Those tend to draw attention. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "When will you ever give me a /real/ challenge, Gabe?" Sombra muses for herself as she leans forward from the back seat of the security car, her hands interfacing with the equipment in the vehicle. Well, she's busy working with one hand, the other holds onto some bizarre Swedish pastry, and she's busy munching on it. Heck, she'd even offered a pastry to Reaper. On their trip here she had been set on checking out the quaint stores and bakeries. New it might be, but some parts of Sweden remains the same. And everybody here seems rather set on the strange meal and practiced called 'fika'. So Sombra had bought coffee and a bag of strange pastries, and she's still not done eating them.     "Maybe we should go out again soon. Heck, if we finish this early maybe we can have a night off or something. You didn't drink anything the last time when we went out with Gaige," she points out, her mouth full of pastry as she works. But luckily for Reaper, his fellow agent isn't slow to bring up some screens. Looks like she's in, considering all the security cameras she's just gotten access to. And on one of them? Reinhardt can be seen wandering the street of a suburb to Stockholm. And behind him? A teenager in a hoodie, one that might be familiar. 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' The call didn't quite go unanswered, it just got stuck in limbo a bit as the Paladins had no responders in the area, with it being outside their jurisdiction. Eventually, they decide to send someone just to take a look, the world is a hotbed of trouble after all. The only person remotely close and not otherwise occupied is Kotone Shiomi. So when she arrives she's still wearing her school uniform, and there's a hockey stick bag on her back, and she's got one hand in her pouch. She keeps her eyes open, focusing on the initial people around. Reaper and Sombra remain outside her vision, but she does notice Reinhardt and Laura, and this slowly heads over to them, not quite sure this is the right spot, "Excuse me. I'm looking for the former Overwatch Headquarters?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Focus on the -mission-, Sombra." Hisses a voice from the darkness. The chain fence rattles softly, and from the SUPER DARKNESS - well, medium darkness - steps Reaper. His cowl casting a sharp edged shadow across his sterile white mask, smoke drifing around him as he reforms from walking -through- the fence. Who climbs anymore? Behind him comes a soft, withered moan; The security guard, left in the ruins. DRAINED DRY! But not dead. Fortunately, the advent of the Multiverse brought all sorts of cure to Reaper's particular touch when it comes to the badly injured. And then Reaper takes a moment to add to his usual grim words. ".. Only closers get cookies." A hint of what he once was, with that sardonic remark - only partially snarled. The mask turns towards the screen, watching the image of Reinhardt walking. A brief pause on the hooded teenager behind him, before she's dismissed out of hand - after all, he's only seen Laura once in person. And then Reaper straightens, his cowled head turning in the direction that the unarmored giant strolls through the streets. His voice almost seeming to drop an octave, as if in relish. "... Give me your translocator." A clawed hand offered out. Given or not, The Reaper will then dissolve, a cloying cloud of darkness quickly whipping away on the chilled breeze. If that translocator's given? It's going to be planted somewhere near the 'Mission Target', the Edge Lord reforming just long enough to do so before dissipating once again. Whisps of black smoke curl and sweep like liquid pollution along ankles and alleyways, the tribuaries becoming thicker lines as it moves past the Big Friendly (Slightly Drunk) Giant... 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Reinhardt doesn't seem to notice anything just yet, as he ambles down the sidewalk like anybody else on the way home from the bar. Or pub, this IS Europe after all. He's not quite trashed, but he is definitely sluggish. Being as big as he is, it takes a LOT of alcohol to smash his sense of direction.     His old military instincts override his buzz, as he senses something in the alleyway as he spies something shadowy. Must be really late, later than he thought. Checking his watch, Reinhardt just grumps, wandering towards the hostel down the street. Just a few more blocks, and he can sleep like a bear.     Of course, there's always something. A small Japanese girl approaches him, and Reinhardt cocks an eyebrow. Maybe a tourist or an exchange student? But why is she asking about Overwatch? "...couldn't help you there, they've been shut down and underground for decades now." He says, trying to pass himself off as some other ruggedly handsome older gentleman who happens to be fucking enormous. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney wrinkles her nose, slowing her pace a bit. Something smells.... wrong. Her eyes scan the area, one hand slipping into the pocket that contains her mask, ready to whip it out and pull it on. It's a good thing she'd worn her mission outfit, since every one of her instincts was telling her this was a trap. But from /where/? And then... a schoolgirl. Uniformm looks slightly familiar from the party she'd gone to. But why would they be out at this time of night, especially on a school night...? 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     A roll of her eyes, and Sombra turns her head slightly to glance at Reaper as he walks through the fence, obviously too cool to do the climbing thing. "I am focusing, unlike you I can multitask." Because eating and hacking is oh so hard, both things. Well, for some it might be hard, but a measly security system like this? It's nothing, even children can hack this. As a matter of fact, Sombra did hack into local law enforcement a lot while in primary school.     While Reaper studies the screens Sombra takes the chance to finish up her pastry, chewing on the dough and the chewy marzipan filling. "Eh, we're already going to get this done, so I thought I'd treat us early. No use in working on an empty stomach, huh?" When he holds out his hand though, Sombra can't help but arch an eyebrow at him. "What for?" Though she doesn't hesitate, unhatching the item from her belt as she places it in there. "Make sure you don't break it now, it takes time to build new ones." Still, it doesn't appear like the hacker distrusts her fellow agent. And once she understands what Reaper has planned...?     Sometimes it's easier to sneak in like this... Near Reinhardt and the others, the translocator comes to life, and Sombra materialises over it, picking it up and fastening it on her belt again. It's easy enough to hear them, and she can tell where Reaper is going as well. Better keep in radio contact. If the old Overwatch agent is without his armour... then it's going to be easy dealing with him. But what about the others? Sombra brings up her hand, activates her camouflage, then sneaks out and begins making her way after the group, her steps silent as she stalks them. 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' The question she's asked has been deflected, and for a moment Kotone ponders moving on and asking someone else for directions, but then she notices the black wisps, and she narrows her eyes towards them, and opens up her mouth. "Watch out, there's something here." She warns the two she's talking to, "If you can fight, get ready. If not, get away." Then she opens up her bag to pull out a Naginata and draws what appears to be a firearm from her purse, the latter is swiftly moved towards her temple, and she takes a few deep breaths. "PERSONA!" She pulls the trigger, there's shattering sounds as energy flows through her head, and then it coalesces into a massive skull, a snake slithering around and through it, and Kotone finishes her statement, "Loa, I summon you." The persona starts to float behind her as she pushes the firearm in the hem of her skirt, and she starts to look around for hostiles, making sure to keep her eyes on the mist as well. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney pulls the mask out of her pocket and brings it up to her face as the girl... shoots herself in the head. That... is definitely new. She tugs the hoodie off as well, letting it fall to the pavement. No reason to have her movement encumbered if a fight's about to happen. At least the black and grey X-Force color scheme doesn't stand out in the night too much, which was probably the idea. Her hands clench into fists, although her claws are staying in until she needs to attack. This is a major city, not like the smaller town, and there will probably be more witnesses if things get violent. For now, she could just be a cosplayer. 

:'''{{#var:1120|Soldier 76 (1120)}} has posed:''' It wasn't exactly a distress call, not really, but a name that had gotten Soldier 76 to respond. Without his armor...Well he knew that in most situations Wilhelm could handle himself, but not against Reaper and Sombra. He had gone to the hostel where Reinhardt had been staying, but didn't have time to ask permission. He punched through the van's window, ripped off the steering column and hotwired it. He was now driving full bore towards where Reinhardt and Laura were, trying to make sure his old ally got the equipment in the back of the van. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Indeed, something IS there! A dark, echoing laughter that goes from wisping to a fully, growling sound. Someone's getting into their Bad Guy Headspace - boots slowly walking forward, grinding bits of the road beneath their heavy tread even as Kotone forms her LOA PERSONA - the soft clink of metal armaments hooked to combat armor. The ruffle of cowl. And then the sterile white mask, the street light cutting sharply across it. The sterile mask considers Kotone for a moment - the sword, the gun, the glowing mask - before it turns towards Reinhardt. His voice - so familiar, yet not. Growling, snarling, something Reyes never did until he was on the verge of breaking some green's ass for screwup. And never with that creepy reveberation. "Turn in Bridgette for a newer model, old man?" Hands drop to his waist, and pulling two shotguns out of thin air leisurely. Raising them up, letting them cross just below his mask, as if he were some twisted saintly statue in the world's edgiest church. "The Crusade is over.. time to join the rest of your -kind-." He nearly hisses. And - of course - Laura's out of his direct vision. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Better to ask forgiveness than permission sometimes, as Jack hot-wires the van without so much as letting Brigiette know what's going on. The van roars as Jack gets it going successfully, driving towards where Reinhardt is.     Of cours,e weapon or no, he's going nowhere. "I will handle myself fine, young lady." He assures Kotone, just before he sees Reyes form out of the shadows. "Not on your life, Reaper!" he barks, not even daring to move as he just stays there. "Go ahead, put an unarmed old man out of his misery. That's all you were good for." He says. Reaper isn't the only one who can dish out barbs. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     From directly behind them something else appears in a purple shimmer as the camouflage is broken. A latino woman clad in synthetic materials, just a few feet behind Reinhardt as she draws her submachine gun... all with a determined and slightly amused look on her face. 

:'''{{#var:1120|Soldier 76 (1120)}} has posed:''' You know that van, it gets some nice air when it needs to. With Reaper threatening one of his old allies, he neglected to remember one thing. Monologuing gets you in trouble. The van being driven by Jack slams through a fence to Reaper's left, and barrels straight towards the veritable ghost from Jack's past. Bet he didn't see this one coming. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:'''      Snikt. As her hand claws slide out, Laura starts to sprint forward toward Reyes. Other fun fact about the X-Force uniform, the boot soles are pretty quiet if you're running on the balls of your feet. Reyes is the primary threat, the hacker's just as fragile as any other human. Time to try a similar attack to what she used against that large Grimm. She leaps as she gets within a few yards, foot claws sliding out in mid air as she attempts to kick footholds into the villain's back, one set of hand claws plunging into a shoulder while the other one goes for a stab at the side of the neck. 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' "So you're the one who caused the alarm to go off?" Kotone asks Reaper in a tone of mild discomfort, but she also notices multiple people focus on Reaper, and she figures this persona is better suited for someone else, and there's that other entity she spots in the corner of her eyes, and so she points her Naginata that way, towards Sombra. Darkness flows from the eyesockets of the persona, multiple dark purple flames twisting and turning as nigh-sapient manifestations of death itself, seeking out Sombra to try to terminate her lease on life. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A dark snarl, and the twin shotguns are lowered, aiming right - for - Reinhardt. Trading barbs back and forth all night? The man practically asked to be put out of his misery. That was all that the broken monster known as Reaper needed. "Then.. -DIE-." AND OH GOD THERE'S A BLADE IN HIS SPINE. The Reaper yells out, his aim jerked to the side as Laura plants one right into the lower lumbar like some deranged psychopath with knives for knuckles. Oh, wait. The explosive detonation of the hellfire shotgun ripping up stonework slightly to the side of the giant, Reaper spinning with this sudden new onslaught. However, Laura's claw slamming towards his shoulder? It meets thin air, slipping through smoke. His own clawed gauntlet looking to get a hold the back of her neck in a quick mist-and-twist, and slam her into the- TRUCK Crunch. Sprang. Clank, clunka-clink. That would be Reaper's half-formed self being sent spinning away by the mass of Jack's wild intro, even as Kotone turns her own DEATHLY SELF on Sombra. Reaper's cowled form bouncing along the road, a vague outline in the wafting smoke that grows and thickens. His shotguns left laying where they'd been knocked from his hands. Nope, they're evaporating. Even as Reaper is climbing back to his feet, one hand gripping the caved in side of his armor. The other holding another shotgun, which fills the night with explosive BOOMS as he aims for JACK'S TRUCK. "SOMBRA. Watch your side." He growls. But his attention is aaaaalll for the Overwatch agents. Where -did- Laura go..? 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     VANS     CLOAKING DEVICES     SUICIDE GHOSTS     REAPER     All of this is enough to give Reinhardt a distraction as he sees the van arrive in damn good time. "Typical Jack." He mutters, before he makes his way to the van with his keys. "Could you have done ANY more damage to that van?" He calls out to Jack, before going for the back door.     Inside is all he needs, and he suits up as the Crusader armor opens up to accept its wearer, Iron Man style.     One power up montage later, the towering Knight is ready as he can be while still a bit buzzed, as he grips his hammer, and throws up a shield while he goes to block the shotgun blasts. 

:'''{{#var:1120|Soldier 76 (1120)}} has posed:''' The shotgun blasts tear into the front of the van, and the driver ducks down into the cab, "Didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?!" He calls out to Reaper, his voice masked a bit by the faceplate but someone who's known him as long as Gabe should knwo who it is regardless. The passenger door to the van is kicked off of the hinges, and 76 rolls out, coming up onto a knee and firing a burst of pulse rifle ammo towards Reaper's shotgun toting self. He rises up, firing again as he moves towards the back of the van, where Reinhardt and his shield are waiting, "Just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" He mutters to his friend, as he fires through the shield. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The hacker notices Kotone reacting to her attack, and rather than pushing the attack Sombra kicks back, barely avoiding the dark purple flames as they brush past her, making things hot for a moment. This brings Sombra into a backwards cartwheel, and she lets out a huff as she smirks at Kotone. "Quick reflexes, amiga...!" A voice that might sound slightly familiar to the distorted one that's been on radio for a while. Her left hand has reached down to her belt, and she throws something metallic up into the air above them towards one of the roof tops.     Then without warning, Sombra disappears into a purple particle lightshow, only to appear up where the item was thrown, high up into the air. Immediately she twists her body in midair, extending her left arm towards Reinhardt as her fingers move, causing purple lines to appear across his armour, but the most noteworthy effect is how the shimmering shield disappears, leaving the knight open to attack. "Reaper, now!" she calls out, just as she lands on the roof. One moment later she disappears again... because she knows that upfront combat is not something she can do. That's Reaper's deal, and it's better if she focuses on trying to create openings for him... by striking when they least expect her to. Which is why she runs across the roof tops, her foot steps barely making any sound as she makes her way towards Soldier 76. Laura she can't hack, so it's better to go for him to see if she can mess up his weapon... 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney luckily recieves Jack's warning over her earpiece just in time to go completely limp, bouncing off the passenger's side of the windshield as she's thrown clear. Fortunately, this means she didn't end up under the tires. Unfortunately, it means she's visiting that window air conditioner. *Crunchbangthud* Scrambling to her feet, the wet feeling on the left side of her body tells of sheet metal cuts and scratches, a twinge also indicating a cracked rib. It'll heal. She charges forward again, snagging a lump of brick from the alley which gets hurled at Sombra as a distraction more than anything else, before she dives low, sliding with claws outstretched to either side in an attempt to hamstring the shotgunner. Kotone should be able to keep Sombra busy... 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' Kotone takes cover behind the shield as instructed, and from up close it may be obvious that her hands are shaking a little. Still, she keeps her eyes on Sombra and Reaper, as much as she can anyway, and focusing on Sombra. Having figured out her opponent is swift, she chooses something a little bit faster than death, and the snake of her Persona opens its maw. Then lightning crackles right as Sombra does something to Reinhardt's shield, and with a crack of thunder it rushes towards the hacker, a dangerous blast of electricity summoned by the Persona, "You are both under arrest. Resist fighting now, and this will look better in court." She warns, "You are not obliged to say anything, but failing to answer questions may hurt you if later rely on those answers in court. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You always did love playing the hero, -Jack-." Begins a snarling Reaper, even as wisps of shadow roll away from his form. Like he was burning, without a fire - what grass bravely survived the pavements withering to yellow and then ash. And then he -becomes- a ghost, seeming to expand slightly as he turns translucent; That owl mask floating in the middle of whirling maelstrom of smoke, like an episode of Lost somehow found its way to Overwatch. Bullets zinging through him, to strike the wall on the far side - his voice becoming hazy in this half-way form - his snarling voice continuing as the giant's shields die. "You're supposed to be -dead-." Time to take advantage of Sombra's opening, the hellfire shotguns thumping as he aims at the whole trio. Kotone, 76, and Reinhardt, all nicely grouped together. Shame about the range, it's just a -bit- too far. But he'll trade shots with 76 - he'll trade shots all day long if it means ENDING that story. BOOM! BOOM! BOO-snikt? Another strangled cry as the cowled man is toppled, hitting the ground. Black ichor splattering about Laura as she slides by, only to evaporate - the man rolling off to the side, getting back into his tactical mindset as he gets out of the direct line of fire. Legs steaming, smoke escaping from the torn ... flesh? Whatever it is. Clawed hands go up, gripping the edge of a window box. Flowers wilt, yellow. Grey. Turn to ash. And he pushes himself back up, back against the alley to get some cover from Jack's gun. Shotgun hunting -Laura- for the moment. "You cannot stop -death- itself." He snarls, in a called answer to Kotone. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Reinhardt is able to soak up gunfire, but then his shield gives out. "Oh that's not good." He better get used to that, because Sombra probably will do that to him until the end of goddamn time.     He can still tank, and does exactly that as he charges Reaper, hammer in hand. "KOtone, engage with Sombra!" He orders, before swinging his massive hammer at Reaper, trying to get him to play on the defensive so Jack can line up a shot. Laura does help with this, as she stabs him as she does.     "We can sure as hell try!" is his retort. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney is luckily able to get back to her feet after her slide, mask protecting her eyes from that black goo. She's gonna need a real shower after this. She's peppered with buckshot, red dots speckling across her body as blood starts to flow. "Have you not learned by now? Shooting does not kill me." Another chunk of handy debris is hurled at the black figure, this time a length of pipe from the chain link fence thrown like a javelin. Not /quite/ closing into optimal shotgun range yet, the short barrels on those things limit him. But when he reloads.... 

:'''{{#var:1120|Soldier 76 (1120)}} has posed:''' When the shield goes down, Soldier 76 turns to look for the source. The source is hard to miss, a purple clad hacker who's voice he recognizes, "So you're working with Gabe." He shoulders the rifle as he angles it towards her, firing several pulse rounds in her direction. Trying to make her break for cover, and therefor break the line of sight she needs to hack his gear. Reaper is otherwise engaged at the moment, so he's not worried about him, "You should run while you can, you're outnumbered and outgunned, Gabe!" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It's only thanks to a warning from Reaper that Sombra manages to duck in time to avoid the brick, and she does throw Laura a questioning look before she continues on with her business of interfering with the defense. At least the shield goes down, and Sombra can't help but smirk with satisfaction. There's an opening for Reaper to assault the crusader, and in the meanwhile she can mess with good ol' Jack and--     For the most part, her thermoptic camouflage works wonders. It's harder for people to aim at her. Then again, with lightning it's a different matter. It's not like Sombra doesn't have several metallic items with her, she's even got metal partially implanted into her. As the lightning surges over the roof right as Sombra goes invisible again, the camouflage is broken as lightning strikes, causing the hacker to cry out as she stumbles and falls, slipping off the roof and falling to the ground nearby, some smoke rising from her gloves and tech. It appears that she's knocked out for now, unable to hear Kotone's spiel. At least she's breathing, and her limbs twitch slightly for a moment. But it's clear that Reaper isn't getting any more openings from the hacker after that attack that pretty much took advantage of one of Sombra's weaknesses. 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' With Reaper appearing to be occupied with the others, and Sombra disabled for the time being, out come the handcuffs. The fancy handcuffs the Paladins issue for arresting elites with. She approaches Sombra carefully but swiftly, kneeling down next to the fallen adversary to try to put the handcuffs onto the subject. As she does so, her Persona slowly begins to fade out, leaving her pretty open if Reaper decides to back up his teammate. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' And Reinhardt gets Reaper doing just that - bounding off the wall as Jack turns his fire on Sombra, spinning out on legs that are almost good as new. Well, they still hurt like hell, but when was that every new? The hammer swing clips him, turning his spin a little faster than he intended as Laura closes in again. That snarling retort: "I always did like challenge." Both shotguns are suddenly flung at her; Reload? What's that? Two more are drawn up, the smoke curling away from him towards the ground. That old familiar push and flow of combat - sometimes, he almost understands Widowmaker's obsession with the thrill of it. Which is when Sombra cries out. The reaction from the terrorist is almost instinctive. He falls -into- the ground, as if a hole opened up beneath him. His shadowy smoke flitting and reforming past all three heroes, right behind Kotone as she starts putting handcuffs on -his- asset. A dark chuckle. BOOM goes the hellfire shotgun for the novice Paladin. And then he's moving to scoop up Sombra, PRINCESS STYLE. ".. You'd better hope you always outnumber me, -Jack-. The moment you're alone - you're going to follow your precious OverWatch." A hissed warning, before he flees! Fleeeeee! A normal guy couldn't sprint with someone over their shoulder. But Gabe and Jack? They've got Enhanced Soldier in them. Well, Reinhardt's a giant, so maybe he could just run flat out too. WHATEVER. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     There is no time to call out. Instead, Reinhardt's boosters kick in, and he -thrusts- himself towards Kotone's position. "GET DOWN!" he yells loudly, grabbing the girl as Reaper holds up his shotgun.     The girl will be scooped up in his arms, and Reinhardt winces as he feels 12 gauge buck impact against his back like a hail of bricks. It -hurts- armor or no armor, and he's probably gonna need a chiropractor after this, assuming the pellets don't punch through steel plate and damage his skin. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney slices the twin guns in half as they fly towards her, starting her attack as he moves to pull out new guns. The 'teleport' though... That's not something she can counter. At least Reinhardt keeps Kotone from being shot. Laura starts to go after the fleeing pair, but stops as she realizes there are teammates to evacuate. Grabbing her discarded hoodie off the ground, she tosses it into the still open back of the van, following it with the broken door. "We have to go. Local police are on their way, I can hear sirens. Do you need medical attention, Kotone?" 

:'''{{#var:1120|Soldier 76 (1120)}} has posed:''' As Repear retreats, Jack continues to fire at him until the pulse rifle goes empty, "You couldn't take me on your best day, Gabe!" He yells back at the retreating phantom, before turning back towards Reinhardt and the other two ladies, "Anyone hurt?" He asks, as he can hear the sirens in the distance as well, "Last thing we want to do is get caught out here in the open. If no one is seriously hurt we can lick our wounds once we're safe." 

:'''{{#var:1102|Kotone Shiomi (1102)}} has posed:''' Kotone is shoved aside, and while it doesn't technically save her life, as it wasn't going to kill her anyway, it does mean she gets off with some bruises and scraped knees instead of serious wounds from gunfire. She pushes herself up in time to see Reaper run off with Sombra and sighs, then looks towards Reinhardt, "Thank you, sir." 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Nodding to Kotone, Reinhardt tries to ignore the searing pain in his lower back.     Of course, the shoe drops. "...Shit." Reinhardt realizes too late they will have to -bail- after this. "Please tell me that van is still working!" He calls out to Jack, before he calls Brigitte. He is greeted with the -angriest- German one could imagine.     "-WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON OUT THERE?! YOU TOLD ME TO TAKE THE NIGHT OFF, NOW THERE'S POLICE ALL OVER THE PLACE LOOKING FOR US YOU LUMBERING JACKASS!-"     "...we need to go."     "/Obviously! Stay right there, I'll be right over...once I get all our shit packed. Please get the van back here."     Reinhardt glances back at the van, hoping it's still working. "...we'll do that."     Kotone, Jack, and Laura are all welcome in the van, but they're gonna be greeted with -german rage- when they meet Brigitte at the hostel. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney waits until everyone's in the van and taken care of, before taking care of her own injuries. Gritting her teeth, she grips one of the grab handles in the ceiling tightly as the pellets she'd been hit with are slowly pushed out of her wounds, clattering to the floor. "I am okay. This is why I was following you though, Reinhardt." The slightest hint of a smile causes one corner of her mouth to turn up. "They should think twice in the future." And fortunately for her, she's used to being screamed at, and is fairly decent at playing the 'innocent teen'. Plus, saving Rein's life has to be good for SOMETHING. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     As Reaper makes his escape from the Watch and Paladin Elites it shouldn't be too hard for him to carry his fellow Talon agent. Sombra is smaller than him, and not exactly heavy. Though she does stirr a bit, her eyes fluttering open as she groans in pain. The last thing she remembers is seeing Soldier 76 firing in her direction, as well as the pain as Kotone did something...     Though she can't help but chuckle weakly despite the pain, raising one hand up to touch a finger to Reaper's mask. "... boop." Even if she's clearly hurting, she does smile a bit. "That could have gone better, huh...?" At least she doesn't wriggle or do anything to make it harder for Reaper to carry her. "Did you get any of them, Gabe?"     Too bad there were too many of them, and too bad that they had abilities that she couldn't counter. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A low growl comes from the hissing of Reaper's breath as he runs; He had half hoped Jack would follow him. They could finish that story the way it should have always been; Both of them dead, but only one of them walking. Mission failure was a setback, but it wasn't an ending; They'd failed plenty of times against the Omnics. And look how that turned out. Just look at it. LOOK AT IT. "My name-" He begins "-is Reaper." Talk later. Run to a transit and get Sombra to medical first. Because that's how to take care of a Talon asset. Nothing more. 
}}

Reaper

2017-06-05T18:05:34Z

MiserEnoch:

{{CharacterRedux
|NameOnMUSH=Reaper
|Color=#a2a9b1
|Char_id=1115
|Img=https://blzgdapipro-a.akamaihd.net/media/artwork/reaper-concept.jpg
|FullName=Gabriel Reyes....?
|Gender=Male
|Species=Human-ish
|Theme=Overwatch
|Chartype=FC
|Active=Active
|Function=Lord of the Edge
|Faction=Concord
|Rank=4-Associate
|Ranktype=Member
|Quote="Death walks among you.."
|PAge=??
|AAge=??
|Aging=??
|Height=6'1" (1.85 m)
|Weight=220
|Hair=??
|Eyes=??
|Voice=A Growling Keith Ferguson
|Song='Reaper' - NerdOut! - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDqyheZbsxg
|Profile=A ruthless and remorseless masked mercenary, REAPER had been active on the battlefield for decades - long before Overwatch was formed. His resurgence with the fall of that organization is curiously timed, leaving dessicated bodies in his wake as he moves from fight to fight like an unearthly shade. Armed with a seemingly endless supply of twin 'hellfire' semi-auto shotguns and bizarre abilities, Reaper's focus is on hard, mobile strikes utilizing his expertise in asymmetrical warfare to inflict maximum damage. Reaper claims to be a high-functioning psychopath, and at first brush seems like a shallow soul - conceited, cynical and sadistic. Yet beneath the grumpy exterior lays a man who knows when to be professional, with a hard and unshakable focus on his mission , whether for the Legion or for himself. Rumor holds that Reaper may actually be Gabriel Reyes - one-half of the North America's Soldier Enhancement Program, and a founding member of Overwatch before his death. If so, then what was once a headstrong and pragmatic friend has become something dark and twisted, despite the occasional grim joke.
|Defining=THE GRAVE CANNOT HOLD ME - Reaper is immortal in the classic sense, in that he no longer needs to fear being dead. This stems from his ability to dissolve into a cloying black smoke and reform, the basis of most of his 'supernatural' abilities. While dissolved, he can crudely direct the pace and direction of his ghostly mass, using the ability to both avoid injury and to infiltrate places without air-tight seals. Even full incineration does not appear to be a permanent solution, for he will eventually regenerate should even a portion of his dissolved form escape. This doesn't make him invulnerable; Killing him is only as difficult as killing any 'enhanced' soldier. Making him stay dead is an entirely different matter, although it takes time for him to recover from the cost of each death. If he were prevented from 'reaping' other living creatures, or otherwise entraped and drained, then even he would succumb to a final rest.

THE RECKONING DRAWS NEAR - <CONSENT> When presented with the recently deceased, Reaper seems capable of absorbing the unfortunate to heal himself - leaving a dessicated body, or a corroded chassis in the case of sentient machines. The mechanism operating this cruel power does not seem to differentiate, so long as the thing was once 'alive'. So long as he is able to consume the living, he is able to utilize his abilities - including returning from death time after time.
|Significant=READY FOR COMBAT OPERATIONS - Reaper's proficiency for combat and asymmetrical warfare has been finely honed. While he prefers to utilize the heavy 'hellfire' shotguns, he's more than capable of silent murder or even classic hand-to-hand. His skill set appears to be oriented more in black-ops technique, flanking and attacking from unique angles, but when push comes to shove he can wade in with the best of them. Combining his aptitude for violence with his acquired 'powers' presents a truly unique opponent, such as when he rapidly dissolves and reforms in different poses in order to fire in all directions at once - a technique dubbed 'Death Blossom'.

NEVERMORE - Reaper appears to have experience in strategical and tactical planning. His playbook emphasizes critical success over any other aspect of a mission - no matter the cost. He also has experience working with small, tightly knit crews using an instinctive grasp of a situation. While outwardly vindictive and his leadership style best considered 'cold', Reaper's focus is strictly on the bigger picture and the over-all objective against all other considerations. There are few things that can shake him out of that do-or-die mentality.
|Minor=ENHANCED SOLDIER PROGRAM - Reaper has apparently gone through the Enhanced Soldier Program, displaying strength, endurance, and agility on par with that of a world class Olympian. However, these abilities aren't supernatural but are what would exist for a human at the peak of their training.

HELLFIRE SHOTGUNS - The twin semi-auto shotguns hold four rounds apiece, designed to up close encounters of the worse kind. They are Reaper's preferred weapon for their brutal efficiency. The most interesting part of them, however, is that they appear to be tangled in Reaper somehow - he never has to reload them. Simply throw down the empties and draw two more from his hips. The empty ones will eventually dissolve away, trailing the same cloying smoke that Reaper emits.

FIRST YOU LISTEN, THEN I KILL - Reaper has a fair hand with the Spanish guitar. No one's quite sure why, as it's rare enough to see him even consider hobbies - much less become proficient in something as humanizing as a musical instrument.
|Disadvantages=I'M BACK IN BLACK - Having stepped forth from the grip of death again and again, Reaper has become over confident and arrogant; One might even call it 'hammy' or 'edgy'. If he's got the upper hand, he won't ever quite close the deal - he'll take time to stalk, to monologue, even to kick a puppy if that's what it takes to show just how much control he has. This can lead him to acting rashly if his pride has been poked, walking boldly into traps or acting on the basest of his violent instincts. While in this state of mind it become easy enough for him to miss the obvious, something that has ended up with him once more dead. This extends to his mode of dress as well - barely more than minimal armor, depending on his mobility and his vicious powers to see him through any situation. Not to mention he dresses in creepy costumes and masks, something that simply screams 'classic bad guy'. Or Hot Topic.

THIS IS MY CURSE - Reaper's body is in a constant state of flux, and it is agonizing. This has darkened both his perspective, personality and his goals. He doesn't empathize, he has a hard time relenting, and the whole multiverse has been brought down to two critical factors: With him or against him. He'll gladly use the latter as expendable resources. There are no barriers to a dead man, no hesitation in hurting people to get what he wants - whether physically or otherwise. Even when he's not in his 'bad guy' head space, Reaper seems a cold and malicious sociopath who abandoned morality and ethics long ago.

STICK TO THE MISSION - Reaper's entire existence seems to revolve around one mission or another; Whether an arc-goal or something more immediate and direct, he breaks every situation into its components and assigns them priorities. If a given circumstance is too complex, the obvious answer is to pare it down to its base components. While useful in maintaining focus, it also means that Reaper is not very good at improvisation. There is the plan, there are contingencies, and there are contact reactions. But it's always the unexpected developments that catch him, especially when he's in his 'bad guy' head space and can't be bothered caring about the little things.

MORE! - Reaper is forever hungry, though no food nor water can sate him. Brought about by the unique changes to his body, Reaper's form requires something else - life itself. Whether its a cloud of nanites tearing off raw material to stabilize him or some demonic force pulling the essence of existence is unknown; What is known is that going even a few days without 'reaping' can simultaneously weaken and madden him, sending him into a enraged frenzy as he hunts.

WHAT'RE YOU LOOKING AT? - If his attitude, voice, and manner of dress weren't enough to keep Reaper from being a true socialite, there's also the fact he tends to smoke when he's stressed - or very hungry. As in, literally smoke coming off his form, as if he were slowly evaporating. If he's going to slip into an area, he won't be able to do it with a simple disguise. He can't fade into a crowd, and he tends to draw the attention of security when seen. When you're Reaper, going anywhere is an exercise in infiltration - unless they're expecting you. Or the situation has moved beyond 'stealth'.
}}

Reaper

2017-06-05T18:00:40Z

MiserEnoch:

{{CharacterRedux
|NameOnMUSH=Reaper
|Color=#a2a9b1
|Char_id=1115
|Img=https://blzgdapipro-a.akamaihd.net/media/artwork/reaper-concept.jpg
|FullName=Gabriel Reyes....?
|Gender=Male
|Species=Human-ish
|Theme=Overwatch
|Chartype=FC
|Active=Active
|Function=Lord of the Edge
|Faction=League
|Rank=4-Associate
|Ranktype=Member
|Quote="Death walks among you.."
|PAge=??
|AAge=??
|Aging=??
|Height=6'1" (1.85 m)
|Weight=220
|Hair=??
|Eyes=??
|Voice=A Growling Keith Ferguson
|Song='Reaper' - NerdOut! - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDqyheZbsxg
|Profile=A ruthless and remorseless masked mercenary, REAPER had been active on the battlefield for decades - long before Overwatch was formed. His resurgence with the fall of that organization is curiously timed, leaving dessicated bodies in his wake as he moves from fight to fight like an unearthly shade. Armed with a seemingly endless supply of twin 'hellfire' semi-auto shotguns and bizarre abilities, Reaper's focus is on hard, mobile strikes utilizing his expertise in asymmetrical warfare to inflict maximum damage. Reaper claims to be a high-functioning psychopath, and at first brush seems like a shallow soul - conceited, cynical and sadistic. Yet beneath the grumpy exterior lays a man who knows when to be professional, with a hard and unshakable focus on his mission , whether for the Legion or for himself. Rumor holds that Reaper may actually be Gabriel Reyes - one-half of the North America's Soldier Enhancement Program, and a founding member of Overwatch before his death. If so, then what was once a headstrong and pragmatic friend has become something dark and twisted, despite the occasional grim joke.
|Defining=THE GRAVE CANNOT HOLD ME - Reaper is immortal in the classic sense, in that he no longer needs to fear being dead. This stems from his ability to dissolve into a cloying black smoke and reform, the basis of most of his 'supernatural' abilities. While dissolved, he can crudely direct the pace and direction of his ghostly mass, using the ability to both avoid injury and to infiltrate places without air-tight seals. Even full incineration does not appear to be a permanent solution, for he will eventually regenerate should even a portion of his dissolved form escape. This doesn't make him invulnerable; Killing him is only as difficult as killing any 'enhanced' soldier. Making him stay dead is an entirely different matter, although it takes time for him to recover from the cost of each death. If he were prevented from 'reaping' other living creatures, or otherwise entraped and drained, then even he would succumb to a final rest.

THE RECKONING DRAWS NEAR - <CONSENT> When presented with the recently deceased, Reaper seems capable of absorbing the unfortunate to heal himself - leaving a dessicated body, or a corroded chassis in the case of sentient machines. The mechanism operating this cruel power does not seem to differentiate, so long as the thing was once 'alive'. So long as he is able to consume the living, he is able to utilize his abilities - including returning from death time after time.
|Significant=READY FOR COMBAT OPERATIONS - Reaper's proficiency for combat and asymmetrical warfare has been finely honed. While he prefers to utilize the heavy 'hellfire' shotguns, he's more than capable of silent murder or even classic hand-to-hand. His skill set appears to be oriented more in black-ops technique, flanking and attacking from unique angles, but when push comes to shove he can wade in with the best of them. Combining his aptitude for violence with his acquired 'powers' presents a truly unique opponent, such as when he rapidly dissolves and reforms in different poses in order to fire in all directions at once - a technique dubbed 'Death Blossom'.

NEVERMORE - Reaper appears to have experience in strategical and tactical planning. His playbook emphasizes critical success over any other aspect of a mission - no matter the cost. He also has experience working with small, tightly knit crews using an instinctive grasp of a situation. While outwardly vindictive and his leadership style best considered 'cold', Reaper's focus is strictly on the bigger picture and the over-all objective against all other considerations. There are few things that can shake him out of that do-or-die mentality.
|Minor=ENHANCED SOLDIER PROGRAM - Reaper has apparently gone through the Enhanced Soldier Program, displaying strength, endurance, and agility on par with that of a world class Olympian. However, these abilities aren't supernatural but are what would exist for a human at the peak of their training.

HELLFIRE SHOTGUNS - The twin semi-auto shotguns hold four rounds apiece, designed to up close encounters of the worse kind. They are Reaper's preferred weapon for their brutal efficiency. The most interesting part of them, however, is that they appear to be tangled in Reaper somehow - he never has to reload them. Simply throw down the empties and draw two more from his hips. The empty ones will eventually dissolve away, trailing the same cloying smoke that Reaper emits.

FIRST YOU LISTEN, THEN I KILL - Reaper has a fair hand with the Spanish guitar. No one's quite sure why, as it's rare enough to see him even consider hobbies - much less become proficient in something as humanizing as a musical instrument.
|Disadvantages=I'M BACK IN BLACK - Having stepped forth from the grip of death again and again, Reaper has become over confident and arrogant; One might even call it 'hammy' or 'edgy'. If he's got the upper hand, he won't ever quite close the deal - he'll take time to stalk, to monologue, even to kick a puppy if that's what it takes to show just how much control he has. This can lead him to acting rashly if his pride has been poked, walking boldly into traps or acting on the basest of his violent instincts. While in this state of mind it become easy enough for him to miss the obvious, something that has ended up with him once more dead. This extends to his mode of dress as well - barely more than minimal armor, depending on his mobility and his vicious powers to see him through any situation. Not to mention he dresses in creepy costumes and masks, something that simply screams 'classic bad guy'. Or Hot Topic.

THIS IS MY CURSE - Reaper's body is in a constant state of flux, and it is agonizing. This has darkened both his perspective, personality and his goals. He doesn't empathize, he has a hard time relenting, and the whole multiverse has been brought down to two critical factors: With him or against him. He'll gladly use the latter as expendable resources. There are no barriers to a dead man, no hesitation in hurting people to get what he wants - whether physically or otherwise. Even when he's not in his 'bad guy' head space, Reaper seems a cold and malicious sociopath who abandoned morality and ethics long ago.

STICK TO THE MISSION - Reaper's entire existence seems to revolve around one mission or another; Whether an arc-goal or something more immediate and direct, he breaks every situation into its components and assigns them priorities. If a given circumstance is too complex, the obvious answer is to pare it down to its base components. While useful in maintaining focus, it also means that Reaper is not very good at improvisation. There is the plan, there are contingencies, and there are contact reactions. But it's always the unexpected developments that catch him, especially when he's in his 'bad guy' head space and can't be bothered caring about the little things.

MORE! - Reaper is forever hungry, though no food nor water can sate him. Brought about by the unique changes to his body, Reaper's form requires something else - life itself. Whether its a cloud of nanites tearing off raw material to stabilize him or some demonic force pulling the essence of existence is unknown; What is known is that going even a few days without 'reaping' can simultaneously weaken and madden him, sending him into a enraged frenzy as he hunts.

WHAT'RE YOU LOOKING AT? - If his attitude, voice, and manner of dress weren't enough to keep Reaper from being a true socialite, there's also the fact he tends to smoke when he's stressed - or very hungry. As in, literally smoke coming off his form, as if he were slowly evaporating. If he's going to slip into an area, he won't be able to do it with a simple disguise. He can't fade into a crowd, and he tends to draw the attention of security when seen. When you're Reaper, going anywhere is an exercise in infiltration - unless they're expecting you. Or the situation has moved beyond 'stealth'.
}}

5285/The Blurbly Open Debriefing

2017-06-01T20:52:06Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/06/01 |Location=Sector Zero - Space |Synopsis=Debrief of the Blurb. Ends with a tantrum. |Cast of Characters=1115, 1117, 954 |pretty=yes }} {{..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/01
|Location=Sector Zero - Space
|Synopsis=Debrief of the Blurb. Ends with a tantrum.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117, 954
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Getting Gaige to drink straight whiskey and burn her throat on Pandora was fun. Taking Sombra out on that same night so she could reveal Reaper's name was actually Gabe? More fun. Going to Moxxxi's and blowing a wad of stacks so that the Talon Agents and their potential could enjoy a traditional post-mission destress? Super fun. Well, for some people. Reaper, being the joyless buzzkill he's become lately, has decided that the fun times have ended and its time for the dreaded DEBRIEF. That's right; Every mission, successful or not, gets torn apart and considered from all angles. Otherwise, how else could it be done better, or a scenario like it performed flawlessly next time? And so Sombra gets the general notification on her public schedule- And the rest of the Concord as well, a small note in an otherwise unimportant day. Reaper - Debriefing - War Room. Available to all and any to input their ideas. Gabriel may have become a psychopathic, death obsessed edge lord, but beneath the Hot Topic and eye shadow he's still a soldier. The room itself is already setup for this, darkened to near pitch black, with the glow of holographic images providing the only ambient light. Images of the Briar, in 'exploded' view for deck by deck analysis, with the 'mold' eating into its hull. The last known locations of deployed peoples, contractors, Fleet and researchers set as color coded dots. And floating slightly off to the side, eclipsing everything by pure size, is the cylindrical megacity/satellite known as CentCom. Only a portion of it shown, and that nearly flat because of sheer scale. Reaper is here, of course, feet at shoulder width apart, arms crossed, his sterile white mask turned towards the relevant mission data.. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     One good thing about these debriefings is that Reaper usually provides coffee for them so she doesn't yawn too much and risk annoying him without it being calculated into equation. And it would annoy him too much if she didn't show up, besides... it would be unprofessional. Sure, Sombra loves trolling and doing her own thing, but despite appearances she does actually care about this whole deal. It's only fun pulling Reaper's leg if it's in good humour and doesn't affect her plans.     The latina hacker strolls into the war room, her eyes already on the screens. Perhaps it comes as no surprise when she reaches out her hand and 'hacks' the screens, not disturbing them, but rather copying them into smaller holovid screens that she pulls through the air so she has her own backup of the meeting data. "Heya Gabe." Her greeting is light and amiable as always, and she sits down at the table, pushing the screens aside before she leans forward to pour herself some of that delicious smelling coffee. "You missed the mission in Dorado the other day, you know..." she begins, a sly look on her face. Has he heard about it and how a certain soldier was there...? Perhaps she should give a debrief on that mission as well. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord got the message, and simply shows up at the debriefing without much in the way of an entrance. If one isn't paying attention they might not even notice his arrival. He moves with a smooth, ground-clearing gait until he finds an adequete spot that makes it clear he's a guest while making his presence abundantly clear. He doesn't say a word, though a pair of ghostly blue eyes focus on Reaper through the hawk-like helmet for several seconds. The death imagery is very familiar to Kord, being from an area that worships a death god.     The shadows in the room seem to sharpen, getting a deeper contrast as long as Kord is in the room. It's a little eerie, making the shadows cast by the holographic projector seem to swallow up any detail.     His head swivels and he focuses on Sombra next. Just a few seconds to acknowledge her presence there.     Man of few words, so far. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Coffee indeed; Mayan Mocha, as always. Made for the latin taste, with a chocolate smoothness interrupted by spikes of spice. Because what good is sweet without heat? How, where, and when Reaper learned to make this is anyone's guess, or even why - he just does when it's debrief time. Perhaps it's like Sombra said, and it's all part of the grander strategem to keep people from yawning or slacking off. Yeah, that's gotta be it. The mask drops a bit as Sombra speaks, a faint creak of gauntlets as his grip on his own biceps tightens. The hooded head turning slightly, his voice - a reverberating, hoarse growl as if he were on the edge of a scream - rolling out. "My name is -Reaper-." It was an old argument. One that Sombra continually ignored - and one that Reaper continually pressed. Eventually he'd win. Or she'd die - of old age. One of those. And then he turns around completely, masked head lowering a bit more. Shame one can't see his facial expression, isn't it? "What -about- Dorado..?" He begins, a low snarl working its way from his throat. And then someone else is here. And THEY wore a bird mask too? How dare they! Although his head turns slightly as the shadows around him deepen, wisps of smoke rising from his shoulders as if in response to an unseen threat. Or stress. Or.. maybe a slip in concentration? Without knowing what he is, it's hard to say how he reacts. Before a dark chuckle emerges from his growling voice, a faint nod to the Count as well. And then it's time to stalk to the otherside of the hologram, swiping his clawed gauntlets across the projection surface. "We received a distress call at 0923 from zero sector; A ship affected by a biohazard, heavily damaged and already suffering loss of crew. It was close enough to a .. megacity structure that rescue operations could begin at once." The sterile white mask turns. "Their death would not have been an issue, save this particular vessel was run by three separate entities. Fleet, contracted through Paladins. Civilian contractors with nothing. And the Research Division, contracted through us." A snarl, the gauntlet swiping a few times over the projector. Various sections of the four deck ship - capped with a fifth 'Bridge' deck - highlight as he hunts the right setting. Finally, the first deck port side lights up. "I made the decision to deploy when that came to light. There were other agents on the field as well.." He turns his head back to the projector, trying to pull up the agent files from the Paladins and the unknowns from the Watch. Stupid technology. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     My, it appears that more Concord members than Arthur join them for these things. Sombra arches an eyebrow as he walks in, and when he looks at her, the hacker smiles and fingerwaves at him. "Hola~ Kind of you to join us, el Conde."     By now Reaper should know that Sombra can and will refer to him that way, a nickname of his old identity. Snarl as much as he wants, but it looks like she's not exactly scared of it. So why does he press it like that? It's a fun thing to do, really. Nearly as fun as it is to feed him small info at first and see how he reacts. She's already sipping her coffee when he snarls for her to give more info on the the mission she went on by her own some days ago. "Relajate, I will give info on it. /After/ you are done with the mission you lead, of course. I wouldn't dream of interrupting you~!" she smiles, leaning back in her chair as she crosses one leg over the other.     Okay, time to get started. Immediately quieting down, Sombra holds her coffee mug in her hands as she looks up at the screens, taking in the information that she already knows considering she's the one who got most of these blueprints and images for Reaper to begin with. When he's struggling with the agent files, she does raise one hand, and a purple file appears for Reaper to click on and interact with. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     The nickname given to Kord gets the man to affix Sombra with a withering stare that maintains for far longer than it should and in total silence. He only pries his gaze away because the actual debriefing is beginning. Just the subtlest displeasure with her overly familiar attitude when it's directed at him. The 'knightly' figure in red and black pays close attention to what's being said and tries... oh he tries to understand most of what is being said.     It's also good he wears a mask, because the face he's making under it is not indicative of a man who knows what a megacity or a ship large enough to be run by three separate organizations is. He knows, after a minute, that he's looking at some kind of physical representation of it when he looks at the holographic projection.     He crosses his own arms as he notes the interplay between Reaper and Sombra. He struggles with the tech, and she does something Kord can only equate to magic in order to help Reaper out. His eyes follow between the two of them carefully.     Kord still hasn't much to say. He's clearly paying attention, though. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' It appears poor Sombra has -two- grimlords glaring at her. Reaper, for her comment about not wanting to interrupt him. He can't argue with it, which is the worse thing of all. And, of course, Kord himself. The Edge Lord then notices the purple button - of course it'd be purple, because it's a subtle reminder of just how much Talon, and by extension himself, depends on her talent. Another low growl of annoyance as the button is pressed, displaying the responders. Small squares showing images of their faces, with lines connecting those pictures to tiny colored dots. For the Paladins? Shigure, the shipgirl. A massive, actual battleship that sidles up to the Briar, only for the holo representation of biohazard moss to extend tentacles and try to snare her. She disappears into a smaller dot, and slips inside. For the Unknown, Alden the metal were-wolf looking thing, and a slim girl in a stolen EVA suit. With claws. X-23, although both are labeled 'Unknown Operators'. Finally, Reaper and Sombra, both in a shuttle. The playout goes fairly smooth; The zoom-in on the ship itself, which gives it almost a castle like appearance. Four decks, ladders and staircases and a central elevator, with the top most fifth 'bridge' deck being half as large. Mold eats through the fourth deck and partial third, sectioning. The dots move back and forth, the Unknowns in the third and second aft, the Paladin in second fore, and the Concord in the first deck. There's even a moment of playback when Sombra convinces the foolish other agents that Research is infected and they should help gather everyone to a central point for Concord to 'rescue'. It was a lie, but it meant other Agents prioritized Concord's rescue of R&D over everyone else. AT the end, the ship explodes. Because the shipgirl blew it up, while Sombra and Reaper fly off with a load of R&D personnel. Other agents rescue their own various and sundry crew. ".. Final interaction was the full .. -death-.. of the Briar, and the Biohazard. Our primary objective was complete, although we failed to harvest a sample of the biohazard for Concord use." Growls Reaper, finally stepping away from the projector. And then turning that white mask from one to the other. "Now... how could it have been done.. -better-?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Is this Reaper's long lost cousin or something? Sombra's friendly expression turns to one of amusement, and she doesn't seem the least bit intimidated. "I already know you're not mute, so why not say something? After he's done, that is," Sombra says to Count Kord. Of course she's read up on the members of the Concord, as well as many other Elites that caught her interest.     It's easy to notice how Kord watches her and Reaper, and it strikes her that people might be showing up to these meetings to get to know the two Talon agents. Not an unwise thing, as you often learn a lot more about people meeting them face to face. And well, Kord doesn't seem like a people person. Seriously, what is it with these edgy people around her?     The mission hadn't been too hard, and lying to the other Elites had been an easy task. A big sip of coffee is taken just as Reaper asks what could have been better... "Well, obviously we could have gotten a sample of the mold. I didn't have anything to store it in however, and it would have been a severe risk it would have eaten into /my/ tech," Sombra admits with a frown. No thank you, she doesn't want mold in her brain or her spine. "If that had happened I would have been unable to complete our primary objective. On that matter... what were /you/ doing while I was up interfacing with the ship and making sure the other Elites could gather up the researchers for us?" she asks, honestly curious. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord watches the display play out the events, simulated based on the information given. He's entranced, really, because nothing of this tech level exists in his world. It can't even be emulated with magic. He observes the events as they play, and takes note of all of the varied positions of the entities therein. He turns his head to regard Reaper when he mentions that they couldn't gather any of the biohazard, and makes a soft rumbly noise that is his first sound since he got here. He didn't even make footsteps. When he speaks up, his voice is vaguely Romanian as well as calm and deep. More... Smooth Dracula than one might expect.     "It could have been part of the deception, if that was a secondary goal. Convincing them that the Concord wants a sample to use our abundant resources on researching ways to fight the mold. Not a complete lie, it just avoids explaining the full intent."     He then points out, "If I was present, there is a chance I could have retrieved a sample without the other parties present noticing. I am adept at moving undetected in a battlefield, but I am working with the conditions presented to me."     He turns his head to regard Sombra. He shuffles his feet somewhat and breathes a long sigh, somewhat muffled through that mask of his. He isn't as growly as Reaper, of course. "Must you treat me with misplaced familiarity? I have a title, and a name," he says, as if he is already considering the idea that she'll just ignore that altogether. He's probably not going to be as stubborn as Reaper is with his own name. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Delivering death." Comes the simple answer from Reaper to Sombra's question, before he taps on the first deck - rewinding the video to show his dot. Flitting back and forth from fore to aft, slipping along maintenance shafts. Far faster than he really should be able too, considering the 'intrusions' from the mold that cut maintenance into pieces - smoke form, right? "And seeing if I could drive the mold to the lower decks - where the other agents were. Their .. accidental death ... could only be our strength, in future conflicts. Afterwards, gathering the Researchers and leading them to our aft connection." Camera zoom, showing Reaper dragging the emergency closet full of oxygen masks. Trailed by nervous researchers. A silent conflict with Shigure the Shipgirl and her followers of Fleet crew, making way. The conflict, whatever it is, is argument only, although one can only see Shigure's mouth moving. Reaper wears a mask, after all. And there's Sombra, coming from off screen with her own flock! Camera pans back out. "I tried to capture the mold. It tried to devour me." A dark chuckle. "So I devoured its essenced in return." A swipe of the claw, panning back out. Reaper considers the map as Count Kord speaks, tilting his head aside for a moment. "Skill.. or supernatural ability?" He asks of Kord's ability to move undetected. And then points to the R&D section on the first deck. "Mm. The R&D section could have been detached, had we time to clear whatever obstructions were keeping it attached to second deck. Let it drift clear. This would give us both our sample and our contracted rescue. It would mean the death of everything else on the first deck... " Claws creak as they tighten. "Not an issue." "Approach from a different deck than first and aft?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord makes an emotive gesture with one of his own claw-adorned gauntlets, beginning his explanation of his stealth, "Both. I learned how to hide from predators in the dark forests of my homeland, due to my... inability to gather my own tamed beasts to protect myself in my youth." Kord just admitted he's a bad trainer. Probably not hard to imagine, he gives off a weird vibe even to normal people. "I learned to supplement that with my magical strengths later on, and I have had this armor and cape crafted so that it does not produce noise as I move. I bend the shadows to my will. I work best at night... naturally."     "My flight is also as silent as a distant ghost."     As for the rest of the suggestions, Kord leaves no further input for now. He recrosses his arms and gives the readout more scrutiny while he tries to think of some way to contribute. He is not familiar with vehicles of this size or the combat parameters therein, so his ability to participate is clearly limited. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Ah, of course. Sombra chuckles at that answer, shaking her head just slightly. Oh Reaper. "No wonder I couldn't see you down there... the cameras were all taken over by the mold. Should have known," she muses and leans forward in her seat, taking her mug in both hands and sipping it somewhat loudly. Aaah, tasty. "Let's hope the mold doesn't give you indigestion." Or whatever Reaper gets whenever he eats bad souls.     The way Sombra uses tech might appear to be magic to most people, with how quickly she works with it, lights appearing in mid air with a single motion of her hand. Perhaps it's a good thing that she seems curious when Kord speaks up. Reaper asks a good question indeed, and Sombra remains quiet as she pulls up Kord's file, looking over it before she flicks it over to Reaper. Here you go, buddy. It's only when Kord speaks directly to her that she speaks up again, one split eyebrow arching. "But I do refer to you by title, El Conde." Count in Spanish should translate well enough thanks to the translation effect. "If I act familiar, it's because I am familiar with you. You will get familiar with me in time too, don't worry," she smiles, then turns her attention back to Reaper. "Isn't that so?" Even if she doesn't say it, he should hear the unsaid nickname she has for him.     "It's good with more stealthy agents, isn't it? Maybe we should work together sometime," she asides to Kord.     As for their approach on the ship the other day... "Eh, I doubt I would have been as effective in an area with a lot of mold. Unlike you I can't change my physical form. I would have been slower, and possibly a liability." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "I am the Angel of Death; I do not -get- indigestion." The masked face turns a bit towards Sombra as she mentions just how well she knows him. A low, annoyed growl ripples through him, but otherwise he doesn't deny it. After all, she's avoided using THAT name so far. It's a step in the right direction. And then his attention shifts to Kord, the faint creak of armaments as he shifts his weight from one leg to another. "Naturally." He snarls. Although, honestly, can he do anything but snarl? "Are you capable of.. incorporeal movement as well?" To demonstrate what precisely he means - the Reaper suddenly dissolves. A figure of salt dipped in water, particles of dark smoke flowing smoothly over and around the projector - causing the image to flicker as if covered in a sudden dust storm - before reforming in front of it. In precisely the same posture as he was before. One arm drops, the other clawed gauntlet reaching up to snag the proffered square of data as Sombra sends it his way. Mask turns. Tilts. And then claws squeezed closed, letting the square pixelated into nothingness. Memorized. "Mm. Point. And the mold altered immunities too quickly for anything but an overwhelming blast to be effective - as this.. Shigure.. demonstrated. A chemical distribution to blanket and corner the mold for isolation?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord seems to take particular offense to Sombra's contradiction, as might be gathered from his firm tone. Yet he is not angry, it's just a little more emphasis. "You are not familiar with me, and it is unlikely you ever will be. And just the same, you are only a fellow soldier to me." Seems pretty confident and definitive. As usual, people with masks don't really appreciate that kind of implication.     "I am unable to do that," he tells Reaper, "I... am envious of that ability. It would..." He trails off and his head turns as if he's hearing something in the room that's otherwise inaudible. Sombra might know, and it'd be in his file: Yveltal, his worshipped god, has a direct line to his head.     "It would be of great use to me," he continues as normal, as if the interruption wasn't anything important. "Maybe it is an aspect I have yet to master. As old as I am, there are still mysteries to uncover." He doesn't /sound/ that old, but his age on-record is his late 50s, which is /super/ old for a medieval-type world like the one he comes from. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     In contrast to Reaper and Kord Sombra appears to be all relaxed about this entire deal, though she can't help but roll her eyes. "Seriously, you guys are so tense. You need to relax with the edgy deal, it's not like I'm going to hug you or anything, so stop worrying. We're coworkers." And she even leans over towards him, smiling. "I'm used to dealing with Gabe here, so..." It's not like it's new to her.     Another mug of coffee is poured, and the hacker drinks some more. "I'm not sure how easy it would be to contain that. Maybe we should get somebody who's better at getting samples in the field while the rest of us focus on our different skills?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' So the Count and the Reaper are almost the same age as well; At least, if one goes by the Count's physical apperance and Gabriel's birth certificate. Somewhere along the line, there must've been a horrible brush between the worlds. That, or a developer got lazy. There's no telling what Gabe looks like now; An old guy with grey skin and a receeding hairline? Something that slipped through a crack in the world from the outer darkness? Precisely the same as he was when he 'woke from the grave'? A rotting ghoul? Third eye? No telling, and the mask's screws on his forehead show that getting answers will probably involve some hardware and the ability to hold him down. Somehow. A faint grunt of acknowledgement that their powers of 'Darkness' was similar but not at all the same. For example, Reaper couldn't fly, his incorporeal form hugging close to the ground. Probably. And then Sombra speaks, taking more of the mayan mochan for herself. The Reaper doesn't seem to mind, his arms crossed again. But this time, his finger-claws are clicking a steady stacato as he considers the problem of how to do it better. Although he does spare an annoyed, low growl for their resident hacker at her use of his name. "Sombraaaaaa..!" He snarls down low, drawing out the last syllable before snapping it off like he was biting someone's finger. A hiss of air from the mask, before he settles back on the problem at hand. "Deployment was immediate. There was no time to call in anyone who wasn't already on the scene. So.. if we have time to prepare, bring someone from the Minds. Someone with access and experience in a lab. Or fool the other agents into doing our collection for us, to spare our resources and exhaust theirs. Otherwise, secondary priorities are just that - secondary." Arms swing down again, swiping across the projection. A flickering of tiny holographic boxes pouring downwards showing as the session is being saved. "We'll need more information on the two unknowns. They were not the usual tipos." Mask turns again, for Sombra. "That's on you." Finally, he turns complete, arms crossed once more. Mask lifts. ".. Count Kord." He begins, using the other guy's full name. Edge respects Edge, man. "Final thoughts?" 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord has a strange response to Sombra. "'Edgy deal'?" For whatever reason, that utterly confounds him. It isn't some kind of switch he can turn off. He turns his attention back to the display of holographic information when it finally gets swiped away for archival. His eyes search for the source of this strange contraption's power, and he even tilts back to get a look at the whole display and any wires or such that might be run across the floor.     "The strange beast is named Alden. He assisted in repelling an attack on my lands by the... abominations that I have spent much of my life hunting," he explains, "Alden's priorities are in helping those who ask for it, in the manner of a mercenary or a storybook hero. If he was present it is likely he was called there to assist, maybe from the civilian group mentioned earlier." He doesn't seem to /disapprove/ of Alden, though, based on his tone, and continues, "He is able to transform to meet his combat needs. The other I have never seen before." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It's a thing she's gotten used to, really. The fact that Reaper literally growls her name is met with a blank look, and the hacker cants her head, making her hair bounce against her shoulder. "You really need to relajate." Another coffee sip, and she sighs, leaning back in her seat more. But she does nod. "The wolf is a digital creature called Alden..." she confirms what Kord said. "And I think I overheard the girl call herself X-23 when I was in Dorado some days ago." Hacking radio channels is pretty fun after all.     "Speaking of which, your friend Jack was in Dorado at the time and was interfering with some old friends of mine." Friends. Right. What mattered is that she could use him to her purposes at the time.     Count Kord earns a snort, and Sombra points between the two men. "You two obviously shop at the same place and listen to the same dreary music. The internet calls you two edgy." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "I did not have direct contact with her beyond the comms - so I do not know how she managed to seal off a section of bulkhead for her own miniature life boat." Begins Reaper, with a faint rumble in his throat. "But I intend to find out." Which is when Sombra supplies the requisited information. "X-23? ... Curious. Is it human or another wind-up toy?" He begins. And then Sombra switches subjects. At this point the low lights in the 'War Room' are starting to flicker back to life as the holograph dies, the entire session nearly complete in its recording. Including the input from those present. Which is when Sombra says that name. One can tell, because the steady and subtle motion of Reaper - the tapping foot, the shifting shoulders, the tilt of his mask - suddenly halt. And the voice that comes from that mask is colder than the grave from which he was booted. "...No. No one survives. Especially not -HIM-." He doesn't growl or snarl, which is probably the worse thing about it. It almost sounds -normal-, save for the dark reverberation. Which is when he starts to growl, pulling twin shotguns from ... thin air? Smoke rising from shoulders and cowl as he disintegrates once more, flowing out of the room in all directions. Vent, door, whatever cracks he can find. And the projector beeps as it finishes. WELP! Story time over? Story time over. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Oh, she's human from what I can tell. I do need to dig more to get proper info on her though..." Sombra offers with a casual shrug.     The mood in the room changes when Reaper hears that name, and even Sombra narrows her eyes before she raises her hand and begins typing in the air on the purple hexagons that appear. "He survived," is all she says as she types in some commands... and two images appear. One of Jack Morrison from when he was the commander of Overwatch. And an image from a security camera. Soldier 76, face mostly hidden, holding a large man in a suit hostage it appears. There's no denying it, the two are the same. That much Reaper should be able to tell immediately. Just as Sombra is about to start her own debrief, it appears that Reaper isn't up for more meetings. Then again, she can handly blame him for wanting to hunt down his former coworker. She blinks, then sighs and lets the screen dissolve just like how Reaper himself turns into smoke. "Well, it was useless keeping this info from him anyway." If she had hidden it, then he would have gotten pissed off at her for not telling him.     "He does this now and then, don't worry," she asides to Count Kord. "Glad you could show up." With that she rises to her feet, then pours herself the rest of the coffee and turns to head out. 

:'''{{#var:954|Count Kord (954)}} has posed:'''     Kord observes as Reaper has a Moment, the antiquated warrior following some of the mist that comes from Reaper's ability to turn incorporeal with his eyes. He rumbles thoughtfully at the sight of it, and then he's just there with Sombra in the war room. "And he seemed so guarded before," Kord observes as he turns to leave, since that sort of reaction is indicative of a very personal emotional complexity that Kord isn't entirely aware of. 
}}

5270/Beware The Blurb

2017-05-24T04:56:45Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/05/23 |Location=Sector Zero - Space |Synopsis=A ship is in trouble! And only.. every faction there is can save it! Sort of. Well, most of it...."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/05/23
|Location=Sector Zero - Space
|Synopsis=A ship is in trouble! And only.. every faction there is can save it! Sort of. Well, most of it. Okay, just the personnel. BEWARE THE BLURB.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117, 1111, 685, 930
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' CentCom; A simple name for what is effectively a floating megacity, as if someone had taken New York and rolled it into the universe's largest gun barrel. A curiously shaped world habitat, atmosphere maintained by simply building walls high enough and spinning the cylinder fast enough - with some 'skyscrapers' actually forming connecting spires, massive structures that are simply spiderwebs when viewed from the outside. This 'megacity' is its own thriving ecosystem, with its slums, its highs, its riches and its poors. You could practically snatch someone out of modern Earth and throw them in to the middle districts; Beyond some acclimation to the horizon going -up- and the sky filled with ant movement of distant vehicles, they'd feel right at home. The real high tech is for the rich, after all, including the gateways in the heavier trafficed areas. But this story isn't about the city of CentCom. Nor is it about the billions who crawl inside it's surface, like a giant York Burrito. No, this is about what is happening just beyond - a ship that burns. The NT Briar, a curious amalgation of federal power and corporate ownership, a cerebus of command structure between Research, Fleet, and civillian contractors. And for the most part it works well; Everyone sticks to their own decks and color codes, and the creaking structure moves from system to system. But this time? This time, something has gone wrong. The ship is listing, slowly falling towards CentCom. The city's big enough that they'd hardly notice the blip, but it'll still result in thousands hurt. Not to mention the crew itself, a blasting cacophony of pleading messages for help, demands for assistance, and general coordination attempts that have utterly failed. They also appear to be growing some mold along one edge. At least, it looks like mold from this distance. The rescue response is haphhazard at best, like a ship at sea listing into dock. Small three man maintenance vessels are sent spiraling upwards to try and slow the spin. Amateur glory seekers strapping on easily available public 'void suits' to go leaping into space - most of them missing and left floating until the emergency's over. They're not hurt, after all, and they've got plenty of air with High Tech Mix Compression Techniques. A few of the more 'practical' wondering if it's simply better to cut the ship into pieces and push the smaller pieces away - investment loss or not. For the Concord, there are obligatory contracts to fulfill in the Research division. Spies, intels or better that must be rescued. For the Paladins, the simple law abiding request should be enough. For the Watch? Who else is going to pay attention to the little man caught in the midst of all this? There are thousands of ways to get to the listing ship, from hitching a ride to simply donning a suit and leaping. Customizable for your convienance, for a low price of a few copper-keys and pride; The fitting tubes still have to scan your body shape, after all. Reaper, himself, is taking the shuttle option. His cowl blowing about in the driving wind of the ship's engines as it warms up, the side doors left open as he grips the side of the archway. "Sombra. Status?" He practically growls. There is a Mission to be done; It may be a rescue Mission, but it will not be a Mission of Mercy. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It's hardly the first time Sombra helps people. True, she's more about putting fools in power down a peg or two, but hey, saving people? Why not. Having people in debt to you is always a good thing too, so the hacker had chosen to go along with dear Gabe on this rescue mission. Before boarding the shuttle however, she had taken her time to hack into some terminals on the way, perhaps to Reaper's annoyance.     And as she walks to the shuttle, she's busy looking over some screens, a pensive look on her face. While she does hear Reaper's question, she doesn't respond immediately as she flips to another page on the screen... and then takes the final steps to enter the shuttle, sitting down somewhere before she turns the screen for Reaper to see.     "I've gotten the blueprints for the ship, joined all the coms the crew are on. It seems they're still working on finding the cause for the malfunction. There are dead people there already, but nobody important," she informs him. "Also, I got a manual on these shuttles. In an emergency I could override the functions... should we need to." Who knows what can happen in space. "Also, it seems that more people are joining us." 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:'''      It's amazing what people leave lying around, and how many people will ignore someone with a high vis vest and a clipboard who looks like they know what they're doing. And in this case, what Laura is doing while she's being ignored is making her way through the underbelly of the citystation, a baggy oilstained coverall hiding her figure and anything she's concealing. First order of business, find a way to the ship. She's not going to just get a skinsuit and jump, too unreliable. Hah. Here we are. Before her sits a rack of what appear to be high tech backpacks, albeit metallic. A quick browse of a manual had given her the basics, everything else she'd figure out on the way over.      After unseating the pack from its dock, she pulls it on, fastening the harness, before toggling a control on one shoulder. Metallic plates seem to telescope outward, covering her body, before another array extends over her head and seals to form a helmet, glowing blue lines on the outside lighting up as the sensor package activates. Let's see... Oxygen okay, Integrity checks positive... All systems nominal. She clomps toward the nearest exterior airlock, cycling herself through and stepping onto the outside of the construct. The stars wheel past above her as she scans the sky. Luckily she's not vulnerable to vertigo, or the sensation of hanging by the magboots on your feet while the world spins around you would have made her fill her helmet. A telltale blinks on her HUD, hilighting one particular speck of light in particular as it swims over the horizon, this one moving relative to the others. Gritting her teeth, Laura releases the magboots, the station falling away beneath her as she triggers a burst from her rig's maneuvering thrusters. Boost up to fifty meters per second, stand by for deceleration burn, execute command sequence. 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Out of a Warpgate some short hop away at sublight speed, emerges an odd sight. The IJN Shiratsuyu-class Destroyer, Shigure, a waterborne vessel, emerges from the gate iris. What's different are the engines attached and the RCS modules fitted to allow 3D movement. The vessel seems unstable as it swings around and fires the main engines to approach the rescure and recovery efforts. <<HDA Destroyer Shigure affiliate Paladins, approaching from <Coordinates:vector>, any response teams, please advise where I will be best deployed.>> she radios, voice tinny as if speaking through metal, which is is, really. The girl's body rests somewhere deep inside the metal body of her Ocean Fitout... well, really Space Fitout at this point. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The request for help went all over the place it seems, even to people not affiliated with any of the factions! Alden was trying to hitch a ride to the falling, burning ship, his suit consisting mostly on a modified helmet and air tanks, since he might need to... change his body shape in case he needed to use brute force, or shoot at something!. The digimon thanked the pilot bringing him close to the ship, his form glowing brightly in mid air, to a larger, more 'humanoid' shape as he approaches the damaged vessel, at the least, he hopes to try and help any survivors. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Reaper's sterile mask turns down towards Sombra as the woman finally makes her way onto the shuttle proper, an annoyed growl slipping out of him - before Sombra mentions what she's managed to accomplish. There is a brief and dangerous pause - before Reaper reaches a clawed hand into his trenchcoat slash coal slash duster, whatever the hell that thing is. And pulls out - an emergency facemask and void-bubble. If and when problems happen, just slap it on. Sure, it'd be like you're trying to maneuver in an inflated trash bag, but when the alternative is asphyxiation? It's even in black with sharp purple highlights. This is held silently for Sombra, while Reaper's grip on the archway slips off. "Good." He snarls. And he's always snarling. "... Find the quickest route to the R&D. That's our mission objective; Secure the Director and his team. Secondary objective is to recovery their dataload. Territary objective is to find what's threatening the ship." A pause, and another low grumble. ".. And keep the mask close." The hatchway begins closing and sealing as engines roar the life, the shuttle leaping towards the distant burning ship- The NT Briar is roughly divided into five decks. The fourth deck, or the lowest, is where normal docking, cargo, and emergency lifepods are located. Third deck is habitation, bars, holorooms, cryopods for long term sleep, and even security. Everything you need to function. Second deck is technically half as tall as the others; Sometimes called mid-deck, where there's sporadic lighting for all the engineering needs, such as powerplants. First deck for Captain's mess, officer's quarters, a rather sustainsive medical wing, and - R&D. Which has the bulk of space, a ship within a ship, a whole section designed to seal and detach on a tether in the event of emergencies to preserve the corporate employees. Why it hasn't is anyone's guess. And the bridge caps it all, holding the actual piloting, Captain's quarters, and a few larger shuttles for officer use. The 'mold' - as Laura and the rest approach - turns out to be something else entirely. It's like someone took long rotting stew of giant proportions and threw it across the front of the ship. Lumps pulse and wheeze in the darkness, flickering lights in the slimey, moldy exterior. Entire sections of the plasteel bulkhead appear to be rusting away beneath its grip. Fourth deck is nearly over-run - the life pods long since absorbed into the mass, with only a few protrusions. The occasional bit of debris floating around the ship in a nebulae as Laura approaches, and she'll have the lion's choice of where to enter. Lots of breeches, with inflatable walls snapping out of the walls to seal off every few meters. Airpumps wheezing and roaring as they try to maintain pressure. Getting through is going to be a pain. Alden is brought to the aft of the bridge, where the officer's shuttle has been torn asunder, dangling like a bird on a string. Scraps along the landing platform showing where someone had tried to fly it without decoupling it first, thus ruining the whole thing. And as the HDA Destroyer Shigure moves closer - small tendrils of the 'mold' ease away from the shadow of the larger Briar, attempting to rope her in!! The garble of communications inside - chatter of master of arms giving fire directions, scientists and medical personnel attempting triage and civilians yelling for help - becomes a cacophony of noise. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney flips, coming to 'rest' with her feet pointing toward the ship, her thrusters firing again to decelerate. The crackle of her helmet radio and the warning broadcast by the.... Boat? In space? Well, the warning gives her cause to rethink her landing zone. Better not try to go in somewhere damaged, that way lies having to fight whatever this shit is. And wihile she could probably retract the RIGsuit's gloves and use her claws for a bit, vacuum exposure still isn't /fun/. A long lateral burn takes the mutant in an arc towards the rear third of the ship, where the amber lights of an external airlock gleam in the darkness. Enter in Engineering, make your way forward. Hell, she'll even use a gun if she has to. She's got a bad feeling about this.... 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The wolf digimon grabs onto the ship, blinking at the damage that it clearly sustained, the com on his helmet filling his ears with random communications!. He mumbles, trying to climb past the devris, and into the ship proper, announcing himself, and trying to figure out just where in the ship he was!, he wishes his D-ark was able to do more than just show digimon stast and related info!. He walks down the corridor, heading to the closest of the voices asking for assistance. 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Shigure comes up along the coordinates to accept civilians being evacuated... and is suddenly lashed at with the mold tendrils. Her alert klaxons start to sound, but aren't audible in the void of space. She radios an alert to other ships to steer clear, before her hull strikes the main mold mass and her radio disconnects.     This isn't the end for the shipgirl. As her hull strikes the mold mass, it glows brightly in a blue-white hue, discorporeating back into her 'Girl' form. A basic helmet, a black body suit, and her backpack rig with the cannons. Small RCS modules dot around her feet, shoulders and waist, allowing full motion in the void, though she does seem unsteady as she disengages from the mold and moves to seek a breach to enter from.     After a few moments, her radio kicks back in. <HDA Shigure to rescue teams, I cannot accomplish evacuation mission, hostile growth makes approach impossible. Moving into NT Briar via hull breach to assist in evacuation efforts.> 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Growling is something you get used to when hanging around Mister Edgelord a majority of the time, and it always appears to have no effect on Sombra no matter the situation. It's only when he pulls out the facemask that the hacker looks towards him, all while a smile spreads across her face. "Gracias, Gabe." It's hooked onto her belt next to her translocator. This way she's bound to be able to get to it quickly, all without it getting lost nor occupying her hands, which she will need. "Hmmm.... do you still need to breathe? Or do you have a similar thing in that mask of yours?" she asks out of curiousity, tilting her head up at him as her purple locks bounce against her shoulder. "Do dead men need to breathe...?" Luckily she doesn't expect an answer, as she turns her attention back to her screen.     "There are other presences... the angry girl who regenerates is in a RIG suit on her way towards teh ship, I'm certain we can use her. A Digimon is at the ship now too. And if you missed the radio chatter, we have a girl who possesses the spirit of a ship... HD Shigure. She's not the most suitable for space, but she can function as an evacuation vessel if we can get life suits for the crew we need to evacuate. I've directed her to stay close to the ship. I should be able to override the functions of the ship there if they aren't too damaged," she informs Reaper, considering he probably wants to be in control of this mission. "Recovery of their data load is something I can do while I hack into the system, as long as I get to the right terminal."     Time to bring them in towards the ship, it seems. Sombra settles down for the ride, all while she reads up on the ship, showing Reaper the blueprints so he can see. "Judging from the communications, the fourth deck is lost due to some alien lifeform. The hull is comprimised in several areas, and the crew has no way to get off ship. Which means we will need the others in order to evacuate them all. We can't fit them all on this shuttle. Want me to focus on the upper decks, Gabe?" she asks, flicking a glance towards him. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "We don't need to fit them all; Our concern is the R&D personnel." Begins Reaper, legs spread and one arm pushed against the ceiling for stability. Only losers sit in crash seats! That sterile white mask dips for a moment, focusing on the screen as their automated pilot gets them close. When it cuts out due to warnings about localized debris field, Gabriel neatly slips into place, claws gauntlets finding familiar controls. Not too different from a VTOL, if you don't count the thousand different buttons and toggles he wasn't going to touch. "Let the rest burn." And then his head turns, the edge of his mask showin around the cowl. "... And don't call me -Gabe-." The shuttle shifts, moving towards the first deck - where there's still a landing pad, albeit damage. It is, in fact, the same one Alden may have briefly seen on approach. The pilot finishing the maneuver, hissing and clunking as local channels fill with the sound of furious battle and cowardice, in turns. Hissing filling the air as it pressurizes with the local dock, Reaper not bothering to stand - simply dissolving, his composite pieces reforming near the airlock itself. "No. There is no air in a grave." He snarls. Although, to be honest, he's not certain what would happen to him if he was lost in void; Could he even manuever as a cloud? Something to make him watch his step as the hatch begins to hiss open - to the sound of laser fire and snap military calls. One last pause as Reaper reaches down, pulling up his twin hellfire shotguns. ".. Coordinate them to the first deck. Our mission takes priority - they can be our asset." He doesn't need to translate that into 'be nice and make them help us' for Sombra. She knows how to be sneaky in wording things. Beyond the hatch? Chaos! Red lights flare, sirens wail, with a few corporate security guards mixed with masters-at-arms, peering down a maintenance hatch and firing bursts of laser fire. Others are at other hatches. The ship is longer than it is wide, with a central hallway; Sections of it closed off from emergency inflatable high-pressure walls, the maintenance ladders tucked in corners ringing with the continual sound of steps moving up and down and shouting. R&D? Main entrance is in the middle, the whole port side of the first deck save for the very fore. Alden makes his way into the third deck, squeezing himself past emergency shutters that create brief airlock pockets. Automatically cycling him and through to - chaos! The third deck was brightly tiled in white and primary colors. Now it's splattered with unknown fluids, a small knot of people fighting what appears to be very aggressive slime mold. Some trying their best to crowbar a nearby sealed door open, while what appears to be a man in blue overalls sprays purple liquid at the mold. It retreats - and begins growing towards them again. On the bottle? PLANT-B-Gone. Someone notices the wolf, and shrieks. "IT'S IN!" "Idiot! That's not mold. You! Are.. You the rescue team?!" Comes the question for Alden by desperate janitorial staff Both Kuma and Laura make the second deck, albeit from opposite sides. Laura's first vision is of a deck mostly shrouded in darkness, with ankle high knee-knockers and unadorned metal walls. The sounds of strain and groaning come from all directions, faint and distant booms. But closer by? Someone hollering for more fuel; The smell of sweat, blood - and firey smoke. As well as rot. Ages old rot, rot enough to turn the stomach, tendrils of mold working tiny tendrils through the inner structure. A faint 'FMOOPH', the distant turn corner brilliantly lit up, showing a shadow of a few engineers. Kuma's side, however, is a lot less pleasant - maintenance techs. Barely men and women, piling stuff in front of dockheads as fast as they can. All of it being rotted and dragged away by flailing tentacles of .. well.. mold. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney is glad her RIG is airtight, because from what her HUD telltales are telling her, the atmosphere in here would /not/ be pleasant to breathe. She follows the noise, breath hissing inside her helmet, the suit's sensors helpfully mapping the corridors on top of her vision in aqua-green wireframe. And then around the corner and this corridor is full of people, rushing back and forth. And what seems to be a table laden with heavily modified welding torches. This should work. She picks one up, examining the controls as she makes her way towards the front lines. Seems simple enough. Take over for some of the crew, let them get to evac. Worst comes to worst, activate the arc cutter on the suit's arm and jump outside again. 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Shigure lands on the deck, slipping inside the hull... to chaos. Her blue eyes glow faintly in the dim darkness. "Chevalier Shigure, Paladins. Where is the R&D Team?" she asks, even while moving into position to start firing HE shells to burn out the encroaching mold. She's keeping her helmet on, because even if she's more a youkai than a human, that stuff stinks.     "This deck is lost. Move to the evacuation point, get pressure suits and head out of an airlock. There are shuttles orbitting the ship that can pick you up. I'll call ahead. Move!" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The wolf wearing a breathing mask just stares at the odd... thing attacking the people in the room. He walks inside, and tries to help with the locked door, hopefully stronger than the person with the crowbar, "One of many!" he replies quickly trying to pry the door open. "What is that thing?" he ask, when he notices the mold growing back at them, turning to face it, growling, and taking off his mask to basically breathe blue flames at it!, at last, it's pretty close to flames. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "I know, I know... we only need them. But if we tell the others that, then the chances of them working with us decreases significantly," Sombra points out, staying in her seat even as Reaper moves to steer the shuttle closer to their destination. "It's better to say that we want to save them all. And if we do manage to save them all, imagine the positive light it puts Concord in. Of course, if it's impossible to save them all we stick to the original plan by just saving R&D," she adds with a carefree grin on her face. "You just focus on fighting the alien lifeform and clearing a path for the R&D as well as the other crew, and I'll get the data we want, interface with the vessel's tech to clear a safe path, and communicate with the other Elites onboard."     The response to his request for her not using the nickname for him is met with a chuckle, a sound he should know well by now.     Once they approach the landing pad Sombra gets up from her seat, flicking away the screens as she's done memorising the layout of the decks and the basics she assumes she will need. "Oh, I will use them as best as I can. Relajate, we will do this. Just don't shoot anybody important, okay?" There's a teasing tone to her voice, and she fingerwaves at Reaper before her stealth technology activates, and she hurries onto the ship after Reaper, moving quickly to the R&D department as she makes sure to avoid any mold on the way. Who knows what it will do to her tech. It's a good thing she has her submachine gun, as it can clear some areas, and with all the tech onboard on this ship it's easy to interface to make sure that doors open. Stepping into the room, Sombra looks around as she lets her invisibility fade. Several people are there in the R&D department, but... far fewer than expected. "Wh-who... who are you?" one of the men asks, looking at the colourful hacker as she moves to a nearby terminal. "I'm part of the rescue mission," she explains. "Just sit tight as I open communications with the rest. We have to make sure we get the rest of you off this death trap, no?" She raises her hand, moving her fingers as purple lines spread. There, connection established. Now to hack into the intercom system.     All onboard the ship should be able to hear it easily when the speakers come to life, carrying the voice of a woman, somewhat distorted. "This is Sombra, reporting in. Reaper and I have arrived on behalf of Concord, and we're here to help with the evacuation of the crew. HD Shigure has space to transport the majority of the crew, providing we find life suits. I request that you elites help them get near the lifepods and keep them safe from the mold. Make your way to the second and first deck. Use heat and fire if you can. If you need doors open, let me know and I will interface with the ship."     There, with that message done it's time to search for the research data... According to the tracking that the R&D crew have in their suits, it seems she will need help from the other Elites onboard to get to them. Which means that they can't tell them outright that they're only interested in saving the research crew. Hopefully there's a way that she can reroute the research crew to the shuttle she and Reaper have... 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The maintenance techs - all wearing the same Fleet jumpsuit - look aghast at Shigure as she begins laying heavy fire along the second decks. The air quickly filled with the smell of ash and brimstone as a few of the younger techs approach the shipgirl. And nervously state, though with chin held high. "T-the Captain.. hasn't given the all sound to abadon sh-ship, ma'am. Uhm, Paladin Chevalier." The others are grimly beginning to pull thin voidsuits out of emergency lockers, taking the moment of reprieve to breath deep and collect their wits. Although even as Shigure lays down bombardment - rippling tugs of air showing where breeches are quickly being sealed by the inflatable walls - there's already a fight brewing behind her. Two of the techs joining up against someone in a red and white jumpsuit. "-ing -Scientists- did this! This was our home!" "US?! You imbeciles are cooking up god knows what down in the mid-deck with your little hidden caches. Oh, don't think we don't know about it! Who knows what you dragged off the last world to try and make a 'really cool brew, duuuude.'" "SCREW YOU!" A punch. A shove. A few people yelling for order, trying to break up the fight, realign priorities. A crew dragged to the breaking point - and each third of them answers to a different boss. "Why not just use the R&D section?" "Like hell you will! That doesn't belong to Fleet. Use your own shuttles!" A few of the smarter ones? Those who don't answer to a CO but an RD? They take Shigure's advice, working their way out of the temporary airlocks and flinging themselves boldly into space. Or making their way up ringing inner-deck ladders.. Alden's fire makes a much bigger dent - and his help with the maintenance door opens it with a squeal of metal and protesting buzz of the security directives built into it. Although even as he's holding back the creeping mold, he can feel a hand on his shoulder from the botanist. Still holding a nearly depleted bottle of Plant-B-Gone. "Come on! Fire won't work long, the damn thing's adapting! We're out of ideas! You've gotta get us out of here!" And sure enough, the entire structure suddenly shudders - enough to knock anyone not braced or heavy off their feet. The tendrils of mold rippling as well, growing slower - but thicker. Slimier as they slither forward beneath literally withering fire- -Something Laura may quickly notice as the engineers grimly let her take over, making their way to third and first decks. Whichever ladder is quickest. The shuddering vibration is enough to setup ringing in her helmet, before her fire strikes - slime. It bubbles and hisses, scorching black, but it presses forward none the less, the tendrils of slime sheathed in it. Bulkheads near her begin to buckle as the pencil thin mold runners suddenly thicken, like veins pumping blood. A hand on her arm, tugging, and an engineer yelling. "You hear that? Second deck's lost! Come on, we can keep a path open near the blue space drive." Meanwhile- -"Cycle laser frequencies! It's adapted!" Comes the distant call from the first deck, which Sombra can pick up on her tap of the local comms. Hearing the sound of laser fire grow distorted, the pitch changing as the laser carbines hit the upper bound of their projection rate. One older gentleman pushing his way through the crowd of nervous researchers, adjusting his glasses as he watches Sombra with a bitter, lemon-sucking features. Before clearing his throat. And clearing it again, to try and get her attention. Finally, he coughs loudly. "You're the.. mm mm.. one sent by Concord?" He states, keeping his voice low. Meanwhile, what security cameras and alarm monitoring still functions shows a horrible mess. There are still pockets of fourth deck active, but no 'living' personnel. Power alerts all over the facility. Third deck is cut into four pieces by slime mold, each effectively isolated, while second deck is nearly over-run. First deck and the bridge seem nearly pristine by comparison - as if its focusing on the lower decks. The ship was built with multi 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' First deck and the bridge seem nearly pristine by comparison - as if its focusing on the lower decks. The ship was built with multiple routes to get from point A to point B - from ladders to stairs, even a relatively fast cargo elevator. So while there's still ways to get around, it'll involve a lot of shifting vertically and a lot of bypass routes. Secondary shuttles are scratched, emergency pods busted, even the officers shuttle shows severe damage from a faulty take off. In fact, it's literally hanging by a metal thread off the side of the Briar - its place taken by the Talon shuttle. There is a sudden roar that shudders the ship for all involved, and the slime mold halts its progress. Hardening, almost like a shell, save for where Shigure has sent her HE bombs whirling down corridors. There, at least, the mold is still mobile - if only growing back as quickly as it is burned away. WHERE is it getting this biological mass from?! 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney nods, starting to walk backwards, keeping an eye on the window in her HUD that shows the view behind her. Every seconds she lets off another burst, sending a wall of flame down the corridor to push the mold back. Looks like the ship's lost, but she can at least cover the retreat of the civilians. <<There are enough suits for everyone, correct? Rescue services should be able to pick up anyone adrift...>> 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Shigure's focus is on keeping the mold at bay while the civilians get clear... but those that step up to her earn a soft, but firm command. "This is an emergency situation, you must ensure your section is clear and protect your lives and those around you, regardless of commands from people that likely have already evacuated." she says. It's not exactly protocol, but it's at least a good interpretation. Anything to get them moving.     And then a fight breaks out behind her. The blue eyes flare with annoyance, little flames licking from the corners as she turns and... actually shouts, raising her voice to be heard over the fighting. "GET. OFF. THE. SHIP. NOW. Fight when you're not about to die." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden achieves something!, guiding the people behind him as he hears the warning, "I still got a coupel things to try, but thanks for letting me know that." he says , quickly moving to help the door close behind them, perhaps it might slow down the mold behind them!. "I.... kinda don't know the layout... but we should go to those decks, hopefully we can evacuate that way." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Trying to get a better overview of the situation, Sombra doesn't look away from the screens that she projects, one hand on the terminal while her other hand types on the hexagon keyboard that she creates mid air, her fingers moving quickly over the keys. "Hmmm, yes. I'm here to help evacuate the crew," she responds, still busy typing away. "Please don't disturb me, I'm trying to get the hang of things so I can save you and your research..." Needless prattling takes away her focus, after all. And she needs to be ready should the other Elites need her attention.     And this turns into one major mess. With large parts of the ship gone, a majority of the void suits are no longer onboard. Which means it's impossible to save them all. Oh well, it means that they will be sticking to the original plan. But it would be senseless to let the others know that, it's better to play along to keep them cooperating. That way they can lead the other researchers to safety so she and Reaper doesn't have to run all over the place. Slowly a plan forms in Sombra's head.     Laura will hear Sombra's voice over the radio. "Just barely, if we focus on the ones we /can/ save. I have found the cause of the entire mess. It appears a breach happened in R&D. I'm afraid that they are infected by the mold. You have to focus on saving the others, and we will have to isolate the researchers in a safe location."     In Shigure's location Sombra's voice can also be heard speaking. "I suggest that you focus on the civilians. Stand by for further orders."     All aboard the ship, an alarm sounds. "Contamination spreading: compromised personnel are to report to corridor 14G. All R&D personnel are suspected contaminated, please move as instructed. All other personnel, move with the Elites for first wave evacuation." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The last man standing by the escape ladder - clad in a white RIG suit with a strange gun in his hands - turns his visored head as Laura backs up to them. And then steps forward, taking the spot where she was. Unknowing that she's an elite - only that she's in a simple EVA rig with a flamethrower that's not holding back the creeping mmuck anymore. He holds the gun out, flips a setting with his thumb, and pulls the trigger; There is a WHUMP as a digital outlines fill the hallway, and a block of solid metal forms. A plug. The man with the RCD - Rapid Construction Device - steps back, hoisting it and nodding aside. "Alright. That'll hold for a few minutes. Get with the rest of the crew- .. Wait.. who are you?" He's distracted by someone calling for 'CHIEF!', turning his head to peer down a ladder work and wave his hand. "Get loose. I'll be down." And then back to Laura. "Alright, get off this deck. The whole thing's going." Already, one can hear the soft scratching as rust falls off the 'insta-wall' from the other side. The Chief Engineer walking to the other side of the hall, hefting that RCD as he calls out: "Anyone still alive in there? RUN! I'm sealing it!" Alden's group of people nod slowly, before the janitor rubs his nose. "Mm. Fourth deck's got the escape pods, mister wolf fellow guy, and it's gone. Even my cleaner grenades couldn't keep that crap off long. Plant-B-Gone works, but we don't have enough." He nods to the purple spray bottle, before pointing. "Not enough suits on this side either. There's emergency supplies in the aft, but.. that's a long walk either from second or from fourth. Don't think we can get there going straight back from here. What's, uh.." All eyes turn to Alden. "What's the plan, wolf man .. robot.. guy?" Comms are filling up again - pockets of people still trapped on third deck. Calls for order from first deck and bridge. Shigure's charisma break is enough to snap the bickering survivors out of their collapse. But the woman from Research - upon hearing that they're infected - shrieks. "No, no! We're not! She's lying, I swear! We're not infected!-" People begin peeling back from her, taking the shipgirl's advice to done void suits and jump. But - there won't be enough. Especially since no one's letting the Researcher near the cache until it's empty. Grimly, they do so orderly - the highest ranks going first, until only a handful of scared PO-1's are left. Gathering up crowbars and flashlights as they await the shipgirl's command. Except for the researcher. She's over in the corner, shunned. "Listen, I appreciate that, but shouldn't you be focu-" Begins the Director to Sombra - before she states that they're infected. His eyes widen, and his old finger is waggled. "Now, wait just a moment! I'll have you know not a single person under my supervision would ever be so careless! Our biohazard quarantines are the best in any Fleet ship contracted for us. I demand you - you -.." He trails off, his face gone white. ".. Who you.. /can/ save? Please, these are my people. You -have- to help them get off this ship! I.. I tried to detach our section, but something's jammed on the anchor points. I can't get through to second deck engineering." The slime mold holds its position for a moment - even in the brief break Shipgirl takes to yell at the stupidity of bickering survivors, they simply form their hardened wall and wait. Which is when the entire ship shudders again - gravity flickering off and on, before acceleration makes loose objects start sliding. A voice cuts onto the comms, grimly. ".. This is Captain Nil. .. Our engines have come live without my command. We're accelerating. All Fleet, abandon ship." "Um, Liasion Mud. Contractors, you are released to.. uh.. uh.. the.. the professionals.. currently trying to rescue you?" Finally, the old man taps his ear piece. "Director Nathy. All research, report to 14G - make your way as best you can." 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney gives who's obviously the Chief Engineer a nod. "I am X-23, and I am responding to your distress call. I would suggest we put all the unsuited people in a compartment with oxygen equipment, seal it, then cut it off from the rest of the ship. I can push it away with my RCS thrusters, and it can act as a temporary lifeboat. It is risky, but it is better than certain death at the hands of this mold." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden is pretty much an anthro wolf right now, more than a bit scary looking!. He seems a bit lost as he hears those explanations, "I am sure they must have a plan to help us, but at leat we can find some extra oxygen equipment or tanks might help. "I can fly, and perhaps carry a couple people, if we get to a point with some atmosphere, but I rather figure out how many we can get in a proper evacuation first." he says.      He ponders for a moment, "Afterwards... I can help destroy more of that thing, assuming freezing, or making it explode... or burning it with lasers still works." 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Shigure grits her teeth, forcing the anger and pain back down inside. She looks back at the encroaching mold, and fires a few more shells in, before she pulls a pair of torpedoes out of her thigh mounts, 'lights' them and hurls them into the middle of the mass, where they detonate. "Hopefully that slows it down a bit... get that researcher to 14G, I'll see if one of the shuttles can land on one of the upper decks." she says to the PO-1s that are left behind. "I will not let you die if I can help it. You have my oath as a Fleet Daughter. Come on." she gestures to the ladderwell leading up, then looks at the researcher. "Get going... I don't believe you're infected, but everyone else is in a blind panic... I have faith you will get out of here." she says, before making her way up behind the PO-1s. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     It's easy enough to overhear the reaction from the researchers on board the ship, and especially from the man next to her. Turning to glare at the director, Sombra narrows her eyes. "Listen to me and be quiet. You want to survive this or not? If so, then go along with my instructions, comprende? You and your fellow researchers are worth more than the other crew. Which is why we're going to save you first. I know you're not contaminated, but the others do not. If we were to tell them that we are only interested in saving you, then they would not work with us on this. My colleague will get the rest of your group up here so we can evacuate you on our shuttle. I have locked up enough life suits for you up here so that the expendable crew can't get to them. So be quiet and do as you're told," she finishes, turning back to the console.     Finally, the captain gives the order for the other researchers to comply with her suggestion. Now it's an order. A smirk crosses Sombra's features as she taps away at her keyboard. Down in the corridor, purple lines spread as doors open. "Copy, X-23. Reaper will pick them up and lead them to a fitting compartment once the researchers have gathered in 14G. For now focus on getting the others to safety, they can't fight against the mold."     "Alden, focus on keeping the mold at bay for now. You're the best suited to do that for now."     As for Shigure. "It's a risk we can't take right now. Isolationing any possible contamination is a high priority for now, otherwise we will risk all their lives."     Corridors open, leading to section 14G for the remaining researchers as they are herded towards the spot. At the same time, Sombra sends the location signal to Reaper. It should be quick for him to get them from there and up to R&D... just perfect.     "Gabe..." The signal comes to his private channel. "Pick up some suits on the way, will you? I will open them for you when you're near, make the researchers pick them up and carry them." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The digimon nods as he hears the command, and reaches for his D-Ark, "Ok, just tell me where to go and I'll do my best." he says sofly. He does accompany the group with him to the designated deck, and waits they are where he believes they might be safe, before changing into something more assault oriented, an even taller, seemingly robotic bipedal wolf machine standing where he was!, a bit of a tight fit perhaps!. "Where should I focus my attack?" he tries, surprised they have much info about him, or his abilities.      Still, he runs/hovers his way to a mold concentration, and tries opening fire!. He begins with his gatling gun and the shoulder mounted beam gun, testing what effect they might have on the invading growth, followed by a couple of small missiles down the path. He tries not to blow up the room/corridor if he can help it. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The CE works with Laura to move his crew into a section of third deck that hasn't gotten rot on it yet - and, via the RCD, seal it up with blocks of metal while stripping the retaining walls around it. A makeshift life pod, the small room layered with air tanks and masks - enough to support what's left of the engineering crew. And Laura herself, floating off into the void to await pickup. Alden's group, meanwhile, is pale face and willing to follow him where ever he asks. Although the janitor - who's been the 'voice' of the small group of civvies - raises his hand again. As if he's in class. "Uh, we, uh.. we can't survive outside atmosphere." He states, as if this wasn't quite obvious to the anthro-wolf-robot-thing. He clears his throat, as others nervously nod. "Do, uh.. do you have.. some sort of compartment or.. I don't know. Do you transform or something into an airproof closet..?" "That's a myth!" "Shut it. It -could- work. Maybe. I mean, if it's airproof you'd last a few minutes, right?" The Janitor rubs his brow, looking pointedly at a couple of nearby metal lockers. Solid steel and sealed. The researcher sobs as Shigure turns to leave her behind, shaking as she heads the other direction. On her own. YOU MONSTER! Still, the Petty Officer First Classes are relieved to have someone in charge as they follow directions. Spreading out on the first deck - just in time for an explosive shotgun shell to smash through the wall nearby. And the clinging tendril of mold stretching out along it. Reaper! The sterile bone-white mask turned towards the petty officers, and the Ship Girl, as they climb out of the slime infected heck hole - dragging a blue closet behind him, the contents rattling, his claws sunk into the metal. A hissing breath, but he's not stopping just yet to chat - leading a 'flock' of Researchers in prime white coats, who seem like they'd much, MUCH rather be with ShipGirl. "Keep your -officers- back." He growls. Around Sombra, the plan begins to line up. Researchers are being gathered and herded towards 14G, where Reaper had picked up the majority. There'll be a few lower left behind - but that's to be expected. And he's dragging an emergency oxygen closet behind him, drawing up scrapes from the metal plating as he goes. He'll be insufferable after this for a while. Other cameras show Alden, with a rather significant group of civilians on his tail. He's cut off from voidsuits on the other side of the ship, but it looks like they're discussing - something. Sound's out. The engine controls on the nacells of third and fourth deck are still swarmed with tendrils of undulating ooze, flickering lights of electricity flowing in their depths. Accelerating - towards CentCom City. The mold apparently wants to -spread its wings- a bit. Other researchers begin filing out, heading towards the shuttle that Sombra and Reaper brought. They'll be intercepted by said death obsessed man soon. But what about all the rest of the crew?! 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Shigure frowns at Reaper... but she doesn't stop him. She uses the barrel of one of her cannon tonfa to keep the PO-1s out of the way. "If you're quarantening the research staff. Why do they need space survival gear?" she asks in that soft, but projected voice of hers. It may remind Reaper of a certain Omnic monk in some ways.     Even as she speaks, she's multifeeding across radio, calling any available evac shuttle to come pick up the PO-1s in her care. She made them a promise, and she's not going to back out of it now. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     There we go... Reaper can be useful for something besides being so edgy. As the researchers follow him they are sure to pick up the suits that they will need on board the shuttle. It doesn't have enough oxygen for them all, and they will be pretty cramped in there.     With the final data gathered, Sombra steps away from the terminal, then begins heading towards the door. As she picks up Shigure's question she can't help but roll her eyes. Now what made the girl pick up on /that/? Well, she can bullshit her way out of that one.     The comms come to life near Shigure. "The risk of a breach is high, so their chances for survival are higher in that case. Not to mention the suits can help contain any possible contamination for the rescue teams that will pick them up."     With that she moves ahead, gesturing for the researchers to follow her. "Now move, amigos. We're getting off this moldy death trap, meeting up with your colleagues and flying away on the shuttle." It's easy enough to guide them along to the shuttle, she supposes. The rest of the crew is no longer their concern, the smaller research department is far more valuable.     As she spots Reaper, the hacker offers a wave. "Hola, good to see you managed to get the others. Are we ready to leave then? I have the other thing we came for." He should know that she's talking about the data. "Did the others give you any trouble?" The researchers begin putting on the suits, still wary of the two Talon agents. But they're not about to stay on the ship as it is now. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The Reaper pauses as he's addressed, and the cowled head turns. The hand not occupied with dragging the emergency closet hefting that shotgun up perpendicular to his shoulder. The voice - rasping, growling as if he were half a step from screaming - gives one little phrase. "Going down with the .. ship?" Claws open, the shotgun falling to the ground and clattering away to make his point. And then Sombra steps out with her usual 'friendly' spin on their work. Reaper growls, pulling forward again. The trip to the airlock doesn't take long - the thing quickly cycling open again, leading to the shuttle. Researchers taking a mask apiece, sealing it over their faces; no way the shuttle's air scrubbers could handle that many breathing people, forced to pack into the back. The Director as well, casting a sorrowful glance back at Shigure and the petty officers left behind. "Beyond living? No." He rasps to Sombra's question, dissolving to move through the crowd of jumpy researchers to the front of the shuttle. Waiting only long enough for Sombra to get aboard - before that door will seal itself. Here's hoping she likes crowded conditions in the back. Or planted her translocator in the co-pilot's seat. Hm. Should've thought to check before he settled in. The petty officers remain silent at Shigure's insistence, before one snaps off a salute, eyes suddenly wide. "Ma'am! The officer's shuttle! It's off the platform and can't fly, but.. it's only a few seconds exposure with a snap capture for emergency entrance." The others nod, jaws set. "We're trained for depressurization. If you can get us in fast enough, we can cycle to the internal atmosphere. It won't fly, but.. if you can give us a push..?" 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Shigure watches Reaper and Sombra go, then turns back to the Petty Officers. "Alright, I can probably get it moving using my 3D movement thrusters. Lets get moving." she says, gesturing for the one who spoke up to lead the way. "I made an oath, and I will keep it, even if I sink in doing so."     The group arrive at the officer shuttle dock. The craft showing pretty bad damage to the engines, but a still intact hull compartment. "You're right, it won't fly... but it still looks intact... how many can fit through the airlock at once?"     After being informed, she says. "I'll take each group, then come back for the next. Cycle the airlock when I'm on the way back. We are going to make it." 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The Petty Officers nod grimly, and - one by one - enter the airlock. It's neat and orderly, as expected of any navy officer; Even one in space. They crouch, expel out until their lungs hurt, then close their eyes as Shigure leads them blindly through a void. They'll hurt - decompression sickness sucks - but it's only a few seconds exposure. Joint ache, nothing serious. And after the first, there's one available to help the next. Quick and snap too. 

:'''{{#var:685|Kuma (685)}} has posed:'''     Shigure lets the last one cycle into the airlock, then begins pushing the shuttle away from the main ship, using her RCS thrusters. As she gets up to speed, and the accellerating NT Briar begins to recede. She rotates her torpedo tubes at the retreating shape, using her radar to plan the spread, and letting loose with all eight of her tubes, aiming to smash the engines and disrupt the trajectory of the craft. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The hacker isn't slow to board the shuttle, so Reaper doesn't have to worry about that nor any translocator usage right now. Slipping past their passengers, Sombra gets into the co pilot seat as she settles next to Reaper, smiling for herself as she leans back, slouching as she pulls one leg up to get comfy. "You need to relax, Gabe. We did well, no? I say we grab a drink when we get back," she says, reaching out to boop Reaper on the nose as he gets the shuttle going. "We managed to save the researchers, the Concord will approve, and we've had some fun. So that's a big plus. Now we just get them safe and let the others deal with the expendables."     All in all a successful mission, considering they suffered no injuries, got the important people who are now packed in the back of the shuttle wearing their lifesuits to save on oxygen. Speaking of which... Sombra puts on the facemask Reaper gave her earlier, just in case. But it's clear that she looks rather pleased with how this mission went, and that the others fell for her ruse. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "The strongest drink turns to ash on my lips." Growls 'Gabriel', as his clawed gauntlets neatly flip the switches to put power to the engines. Pulling it up and away from the vessel, his sterile white mask reflecting the running lights and the occasional shimmer of debris. Perhaps -thats- the reason Reaper's so pissed off all the time? No pulque. No whiskey. Nothing but an endless expanse of void as his body tears itself apart and is rebuilt in a cycle of unstoppable agony. That, or he's just a bitch. ".. And my name is -Reaper-." They reach the point where the auto-pilot can take in - just as the Shigure's weapons fire hit something critical. The infected ship lighting up like a candle before it shatters. As if it were glass, and someone just hit with a hammer. Well. That'll take care of the mold. 
}}

Malaguena

2017-05-19T17:23:51Z

MiserEnoch:

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2017/05/19
|Location=Reaper's Quarters
|Synopsis=What's Left?
|Cast of Characters=1115
}}
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUHDOd4PQWE Theme Song - El Toro, 'Malaguena' ]

The heavy metal door slamming behind him had a sense of finality about it that usually pleased Reaper; But not today. Today, something else was on his mind. Clawed gauntlets twitch as he reaches up to press the button on the jaw of his mask; Hissing in pain as the screws whined, pulling the anchors up. A pop of air equalizing, his growling voice losing its reverberation as the mask was pulled away.

The fresh air on his face was agonizing. He'd been wearing the mask for so long he'd almost forgotten, but as the raw nerves - or whatever it was that seemed to etch electric lines down his face - came back to life, he was quickly reminded. Still, pain wasn't new - it was all he had left to hold him to this world. The white mask clattering as he lightly tossed it into his metal desk, threads of smoke still clinging to where the screws had been removed from his forehead. He didn't bleed anymore - not for long, anyways.

The figure stands there for a moment, watching the mask, matching it's empty gaze. He didn't have a mirror anymore; Smashed that to pieces a long time ago. A sudden flurry of activity, ripping off metal greaves and shedding light tactical armor as if it burned him; Pitching pieces into the walls hard enough to raise dust off the solid structure. Shedding black smoke as he draws in deep breaths of air, letting his lung sour and score with each shuddering fill.

Slowly, he calms. Settles himself upon the edge of his bed, sliding his own hands over the top of his head; Shudders in revulsion at the texture, before letting his arms drop to his thighs. Slumping forward, eyes on the pieces of his attire scattered about the room. Reaper's armor. And that glaring mask.

Hands find the old Spanish guitar before he can think about it - grip tight enough that the neck creaks. Old wood, cat-gut strings, someone even went to the trouble of gluing two slanted pieces of wood in the twin F-holes to make it look like an angry guitar.
He forgot who. If he was a museo, he might have been upset. As it was, he barely noticed it anymore. As long as it worked.
He settled back, a growl of annoyance as his back touched the wall. What passed for fingers plucked at the strings; It hurt, of course. Even if they weren't steel cable, he never did get the right callouses for playing. His callouses were always in the wrong places. Shut down the world. Let his fingers work. Just like the shotguns; '''''pluck, curl and squeeze.'''''

He drifted back fifteen years, to Oslo. Laughter with the only man on the the team who could beat him in an arm wrestling contest - besides Jack. The Crusaders were a breed to themselves, too focused on 'honor and glory' to do the dirty deeds, preferring to walk into the line of fire than risk losing. But they were powerful, and the last push against the Omnics was coming. One last time, onto the breech. One last push to subdue the God Program, one last time to lose friends, one last time to shed blood and save the human race. They were so damn close to finishing this. Five years of taking Earth from an extinction level event to a historic victory. Five years of broken promises and letting cities burn for a chance to strike behind the lines and do some real damage. Five years of running that organization into the ground for just this moment. All he had to do was scratch the Crusaders back, and they'd scratch his. This giant of a man was proof that they, at least, still kept their promises - even if Gabe didn't.

That his soldiers - his comrades, his friends - could still joke showed just how broken the world had been. Jack was right, he lost too many. Ana was right, he pushed too hard. But they had a world to save - at any cost.

'''''Fingers pick up the pace. A low growl.'''''

"-damn posters, Jack." A fist slammed into the table hard enough to dent it. "This is a drug cartel, -not- a world wide threat. What the hell are we doing intervening in Mexico? I don't even speak Spanish!"

"What are you talking about, Gabe? Your last name is ''Reyes''."

"I was born in San Angeles, you pundejo m-" Gabe choked off his last word, nearly biting his tongue off in the effort. Jack was his superior now - and he was on duty. And he was just given an order. Ana's hand on his shoulder helped; She was always the cool head between the three of them. "Fine. I'll learn. I'll get fluent, even. But tell me this; What the hell are we doing chasing this?"

"The Federales are stretched thin, and they're compromised. The Presidente's asked for us, Petras wants us there, so we're going; End of discussion." Jack's hard jaw melted, briefly, into what he probably thought was a charming smile. "Besides, aren't you always the one harping on doing what's necessary, not what's nice?"

Gabe resisted the urge to slug his superior commander, before - with a shock - he let the anger drop. When the hell did he become bitter about -Jack-? JACK. The man had his back so long the rhyming joke had gone stale and stopped being funny. Gabe snorted and nodded, crossing his arms again. "...I'll start loading Blackwatch assets in the area, see what we can turn-"

'''''The strings are humming along, knuckles starting to ache, but the pain is ignored. Just like combat drills; Let it flow until you were nothing but a series of call and response. No time to think, just pull and move.'''''

"-still not authorized to operate in England."

"You can't be serious." Ana sighs, putting her hand to her forehead

Gabe's brief though is whether it's another migraine - and whether she deserves this one. Karma's a bitch. "Sounds like the brits have the situation under control." he quipped, pushing out of his seat. Screw it, and screw the suspension - he already had a few pieces on the board. Can't let talent go to waste.

"Ever the hero, Gabriel." Ana retorted sharply, taking the verbal knife fight on behalf of Jack. She'd been doing that a lot more lately. When the hell did she start taking his side too?

"I'm not the one with the statue."

'''''Faster now.'''''

"-doesn't have to end this way!"

"It always did.. ''Amigo''."

''''PWANG''''

Reaper's eyes flew open, watching the deep cut where the string had snipped across the back of his hand. Watching the black smoke rise as his quote unquote blood dissolved, the sight causing a bitter bile forming in.. was it even a throat anymore? With a growl he threw the Spanish guitar aside as well, stalking in his room like a caged animal. Sleep would never come. Hunger never left. What was left?

'''".. Time to reap."'''

Malaguena

2017-05-19T17:15:55Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Cutscene Header |Date of Scene=2017/05/19 |Location=Reaper's Quarters |Synopsis=What's Left? |Cast of Characters=1115 }} Theme Song - El Toro, 'Malaguena' -- https://www.you..."

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2017/05/19
|Location=Reaper's Quarters
|Synopsis=What's Left?
|Cast of Characters=1115
}}
Theme Song - El Toro, 'Malaguena' -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUHDOd4PQWE

The heavy metal door slamming behind him had a sense of finality about it that usually pleased Reaper; But not today. Today, something else was on his mind. Clawed gauntlets twitch as he reaches up to press the button on the jaw of his mask; Hissing in pain as the screws whined, pulling the anchors up. A pop of air equalizing, his growling voice losing its reverberation as the mask was pulled away.
The fresh air on his face was agonizing. He'd been wearing the mask for so long he'd almost forgotten, but as the raw nerves - or whatever it was that seemed to etch electric lines down his face - came back to life, he was quickly reminded. Still, pain wasn't new - it was all he had left to hold him to this world. The white mask clattering as he lightly tossed it into his metal desk, threads of smoke still clinging to where the screws had been removed from his forehead. He didn't bleed anymore - not for long, anyways. The figure stands there for a moment, watching the mask, matching it's empty gaze. He didn't have a mirror anymore; Smashed that to pieces a long time ago. Still, the figure suddenly begins a flurry of activity, ripping off metal greaves and shedding light tactical armor as if it burned him; Pitching pieces into the walls hard enough to raise dust off the solid structure. Shedding black smoke as he draws in deep breaths of air, letting his lung sour and score with each shuddering fill.
Slowly, he calms. Settles himself upon the edge of his bed, sliding his own hands over the top of his head; Shudders in revulsion at the texture, before letting his arms drop to his thighs. Slumping forward, eyes on the pieces of his attire scattered about the room. Reaper's armor. And that glaring mask.
Hands find the old Spanish guitar before he can think about it - grip tight enough that the neck creaks. Old wood, cat-gut strings, someone even went to the trouble of gluing two slanted pieces of wood in the twin F-holes to make it look like an angry guitar.
He forgot who. If he was a museo, he might have been upset. As it was, he barely noticed it anymore. As long as it worked.
He settled back, a growl of annoyance as his back touched the wall. What passed for fingers plucked at the strings; It hurt, of course. Even if they weren't steel cable, he never did get the right callouses for playing. His callouses were always in the wrong places. Shut down the world. Let his fingers work. Just like the shotguns; pluck, curl and squeeze.

He drifted back fifteen years, to Oslo. Laughter with the only man on the the team who could beat him in an arm wrestling contest - besides Jack. The Crusaders were a breed to themselves, too focused on 'honor and glory' to do the dirty deeds, preferring to walk into the line of fire than risk losing. But they were powerful, and the last push against the Omnics was coming. One last time, onto the breech. One last push to subdue the God Program, one last time to lose friends, one last time to shed blood and save the human race. They were so damn close to finishing this. Five years of taking Earth from an extinction level event to a historic victory. Five years of broken promises and letting cities burn for a chance to strike behind the lines and do some real damage. Five years of running that organization into the ground for just this moment. All he had to do was scratch the Crusaders back, and they'd scratch his. This giant of a man was proof that they, at least, still kept their promises - even if Gabe didn't.
That his soldiers - his comrades, his friends - could still joke showed just how broken the world had been. Jack was right, he lost too many. Ana was right, he pushed too hard. But they had a world to save - at any cost.

Fingers pick up the pace. A low growl.

"-damn posters, Jack." A fist slammed into the table hard enough to dent it. "This is a drug cartel, -not- a world wide threat. What the hell are we doing intervening in Mexico? I don't even speak Spanish!"
"What are you talking about, Gabe? Your last name is -Reyes-."
"I was born in San Angeles, you pundejo m-" Gabe choked off his last word, nearly biting his tongue off in the effort. Jack was his superior now - and he was on duty. And he was just given an order. Ana's hand on his shoulder helped; She was always the cool head between the three of them. "Fine. I'll learn. I'll get fluent, even. But tell me this; What the hell are we doing chasing this?"
"The Federales are stretched thin, and they're compromised. The Presidente's asked for us, Petras wants us there, so we're going; End of discussion." Jack's hard jaw melted, briefly, into what he probably thought was a charming smile. "Besides, aren't you always the one harping on doing what's necessary, not what's nice?"
Gabe resisted the urge to slug his superior commander, before - with a shock - he let the anger drop. When the hell did he become bitter about -Jack-? JACK. The man had his back so long the rhyming joke had gone stale and stopped being funny. Gabe snorted and nodded, crossing his arms again. "...I'll start loading Blackwatch assets in the area, see what we can turn-"

The strings are humming along, knuckles starting to ache, but the pain is ignored. Just like combat drills; Let it flow until you were nothing but a series of call and response. No time to think, just pull and move.

"-still not authorized to operate in England."
"You can't be serious." Ana sighs, putting her hand to her forehead
Gabe's brief though is whether it's another migraine - and whether she deserves this one. Karma's a bitch. "Sounds like the brits have the situation under control." he quipped, pushing out of his seat. Screw it, and screw the suspension - he already had a few pieces on the board. Can't let talent go to waste.
"Ever the hero, Gabriel." Ana retorted sharply, taking the verbal knife fight on behalf of Jack. She'd been doing that a lot more lately. When the hell did she start taking his side too?

"I'm not the one with the statue."

Faster now.

"-doesn't have to end this way!"
"It always did.. Amigo."

PWANG
Reaper's eyes flew open, watching the deep cut where the string had snipped across the back of his hand. Watching the black smoke rise as his quote unquote blood dissolved, the sight causing a bitter bile forming in.. was it even a throat anymore? With a growl he threw the spanish guitar aside as well, stalking in his room like a caged animal. Sleep would never come. Hunger never left. What was left?

".. Time to reap."

5258/The Ghosts of The Past

2017-05-13T01:39:44Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/05/12 |Location=The Tapestry |Synopsis=Null Sector is an infamous time in King's Row history, where the Omnics tried to take a piece of the UK..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/05/12
|Location=The Tapestry
|Synopsis=Null Sector is an infamous time in King's Row history, where the Omnics tried to take a piece of the UK for their very own. Whether because they were tired of being disciminated about - or because something worse was happening. But that was nearly a decade ago, and the world has long since rebuilt from the scars of that brief struggle.

But something has been found, buried deep in the heart of King's Row. And as clandestine interest grows, Talon sends two of its best on a retrieval mission, to deny anyone else the opportunity.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1112, 1117, 1111, 1002, 1116, 1110, 673, 1010, 1007, 1114
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' King's Row, UK - The World of Overwatch. This middle-upper class neighborhood seems to have a contemporary quaintness all its own, with fine sweeping architecture that combines traditional brittish masonry with modern holographic convienances - such as the four faced holographic clock that views the entire area, from the maze-like alleyways to the proud theatres and open faced pubs, the narrow streets that wind majestically through it. But beneath the surface is a pit of abomination; For here is the entrance to the Underworld, where the Omnic slave slash labor force is shoved, segregated by signs that state 'No Omnics Allowed' and otherwise treated as an unwanted guest. And who could blame them, after both the Omnic Crisis and the uprising of the Null Sector barely a decade old? It is at the entrance of the Underworld - an old powerplant that breaks the decor with its industrial appearance, leading to lower levels, barely walk-in closets for the thousands of Omnics living there - that some activity has begun. Police lights and sirens blare through the night, breaking the suburb's tense peace with glaring sign of 'Authority Out In Force'. Surrounding the entrance to the powerplant itself, from which officers and specialists come and go in rapid hurry. Omnics are occasionally dragged out, shoved outside the circle of tape as their 'home' is raided. For what? Who knows. OCcasionally, larger equipment is moved slowly within on treads. And a large, heavily armored 'van' as one might expect to move large sums of money. Meanwhile, a neighborhood away, the small landed flier clicks as it cools in the nighair. And there, at the edge, stands REAPER! Cowled hood fluttering in the cool british air, a shotgun resting on his shoulder as he watches the distant lights. And growls, his voice low and reverberating. "Sombra.. where is your contact? We're running behind." 

:'''{{#var:1112|Gaige (1112)}} has posed:''' And the night was torn by... laughter. Loud, girly laughter. A moment later gaige would appear, walking out from the shadows, pointing at Reaper. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Reaper, right? Oh, it's perfect. I KNEW it! I bloody called it! Ah man, ah, this is rich. No, no, really, you're beautiful, hon. Hee hee. I knew a goth like you back in like, eighth grade. He was cute. Got shoved in lockers a lot but... anyway. Oh, I got you two gifts!" And then tossed them two little packages. Inside Sombra's, a (slightly blood covered) HUD unit. Inside Reaper's... black eye shadow, and a 'my skin has been hacked' CD. Ah, perfect. She held out her hand and then licked her lips as a sniper rifle formed in her hands. "So, like, you just need a distraction, right? I got the tools for the job. This'll be easy. Don't forget to keep your end of the bargain up, okay hon?" she said, before giving a wink to Sombra and then... "Seriously, Reaper, hon. You could totally add more spikes to your clothes. Maybe tattoo death on your arm or something. Put some spikes on the gloves. Oh, dude, paint on some devil horns on the skeletor mask you got going on there." Oh, today was going to be a -delight- for Reaper. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "She'll be here, Gabe." His fellow agent is less gloomy as she steps forward, her purple hair swaying in the night wind and with every step she takes as she makes her way to the edge of the building. "You just go do your thing, comprendido? Drag them away so I can make my way inside without running into too many of them. You're the one with the shot guns, after all..."     The laughter does catch her attention, and the hacker appears amused as she glances at the other girl, snatching the package. "You heard the girl. You two distract, and I'll extract. Luego!" With that the hacker shimmers as her invisibility sets in, leaving the two behind to attack the guards around the powerplant. It's so much easier when you have a guy on your team who tends to draw all the attention, that makes it so much easier to sneak inside for her. Still hidden, the Talon agent quickly makes her way towards the nearby powerplant, then tosses her translocator up over the wall... and within moments she finds herself up and inside. There are several guards here however, and not easily dealt with... There's no way she can deal with this alone. Which she doesn't have to, since she has two people outside who are willing distractions as long as they get to have some fun.     Within a minute Sombra has managed to find herself a quiet corner with an interactive screen. Slowly the invisibility falls away as she reappears, reaching out to touch her glove to the screen... and she begins typing away , interfacing...     Outside, Reaper and Gaige ought to be ready, as the alarms are sounding, and some guards begin filing out from the power plant. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:'''      It'd taken Laura a bit of time to prepare after she'd heard the sudden spike in radio chatter on the frequencies Genji had mentioned. This was going to be her first actual 'mission' that wasn't either in the middle of nowhere, or on some anarchic shithole of a planet where nobody cared who you were. This was the UK, a higher tech version than she'd known, and Great Britain was covered in CCTV. As such... She'd changed things up a bit with regards to her costume. She'd added a half mask that covered the lower half of her face (Winter Soldier style), and a pair of goggles hide her eyes. That should stop any face recognition software, although there probably aren't a lot of girls running around with adamantium claws. Either way, she's ready to kick some ass.      In this world of hovercars and bikes, her 'old school' kawasaki was probably drawing a decent amount of looks as she made her way through the streets, turning into an alley a few blocks away from the cordoned off area and killing the engine. Rooftops are only about five stories up... Dumpster, AC unit, Fire Escape, Roof. Perfect. The mutant teen sprints across the rooftops, hair trailing out behind her as she heads towards the police line. She should be able to get a good Overwatch (heh) position from up here. And then the alarms go off. She picks up the pace, leaping over alleys as she heads for the sounds of battle. 

:'''{{#var:1002|War Witch (1002)}} has posed:'''     In the early days of Paragon City, the area known as Kings Row was a shiny, bustling place filled with hope and promise. Factories manufacturing goods and generating power created a feeling of strong, blue-collar values. At that time, the area was called Kings Row because of one of the most productive factories to set up shop there: King Garment Works.     Unfortunately, the prosperity didn't last long. When the Depression hit Paragon City, no area was affected more. Factories shut down, many workers were laid off, and a great deal of the crime sweeping through the city was centered in the row of closed-down factories. The crime bosses who set themselves up there took on the name of the zone. They became known throughout the city as The Kings.     For a time, Kings Row became a place to avoid. It was dark, dirty, and struck fear into the hearts of upright Paragon citizens. When Statesman began his "war on crime" and formed the Freedom Phalanx, he focused a great deal of his efforts on bringing down the Kings. Eventually, the Freedom Phalanx triumphed over the Kings, but the cost was high. There was some damage to the physical area, but of greater effect was the long-term damage done to the reputation of Kings Row. Even after the economy recovered, the stigma of Kings Row remained. The Kings are long gone but the name has remained and, to this day, the area is regarded as a grimy place with a reputation for seediness.     EXCEPT WAIT WRONG KINGS ROW FROM THE WRONG SUPER HERO FRANCHISE.     When War Witch heard that there was some sort of trouble in 'Kings Row' she headed for the one in Paragon City. And kept hunting around for the right mission door--that is, trouble spot, and asking local law enforcement to no avail. Eventually, she tracked down the source of the transmission and went 'oh, geez'.     So, a trip through a few warp gates later, and a certain sorceress with black-and-green hair is huffing and puffing after running around so much, even as she continues running to where it seems a bunch of... Robots are being displaced. Darn it, she didn't have the time to look up much information about this place before responding. It's in the UK, there are robots, and they need a lady in leather to come shoot magic and maybe evacuate people or something.     SHE'S A PROFESSIONAL HERO, DAMMIT, STEP OFF.     "I'm so glad... I do that Fitness training... With Apex...!" she gasps. Yay for endurance-enhancing power pools. Doesn't mean she doesn't have to take a moment to lean against a wall with one hand and catch her breath as she observes the situation. That pain in her side's pretty killer. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' A clawed hand snaps out to catch the 'package', and the sterile bone-mask turns towards Gaige for a moment. There is a moment of contemplative silence, practically a scream in Reaper-language, when that mask turns towards Sombra now. And he just stares, gaze hidden, gauntlets creaking as they tighten on the hilt of his shotgun. The other squeezes the package until the contents crack, black eyeliner rolling down his wrist until he flicks it off. ".. Just stick to the -mission-. And you'll get what you were promised." He practically growls at Gaige, before Sombra disappears. He draws himself up, pulling another shotgun from beneath his jacket-cowl-thing, elbows held at right angles. And then - just for Gaige's benefit - he growls a trademark line. "The darkness, consumes..~" Yeah. Spoopy, Gabe. Either way, his form suddenly begins to dissolve, like a beach sculpture beneath crashing waves. Black smoke pouring downwards to the line of tape, as alarms blare and security goes on alert. And then the night is shattered by more than just blaring alarms from the powerplant - it's broken by the sudden explosive noise of a shotgun going off, and people yelling in surprise. 

:'''{{#var:1112|Gaige (1112)}} has posed:''' Gaige was one of the most wanted people in the world(totally through no fault of her own. Totally). On top of that, probably one of the most recognizable. So she didn't even wear a mask. She just went out, a grin on her face as she walked to the edge of the roof and... held out her robot hand. CRAWWWWWWWWWLING INNNNNN MY SKIIIIIIIN! That's right. Deathtrap, the goth edition, had arrived. Blaring linkin park music, COVERED in spikes. And black leather. AND IT HAD SKELETON FACE PAINT ON! Oh COME ON! She then chucked a grenade. It separated into FOUR MORE GRENADES, blowing a hole in the nearby fencing. "oooooops~" she said casually, before drawing out her sniper rifle and taking shots. It shot electrical bursts, stunning and dropping the security as, hopefully, the smarter ones decided to GTFO. Those that didn't? Well, death trap had his own laser and spikey claws. She might feel a ltitle bad about killing people who didn't know better, but if they didn't flee, it was basically suicide. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney skids to a stop on the last building before the cordon, quickly scanning the area. A distinctive crack draws her eye to a few buildings over, where Gaige has set up. Snipers are a force multiplier. First order of business: Eliminate or disable the sniper. Her hand claws slide out, the music and gunfire covering any noise they might have made as she begins her run-up, leaping onto Gaige's roof and coming at her from the flank, claws flashing in the moonlight. Her blow isn't aimed at the vault hunter however, just her rifle. 

:'''{{#var:1116|Tsunade Senju (1116)}} has posed:''' A gust of wind follows two ninja who arrive on scene, moving like lightning from one space to the next. Their forms move so quickly that they seem to blur in and out of view, a skill that fortunately adds to their stealth upon entry. One of them is wearing a jacket, a green haori, with the Japanese symbol for GAMBLE clearly written on its back. She wears a grey kimono blouse and knee-length pants, today, just as any other days. Close behind her is a woman dressed in a typical Konoha jounin jacket and gender neutral black shirt and pants. They arrive in the city among the chaos coming from the power plant. The ninja wearing a haori peers over her shoulder. "Shizune," she says, her voice rough and lower than the other's, "Let's get a better view." The two ninja seem to follow suit to Laura Kinney's idea and begin scaling up the buildings to get a rooftop view. "Tch," the older ninja says, "This looks troublesome." Shizune frowns, crossing her arms. "Tsunade-sama, this...is so much. I don't even--What?" They both gasp as suddenly, shots from the air down below from one of Gaige's guns! Clearly this security breach needed to get under control. And they were wasting time. "I don't know what's going on, Shizune. But they called for help. We have to go in. Now! Go and support the security down below. I'm going to go toward this power plant!" Shizune grimaced. "Be careful, Tsunade-sama!" Forget stealth. Tsunade was running straight forward. Preventing death was the most important medical law, brought from Konoha to the Multiverse with the fist of Tsunade Senju. And she would be glad to provide an introduction!" 

:'''{{#var:1110|Chevalier (1110)}} has posed:'''     Standing by on escort duty. Though this world isn't an ally to the Commonwealth due to its stance on sentient machines, overtures have been made in both directions. There's hope this world might join, might come around. As a show of support, and in part due to some of the stuff happening recently in this world and making people expect that something's up, Chevalier's been sent to show his colors.     PR is one of his duties, and the large armored man takes such things seriously. At least when he's in the public eye he takes it seriously. On patrol around the power plant, he marches next to a moderate-sized police vehicle. The patrol car has a spotlight out, and it's not only lighting up the area so Chevalier can see, it's lighting up the gleaming gold and silver of Chevalier himself as well.     When he hears shots and explosions, the armored warrior breaks into a sprint. He can move pretty well in that armor, and he's loud too, clanking his way down the streets toward the fuss.     What he sees there almost stops him cold. "Great. Edgy tinker." he mutters to himself. Hey, it's goth music and a mecha unit with super-edgy decorations. It's an easy assumption to make! But it's attacking the security, so he doesn't stop for long. Chevalier breaks into a sprint, his sword arcing high and then coming down before he even gets into melee range. Not that he needs to be in melee range. In an instant the sword grows to some thirty feet long, a massive slab of metal, that he uses to intercept weaponry. Claws, lasers, grenades, whatever he can get to. Sure he could just bring the sword down on the construct's head... but that'd be less sure than saving some of the security people's lives right now. Lives come first. Destroying bad-taste constructs can wait a moment or two. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' A shaft of light briefly spears through the sky then is gone, leaving one white-garbed bluenette and a handful of silvery frisbee-sized disks on a building's rooftop near the conflict. At the same time, the entire region of the city ends up subjected to a barely-detectable pulse across the electromagnetic spectrum...     Rory White, standing on the building, shows no emotion as a map of the city's topography is rapidly generated, information from local public services correlated and assimilated through her multitude of support AIs. At the same time, her Muse scours the UK's internet news and rapidly digests relevant points. Omnics are treated like shit here, so that raid going on in the streets below is highly suspect.     The silver saucers slowly spread out in all directions to maintain her 'eye in the sky', linked via tight-beam wireless radios. At the same time...     At the same time, she begins scanning the local radio signals and applying measures to try and decipher any encryption. She wants to know what the police are doing and WHY. Most especially she wants to know just WHO called for help. 

:'''{{#var:1002|War Witch (1002)}} has posed:'''     When gun fire starts up and smoke grenade guy starts ghosting around, War Witch does not hesitate to ask, just tossing out a quick inquiry for information on the Paladins tactical channel and then charging Reaper. A beam of ice streaks through the air, possibly inches from the mad man's face. A warning shot despite that he is clearly engaged in lethal attacks against the local law enforcement.     "Time to knock it off before you get put on ice!" the sorceress calls out. Oh geez, another ice-punner. That's sure to improve Reaper's mood.     Also, she is muttering into her radio something under her breath about 'back up'. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Oh GOD     WHoever is blasting that music has -terrible taste-.     Stomping through the streets, trying to not crush civvies and policemen alike as he goes -towards- the chaos, the towering Knight blasts his speakers as he tries to announce his arrival.     "CITIZENS, DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY!" He bellows, before he strides towards the power plant, hailing the attackers over broadband as he jogs. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Aaaand here comes the cavalry. In her quiet corner Sombra watches her screens, her gloved hand still resting on the interface as she's connected to the security system of the power plant. All in all, no challenge at all. Even Volskaya industries proved to be a bigger challenge. For a few minutes, at least. With a flick of her fingers she brings up more screens in front of her as they hover in the air, showing the various defenders. Two... ninjas? A lady, an armoured man... and oh, an Overwatch member. How strange, considering she expected more of them. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that this is drawing attention. The right kind of attention. A smirk crosses Sombra's lips, and she lets go of the screen as she moves the hand infront of her again, activating her invisibility.     "Incoming forces," she states over the radio to her two allies. I'm setting up something while I head to the target."     The outside forces might notice something from the power plant however... as several turrets come online and begin firing, trying to cut them off. The quicker targets might have an easier time evading it, but the slower moving targets, like Reinhardt and Chevalier? Better think fast. Because those turrets aren't stopping anytime soon. 

:'''{{#var:1116|Tsunade Senju (1116)}} has posed:''' As Tsunade rolls into the action, she realized very quickly that she needed to add to the support to the civilians and police, quick. Just her and Shizune there as additional medics wasn't going to cut it. But she knew who might be able to help her. Tsunade reaches up a hand to her mouth and bites a piece of skin from her thumb, letting blood ooze up to the surface. She quickly writes a seal on her other palm before slamming her hand down into the ground, "Summoning Jutsu!" In a giant poof of smoke -- which probably only added ot the confusion, unfortunately -- a giant white slug with a blue stripe on its back appeared in the midst of the city. Gun shots seemed to pierce through its soft, slimy body, and all too suddenly, the slug's body dispersed into hundreds of small versions of itself. Its soft voice called out, "Tsunade-sama, what are your orders?" Tsunade reached her hand and let one of the small clones slither up to her shoulder. Everybody wants a pet slug, yo. "Just make sure everyone is okay. Make sure the civilians here are alright, and let's try to help this city's police force the best way we can." She looks behind her at where Reinhardt's speakers blurred out. "Mmm...Help with the evacuation, too, if you can?" The slug nods the best a slug can. "Yes, of course!" Tsunade pulls back for the time being, focusing her chakra to give to Katsuyu while keeping an eye on when the direct attack would come. But for now, she's going to make sure this city lives to tell this tale. Meanwhile, SOFT-SPOKEN SLUGS EVERYWHERE. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' ory's scan -will- pick up a short line encrypted channel - something coming from WITHIN the powerplant to the ones causing trouble AT the powerplant. Two (three?) targets firing on the police. But there's something wrong about the layout. For people going for a kill, they aren't focusing down. A running battle, leaping back and forth in the midst of the cordone, while civilians scream and evacuate. It's all very loud and -distracting-, of course, with comms channel jammed with panicing police, incoming Paladins, and so forth. Reaper has a lot of tools at his disposal; Playing distraction isn't usually his forte, but if it gets the job done? Then it gets the job done. It's a running battle, because even someone like he can't stand up to sustained firepower. The black smoke whirling this way and that, forming for a moment before dissipating again. The twin hellfire shotguns throwing a few of the police aside, body armor shredded - and while wounded, there doesn't appear to be any dead. Just yet. Although it does cause a lot of panic, the Omnics who'd been dragged out of the Underworld and the specattors screaming and running. Choas and distraction at its finest. Not to mention there's a deathbot apparently running around screaming Linkin park lyrics and otherwise being a walking mockery of yours truly. Reaper's going to have -words- with Sombra and Gaige after this. Loud words, at four rounds apiece. When he's got the cops making good on their cover, the death dealing duel-wielder jerks back as an ice beam grazes his from post-wraith. He growls in pain, turning his head, the smoke rolling off of him as if the man were evaporating - reforming again, atop a police car, on the -other- side of the cordone from War Witch. Getting himself enough space to be briefly dramatic. The biggest, baddest target of them all. He throws both shotguns aside, letting them clatter to the ground. A slow, dark laughter rolls away from him, as if someone had took a Big Bad Villain Trope list and wrote it on the inside of his memory. "Flesh decays.." He begins ".. Machines rust. And mortal? I -kill-." And then? REINHARDT. Reaper squats down, his knees on either side, clawed gauntlets resting on his thighs for a moment. And then he says something directly to that giant armored knight. "Clock's ticking, -old man-.. You'd better get the lead out." And then Sombra's turrets start going off. Reaper's laughter - so familiar, if slowed down - as he pulls two MORE shotguns from his coat thing. Two spread rounds BOOMING as he fires at War Witch. Too far away to do any real damage, but it sure is showy! 

:'''{{#var:1112|Gaige (1112)}} has posed:''' Gaige took a shot, a shot, a-- Her eyes widened and, about a split second before the girl was on her, she turned. She yelped and rolled, her shield flashing up to deflect the claws at the last moment and she tried to get out of range and, more importantly, PULL HER GUN AWAY! "Shit! I-I mean, crud! Watch it, what do you think you're doing?!" she yelled, the gun disappearing to be replaced by a shotgun. She cocked the gun and then... froze. "What? Werewolf? What are YOU doing here?!" Yeah, on her back, gun out, not firing, probably not the BEST position in the world to be FREEZING in. Her gun disappeared... wait, was she giving up? And then a grenade formed in her hand. "Sorry!" And chucked it at the girl before making a dash to jump off the roof. As the grenade sailed through the air, it split into FOUR grenades. Ah poo. Down on the ground floor, there was no more sniping, but Deathtrap was STILL making a mess of things, attacking security and basically just wrecking stuff. And then suddenly there's a Chevalier. The claws connect with the sword and there is a split second, before the flying robot begins assaulting him, striking out with its claws. After the third strike, the laser on its shoulder would come alive, trying to shock the man. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney glares at Gaige, although the goggles and mask render her face expressionless. "Stopping you from hurting innocents." Aaaaand again with grenades. That makes twice this week. SERIOUSLY getting old now. Laura manages to slice off the fuse assemblies of two of the micronades, and kick the third one skywards where it detonates harmlessly, but the fourth one goes off only about fifteen feet from her. The mutant teen ducks down briefly, pulling her mask aside to spit some blood onto the rooftop before replacing it and murmuring into her headset. That's the sniper out of the way. Now then... Auto turrets. Taking a few steps back to get a good run-up she leaps again, using a police van as a steppingstone as she charges the closest turret. Time to give the scrap metal industry a kick in the pants and see how Adamantium compares to Overwatch universe armor alloys. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Reinhardt storms into the plant with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, bringing up his shield to protect from the hacked turrets as his armor deflects any incoming fire. Bullets ricochet and bounce from plates and energy fields, the shield fizzling every so often with every impact as the knight storms down the hall.     Of course, as he advances, he spies a shadowy, ghostly figure with a bony mask similar to an owl of sorts. The coat, the guns, the attitude, all that exudes cocky menace of someone who -relishes- his wickedness.     And then the figure speaks.     Reinhardt's heart skips a beat, to the point his vitals actually reflect as such for a moment before the HUD resets itself, and his eyes widen. "It cannot be...my god..." He mutters.     FIFTEEN YEARS AGO     OSLO, NORWAY.     The Omnic drones didn't stop, they never did. Amari and Morrison had been frantically covering the rest of the team from up high while Reinhardt and Reyes were on the forefront of combat, McCree and Genji providing interference as they protected Torbjorn and the other engineers. "Clock's ticking, old man!" Reyes barked, letting one of his shotguns hang off the sling while he reloaded the other, sprinting full on to cover the left flank.     "I'm not that old yet, I don't need a reminder of the stakes we face here!" Reinhardt snapped back, flinging a group of Bastions back several feet with his hammer. "I could say the same thing about you, since you spent more time reloading than you do shooting! Perhaps McCree was right about using more than one gun in battle!" He actually laughed, as if the situation wasn't too dire for jokes.     Reyes just smirked, before going back to firing upon an Omnic that came more than a bit too close. "Don't let him hear you, gramps. I'll never hear the end of it if he does! FRAG OUT!" He flung a handful of micro-grenades, clearing out the path as they forged onwards.     BACK TO NOW     Reinhardt stares at the figure for a moment longer, before his engines kick in, and he charges Reaper at high speed, hammer brandished. Whoever this guy claims to be, he's not getting much of a laugh out of Reinhardt. 

:'''{{#var:1110|Chevalier (1110)}} has posed:'''     It's funny Gaige should mention bringing a sword to a gunfight. It wouldn't be the first time Chevalier's heard that line. Probably won't be the last. But he didn't bring a sword to a gunfight... he brought a cannonblade. It's all good.     As defensive turrets open fire, Chevalier points his own weapon at the Deathtrap. It's not just a gun he brought to this fight. With a blast of flame and an earthshaking roar, the cannon's muzzle spits out death in the form of a high-caliber shell.     It might not be too hard for the robot to dodge the attack. Chevalier's under attack not only from it but from defensive turrets as well. He doesn't seem hugely bothered by them, but they do distract him and when they strike his armor he's rocked by the impacts. They're strong hits too. Not even his armor will hold against them for long, not if he lets them continue to pound away.     His blade is a bit too long for this sort of close-in fighting, so he shrinks it to about half it's length. Still it's a long weapon, and he wields it seemingly effortlessly despite its size and apparent weight. He's not an easy target either. It'd be easy to assume someone with a massive weight of armor would be slow. He's not. He leaps about with the speed and grace of an athlete trying to keep turrets from getting a clean shot at him. At the same time he's wielding the massive cannonblade like it's little more than a baseball bat, aiming swats at Deathtrap that, if they land, carry all the impact of the full-size weapon. 

:'''{{#var:1002|War Witch (1002)}} has posed:'''     Apparently Reinhardt and Spooky Scary Skeleton Man have a history. Or so War Witch gathers from a combination of interaction and radio discussion. She'd been hoping to get the latter to settle down before she had to get too rough, but that doesn't seem likely. So she decides to settle for making him stay STILL instead. Because dammit, she doesn't have a Travel Power yet, and running back and forth like the victim in a game of keep-away after all the running she's already done isn't on her list of things she wants to do.     Another thing on her list she doesn't want to do is get shot with shotguns. She tries to leap aside, despie the range the attack is launched at meaning it proooobably won't be lethal, but she still gets tagged with the rounds anyway. And even a graze from a super-shotgun hurts, let me tell you.     She raises a hand dramatically, gritting her teeth as blood runs from a reddened gouge on her cheek, and says, "I'm sure you two have a lot of catching up to do. So why don't you just hang out for a bit and CHILL!" Oh no! More ice puns!     And yet what comes at Reaper next isn't ice magic. It's a ring of fire that springs up around him from the roof of the police car. Maybe that will hold him in place long enough for her to actually run back over there. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     With most of the guards outside dealing with the threat posed by the Elites, it's far easier to handle things inside for the notorious hacker. Stealth here, run down a hall, gun down the guards from behind, open and shut doors, lock them behind, all while she keeps an eye on the conditions outside. And soon enough she gets to her destination as she reaches one of the many offices. With a few quick steps Sombra is at the computer terminal, resting her hand on it as purple lines and hexagons overtake it, turning it on as the screen comes to life. "Now let's see..." she muses, narrowing her eyes as the information dances across the holo screen. After some seconds Sombra blinks... and then chuckles. "Well, there we go."     Outside Laura gets to prove that adamantium is indeed stronger than whatever the turret is made of, the metal torn apart by her claws. There are more turrets to deal with however, and they are now aiming at Laura as well considering she drew their attention somehow. It's still unclear, as they aren't being manned, and there's the smell of blood coming from within the facility. Blood and gunfire. The remaining turrets are still fireing at Reinhardt however, turning their focus away from Chevalier to focus on Laura and the incoming Overwatch soldier. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney owowow. Just because you have a healing factor doesn't make bullets hurt any less when they hit you. And these ones are big heavy ones. Ripping her claws out of the now dead turret, she dives for cover behind a Police armored car, a spray of blood spattering across its side as one round tears across the back of her thigh. Damnit, these were new pants too. She /seriously/ needs to get a bulletproof costume. Peering up into the vehicle's cab, visible through its open door, she gets an idea... A quick slash of her claws and a screech of tearing metal, and she's got herself an improvised shield. No Reinhardt, but it'll do. Using the door as cover, she dashes from vehicle to vehicle, trying to get in underneath the turret's arc of fire. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The hellfire shotguns blast off twice more, before - FIRE! FIRE EVERYWHERE! Reaper jerks back, crying out in pain - and yet, his voice remains that reverberating, dark tone. It's like he can't help but be as moody as possible. But before he can even move off, it's the REIN TRAIN. HONK HONK. The car that Reaper is standing atop of is crunched, the Lord of Edge himself tossed spinning through the air by the hit. Landing with a CRUNCH against the powerplant wall, where he grips his broken ribs and growls in pain. Is it over? Was that IT? A clawed hand grabs hold of an injured cop nearby, who's trying to get out of the way. And something.. happens. The man begins screaming, his voice going hoarse as his skin thins and hair whitens. As if he'd aged fifty years in a day. Reaper laughs darkly, standing tall once more. "More! MORE! I still hunger!" And then he pulls -MORE- shotguns out of his jacket. Really? These begin to boom and kick, his hands jerking up with each strike as he aims between War Witch and Reinhardt. Although at the sound of a turret getting shredded, he spares Laura a look - for her door shield - and levels a blast at her as well. BOOM. "None of you are leaving this place." He growls, getting into his 'bad guy' headspace. Before yelling at Gaige. "Take cover!" 

:'''{{#var:1007|Genji Shimada (1007)}} has posed:'''     It's kind of a sad state of affairs, for a sector of London to be so violence-prone that turrets have to be installed. But such is life in King's Row, and unfortunately for a fellow Overwatch member, that means that there are turrets in inconvenient places. Places that guarantee that sooner or later, if nobody's watching his back (and maybe even if somebody is), Reinhardt Wilhelm may take some shots that will make life difficult for him. And that just won't do.     As one particular turret turns to track the towering Crusader, it very suddenly sprouts a ninja-to from its top.     Wait, no, the ninja-to came down from above. And it brought a cybernetic shinobi with it.     As the blade drives itself into the turret, Genji's weight comes down on the blade, crouched impossibly perfectly on the weapon's handle. Without skipping a beat, however, he shifts his weight forward, leaning to 'fall' off the weapon such that his hands grab the turret's barrel, and he can lower himself, upside-down, to peer into the dying weapon's camera lens.     "Yo."     Then he kicks the blade /out/ of the turret's top, flips down onto the street, and reaches up to catch the short sword as it falls. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney staggers back as the blast rips into her side, the buckshot almost but not quite making her lose her footing. Screw it, she's as close to the wall as she's going to get now. She hurls the door at the edgelord like a discus, teeth gritted behind her mask as the pellets clatter onto the pavement. Other upside of black leather: It doesn't show bloodstains. This time instead of going for the main turret chassis, she just puts a notch into the barrel before charging after the door. Nobody shoots her and gets away with it. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' Well THIS is an interesting find. After reporting what she's found to her allies over Paladin bands, Rory directs her Saucers to float over towards the powerplant. The four quickly circle it and begin scanning it aggressively, trying to map out its floors to whatever depth her invasive electromagnetic pinging can reach.     Especially any heat sources. Which is probably not going to be too useful if the power planet's functioning, that'll blind a whole section of it...     But she can hope something useful comes up. 

:'''{{#var:1112|Gaige (1112)}} has posed:''' Gaige realizes a bit too late. Oh, she just jumped off a roof. WELL THEN! GOOD JOB, GO TEAM! "Shit sh-- I-I mean crud! GAHHHH!" Flail, then... boom. She hit the ground. Feet first. Fortunately, the shield dampened most of it. Most. Of it. She crashed down and laid there a moment. The electrical shards of her shield bursting out. "Ow," she said with a whimper. REALLLLLY needed to work on those-- wait, take cover? ACK! She jumped up and then raced behind one of the turrets, letting it take the brunt of whatever is coming. BOOM! The cannon goes off and... takes out death traps left arm. The robot fizzles a bit, sizzling in the air, sparks flying off as it seems to be down? The broken off parts seem to disappear in a flash of white light. But then the robot goes back on the assault, its claws whirling about in a frenzied cycle of blades. And then more lasers shooting out at poor Chevalier. Gaige hides behind the turret, letting her shields regen before she gets back out there. 

:'''{{#var:1002|War Witch (1002)}} has posed:'''     War Witch has seen (and been subject to) life draining effects before. That doesn't make it less horrifying to watch, but it does mean she can identify it when it happens. Though usually it isn't so incredibly drastic that it visibly ages the target. She begins to wonder if she's really qualified to face someone this powerful. He seems to be capable of sustaining physical injury, but is simultaneously ghost-like and also vampiric. Ugh, she needs to brush up on her undead studies it seems. But it's weird. She can't sense any magic being used.     ...She really hopes this isn't another case like with those robo-zombies, where it just LOOKS undead and is actually science. But then she has other concerns because the restored Reaper shoots her in the chest and her outfit is not exactly heavy on torso armor. She is hurled back by the blast, since she was much closer this time, being glad for what little reinforcement her costume has, but recognizing broken ribs and a lot of blood pouring down her front. She's going to have to use some pretty extensive directed meditation after this. Assuming she survives it.     While she has faced many dangers, and put her life on the line each time, she has never felt quite so outmatched, out of her element, and close to death. And yet even so, that simply makes her Defiance grow even stronger.     She uses her emotions to fuel her magic, brings both hands together, and unleashes a cone shaped blast of freezing magic, that coats everything in its path in a wave of ice about six inches thick. And she almost-belatedly warns Reinhardt, "Stay out of the way!"     Is this enough to catch the wraith-like figure by surprise? Or will he once again just wisp away, or use someone else to fuel his recovery? 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     The car door might not be as sturdy as the armour that Reinhardt has to protect him, but it's indeed better than nothing! As the bullets tear into it the metal does protect Laura as she makes her way from vehicle to vehicle, and it makes it easier to move unharmed.     Yet, the fire is lessened as another Overwatch member arrives on the scene, and cold steel sees to it that there's one less turret on the powerplant wall to fire rapid rounds upon the defenders.     Inside the powerplant, Sombra arches an eyebrow as she peers at the video feed screen. "Huh." Well, not that she didn't expect another Overwatch member to show up at this rate. At the same time there's other intrusions that the powerplant camera feeds warn her about, the four saucers that begin scanning the area. She better move... and soon. Within seconds the hacker finishes her scanning, and with that Sombra turns and begins rushing down the hallway out of the area, bringing her hand down in front of her face as she activates her cloaking once more. This leaves her time to reload her submachine gun, and hopefully she can slip out undetected. Regular cameras won't show it, but her heat signature is there, clear as the day to Rory as Sombra runs down towards the exit.     "Gaige, Reaper... I have what we came for, I'm travelling to your location. Be aware, another Overwatch member has arrived. Get ready to move on out!" she warns the others on their closed radio signal. 

:'''{{#var:1116|Tsunade Senju (1116)}} has posed:''' Tsunade, for the last several minutes, had been posted out under the cover a building that was some way away from the danger -- allowing her to take an observer's role to the meat of the action. She saw many things from her viewpoint, including when the majority of action came to a central point at the power plant. And then of course, when Reaper used some sort of ability to drain the lifeforce out of a person. /This/ in particular, ticked her off. She released her chakra transfer for the time being and began to leap into the fray of battle. The ninja came in like a bullet -- her chakra-reinforced speed making her appear and disappear to the human eye. Bullets came for her, some of them grazing past her arm and shoulder, but she still came forward as if nothing had touched her. She certainly wasn't as fast as other ninja from her world...Some envious thoughts of the Raikage and Kakashi came to mind, but she certainly made her village proud. But either way, she made a direct attack on the turrets and technology that defended the power plant. Her eyes were on the body that Reaper left behind. If she could get closer to that body, she might be able to help that person. Any one or thing that blocked her from reaching that destination would be pummeled. She was reaching back with her fist, jaw clenched, "Get the hell out of my way! All of you!" Good luck trying to escape through /that/, you little brats. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Buckshot hammers against Reinhardt's armor, leaving him in pain as he endures the torrent of firepower sent his way. Grunting, he swings his hammer at Reaper while he tries to suck a poor cop dry. Unfortunately he's too late, and winds up stopping short of smashing the poor old fellow into paste.     He grunts, before he grabs the old fellow and turns, letting his back handle the shotgun blasts before he urges the cop to get the hell out of here, bringing his shield back up. "GO, I will cover you!" He calls out, hoping the cop's still ambulatory...or alive for that matter. He can't keep this up for long, especially with the torrents opening fire on him like this as well. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "You look like you've seen a ghost, old soul. You never did have the strength to do what was necessary.." Reaper's voice sounds darkly amused as he slips away from the drained cop - leaving Tsundae free to save the man's life. Which, considering how advanced Multiverse medicine is, shouldn't be too -horribly- difficult. The man's been drained - life force drawn right out, cellular degragation, however you want to put it. Something vital has been stolen. Black smoke continues to rise from the Reaper as Genji catches his attention. And he speaks, darkly. "You've lost your edge, Genji - now... get ready to join your -ancestors-." He's forced to jerk back as a door goes whizzing by. Caught off guard by Laura's strength as he turns both shotguns on her, point blank. His laughter echoing as he pulls both triggers- Just in time for a blast of ICE CONE to catch him, his growl cut off as the vaporous ice crawls across his form. Freezing him in place, belly neatly exposed for Wolverkit! .. If she can get back up from a dual gutload of buckshot. At least he's drawing a hell of a lot of aggro? But that black mist is still writhing about, as alive as the frozen monster himself. What does it mean?! 

:'''{{#var:1007|Genji Shimada (1007)}} has posed:'''     A turret is down. But there are many more to take care of. Genji begins to do what Genji does best - running, mobile offense. Shuriken deploy to his hand, and his hand snaps out, flinging and tossing again and again - he's looking to bring down as many of those turrets as he can.     It's pure chance that the very first turret he throws a trio of stars at, is the turret Gaige happens to be behind.     He still has a talent for working his mouth and fighting at the same time, however; that green visor tilts slightly when his name is spoken. "I didn't lose it. You have clearly stolen it all. That is entirely too much for one man." 

:'''{{#var:1110|Chevalier (1110)}} has posed:'''     Poor Chevalier indeed. He's not terribly phased by being attacked by a whirling scree of metal. The golden warrior just hides behind his sword, growing it to its monstrous full size. It's wider than he is across the shoulders, and his shoulders aren't exactly scrawny either.     Not that Death Scrap, or whatever it's name is, is entirely ineffective. It's just that it takes an awful lot of damage to do serious harm to eight tons of tempered steel. Likely the robot's claws will be worn away before more than superficial damage is done to the giant blade.     Chevalier's parting shot at the robot, simply done, is to swing down with the flat of the blade. He aims to crush the robot under eight tons of metal, then go looking for someone to arrest. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney staggers again, bending double and coughing, dark liquid dropping fron the vent holes in her mask. That... That /REALLY/ hurt. And the spray of red across the car behind her indicates that this REALLY hurt. But she raises her head again, glaring up through her goggles ath the spectre. She takes one halting step forward, than two, pellets starting to drop to her feet as her flesh knits back together. She speaks as she draws both arms back, claws gleaming wetly, coated with her own blood, hydraulic fluid, and whatever else she'd been cutting. "That's the *cough* thing about heroes. We never die when you want us to." And with that she lunges forward, both fists flashing out in what would be a disemboweling strike if someone coudln't turn into smoke. 

:'''{{#var:1112|Gaige (1112)}} has posed:''' Gaige was hiding, was doing a good job of it. Yup, nothing to see here, her shields were-- "OW!" she called out as... "WHO THE HELL THREW A SHURIKEN AT ME?! WHY WOULD SOMEONE HAVE SHURIKENS!" Then cringed. "I mean, who the heck!" What? Her daddy would be totally disappointed in her for using such language. She held out her hand and... MACHINE GUN! Oh, this was gonna be fun. She started laying down fire at... ALL THE THINGS! Except, this wasn't just normal bullets. These were slag bullets. They kind of exploded into a purple ooze and didn't do too much damage. And death trap was SMASHED! The robot was crushed, sending sparks and other things, before disappearing to be digistructed later. She cursed a little. BAD! TIMING! It'd take a bit for it to recharge as it was. And she didn't have a bit of time, either. Her focus was on Chevalier and Genji and she shot at them with the purple, weird bullets. Once they were covered(assuming it worked) she switched to an assault rifle, launching covering fire. As it hit things, two things! One, that purple stuff? It didn't hurt much. What it DID do, was make what she's shooting now hurt a HECK of a lot more. Two? SHE WAS SHOOTING BULLETS MADE OF ACID! 

:'''{{#var:1114|Mei-Ling Zhou (1114)}} has posed:''' Overwatch -was- the world's most powerful emergency response force, and old habits die hard. Mei-Ling Zhou is on her way to assist with the crisis in London, having to call in a few favours and duck a few roadblocks in order to approach the King's Row neighborhood. She sticks to the brick-walled alleys and tries to stay out of sight, as much as a girl in a PARKA in the middle of London can stay out of sight. 

:'''{{#var:1002|War Witch (1002)}} has posed:'''     Wait, did it work? War Witch eyes the frozen Reaper skeptically. There's still that weird black mist... Then Tsunade is charging in and War Witch MOVES OUT OF THE WAY for multiple reasons. Sure, she took a shotgun to the chest, but she isn't bleeding out YET. Just sort of kind of. Meanwhile, drained guy needs help immediately if he's going to live.     So she'll just have to hope that claw lady and hammer bro can take care of finishing the job, and that the others are handling his henchservants.     She feels cold as well. Both from her brush with death, and from the blood loss. And maybe the back blast from her icy attack. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     One by one the turrets fall, unable to stand up to the abuse unleashed by the ninja, whether it be shuriken or empowered punches. Up above Reinhardt, something glimmers a bit as it's... thrown through the air?     Behind the aged German however, something flickers as a woman appears from nowhere, her arm extended towards Reinhardt's back as her fingers move rapidly, her eyes set on Reinhardt as she works... and within seconds, the result should be clear as his suit and hammer lose their more advanced functions, and the shield? Good luck getting that up for now.     Without warning, just as quickly as she appeared, the woman disappears into thin air, with simply one word. "Adiós."     Further down the street, Sombra reappears above her thrown translocator, all before she once again turns on her invisibility, grinning to herself. Considering the circumstances, well... she can say that it went as planned for the most part. And best of all, she got what they needed. Transmissions is complete. Mission accomplished. 

:'''{{#var:1116|Tsunade Senju (1116)}} has posed:''' Tsunade gets into a more focused set of mind, ignoring the absolute insanity behind her as she begins treating the aged man. Multiverse medicine? Who needs that? Tsunade scans the injury for a few moments and then at once a blue energy begins to surround her right hand. She lays it upon the policeman's face. It doesn't seem to do much at first. She bites her lip, quickly changing her strategy. This time, she honed the energy to transfer directly to the man's cells and heart. After a few seconds, the withering features of the man begin to disappear and he slowly regains some aspects of his youth. She looks over her shoulder and smirks. "I'm surrounded by amateurs~" She shook her head and then ensured the rest of his life energy flow was normalized. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Reinhardt is too distracted by the arrival of Genji, as well as dealing with Reaper as he feels more fire hit his armor where it counts. It definitely hurts enough he'll be bruising after this, for all the good it does keeping him safe and alive under fire.     Of course, he's unaware when Sombra's thermoptic camouflage flickers, and he looks only too late as he spies that flicker briefly, unsure who or what it could be before Sombra disappears. And immediately after that, his shield does the same. "SCHEISSE!" Reinhardt isn't normally one to swear, but this is definitely a stressful day...and to say the least, errors have been made today.     He's vulnerable, and catches a shotgun blast to the chest as he charges Reaper again, his hammer's engines sparking as he begins to swing downwards upon the mercenary ghost. 

:'''{{#var:1007|Genji Shimada (1007)}} has posed:'''     Splat splat splat- "Gh!" What in the...?!     Genji skids to a stop, taking strange, seemingly non-dangerous fire from Gaige. "I the hell threw a shuriken at you? I am a ninja. It is what I do." He sounds more confused than anything. "What-" Oh shit acid!     Genji is clipped by one acid shot, and it quickly starts eating into his leg where there's a splatter of purple goop from a previous bullet. Oh, that's dangerous. That's very dangerous. "You are entirely too cute to be firing acid bullets!" The shinobi does a quick lunge out of the way, and then waits for Gaige to correct her aim-     "I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to take these back until you are older!"     And then his arm begins to move with impossible speed and precision, becoming a blur of green motion and gleaming steel. The acid bullets reach this wall of short-sword, and, somehow, begin turning right back around - somehow, he's hitting them just right to completely invert their momentum and send them back at Gaige. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Reaper's head jerks a modicum - still encased in ice - when Laura sinks her claws up to his backbone. Blood - no, something else. Black ichor stains the ice around her claws, just as Reinhardt swings his hammer and sends the black form once more crashing into a nearby police car. Jerking him off Laura's claws, which leaves a neat black-blood splatter all the way along his flight arc. It's only lucky Rein's hammer was having some rocket trouble, or that would've been the end. As it is, Reaper's metal gauntlets scrape as they pull him forth. He's leaning heavily on the crumpled metal, and for a moment it looks like he's done for. Under armor shredded, and not a gun in his hands. And then the slow wisps of black smoke begin to spin. Focusing in on him. The injured cops cry out - and begin withering like the one Grandma Ninja just healed. The 'blood' evaporating from claws and ground and car. Even the old shotguns beginning to evaporate. And then he pulls out TWO MORE SHOTGUNS WHAT THE F- Insert dark laughter as he straightens. And then begins rapidly dissolving and reappearing - in the exact same location? But each time he flickers in and out, he's got a shotgun barrel pointed in a different direction. The rattling boom of fire becomes a meaningless rapid drone as he seems to spin in the center of his own black storm. "DIE! DIE! DIE!" Death Blossom! 

:'''{{#var:1110|Chevalier (1110)}} has posed:'''     Ever since getting lasered through his stomach by an assassin, Chevalier's hated lasers. Lasers wielded by villains at least. It's never been a question of fear though, just hate. Acid though, that's another story. It's not the first time he's been attacked by powerful acid either, but the stuff tends to be a lot nastier in his experience than even lasers are.     He staggers away, driven more by the fumes from the acid etching away at his plate than by any actual damage. He may be fast on his feet for a big guy in armor, but he's not fast on his feet compared to a teenager running in fear. Or retreating from the scene of the crime as it were. He'd shoot at her, but of course he doesn't have deadly force authorization. He can't even use a LITTLE bullet. Another criminal will get away, it seems. Shit.     Moving somewhat roughly, Chevalier heads to the last known location of Tsunade. He doesn't exactly need healing, though if he stays in the acid fumes too long he might... but he doesn't want to have to replace too much of his armor suit tonight. Best to get some neutralizer on it ASAP, if it's at all convenient. 

:'''{{#var:1114|Mei-Ling Zhou (1114)}} has posed:''' It's easy to spot Reinhardt's massive Crusader armor even in the middle of a firefight. Mei takes a confident stride towards the statuesque German warrior.. Only to see him befall some sort of disabling effect. "Shoot, where did she go!?" Mei snaps, and she spots a strange glimmer down the street as Sombra re-appears and seems to be trying to escape. "Leaving so soon? Why don't you stop and CHILL?" Sombra is quick to activate her invisibility, but Mei doesn't need to see what she's shooting at to start hosing down the area with her frosty endothermic blaster. Icy chilling vapour sprays thirsty feet from her pistol, fanning it back and forth to try to catch the slippery stealthed Sombra in a blast of ice. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Oh god this was a mistake.     Everything about today has been a huge mistake on Reinhardt's part. He's pretty much been nothing but distracted today as he's been hacked, mentally shellshocked, and also shot at ALL DAY. Especially the hacking, that's the worst part. Pain he can deal with, not some clever script kiddie who's got their hooks in his armor's systems. He can barely run Windows, how is he supposed to fight back against a hacking attempt like this?     He narrowly lands the hit, before he feels the hammer embed itself into the pavement, and suddenly, the Death Blossom happens.     This is definitely a new one, as Reinhardt feels a -torrent- of buckshot hit him over and over, some shots even penetrating the plates and striking him directly as he tries to free himself. He does, but he's knocked back and bleeding out several holes in his armor now. This is not going well for him. "Grrr...don't think I'm done yet!" he bellows, as his hammer unleashes a fire blast Reaper's way while forcing himself to ignore the pain.     He can collapse in a heap later, when there aren't lives at stake. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney allows herself a momentary feeling of satisfaction as the edgelord sags on her claws before getting knocked into next week. But then... shit. He can teleport. And randomly too, with no real pattern. Pretty much impossible to hit, and nearly impossible to dodge. And when it comes to 'nearly impossible', Laura's luck's clearly run out after the abuse it'd taken so far tonight. The fringe of a blast catches her in the side of her head, and the mutant teen goes down like a puppet with its strings cut. She'll be fine. Just give her about five minutes. 

:'''{{#var:1112|Gaige (1112)}} has posed:''' Gaige was having a grand old time. Then... "Wait, really? That's sweet, you aren't half bad looking yourself, sweetie!" she said, giving him a wink. "Sorry about this, though. Just don't die, okay?" And then... OH shit. She screamed and stumbled back, lifting her arms up. FORTUNATELY her shield was good at repulsing acid damage. It managed to ,for the most part, just drip off her. Still, a little got on her gun and she squeaked. "Y-you hurt my loot!" she yelled, moments before it disappeared. Then... BULLETS EVERYWHERE! Well, that helped. It gave her some time to RUN FOR HER LIFE! Which meant BACK TO THE ROOF! And hey, she was spry, running up the wall a bit, jumping up, grabbing the edge of a window with her robot arm. Welp, still got a few floors to go. She turned, back against the window and... "Sorry, cuties~" Then blew a kiss before TOSSING HER LAST FOUR GRENADES! WHICH TURNED INTO 16 GRENADES TO RAIN DOWN AROUND GENJI! Before she started hoofing it up the wall, using her own natural agility, robot arm and sheer bad assedness to make her way quickly up the wall, a lot faster than would have been expected. Yup, it was time to GTFO of here! 

:'''{{#var:1116|Tsunade Senju (1116)}} has posed:''' Tsunade seems so proud of her accomplishment with the one policeman, that when Reaper unleashes Death Blossom, the look of pure hatred on her face could have killed the man right there. He was lucky she was in full on damage control mode at this point, particularly with Katsuyu still on the battlefield as well. When Chevalier approached, the kunoichi offered him the Katsuyu clone on her shoulder. The slug began to creep up onto the armor and essentially absorbing the acid on him. She began to glow as blue chakra surrounded her, allowing her some ability to treat localized wounds. Tsunade chuckled, "Acid can be troublesome, soldier. Be careful out there. Let Katsuyu take care of the acid. It's her natural element. If you need anything else... Looks like I'll be nearby." She GLARES at where Reaper was. She was definitely going to be working to counter this awful technique soon! 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Just as she is about to head down an alley and away from the scene, a chill literally runs up Sombra's spine, making her gasp and shiver. The cold stings as it digs into her skin, her clothes not offering much protection against the cryogenic attack. The invisibility drops away, revealing the hacker where she's stumbling away, eyes set on Mei before she throws something further ahead and out of line of sight from the Overwatch agents... and then blinks out of existence once more. 

:'''{{#var:1007|Genji Shimada (1007)}} has posed:'''     That's when Genji finds himself pinned between a hail of grenades and a hurricane of murder. The shinobi reflexively shifts to back away from Reaper's assault, understanding on pure instinct that it's not a good idea to be anywhere near him right then - but that just results in Gaige hurling down a rain of personal-scale explosives instead. "Tch-!" He lunges, as hard and fast as he can-     The green glow of his superhuman agility kicks in just as one of the cluster grenades goes off near him.     The result is that a cybernetic shinobi goes hurtling across the asphalt, carrying all that momentum but maintaining precisely zero control of it as the explosion knocks him into a tumble. By the time he's able to turn it into a somersault and come up to his feet, there's no way he's catching Gaige, and he's taken a nasty blast injury to his left side besides.     So for the moment, he just stops to assess the situation. Especially the one with Reaper. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Reaper's flickering form finally stabilizes, both arms stretched wide. And, just to push the point, two more shotguns hit the ground with a loud clatter. Even with all the noise and booms going off, it's a lot quieter than shotguns being fired as if they were miniguns. In every direction at once. Leaving potholes, smashed windows, buckled metal and all sorts of damage. Reaper has just enough time to take a deep, satisfied breath through his mask- When FLAMING DEATH splits him with the force of a thousand suns! Well, the force of a single pissed off Reinhardt, which is pretty close. He's thrown back once more, striking the edge of the police vehicle - and splitting across it? Pieces of him dissolving into a black smoke, like some strange sort of censoring. Wisps of smoke whipping away, leaving only his guns behind. And all the shots he fired. Oh, wait. The guns are dissolving too. Reyes, Command Reyes, was never able to do -that- before. 

:'''{{#var:1111|Laura Kinney (1111)}} has posed:''' Laura Kinney suddenly jerks upright with a gasp, panting for breath as she looks around, evaluating her surroundings, before one hand goes up to the side of her head. There's drying blood in her hair, but... "Shit." No sign of the hostiles. Meanwhile... She's a teenage girl with metal claws, and if the sirens in the distance are any indication, EMS are on their way. She shouldn't be here. Time to get back to her bike, and get back to the warpgate. Before awkward questions start. 

:'''{{#var:1114|Mei-Ling Zhou (1114)}} has posed:''' Mei-Ling Zhou looks Sombra right in the eye, a glance full of mixed feelings- animosity, puzzlement. There's no time to raise her gun again and freeze the hacker in place before Sombra teleports again, and Mei has no wy to track the hacker or enhance her speed to chase her down. Mei's attention goes back to Reinhardt, who is still standing but clearly not in good shape. The parka-clad girl hustles over to Reinhardt, "Wilhelm," She pants, "Sorry I'm late~ Let me help." She says, offering to help prop up the gigantic German. 

:'''{{#var:1010|Reinhardt Wilhelm (1010)}} has posed:'''     Just as Reyes-Reaper, disappears, Reinhardt drops to a knee. He breathes heavily, like a ragged breathed lion wounded by a hunt. Oh boy, he's not gonna have a good time later.     He looks down at the diminutive scientist in the parka, tilting his head before he recognizes her. "Dr. Zhou, I presume?" He's read SOME of her work, mostly just curiosities over his travels. "Thank you. You came at the best time." He nods to her, before he tries to take Mei's hand without crushing it, standing up. "We should go and see to the civilians, there were many who were not so lucky."     God, he REALLY misses Angela now. 

:'''{{#var:1114|Mei-Ling Zhou (1114)}} has posed:''' Mei-Ling Zhou blusters a bit at Reinhardt's presumption. "No, nobody calls me "doctor", it's just Mei!" She does her best to help steady Reinhardt, she's not exactly super strong but she doesn't have bullet holes in her chest today, either. "I miss when we used to have Overwatch disaster relief and clean-up crews. The local authourities will have to bear the brunt of taking care of this mess." 

:'''{{#var:1007|Genji Shimada (1007)}} has posed:'''     "Professor Zhou!" comes Genji's voice from that-a-way. "It has been too long. How are you?" 
}}

5254/On The EDGE Of A New Era. Get It

2017-05-11T18:37:11Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2017/05/11 |Location=Sector Zero - Space |Synopsis=Reaper and Sombra discuss the merger, and how to best take advantage. Also: Everything can be BO..."

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|Date of Scene=2017/05/11
|Location=Sector Zero - Space
|Synopsis=Reaper and Sombra discuss the merger, and how to best take advantage. Also: Everything can be BOOPed - and everyone...
|Cast of Characters=1115, 1117
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:'''     It began with holes in the sky. It began when gates opened across the globe, rumors of aliens and conspiracies. All debunked on national news, of course, the UN firmly in control of the narrative. There were no gates. No aliens. Nothing to see here, move along, move along. Don't mind that the stars are all out of alignment or that the world no longer quite bends down in the same way at the horizon. Flat Earth Conspiracy, that's all. It wouldn't last more than a day, maybe two, at the most. But in that one day, he who struck first struck best. And Reaper was nothing if not good at striking first. The warpgate that formed post-unification is sitting in the middle of a hastily thrown together shelter, preventing casual observation from the outside. The swirling vortex of chaotic energies occasionally flares as something on the other side crosses it, but otherwise the area is relatively quite save for the occasional shuffle of one of the masked Talon agents. And the steady thump of heavy boots walking along the gantry setup. Talon agents glance up, then at each other. "Leave." A single word, growled low and steady. REAPER! The sterile, bone-white mask splashes with refracted color from the gateway, as the agents quickly slip away. The Lord of All Edges (Nothing personal kid) strides forward a few steps in his new found solitude, clawed gauntlets clacking as they wrap around the safety bar. Staring into .. well... the end of the old way of thinking. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Alone? Reaper might think he's alone a lot of times, but despite what he might think, it's not the case.     A familiar sound can be heard as the spot next to him shimmers in light purple, revealing the shorter form of his fellow Talon agent as she has the nerve to reach up and rest her elbow on top of his shoulder. "Hmmm. It's an interesting sight, isn't it?" Sombra muses, pursing her lips. "And it's been going on for nearly a year already... with only a few people knowing. Including the Overwatch."     Whether or not he allows her to rest her elbow on top of his shoulder, he doesn't have to worry about it for long as she pulls her arm back, extends her fingers and begins typing on a screen that just pops into excistence. "Do you know what this means, Gabe?" There's curousity to her tone, sure. But also humour and playfulness. And just by looking at her, Reaper should be able to tell that the younger woman looks amused. True, she's seldom frowning. But every now and then she gets that certain twinkle in her eye. Today is one of those days. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' The masked face jerks slightly to the side; A person who is not incredibly observant wouldn't even see it. But Reaper was taken by surprise by the thermal camo - something that happens more often than not, to his chagrin. A low growl of annoyance starts somewhere deep in his throat when the young action-hacker rests her elbow atop his broad shoulder, but he doesn't brush it off. Either doesn't have time too, or has more important things on his mind. "People.. are sheep. Flash enough pretty pictures on their holovids, and they won't remember yesterday." Gauntlets release the safety bar as he straightens out, crossing thick arms over his chest. The mask turned slightly again; Nearly impossible to tell where he's looking, but it at least gives the impression he's got half an eye on her. "Yes.. it's the death of the old world." Always so gloom and doom! "And after a year we're still here. So it's worse than an invasion - it's nature." A though strikes him, and the large man turns fully to face the 'coloful' Team Talon Daughter. "..Sombraaaa.. what did you do?" 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     "Maybe some people in big groups," Sombra admits with a casual shrug. "Sometimes they need a little push and a shove in the right direction so they can do what needs to be done." Like she did when she exposed Lumerico and their deal in Dorado. That had been pretty fun.     At Reaper's pessimistic words the hacker arches her eyebrows, then rolls her eyes just a little. "Really? Death? It's not even November yet." Save Las Dia des Muertos for then. "Do you not see it? It's not them invading us. It's us... getting the chance to invade /them/! Or at least visit them and see what's out there," she explains, all while her fingers dance over the hexagon keyboards that appear underneath her enhanced gloves. Images roll over the screen, information that flies by perhaps too quickly for most eyes. All of this Sombra doesn't try to hide from Reaper. Not even when he questions what she's been up to.     A grin crosses her face, and she looks up at him. "Relajate~! I merely took advantage of this... to gather some new information." With a quick motion of her finger she flips the screen, turning it around before she pulls it upwards through the air so Reaper can better see. A video clip of the Overwatch... in action on a world that is clearly not their own. "This is an opportunity, Gabe," she points out. "An opportunity for Talon, not to mention us, to get what we want." That grin is still present on her face as she swipes the screen... and another one pops up next to it, a screen with something written on it... The League. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Or a leash to be dragged where they need to go." States 'Gabe' darkly, wisps of smoke rising from him as his shoulders flatten slightly; Wisps of smoke slowly floating away from him, as if he were evaporating slowly. The tactical suit creaking as arms tighten, before his chin rises slightly. Reaper's obsession with death and death-like things had become a bit predictable; Guess it came with the territory of dying again and again. "Death waits for no month." The hard edge disappears just a bit, but never departs. Because Reaper's always got an edge somewhere. "And I'm right. The old way of thinking is gone; This is a lot bigger than a Junkenstein-esque screwup with Humanity's last tincan child." And then Sombra talks about invading -other people-. That shuts Reaper up, to the point there's almost no force behind his reflexive "Don't call me Gabe." Distracted by the videos of Overwatch on alien worlds. The arms relaxing their tight crossed grip, the thoughtful silence a lot more telling than any lack of facial expression. When 'The League' pops up, Reaper's mask turns back to the gateway. Where it anyone else, he'd doubt the authenticity. But Sombra? Sombra prided herself on knowing what was going on. You could almost guarantee if she had something, it was real - because she loved holding it over other people who much more she knew. Annoyance was worth it for the talent. ".. How many others in Talon have you showed?" He begins, gauntlet claws stepping a staccato upon his bicep. 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     By now /Gabriel/ should know that Sombra calls people whatever she wants to. And she seems to take extra pleasure in referring to his previous identity. The one he had before he died. And she doesn't reply to his request either. Instead she merely watches him as he views the screens to take in the information.     It's only when he speaks that she lets the screens disappear with a wave of her hand. "Oh, you're the first one I showed. Widowmaker isn't here right now, and hey... I thought you'd appreciate knowing what was going on. Perhaps appreciate it so much that you would do me an eensy weensy tiny favour again, maybe?"     Sombra reaches into her pocket, then pulls out some items that he should know. She's given them to him before, after all, for when he infiltrated Winston's lab in Gibraltar. "If you help me with this, then I will have all the information you could possibly want on your old friends in the Overwatch." Not to mention all the information that /she/ needs for an initial sweep of the multiverse. "And get us some new allies in the League. Their goals coincide with ours for now, wouldn't you say...?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' That same low growl from somewhere deep in Reaper's throat at yet another 'tiny favour'. The trouble? It was almost always worth the effort. Mask chin down, letting the cowl drop forward just a bit, the tendrils of black smoke curling along the bone-white exterior of that owl face. Or horse skull. OR stylized death mask. Or Deatheater-Wanna-Be mask. Whatever you want to call it, depending on the mood. "I don't have friends, Sombra - I have targets. Something you'll want to keep in mind." Still, his arms unlock from their crossed position, one hand dropping down, palm up. Gauntlet claws open, like a bear trap. Gabe wouldn't admit it, but technology was not his forte; He knew enough to get his job done. For everything else, there's Sombra. HOW stabbing a tiny cylinder into some important machines and pressing a button allowed remote hacking, he wouldn't know; Liquid nanites forming a makeshift circuit? Whatever it is that Sombra does that allows her to hack things at a touch? He couldn't even really say what -he- is now, much less how she does her stuff. They all have their uses. ".. Good. Keep it between the three of us." He states, voice growing colder as he keeps speaking. "And see if you can get us a few introductions to .. 'The League'. It's time to drag this place into the future - kicking and screaming if needed." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     A mock pout settles on Sombra's face at that, and she cants her head, her purple locks bouncing against her shoulder. "Awww, and here I thought we were the best of friends, Gabe... you hurt my feelings..." No, she'll never stop teasing him, it seems. The small cylinders are dropped into his waiting hand. "Gracias. Just do what you did last time, and I'll spend the night working, okay? We should have League contact by morning, it does appear that they are always looking for new muscle... and brains too."     As for keeping this a secret? A chuckle leaves the woman, and she raises a finger to her mouth. "My lips are sealed~" Who knows how many secrets Sombra keeps, anyway? Too many to count. "Now tell me... is there any specific information you want on your... targets?" 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' Claws flex once more with a faint creak as Talon's Finest starts talking about feelings and being friends. Mocking or not, it's obvious that Reaper's not quite comfortable with the topic. That, or his silence is his own form of patience - really, if he'd take off the stupid mask it'd be much easier to know what's going through that dead head of his. IF he still has a face behind it, and not just wisps of black smoke or wriggling teeth tentacles or something else. There's a betting pool somewhere in Talon base as to what. The hand then snaps closed over the cylinders, neatly tucking them into one of the many belts that cross Gabe's waist. Why so many belts? Who knows. A sale at Hot Topic, maybe. "As long as there's three people left alive, someone will want another person dead. Job security's not an issue." Reaper states nonchalantly, before taking a moment to reach beneath his duster-cowl-thing and pull out - TWIN SHOTGUNS. Elbows crooked in a right angle, before he lowers them, biceps flexing slightly as he aims towards the gateway itself. Idly rolling his shoulder so he can sight down one of them, speaking as he does. "Where they sleep and what they love. The last thing we need is someone competent getting in our way - before I can get in theirs." 

:'''{{#var:1117|Sombra (1117)}} has posed:'''     Patience is a virtue, or so they say. And Sombra isn't exactly the type of person who rushes into action before everything is set in place. Likewise, while she does poke fun at her fellow agent, she's never pushed it too much to the point where she's gotten a shotgun aimed at her head. "¿Sí, I doubt we will ever get bored," she chuckles, standing calmly there as Reaper does his edgy thing, aiming at portals in the sky. "And I got it, I'll do what I can to figure that out. And see if I can gain encrypted access to the radios out there, I can always have a chat while I work."     Stepping closer, Sombra narrows her eyes slightly and smiles. "Just be careful when you go out there. Some places have higher security than others, but I know you can do it." Slowly her right hand raises, and she extends her index finger to touch Reaper on his mask, right where his nose would be.     "Boop!"     With that Sombra fades as she activates her translocator, leaving behind a quickly fading afterimage with the tech still visible in the air. 

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:''' "Nothing can stop deat-" Begins Reaper, as he turns his mask back towards Sombra - only to have her finger there. THERE, in his face. Booping him on the fake nose hole. Before he can respond or so much as make comment, Sombra's gone - translocated away. Still, with an angry growl, Reaper swings the butt of his shotgun through where she once was. Making certain she's long gone. Talon doesn't waste talent. And neither does Reaper. With a disgusted sound he throws the shotguns to either side of him, letting them clatter and bounce off the gantry walk. Hands flex and unflex as he stares back towards the gateway. Let the mind's eye watch from behind, his form silouetted, a shadowy blot in the bright, woven colors for a moment. And then he laughs; It's not the echoing, evil laughter of a psychopath. No, there's something worse behind it - actual amusement. Gabriel, though his voice is still messed up. "You would not believe what I put up with, pendejos... but it'll all be worth it in the end." Gauntlets grip the safety bar, Reaper resting his weight upon his forearm as he leans forward. His voice dropping back to the low, reverberating growl he's become so accustomed too. "All of it." Behind and beside him, the abandoned shotguns are already beginning to dissolve away. 
}}

Reaper

2017-05-11T18:34:55Z

MiserEnoch:

{{CharacterRedux
|NameOnMUSH=Reaper
|Color=#a2a9b1
|Char_id=1115
|Img=https://blzgdapipro-a.akamaihd.net/media/artwork/reaper-concept.jpg
|FullName=Gabriel Reyes....?
|Gender=Male
|Species=Human-ish
|Theme=Overwatch
|Chartype=FC
|Active=Active
|Function=Lord of the Edge
|Faction=League
|Rank=4-Associate
|Ranktype=Member
|Quote="Death walks among you.."
|PAge=??
|AAge=??
|Aging=??
|Height=6'1" (1.85 m)
|Weight=220
|Hair=??
|Eyes=??
|Voice=A Growling Keith Ferguson
|Song='Paint It Black' - The Rolling Stones - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4irXQhgMqg
|Profile=A ruthless and remorseless masked mercenary, REAPER had been active on the battlefield for decades - long before Overwatch was formed. His resurgence with the fall of that organization is curiously timed, leaving dessicated bodies in his wake as he moves from fight to fight like an unearthly shade. Armed with a seemingly endless supply of twin 'hellfire' semi-auto shotguns and bizarre abilities, Reaper's focus is on hard, mobile strikes utilizing his expertise in asymmetrical warfare to inflict maximum damage. Reaper claims to be a high-functioning psychopath, and at first brush seems like a shallow soul - conceited, cynical and sadistic. Yet beneath the grumpy exterior lays a man who knows when to be professional, with a hard and unshakable focus on his mission , whether for the Legion or for himself. Rumor holds that Reaper may actually be Gabriel Reyes - one-half of the North America's Soldier Enhancement Program, and a founding member of Overwatch before his death. If so, then what was once a headstrong and pragmatic friend has become something dark and twisted, despite the occasional grim joke.
|Defining=THE GRAVE CANNOT HOLD ME - Reaper is immortal in the classic sense, in that he no longer needs to fear being dead. This stems from his ability to dissolve into a cloying black smoke and reform, the basis of most of his 'supernatural' abilities. While dissolved, he can crudely direct the pace and direction of his ghostly mass, using the ability to both avoid injury and to infiltrate places without air-tight seals. Even full incineration does not appear to be a permanent solution, for he will eventually regenerate should even a portion of his dissolved form escape. This doesn't make him invulnerable; Killing him is only as difficult as killing any 'enhanced' soldier. Making him stay dead is an entirely different matter, although it takes time for him to recover from the cost of each death. If he were prevented from 'reaping' other living creatures, or otherwise entraped and drained, then even he would succumb to a final rest.

THE RECKONING DRAWS NEAR - <CONSENT> When presented with the recently deceased, Reaper seems capable of absorbing the unfortunate to heal himself - leaving a dessicated body, or a corroded chassis in the case of sentient machines. The mechanism operating this cruel power does not seem to differentiate, so long as the thing was once 'alive'. So long as he is able to consume the living, he is able to utilize his abilities - including returning from death time after time.
|Significant=READY FOR COMBAT OPERATIONS - Reaper's proficiency for combat and asymmetrical warfare has been finely honed. While he prefers to utilize the heavy 'hellfire' shotguns, he's more than capable of silent murder or even classic hand-to-hand. His skill set appears to be oriented more in black-ops technique, flanking and attacking from unique angles, but when push comes to shove he can wade in with the best of them. Combining his aptitude for violence with his acquired 'powers' presents a truly unique opponent, such as when he rapidly dissolves and reforms in different poses in order to fire in all directions at once - a technique dubbed 'Death Blossom'.

NEVERMORE - Reaper appears to have experience in strategical and tactical planning. His playbook emphasizes critical success over any other aspect of a mission - no matter the cost. He also has experience working with small, tightly knit crews using an instinctive grasp of a situation. While outwardly vindictive and his leadership style best considered 'cold', Reaper's focus is strictly on the bigger picture and the over-all objective against all other considerations. There are few things that can shake him out of that do-or-die mentality.
|Minor=ENHANCED SOLDIER PROGRAM - Reaper has apparently gone through the Enhanced Soldier Program, displaying strength, endurance, and agility on par with that of a world class Olympian. However, these abilities aren't supernatural but are what would exist for a human at the peak of their training.

HELLFIRE SHOTGUNS - The twin semi-auto shotguns hold four rounds apiece, designed to up close encounters of the worse kind. They are Reaper's preferred weapon for their brutal efficiency. The most interesting part of them, however, is that they appear to be tangled in Reaper somehow - he never has to reload them. Simply throw down the empties and draw two more from his hips. The empty ones will eventually dissolve away, trailing the same cloying smoke that Reaper emits.

FIRST YOU LISTEN, THEN I KILL - Reaper has a fair hand with the Spanish guitar. No one's quite sure why, as it's rare enough to see him even consider hobbies - much less become proficient in something as humanizing as a musical instrument.
|Disadvantages=I'M BACK IN BLACK - Having stepped forth from the grip of death again and again, Reaper has become over confident and arrogant; One might even call it 'hammy' or 'edgy'. If he's got the upper hand, he won't ever quite close the deal - he'll take time to stalk, to monologue, even to kick a puppy if that's what it takes to show just how much control he has. This can lead him to acting rashly if his pride has been poked, walking boldly into traps or acting on the basest of his violent instincts. While in this state of mind it become easy enough for him to miss the obvious, something that has ended up with him once more dead. This extends to his mode of dress as well - barely more than minimal armor, depending on his mobility and his vicious powers to see him through any situation. Not to mention he dresses in creepy costumes and masks, something that simply screams 'classic bad guy'. Or Hot Topic.

THIS IS MY CURSE - Reaper's body is in a constant state of flux, and it is agonizing. This has darkened both his perspective, personality and his goals. He doesn't empathize, he has a hard time relenting, and the whole multiverse has been brought down to two critical factors: With him or against him. He'll gladly use the latter as expendable resources. There are no barriers to a dead man, no hesitation in hurting people to get what he wants - whether physically or otherwise. Even when he's not in his 'bad guy' head space, Reaper seems a cold and malicious sociopath who abandoned morality and ethics long ago.

STICK TO THE MISSION - Reaper's entire existence seems to revolve around one mission or another; Whether an arc-goal or something more immediate and direct, he breaks every situation into its components and assigns them priorities. If a given circumstance is too complex, the obvious answer is to pare it down to its base components. While useful in maintaining focus, it also means that Reaper is not very good at improvisation. There is the plan, there are contingencies, and there are contact reactions. But it's always the unexpected developments that catch him, especially when he's in his 'bad guy' head space and can't be bothered caring about the little things.

MORE! - Reaper is forever hungry, though no food nor water can sate him. Brought about by the unique changes to his body, Reaper's form requires something else - life itself. Whether its a cloud of nanites tearing off raw material to stabilize him or some demonic force pulling the essence of existence is unknown; What is known is that going even a few days without 'reaping' can simultaneously weaken and madden him, sending him into a enraged frenzy as he hunts.

WHAT'RE YOU LOOKING AT? - If his attitude, voice, and manner of dress weren't enough to keep Reaper from being a true socialite, there's also the fact he tends to smoke when he's stressed - or very hungry. As in, literally smoke coming off his form, as if he were slowly evaporating. If he's going to slip into an area, he won't be able to do it with a simple disguise. He can't fade into a crowd, and he tends to draw the attention of security when seen. When you're Reaper, going anywhere is an exercise in infiltration - unless they're expecting you. Or the situation has moved beyond 'stealth'.
}}

Reaper

2017-05-11T18:30:24Z

MiserEnoch:

{{CharacterRedux
|NameOnMUSH=Reaper
|Color=#363636
|Char_id=1115
|Img=https://blzgdapipro-a.akamaihd.net/media/artwork/reaper-concept.jpg
|FullName=Gabriel Reyes....?
|Gender=Male
|Species=Human-ish
|Theme=Overwatch
|Chartype=FC
|Active=Active
|Function=Lord of the Edge
|Faction=League
|Rank=4-Associate
|Ranktype=Member
|Quote="Death walks among you.."
|PAge=??
|AAge=??
|Aging=??
|Height=6'1" (1.85 m)
|Weight=220
|Hair=??
|Eyes=??
|Voice=A Growling Keith Ferguson
|Song='Paint It Black' - The Rolling Stones - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4irXQhgMqg
|Profile=A ruthless and remorseless masked mercenary, REAPER had been active on the battlefield for decades - long before Overwatch was formed. His resurgence with the fall of that organization is curiously timed, leaving dessicated bodies in his wake as he moves from fight to fight like an unearthly shade. Armed with a seemingly endless supply of twin 'hellfire' semi-auto shotguns and bizarre abilities, Reaper's focus is on hard, mobile strikes utilizing his expertise in asymmetrical warfare to inflict maximum damage. Reaper claims to be a high-functioning psychopath, and at first brush seems like a shallow soul - conceited, cynical and sadistic. Yet beneath the grumpy exterior lays a man who knows when to be professional, with a hard and unshakable focus on his mission , whether for the Legion or for himself. Rumor holds that Reaper may actually be Gabriel Reyes - one-half of the North America's Soldier Enhancement Program, and a founding member of Overwatch before his death. If so, then what was once a headstrong and pragmatic friend has become something dark and twisted, despite the occasional grim joke.
|Defining=THE GRAVE CANNOT HOLD ME - Reaper is immortal in the classic sense, in that he no longer needs to fear being dead. This stems from his ability to dissolve into a cloying black smoke and reform, the basis of most of his 'supernatural' abilities. While dissolved, he can crudely direct the pace and direction of his ghostly mass, using the ability to both avoid injury and to infiltrate places without air-tight seals. Even full incineration does not appear to be a permanent solution, for he will eventually regenerate should even a portion of his dissolved form escape. This doesn't make him invulnerable; Killing him is only as difficult as killing any 'enhanced' soldier. Making him stay dead is an entirely different matter, although it takes time for him to recover from the cost of each death. If he were prevented from 'reaping' other living creatures, or otherwise entraped and drained, then even he would succumb to a final rest.

THE RECKONING DRAWS NEAR - <CONSENT> When presented with the recently deceased, Reaper seems capable of absorbing the unfortunate to heal himself - leaving a dessicated body, or a corroded chassis in the case of sentient machines. The mechanism operating this cruel power does not seem to differentiate, so long as the thing was once 'alive'. So long as he is able to consume the living, he is able to utilize his abilities - including returning from death time after time.
|Significant=READY FOR COMBAT OPERATIONS - Reaper's proficiency for combat and asymmetrical warfare has been finely honed. While he prefers to utilize the heavy 'hellfire' shotguns, he's more than capable of silent murder or even classic hand-to-hand. His skill set appears to be oriented more in black-ops technique, flanking and attacking from unique angles, but when push comes to shove he can wade in with the best of them. Combining his aptitude for violence with his acquired 'powers' presents a truly unique opponent, such as when he rapidly dissolves and reforms in different poses in order to fire in all directions at once - a technique dubbed 'Death Blossom'.

NEVERMORE - Reaper appears to have experience in strategical and tactical planning. His playbook emphasizes critical success over any other aspect of a mission - no matter the cost. He also has experience working with small, tightly knit crews using an instinctive grasp of a situation. While outwardly vindictive and his leadership style best considered 'cold', Reaper's focus is strictly on the bigger picture and the over-all objective against all other considerations. There are few things that can shake him out of that do-or-die mentality.
|Minor=ENHANCED SOLDIER PROGRAM - Reaper has apparently gone through the Enhanced Soldier Program, displaying strength, endurance, and agility on par with that of a world class Olympian. However, these abilities aren't supernatural but are what would exist for a human at the peak of their training.

HELLFIRE SHOTGUNS - The twin semi-auto shotguns hold four rounds apiece, designed to up close encounters of the worse kind. They are Reaper's preferred weapon for their brutal efficiency. The most interesting part of them, however, is that they appear to be tangled in Reaper somehow - he never has to reload them. Simply throw down the empties and draw two more from his hips. The empty ones will eventually dissolve away, trailing the same cloying smoke that Reaper emits.

FIRST YOU LISTEN, THEN I KILL - Reaper has a fair hand with the Spanish guitar. No one's quite sure why, as it's rare enough to see him even consider hobbies - much less become proficient in something as humanizing as a musical instrument.
|Disadvantages=I'M BACK IN BLACK - Having stepped forth from the grip of death again and again, Reaper has become over confident and arrogant; One might even call it 'hammy' or 'edgy'. If he's got the upper hand, he won't ever quite close the deal - he'll take time to stalk, to monologue, even to kick a puppy if that's what it takes to show just how much control he has. This can lead him to acting rashly if his pride has been poked, walking boldly into traps or acting on the basest of his violent instincts. While in this state of mind it become easy enough for him to miss the obvious, something that has ended up with him once more dead. This extends to his mode of dress as well - barely more than minimal armor, depending on his mobility and his vicious powers to see him through any situation. Not to mention he dresses in creepy costumes and masks, something that simply screams 'classic bad guy'. Or Hot Topic.

THIS IS MY CURSE - Reaper's body is in a constant state of flux, and it is agonizing. This has darkened both his perspective, personality and his goals. He doesn't empathize, he has a hard time relenting, and the whole multiverse has been brought down to two critical factors: With him or against him. He'll gladly use the latter as expendable resources. There are no barriers to a dead man, no hesitation in hurting people to get what he wants - whether physically or otherwise. Even when he's not in his 'bad guy' head space, Reaper seems a cold and malicious sociopath who abandoned morality and ethics long ago.

STICK TO THE MISSION - Reaper's entire existence seems to revolve around one mission or another; Whether an arc-goal or something more immediate and direct, he breaks every situation into its components and assigns them priorities. If a given circumstance is too complex, the obvious answer is to pare it down to its base components. While useful in maintaining focus, it also means that Reaper is not very good at improvisation. There is the plan, there are contingencies, and there are contact reactions. But it's always the unexpected developments that catch him, especially when he's in his 'bad guy' head space and can't be bothered caring about the little things.

MORE! - Reaper is forever hungry, though no food nor water can sate him. Brought about by the unique changes to his body, Reaper's form requires something else - life itself. Whether its a cloud of nanites tearing off raw material to stabilize him or some demonic force pulling the essence of existence is unknown; What is known is that going even a few days without 'reaping' can simultaneously weaken and madden him, sending him into a enraged frenzy as he hunts.

WHAT'RE YOU LOOKING AT? - If his attitude, voice, and manner of dress weren't enough to keep Reaper from being a true socialite, there's also the fact he tends to smoke when he's stressed - or very hungry. As in, literally smoke coming off his form, as if he were slowly evaporating. If he's going to slip into an area, he won't be able to do it with a simple disguise. He can't fade into a crowd, and he tends to draw the attention of security when seen. When you're Reaper, going anywhere is an exercise in infiltration - unless they're expecting you. Or the situation has moved beyond 'stealth'.
}}

Reaper

2017-05-11T18:22:08Z

MiserEnoch:

{{CharacterNew
|NameOnMUSH=Reaper
|Color=#0099FF
|Img=https://blzgdapipro-a.akamaihd.net/media/artwork/reaper-concept.jpg
|FullName=Gabriel Reyes
|Gender=Male
|Species=Human-ish
|Theme=Overwatch
|Function=The Lord of Edge
|Faction=Syndicate
|Quote=Death walks among you..
|PAge=??
|AAge=??
|Aging=No
|Height=6'1" (1.85 m)
|Weight=210
|Hair=??
|Eyes=??
|Voice=A Growling Keith Ferguson
|Song=Paint It Black - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4irXQhgMqg
|Spoof=No one
|Profile=A ruthless and remorseless masked mercenary, REAPER had been active on the battlefield for decades - long before Overwatch was formed. His resurgence with the fall of that organization is curiously timed, leaving dessicated bodies in his wake as he moves from fight to fight like an unearthly shade. Armed with a seemingly endless supply of twin 'hellfire' semi-auto shotguns and bizarre abilities, Reaper's focus is on hard, mobile strikes utilizing his expertise in asymmetrical warfare to inflict maximum damage. Reaper claims to be a high-functioning psychopath, and at first brush seems like a shallow soul - conceited, cynical and sadistic. Yet beneath the grumpy exterior lays a man who knows when to be professional, with a hard and unshakable focus on his mission , whether for the Legion or for himself. Rumor holds that Reaper may actually be Gabriel Reyes - one-half of the North America's Soldier Enhancement Program, and a founding member of Overwatch before his death. If so, then what was once a headstrong and pragmatic friend has become something dark and twisted, despite the occasional grim joke.
}}

Reaper

2017-05-11T18:18:42Z

MiserEnoch: The Lord of Edge

{{NPC
|NameOnMUSH=Reaper
|Color=#0099FF
|Img=https://blzgdapipro-a.akamaihd.net/media/artwork/reaper-concept.jpg
|FullName=Gabriel Reyes
|Gender=Male
|Species=Human-ish
|Theme=Overwatch
|Function=The Lord of Edge
|Faction=Syndicate
|Quote=Death walks among you..
|PAge=??
|AAge=??
|Aging=No
|Height=6'1" (1.85 m)
|Weight=210
|Hair=??
|Eyes=??
|Voice=A Growling Keith Ferguson
|Song=Paint It Black - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4irXQhgMqg
|Spoof=No one
|Profile=A ruthless and remorseless masked mercenary, REAPER had been active on the battlefield for decades - long before Overwatch was formed. His resurgence with the fall of that organization is curiously timed, leaving dessicated bodies in his wake as he moves from fight to fight like an unearthly shade. Armed with a seemingly endless supply of twin 'hellfire' semi-auto shotguns and bizarre abilities, Reaper's focus is on hard, mobile strikes utilizing his expertise in asymmetrical warfare to inflict maximum damage. Reaper claims to be a high-functioning psychopath, and at first brush seems like a shallow soul - conceited, cynical and sadistic. Yet beneath the grumpy exterior lays a man who knows when to be professional, with a hard and unshakable focus on his mission , whether for the Legion or for himself. Rumor holds that Reaper may actually be Gabriel Reyes - one-half of the North America's Soldier Enhancement Program, and a founding member of Overwatch before his death. If so, then what was once a headstrong and pragmatic friend has become something dark and twisted, despite the occasional grim joke.
}}

4765/The Morningstar

2016-11-10T06:06:34Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/11/08 |Location=The Realm of Gensokyo |Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia has woken once more - and looks to begin anew, planting the seeds of the next..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/11/08
|Location=The Realm of Gensokyo
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia has woken once more - and looks to begin anew, planting the seeds of the next Season of Pain.

Also involves children's toys.
|Cast of Characters=975, 807
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It began with a sound; The sorrowful strands of guitar that roll outwards across the magical forest, a buzzing sound that curls about the tree trunks, disturbing the peaceful silence within. And upon its dark fingers comes the whisper of the unnatural; DEATH METAL. The source is a dark figure who slowly glides along the forest path, the Six Stringed Sorrow grasped loosely in hands. Clawed fingers pluck and slide along the strings, while accompanying sound shivers the air about. Summoning the haunting affects of her music, even as her face is hidden beneath the downward tip of her chin and the long tresses of ebon hair. The Black Tears twisting about her like broken spiderwebs, forming a restrictive dress, somewhere between smoke and liquid as they curl and reform over and over. The Queen of Tears. And beside her? Her right hand, The Flesh Doll. Who looks -exactly- like Kotone, save for the frankenstein stitching that covers nearly every inch of her body. She walks with chin held high, a massive pike held in fist. And why a pike? Because it's more METAL, bitches. "My queen..?" Begins the Flesh Doll, glancing aside. The broken creature's black lips twist into a smirk, but she does not respond to the query. Who knew for what reason Drowned Ophelia wandered, save to heed the call of Sorrow? THEMESONG: Draconian - 'The Morningstar' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iP1K0znscaw 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     There's bustling and humming coming from the Western-like cottage out in the Forest of Magic. Dolls wandering around, cleaning up for their Mistress and doing other various chores.. it is the fall season so the trees are starting to get bare with the leaves turning a beautiful shade of orange and falling to the ground. Alice, however, is sitting upon the roof of her cottage, fingers twisting here and there as her 'puppets' do all the work... or was it her doing all the work?     It didn't matter, the echo of another noise in the forest snaps the Dollmaker out of her 'fall cleaning' daze, a frown coming to her face. "Are the Kappa working in my forest?" she questions to no one, Shanghai and Hourai, the dollmaker's best dolls, look to each other with a shrug... "We don't know..." Hourai mutters, "Let's go check it out!" Shanghai replies.. a nod of acceptance is given to the two and Alice kicks off the house and into the air, following that unnatural noise... 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Unnatural?! Why, METAL was the culmination of all the elements of the world! At least, the BRUTAL ONES. Still, as the Dollmaker flits through the forest towards the noise, she may find fingers of cold and chilled fog curling over and about the lower branches. Slithering and almost seeming alive as it quests blindly outwards. And at the epicenter stands the Queen of Tears herself, chin lowered, swaying slowly despite the quick fretting of her clawed fingers upon the narrow guitar's neck. The blue glow of the wake candles, flickering in time to the heavy strum, casts curious and sharp shadows across her pale blue skin. The slow trickle of ichor from her hidden eyes, dripping away to patter and sizzle upon the ground. Where it strikes, small blades of grass wither and turn ashy gray. But most important of all is Flesh Doll herself. Shifting from foot to foot, trying to hide her impatience as she watches for -things- in the forest. There was no fear in the valley of death - for they were the scariest bitches IN the valley - but she had no intentions of having to get sewn together again. And risk being sewn together wrong. "Ophelia, what are we-" A claw is raised to black lips. "Shhh. Can you hear it..?" A soft, broken giggle as that hand drops once more to the guitar. At last, the broken creature begins to glide forward once more, heading in the Dollmaker's direction.. 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     Yep, unnatural compared to the stuff Alice likes. She flits through the forest quickly, weaving around trees as she looks at the strange, unnatural fog thats rolling through the forest. "Mmm. Kappa? Or are those Fairies playing tricks again?" she questions to herself as Hourai and Shanghai fall behind, the three in an arrow like formation in direct path towards the 'intruders' to her sanctum. That strumming gets louder and louder as she approaches, floating right into a clearing in the forest...     Alice lands and walks into the clearing slowly, her grimoire on her side as she looks around cautiously, "Sunny Milk... Luna Child... Star Sapphire... are you three playing tricks again?" she openly questions to the empty area, that fog running around her feet... she steps forward a few more steps. "Whomever it is, come out now and stop this, you are disturbing my research and my time..." the frown gets bigger and she holds out her hand, Hourai taking point. "Get ready to danmaku..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Beware the stare of Mary Shaw.." Comes the voice from the fog, as the guitar hums itself into silence - but the slow trickle of hammers and music presses on, seeming to shudder from the very air itself. Alice had her bullet hell; Ophelia had her DEATH METAL. The singsong voice continues, shifting somewhere to the left. "She had no children, only her dolls.." To the right. "If you see her in your dreams.." In front? ".. Be sure you never, ever scream." A sillouette moves forward, resolving itself into - FLESH DOLL. Her stitches up features blinking down at Alice, before her face screws up into a frown. But she doesn't speak, looking past the Dollmaker as the pitter patter of droplets striking the ground comes from behind. The fog dulling the big sounds - voices and bird calls - while somehow enhancing the snap of twigs or the drip of waters. "..Or she'll rip your tongue out at the seam." Finishes Drowned Ophelia, the Six Stringed Sorrow held loosely at an angle. Her eyes bright white compared to the dark ichor that stains her cheeks, black lips twisting into a sardonic little smile. "Hello there~" 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     A rhyme that Alice herself didn't know... the guitar finally subsides and she steps forward once more. She stays silent during this entire exchange, a quick eye look towards her two dolls... Shanghai and Hourai quickly equip... a sword in Shanghai's hand and a Lance and Shield combo for Hourai. Flesh Doll, however, gets Alice's attention more than the Death Mistress of Death Metal.. which to say isn't TOO much. The sounds set her on edge, a shiver.     "Hello." she replies in kind, eyeing that smile. "You're not one of the three Fairies... so I assume you're here for what reason?" she questions, "If it's passing through... head left until you get to the next clearing, then a right and you'll be out of the forest before nightfall." Alice clutches her Grimoire tightly, something about this unsettled the Dollmaker... "Or was it something you needed from me...?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' There's nothing happy in the toothy smile that Ophelia displays; More like a crocodile baring its teeth, to be honest. "No.. I'm not a fairy at all." Clawed fingers come up, curling about half of her own face - only to draw slowly downward. "I heard there was a babe lost in the woods; I've come to eat her all up." A pause, before a broken giggle. "I also heard there was a dollmaker too - the greatest dollmaker of all - and my toy is broken. I sewed her together wrong, you see." "I'm not broken." Hisses Flesh Doll, glaring at Ophelia. "I'm just.. ****'ing unfinished. If that tin-can bitch wou-" She snaps her lips shut at a raised finger from the Queen of Tears, and a pointed glance. But that cruel, cold little smile never fades as Ophelia glides around Alice and her dolls. The miasma of Black Tears leaving a strange, greasy streak in the air as it follows her path to the other side of Flesh Doll. Pale blue arms drape around the mockery, claws bumping along the stitching. The soft patter of tears falling from Ophelia's chin, quite in contrast to the brittle little smile. "Are you the little babe - or are you the dollmaker?" She questions softly. 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     Alice nods, "I see that." she whispers... looking between Ophelia and the Flesh Doll. "Hourai... Shanghai..." The two dolls slowly retreat to the dollmaker's side, keeping their weapons drawn... and ready to spew danmaku at a moments notice. "I'm afraid you may see no 'babe' in the Forest of Magic, for there are no children in here aside from my dolls." and maybe Marisa if you count some things... "However, I am the Dollmaker of Gensokyo. Alice Margatroid."     She looks towards Flesh Doll she speaks, Alice tilts her head a bit and she stares. "A... A living doll?" she questions, "Made of flesh? And I've been trying to achieve similar with my own dolls..." she looks between the two, watching Ophelia as she encircles her... the 'wolf' encircling the 'lamb' as prey. "Unfinished? What are you missing?" she questions, the Dollmaker seems a bit uncomfortable, untrusting of the situation, but she waits, looking between them... "Perhaps... it's something I can assist with. For a price." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears continues to slowly stroke her claws down Flesh Doll's stitched features; Much to the Kotone Mockery's discomfort. But the thing doesn't speak or argue, even as Ophelia tilts its chin up with the tip of a claw; A small bead of black ichor leaking from the tiny wound. "I stole her heart; I stole the rest of her too. Stitched and sewn together with my own hair, and bathed her in.. well." The clawed finger curls away, Flesh Doll looking pissed off. But that's nothing new. She spits aside, wiping the ichor that trickles from beneath her chin with a stitched fist. ".. My brain and my spine. That -bitch- still has them, has -my- life, and -my- friends, and -my- .. my -everything-. Every ****'ing thing she stole from me. Ophelia put together what she could find, but." Flesh Doll shrugs, uncomfortable. "The Dollmaker of Gensokyo? Hmm.." Ophelia's finger touches against her lip thoughtfully, that cruel and cold gaze narrowed in vicious humor. "And you live out here all on your own? It must get lonely.." Eyes flick to the dolls, and black lips curl. ".. Or not." Claws flick and the creature's chin rises as hands lower back to her sides. "My first offer: Eternity." A soft, mad chuckle. "You want the secrets to her construction? .. Then fix her. And you'll find what you need." 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     Alice watches the interactions between Ophelia and the Flesh Doll, watching the discomfort happen and the black ichor.. She hmms a bit, looking back towards her dolls... but when Ophelia speaks again /and/ the Flesh Doll speaks, she slowly approaches the two. "Let me... examine you." she whispers, doing a 'push away' motion with her hands towards Ophelia to get a better look at the Flesh Doll. "Such construction... living flesh, brought to life... walking, talking."     "And a mouth upon her, but..." she gives a light shrug, "Missing ... brain and spine? How is she upright and capable of cognitive thought and speech?" she taps her foot, looking at Ophelia some. "I do live out here on my own, in my cottage. There's one other in this forest... Marisa Kirisame." those eyes follow to her dolls then back... and when the offer is made...     "I'm a youkai, I have a longer lifespan than most humans out there. My mother is a demon, queen of Makai." a pause, "I can try to fix her... and remove those unsightly scars left with that haphazard sewing. You aren't allergic to magic, are you?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Oh .. I wasn't talking about lifespan.." Begins the creature, black lips pressed together in a strange, cruel smile. She unravels herself from the shadow of Kotone when Alice approaches, clawed fingers trailing as she slips aside. Flesh Doll, for her part, just looks annoyed. ".. I'm right ****'ing here. I'm the real one. Why the **** do you two keep referring to me in third person? I'm -real-" Fingers curl into fists; The creak of skin and stitching, even as a small trickle of ichor slides down the side of her nose - a mimic of that black weeping that continually falls and stains Ophelia's own pale blue features. "A demon queen?" States the Queen of Tears, gliding behind Alice. But, in a poised mockery of innocence, her claws are behind her back, arms pinioned behind her waist. See how innocent and harmless she is? Bright eyes narrow slowly, and her head tilts - tresses of black hair falling across half her face. "Maybe you're lonelier than I thought. Where are you friends..?" Eyes slide aside to the dolls, and that smirk grows a bit wider. ".. your real friends. The people who care for you, and visit you? The people who love you and check on you to make sure you're okay..?" And then a slow shrug of her shoulders. "The flesh remembers; It sweats at the thought of heat, prickles at memories of cold. This was the flesh, abandoned." An upnod to Flesh Doll, who turns her head aside. Before Ophelia's white teeth flash behind black lips. "Allergic to magic? Not that I know of.." 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     "A demon queen." she repeats, watching the Queen of Tears glide behind her... her words peirce like ice... where was Marisa and Reimu? She hasn't heard from Tomoyo in a long time either... or anyone else she considered a friend. "I don't know where they are..." she whispered, "Everyone has... probably been busy." she tries to justify them not coming... "And my cat miko... has... " she chokes... and sighs, looking towards the Flesh Doll. "All my friends... I have most of them at home, my dolls."     She walks forward, towards the Flesh Doll, and with a direct address... "Who are you, so I can make you whole again. Or try to make you whole again, I've not worked with flesh." a turn towards Ophelia, something set her off edge, a twinge of uncomfortability... but there was a living, breathing doll.. that moved and thought upon its own right in front of her... something she wanted to do for years... "Eternity, huh?"     "I accept." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "It's funny how that happens, isn't it?" Whispers Ophelia, lifting her chin up as she stares down at the smaller Dollmaker; The smile fading from her lips as she lifts a clawed hand to study it. "Friends only so long as you're needed - useful, wanted, spoken too. And then one day .. well.. you're alone in the woods with your toys. Alone." Eyes flick back down, her face somber and serene. "Friendship's just another word for 'useful'. But don't worry; I'm sure you were very useful to them. And when they need you to be useful again, they'll come around. It's not like you're going anywhere, is it? You'll always be there... -when they need you-." No smile. No teeth. Rather, the quiet patter of tears that falls from her chin once more, as she lets those words hang. Flesh Doll, for her part, lowers her head. Glowering at her own fists, as she chews on her lip. ".. My name is Kotone Yamakawa. I was born in New Port, Japan. And my life.. my -spine- .. has been stolen by a tincan cyborg bitch who pretends to be me." She hiccups, the fury disappearing briefly as she presses the palm of her hand to her eye. ".. All my friends, my family. My -life-, goddammit! She has them all. And none of them believe me. I'm right -here-." Teeth clench, and then she relaxes, drawing in a deep breath and staring down at Alice, her features riddled with stitches. ".. Can you do it? Can you fix me? Can you make me whole again?" Ophelia, meanwhile, has lifted her whole arm - and slides a claw along the inside, from elbow to wrist. Ichor bubbles and splashes downwards, curling and evaporating like smoke before it hits the ground. "Down the lane, not across the street; That's how we slice the meat." She glances to Alice, winking once, before turning her bleeding arm over. The ichor coallesces between her claws, something between liquid and smoke, before it droops downwards. A stem. The bubbling sphere solidifies, glosses, spouts leaves; A black apple. With the words 'Eat Me' carved into the side. "The power of a broken heart." Murmurs Ophelia, her eyes moving to it. Tilting her head slowly as she cups it with her other hand. "No more fear. No more loneliness. Nothing can hurt, nothing can touch the soft, bruised spots. No more betrayals - no more abandonments. An eternity without fear of death." 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     Alice is looking quite sternly, studying the Flesh Doll. "Kotone Yamakawa..." she blinks a bit, "I know that name." though Ophelia's words peirce like a dagger, maybe it's true... she's only useful as a friend to them when it's convinent... and she can make things quite convinent with her dolls... she stares at 'Kotone' and gives a brief nod. "I've not worked with the flesh, but the knowledge I get working on you will help me. I cannot give you a yes, but I shall at least be able to remove those unsightly scars from you."     Alice rests a hand upon the Flesh Doll giving a light smile, "YOu shall be whole. I will do what I can for your sake and mine." she turns towards Ophelia, looing at the apple that wasn't there before. "And this... this apple will help?" she questions, the opportunity probably wouldn't present itself again... she looks at Ophelia, "How do I know that you won't do the same... just use me when the time is right?" she snatches that apple and looks at it... then back at the Flesh Doll. "Ah, you'll just need me for keeping Kotone proper, won't you?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll nods a few times, the hurt in her as obvious as the stitches that layer her body together; As Elizabeth stated, paraphrased: 'Evil is just simple pain'. When she stops scowling, when she stops looking so full of -hate-, it's easy to see just how young she is. Barely older than Ophelia herself, when the black hearted bitch isn't being a super moody emo. ".. It's better than nothing, and that's all I've got." She murmurs. The Queen of Tears, meanwhile, slowly leans forward. The black apple held in both hands, proffered outwards. Bright eyes and a serene smile on her face as she speaks, words hushed and somehow amplified by the fog that rises. "This is power; Power to break your old bindings, whatever was holding you back before. Power to shrug off your weaknesses and float." Her gaze does not flicker, but remains, strong and purposeful. Her chin lowering slightly, even as her voice softens. ".. It will hurt, at first. Change always does. But I am always honest. I am going to use you - for Kotone and for myself - but I am never going to lie to you and say that you are my friend only so that you will help me. I will never leave you here alone, with only the trees and dolls to speak too. I will never abandon you like they have; Come with me, Alice. Follow me down the rabbit hole and see what secrets it holds." 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     Alice knows this hurt quite well, seeing the young looking Kotone in front of her, then back to Ophelia. She takes a few deep breaths, drinking in the current foggyness of the area. She stares at the apple, the words look almost like a command... "Power to break my old bindings.."     "Very well." Hourai and Shanghai look between each other, "We will always be here for you Alice." this gets a smile from the dollmaker... "Down the rabbit hole." she whispers, bringing the apple up to her lips....     And she eats the offered power. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The bite melts in Alice's mouth, bitter and salty at first - and then, somehow, melding to something sweet and cloying as it passes tongue and slips down throat. And somewhere half way down her throat it halts, lodges. Stuck. The Queen of Tears straightening out, spreading her arms wide even as her smile fades away; Chin dropping, a soft giggle breaking from her black lips, even as black tears leak from her eyes - pitter pattering against the ground. The Death Metal shivering as it grows, expands, the fog rising higher and higher as another is drawn towards Sorrow.. The lump in Alice's throat grows thicker, hotter - keeping all air away from screaming lungs. Ever had a wailing weep? Not simple tears, but that sensation of absolute and total loss. The death of a parent. The messy end of friendship. The sense, the absolute acknowledgement, that nothing can or will ever be the same again. How it curls in the chest like a lead viper, crushes ribs, squeezes the heart, growing hotter and tighter, a hysterical sob that never breaks even as you choke on it; Now imagine that rather than breaking at last, rather than the relief that washes with letting go, that pressure never stops. It grows tighter, it grows hotter, down and down in an endless spiral until something just- Snaps. Imagine it. Feel it. Alice, who had done everything in her power to stop the witch and Shrine Maiden - and failed. Failed her adopted mother, her adopted world, her adopted people. And when she joined them? They used her, left her, alone and timid among her dolls and her forest and her monsters. Let it twist the lens of perspective, let the grip of fire take hold, and for someone as timid and withdrawn as Alice - let it break loose. Let the dam wash away beneath misery's squall. For as much as it hurts, as much as it'll hurt forever, at least it's -hers-. Nothing outside will ever hurt as much as what's inside. She can be untouchable, beyond piss-poor things like 'morality'. What is there to fear when all that frightens has been unleashed? When the worse has come and gone, then what's left to hold her back anymore? There is power in her heart, restrained by 'friends', by childish loves, by rules and nature. Broken, nothing can stop her from simply doing as she wishes. Nothing to keep her from just ... floating away from it all. Lost in Sorrow, stronger and crueller and -empty- of all that could hurt her. Above, blue skies boil to black, crackling lightning turning what little light there was aside. And the rain falls, cold and wet. But what does that matter either? 

:'''{{#var:807|Alice Margatroid (807)}} has posed:'''     Bittersweet is the taste of this 'bad apple', taking a swallow of the first bite, trying to savor what she had, but the adamant refusal to go down... the lump of apple growing in her throat, Alice's eyes grow wide as ahe gasps for air, falling to her knees as it suffocates her. She was had, wasn't she... she agreed too a deal from the 'devil' and the bite of the forbidden apple rings true.     The time during the Mystic Square incident... Then the Lotus Land Story incident... she failed, many times she failed to stop the witch and miko from getting to mom... and just failing the world after she made that last stand.. and most recently the Scarlet Wing Expansion incident, failed so many times to bring her mother what she wanted... not to mention the times she has been left alone... only to be called to briefly help. The pain of the lump in her throat, coupled with that emotionally draining realization has the dollmaker's eyes flood with tears and to slump forward, letting the Sorrow overtake her.     Who needed friends who only came by when they needed something. Who needed a parent that might not do much for her for her failures. Only her dolls mattered at this point, her dolls, Ophelia and this Kotone. The rain drenches the Dollmaker, Hourai and Shanghai droop and float towards their Mistress... and Alice looks up... at the Queen of Tears... 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The beat of Alice's heart is matched by the sudden strumming in the air; Somewhere in her fall - somewhere in her sinking - the Six Stringed Sorrow has found its way back to Ophelia's claws. Her face upwards, eyes closed as the rain pours upon her pale blue features. It washes along her eyes, the Black Tears running in a continuous stream along her chin, curling along her neck. Water does not appear to bother the blue wake candles that flicker and dancer along the machine head. And when Alice looks up, her own eyes roll open. And her chin lowers once more, black lips a thin line. There was nothing joyous in Sorrow - simply the acknowledgement of the inevitable. That nothing, nothing, meant anything anymore - so why not do whatever the **** you wanted? It wouldn't change the end. Her chin lifts at last, and she speaks, her voice proud and bright as lightning crackles in the sky above. "No Gods. No priests. No Kings. Topple their thrones, and crack their temples." "I dub thee M'Alice - The Princess of Tears." A sob breaks her words, chin dipping once more. But where her sobs hiccup in her throat, a mad, broken giggle bubbles upwards. Power. Madness. The essence of grief incarnate, black fingers humming in the veins. "There's so much to be done, M'Alice. So many little lights to put out." Eyes flick open, and refocus. "So many dolls to make. Can you see the end?" 
}}

4721/Mob Rules

2016-10-26T20:26:33Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/10/26 |Location=RIFTS Earth |Synopsis=Forgotten Ophelia follows her feet, and winds up next to Staren. And then comes Inga and Ainsley. |Cast..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/26
|Location=RIFTS Earth
|Synopsis=Forgotten Ophelia follows her feet, and winds up next to Staren. And then comes Inga and Ainsley.
|Cast of Characters=975, 42, 525, 151
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Who knows why she's wandering. She doesn't even know; Awoken from a nightmare, feeling unsteady - that age old ache for the black waters that she's had to shake off most of her life. It just seemed a lot stronger now, for some reason. And those -people- claiming to be friends, saying how she'd somehow forgotten things..? She couldn't even call it bullshit until she got her head on straight. So she went walking. That was the easiest thing - just get busy. Something in her drew her steps here. That pain in her chest was a mild irritant for right now, but what worried her is that it was -new-. Flashing from one gate to another, until here she was. Her sneakers moving along unknown streets filled with unknown humans and monsters. She was hesitant at first, keeping to the sides. But now? Now she's almost used to the press of the mob around her. In the midst of this colorful array of inhumanity and bizaare wonders, a brown haired girl in a black shirt was practically invisible. She still kept her palms on the hilts of her twin swords, though, pausing here and there to stare in confusion at one offer or another. But still she moved on, following some invisible, half understood thread. THEMESONG: Black Sabbath - 'Mob Rules' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oq04uFYUi0E 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren may have moved out and all but stopped his work in the family repair business, but he still sort of sees Lazlo as home. Also, he has perfectly mundane reasons to visit, like bank stuff (Staren keeps most of his money in Lazlo's bank -- small amounts in NGMI and black market credits for dealing with traders, his Union account for dealing with other stuff in the Multiverse, and some coinage in Equestrian gold bits and one of the silver coinages Creation uses for dealings in those respective worlds) and grocery shopping when he wants meat that isn't vat-grown or alien.     So it is that Staren's just walking out of a grocery store when he happens to see Ophelia in the crowd. "Ophelia!" He calls, running over. "Ophelia, what are you doing here?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Forgotten Ophelia, Queen of Nothing, snaps her head aside as someone calls her name. Hands grip the pomel of her sword, knuckles white for a moment; Spooked. Staring at Staren, until comprehension dawns. "Oh. You're one of .. them. My friends?" She sounds uncertain, lips twisting to the side. Before shaking it off. She doesn't smile, but her hands do leave the swords at last as she crosses her arms. "I don't know." She replies honestly, the words bitter on her tongue. "Chest was hurting, and I've still got no clue what's going on." She turns her head aside, watching another SOMETHING wander past, eyes locked on its four legged stride before she looks back to Staren. Eyes drifting up towards cat-ears, down to cat tail. ".. I let my shoes lead. Do you live here? Maybe I'm looking for you." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren tilts his head to the side. "Well... we /could/ be friends. If you want." He smiles awkwardly. As she asks if he lives here, he slips his hands into his pockets. "I grew up here, I moved out about a year ago. Why would you be looking for me?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "I don't -know-." States Ophelia, throwing her hands up. Arms recross over her chest as she stares down at her own sneakers, thinking. ".. I don't think I like you, but I don't know why. I know you're not human." She looks up, through the tresses of her own brown hair. ".. And I know this isn't my world." She points a finger up. "My sky was never blue." She finally drops her arms, and runs a hand through her hair. "Look, can we.. go somewhere? I want to know what happened. And I think you're the only person who's offered to explain it without treating me like some damn infirm." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren folds his arms. "You probably don't like me because we fought when you were high on evil. And I'm half-human, actually."     He looks up at the sky at that comment. "What color was it?"     Then he looks back at her. "Sure. Um... have you had breakfast yet?" He leads her down the street to a nearby diner. It's normal enough, though the patrons are almost as varied as the rest of the populace, and soon a server comes to take their order. He has red skin and little spiny growths on his chin and the back of his head, and two prominent horns on his forehead. Staren looks to him, "Um... You know what? As long as I'm here, some greasy breakfast food. Sausages and bacon with I dunno, pancakes. Wait no, hash browns. Yeah. And some soda." He looks across the table to Ophelia. "You want anything?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Evil?" There is a cloud across Ophelia's face for a moment, lost in thought. Another slow trickle of black ichor from the corner of her eye as she rubs her temple, trying to remember. And then she's distracted again, tilting her head back to look up. "Mostly storms. Reds, purples. Greens and pinks near the cold mountains, ribboning across the sky. Blacks and greys the further you go east, towards the dying lands. But that's cut off from the rest of us once the bridge fell.. But never blue. Not in my life." And then she shakes her head, and follows the cat-boy down the street, sitting at the table. Doing her best not to be the confused newcomer to the world, still quietly rubbing her forehead. "Half human? I don't even know what that means. Was one parent human and the other demon, or..?" She sighs, and shrugs. "Uh. Do you have a beer tree in this world? Or raptorelk?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren furrows his brow slightly at the trickle. "Huh. Your sky sounds pretty." He bristles a bit when she says 'demon'. "Not every being from another world is a demon. Don't call anyone a demon here." The server is rolling his eyes. Given their appearance, devilmen hear something like that a lot. Hell, it's even in their nickname!     "But yes, my mother is from another world. Extraversal, alien, whatever you want to call them... around here we say 'd-bees', short for 'dimensional beings'."     He shakes his head. "We don't have a beer tree as far as I know. I've never heard of one on any world, though I've seen a bacon tree. Raptor-elk... I don't know. I haven't heard of it, but I'd hardly be surprised to see a creature matching that description somewhere on this world." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Look, in my world there were three things." Begins Ophelia, counting them off on her black fingered nails. "Demons. Humans. ... Tear Drinkers. There were more before the time of the Titans, if you believe the runes. But that's all that's left now." And then she settles back again, closing her eyes as she simply nods. "D-bees." "It was beautiful. Lonely, but beautiful. The sky was always alive. I traveled all over the Brutal Lands, as much as I could between the beasts and the demons. It was never the same sky." Eyes open up once more, even as she shrugs. "Grease, then. And beer, if your world has it." That cool gaze is once more turned towards Staren, flicking up to his ears. A thoughtful frown. "How else did I know you? Only as an enemy?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Brutal lands?" Staren echoes. The server notes their order and walks off.     "'Fraid so." Staren rubs his hands together a little nervously. "I'm not good at redeeming enemies instead of killing them, but I take the chance whenever I can. You I wouldn't have... expected to be saveable, but two friends of mine thought you could be saved, and they were right. I'm glad you get to have a future of more than sadness and madness and death."     "I'm not sure exactly what happened... something about... you were really sad about something, and drowned yourself in the sea of tears, whatever that is. Then you went around trying to spend sadness and grief. If you weren't crazy, I don't know if we could have fought you off. Well, without a lot more casualties, anyway. Does any of this sound familiar?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Mm hm. The time after the death of the great Fire Beast is known as the Brutal Age. So.. the Brutal Lands." A shrug of shoulders, Ophelia staring at the table top as Staren speaks. Her face is twisting into further confusion, even as she struggles to keep herself placid and unaffected. But that slowly twists into something approaching outrage as Staren keeps speaking about madness and death - And just as suddenly smooths. "The Sea of Black Tears." Her gaze lifts from the table, looking right through the Demon-Man - black ichor slipping from her eyes, crawling along her cheek to drop from her chin. Sizzling against the table top. She turns to fully face Staren, expression quiet and unreadable. And then she grimaces, pushing away from the table without another word. Sneakers kicking up a bit of dust as she quickly walks away from the cat-man, without another word. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren stands up. "Hey, wait!" He places a black credstick on the table and follows Ophelia. "Wait! My friends worked so hard to save you! You can't just... please don't like go crazy again or whatever! We can talk this out! You want honest truths? I'm not holding anything back, I really /do/ want to see you have a bright future instead of a dark one!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia turns, swiping her hand through the air at chest level. Practically hissing. "I -know- you're lying. I would.. I would -never-. The Sea of Black Tears is -evil-. It took everything from me. Everything from -us-, everything away from the human tribes. And I've had to deal with that .. that -taint- my whole life because of-." She snaps her teeth shut, before continuing. "And you're going to sit there and tell me I threw myself into its black grip?" She's breathing hard, swaying suddenly to lean against a lightpost. Gripping her shirt over her heart, before bending over to rest the palms of her hands on her knees. Coughing, a few patters of black ichor striking the ground. She sniffs, wiping a fist over her nose before straightening up again. The ichor halting - for now. Still holding onto that lightpole for balance, though, knuckles white. "Fine. Honest truth. Who are you, really? And what do you -want- from me?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren stops and considers this. "...Hmm. You have a point, I don't actually /know/ you did. I was inferring from something others said about someone driving you to extreme grief, but for all I know, someone pushed you in."     He looks at her a bit sadly. "I'm Staren. From this Free City of Lazlo. I work as a researcher and problem solver for the Union... although they're often problems that just need to be shot with a lot of lead, explosives, or high-energy particles. I want you to be a good person, or at least a peaceful one. At least not... I don't want anyone to be able to say we should have killed you instead of purifying you."     He looks away for a moment. "...There's one thing I'm not telling you, although it too is a suspicion rather than a fact. I /can/ say that I am /not/ the person to talk to you about it. Kotone will back me up on that. She's someone who came to help purify you, despite..." He scratches his head awkwardly. "The thing you became made an evil clone of her that wants to kill her. And she was still willing to see you purified, helped, instead of killed." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia is silent, the anger and confusion drained out of her as Staren speaks. Her chin dips, hair falling in front of her face once more. Black tears quietly pattering against the ground, silent as the grave. ".. If I was drowned, you should have killed me. Nothing comes back from the Sea of Black Tears unchanged. No one." She finally looks up, expression empty as an overturned cup. "You can't save a Tear Drinker. I've tried. I've tried everything I could think of. The best thing you can do is end their misery." She shudders, drawing breath once more. Swallowing the lump in her throat, eyes closed. And then she's still again. ".. So, whatever you did, thank you. I don't know why I don't like you; You.. seem like a nice thing. Person. But I'm going now; Don't find me again. It's safer for you that way." She'll wait a moment more, eyes drifting up for a moment. A sad smile drifting across her features. "I do like your blue sky. It's cleaner, somehow. Wish I'd seen it before." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "I didn't say you weren't changed, though noone knows exactly how yet." He shrugs. "It's alright, I'm not very likeable. Um... Look, I'm paying for the meal anyway, so won't you at least eat it? We can have them package it up for you to eat elsewhere, if you want." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Forgotten Ophelia turns her head, looking back at the crowded road behind her. And all the unknown it promises. Then her gaze turns back to the cat man, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. Before sighing, and dropping her hand from the post; How she manages to keep from stabbing herself with those spiked braclets is anyone's guess. Sneakers kick up a slow bit of dust as she finally approaches again, settling herself back on the seat. ".. At least you've got answers. Lies or otherwise." She frowns. Then looks aside again, and up to the cat ears. Before reaching up to touch one. Fluffy ear. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren returns to his seat, and tries to remain stonefaced as she reaches for the ear. Well, apparently she's never seen a nonhuman person before, so it's understandable. The ear flicks reflexively. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Huh. Returning her hand to herself, Ophelia places both upon the table. Staring at her black nails; At least -that- hasn't changed. Her gaze flicks back up before she nods. "The others. If you were all my enemies - why did you call yourselves my friends? That doesn't make any sense. I don't.. remember them. Exactly." The frown. ".. But I don't think I like any of them. I don't know why." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "I said I was willing to /be/ your friend, if you'd like. As to others' motivations... I can only guess. But in the hero business, we have to kill a /lot/ of people. Maybe seeing one they could save was a refreshing change. Maybe they just believe everyone's life has value. Me, I'm trying to make the best future, and I do think that everyone's life has value." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "You sound like Lars." Smirks Ophelia aside, another shudder running through her. A dark frown tugging at her lips. "Lars. I need to get home, and tell him what I found... " Pitter patter, goes the ichor upon the counter top. ".. Don't I..?" Another shake of the head, before she puts her chin on her fist. "So, is that what you guys do? Run around and try to save people?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren shrugs, he doesn't know who Lars is.     "Pretty much. ...I mean... Yeah. Everyone has their reasons. I can give you a philosophical treatise if you really want. I have a lot of academic reasons, but... I... Sometimes I think of people in bad situations, with no hope. Noone to help them. Someone has to do something. I could've been them if I wasn't lucky, and I'd want someone to help me, right?" 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Suddenly, Inga! It had taken her a while to here, as she'd been unsure about bringing a horse to a modern city like this one. So, she'd walked. And Inga walks slowly. Inga finally appears, approaching the table, dressed in more modern clothing--a long black skirt and a light blue cashmere sweater. She still wears most of her jewelry and talismans however. "Ah, there you are," she says. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Depends on who's coming to help." State Ophelia darkly, fingers taping out a staccato on the table top. "Sometimes its better to just do it alone." But outside of that, she doesn't conflict with Staren's words. Out of questions for the moment, her hand across her mouth. That thousand yard star- OH GOD IT's INGA. She blinks aside, looking between Staren and Inga. The frown on her face smoothing out to a placid expression, before she finally turns in her seat. Apparently trying to think of where to even start. ".. Here I am." She finally manages, weakly. Before looking between the two of them again. ".. So, coming back around to it. Why me? There're lots of.. lots of -them-." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Some people can't help themselves." Staren replies.     "Lots of whom? ...'Tear drinkers'? You're the only one of... whatever you were, that we've encountered. But we haven't been to your world much." 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:''' Ainsley is tagging along with Inga. She has a variety of gauze patches and bandages on her scales where she got struck by that black glass before. She moves at a slow pace, and stays just behind Inga as if she were some kind of bodyguard. When they locate Staren and Ophelia, her eyes fixate on Ophelia carefully. She doesn't say much, at least until Ophelia asks 'why me.' "We helped you because you were hurting my friends," she states, plainly and directly, "Nothing special beyond that. The suffering just had to stop, for both sides." "I'm Ainsley," she adds, and then she awkwardly stands to the side, having not been invited to sit down. It's clear she's uneasy with Ophelia's presence, though she has no trouble making eye contact when needed. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga takes a seat, smiling softly, perhaps a bit uneasily. "It is as Ainsley says," she confirms, ordering a coffee. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia slides out of her seat as well when Ainsley shows up - her hand naturally dropping to the pomel of her left-most sword. It is with a brief hesitation that she lifts her arms, crossing them over her chest. Chin down as Ainsley speaks, a brief silence. A tug at her lower lip with teeth, before they move to a thin line. ".. I still don't believe you. I wouldn't-. There's nothing in the brutal lands left that would make me want to ... partake." She raises her head, looking at both for just a moment. "I don't think either of you appreciate how much it has stolen from my world." A deep, slow breath. "But okay. So I was hurting your friends, and instead of killing me, you - somehow pulled me from its black fingers." And now her arms drop, and she focuses on Ainsley. "How can it be done again? There are others who.." A turn of the head. "Others. Just others. If you can do this, then.. then we can defeat the Coil. We can free the lands." 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:''' "It isn't something I can teach to others." Not the most encouraging thing to say to someone needing that kind of hope. Ainsley smiles warily as she says it, as if giving mild bad news to someone, though she knows it's much more frustrating than that for someone who clearly needs that kind of hope. "Just for you, it required several very strong soldiers and we still got hurt in the process... and I am pretty sure that it is a temporary solution. But... There is hope. There is more we can do. It will just take time." She looks aside and down, and back up to Ophelia. She turns her Sight on for a moment, checking for the truth of what she said. If the presence of that Sorrow was bubbling back up then she would have to confirm it before she proceeded down this train of thought. Her eyes glowed for a moment, and then closed after she got a good look at Ophelia, looking a little strange and magical but doing no apparent harm. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga truly is sympathetic. "I have seen your world...I have seen a lot of things, through your eyes and my own. I know your world is in a difficult state. I will help how I am able...but it is a very large job and yours is not the only world in need of help. But I will do what I can, think of new ways..." Inga closes her eyes a moment, sighs. She has a feeling what needs to be done, and no idea if they can do it. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia drops her head again, lips a thin line at that. "Temporary." She repeats. The slow trickle of ichor down her cheek, which she wipes away and flicks thoughtlessly. Where it lands, it sizzles, evaporating into nothing. And then a deep breath, before she focuses on both Inga and Ainsley. Lips in a thin line. "How long do I have? .. " She begins. And then her voice lowers. "And which of you is going to kill me before I'm done? If I did partake; I am lost. I'm not going back to that. Not like-. I'm not going." That sad little smile crosses her lips once more, tresses of her hair hiding her eyes. "Like I told.. Staren? Staren. I've tried everything. I've hunted the ruins, looking for a way to bring someone back. But the Titans hid their secrets well. So I went hunting for -a different- secret.." She frowns. "What of the temple? Did I ever find what I sought? .. Did I get it back to Lars?" And finally a slow, trembling breath. "Other worlds. How far has the taint spread?" 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:''' Ainsley stares at Ophelia in silence for several awkward seconds. That question does not make the reptile happy. 'How long do I have?' She heavily considers what that would mean... and so she doesn't spare this woman the details. "Something happened to you that drove you to the Tears," she begins, "The story begins with a man named Eddie. You hated him, you shouted it to the very mountaintops, but you didn't do much to explain why that was. What he had done to deserve it is unclear, but in order for you to be healed, you will need to forgive him. And in order for that to happen, we need him to talk to you... or you need to find it in yourself, on your own." She finds a chair to bring up to the table, not sure where she should sit, so this is the best solution. "This 'you,'" she adds, pointing at Ophelia, "This is only a part of your true self. To get what you are looking for, we'll need to return to the source. To the Tears themselves. We'll need to find the real you... but then you will remember everything. You'll probably hate us for what we did to you. But I ask that you give this thought. We want you to be free of pain, but we can't do it without your help. We can't help you move on until you want to." "The secret to fixing this lies at the bottom of the Sea, I'm sure of it." She gives Ophelia a determined stare. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga shakes her head. These are difficult things to hear for her. She reaches over to place a hand on her arm, tentatively. This is the woman that's been trying to kill her for months...but she's not. This is the person she was before all that, and she doesn't remember. Will knowing trigger it all again? Inga isn't sure she wants to risk that now.... But Ainsley says the name. Uh oh. "Ophelia, I am prepared to do as I must. I will not lie to you. We want to help you, but we cannot let you back to hurting others. However, I am stubborn by nature and I will work to find a way to make your recovery permanent--and then, perhaps, we will find the key to saving your world," Inga replies. Tall orders...but hey, what's one more world to save right? Inga looks startled, then vaguely annoyed. "I'm sorry, I must go. I'll speak to you again soon. Damn goats," she grumbles, then pulls out a golden ball that fits in her hand..... and disappears in golden light. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' There is a pause. A long, horrible pause when Ainsley says the name. The dreaded name. All other voices fade to the background, and Ophelia stares at the lizard-ess. One can see the trickle of tears rolling down her cheek, now, evaporating before they strike the ground. Her breath released in a long, slow stream of cold fog; Creeping along her own chin, leaving frost as it touches her black shirt. ".. Eddie..." She murmurs. Hands curl to fists, teeth click and grind. The stain slowly beginning to spread down from her eyes, like running mascara- Before she grimaces, and clutches at her chest. Panting hard, pressed back against the bar top. Dizzy and confused, finally seeming to notice the splatter of ichor as it drips across her bare arm. She sniffs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Another shuddering breath, the cold fog dissipating from her lips. A long, slow breath, before she pushes herself upright. Head down once more, black ichor dripping from her chin. But the running mascara look retreats once more as she keeps her eyes closed. "That.. name. I almost know it. I.." Another deep breath. "Mm. No. No, you.." Eyes open at last. Bright white, fading to a normal gaze. "You two shouldn't be anywhere near me. Anywhere. I'll do this. If you say there's something at the bottom of the Sea - then that's where I'll look first." She frowns, darkly. 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:''' "Look at my face." Ainsley points up to the gauze patch. "Do I look like I give a damn if I get hurt trying to save you? I'm really sick of watching people get consumed by tragedy, so you better have a really convincing argument to keep me out of this besides 'I need to do this on my own.'" She furrows her brow and stares hard at Ophelia. That determined look is sharper. This lizard woman has seen a lot, it's clear in her face, in the gentle strength of her emotions. "I'm listening." Frooown. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia's tight frown remains; But she breaks contact first. Eyes seeking out her sneakers, now, hands on her lap as she speaks. In tangent! ".. My parents were part of the first rebellion." She begins. "They marched with Riggnarok. He was pushing them back, victory after victory. When the Sea of Black Tears was opened, they drank deep. It was their chance to break the back of the Coil. They took the power of the Black Tears, and the demons where shattered. Pushed back to the edge of the brutal lands. It was the Black Tear Rebellion, and it was unstoppable. And then.." She returns Ainsley's gaze, now. Flat and empty. ".. and then they turned on one another. Human- Tear Drinker against human. If they died, they did not rest, but rose once again beneath that hateful black water. The rebellion was crushed, and the demons swept forward again to seal the waters before it could drown everything. Those who did not serve in the -pleasure palaces- or slaved in the mines? Died. Or lived as we did, hunted and dying. All I knew of my parents was their betrayal." "You've found a way to weaken the Black Tears. Somehow, you claim you got -me- back, even if .. only for a little while. But if you follow me - if you get caught, and turned? .. There is nothing left. Whatever you've found, whatever you think you know, it will be twisted." 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:''' Ainsley's serious attitude remains. She listens carefully, and comes to understand what this means. When she hears about what the Sea actually is, she lids her eyes and her frown neutralizes. She considers the consequences of abusing the power the Tears could grant to an individual. And then she speaks. "I have nothing to fear from the Black Tears." Such a confident response. She elaborates, "They were winning because they had a strong foe to direct their wrath toward. They were winning because the Tears fed on their desperation, their anger. But the in-fighting was inevitable. They weren't prepared for what it actually was, and forgot themselves along the way. They weren't prepared to fight it within themselves, to conquer it, to understand that this sorrow and fury can be turned into a weapon of a different shape. That is how I did this to you. Hope. Connection. The desire to fight tragedy, to create good in this world, because I do feel sorrow, and anger, for what I see nearly every day. I want to understand what happened, and how to bring you back from it, because I believe it can be done, because it would mean that the pain could be reversed." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Forgotten Ophelia sits there a moment in awkward silence; Generally she was never this -talkative-, but when did she ever get the chance? The moment she opened her mouth at camp, that stupid bitch Lita was getting on her case about her tainted heritage. She listens to Ainsley go on about how much she understands; How little she has to fear. And, at last, Ophelia's chin dips. "Atop the Sea of Black Tears lies the skull of a Titan; The first victims of its siren call." She murmurs, before she looks back up again. A single ichor tear working its way down the side of her nose. ".. If you think you're ready, then we'll head for the brutal lands tonight. Can you meet me outside this city?" It's a lie, of course. No one was ready for the Sea of Black Tears. And Ophelia? Ophelia had every intention of ditching her 'friends'. To keep them safe - from themselves, if she had too. 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:''' Ainsley frowns again. She stares at the woman for a good long silence, to make her feelings fairly clear in the following moment. She tells Ophelia, "I will be going there with or without you, so running off on your own is pointless." She doesn't directly call out the lie, of course. She waves it off and rises to her feet. "I won't stop you. But you aren't going to find answers until you let others in." And then she waves at Ophelia once and walked off, evidently having better things to do than to argue this point. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia doesn't speak when the magical lizard begins moving away. Her dark frown says it all, before she goes back to watching her own hands. And then they curl into fists once more as she tumps the table. Ainsley had the -answer-. Couldn't she see how dangerous it was to go anywhere near the Sea until her cure was finished? Silent and brooding, Ophelia -plots- to save her... well. To save Ainsley. 
}}

4719/Heaven Laid In Tears

2016-10-26T04:13:29Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/10/25 |Location=Crystal Valley |Synopsis=Operation FOO goes into effect. Ophelia gets curb stomped. |Cast of Characters=525, 975, 151, 42, 38..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/25
|Location=Crystal Valley
|Synopsis=Operation FOO goes into effect.
Ophelia gets curb stomped.
|Cast of Characters=525, 975, 151, 42, 385, 7, 946
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Tucked within the Crystal Valley is a small grove of crystals that should be familiar to Ophelia. They'd met here before, among the reflections of the past and the future possibilities. Today it is Inga that sits alone, staring into the reflections. She sits with her staff across her lap, dressed in a plain, long black dress with the usual talismans and adornments, long white hair braided down her back. The reflection in the crystal shows Inga sitting in a similar position--but that is where the similarities end. The mirror image sits alone in a large room in an overly long white dress, her legs barely visible beneath the folds of flowing fabric. Her hair is intricately braided, beyond what she could accomplish on her own--especially as it is revealed her hands are chained to the wall. Her fingernails have been allowed to grow so long they curl into talons lacquered in red and gold. The reflection-Inga raises her head to meet the gaze of Inga herself...but there is only a black blindfold concealing the eyes of the reflection. Inga looks to another crystal, another reflection. This image shows Inga weeping over the body of a man with white hair and beard, a familiar man, a pentacle and an iron hammer pendant around his neck. Inga lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping, head bowed under the strain of these visions. To someone like Ophelia, she glows with grief and suffering. The best way to tell a lie is to make it close to the truth. Inga suffers. She's put herself into a dark place to draw Ophelia to her. She prays to the gods their plan works. Let Ophelia not see those hidden by magic, waiting nearby. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It comes. A sigh of a guitar, a lonesome wail that shivers its way down through the crystal valley - the calling card of Doom. Tendrils of unnatural fog weave their way across the placid and clear waters, hovering above as if afraid to touch, afraid to kiss its purity. Fingers curl about the crystals further away, destroying sight and vision, somehow both distorting sound and increasing it. A sigh from Inga's slumped form would echo, pulled from place to place, before submerging itself beneath the rolling crush of DEATH METAL. The soft step of bare feet upon the hard ground. The patter of liquid striking the earth. The glow of blue wake candles upon the head of the Six Stringed Sorrow, as Ophelia is practically -summoned-. The ache of a heart, the bleeding of grief; It calls to her blackened, stoned heart as nothing can. A banshee from the thickening fog, her chin lowered, her steps swaying - blind with her own weeping. ".. Inga..." She murmurs, blackened claws pulling away from the guitar. The hammer of DEATH METAL continues unabatted, summoned to being, as she reaches out for the broken seeress. Black lips a thin line of .. misery. There is no mock joy in this victory - only the knowledge that the inevitable has occured ".. I'm here, Inga... I'm here to stop your bleeding heart.." 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:'''     Ainsley is here. In addition to the magic applied to her in order to conceal her presence, she is adorned with a large array of runes and lines across all of her visible scales, and possibly even under her clothing by the looks of things. Before the spell concealed her presence, it was clear that she was prepared like a true Wizard for something very big that she would need a certain amount of preparation for. The lizard woman knelt in her spot, just out of view behind a convenient crystal jutting out of the ground, her hands clasped over her her lap and her tail looped around her like a circle of its own.     Her eyes focused on Inga, her Arcane Sight fixated on the seer to take in the emotional affect, and to help her with some of the final touches of her spell. This is the component that will help her reach into Ophelia's being, the part that will let her communicate with the heart and soul of the sorrowful wraith and act as the conduit for emotional power of the others. She isn't even sure if this will work... but she understands that it plays into how her magic works just right.     Ophelia feeds on sorrow. Hate. Despair. She will grab ahold of that rotting heart and show it that other feelings exist, other reasons to live can drive an individual. While she tries to think of the best way to direct the magic, she closes her eyes, deactivating her Sight and remaining dormant and eerily still so that she doesn't disturb the enchantment that keeps her presence hidden from view.     When Ophelia's presence is known, she opens her eyes again and fixates her sight on Drowned Ophelia, seeking the other end of the connection. Preparing and waiting for her moment, like the coiled serpent that she is, a venom born of hope and connection boiling in her soul. All she needs is to get close and lay a hand on Ophelia, a fact already relayed to any allies waiting for the trap to be sprung. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren waits some distanc e away, ready to teleport in when called. He's all for Inga and Ainsley's plan -- if it works, it will be far better than having to kill Ophelia dead.     Since he's not that knowledgeable about the magic Inga and Ainsly are using, thoough, he's relegated to a combat and utility belt role. If things go south he's ready to fight Ophelia's minions, and if they go some other weird direction he he hopes he has the right tools. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' In the hopes of simplifying the issue of concealing her, Yuna is still in civilian clothes - a black turtleneck sweater with a red jumper over it, rather than any kind of uniform. Elner is staying close to her as Yuna remains crouched behind one of the crystals, almost huddling underneath the spell which conceals her - as if hunkering down to minimize her physical size would make the spell more effective at hiding her. Or maybe she's huddling against the gloom and sorrow seeping from the crystals themselves. Although she dares not make any outward noise, Yuna is 'reciting' lyrics to some of the songs she knows - just shaping the words with her lips, not propelling any air through her mouth to give voice to them. It's something she occasionally does to fight stage fright, a charm of sorts to steady herself before a performance or other appearance when she's less than confident in how it'll go. Needless to say, 'trying to stop a girl whose sorrow and pain are basically weaponized' goes a little beyond stage fright -and the nature of this place doesn't help matters very much. Elner's thoughts are the robo-faerie's own; one may safely presume that they're of a more tactical (and less emotional) nature than Yuna's own. And the rest of the Matrix of Light is a fairly long distance away from here; Jiina, Marina, and Erina can't help with Yuna's intended role ... but if things fall apart and combat can't be avoided, Elner is ready to call them in as needed. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone was here too given what Ophelia did to her organic remains? Twisting them into Flesh Doll? Then Flesh Doll was used to hurt people she cares about? She was totally in on this and she had been in contact with Inga about this. She knew that Ainsley would need cover and that's somthing she could do as Kotone wasn't alone yet she was waiting behind a thermoptic cameo tarp with several drones. They were mindless and hopefully the Tear Drinkers couldn't pick those up She simply would wait for the signal now and she was ready to spring into action the drones were a trump card really she herself would b e one hell of a diversion to Flesh Doll if she was around and if not she could do a pretty good job to help restrain someone should it be needed. 

:'''{{#var:946|White Berserker (946)}} has posed:'''     It's at this convinent point that White Berserker materializes out from the aether near Ainsley. She was informed of something going to be going on, and for that reason she's here with the Bridal Chest at the ready, aiming to smash whatever might get into her Master's way. There's a low groan as she takes a few steps, getting herself ready for what may come.     There are a couple people here that the Berserker Class Servant knows, Yuna and Staren of people. And there's Kotone as well. "Mmm." comes a low groan again, brushing the bangs out of her eyes so she can get a clearer vision. "Let's... be ready..." she whispers, slowly taking a couple steps. The servant was ready just in case her Master says smash. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' The Seer turns toward Ophelia when she hears her approach, tears shining on her pale cheeks, despair in dark eyes. Inga walks a fine line. It is a very, very convincing performance of pain. "Release me from this...I can't stand the Knowing. I do not want to be chained to this future," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes pleading. When Ophelia moves closer, when she steps inside the unseen circle, Inga's eyes close. She raises her arms out at her sides, conducting an invisible chorus to crescendo--and lights shoot up from the stones, blood shed earlier rising up to help form the circle she and Ainsley had pre-made. All she had to do now was give it life. She floods the circles with anima. Runes drawn into the stones glow with energy, uncanny electricity buzzing through the air, setting hairs on end. The air is heavy with potent magic, thrumming with a pulse all it's own. As long as the circle holds, Ophelia isn't going anywhere. 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:'''     As the circle solidifies and light bursts up from it, Ainsley's own concealment enchantment fades. She squints at Ophelia, frowning at something she had seen. She isn't startled and doesn't react in reflex. Instead she reaches out with her left hand and outspreads her fingers, palm facing downward. She closes her hand, and the circle pulses, her mana holding the circle together. It would be very difficult to break it so long as the strange reptile was doing this, hidden to the side as she was.     "Now, Yuna," she vocalized through her magic to her ally, giving her the cue to begin distracting Ophelia with the cheerful or heartfelt sounds she so despises. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Can you feel that fire, scorching your soul?" Whispers the Queen of Tears, as she lifts her chin. Her smile is quiet and sad. The Six Stringed Sorrow fades away, a ghost in the wind, as she spreads her arms wide as if to draw Inga into her embrace. To draw her into the domain of Sorrow itself. "I'll put out your flames, Inga. You won't have to hurt like this ever again.." The ichor of the Black Tears rises around her, a miasma, twisting on itself - one part liquid, one part smoke. Pale blue arms move to curl about the Seer one last time- And then the lights go on. Crystals flare to life around the broken creature, and she draws back, confusion evident upon her features. She smears a palm against her eye, breath hitching as she steps back. The power about crackling against her affects, the Death Metal hesitating - mistepping. And then she refocuses, her bright eyes turning towards Inga. And chin dips, the tendrils of black tears thrashing. "-Betrayal-" She whispers. And Death Metal HAMMERS to life once more. Quickly, now! THEMESONG SHIFT: Lita Ford - 'Betrayal' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_E0e_Q4i7Gs 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' o/~    Uninterrupted feelings are my guidepost     From where I crouched here, I'll go to a continuing tomorrow, with you Yuna begins singing even as she steps out of the spell of concealment, and Elner triggers her transformation at the same moment - a swirl of wind and light that starts at Yuna's feet and rises upwards around her body, forming not only her Light Suit, but a couple of extra pieces of equipment - specifically, a pair of small but efficient speakers, hanging at either side of her waist from the belt she's wearing over her Light Suit, and a sleek-looking microphone which materializes in Yuna's hand. No sooner have the speakers materialized on Yuna's figure than the instrumental backing for her chosen song starts playing from them, a bridge leading from the first two lines into the body of the song. o/~    No matter how many times I get lost when I can't read the wind's direction     The image I always go by isn't much, I think o/~    Even though I often see days when I smile through tears,     My feelings overflow to the point of running off the map Ophelia is already engaging in her own musical onslaught; Yuna winces a little at the Death Metal kicking in, but she stands her ground - physically and mentally, spiritually ... o/~    Everything is tied together ... ! ... and artistically. Elner actually cranks up the volume a little on Yuna's mobile karaoke rig as the blonde idol/magical girl/paladin launches into the first chorus - like an old-fashioned battle of the bands, simply trying to out-music Ophelia. But it's not just a matter of raw musical force; Yuna is focusing her heart and her will into the song, emphasizing her feelings of togetherness and optimism. o/~    Today's the day that's changing into the best future     Making it a place to be proud even of yesterday's tears     The pain that we shared, those dreams we discussed,     Now let's hold them closer in both hands, together 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren appears nearby in a flash of light. "Not betrayal. Saving you." He unclips something from his waist and then is suddenly charging, swinging a glowing purple energy sword at the tendrils to try and cut them! 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is making sure she's ready this is certainly is not a time to jump the gun she waits cloaked she's not sure about the music but she does her best to ignore it. She's really come to have little love for Death Metal after the issues with the Tear Drinkers. Yuna's song is a very welcome change a as she waits ffor the signal to go she knows it's almost time and maybe just maybe she'll start to sing herself which could be a side effect of haging about Steven and the Crystal Gems. Kotone's drones don't move but she does she moves cloaked for the moment trying to close in on Drowned Ophelia and she's in and has her combat knife out as she goes to town on the tentacles because? Well shes' got reasons to really, really /hate/, tentacles. Also her spider drone turrets are moving for Inga once Kotone is away to plant themselves and give her some cover should it be needed. 

:'''{{#var:946|White Berserker (946)}} has posed:'''     The circle is there and Yuna's starting to sing and there she goes. It doesn't take the Berserker too long to know what needs to be done and she groans lowly again. The Bridal Chest sparks and off she runs towards Ophelia, "Get... Away..." she groans out, the Berserker class servant's weapon is raised, charging in those boots! She makes a loud scream and barrels towards the Drowned One and, as soon as she gets close, she lets the weapon dissapear to grab at Ophelia to try and hold her still for her Master     "You... are mine...." she scowls, "YOu... won't escape...." 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga backs away from Ophelia, having no desire to be impaled again. That would put a hitch in their plan. Inga was sure they would need as much power as they could muster, and Inga had a part to play still. Using her staff to aid her, the witch pulls herself to her feet, facing Ophelia. "No, Ophelia. Not betrayal. You were trying to help me, I know...now we will help you. Save you from yourself--purge you of the black tears!" she says, Yuna's music blooming around them, suffusing the air with /hope/. Upbeat rhthms and major chords clash with the driving power and discordant guitars as magic swirls around them. A true clash of wills. "Let go of the pain Ophelia...the pain does not free you--it makes you it's slave! Accept that the pain is there, but do not let it drown you. I SEE you still, the girl that loved. The girl that only wanted to be accepted. She is within you and I will pull her out!" she shouts, opening her third-eye wide. The wyrd explodes before her, layer upon layer, path upon path, twisting, turning, overlapping and intertwining. An overwhelming tapestry, writhing like a living beast in a fathomless sea. Inga must swim through it, sort through the strands and follow them back...find the one, pulsing thread...find the core that is Ophelia. And they must bring it to the surface. 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:'''     "The undoing of your sorrow will be your very desire to spread it to others. You have opened up the connection, and now here I stand."     Ainsley rises from her kneeling position before she says this. The words ring out when she slips into the chaos with a practiced grace. She moves like a ghost, a gust of wind. She then reaches out and tries to physically rest her hand across Drowned Ophelia's face while she speaks those words. The runes on her body light up as the connection is established... she tries to strengthen the signal that Inga is projecting and direct it to where the humanity in Ophelia can be found. Like a lance of white hot light, the sensation of Hope and Comfort and Connection rolls off of her, and even the blue in her eyes turns to white, her feathers glowing, the colors in her body becoming oversaturated, her silhouette blurring.     "This is an intervention, Ophelia. You are addicted to a darkness that smothers the other vital parts of humanity. Sorrow deserves its place, but now you must be reminded of the rest."     And she lays into the Black Tears with every ounce of prepared Good Feelings she's got. It will not make Drowned Ophelia happy...     "You have spread so much pain. It is time to rest now. Find understanding in others now."     Her voice resonates through the air as the runes all over her scales burst to life with blue light. The spell is fully active.     Damn, that is bright. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The snarling, broken CREATURE that is Drowned Ophelia twists her head back as Yuna begins THAT MUSIC. The Queen of Tears grits her teeth, twisting her head towards the -newest- threat just as Ainsley shows herself. Just as the full depth of the trap becomes evident. Well - first thing's first! She lashes her hand aside at Inga; And the ectoplasmic Black Tears respond, as brittle and razor sharp as glass as they look to tear the Seeress from this world once more in a glorious rip of dea- SHATTERED. Staren's glowing sword rips through the tendrils, Ophelia twisted around by the blow. She pivots, claws swiping towards- CLANG! Kotone's knife catches the edge, blocking that brutal hurt from ever happening. And still that MUSIC. That warm, fuzzy, hopeful -thing- that is twisting up the sound of her hateful grief. "AUGH! SHUT UP YOU STUPID LITTLE-!" She hisses at Yuna. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Then she lifts her wrist to her own mouth, teeth bared as she prepares to open a vein; A suicide hobby. Release the agony of - ZAP! She shrieks, hateful and thrashing, as the White Berserker grabs her up. HUGS HER EVEN. There is madness in her eyes, madness and hate as she stares down at the creature that holds her. The patter of tears fall from her cheek, hissing and bubbling where they strike living skin; Sorrow can burn like acid, it can etch itself into the very soul if left unchecked. Those who have dealt with depression know just how dangerous it can be, and here it is, oozing out in living metaphor. The miasma of Black Tears rising once more, curling over her shoulders like spider's limbs - preparing to tear -into- the Berserker. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Save me?" She spits, towards Staren. Then giggles madly, the laughter choked off into a snarl as the White Berserker Bride squeezes tighter. "I'll pull apart your -life-, thread by thread, and let you see just what -living- means." Eyes for Kotone now, wild and mad. "And -you-. I've already taken -your- heart, tin can; Don't you want to be whole once more?" And finally for Berserker. She's suddenly calm. Frozen. Smiling wicked and dark, even as trickles of the black ichor flow down her black lips. "Escape? No.. I'm going right.. inside.. -you-.." The 'spider limbs' flex out, glinting as they sharpen, ready to plunge into the Servant's back- 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' And INGA TO THE RESCUE. She screams, twisting her head aside. Squinting into that glowing third eye as she spits her hate in a wordless shriek, before hissing, the spider limbs losing their vigor beneath Yuna's HOPEFUL SONG. But the thread is found - her broken heart. Cold but not still, beating in time with the rhythmn of her maddening grief - the power of a misery unleashed. But if Inga laid the spear, it is Ainsley who drives it home. Her forehead is cold, cold as death itself, and she twists her head as if to bite those very hands that try so hard to save her. Any hurt she can spread, -any- pain she can share. -Anything-. But there is no hurt here, in the crystal valley - the pure ground will not take her taint. She turns her head as the brightness grows, the thumping heart in her chest glowing as -happiness-.. as -forgiveness-.. as -hope- wind their way through her darkness like molten poison. Her scream rises, and for one moment the broken thing knows -fear-. Thumpa, thump.. Thumpa, thump goes her stone heart. Thumpa... thump.... thumpa...... th... um.... p.. An explosion. A concussive force, shoving outwards, black glass sent flying in all directions. The last kiss of the Queen of Tears as she is poisoned by the very thing she so sought to destroy. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' o/~    I still don't know where this place is, but     I'm sure this single-minded feeling won't stop o/~    Even the road before my eyes doesn't indicate its destination     I discovered that day when you and I could meet ... Yuna's full focus right now is on her singing; her eyes are closed to assist her concentration, and it's probably just as well. She doesn't see the struggle unfolding, and while she hears Ophelia snarling at her, it's easier for Yuna to shut that out and focus on the song, trusting in her allies to keep Drowned Ophelia contained. o/~    Let's connect to tomorrow -- And then the explosion, the shower of black glass shards. Yuna isn't ready for that; Elner *is*, though, and a shimmering field of golden light flares into existence, a force barrier intercepting the shards which would have struck Yuna and depriving them of forward momentum. Some of the glass shards simply tumble to the ground, others carry enough inertia to bounce back in Ophelia's general direction before gravity lays claim to them as well. And Yuna, slightly rattled by Ophelia's scream and the explosion which followed it, just keeps singing. o/~    Today's the day that the best power is born     Because we're in a place where yesterday's passion sparkles     Colliding and cuddling, let our bonds grow stronger     And resound to the sky's edge, even more 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' There it is, pure and bright and heart's-blood red, thrumming with the music of Ophelia's soul. A core thread of her wyrd. A bright moment from which others have woven themselves--her heart, cold, will flood again with the myriad emotions that make up existence. Inga nods to Ainsley, feeling it when Ainsley delivers the gift they've so carefully prepared. Every times Ophelia had killed her, mained her, kidnapped her...all worth it. All that painful research and soul searching culminates into this moment. Many had suffered at her hands...and now, that would cease. The dark glass through which Ophelia's soul had interacted with the world shatters, the blast knocking Inga back, shards sinking into her flesh--sevel in her stomach, one in the chest, two in her left arm and one embedded in her cheek. She'd been helping to fuel the circle, not her own wards. Inga falls backward, gasping, blood soaked hands reaching for her chest and her stomach, using her right hand to pull the slippery shards from her flesh as she chants the words to her healing spell--because if she's hurting this badly, others will be worse. Ainsley was closer to her than Inga...and as far as she knows, Ainsley doesn't come back if killed. 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:'''     Ainsley isn't about to falter when this dark creature experiences pain like this. She knows that if she does, someone here was gonna get seriously hurt. She knew she must be someone to depend on. She knew there was only two way this was going to end: Victory, or complete failure. There was no more room for failure, not when she's seen what Ophelia can do.     She is like a glowing, reptilian angel smiting a demon, the pure emotion rippling through the air... and then washing down like a soft rain after the explosive force. Ainsley is thrown backward, the impact cracking the magic circle beneath them. She slams into the ground and tumbles, letting out a loud animal-like squeal of pain as she quickly pushes herself up to her hands and knees. She had taken the majority of the blast being as close as she was. The last sting of Drowned Ophelia stabbed into her body in a couple places, leaving shards that hissed and bubbled in her flesh, and the caress of one of those biting shards had left a sizzling groove along her face. She expels the sensation of acidic sorrow quickly with her inner positivity, but this day was going to leave a lasting mark on her. Several new scars already forming where the deadly black had struck her.     Her nerves scream at her, and her body trembles, but she doesn't pass into sweet unconsciousness. She chokes and gags and slumps to a seat there on the ground, hands still in the dirt and grass.     Tears roll down her face, the emotional vestiges reminding her of a long, frustrating life without answers that she had endured. She looks alright, not actively crying, apparently trying to regain her composure with slow, deep, shaky breaths. Then she pulls the more stubborn shards out of herself, one at a time, a physical representation of her rejection of what Ophelia represents: An aimless dark pit, where she would never have found the light she craved. A place she almost fell into, once. She growls and hisses against her own pain.     She looks messed up. She's going to need that spell, because she's losing more blood than she might realize, growing steadily weaker...     Until, healing or not, she nearly slumps over, her strength wavering under the stress of her magic, the moment and the impact.     She holds her consciousness, because her spell isn't done. 

:'''{{#var:946|White Berserker (946)}} has posed:'''     Berserker's holding on tight towards Ophelia, not wanting to let this thing go, otherwise her Master would be mad. "Right... inside?" she eyes the wicked smile and a frown is given... those limbs are given a look but she holds herself tightly to Ophelia. The white dressed Servant's eyes go wide as she holds steady, waiting for the impact... but there, fortunately, isn't one. At least, not directly...     That explosion happens and that concussive force threatens to rip White Berserker off of that sadness-imbued woman... the black glass embeds itself into the Servant, a loud groan of pain is given as more prana is drained to try and heal those wounds, shifting a bit to hopefully try and prevent more hitting her Master. "You... shall not... hurt my Master!" she growls in pain, clutching tightly to Ophelia... 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     With Kotone fblocking Ophelia's attack, Staren's free to plunge the beam sword into-- Oh right. Trying not to kill her this time. Staren hesitates awkwardly for a split second, then as the miasma of tears forms spider legs, he tries to cut them, instead...     Staren's share of the glassplosion sends him tumbling back, glass lodged in his armor, some components damaged. He sits up from the ground where he fell. "She exploded? Did we literally kill her with kindness? Ainsley! Stay with us!" He pulls thos advanced bandages from his bag, plucking bits of glass free and covering the wounds. "Hang in there!" 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa blade catches claws and she looks right at them. "Don't like Jpop? Maybe we could get some Jbabypop idol death metal?" She's just trying to stay alive she lustens to Ophelia cackl and lose it. "I am me, the shell doesn't matter!" That's all Kotone has to say on that as she moves attempting to bring up the blade again and Ophelia might notice Kotone's a hell of a lot stronger than she used or she's figured out how to use her powers a hell of a lot better. It's likely the other the Turrets meanwhile will cover Inga as best they can taking shots and she's also very worried about Ainsley too both she and Inga are puging a lot of souls into this attempt. "Everything ends even nightmares, Ophelia." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The flickering shadows of Sorrow rise like a storm cloud - and slowly, achingly begin to dissipate. And in Berserker's arms, a silouette in the evaporating cloud? .. A woman. Long brown hair, pale skin. Black shirt, torn jeans. Spiked bracelets. Ophelia. Her heart is still glowing, pulsing, and somewhere within - a tooth on a chain? A necklace? It slowly fades away, her heart still. Her eyes are wide, confusion and fear written on her features. Twin swords jangle on either side of her hips, useless in this situation. But it does not appear to be the GIANT LIGHTNING BRIDE that scares her so - it's her own body. She's gasping, mewling, head thrashing as she fails to draw breath. Drowning, even as her sneakers kick and thrash in the air, eyes wide, the veins on her face and pale limbs standing out in strain. There is nothing she can do, held in White Berserker's grasp, surrounded by enemies/friends/saviors/assassins. No ichor; No miasma. No DEATH METAL QUEEN. -Human-. As Kotone said - even nightmares must end. NEW IMAGE http://tinyurl.com/znmeyol But that magic is not done, even as the circle cracks. For Ainsley and Inga can -feel- that something has gone wrong. The poison of kindess slithering through the ethereal threads, past -this- Ophelia, flowing back towards the Sea of Black Tears, far over the horizon. And in its depths, something -else- glows; A sputtering light, a flexing hand in the darkness, quickly smothered beneath the endless, freezing grip of the black waters.. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga feels the misery and sorrow from the shards trying to seep into her soul, the oily blackness, the dark tentacles trying to get inside... It's a damned familiar feeling. It brings her back to another blackness, another dark madness trying to get its filthy fingers into her brain...a man without a face, ichor dripping from an ear... The black tears try to overwhelm.... Inga shrugs it off. She tells it, in the most appropriate words, to BUZZ OFF. "Our wisdom flows so sweet..." she murmurs, crawling to Ainsley. There's plenty of blood to work with, no need to open a vein now. She lays her hand upon Ainsley, crimson hand-print sinking in to infuse her with life energy to help her heal and give her strength. Inga looks toward Ophelia, crawling toward her. "Shhh...Ophelia, breathe..." she says, but she knows something in not quite right. There's something stretching further, something...deeper... what went wrong? Inga looks to Ainsley, eyes wide. She shakes her head, then looks back to Ophelia. They'd done /something/! 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' o/~    Something akin to self-satisfied pride     Was getting worn down under a heel     I recognized when it was that I stumbled     If I turn and look there, there's a smile     I won't pull away from the hand that clapped me     On the back; let's start running together If Yuna is aware that Drowned Ophelia is on the cusp of being no more - that their efforts have succeeded, and Ophelia is free from the Sea of Black Tears as Inga and Ainsley had been planning on - she doesn't let that knowledge stop her from singing. She knows that the explosion and the shower of 'glass' meant *some*thing, though - and where before, she was singing in clear defiance of the Sea of Black Tears and its vessel, her song now is more supportive, encouraging - strengthening and reinforcing. Yuna may fit most of the description of a magical girl; however, she doesn't truly possess any real magic. That is, not unless you count the 'magic' that even mundane music represents - songs that bring people together, that support their hearts and connect their spirits; music that conveys emotions in a form independent of conscious language, then adds words to give those emotions a clearer form. o/~    Any time is changing into the best future     Making it a place to be proud even of yesterday's tears     The pain that we shared, those dreams we discussed,     Now let's hold them close in both hands     Surpassing the wind that blows through my breast     Colliding and cuddling, let our bonds grow stronger     And resound to the sky's edge, more and more with you And Yuna's emotions and spirit are all bent towards helping drag Ophelia back out of the Black Tears' clutches .... never to kill her, never to destroy her, but to open the path for her to live free of the Tears' influence. If Ophelia can hear one thing as she hovers on the edge between life and death, Yuna wants her to hear a song that leads her away from oblivion, and welcomes her once more among the living. And *that* drives her song through the final chorus. Only once she's finished singing does Yuna open her eyes, taking a moment - oh so brief - to catch her breath and see where things are, see if she needs to switch songs and keep singing ... 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:'''     "..."     Ainsley wheezes and seats herself on the ground. She turns her attention toward Ophelia, as her wounds are mended enough that she doesn't have to worry about passing out from the pain or any other factors. She looks at Inga, grimacing in sympathy but finding little to say. She knows that Inga would just return to life if she expired, so she doesn't worry about it beyond the empathy of seeing a friend in a bad state.     "Berserker, let her go. We've done what we could," she tells the Servant. She reaches out and rests a hand on Inga's shoulder meaningfully, and relays with a bit of telepathy, another perk of her magic, "<It seems there is more to this story than first appeared. At least we know a good way to neutralize her power for a while...>" 

:'''{{#var:946|White Berserker (946)}} has posed:'''     Berserker continues to hold onto her target, watching what's going on with her in her hands... she tilts her head and frowns, making sure that she isn't going to harm anyone else as her Master gives the command. She kneels down, slowly lying Ophelia on the ground and backing away, giving her some space just in case. She looks between Inga, Yuna, Staren, Kotone and her master, tilting her head. She knows nothing's okay right now, that sky is proof of it...     "Be... careful..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia is laid on the ground, and her hands immediatly go to her throat. Gagging, and coughing as she curls in on herself; Black ichor comes from her mouth, sticky as tar, settling and twisting on itself atop the crystals. Unable to sink, and unable to rise, it simply takes the form of the Six Stringed Sorrow. Then shivers and evaporates away, unable to hold itself without the maddening grief. The young woman herself stumbles back to her feet, knees practically knocking together as she tries to keep her balance. Wiping her nose on her knuckle before she pulls the twin blades from her belt. Panting, her voice hoarse. "Wh-" She coughs. "Where is it? What is this? What happened to the temple?!" She's turning, blades held at chest level, trying to keep an eye on everyone at once while simultaneously holding her balance. It's not going so well. Inga-Ainsley-Berserker-Staren-Kotone-Yuna, and back again. The points of the blades wavering as her eyes keep trying to drift closed. "Who are you?!" The blades finally settling towards - Staren! Or Kotone. Back to Staren! And his glowing blade! And back to Yuna. Swaying on her feet. ".. What are you -doing-?" 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is lowing her weapon a bit now she has to make sure it's over she peers at Ophelia. She lowers her weapon but doesn't put it away she needs to be certain it's all right she'll notput her guard guard down just yet. She does take enjoyment from Yuna's song though she sees why she's managed to get notice in the multiverse. She looks to White Berserker nodding. "Right we should be caregfful."She pauses for a moment at Ophelia and lowers her wepaon now. "Easy, easy you have had a hell of bad trip, Ophelia." She fully puts away her weapon now. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' For now, Yuna lowers the microphone, giving Ophelia a friendly (and nonthreatening) smile. "My name's Yuna; I was asked to help rescue a friend of ours." The fact that Ophelia wasn't a friend *yet* is just a detail of past tense vs. future tense, not something she's going to worry about overmuch. Yuna tucks the microphone into a loop on her belt, a loop which seems designed to hold it, and keeps her hands visible now that they're both empty. She *could* say more ... but Yuna's probably going to let Inga take the lead, at least for now. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga is healing--but it hurts like hell. Another thing she is getting used too, which is...messed up, to say the least. She nods to Ainsley. "It will buy us time," she replies quietly. Inga rises, leaning more heavily on her staff than usual. She limps slowly toward Ophelia. "Ophelia...it's alright. It's alright we are here to help you," she says, trying to sooth her. She'll use a spell if she must, but Ophelia's been through enough magic today. Oh, gods, she's forgotten everything. It is not what they had wanted. This was not the result they had planned for... but it was something. Inga represses a sigh. Oh, how they'd wanted this to be over...but the path is not yet at an end. Just a small reprieve. Inga looks to Ainsley, her eyes expressive of her disappointment. They'd need to discuss this later. Right now...what is to be done with her? "You had an accident Ophelia...you haven't been yourself. You probably do not remember. It's alrigt...we'll help you. I'm Inga," a woman alarmingly covered in blood with wounds that are healing before their eyes. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "...You don't remember us?" Staren deactivates his sword and stands. "I'm Staren. We... we were trying to save you from what you'd become, but I guess there was some memory loss..." 

:'''{{#var:946|White Berserker (946)}} has posed:'''     Berserker's just here, standing near Ophelia. She's unarmed right now but... she was unfamiliar with this situation and what happened. She just holds her place and stares at Ophelia as everyone else introduces themselves for a possible second time. She tilts her head a bit, trying to understand what might be going on.     "Berserker...." she starts, "Master... is helping..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "A friend?" Ophelia looks even more confused than ever, her brows drawing down over her thin nose as she stares at Yuna. Watching the heavily armored woman - put a microphone back up. What. The. ****? She slowly straightens up, spinning her swords about and sheathing them in one smooth motion along either hip. Her focus on Staren for a moment, that same bewildered expression. She drops her gaze towards his tail. Then over towards Berserker. And finally to Staren, before pointing a finger at - White Berserker. "You want me to believe I'm friends with.. a -demon-?" And to Kotone, she draws back a few steps. She hasn't pulled weapons yet, but! ".. No, that's.. I don't remember any of you." Eyes towards Inga and Ainsley. "And I -know- I don't know you. Who sent you? The Emperor? I .. " A pause, and her eyes travel back to Staren. Between that strange cat-thing and Kotone. ".. The temple. There was .. someone there. A man.." Her frown deepens, even as she rubs her temple. A quiet trickle of black ichor sliding down her cheek. ".. what happened?" She finally asks, calming down. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' "You do know us...but you don't remember. You have been...very sick, Ophelia. Give us time, and we shall explain. Tell you what we know. But now you should rest. You've been through a lot," she says. "We were not sent by the emperor and there are no demons here. We only want to help you," she says, looking briefly to the trickle of black ichor. That is not encouraging. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' "It's all right, Ophelia," Yuna says, still smiling gently. "You were a different person for a while, so you might still be confused .. but we're not going to hurt you." She steps closer, crouching, and holding a hand out to Ophelia - palm tilted up so it's visible, and it's clear she's not hiding anything, but otherwise angled to shake hands, or just clasp hands briefly with Ophelia. "It's good to meet the real you at last." 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren smiles. "I could be a friend, if you want me to." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Forgotten Ophelia frowns once more, looking towards Inga and Ains. Momentarily distracted from the faint shadow of memories in her mind - and in her heart. She then looks to Yuna, and down at the proffered hand. Back to Yuna. A hesitation- And then she clasps hands. Wrist to wrist. "Hail and kill." She greets, that confused frown on her face. Before waving a hand. ".. Come on. I'll.." She glances around at the crystal valley. ".. show you how to avoid the Coils patrols. If they come out this far.." 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa has put her weapon away at this poind she nods. "IF that is the case then I'm afraid. You need time to heal as Inga said we'll explain more when you can recover a bit first. You had a hell of a day." She notices the ichor, and wonders maybe they will have to take out the sea entirely to stop it's curse? 
}}

4691/No One by My Side

2016-10-17T19:53:24Z

MiserEnoch:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/17
|Location=Crystal Valley
|Synopsis=Ophelia goes to visit an old friend
They sit down for a nice chat, some tea, and crumpets!

$%@& no, what do you think happens?

|Cast of Characters=975, 930
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The pathway to the Digital world was strewn with the reminders of the D-Reapers affects; Dust drawn from a virtual wind, sending faint brown streams across this place. And yet, as hope creeps back when the fear and horror are gone, small blades of grass were once more finding their way back to this place. We say were. For something else finds its way here - a figure. Her pale blue skin covered by the strands of the Black Tears, the faint shift of a tendriled collar about her neck. The soft patter of ichor upon the ground as it falls from her chin, staining and withering the grass it touches. Drowned Ophelia - but no entourage, this time. Eyes half lidded as she glides slowly, no breath passing her black lips. Almost as if caught in some faint trance - or a predator catching the faint wiff of blood and injury. Who knows what drives the Queen of Tears? For sorrow comes in so many different forms, and as always there is the faint shiver of DEATH METAL in the air about her. THEMESONG: MirrorThrone - 'No One By My Side' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gr0icgH_c9E 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' While no one activelly opposed the roaming humanoid, some digimon actually noticed her!. A message was sent to Alden, and while he made his way there, another digimon decided to approach the visitor. A large lion man, wearing what seems to be the typical coat and hat associated with japanese teen delinquents at schools, (and a short blade on his belt, but that item is forgotten) approaches the stranger, "Hello." rumbles the tall creature. The voice sounds... a bit odd, like two people speaking simultaneously. "Are you lost?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The swaying creature paused as the digital lion man approaches, the half lidded gaze remaining locked somewhere on the horizon. Ophelia then tilts her head back, looking up towards the man's face, past the X-shaped scar on his chest. Claws twitch, the miasma of the Black Tears rising like black smoke. Lips split in two. White teeth, sharp and clean as a scalpel. "Everything's lost." She begins, placing the palm of her hand over her own face. Claws curling - a few lines of ichor drawn from self inflicted wounds. The patter of ebon tears sliding faster. "Everything is wrong." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion looks at the... humanoid? curiously, keeping a bit of distance as he sees the flexing claws, returning the gaze firmly. "Wrong? what do you mean?" he asks softly, tail sweeping behind nervously, something about this person is putting him nervous! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Claws draw downwards, leaving four faint lines on Ophelia's face; Her own black blood leaking from them as she stares at the Leomon, black lips split into a wide smile. The soft, broken giggling of the mad creature. "Why, you're still alive." She answers in singsong, before the smile fades away. Chin rising, palm open as she curls claws inwards - as if inviting. "Where is your master, monster? Where is your home and heart?" If she's aware of Alden coming - if she's aware just how much people have come to loathe her 'little visits' - no doubt she'd be pleased as punch! 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion digimon tilts his head, eyes narrowed... is this thing related to the D-reaper?... "Are you related to... that monster?" he mumbles softly, ears twitching at the broken giggles. "I don't have a master, except lord Zhuqiaomon and the other sovereigns." he says, standing up straight, "And my home is this world, my heart as well." he says softly.      Meanwhile, a half awake Alden mumbles as he rushes ahead, after hearing rumours of a person with rock music following it!. At the moment, the form is quadruped, wolflike, but... not exactly like the one he used to wear. He is still making his way, but if Ophelia bothered to look, she might spot something trotting in their direction. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Monster..?" Begins Drowned Ophelia, and one can almost hear the voice drop to a purr. "What monster is this?" The tears that slide down her cheeks slow - they never stop, even now - but something else has caught her attention besides her own misery. That is, the potential misery of everyone else. One arm goes across her chest, the other used to cup and prop up her chin as she tilts her to the side. The sickened claws quietly flexing still - eager. "Aww. How adorable. You still think loyalty and fielty are worth a shit." Another broken giggle, before her voice lowers - softens. "So what you're telling me is - if I break this world, if I break your lord and sovereigns - I'll break the heart of everyone around them as well?" And then there's someone on the horizon! Eyes, so bright against the backdrop of the deep mascara and pale blue skin, turn slightly. Black lips split a bit wider, and chin rises. "At fucking last." She murmurs. "I thought I was going to have to murder someone." A pause. ".. I still might." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The Leomon might not realize what he is doing as he nods, "Yes, the D-reaper..." the lion says, intrigued about Ophelia, blinking a bit and snarling at those words, "You will have to go through me and a lot of digimon to even get to a Sovereign, and I am sure it would destroy you...". There is a flash of recognition when at last, one of the ocmponents of the lion recognizes Ophelia!, "You are that person... that kept saying bad things, trying to make everyone upset..." he mumbles.      And the hero is here!, the wolf digimon panting as he skids to a halt, growling loudly, "What are you doing here." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Promise?" Stage whispers Ophelia, as the Leoman snarls about going through a lot of digimon. Her claws drop away from her face, and lift. Like a distant scream of an E-string, a mournful wail of some distant crying guitar, comes the Six Stringed Sorrow. Her chin tucked in, peering at the larger creature from the tresses of her black hair. That cold smile twisting into a cruel, wicked smirk. "Oh no. Not make people upset; I just tell the truth." Her chin lifts, and head tilts. "So here's the good news; You're going to die. Probably not today? But you will. Or you'll kill your fellow 'mon to grow stronger." And heeeere's ALDEN! The Queen of Tears switching her attention aside, completing her sentence. ".. Because you're all a bunch of fucking cannibals." And then she lifts a claw from the Six Stringed Sorrow, wiggling digits it in the air. "Hello there~ You're not the broken heart I'm hunting. But you know what? I don't even fucking care anymore.." "What's a .. D-Reaper?" Tongue licks lips at the word, and another broken giggle. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion snarls at the appearance of the guitar, taking a proper fighting stance, one hadn on the hilt of his blade, eyes focused on the 'monster'. "I think I heard about you... someone has to stop you...". Still, the digimon seems unsure, nervous even.      Alden moves to stand by his friend, nudging him to relax, even as his fangs are bared, "Looking for someone?" he ask softly. He knows there must be quite a few digimon that might share the idea of 'everything is wrong' but does hope she does not meet any. "It's... a monster, something that decided that everything has to be destroyed, the only purpose it has is to destroy... everything." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' As opposed to appearing tense and ready for a fight - Ophelia seems relaxed. Pleased. Almost inviting the first hit, inviting the pain and hurt that comes with a battle. White teeth bared in a smile that has nothing to do with joy, before Alden nudges his friend to calm. At this? The broken creature almost appears disappointed, pulling her black lips into moue. Clawed fingers pluck a few strings on the Six Stringed Sorrow, which practically hums with pent-up power. The strings glowing at her black clawed touch - but no atmospheric effects yet. "Mm hm~ Looking for Death Metalmon. Oh.. I guess you knew him as Golden?" A mockery of a sweet smile. "The tides are rising once more~" And then she listens. The mockery, the smile fading into a faint frown. Before she finally snarls. "That's -my- fucking schtick." She begins, with a vicious hiss. "Where is it?" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden snarls when Ophelia names his friend, flames coming from his mouth, almost blasting at her just for naming him!, "He is somewhere safe, far away from you... he suffered enough, and I won't let you trick him into becoming you rpuppet again." he mumbles loudly. He almost welcomes the change of subject, the wolf sitting up and pointing to the horizon with a paw, the hints of bright orange light there, "It's on the next level of the digital world, sealed away by the Sovereign's fire wall." he says softly, eyes narrowed. The Lion seems to be a bit more nervous, "Are you sure we should let her walk around?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Puppet? I set that motherfucker free from -your- cycle." A cold and brittle smile once more, practically purring again. "You should have seen him. What strength he had. Stolen not from you fucking pissants, but poured out of his own breaking heart. You're all a sick fucking bunch - you don't need food or water, do you? You could be perfectly content settling around in your teeny tiny little forms. But fuck that, you're gonna murder each other to get stronger. No point, no purpose, just swallow the digi-soul, evolve and fuck the rest. Families and friends gone down the gullet because the alternative - is to be weak." A flash of white teeth. "I approve." And then she turns her head towards the firewall, smirking softly. Before her eyes slide back towards the Lion Man, black lips pursing. "Why? Are you going to give me a ride?" Another broken giggle. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden splays his ears and takes a step closer, "Oh please, you were using him as a puppet, a pawn, forcing him to help while corrupting him!, I fought him, I know how strong he was, I won. Or at least helped him regain his senses." he says softly, "Not going to bother explaining how things work, except one thing, we don't eat souls, just the data of the body, and only if it can't be helped." he says softly.      The mention of a ride seems to get a smile from the wolf, "In a sense, I know others think you can be helped, and I don't want to destroy you..." not that he will admit doubting he can do such a thing, "But, I can't let you roam around here either, certainly not when I fear you might be trying to corrupt my home, or my friends.". 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Your friends are all fucking stupid." States Ophelia bluntly, turning her attention back to Alden. A flash of white teeth. "And of course I'm trying to hurt your home. Throw the gas. Light the match. Let it burn. Pluck another star from the sky, and let the Dead Gods of Metal scream; Shatter this place like motherfucking Ormogodden's death all over again, leave nothing behind but the weeping echoes. The end of hope~" She pauses, and tilts her head. Eyes half-lidding again. "Mm hm. Keep on whispering that to the dark; 'It's not -really- murder, it's just eating their body!'. I'm sure someday even you'll believe that's the same as innocence. So tell me something; When you finish 'absorbing the data of the body' - do they come back? 'Whew, that was close! I had my data eaten! But it's okay, I just need a few days to heal up!" She then spits upon the ground; The black ichor bubbling, turning the very grass it lands upon grey and brittle. "Fucking pathetic. At least when I murder you, I'll be honest about what I'm doing. 'Oh, it's not my fault, I'm just built this way'. Fuck that noise." And the Six Stringed Sorrow melts out of existance, like dark mist fading in the rising sun. She claps her claws together in front of her lips, smirking. "Oh, I -know-. Isn't it hillarious? ****'s sake, how many times do I have to gut them? .. No matter. The more they try, the more they'll fail. Just like everything fails in the end. Friendship, happiness, love - those things will hurt you a whole fucking lot more than I ever would." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden growls loudly, "Go away." the digimon mumbles, clearly annoyed, angry perhaps, "You have no bussiness here, and I won't tell where Golden is either." he says, "Are you going to leave quietly, or you want to fight?" he asks softly. He... is not the best at intimidation. The Lion digimon just staring at the stranger at all that, looking back at Alden and moving to one side, as if to flank the stranger. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "I want the fight." Whispers Ophelia, all mad smiles disappearing from her face. Black lips a thin line, gaze steady and curiously intense. Her voice a low husk, the tears flowing from her eyes to patter upon the ground - faster, now. "I want it. I want to hurt you, and I want you to hurt me, little monster; I want to hurt everything you love, everything you know just like I hurt. I want you to weep for its loss like I weep.; I want your heart to break like mine broke. And then? I want to free you from this life, and sink you into my dark waters.." There is a dangerous, vicious pause. Before she giggles. "But I'm patient. I'll just come when you're expecting it. When you're at your absolute fucking strongest. And then I'll drown you and everything you know, and you'll finally feel my sorrow." Claw wiggles again, even as the broken creature is making her way out. "Later~" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden growls, narrowing his gaze as Ophelia basically taunts him, but decides to leave. "I might have a surprise or two." he says softly, tail giving a few flicks as he lets the dangerous creture move away. He mumbles something to the Lion, about 'telling the others, and alarms' but otherwise, neither do something to stop her. 
}}

4691/No One by My Side

2016-10-17T19:52:20Z

MiserEnoch:

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/17
|Location=Crystal Valley
|Synopsis=Ophelia goes to visit an old friend
They sit down for a nice chat, some tea, and crumpets!
#$%@ no, what do you think happens?
|Cast of Characters=975, 930
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The pathway to the Digital world was strewn with the reminders of the D-Reapers affects; Dust drawn from a virtual wind, sending faint brown streams across this place. And yet, as hope creeps back when the fear and horror are gone, small blades of grass were once more finding their way back to this place. We say were. For something else finds its way here - a figure. Her pale blue skin covered by the strands of the Black Tears, the faint shift of a tendriled collar about her neck. The soft patter of ichor upon the ground as it falls from her chin, staining and withering the grass it touches. Drowned Ophelia - but no entourage, this time. Eyes half lidded as she glides slowly, no breath passing her black lips. Almost as if caught in some faint trance - or a predator catching the faint wiff of blood and injury. Who knows what drives the Queen of Tears? For sorrow comes in so many different forms, and as always there is the faint shiver of DEATH METAL in the air about her. THEMESONG: MirrorThrone - 'No One By My Side' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gr0icgH_c9E 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' While no one activelly opposed the roaming humanoid, some digimon actually noticed her!. A message was sent to Alden, and while he made his way there, another digimon decided to approach the visitor. A large lion man, wearing what seems to be the typical coat and hat associated with japanese teen delinquents at schools, (and a short blade on his belt, but that item is forgotten) approaches the stranger, "Hello." rumbles the tall creature. The voice sounds... a bit odd, like two people speaking simultaneously. "Are you lost?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The swaying creature paused as the digital lion man approaches, the half lidded gaze remaining locked somewhere on the horizon. Ophelia then tilts her head back, looking up towards the man's face, past the X-shaped scar on his chest. Claws twitch, the miasma of the Black Tears rising like black smoke. Lips split in two. White teeth, sharp and clean as a scalpel. "Everything's lost." She begins, placing the palm of her hand over her own face. Claws curling - a few lines of ichor drawn from self inflicted wounds. The patter of ebon tears sliding faster. "Everything is wrong." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion looks at the... humanoid? curiously, keeping a bit of distance as he sees the flexing claws, returning the gaze firmly. "Wrong? what do you mean?" he asks softly, tail sweeping behind nervously, something about this person is putting him nervous! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Claws draw downwards, leaving four faint lines on Ophelia's face; Her own black blood leaking from them as she stares at the Leomon, black lips split into a wide smile. The soft, broken giggling of the mad creature. "Why, you're still alive." She answers in singsong, before the smile fades away. Chin rising, palm open as she curls claws inwards - as if inviting. "Where is your master, monster? Where is your home and heart?" If she's aware of Alden coming - if she's aware just how much people have come to loathe her 'little visits' - no doubt she'd be pleased as punch! 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion digimon tilts his head, eyes narrowed... is this thing related to the D-reaper?... "Are you related to... that monster?" he mumbles softly, ears twitching at the broken giggles. "I don't have a master, except lord Zhuqiaomon and the other sovereigns." he says, standing up straight, "And my home is this world, my heart as well." he says softly.      Meanwhile, a half awake Alden mumbles as he rushes ahead, after hearing rumours of a person with rock music following it!. At the moment, the form is quadruped, wolflike, but... not exactly like the one he used to wear. He is still making his way, but if Ophelia bothered to look, she might spot something trotting in their direction. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Monster..?" Begins Drowned Ophelia, and one can almost hear the voice drop to a purr. "What monster is this?" The tears that slide down her cheeks slow - they never stop, even now - but something else has caught her attention besides her own misery. That is, the potential misery of everyone else. One arm goes across her chest, the other used to cup and prop up her chin as she tilts her to the side. The sickened claws quietly flexing still - eager. "Aww. How adorable. You still think loyalty and fielty are worth a shit." Another broken giggle, before her voice lowers - softens. "So what you're telling me is - if I break this world, if I break your lord and sovereigns - I'll break the heart of everyone around them as well?" And then there's someone on the horizon! Eyes, so bright against the backdrop of the deep mascara and pale blue skin, turn slightly. Black lips split a bit wider, and chin rises. "At fucking last." She murmurs. "I thought I was going to have to murder someone." A pause. ".. I still might." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The Leomon might not realize what he is doing as he nods, "Yes, the D-reaper..." the lion says, intrigued about Ophelia, blinking a bit and snarling at those words, "You will have to go through me and a lot of digimon to even get to a Sovereign, and I am sure it would destroy you...". There is a flash of recognition when at last, one of the ocmponents of the lion recognizes Ophelia!, "You are that person... that kept saying bad things, trying to make everyone upset..." he mumbles.      And the hero is here!, the wolf digimon panting as he skids to a halt, growling loudly, "What are you doing here." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Promise?" Stage whispers Ophelia, as the Leoman snarls about going through a lot of digimon. Her claws drop away from her face, and lift. Like a distant scream of an E-string, a mournful wail of some distant crying guitar, comes the Six Stringed Sorrow. Her chin tucked in, peering at the larger creature from the tresses of her black hair. That cold smile twisting into a cruel, wicked smirk. "Oh no. Not make people upset; I just tell the truth." Her chin lifts, and head tilts. "So here's the good news; You're going to die. Probably not today? But you will. Or you'll kill your fellow 'mon to grow stronger." And heeeere's ALDEN! The Queen of Tears switching her attention aside, completing her sentence. ".. Because you're all a bunch of fucking cannibals." And then she lifts a claw from the Six Stringed Sorrow, wiggling digits it in the air. "Hello there~ You're not the broken heart I'm hunting. But you know what? I don't even fucking care anymore.." "What's a .. D-Reaper?" Tongue licks lips at the word, and another broken giggle. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion snarls at the appearance of the guitar, taking a proper fighting stance, one hadn on the hilt of his blade, eyes focused on the 'monster'. "I think I heard about you... someone has to stop you...". Still, the digimon seems unsure, nervous even.      Alden moves to stand by his friend, nudging him to relax, even as his fangs are bared, "Looking for someone?" he ask softly. He knows there must be quite a few digimon that might share the idea of 'everything is wrong' but does hope she does not meet any. "It's... a monster, something that decided that everything has to be destroyed, the only purpose it has is to destroy... everything." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' As opposed to appearing tense and ready for a fight - Ophelia seems relaxed. Pleased. Almost inviting the first hit, inviting the pain and hurt that comes with a battle. White teeth bared in a smile that has nothing to do with joy, before Alden nudges his friend to calm. At this? The broken creature almost appears disappointed, pulling her black lips into moue. Clawed fingers pluck a few strings on the Six Stringed Sorrow, which practically hums with pent-up power. The strings glowing at her black clawed touch - but no atmospheric effects yet. "Mm hm~ Looking for Death Metalmon. Oh.. I guess you knew him as Golden?" A mockery of a sweet smile. "The tides are rising once more~" And then she listens. The mockery, the smile fading into a faint frown. Before she finally snarls. "That's -my- fucking schtick." She begins, with a vicious hiss. "Where is it?" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden snarls when Ophelia names his friend, flames coming from his mouth, almost blasting at her just for naming him!, "He is somewhere safe, far away from you... he suffered enough, and I won't let you trick him into becoming you rpuppet again." he mumbles loudly. He almost welcomes the change of subject, the wolf sitting up and pointing to the horizon with a paw, the hints of bright orange light there, "It's on the next level of the digital world, sealed away by the Sovereign's fire wall." he says softly, eyes narrowed. The Lion seems to be a bit more nervous, "Are you sure we should let her walk around?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Puppet? I set that motherfucker free from -your- cycle." A cold and brittle smile once more, practically purring again. "You should have seen him. What strength he had. Stolen not from you fucking pissants, but poured out of his own breaking heart. You're all a sick fucking bunch - you don't need food or water, do you? You could be perfectly content settling around in your teeny tiny little forms. But fuck that, you're gonna murder each other to get stronger. No point, no purpose, just swallow the digi-soul, evolve and fuck the rest. Families and friends gone down the gullet because the alternative - is to be weak." A flash of white teeth. "I approve." And then she turns her head towards the firewall, smirking softly. Before her eyes slide back towards the Lion Man, black lips pursing. "Why? Are you going to give me a ride?" Another broken giggle. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden splays his ears and takes a step closer, "Oh please, you were using him as a puppet, a pawn, forcing him to help while corrupting him!, I fought him, I know how strong he was, I won. Or at least helped him regain his senses." he says softly, "Not going to bother explaining how things work, except one thing, we don't eat souls, just the data of the body, and only if it can't be helped." he says softly.      The mention of a ride seems to get a smile from the wolf, "In a sense, I know others think you can be helped, and I don't want to destroy you..." not that he will admit doubting he can do such a thing, "But, I can't let you roam around here either, certainly not when I fear you might be trying to corrupt my home, or my friends.". 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Your friends are all fucking stupid." States Ophelia bluntly, turning her attention back to Alden. A flash of white teeth. "And of course I'm trying to hurt your home. Throw the gas. Light the match. Let it burn. Pluck another star from the sky, and let the Dead Gods of Metal scream; Shatter this place like motherfucking Ormogodden's death all over again, leave nothing behind but the weeping echoes. The end of hope~" She pauses, and tilts her head. Eyes half-lidding again. "Mm hm. Keep on whispering that to the dark; 'It's not -really- murder, it's just eating their body!'. I'm sure someday even you'll believe that's the same as innocence. So tell me something; When you finish 'absorbing the data of the body' - do they come back? 'Whew, that was close! I had my data eaten! But it's okay, I just need a few days to heal up!" She then spits upon the ground; The black ichor bubbling, turning the very grass it lands upon grey and brittle. "Fucking pathetic. At least when I murder you, I'll be honest about what I'm doing. 'Oh, it's not my fault, I'm just built this way'. Fuck that noise." And the Six Stringed Sorrow melts out of existance, like dark mist fading in the rising sun. She claps her claws together in front of her lips, smirking. "Oh, I -know-. Isn't it hillarious? ****'s sake, how many times do I have to gut them? .. No matter. The more they try, the more they'll fail. Just like everything fails in the end. Friendship, happiness, love - those things will hurt you a whole fucking lot more than I ever would." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden growls loudly, "Go away." the digimon mumbles, clearly annoyed, angry perhaps, "You have no bussiness here, and I won't tell where Golden is either." he says, "Are you going to leave quietly, or you want to fight?" he asks softly. He... is not the best at intimidation. The Lion digimon just staring at the stranger at all that, looking back at Alden and moving to one side, as if to flank the stranger. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "I want the fight." Whispers Ophelia, all mad smiles disappearing from her face. Black lips a thin line, gaze steady and curiously intense. Her voice a low husk, the tears flowing from her eyes to patter upon the ground - faster, now. "I want it. I want to hurt you, and I want you to hurt me, little monster; I want to hurt everything you love, everything you know just like I hurt. I want you to weep for its loss like I weep.; I want your heart to break like mine broke. And then? I want to free you from this life, and sink you into my dark waters.." There is a dangerous, vicious pause. Before she giggles. "But I'm patient. I'll just come when you're expecting it. When you're at your absolute fucking strongest. And then I'll drown you and everything you know, and you'll finally feel my sorrow." Claw wiggles again, even as the broken creature is making her way out. "Later~" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden growls, narrowing his gaze as Ophelia basically taunts him, but decides to leave. "I might have a surprise or two." he says softly, tail giving a few flicks as he lets the dangerous creture move away. He mumbles something to the Lion, about 'telling the others, and alarms' but otherwise, neither do something to stop her. 
}}

4691/No One by My Side

2016-10-17T19:51:11Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/10/17 |Location=Crystal Valley |Synopsis=Ophelia goes to visit an old friend They sit down for a nice chat, some tea, and crumpets! **** no,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/17
|Location=Crystal Valley
|Synopsis=Ophelia goes to visit an old friend
They sit down for a nice chat, some tea, and crumpets!
**** no, what do you think happens?
|Cast of Characters=975, 930
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The pathway to the Digital world was strewn with the reminders of the D-Reapers affects; Dust drawn from a virtual wind, sending faint brown streams across this place. And yet, as hope creeps back when the fear and horror are gone, small blades of grass were once more finding their way back to this place. We say were. For something else finds its way here - a figure. Her pale blue skin covered by the strands of the Black Tears, the faint shift of a tendriled collar about her neck. The soft patter of ichor upon the ground as it falls from her chin, staining and withering the grass it touches. Drowned Ophelia - but no entourage, this time. Eyes half lidded as she glides slowly, no breath passing her black lips. Almost as if caught in some faint trance - or a predator catching the faint wiff of blood and injury. Who knows what drives the Queen of Tears? For sorrow comes in so many different forms, and as always there is the faint shiver of DEATH METAL in the air about her. THEMESONG: MirrorThrone - 'No One By My Side' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gr0icgH_c9E 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' While no one activelly opposed the roaming humanoid, some digimon actually noticed her!. A message was sent to Alden, and while he made his way there, another digimon decided to approach the visitor. A large lion man, wearing what seems to be the typical coat and hat associated with japanese teen delinquents at schools, (and a short blade on his belt, but that item is forgotten) approaches the stranger, "Hello." rumbles the tall creature. The voice sounds... a bit odd, like two people speaking simultaneously. "Are you lost?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The swaying creature paused as the digital lion man approaches, the half lidded gaze remaining locked somewhere on the horizon. Ophelia then tilts her head back, looking up towards the man's face, past the X-shaped scar on his chest. Claws twitch, the miasma of the Black Tears rising like black smoke. Lips split in two. White teeth, sharp and clean as a scalpel. "Everything's lost." She begins, placing the palm of her hand over her own face. Claws curling - a few lines of ichor drawn from self inflicted wounds. The patter of ebon tears sliding faster. "Everything is wrong." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion looks at the... humanoid? curiously, keeping a bit of distance as he sees the flexing claws, returning the gaze firmly. "Wrong? what do you mean?" he asks softly, tail sweeping behind nervously, something about this person is putting him nervous! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Claws draw downwards, leaving four faint lines on Ophelia's face; Her own black blood leaking from them as she stares at the Leomon, black lips split into a wide smile. The soft, broken giggling of the mad creature. "Why, you're still alive." She answers in singsong, before the smile fades away. Chin rising, palm open as she curls claws inwards - as if inviting. "Where is your master, monster? Where is your home and heart?" If she's aware of Alden coming - if she's aware just how much people have come to loathe her 'little visits' - no doubt she'd be pleased as punch! 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion digimon tilts his head, eyes narrowed... is this thing related to the D-reaper?... "Are you related to... that monster?" he mumbles softly, ears twitching at the broken giggles. "I don't have a master, except lord Zhuqiaomon and the other sovereigns." he says, standing up straight, "And my home is this world, my heart as well." he says softly.      Meanwhile, a half awake Alden mumbles as he rushes ahead, after hearing rumours of a person with rock music following it!. At the moment, the form is quadruped, wolflike, but... not exactly like the one he used to wear. He is still making his way, but if Ophelia bothered to look, she might spot something trotting in their direction. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Monster..?" Begins Drowned Ophelia, and one can almost hear the voice drop to a purr. "What monster is this?" The tears that slide down her cheeks slow - they never stop, even now - but something else has caught her attention besides her own misery. That is, the potential misery of everyone else. One arm goes across her chest, the other used to cup and prop up her chin as she tilts her to the side. The sickened claws quietly flexing still - eager. "Aww. How adorable. You still think loyalty and fielty are worth a shit." Another broken giggle, before her voice lowers - softens. "So what you're telling me is - if I break this world, if I break your lord and sovereigns - I'll break the heart of everyone around them as well?" And then there's someone on the horizon! Eyes, so bright against the backdrop of the deep mascara and pale blue skin, turn slightly. Black lips split a bit wider, and chin rises. "At fucking last." She murmurs. "I thought I was going to have to murder someone." A pause. ".. I still might." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The Leomon might not realize what he is doing as he nods, "Yes, the D-reaper..." the lion says, intrigued about Ophelia, blinking a bit and snarling at those words, "You will have to go through me and a lot of digimon to even get to a Sovereign, and I am sure it would destroy you...". There is a flash of recognition when at last, one of the ocmponents of the lion recognizes Ophelia!, "You are that person... that kept saying bad things, trying to make everyone upset..." he mumbles.      And the hero is here!, the wolf digimon panting as he skids to a halt, growling loudly, "What are you doing here." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Promise?" Stage whispers Ophelia, as the Leoman snarls about going through a lot of digimon. Her claws drop away from her face, and lift. Like a distant scream of an E-string, a mournful wail of some distant crying guitar, comes the Six Stringed Sorrow. Her chin tucked in, peering at the larger creature from the tresses of her black hair. That cold smile twisting into a cruel, wicked smirk. "Oh no. Not make people upset; I just tell the truth." Her chin lifts, and head tilts. "So here's the good news; You're going to die. Probably not today? But you will. Or you'll kill your fellow 'mon to grow stronger." And heeeere's ALDEN! The Queen of Tears switching her attention aside, completing her sentence. ".. Because you're all a bunch of fucking cannibals." And then she lifts a claw from the Six Stringed Sorrow, wiggling digits it in the air. "Hello there~ You're not the broken heart I'm hunting. But you know what? I don't even fucking care anymore.." "What's a .. D-Reaper?" Tongue licks lips at the word, and another broken giggle. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The lion snarls at the appearance of the guitar, taking a proper fighting stance, one hadn on the hilt of his blade, eyes focused on the 'monster'. "I think I heard about you... someone has to stop you...". Still, the digimon seems unsure, nervous even.      Alden moves to stand by his friend, nudging him to relax, even as his fangs are bared, "Looking for someone?" he ask softly. He knows there must be quite a few digimon that might share the idea of 'everything is wrong' but does hope she does not meet any. "It's... a monster, something that decided that everything has to be destroyed, the only purpose it has is to destroy... everything." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' As opposed to appearing tense and ready for a fight - Ophelia seems relaxed. Pleased. Almost inviting the first hit, inviting the pain and hurt that comes with a battle. White teeth bared in a smile that has nothing to do with joy, before Alden nudges his friend to calm. At this? The broken creature almost appears disappointed, pulling her black lips into moue. Clawed fingers pluck a few strings on the Six Stringed Sorrow, which practically hums with pent-up power. The strings glowing at her black clawed touch - but no atmospheric effects yet. "Mm hm~ Looking for Death Metalmon. Oh.. I guess you knew him as Golden?" A mockery of a sweet smile. "The tides are rising once more~" And then she listens. The mockery, the smile fading into a faint frown. Before she finally snarls. "That's -my- fucking schtick." She begins, with a vicious hiss. "Where is it?" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden snarls when Ophelia names his friend, flames coming from his mouth, almost blasting at her just for naming him!, "He is somewhere safe, far away from you... he suffered enough, and I won't let you trick him into becoming you rpuppet again." he mumbles loudly. He almost welcomes the change of subject, the wolf sitting up and pointing to the horizon with a paw, the hints of bright orange light there, "It's on the next level of the digital world, sealed away by the Sovereign's fire wall." he says softly, eyes narrowed. The Lion seems to be a bit more nervous, "Are you sure we should let her walk around?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Puppet? I set that motherfucker free from -your- cycle." A cold and brittle smile once more, practically purring again. "You should have seen him. What strength he had. Stolen not from you fucking pissants, but poured out of his own breaking heart. You're all a sick fucking bunch - you don't need food or water, do you? You could be perfectly content settling around in your teeny tiny little forms. But fuck that, you're gonna murder each other to get stronger. No point, no purpose, just swallow the digi-soul, evolve and fuck the rest. Families and friends gone down the gullet because the alternative - is to be weak." A flash of white teeth. "I approve." And then she turns her head towards the firewall, smirking softly. Before her eyes slide back towards the Lion Man, black lips pursing. "Why? Are you going to give me a ride?" Another broken giggle. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden splays his ears and takes a step closer, "Oh please, you were using him as a puppet, a pawn, forcing him to help while corrupting him!, I fought him, I know how strong he was, I won. Or at least helped him regain his senses." he says softly, "Not going to bother explaining how things work, except one thing, we don't eat souls, just the data of the body, and only if it can't be helped." he says softly.      The mention of a ride seems to get a smile from the wolf, "In a sense, I know others think you can be helped, and I don't want to destroy you..." not that he will admit doubting he can do such a thing, "But, I can't let you roam around here either, certainly not when I fear you might be trying to corrupt my home, or my friends.". 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Your friends are all fucking stupid." States Ophelia bluntly, turning her attention back to Alden. A flash of white teeth. "And of course I'm trying to hurt your home. Throw the gas. Light the match. Let it burn. Pluck another star from the sky, and let the Dead Gods of Metal scream; Shatter this place like motherfucking Ormogodden's death all over again, leave nothing behind but the weeping echoes. The end of hope~" She pauses, and tilts her head. Eyes half-lidding again. "Mm hm. Keep on whispering that to the dark; 'It's not -really- murder, it's just eating their body!'. I'm sure someday even you'll believe that's the same as innocence. So tell me something; When you finish 'absorbing the data of the body' - do they come back? 'Whew, that was close! I had my data eaten! But it's okay, I just need a few days to heal up!" She then spits upon the ground; The black ichor bubbling, turning the very grass it lands upon grey and brittle. "Fucking pathetic. At least when I murder you, I'll be honest about what I'm doing. 'Oh, it's not my fault, I'm just built this way'. Fuck that noise." And the Six Stringed Sorrow melts out of existance, like dark mist fading in the rising sun. She claps her claws together in front of her lips, smirking. "Oh, I -know-. Isn't it hillarious? ****'s sake, how many times do I have to gut them? .. No matter. The more they try, the more they'll fail. Just like everything fails in the end. Friendship, happiness, love - those things will hurt you a whole fucking lot more than I ever would." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden growls loudly, "Go away." the digimon mumbles, clearly annoyed, angry perhaps, "You have no bussiness here, and I won't tell where Golden is either." he says, "Are you going to leave quietly, or you want to fight?" he asks softly. He... is not the best at intimidation. The Lion digimon just staring at the stranger at all that, looking back at Alden and moving to one side, as if to flank the stranger. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "I want the fight." Whispers Ophelia, all mad smiles disappearing from her face. Black lips a thin line, gaze steady and curiously intense. Her voice a low husk, the tears flowing from her eyes to patter upon the ground - faster, now. "I want it. I want to hurt you, and I want you to hurt me, little monster; I want to hurt everything you love, everything you know just like I hurt. I want you to weep for its loss like I weep.; I want your heart to break like mine broke. And then? I want to free you from this life, and sink you into my dark waters.." There is a dangerous, vicious pause. Before she giggles. "But I'm patient. I'll just come when you're expecting it. When you're at your absolute fucking strongest. And then I'll drown you and everything you know, and you'll finally feel my sorrow." Claw wiggles again, even as the broken creature is making her way out. "Later~" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden growls, narrowing his gaze as Ophelia basically taunts him, but decides to leave. "I might have a surprise or two." he says softly, tail giving a few flicks as he lets the dangerous creture move away. He mumbles something to the Lion, about 'telling the others, and alarms' but otherwise, neither do something to stop her. 
}}

4677/While We Sleep

2016-10-15T16:57:08Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/10/15 |Location=Bar and Grill at the Edge of the Multiverse |Synopsis=Karian and Ophelia sit down for a relaxing chat over their respective di..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/15
|Location=Bar and Grill at the Edge of the Multiverse
|Synopsis=Karian and Ophelia sit down for a relaxing chat over their respective differences.
And then they threaten to kill each other.
Guest Appearance by: Kotone
|Cast of Characters=975, 451, 7
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Bar and Grill at the end of the Universe - IS UNDER ATTACK! No, it's not. But it certainly feels that way. There's a certain tenseness in the air between security and waiters, for they know what a certain creature is capable of. After all, she -holds fucking concerts to celebrate it-. But without actually attacking someone or breaking the rules here at the end of the multiverse, there's not much that can be done.. About Drowned Ophelia. She stands at a window, looking out at an empty nothing, black lips pulled in a thin line. Eyes half lidded in thought. A few of the Doom sit at the tables near her, mostly zombies and skeletons, cackling and throwing glasses to one another. The broken creature known as Ophelia raises her hand, placing her claws flat against the pane of glass. ".. Beautiful." She whispers, to the empty dark beyond. White teeth behind black lips. And beside her? It's KOTONE! Well, no, but it's someone who looks a hell of a lot like Kotone. Save for the frankenstein stitching that covers nearly every square inch, and the heavy mascara. Not to mention the black nails, Doom merch, and massive fucking pike-axe she's carrying. Why a pike-axe? Because it's METAL. Also because she totally nearly kicked Eithne's ass with it. 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     Today would find another rarity amongst it's patrons. Today, the space wolves were paying a visit. Karian and his massive guard, along with the thunderwolf if they'll let him in, were planning to have a nice meal. That is...until they spotted the zombies and Ophelia. "Damn...I knew I should have brought my sword." He says, shuffling in. He clearly didn't like it, and sat VERY far back, letting his sole yellow eye gleam akin to the way wolf eyes did in low light. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It's almost like her hateful black heart can -feel- the glory of the Imperium; And is drawn immediatly to poking it with sharp sticks. Black claws pull back from the glass, half closed in curiosity. And then she turns her head ever so slightly, glancing to Flesh Doll. ".. Do you smell wet dog?" She asks, with a flash of white teeth. "It's fucking disgusting." And then she turns all the way around, the miasma of the Black Tears reforming behind her as collar. Pale blue arms spread wide, as if to welcome an old friend. "I -thought- so." The broken creature glides forward, quietly dipping a black claw into a drink as she moves. Letting the amber droplet darken on her finger tip before licking it off, and smirking. "Why, hello boys." No, you don't get to sit in the dark corner of the room. You get all the attention. All of it. 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     "What do you want, witch?" Karian asks, with pure disdain in his voice. His wolf takes a seat next to the table, and likely dwarfing any servers who come over, and growls towards Ophelia and her doll. "I am only tolerating your existance due to the laws here." They may be vikings, but they know when to follow rules. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Funny; That's the only reason you and your .." She pauses, glancing at the wolf and flexing her claws for a moment. ".. thing are still breathing. Looks like we both have something in common." The turns the chair about, settling in backwards - the black tears that compose her clothing shifting to accomodate the new position, even as she's crossing her arms on the back of the chair. Resting her chin on the top of her arms, that cold, brittle little smile on her lips. "What do -I- want? .. To see your lips turn blue as the last bubbles pass your teeth. But, you know, long term plans and all that. So what happened? Couldn't find good booze with your fucking heroes?" 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     Karian laughs as he hears that. "Good luck with that desire, witch. And no, I believed it was time to take a bit of a tour of the multiverse. It's been too long since I have." He says. The wolfguard bristle and some bare their fangs in response to Ophelia growing closer, or even staring at them. "Step foot on Fenris, and your little 'concerts' will be fed to the Kraken...But I am curious. Your no psyker, and no deamon from what I can tell. So what ARE you?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "You're not missing much. Same boring ass people, same miserable existance, same inevitable end." White teeth flash behind black lips, a broken and mad giggle. "But hey; I guess you probably want to see it before I pluck the lights out, right?" And then she sits up a bit, resting her elbow upon the back of the chair, cupping her chin in her claws. Letting them tic-tic against her cheek - drawing faint beads of her ichor blood with their touch. Nothing cuts as deep as Sorrow, after all. "Promises, promises, you fucking flirt. You know what they say about men with huge shoulders." She answers to the 'Kraken' bit. And then she flashes those white teeth once more. "Me? Oh, you know, same old story. Boy meets girl, girl loves boy, boy rips her heart out, girl throws herself into the waiting arms of infinite sorrow, girl arises as the fucking avatar of Death Metal. Here's a spoiler? Girl kills every last fucking thing that draws a warm breath, girl empties the skies, multiverse exists in a perpetual silence save for the ancient hammer of beautiful fucking Metal as driven by the Dead Gods forever more." A vague wave of the hand. "And what about you?" 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     "Raised in a nomadic clan, first thing I was given as a babe was an axe and was expected to grip it as an infant. Grew to age 12 and died in battle. Was revived from Morkai's Gate and began my journey to what I am now." He says. He looks over and tears into a haunch of meat brought over quite savagely. Surely the metal gods would approve of that. "But that was a lifetime ago.....a hundred years, in fact. Now I see the worst of humanity, vile mutations, and chaos itself. Xenos that would destroy our people. But that is why I exist. The Bulwark against terror, the Emperor's mailed fist." He explains. Meanwhile, the only real wolf sniffs at Ophelia, memorizing that foul scent. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' There's something else going on, as the talk comes for a moment. "Then the girls is forever alone without anything to torment." Kotone has somehow snuck up on the small group for a momwn. "I'm pretty sure you know my story all ready, don't you?" She looks to Drowned and Flesh Doll for amoment before moving to sit by Karian. "Wolf Lord Icefang." She also is bristling at Drowned and Flesh Doll. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears smells.. well, it's hard to say what she smells like. WRONG, perhaps. Just WRONG. Whatever she was before, she's definitely not human now. Tac-tac-tac go the claws on the back of the chair, before the black hearted bitch yawns. Curling her claws over her mouth, and smacking softly. "Wow, that's really interesting. So you went into battle with a pure heart, and found out that everything is shit. Also probably on fire. Sounds like it took you a hundred years to learn what took me a little dip in the Sea. But why fucking bother? It's not like it's going to get better. Maybe a little terror would do your fucking humans some good-" And then she glances aside as Kotone enters! DRAMATIC ENTRANCE! Flesh Doll is -there- - but a raised claw from the Queen of Tears halts the bristling creature. Flesh Doll's lip trembles, before she -snarls- at Kotone. "Fucking-.. tin can -copy-." Bristling is right. But she settles down next to Ophelia, the hand maiden of Sorrow. Shifting with the barely restrained desire to take on her 'sire'. Drowned Ophelia then smiles that sweet, mad, bitter smile towards Kotone. "Mm, true.. guess I'll burn that bury that bridge in salt when I get there. But at least I'll know -he'll- suffer too; I'll leave him for last, you see. The last living thing in a burning multiverse. A girl's gotta have amibition, after all." 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     "Yet I do have hope. 'Though the path is dark, my faith is my light, the emperor my torch.'" Karian counters, his words said clearly hinting he was a priest. Ygdril backs off, growling and snapping at Ophelia and the Flesh Doll. "Easy, Ygdril. She's not worth it." He says, reaching over to gently pet between his ears. "Because you were scorned, you would drown the world in your sorrow? Perhaps you have more in common with chaos then I thought." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Torches burn out in time; And the dark never stops. Although I approve of setting Emperors on fire in general." Smirks the Witch of Broken Hearts, before the smile falls; Falls like someone dropped a wine glass, shattering against the hard ground. "You say it so simply, little man; And what have you loved beyond yourself and your pitiful faith? My tears will not drown one world; They will drown a thousand, a million. I will free them from life's bitter disappointments." Like a mirror, she's a lot more fragile than she seems; And like a mirror, she tends to tear open veins in people who break her. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa looks at Flesh Doll. "You know what happens to those who fight here." She titlts her head at Flesh Doll. "Oh come on there's no tin in my body." God at least with Miho the forks were not hostile at all this is just a nightmare that odesn't quick. "In the begineing there was chaos and then ... one said let there be light. Nothing lasts for ever not even the cold dark." 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     "I was not always a Space Marine. I was truely human at one point. I loved, had doubt, felt fear. I mourned for it when I became what I am now, but it is not my life anymore. I almost feel bad for you. Your heart cast aside, but..." Karian says, pausing a moment. "...this is not the path. Rather, this will only further damn you. Maybe even spawn your opposite. For every shadow, a light will be born." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "I don't care what you're -made- of, tin bitch; I care what you -stole- from me." Hisses Flesh Doll, with Kotone's lips. Her knuckles are white upon the pike-axe, gripping it hard, practically trembling. She's rocking slowly, a black ichor trickling down her cheeks; The same that falls continously from Ophelia's eyes, in fact. "I'll make you pay for it. I'll make you pay for turning them all against me. Maaka, Staren, all of them. I may not be able to get you here, but I -will- get you. I'll take back my -life-." "Nooo, pretty sure all was darkness save for the great Cremator of the Sky." Smirks Ophelia, towards Kotone. "It was his explosive death that gave rise to-oh, fuck it. I'm not here for religion." She glances aside as Flesh Doll trembles on the edge of self control, and does absolutely nothing to calm her down. Beyond to whisper to the frankenstein parody: "She's mocking you~ With your own lips, too. What a bitch, right?" The smile falls again as she looks back towards Karian, a frown tugging at her black lips. "Bullshit. -Heroic- bullshit, which makes it twice as fucking bull shitty. 'For every shadow a light is born'." She spits aside, the ichor bubbling and hissing on the ground. "You're giving them -hope-. For what? You've been fighting for a hundred years, little man, so tell me.." Here, she leans forward. Practically hissing. ".. Does it ever get -better-? Has it ever gotten -easier-?" She cackles madly, knowing the answer to that - or, at least, she thinks she does. Before she reaches up - and drags her claw across her own chest. Black ichor tumbles outwards, and the guards inch forward; But is cutting yourself considered the same as attacking?! She hisses in pain, eyelids fluttering, before she marks the 'X'. "Mmm.. nope. Still there. Thumping away, black and hard as stone. So fuck your paths, and fuck your damnation. -I'm- on the winning side; You've gotta beat me -every fucking time-. I've just got to win once." 

:'''{{#var:451|Karian Icefang (451)}} has posed:'''     "Nothing worth fighting for ever gets any easier." Karian says. For a space wolf, he's actually being quite civil. He watches the display, and growls as a spec of the dark ichor nearly lands on the thunderwolf. "I will warn you only once, Ophelia. I may pity you, even wish you peace. But if your foul taint touches anything I hold dear...the last thing you'll see is my blade as it cuts you down, and the last thing you'll hear is the wolf's howl, signalling your doom." If Ophelia looked into the wolf lord's eye, she'd see it. She'd see the caged beast inside. The animal just waiting, begging, pleading for a moment to get loose. The desire to destroy, to rip and tear, to hunt and kill. It seemed that this man was a walking contradiction. He spoke of peace, but harbored a monster of war inside. The question was....did Karian bear the only one? 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa looks at Flesh Doll for a moment, there's no hate on Kotone's face as she looks at Flesh Doll. "Then what? Will the hunger you have consume you? Will it devour what you want? Will you even be happy?" She looks to her then the pause at a bit about Drowned Ophelia's world as she realises an eye for a moment. She looks at Drowned though her eyes narrow just the faintest bit. "Fair enough a lot of gods need their faces kicked in anyway." She notesbefore debating if she was going to order for food she looks to Karian and can only guess how much will power it's taking not attack give the Drowned seem to be the kin of Chaos. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "I'm not -just- going to touch it, little man.." Begins Ophelia, finally standing up. The chair scraping as she pushes it aside, her claws upon the table; Curling, scoring the surface. That monster, that beast inside the massive warrior - THAT'S what she wanted. Not this simpering priest talking of light and holiness. "I -am- cut down. I am the dead. My breath is cold, and my heart is broken. I am the Queen of the fucking Tear Drinkers, and I am going to -drown- your world. I will flood it. I will drag every fucking thing you love screaming beneath the pitch waves of my grief. And when I am done, I am going to raise a fucking monument right on the center of your world, and it will be -of a mother fucking poodle- and there's nothing you can fucking do about it because -I'm already dead-. So get your howling fuckers ready, because you're on my fucking -list-." Where something is grim and - in some regards - an ancient evil in Karian, within Ophelia there is madness. Madness and grief, twisted into a burning hate that will consume all if given the chance. The tears from her eyes patter against the table, hissing against the surface. And the guards have had quite enough of that, finally moving in to intercede. "Don't know - you wanna find out, you plastic plated b-" Begins Flesh Doll, before her Queen straightens up quite suddenly. Casting the guards a wicked, crazed smile as she draws herself up. And begins gliding outwards, her entourage of the dead and insane following. 
}}

4656/Spirit Crusher

2016-10-10T21:56:29Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/10/10 |Location=ADVENT Earth <XCOM> |Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia had stolen a man from the XCOM Commander. Now that man is coming home - changed...."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/10
|Location=ADVENT Earth <XCOM>
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia had stolen a man from the XCOM Commander. Now that man is coming home - changed.
|Cast of Characters=975, 1046, 62
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Evening time in a small fuel depot on a major road towards a City Center in what was formally Kansas. Relatively quiet, the bright moon hangs over empty fields of dying wheat, the fireflies fighting for control over the even pulses of - emergency lights. A small Advent deployment truck - little more than a canopy over a bed attached to a massive engine - is sitting skewed in the middle of the road. Lights are on in the fuel station, but nothing human wandering openly around. Just fireflies bouncing slowly, and the hesitant chorus of crickets. Occasionally a bit of static will hiss from the Advent truck, its doors open wide - the keys are even still in the ignition. The scanning pole nearby flickers yellow as it sweeps the ground in a circular pattern, the typical layout of a single light above it broken. A small spark falling on occasion, but whatever happened here is either old - or still occuring. 

:'''{{#var:1046|Samira Amirmuaz (1046)}} has posed:'''     It didn't take long for there to be a response from XCOM, both from the radio and in person. Twenty minutes after the initial transmission, the telltale scream of the Skyranger's powerful engines overpowers all other sounds as it comes into view over the fuel depot. Initial scans didn't reveal anything outright hostile, so Firebrand lands twenty meters north of the truck's position, up the road.     Not a minute after landing, the ramp drops down; the Commander herself has taken the field, seemingly by herself... Though she's by no means unarmed. She's taken a rifle from the armory with her, along with her ever-present Colt Python still comfortably stuck to her thigh. Her rifle is raised and ready as she makes her way towards the vehicle, always working to check any blind spots she might notice, moving in a slow half-crouch. "Hausmann!" She hisses quietly. "Whatever you may be, demon or no, come out. You have taken the time to call me. There is no use in being coy now." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Skyranger tics as the metal cools down, the Commander's positioning as apt as always; But then again, she -was- the tactical genius who could turn a ragtag group into something - well, something more dangerous than a rag tag group. But beyond the sweep of the scanning poles, nothing else moves. The soft click-click of the truck's emergency lights, the buzz of night insects. That is, until Samira finally speaks. The crickets lower their sound, and then - one by one - begin to fade away. The gentle click and snap of the occasional animal dying as well, the whole world seeming to hold its breath. And then the radio static hisses back to life, voices jumbling over each other as it rolls across frequencies. And finds something; The tiny sound of 'Spirit Crusher' by an ancient band, long before the Advent arrival. But such stations had long since been shut down for propoganda announcements and Advent Burger jingles! The shocks on the advent truck squeak softly as it shifts. A wet gagging noise, bone bopping like ligaments coming loose. ".. Oh Commander!" Hausmann's voice. But something's different; It's hoarser, dried and cracked, like the man had been dying of thirst. "Honestly, I didn't expect -you- personally to come. You must really miss me." A dry, husky chuckle, before something slides out of the back of the truck; An Advent trooper. Something wet and dark on its lips, splattering its chin. "H-hey.. sorry about running off before. You now how it is. You get spooked, you go looking for somewhere to hide - you get your heart pulled out... oh, you have no idea how much that hurt." Still no sign of the THING that was Twitch, although his voice sounds from the truck's bed itself. 

:'''{{#var:1046|Samira Amirmuaz (1046)}} has posed:'''     The Commander stops immediately when the world is suddenly going quiet... For a moment, she wonders if perhaps she was going deaf somehow. No black fog here, though. After a moment, she continues ahead cautiously, perfectly aware that this was a trap. At least she knew that if things /really/ went bad, she had backup from Leroy's XCOM ready to give support. But would it really come to that?     The music belting out of the ADVENT transport is what seals it for her; she'd been lured here by the foul demonic /thing/ that had taken him in the first place. Why it hadn't simply tried to kill her when she stepped out was beyond her. Then she heard his voice... Her teeth grit tightly together as she starts going around the truck in a wide circle. It'd be stupid to approach the truck too closely. "I have always looked after my soldiers, Hausmann. Or do you prefer 'Ophelia'? I am not foolish enough to believe you would simply be returned to me without some kind of control."     Quick on the draw, the moment that the ADVENT trooper slides out of the truck bed in her vision, she fires on it with a quick burst aimed directly at center-mass. "I am not a plaything for you to toy with, creature," Samira says coldly. Provided she's sure the Trooper is down, she continues circling to try to see into the back of the truck... clicking on the flashlight underneath the rifle's barrel. "If you wish to keep playing games, I have no trouble with giving the order to purify this site." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "No Ophelia here, boss." Comes the dry, husked voice as Samira circles; The Advent trooper screeches as it's shot, coming out of whatever stupor it was put in; Clutching at its throat, however, rather than the bullet wounds. Something vile and black bubbling from its mouth, before it goes slack again; A foul smoke slowly curling upwards. When she flicks the light on, she'll see - well, Hausmann. Sort of. His attire has changed; Someone's put him in an Vietnam-era costume, complete with rifle and bayonet. Both of which are still slung over his shoulder. A round metal helmt sits on his skull, with 'Kill The Born' and 'Last Stop For Sorrow' drawn on it with grease paint beneath the webbed canopy. His flesh is pale; Black veins run through the sunken flesh, like the last stages of a heroine addict. But his fingers drip red, as does another Advent trooper at his feet. He keeps his head down, the light casting a hard line right across the bridge of his broken nose. "J-just me. I'm still 'Twitch', Commander" Cracked lips split into a mad smile, even as he gestures down. "Just without all the twitchy. Nothing scares me much anymore. Whatcha think of my handy work?" A gesture down to the last trooper. "-She- wants to see what they're made of before they do something stupid, like ask the bed wetters for an alliance. She's got free reign on anything not .." A wave of a hand upwards, gore sprinkling the inside of the canvas. ".. from out there or joined. Oh, the sights I've -seen-, Commander. The things I've -heard-. This place is so much bigger than Earth and lousy fucking humans and stupid fucking Advent. It hurts so fucking much.." "But at least it's my hurt. There's things out there that can end this war; End it forever. Put out the lights, put the chairs on the table and call it a night." A single black tear works its way down the side of Hausm- of Twitch's nose, his eyes still hidden. 

:'''{{#var:1046|Samira Amirmuaz (1046)}} has posed:'''     A sick feeling rises in Samira's stomach, watching the grotesque display happening right in front of her. Seeing Hausmann arise out of the ADVENT corpse like some kind of possessing spirit does elicit a response, though... Namely, falling back a couple steps. Hausmann looks like the fucking Damned, that's for certain, and Samira's not willing to let it get anywhere near her for fear of what an errant touch might do to her.     "Bullshit," the Commander growls from behind grit teeth. "Hausmann was a human man, a good man who wanted to save his planet in spite of his fear. This is nothing but a mockery! You sully his good name by merely existing in this state." Of course, she knows just how wide the conflict had become for them; it was no longer a planetary issue, but a Multiversal one. She'd learned that the hard way two days ago. "That may be so. But it is a conflict worth fighting for our home. If you were human, you would understand."     He advocates for an easy way out: to just destroy the planet, or the life upon it, and put an end to the entire thing. She shakes her head once, a scowl making her disapproval clear. "We will end this war on our terms. We /will/ fight until this planet is free. That is the promise I have made - that XCOM has made. You won't persuade me to stop it because you lack the will to actually fight for what you love and believe in. Ending it all is the /coward's way/." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Stop fighting? I don't want you to stop fighting, and neither does she." States 'Twitch', finally tilting his head back. There are no eyes; Empty sockets, with the ebon fluid dripping along his cheeks. Black Tears. "Can't you -see-, commander? She wants you to fight -harder-." That mad smile is matched with an equally mad laugh, as 'Hausmann' points down at the Troopers. "See that? You see what I fucking did with my -thumbs-? -Me-. Deidrech 'blow my own cock off if I twitched' Hausmann. You think I don't know what they were saying behind my back? Everyone speaks a little english." Whatever accent 'Twitch' once had is still there, but his phrasing is distinctly American now. "Listen to me, damn it; How far are you willing to go?" His voice lowering, conspiracy. He takes a knee, placing a hand on the Trooper's still chest. His empty eye sockets once more hidden from view by the metal helmet as he whispers. "The Black Tears; They hurt. They hurt forever, but they'll give us power. Strength to crack the Advent. Chase them off this planet - chase them back home. Break their nests or their eggs or larvae or babies or whatever the fuck they do to spawn. We can turn off their lights, Commander." Deidrich looks up again, the soft patter of sable falling from his cheeks. Despite his smile. "Easy as flipping off a fucking switch. They fear death just like we do.. just like I did. Sorrow is there, behind those fucking metal staples in their brains. The waters can rise; The waters can drown them all. All -we- have to do is let it. Open the fucking floodgates; Let the dark fingers of the Black Waters touch. -Her- world did it once; They broke the back of their demons, just like we can to ours." A lie - in a manner of speaking. No one likes talking about what came next; But shhhh. "Don't you see, Commander? I ... failed you.. I fucked up. I know I did.." The tears come more freely, now. ".. But I came back! I came back for her, and for you. I came back to show you I'm -not- just a fuck up. Look what I found! I found -the fucking End-. All we have to do is -point- it and pull the trigger. Commander.." 

:'''{{#var:1046|Samira Amirmuaz (1046)}} has posed:'''     Fight harder, he says. As if they weren't already fighting their hardest before. Perhaps whatever infection Ophelia had given him strengthened him in some way; Samira can see the evidence of it right in front of her face. Yet she remembers the people in her past, and now with her in the present. Dr. Shen, the brilliant man who believed that humanity could win on their terms. Dr. Vahlen, who was willing to go places other feared to tred, all to give humanity a fighting chance. On their own terms. The same went for Dr. Tygan and Lily.     Times were hard, but everyone believed that XCOM could win without having to sacrifice their humanity in the process. With their inventions, their skills, their determination. Samira listens to the spiel, but in the end she knows that sacrifices will be made... but they have to be the /right sacrifices/. Enslaving themselves to this foul darkness was not the correct way to go.     "You didn't fail me, Hausmann," she tells him softly. Her own waterworks have started... a solitary tear coming from her right eye. "You stepped up when few others would, in spite of yourself. Perhaps you were a coward. YOu were afraid. But you stepped up and tried to fight regardless. It was all I could ever ask of you."     Samira lets the rifle drop and hang from it's strap around her shoulder, brushing away the tear on her face with her left hand. "You did find it... The end. But I'm afraid it was only the end for you. Hausmann... I am relieving you of your duties, soldier."     Quick as a flash, Samira draws the revolver stuck on her thigh and points it directly at the cursed man's head... Then pulls the trigger. Few things could stop a .44 Magnum round. Maybe his newfound powers would save him. Samira can only hope it's not the case. "Go to God. Find peace in his arms, and strength knowing that we will save this planet in our own way." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The creature called 'Twitch' doesn't have time to - well, TWITCH - when the Commander pulls leather and lays a bullet right through the brain pain. The metal helmet is no protection; It was rotted and rusted anyways, beneath the green paint, likely looted from some abandoned human museum on ADVENT Earth. His head jerks sideways, shoulder slumping - but he doesn't fall. Not just yet. Black lumps pour down the side of his face like spilled porridge, evidence of the mess that .44 has made of his brain pan. But who said METAL FANS need their fucking brains?! Although he does at last turn his head up. No eyes, lips working for a moment. The black ichor spilling wordlessly from his lips, the mad smile gone. A moment of lucidity. ".. Thanks, C-Commander.." And then he finally slumps forward, across the Advent Trooper he killed. Taking with him the wicked promise of the Queen of Tears, a way to end all wars - by killing everything that makes war, of course. The radio in the truck continues to hammer out the tinny sound of ancient DEATH METAL for a moment more, before static eats away at it. And then it flicks back off. Somewhere, in the silence, as the sound of a bullet echoes away - crickets begin to sing once more. The Black Tears sinking into the earth, leaving a mascara stain as they go. 

:'''{{#var:1046|Samira Amirmuaz (1046)}} has posed:'''     For a moment, Samira is about to fire off the rest of her rounds into poor Hausmann's face, just to make sure that whatever thing had taken him wouldn't have anything left to torture when she was finished. She soon notes, however, that it's unnecessary. She can see Hausmann - the true Hausmann - in that bleak moment after his brains started to run down his face like lumpy, sick oil. Holstering her revolver, she makes sure to give him a send-off salute before he goes.     Once she's sure that her job here is finished, Samira turns from the bodies and takes up her rifle - firing one last burst into the transport's radio console to force that obnoxious music to just shut up. What was left to make sure that whatever this corruption was, it didn't remain. Thankfully, Big Sky's team is ready and waiting to purge.      Then she's going for the Skyranger... expression a neutral mask while she climbs up the ramp and slaps the button to make it close. It only takes a couple seconds for Firebrand to re-heat the engine and prepare for takeoff. Engines scream as the VTOL aircraft lifts off and starts traveling back to the Avenger. 

:'''{{#var:62|Elise Leroy (62)}} has posed:'''     Another Skyranger is in the area, at the far reaches of range. It's engines idling to keep it in a slowly orbiting holding pattern around the fuel depot. Radio communication between Commander Amirmuaz and this other Skyranger eventually leads to a side hatch sliding open. Behind this hatch, a Russian trooper in Carapace armour kneels, shouldering a four-tube rocket launcher. Another hatch slides open on the opposite side of the craft to allow the backblast to vent. "Get to minimum safe distance Commander. Shots inbound!" radios Nuke, before squeezing off all four shots, spreading them across the depot. Two for the truck, and two for the depot itself. These rockets detonate in a conflagration, dispersing sticky napalm-like oil which catches light and burns with a brilliantly purifying flame. 
}}

4651/Cemetary Gate

2016-10-10T02:25:36Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/10/09 |Location=The Brutal Lands |Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia is going to save Inga from her Gods - by drowning her in the Sea of Black Tears, an..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/09
|Location=The Brutal Lands
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia is going to save Inga from her Gods - by drowning her in the Sea of Black Tears, and claiming her forever after for the Dead Gods of Metal.

Some heroes raise objections in a sensible and violent manner.
|Cast of Characters=975, 206, 525, 385, 1016, 42, 778, 495, 515
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Brutal Lands were dangerous; Incredibly so. What little civilization there was had long since crumbled into ruins when the Titans left to ascend as METAL GODS. DEMONS roamed the land freely, most organized into the TAINTED COIL - where Ophelia sought sorrow and hurt, they were simply disgusted by everything and wanted only blood. Heartless and cruel. Against them stood the IronHeade, a desperate band of human rebels run by .. well, formally by Lars. And to round off this three way struggle for METAL DOMINANCE was the Drowning Doom, seekers of Death, Morbid, and Sorrow. Making it from one place to another in the Western Continent was a gauntlet of clashing armies and patrols, ambushes and explosive murders. But at least it made sense. The EASTERN CONTINENT, however, had long fallen into a savagery unmatched anywhere else in the Brutal Lands. Life there was claw and the hunt, or sinking into the wet earth beneath the boney grip of a screaming skeleton. The land sloped slowly south, like a rotting body, towards the massive skull that capped the Sea of Black Tears. HERE, is the seat of Drowned Ophelia's power. The sky is forever overshadowed, storms crackling overhead - the sun had never touched this cursed place. Freezing fogs roll continually, and the presence of the undead is overwhelming; Whether it be small baby strollers creaking along abandoned graveyard lanes, huge Dirgibles humming overhead, or the rumbling roar of Zappers and church organs on wheels. Ghosts flick and move, moaning their grief to the air, while reapers ride across the land on glowing skeletal horses. And that's without getting into the undead ANIMALS, like walking guilotines or flying scythe-armed vulture-like things. Nothing lives here; At least, nothing -alive-. The closer one gets to the Sea of Black Tears, the worse it gets. The Drowning Doom is in full force, a mosh that never ends, with NecroMoshers and undead bouncing and screaming off one another as boulder implaced speakers pound METAL to drive them continually into a frenzy. Massive TreeBack Trolls wander about, ravens in the air and poisons in the water. This is not a place to arrive loud and proud; For DOOM holds sway here! And at the very front, is the STAGE. Massive and pillarly, with a huge DOOM BELL ringing. Lights swing and sway through the sky, lightning crackling and bouncing along metal spikes. And upon it? Inga - bound by her ankle, held upside down, arms tied behind her. The center piece on a rolling platform, the skull that caps the Sea of Black Tears waiting like an open mouth. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll stands at the side of the stage, a massive axe held cross-wise in her hand. Head bobbing slowly to the hammer of DEATH METAL - USually she'd be -out- there. Losing herself to it. Losing herself to the endless loathing of a life stolen from her by that tincan BITCH. But today she had to be on point; For whatever reason, the Queen of Tears had thrown her interest into this .. uh.. The stitched faced Kotone look-a-like glanced up towards the hanging prophetess. Whatever she was, Ophelia wanted to unleash her broken heart. Who knew? Maybe if she could see the future, and the Sea of Black Tears got it's black fingers into her heart - then the Sea of Black Tears could.. get into the future? Change it somehow? Find a way to hasten the Darkening of the Stars? Who knew. Either way, being here made Flesh Doll -stronger-, the black waters that suffused her form calling to kin and kith alike, the endless depths of the Sea. It didn't run very far on the surface; More of a lake, really. But it ran -deep-, and it ran -wide-, and there was no where in the Brutal Lands that it's black fingers did not seek. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     There is a roiling, ugly, awful noise somewhere up in front of that stage. It's like someone's taken an electric guitar, and shoved it neck first into a woodchipper, with the sound still on. Something is struggling at the very fabric of this Metal Reality.     It's more obvious though, as lightning starts to crackle and pop, smacking into rotten, ancient trees and standing stones from a point that's stage center from Inga and ophelia, up in the cheap seats.     The head of a hockey stick, with runes carved into it, suddenly shoves its way through... well, reality. It hooks itself into the fabric of space and time, and then rend downward, cutting at the air like it was a scrim on a stage. Behind it? The Never Never roils and shifts, and through that hole in alternate realites.. strides Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. And he is not a happy man. In fact, one might say he's mad as hell. There's a terrible fire in his eyes, that's matched by the force by which he blows the gate wide for a few of his allies who are tagging along.     He steps through, and draws his blasting rod and plants his feet. "OPHELIA."     Oh shit. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' There she hangs, like Odin from Yggdrasil, her clothes torn, her hair un-braided and tangled, staring into the fathomless depths of the Black Sea. It is difficult to tell from a distance if she is conscious or not. Her things have been taken, her walking stick, pouch, and various talismans are no where in sight. Even her mjolnir necklace has been taken. It can be assumed she put up a fight. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' There are probably a number of very good reasons why Yuna shouldn't be here. She's still sore and worn out from helping XCOM pull a rescue operation, she's still worried as hell about Yunomi, she gets a headache just THINKING about the last time she tangled with Ophelia, and she has songs that she should be rehearsing if it weren't for still being the worse for wear from the rescue mission. All of those pale in comparison to the fact that one of Yuna's friends is in trouble and needs help. Not that Inga is one of Yuna's *closest* friends; how close a friend she is doesn't matter. She's a friend, she needs help, Yuna is here for her. And she's here in Powered Form from the get-go, her normal diminutive stature supplemented by a large exoskeletal battlesuit, bulky and tanky with two big powered arms to supplement Yuna's own armored limbs; Shugoseiheki, her kite shield, is already in place on the left exo-arm. But even with all that armor, just setting foot in the Brutal Lands this close to the Sea of Black Tears makes Yuna cringe - not just because of the death metal (which makes her cringe in any case - seriously, that's *music?*), but with the darkness and the DOOM BELL and the corruption that permeates the local reality itself. It should be noted that Yuna is not inherently sensitive to the spiritual or the supernatural; she's only 'empathic' by virtue of naturally reaching out to the people she meets. She still feels it here: seeing it, hearing it, practically tasting it despite her mouth being closed. But she doesn't keep it closed for long; she may be up against music that carries its own inherent force beyond the physical, but a mundane song, if heartfelt, has its own version of power. It's worked for her before. o/~    Now a shooting star flies across the night sky     If you see it, what will you wish for?     The promise we exchanged when you started your journey     Is always in my heart It should work again ... if Ophelia doesn't twist her head off first. But distracting Drowned Ophelia should be equally useful - and more importantly, Yuna is singing to reach out to Inga, and to give her allies any support she can in the face of all-pervasive death metal. 

:'''{{#var:1016|Eithne Sullivan (1016)}} has posed:'''     She's never seen Harry Dresden this angry.     She doesn't think she's ever been this angry, either.     The Never Never feels /weird/, and she hangs on to his coattails (metaphorically, and also literally) as Harry cuts a path straight through to his partner. Eithne has always favored the direct approach though, and it doesn't get much more direct than /stabbing your way through realities/.     Ma would probably approve, she figures.     The dark-haired Scion doesn't wear armor over her t-shirt and plaid skirt, but she's tugging that ridiculously-oversized sword behind her as she too steps through the rip.     The fire in her stomach isn't nearly a match for the one in Harry Dresden's eyes, but the sight of Inga dangling insensate makes her draw a stuttering breath through clenched teeth. She takes up Rhiannon in both hands.     Look at all the dead things. Look at the sea of monsters. It's between them and Inga.     It's going to have to go away.     The daughter of the Morrigan charges past Harry and their allies, boots pounding on the ground, and plows into the morass of undeath with a sound that could be a shriek and a laugh, leading with a horizontal swipe that could have felled a young tree. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren follows Dresden through the hole made by his apparently dimensional hockey stick! For him, this is mostly about saving an ally, though he can appreciate what Dresden's going through after what happened last year.     As the catboy sees the landscape and its inhabitants, he can only think: I did not bring nearly enough kaboom. This is a job for the Star Hawk with a full load of missiles and an army of golems. Just... destroy everything. Instead, they'll just have to be quick, get Inga and go -- or maybe someone will have a way to hold off the horde.     He does what he can on foot to thin Ophelia's responding forces while allies act: With his left hand he fires the laser rifle and its built-in grenade launcher into the necromoshers, while his right hand throws additional plasma grenades and fires the armor's beam cannons. He seems to have missed the 'metal album cover' mark and landed in 'FPS game box art' territory, but that's close, right?     "Inga! We're here for you!" 

:'''{{#var:778|Kyle Katarn (778)}} has posed:'''     Kyle's felt rage like this before. He's felt that uncontrollable urge to tear -everything- down in his way between him and those he loves, damn the consequences and damn anybody who tells him otherwise. He's done this roaring rampage of rescue and revenge before himself, and slew a great many mercenary, Stormtrooper, and Dark Jedi alike in his wake.     He's never really had a chance to consider what that means for him, but Kyle's always been one to focus on more direct matters. It's why he's tagged along with Dresden and the others, if only to try and mitigate whatever chaos Dresden may cause.     That said, all hell breaks loose pretty swiftly. Kyle's lightsaber flashes to life with that familiar hissing noise and the smell of ozone when the blue blade manifests. It hums with every motion no matter how slight, and Kyle pops his neck as he comes out of that portal running. The Force carries his every step, making him faster than any human should be, before he leaps into the fray.     Raising a fist, he uses the FOrce to unleash a blast of psychic might with the velocity of a cannonball, aiming directly for the undead moshpit to scatter their ranks. He'll make his landing, and do so with a wide swipe of his lightsaber, cutting down any of the undead unfortunate enough to get too close. 

:'''{{#var:495|Riva Banari (495)}} has posed:''' This isn't how Riva thought things were going to go down. Frankly, no one REALLY expects some avatar of death metal to go steal one of your best friends in order to seal the eyes of the wyrd or whatever reason someone might do things to Inga. But she should have. She really, really should have. Mentally marking another line under 'Psyber Was Right', she joins the rescue team, picks up her heaviest artillery, and gets to work. Riva follows along with Harry, dropping right into the middle of... What is probably the most twisted hellscape she's looked at in months. Her face screws up, the environment hitting her supernatural senses like a ton of METAL BRICKS, and she staggers for a moment just under the sheer weight of the corruptive, deadly environment. "Holy crap." She mutters. "This place..." She shakes her head, then straightens, steeling herself to the nightmarish tableau of destruction and mayhem before her. "No one deserves this place. Riva steps forward, looking over the horde as people begin blasting holes in the moshpit and environment. From a rippling wave in space she pulls out a massive two-handed anchor-headed mace, a massive Ajoran cross that is inlaid with silvery metal that begins searing with bright red-gold power. She sets it across one shoulder as she gestures. "Hey. Look. I don't know who you are, but you've got my friend. I'm going to ask you nicely to give her back. She means a lot to me." She doesn't say what she'll do if Inga isn't returned. She figures everything speaks pretty well as to that. 

:'''{{#var:515|Wuyin Tsai (515)}} has posed:''' The gate practically explodes open with the force of Dresden's dramatic entrance. His allies are arrayed for battle, dressed and armed for combat. Wuyin Tsai is wearing a hoodie and a pair of cheesy 3D glasses. This is about as serious mode as he gets. The Dragon (conspiracy, not creature; easy mistake to make) walks out of the gateway to the Nevernever like it was the most natural thing in the world. To him, it might as well be; he spends plenty of time traversing the branches of the World Tree, where time and space are mere suggestions instead of hard and fast rules, and his body, mind and soul are inured to such hazards. Dresden's access to a similar method of transit is an important note, and would have almost been worth the trip alone if he wasn't also getting something out of it in the future. Companionship doesn't mean much when you're in the pocket of something like the Dragon. Favors do. Wuyin starts forward, one hand lightly resting on the pommel of Stinging Whisper, the elegant straight sword hanging at his hip in complete contradiction to the street clothes he's otherwise wearing. He looks up and spots Inga, idly adjusting his 3D glasses with one hand, bee-lining for her like he didn't have a care in the world. He does, though -- all that /noise/. It's the kind of discordance that the Buzzing loves to whisper into, the box fan they press their metaphorical mouths to and sing along with lyrics not quite right for the beat provided. Picking it out is the trick. Here, it might be the trap. Wuyin claps a hand on Riva's shoulder as he passes her, as calm as he ever is. He raises his voice. "Inga!" Wu yells, bellowing over the din. "If you're conscious and aware, squirm!" 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll Kotone-look-a-like looks away from Inga and narrows her eyes at the arriving heroes. She watches as Eithne plows in, giant sword in her hand and growls. Maybe she wanted to be the only metal chick with a big weapon here today? With all the rage of a petty high school girl who has discovered another girl has worn the same dress to prom, Flesh Doll gives her axe a spin and rushes toward Eithne, letting the METAL carry her dark heart toward beautiful violence. Flesh doll leaps up high, unnatural strength propelling her ten feet or so in the air, battle-axe falling with a self-indulgent scream of rage. 3....2....1 FIGHT! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia is there, of course - up on her stage. Soaking in it. Reveling in the grief laced loathing that rolls off this place, that imbues and soaks every square meter of the southern Eastern Continent; The Haunted Forest. A place where is no respite, but a new and more horrible existance. The crazed, mad sorrow that drives people to slice their own wrists, to wrap ropes around their necks, to do anything to escape; To partake the Black Tears, hunting power, hunting solace, hunting -a fucking way out-. And it welcomes all comers. It invites them in, the bitter-sweet liquid of Sorrow to stopper a bleeding heart. To wash away the agony of living with an infinite sorrow. Nothing ever hurts you like yourself; From that comes the strength that every pain beyond you is pitiful compared to what lay in your broken heart. The Black Tears nearly shattered the demonic hold on this world, after all - before those infected by it's sorrow turned on those without. Dangerous enough to frighten and murder the Titans. Dangerous enough to bring a few back as the Dead Gods of Metal. And here comes Harry; The discordant noise comes screaming in like hell's own mouth, leaving HEROES. MOTHER FUCKING HEROES. And the biggest MOTHER FUCKER of all, HARRY DRESDEN. For all the rage, for all the hate, for even as explosions ripple into the Drowning Doom caught unaware - bodies exploded, ichor splattering - there is only a smile on Ophelia's face. Cold. Brittle. But -pleased-. Her clawed hands briefly tickling down Inga's chin as her eyes flicker aside. "Oo. I knew you were going to hurt some people, Inga.." She begins to the unconscious figure, before she lifts the Six Stringed Sorrow. Blue candlelights flicker to life, and she turns her eyes to the sky. "But I didn't think you'd bring me -so much fucking hate-." She cackles, and her arm swings up wide; The METAL pauses - as if in anticipation - before that arm swings down hard. THRASHING. The sky above roars, crackles, lightning flickering in a circle as if in a whirlwind. And something above grows brighter and brighter as the clouds part to reveal - a MOON. In the middle of the fucking day. A skeletal grin peering down at the poor mortals below, as Ophelia? She SUMMONS THE MOTHER FUCKING ALL ENCOMPASSING GLOOM. Unless it's -strong-, it'll flicker out. Cutting off all other sources of power in this place, in HER throne. Weakening even the strongest beneath the hammer of DEATH METAL, likely causing the escape portal to - flicker out. The blue wake candles flaring up like explosive fireworks as she laughs, tears pouring down her face. "Hey, good news; You're all going to die here." Four Grave Diggers - zombies who dress alike to show how individual they are - take hold of the platform Inga dangles from, and begin rolling it towards the giant skull, in which lays the Sea of Black Tears, hidden from the sky. Why didn't Ophelia do this sooner? Because she WANTS the fucking heroes here. And then YUNA begins her fucking interferance! CHOICES. The Queen of Tears snarls, and upnods. A massive tree uprooting itself from the ground beneath the stage, climbing out of the hole; A huge troll, with the tree growing from its back. Ravens caw and scream from the dead branches above its sloped head as it stomps towards Yuna. Already launching themselves forward, like arrows. The troll's steps shuddering the ground as it ROARS Staren's lasers rip through zombies and hateful undead alike, shattering bone and flesh. Bombs pop in the thrashing mass, throwing up bodies and leaving brief gaps in the crowd. But already, one can see more creatures stumbling from the furthest fog; A black tide of maddened, freakish undead. For him personally, however, is something worse - ghosts. Lasers rip through their spectral form, the rotting spook briefly brushing imaginary dust off his suit. Then snarls, face transforming into something beastial as it rips for the future-tech man; Other spooks joining him, beelining. Where the flesh was weak, the black souls were strong. A zapper yanks and tugs at 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia is there, of course - up on her stage. Soaking in it. Reveling in the grief laced loathing that rolls off this place, that imbues and soaks every square meter of the southern Eastern Continent; The Haunted Forest. A place where is no respite, but a new and more horrible existance. The crazed, mad sorrow that drives people to slice their own wrists, to wrap ropes around their necks, to do anything to escape; To partake the Black Tears, hunting power, hunting solace, hunting -a fucking way out-. And it welcomes all comers. It invites them in, the bitter-sweet liquid of Sorrow to stopper a bleeding heart. To wash away the agony of living with an infinite sorrow. Nothing ever hurts you like yourself; From that comes the strength that every pain beyond you is pitiful compared to what lay in your broken heart. The Black Tears nearly shattered the demonic hold on this world, after all - before those infected by it's sorrow turned on those without. Dangerous enough to frighten and murder the Titans. Dangerous enough to bring a few back as the Dead Gods of Metal. And here comes Harry; The discordant noise comes screaming in like hell's own mouth, leaving HEROES. MOTHER FUCKING HEROES. And the biggest MOTHER FUCKER of all, HARRY DRESDEN. For all the rage, for all the hate, for even as explosions ripple into the Drowning Doom caught unaware - bodies exploded, ichor splattering - there is only a smile on Ophelia's face. Cold. Brittle. But -pleased-. Her clawed hands briefly tickling down Inga's chin as her eyes flicker aside. "Oo. I knew you were going to hurt some people, Inga.." She begins to the unconscious figure, before she lifts the Six Stringed Sorrow. Blue candlelights flicker to life, and she turns her eyes to the sky. "But I didn't think you'd bring me -so much fucking hate-." She cackles, and her arm swings up wide; The METAL pauses - as if in anticipation - before that arm swings down hard. THRASHING. The sky above roars, crackles, lightning flickering in a circle as if in a whirlwind. And something above grows brighter and brighter as the clouds part to reveal - a MOON. In the middle of the fucking day. A skeletal grin peering down at the poor mortals below, as Ophelia? She SUMMONS THE MOTHER FUCKING ALL ENCOMPASSING GLOOM. Unless it's -strong-, it'll flicker out. Cutting off all other sources of power in this place, in HER throne. Weakening even the strongest beneath the hammer of DEATH METAL, likely causing the escape portal to - flicker out. The blue wake candles flaring up like explosive fireworks as she laughs, tears pouring down her face. "Hey, good news; You're all going to die here." Four Grave Diggers - zombies who dress alike to show how individual they are - take hold of the platform Inga dangles from, and begin rolling it towards the giant skull, in which lays the Sea of Black Tears, hidden from the sky. Why didn't Ophelia do this sooner? Because she WANTS the fucking heroes here. And then YUNA begins her fucking interferance! CHOICES. The Queen of Tears snarls, and upnods. A massive tree uprooting itself from the ground beneath the stage, climbing out of the hole; A huge troll, with the tree growing from its back. Ravens caw and scream from the dead branches above its sloped head as it stomps towards Yuna. Already launching themselves forward, like arrows. The troll's steps shuddering the ground as it ROARS 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Staren's lasers rip through zombies and hateful undead alike, shattering bone and flesh. Bombs pop in the thrashing mass, throwing up bodies and leaving brief gaps in the crowd. But already, one can see more creatures stumbling from the furthest fog; A black tide of maddened, freakish undead. For him personally, however, is something worse - ghosts. Lasers rip through their spectral form, the rotting spook briefly brushing imaginary dust off his suit. Then snarls, face transforming into something beastial as it rips for the future-tech man; Other spooks joining him, beelining. Where the flesh was weak, the black souls were strong. A zapper yanks and tugs at his restraints, tearing himself loose from his execution chair. And as Kyle cuts through the METAL FUCKING ZOMBIES WITH GLOWING BLADES OF DEATH, it moves to intercept; Electricity crackling and hissing along the metal pipe in its hand as it meets lightsaber with hot electric DEATH. Look familiar, Kyle? Same trick ye olde Grievous used~ "Y-y-y-you've got SPA-SP-SPARK!" It cackles, broken teeth in peeled back lips, all blackened from the electricty that flows through it's form. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Riva's massive mace is impressive - so is the belly of the monster that climbs in front of her. A bald, seedy looking dead man, his belly bloated with -something- that wriggles and crawls. "That's your friend?" He giggles, saliva dribbling down the side of his mouth. "I -love- friends. Do you want to meet mine? They're so -adorable-." He rubs his bulging belly, and puts a hand to his lips. "Oop! See? They're kicking~" He gasps, gags, and then hunches over. And -BLACK ICHOR- pours from his mouth, rolling on itself as it forms - rats. Thousands of rats, red eyed and nasty, pouring across the ground in a wave. Nothing survives in front of them; Biting off legs of their own forces in a decadant wave of HUNGER, heading right for her! As Wuyin progresses, he may find his steps suddenly slowing; A fog creeping up around his ankles. "Squirming's a good idea." States a voice from beside Wuyin. "A real good idea." States another. Grave Diggers step forward en-masse, wielding massive silver shovels. All of them invariably dressed the same, to show off just how individual they are. "I mean, a good idea because you should be squirming." "Ah, man, you ruined the joke." "It's okay; Everything's ruined anyways. Just chop him up." Nodding in agreement, all of the Grave Diggers suddenly launch forward. Behind them stands a Bride, humming a particular march as she hoists a small umbrella above her head. Her own personal thunderstorm hovering and crackling, while the poison curses roll from her very form. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "No fair! If I can /see/ the ghost, light should work on it!" Staren manifests his wings and flies away from the ghost, still firing a grenade or two down on the undead crowd but too distracted to use all weapons properly. "Guys? Can anyone kill ghosts?!" 

:'''{{#var:1016|Eithne Sullivan (1016)}} has posed:'''     They're in her way, so. They die. They put up a good fight, most of them! It's just that Eithne's a good fight, herself. She knows her role here. It's even something she's good at! All she has to do is kill and kill and kill, so someone else can save Inga.     She can do that, oh yes.     She looks up from where she's repeatedly stomping on someone's face at the sound of a scream coming closer, greatsword moving automatically into position to defend. Bedivere's lessons are sticking, it seems... That axe meets her sword in a clash of metal that makes her head ring. Her boot slips off of the ruined skull it'd been trodding on; if her other foot weren't planted so, she'd have been slammed into the muddy ground herself.     Gritting her teeth, Eithne /shoves/ back at the other girl, all of her monstrous strength applied via the shield of a battered, discarded sword older than some nations. "Fuck off, would yeh?" she asks sweetly, poison spilling from her lips, and aims a savage kick for the Doll's gut. 

:'''{{#var:778|Kyle Katarn (778)}} has posed:'''     The Force feels -very- off to Kyle. It's not dissimilar to Dromund Kaas, in the way it feels; There's self-hatred and sorrow etched into its very fiber, the air itself is heavy and rough on the Jedi both mentally and physically. Yet here he still goes, cutting through moshers with terrifying speed like his lightsaber is a buzz saw.     He finds himself facing a particularly electric opponent, and he pops his neck. "Bring it." is all he has to say, before his lightsaber clashes against the Zapper's makeshift electrostaff. It SHOULD be slicing through the crude iron rod, but instead the two weapons clash against one another, and Kyle realizes this is gonna be a good bit more of a problem than he hoped.     He spies Flesh Doll in the corner of his eye, and he can't help but feel surprised at how much like Kotone the construct looks. He tries to keep focused however, trading strikes and parries with the Zapper. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' In response to hearing the voices yelling her name, and Wuyin's instructions, Inga does appear to stuggle slightly in her bonds. She's held tight, but can crane her neck to look toward the friends that have gathered to try to stop what Ophelia is trying to do to her. It is a real pity that her own wyrd is often fuzzy, for she obviously did not see this coming. Not until it was too late. Immortal but helpless. It isn't the Filth, but it is close enough to be extremely disturbing, and while Inga knows she has a resistance to the filth, she doesn't know if she has such resistances to the Black Tears. She should have known, after all Ophelia has done and said. Inga has made her angry by trying to save her. And in her own demented way, Ophelia is trying to save /her/. Save her from the visions. Save her from what she percieves to be shackles laid on her by the gods. Ophelia wants freedom through misery. Now that's a twisted knot, isn't it? There might not be anything to save Ophelia now. While she is still convinced Ophelia cannot be defeated with brute violence, the people who have gathered? They're good at getting /creative/. She can feel Harry's rage from the cheap seats. She's never seen him truly angry until now. Yuna's song helps to counter-act the dizzying effect of Ophelia's music, helping Inga to clear her head--though thinking is still considerably more difficult while upside-down. Her vision is blurred, but she thinks she spots Eithne, Riva, Staren...and a glowing sword? Kyle? And Wuyin? Bit of a surprise, that. Inga narrows her eyes as Ophelia caresses her with her nails, managing to raise her middle-finger in response. "You have no idea what you've done," she says to Ophelia, laughing. "But I do." Then the stage LURCHES and Inga gasps, swinging, her hair waving like a white flag in the breeze. Inga continues to struggle, though she is obviously not strong enough to break free from the bonds. She keeps turning her bounds hands, irritating the skin... 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' o/~    In a sleepless night, it's your voice I want to hear     Talking all night until the morning sun rises Truth be told, Yuna's singing as much for her own sake as for that of her allies and friends - if she lets the Black Tears' metal win, she'll be crushed as well ... emotionally, perhaps, but that'll be just as deadly as if the TreeBack Troll crushes her physically. She keeps singing. o/~    Side by side, talking enraptured,     Your profile was shining ... The armored idol looks up at the troll, bringing Shugoseiheki up to try and bat the ballistic ravens away - mostly protecting her face, but trying to minimize the combined impacts as well. Sure, Powered Form is heavily armored, but it still draws on the Light Suit's defensive aura to protect her, and THAT has its limits. Limits which are already kind of strained due to one recent fight too many. And she's too busy singing to strategize out loud - if she interrupts long enough to talk, whatever meager protection her song provides will be interrupted as well. o/~    You who follow your dreams, I who watch over you,     The same star sheds its light on us both     I want to walk without looking back     Enduring my tears until I see you leave At least she can deal with her *own* attacker. The lenses set into her exo-frame's shoulders slide open, revealing the emitter arrays of her beam cannons; energy crackles around those mechanisms as Yuna diverts energy and focus from defensive efforts to offensive, and her voice grows more defiant as she continues singing. As the song says, she doesn't want to look back; she *will* endure her tears. But in this case, she wants to see somebody *return,* not send them off on a journey from which there may be no return. And just as the TreeBack Troll looms directly over her, the beam cannons fire - not quite *straight* upwards, but their force is meant to tear through the troll and the tree, not the rest of the army. o/~    Now a shooting star flies across the night sky     If you see it, what will you wish for?     The promise we exchanged when you started your journey     Is always in my heart The Matrix Divider materializes in Yuna's (own) hands as the beam cannons' blast tapers off, but rather than opening up on anything else, she's keeping her shield ready through the second chorus - and if the troll survived her beam cannons, that's still going to be her concern. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     And then the battle is good and fucking started, and Harry's thunderous entrance is doused by the Gloom of the Black Tears, the Drowning Doom coming out en force to start shit.     Well, technically he's starting shit in their house, but that's besides the point.     But there's a problem, a big problem right now. The pathway to the Never Never seals shut with shudder, sparkles of mist left in its wake. There's lightsabers and lasers and fuckin' metal shit going on... But at the center of the Heroes, there's... A drumbeat, from Harry's position. Cause it's not the Blasting Rod he's got out. It's a rune-carved drumstick, that he's tapping against his thigh.     Badadada dum.         Badadada dum.             Badadada dum.     He's not stupid, he's studied this place, because that's what wizards do. He's bringing his own music with him, even as Yuna is harassing the locals with her K-Pop garbage.     The wizard keeps walking forward, letting the growing CHAOS of the battle around him build, feeding on the Heroes and the Doom fighting as he lifts up the Hockey Stick... and calls down the Thunder. A CRACK of Lightning strikes one of the Grave Diggers pushing Inga's cart towards the skull, melting off his face in a horrific manner. The Stick lifts again, and this time the Lightning swats at the Stage, cracking against the Doom Bell. Dresden's out of the Cheap Seats Section and moving for Front Row Regions. His voice, resonant and hateful, lifts over the battle.     "YOU HAVE SOMEONE THAT I BELONG TO. LET. HER. GO. Or I will BURN THIS WHOLE HELLSDAMNED PLACE TO THE GROUND. FUEGO!" The Hockey Stack ROARS into a blaze of fire, and Dresden charges the stage. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll grits her teeth. Oh yes, she looks so much like Kotone...but she is /flesh/, bitter and dark and ANGRY! The Kotone look-a-like flies back when she is pushed, landing on her feet and bringing her axe around to guard low against Eithne's kick. Eithne is strong, but the Tears have made the flesh doll strong, too. She shoves the sword away and rushes at Eithne again, spinning her axe for another attempted chop, followed by a low sweep, trying to knock Eithne from her feet, eyes burning with rage and sorrow. 

:'''{{#var:495|Riva Banari (495)}} has posed:''' The dramatic rebuttal of Drowned Ophelia is a mark of a professional. No, she doesn't back down once she's thrown down. Riva can kind of respect that, really. Of course, the fact that this was all her plan the entire time, well... Why get one hero when you can get a half dozen? And then she taps one black and 2, bringing out the Gloom. Riva staggers under the suppressing, overwhelming force, the Templar gritting her teeth as she feels interference against her Anima power. The light running along her mace flickers... But Yuna's own singing helps keep her stabilized, Riva unlimbering the mace... What she doesn't expect is the man that assails her, his belly wriggling. Her eyes widen at the unholy, vomitous sight, and for a moment she looks like she's going to do so herself... But she reels in disgust. "Seriously...? Seriously? Is this really /necessary/?" Riva grates as the man taunts her... And as the wave of horrific rats starts up, the Templar's knuckles go white on the hilt of her weapon. She doesn't have a witty comment to follow up with. The mace does the talking for her as she brings the weapon up, and hammers it down into the ground, the blackened, dead ground crackling with runnels of energy as she floods it forward, causing it to explode upwards in a rolling wave of earth and searing, cleansing energy. 

:'''{{#var:515|Wuyin Tsai (515)}} has posed:''' 'This place,' Wuyin thinks, 'reminds me a great deal of Kingsmouth.' The gloom rolls in; fog follows it. Wuyin slows, feeling an unpleasant tingling crawl up his spine. Invisible fingers drag their skeletal tips across his back, creeping and crawling into a place of prominence and clutching at his throat with all it's strength. It doesn't find physical flesh; instead, it finds a vein, a honey-sweet pipeline of purest Anima from the font of the world. From the Mother. From Gaia. It /squeezes/. Wuyin's Anima-antenna quivers, the busily buzzing Buzzing bee suddenly enwrapped by a haze of malice. The stifling stuff curls around it, a vile obscenity that tries to hook its syllabic talons into the tick-tick-tocking thing that connects Wuyin to the Source. It starts to take hold, to rip and rend, to cut him off and fill his ears with whispers on the death of hope. Except there were /already/ whispers. The words were always there, sweetlings. You just have to listen. Wuyin listens. He hears many things, and almost none of them are the poorly-dressed thugs that creep through the fog behind him. His lip twitches, trying to follow along with words that can hardly be expressed with sound. He takes a breath, slow and deep, and exhales with a great sigh of relief and distress. He half-turns, spying the Grave Diggers. His head is canted, neck bent in an uncomfortable, unnatural way. He speaks to them, but his voice is strange, possessed of a cadence that makes the skin crawl with its warm, lilting, wholly inhuman intonations. It's like someone was trying to figure out how to speak with a human mouth and only got halfway there. They are heard, but the words make ears ring and onlookers shift uncomfortably. "Viscera stains the cobbled streets of Chelm --" Wuyin intones in the manner of a lost and quite mad storyteller. He draws his sword, Stinging Whisper's artful lines and gold-inlaid designs of bees ascending a thorny branch glittering despite the gloom. "-- a message inked in the blood of innocents. The message reads:" They attack. The ground at Wuyin's feet lights up, lines of golden Anima tracing hexagons that pulse up from the sickened ground. "'You are all fools'." The fog receeds from his feet, but not of its mistress's volition. Wuyin moves like gravity was merely a polite suggestion, sliding forward and punching past the group of Grave Diggers in a blur. He touches the toe of his shoe to the edge of the hexagonal space, an arena of his own creation, a house that the Master built, and easily about-faces to strike them from behind. His momentum ceases because he asked it to. It obeys. Each touch of his blade is accompanied by a peal of thunder, strikes with superhuman strength and speed fueled by the breath of Gaia funneled into this poor, unfortunate vessel. Stinging Whisper acts as an extension of his body and his soul, a perfect conduit for channeling the pure life that is Anima into a form that brings little more than death. He strikes one after another with deep thrusts and dances back, slashing in a whirlwind with the tip of the jian -- and turning the prior wounds into outpourings of gore, intensifying at the second touch and that golden spark. Wuyin smiles, very slightly, the whole time. He isn't aware he's even doing it. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The cackling spooks follow Staren up as he flies upwards, explosions rippling through intagible forms. They whisper promises; Promises of -hate-, of -pain- eternal, of -ceaseless weeping and loss-. The spiral about one another, and to an outsider it might be the most beautiful thing; A triple helix following the trail of Staren's ascent with the pale blue of spectral ecotplasm. One of the spectres suddenly swings in to cut off Staren a bit early, claws forming where once where fingers- BOOM It shrieks, caught in an explosion of Staren's device in the moment of solidity. Chunks of its form evaporating as it falls aside. So there IS a way. The other two howl their disontent, and come from both ends. Waiting until the last possible moment to assume solidity so they can rip and tear in a cross path. Crossing over and over again, in fly-by passes. Remember the Twins from the Matrix? Same idea. Hope you brought a LOT of ammo~ 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Kyle's lightsaber draws sparks and hisses from the electrified iron pole; And while Sparky may be able to deflect the plasma lance, he's not nearly as -skilled- as Kyle. There is a flash and a hiss, the monster's arm lopped off at the shoulder, along with half of it's head. It staggers back, and for a moment is about to fall down, releasing a gurgling death scream; Then it pauses. It's one eye rolls as it refocuses on the jedi. "D-d-d-did I f-fool you?" It asks, black ichor pouring from wounds that would kill any lesser thing. Then it presses the attack, swinging that pole one handed with more strength and speed than should be available to the frail, blackened thing. Cackling madly; No pain without will ever match the pain within. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Troll reels back, angrily howling as it pounds at the ground with it's massive fists, thumping closer and closer to Yuna. As if in pain. PAIN - at her SINGING. "YOU NO GOOD SINGING!" It screams in a decibel that'd rattle guts. "YOU GO DIE OF BUTT CANCER! YOU MAKE ME WANT KILL SELF BUT IN BAD WAY!" The Troll raises massive fists upwards, briefly eclipsing the skull moon above as it prepares to flatten the upcoming K-Pop Star. "YOU MUSIC WAS NEVER GOOOOOOOO-" BLAST! The top of its head disappears in a mist of GIANT FUCKING MATRIX LASER BEAMS. And it thumps down to its knees, swaying backwards. And then pauses. Black ichor bubbling from the stump of its neck - along with a gurgling voice. "... YOOOUUR VOOIIICE IIIS LIIIIIKE GLASSSS IN EYEBAAAAALLS..." DEATH METAL FANS don't need no fucking brains. The Troll sweeping out with a massive fist, quite suddenly; Looking to bowl the singer over. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Ichor Rats squeal and die in fire, the swarm scattering and breaking beneath Riva's purging magic. Because FIRE MOTHER FUCKER. MOTHER FUCKER FIRE. But as the flames boil upwards, sickened and black by what they contain, something larger wobbles through. Flames licking up his suit pants, the RATGUT stumbles towards Riva, fat and dead - looking to GRAB HOLD OF HER. "MY BABIES! YOU KILLED MY BABIES! NOW I MAKE MORE BABIES IN YOU!" He shrieks, gibbering, skin rotting and pulled tight around the corner of his wide mouth and around his long nose. In point of fact, he looks a bit like a rat himself. If he gets a hold of her? Black ichor'll begin trickling from his lips as he -hurks-. Guess what's coming next? Oh yeah. She got the dirty stick. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears only -smiles- at Inga's words, as the seer is rolled away. "Oh, I know exactly what I've brought, sweetie.." She begins, chin lowering, the ichor of Black Tears curling about her in ectoplasmic fury. "-I brought the ones who love you-." Her insane, broken giggle is almost girlish; Innocent in its in madness. The scorpion riding the tortoise, so far beyond salvation because it's simply -in her fucking nature-. And then she's facing Harry, teeth bright white behind black lips. Happiness has nothing to do with that smile as she opens her arms; As if welcoming an old friend. "Oh, I'm not stopping you. Go on - go and join her. Join her in the depths, and be together -forever-.." She lifts her chin, waiting for the agony, the pain, WANTING it for some reason- And then the fucker goes and hits her MOTHERFUCKING STAGE. The Doom Bell chimes out loudly, the very air rippling with the hit. And the Queen SCREAMS in pain, clutching claws over her ears before she snarls. Playtime's over. THEY KNOW. "PROTECT THE FUCKING STAGE!" She commands, before the Six Stringed Sorrow comes back up again. Her knees bent, back swaying as she HAMMERS a new tune. Fog rolling from the stage itself, freezing and cold. Lightning crackling across the bars poking towards the sky, then crashing into the bell proper; A soulful, mournful tolling before it LAUNCHES towards Harry. Leaving exploding pillars of flame in its wake. METAL, MOTHERFUCKER. A whumping above reveals the presence of DIRGIBLES, as spotlights swing into the mosh crowd slash battle below. And .. urns begin dropping? They shatter, black ash rising. Where the ash drifts - the UNDEAD THINGS CRAWL BACK TO THEIR FEET. Wounds in dead flesh beginning to knit closed, laughter rising from the hoardes. The Black Tears are poison for the living - but salve to the DEAD. One of the four pushes drops dead - FACE MELTER, MOTHERFUCKER. The other two groan at the poser and continue to push, but MUCH slower now. That thing's heavy. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The White Naughts die once more; Cut to ribbons beneath a mad man's dance, a MOTHERFUCKING BUZZZZZZ CUT! But the Bride seems unperturbed, placing a gloved hand to her lips as she breathes out softly. "Oh my! You're so familiar - are you my love?" She asks, almost pleading. A soft patter of tears falling from her cheeks. "I miss him so dearly. All I wanted was children. Do you like children?" "Weeeeee dooooooo.." Comes the voice from one of the quivering piles of flesh about Wuyin's feet. The flesh beginning to knit itself together once more; The White Naughts rising to defend M'LADY BRIDE. The scrape of bone reattaching, the pop of ligaments and the clunk of razor sharp shovels being picked back up. "Not cool." "You shouldn't be hurting girls." "Yeah. She's had enough of your shit." "I'll crawl in your skin." They all eh-heh-heh together at that joke. "Heh. Crawling in my skin, get it?" And then they spread out, swinging not all at once - but taking turns. Covering and moving with one another. They can't -outfight- Wuyin -but can they OUTLAST him? 

:'''{{#var:778|Kyle Katarn (778)}} has posed:'''     VOOMP. Lightsaber slicing through undead flesh, Kyle feels he's won. At least at first, anyway. He keeps his weapon trained on the Zapper as it keels over, only for Kyle to leap backwards in surprise. "SPAST!" $    Easy to say, this is going to be a messy fight given how frenzied this guy is. He raises his lightsaber, delivering swift and shallow lightsaber swipes to parry the Zapper's strikes, keeping his distance accordingly. "You don't give up, do you?" He asks, almost impressed by how determined a guy who is literally falling apart just keeps going.     Of course, he does have a trick up his sleeve. Making a fist, Kyle tightens his fingers before he dishes out a blast of Force energy, intending to blow the Zapper apart. 

:'''{{#var:1016|Eithne Sullivan (1016)}} has posed:'''     Her foot slams into the flat of Doll's axeblade, and it feels like kicking the side of a truck. Except that in Eithne's experience, trucks dent. The axe doesn't.     But she gets enough space to recognize and dodge the Doll's next chop, though the same can't be said about the low sweep that comes after. She's knocked off of her feet, landing hard on her side in a puddle of blood and black ichor.     But she is her mother's daughter, and it will take far more than that to injure her. Eithne reaches for the Doll's ankle, palm splitting open to sprout a gruesome thorn as thick as a stake, and tries to drag her down into the muck with her. That thorn drips poison, and it'll stick if it hits true--     There's so much going on around her. Fighting and shrieking and the stage and the rats and the ghosts and the wheel, the wheels, Inga being wheeled so slowly toward the black forever. Eithne grits her teeth, /YANKS/ at the Doll's leg, and screams something in an inhuman language.     From the sky comes a murder of crows, some of them stolen from Ophelia, most of them not. Some of them dead and dripping maggots, some of them living and breathing, feathers shiny and slick. They KRAAAA and circle, wheeling through the riot of sound and stench and sprays of blood. They buffet the pallbearers themselves with their wings, peck and gouge at eyes and tongues.     And one sassy crows alights on Inga's feet to pick at her bonds. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     OH IT IS ON. Harry growls, knowing another piece of information. ...Honestly he was just trying to aim for Ophelia but maybe that's the answer here. He... grins. Oh man does he grin. Have you even seen a enraged man grinning? Because... let me tell you.     He lifts up his arm, the Shield Bracelet lashing up into place, sparks and fire drizzling from his wrist as a dull green energy field soak... well, mostly soaks the FIRE AND DEATH from the Stage Pyro. Heat and fire still seep through the shield, scorching Harry's hands, and singing at his eyebrows and beard.     He's still grinning. He lifts up the Hockey Stick, slams the handle against the aching and diseased dirt, and howls into the Sky That Knows No Sun. "PROTECT YOURSELF, /OPHELIA/."     A heavy, roiling wave of symbolic fire rises up at the Wizard's feet, and then rushes forward as he screams. "PYROFUEGO"     The Building Was On Fire, And It Was /ENTIRELY MY FAULT/. 

:'''{{#var:495|Riva Banari (495)}} has posed:''' Fire and light purges the initial swarm, and Riva leaps back, looking through the smoke and oily, diseased smoke to see what might be left. Unfortunately, it missed a spot. The approach of the Ratgut causes Riva to cry out, the creature rushing at her and trying to grapple at her. "NO!" Riva screams, slamming a foot out towards one of his legs uselessly, even as the nasty hand grabs at her. She can't get a good swing with him this close, but she's not going to take this lying down... With a grunt, she slams the butt of the mace up with one hand, trying to get a good shot in on the side of his head. "Just... GET OFF!" She cries, reaching down to grab into her coat. A moment later, an MP7 is brought out, striking from the opposite side as she pistol-whips, flicks the safety off and tries to jam the barrel right into the beast's mouth when he opens it to try to vomit out horror and death again, pulling the trigger and sending a wave of blue-green Anima energy bullets blasting into the thing's gullet. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' Fortunately for Yuna, she's able to re-angle Shugoseiheki to take the impact of the TreeBack Troll's fist - and for good measure, she's already powering up her hover-thrusters to try and counter the impact. Then it actually hits.             **WHAM!!!!!** Unfortunately for Yuna, even with the Wall of the Guardian Star taking the brunt of the impact, it still jars her hard enough to provide a literal reference for 'bone-rattling' - and the beginning of the next verse is choked off as Yuna gets sent flying. She was expecting that part, and even with Yuna's head spinning, Jiina 'steps in' enough to make sure Yuna lands upright; maybe not exactly vertical, but close enough to recover without having to clamber up off her back. And she got knocked far enough that even if she *were* singing, it's questionable whether her allies would hear enough to shelter them at all from Ophelia's noise. On the plus side, Harry has figured out that the stage is the critical weak point. Good; she was going to try and relay that when she had a chance to, but he's figured it out on his own and Ophelia is freaking hard enough to give everyone else a valuable clue on the subject. If they can win with that much, great. Yuna is now *just a little* more concerned with surviving the battle herself. That was her singing the TreeBack Troll was insulting, and if she stays quiet now, then it's technically kind of a loss. But Yuna's head is still spinning from the hit she took, and the 'music' from Ophelia's stage is ... well, it's not helping her regain her bearings, that's for sure. "Are you sure we're talking about the same music?" Yuna shouts back at the Troll - at least she can SEE that thing, thanks to the tree (or what's left of it). "Your boss's taste in singing is like red-hot iron needles in my eardrums; I'm surprised you could hear *my* song enough to complain about it!" Then again, Yuna was taught that words are a maiden's weapons - it's not a lesson she uses often, and the Multiverse doesn't generally grant enough weight to a well-chosen insult to do actual damage, but she *does* know how to return verbal fire like that. Now, if she could just muster her equilibrium and her strength to start shooting back *physically* too ... 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll grins when Eithen hits the ground, her expression rapidly shifting to surprise and back to rage as her ankle is grabbed and stuck with a poisonous thorn--ripping muscle and tendon, bringing the Flesh Doll down into the bloodied mud with Eithne. There's no room to wield the axe, so she instead slams out with a backfist toward Eithne's head as she falls, aiming to break her pretty face! "You bitch! How dare you!" she screams. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Try as she might, she just can't get herself to bleed and it is her own damn healing ability that is to blame. Her skin is healing faster than she can harm herself. Bloody irony. This place has been trying to swallow her since Ophelia took her, and she has been fighting it, that buzzing inside of her pumping life into her with every heart beat. Inga's always been a strong conduit. It is sort of...her thing. But in this place, it has been a struggle. Here, where Ophelia is most powerful, Inga felt....alone. But the Buzzing inside of her resonates with the others now, and her heart beats in time with the music her friends and loved ones have brought to combat Ophelia's sorrow. Now if only she could BLEED! Inga looks to Ophelia, about to speak...then her eyes roll back in her head and her body goes rigid, a gasp...and then she speaks in a voice not her own, filled with unnerving life constantly buzzing, thousands and thousands of wings forming words. "A Rabbi in Prague writes the name of God on a strip of paper. The paper falls into an old well and lands on dried mud. The ink forms a bridge and a neural circuit is engaged. Something awakens." A murder of crows arrives, further blackening the sky with wings and inky feathers. One plucky bird lands on her foot and Inga smiles even in the throws of her broadcast. The gods are with her. "Blood..." she says, hoping the bird will understand. All she needs is blood. 

:'''{{#var:515|Wuyin Tsai (515)}} has posed:''' Wuyin looks at the Bride with a quizzical expression. He takes a step towards her, a staggered one like he was suddenly unbalanced. He tilts his head, this way and that, trying to get her into focus where no focus is required. He seems to recognize her... but the resonance of the hive rolls outward, the metaphysical buzzing that finds Inga and comes back to him as they speak as one. "A man of clay follows a man of flesh down the cobbled streets," Wuyin says, voice curious. He takes another step towards her. "His circuits are damaged, silica connections bridged by an inferior contact." The White Naughts start to get back up. Wuyin looks down for a second, watching, eyes hidden behind his two-tone lenses. They speak and spread out, and Wuyin doesn't watch any one of them. He lifts his chin, head tilted back slightly. "The Rabbi asks him to dance. In need of a better master --" The first comes in. Wuyin reduces him to ribbons of meat on the ground again. The second follows, the shovel parried, turned aside, the swordsman scoring a cut on the Naught's belly before it withdraws. The next gets him in the opposite side, stabbing the razor-edged impliment into him, scraping a rib and coming away bloody. Wuyin staggers, steps into it, the blade biting deeper, and lops off his head. He pulls away. The shovel comes free. Blood soaks his side. He tilts one way, and then straightens, sword coming up to a guard position. The flow slows, stops, still leaving him awash in red. "-- he dances." Wuyin spins, striking the ground with his heel. A wave of freezing cold blasts out from him in a ring, covering the miniature arena he's inscribed in the ground with ice that grips, clings and holds fast. His free hand brushes a human effigy at his belt, a little one made of twisted-up copper wires. It shines, sparking like he struck a lighter. A huge, roiling ball of fire leaps off his open hand, flung at the Bride, exploding on contact with her or the ground or anything else and setting the whole place around them aflame. Wuyin seems unconcerned with the possibility he might be standing in it. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Those are terrible promises! Staren doesn't want any of those things! "Fuck you!"     And then one gets caught by a grenade. The explosion is close, sending Staren tumbling through the air, but he saw that... He slings the rifle over his shoulder, grabs something off his belt, and then is dual-wielding beam blades. They glow white with vaguely holy-aligned elementalness for good measure!     If the ghosts attack from much more than an arm's-length or two away, the forcefield blocks their physical form and then he stabs or slashes -- if they're closer, they get his armor. Ammo's not a problem now, but the question of how long his defenses will hold out /is/. "Why are there so many of you?!"     He tries electrifying the armor, so they're shocked as soon as they make contact. Maybe that will help? 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Sparky pops like an over-ripe melon from the sudden BLAST of force from Kyle. Wet pieces sprinkling the cursed ground in a splatter zone behind him, the half-gone head rolling to a stop as the blood stoked eye rolls. "O-o-oop! I've gone to pieces!" He giggles wetly, somehow able to talk even when blown apart. And then he gasps, half-lips still able to form words somehow. "W-wait.. n-n-no, don't l-l-leave.. I.. I d-d-din't mean too.. I d-d-d-din't mean t-t-to kill h-him..! W-wait! W-wait I-I-I'm innoc-c-c-cent! I-I d-d-d-don't want to d-d-die!.." Tears are coarse down it's empty cheek as it watches the jedi move past. At least, until the black ash drifts across him; There is a wet pop, and the pieces begin to pull themselves once more together. But the creature is still weeping. "N-n-not dead. H-e-e-e-e wa-wasn't supp-pp-pposed to die!" Finger reform. Arm rejoins. Eye squeezes shut, electricity hissing and crackling at the salty tears from the burnt, broken, maddened dead thing. The weeping slowly - ever so slowly - turns to laughter. Buzzing as electricity begins to build once again. Up and down the battle field, the same thing is happening. Those that are crushed, cut down, destroyed - they're rising once again. The DEATH METAL allows no rest, not -here-, not at the crest of INFINITE SORROW. Not with the ash petals of ichor floating in the air, choking every breath, removing point and purpose from the fight, dropped from the DIRGIBLES above. But for the moment, Kyle has a free shot forward, his path divided only by the lesser Walking Metal Dead Things. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' FIRE. FUCKING FIRE EVERYWHERE. Ophelia shrieks as the wave of enflambe rolls over her and the stage itself; Lighting props on fire, only to die down once more as the freezing fog continues to roll off. But damage it is, the DOOM BELL tolling mournfully, crashing and clashing with the pounding METAL that pervades this place. The Queen of Tears shrieks like a banshe, her claws curling up towards her face, a dark sillouette in a blazing pyre of Harry's devise. An Angel Witch at the Stake. She curls downwards, pieces falling away and evaporating, until she collapses into a mass. Growing smaller, even as the fires die. Where's the body?! The fires blackened, tainted by that which they consume.. Which is when the very ground beneath the Wizard explodes upwards. A pale blue arm, ending in blackened claws, looking to do nothing so much as to crawl -right the fuck up his leg-. Carrying a bleeding, -badly- burnted Ophelia with it. But those white teeth - those beautiful, straight white teeth - are opened in the biggest fucking smile you ever did see. Something hungry. "Oh, don't worry - that doesn't hurt nearly as much as what I do to myself.~" No more magic. No more fucking around. This man hurt her -fucking stage-. Her source, her show, her THEME. The broken moon skull above slowly fading as the storm clouds swirl to hide it once more, the ENCOMPASSING GLOOM fading as the stage cannot hold it. No, Ophelia gets right down to business, trying to do nothing less than bury those claws somewhere soft and warm - and TWIST. But at least that means she's no longer directing the METAL? And the platform has come to a full hault, the Grave Diggers harried by the maggoty crows. The the rope holding Inga - parts with a -snap-. Look out below! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Troll rises once more to its feet, and gets ready to follow up on Yuna - until she shouts back. It pauses, fist curling and uncurling uncertainty, before it finally gurgles. "Uh.. uh.. NO IT DOESN'T YOUR FACE DOES." It states. Then pauses again, gurgling in frustration as it pounds its fist on the ground beneath it. "WAIT. I MEAN, YOU SUUUUUCK." Another pause. "BECAUSE YOU CAN'T SING." Another. "JUST SHUT UP ALREADY YOU'RE SO STUPID. LIKE YOUR MOM!" It sways, the black ichor halting the parade down the top of its skull. But even as bone and brackish, twisted muscle begin to rebuild it back into shape, all that's left is an expression of worried confusion. People are supposed to cry and die! Not argue back - and do it better! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "MY BABIII-BLARGH" That'd be the sound of the top of RatGut disappearing into a black mist. The creature falling backwards and away from Riva, giving her some much needed breathing space. I mean, it still smells like BURNING SHIT, and the fires are turning blue from the corruption they're trying to devour. But at least there's not a freak trying to mate rodents in her guts or something freaky as fuck like that? .. At least, until the oversized, bloated body starts to wiggle and thrash. No. Nooo, surely not? SURE AS HELL NOT? Oh god yes. One can hear the rising SQUEAK OF DOOM. And with the mometary respite, she can see it's not ending. The mosh is getting back UP again, despite the alpha strike that made the corridor they needed. And other forms are crawling in from the cold mists, up from the ground or down from the sides of this valley. Heeding the call - the call of DOOM. Albeit, a lot are simply watching from the sidelines, those Tear Drinkers who never signed on with Ophelia. What, you think all DEATH METAL HEADS agree with one another? Not to mention the METAL is staggered, without Ophelia to direct it and with the stage damaged. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The White Naughts are frozen solid; Limbs creaking, mist pouring from their still forms as they are locked in place, even at the moment of their victory. They drew blood for M'LADY BRIDE. Maybe now she'll date one of them?! Which is when Wuyin uses the ultimate attack; Driving off the female in the room. The Bride has time for one sorrowful moan before she's FUCKING EXPLODED TAKE THAT MATRIMONY. Her veil drifting down from the remnants of her ashy pile, even as the White Naughts - shatter. Oh, they'd been shattered before, of course - Wuyin cut them to fucking ribbons again and again. But this time? This time they're -melting- as their frozen chunks burn. Ichor sinking into the poisoned earth, buying Wuyin - for the moment - some breathing room. But what happens if Inga gets dragged to the Sea of Black Tears? What if those dark waters get into the BUZZING - and change the song of the future? He and She would know more than anyone else just how fucking dangerous that can be. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' FUCKING HOLY BLADES! The Ghost shriek at last as weapons made to fight the undead are brought to bear; Ripped and torn, fluttering away from Staren's glorious sky-borne battle like tatters of ethereal confetti. But not all things go his way, for the sky above peels and crackles with power. Lightning crackling down to strike - an Organist. One part church organist, one part hot-rod, the Phantom looks up and smirks. Then begins pounding out a -new- tune. From his vantage point, Staren can see it even through the fog - the witch lights of spooks and spectres rising once more from the sucking earth, empty and hungry and -hungry-. 

:'''{{#var:1016|Eithne Sullivan (1016)}} has posed:'''     Eithne can't help it - even though the Doll's backhand snaps her head back, rattles her brain, she grins. Grins and grins and she's missing a tooth on the left side, and it shouldn't make her look so cute when she's covered in mud and black and blood.     She grabs for the Doll's hair, her shoulders, anything she can reach, and slams her new friend into the dirt with all her strength. And again. And again, until she's stopped. Bleeding and laughing, hurting and being hurt.     Sheela tilts his head at Inga's single word, eyeing her with eyes the same pale blue as his mistress's. He flaps his wings and flutters clumsily down to her wrists, gripping the ropes tight in his talons, and uses his sharp beak to dig and tear at the soft inner flesh of the seer's wrists until red starts to trickle down her fingers.     That's about when the rope snaps. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' The Flesh doll keeps fighting back, right up until, well, she doesn't. Around the third time her head hits the ground she stops moving, skull dented and flesh torn and bruised. It is not a pretty image, and all the more disturbing because she still looks so very much like a woman who was a friend to many present. She's not getting back up. Not today. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     Well this is shitty. Harry Dresden's fire and brimstone act... well okay that part's pretty bitching as the Stage crumbles and cracks and shows the damage and shoddy construction in places. Damn you, shitty Goth Roadies! He also torched Ophelia, a pang of regret that it was... too easy? Was that all it took to handle a Filth-born these days?     That said, the Wizard really wasn't expecking the next bit, with Ophelia crawling up his body like a cat with 6 inch claws. He's skewered in place, with a hot chick writhing her way up his body. He feels one claw slide through the meat of his thigh, and the other slink right between his ribs as he gets face to face with the Queen of the Drowning Doom.     He spits up blood, trapped as he is by the muck and the mire and the fact that she's got him by the guts. "Hnnnrrrffd. I can.... damn try." But it's awful hard to cast magic when you're all being sliced up and shit.     Which is why Harry cheats. He angles a hand into his duster, wraps it around the stock of his Sawed-Off, points it at Ophelia's gut... and pulls the trigger. Only it's not buckshot he's got in there. The first round is a Dragon's Fire Round, blasting the Queen with a gout of white hot flame. The second one is full of Rock Salt, specially blessed by Father Forthill. That old rogue.     The Dragon's Breath lashes out at Harry too, the heat far too close to his body. He screams in further agony, but he wants to hurt this woman. He wants to hurt her bad enough he's going to hurt himself. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' "Wow ..." Yuna shakes her head in wonderment. "Is that really the best you can do? I mean, you *heard* me singing earlier, and - y'know, I don't hear *her* singing any more. But my face is just fine, you don't know a thing about my mother, and you don't --" There are a couple of quick shots from the Matrix Divider, aimed not at the TreeBack Troll's upper body, but at whatever passes for its knees. "-- have a leg to stand on," Yuna finishes. Honestly, she doesn't like being mean to her opponents, but sometimes there's no real choice. And the Troll looks and acts like a monster. Gods help Yuna if she finds out there was (or is) more to it than that.) But she's more concerned about her allies. "INGA!!" Yuna yells at the top of her lungs. "WE'RE HERE TO RESCUE YOU!!" Maybe she doesn't need to call out like that at this point - it might be after the fact, it might be Inga's too distracted to hear her, whatever. But after the shout, Yuna starts singing again ... o/~    I hear a voice calling to me,     telling me not to forget that I'm not alone     All the people who can't be replaced are here,     In a place where their hearts can shine     The number of words that I know     Isn't enough to say very well     But with my own face, I want to tell you     Thank you for always being by me ... stay in my heart Inga is not alone. Yuna's friends are not alone. And Yuna herself is not alone. They're all here for each other's sakes. She didn't sing the whole song, just the final (double-length) chorus - the most important part, in her opinion - and as Yuna finishes singing, her beam cannons power up again. Her target is no longer the TreeBack Troll - even if she DIDN'T kneecap it, it's the lesser threat for now. Instead, when the beam cannons go off, the twin blasts of raw radiant force are directed at ... The Doom Bell. Or rather, the framework which suspends that Bell above Ophelia's stage. Take out the Bell, take out the conduit of Ophelia's death-metal powers, neutralize her stage. Right? 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren's GHOST MISADVENTURES are accompanied by the dueling soundtrack of emotion-destroying metal and Yuna's singing. They don't go well together, but canceling eachother out into background noise is a win, right?     Staren grins as the ghosts fall away, tattered, and aren't replenished by an unending horde. That worked out better than expected!     Oh.     A new monster that SPAWNS GHOSTS.     Well that's just wrong. THAT has got to stop RIGHT NOW. He keeps the blades ready to deal with the ghosts as they come to him, but his armor's missile racks pop up and Staren starts bombarding the organist with burning plasma minimissiles, one at a time to see how many it takes.     Also he glances down to see how the rest of the fight is going. Ophelia engulfed in fire, that's good. Yuna's fighting a giant tree-troll. Okay. Another freaky ratbaby-man-thing. Also there are metal blimps dropping something that messes with the air -- he switches over to internal supply, and will work on a way to help allies deal with that as soon as these ghosts are freaking done with gosh!     He'd engage in witty banter but what's the point? Having seen how they're created now... Staren's not sure the ghosts are even people. Some sort of automaton projections? Man, this world is crazy, who even knows? 

:'''{{#var:778|Kyle Katarn (778)}} has posed:'''     "I don't know what you did, but that's not why I'm here." Kyle says grimly, moving past while the Zapper's still knitting himself together. He knows these guys won't stop just yet, and he has no time to keep dealing with these guys.     Not when Inga and Harry need help getting out of here. "Harry, hold on!" he calls to the wizard, seeing him kind of sort of self immolate a bit. This is bad news, yes. He uses the Force to clear a path through the lesser zombies, sending them sprawling as he rushes towards Inga and Harry, cutting down moshpit zombies in his path. Using agility and speed from both years of experience, and also the Force carrying his steps, Kyle's extremely nimble in these situations, and he notices Inga falling.     "I GOT YOU!" He calls, before he actually raises out a hand. Through the Force, he focuses upon Inga, trying to slow her fall until she is straight up suspended in mid-air.     Then, he gently lowers her down to the ground, provided nobody tries to shank him in the back. That would be bad. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga's lips move in time with Wuyin. It is much creepier when they are together. The Bees have Something to Say and Inga seems helpless to their words. The Rabbi forgets the bridge, leaves the paper in the machine. It goes in search of a master and finds children that need hugging. It hugs them until their smiles split and their teeth strike the cobbles like tiny raindrops. An angry mob attacks the clay man. He does not fight back. The Rabbi comes and screams at him. Removes the circuit breaker - the life giving bridge. The clay man falls on the Rabbi and shatters." Inga has been aware, vaguely, of what is happening around her. She knows Harry is close, she feels the heat from his flames. She knows if he is close, he will be hurt. That's just his luck, she doesn't need to see the future to know it. The Buzzing...buzzes off. There's a myriad of Things going on in Inga's head, and the Bees figure, well, Wuyin can finish this particular story. Inga recieves a different signal, a wave of wyrd pulling her forward. Yuna's song reaches her, bolstering her strength as it drowns out Ophelia's METAL. No, she is not alone. Not now. The rope from which she hung breaks and Inga is free. She falls, and is caught by the force Kyle wields. Her eyes focus on Harry, and Ophelia, and /what she is doing to him/. Inga screams, blood rising around her as she digs her nails into her skin to draw more. A spear of hardened blood launches to Ophelia, positioning as not to hit Harry in the process. He has enough problems. There might not be much of Ophelia left. For now. Inga knows with cold certainty that this isn't the end of Ophelia. "Ophelia, Ophelia...I know you. You are doing this because...in your way, you /care/. But I know what becomes of you. I have SEEN it. Oh, I think Eddie would be happy to know what will become of you. I told you, that girl was still inside of you. You will forget. You will...heal. You will come close to YOURSELF again. The girl you drowned will return. I promise you this," Inga says, her eyes focused on the battered Ophelia, so sure. So knowing. Inga limps to Harry, kneeling beside him, using whatever blood she has left on him, channeling her anima through it to help heal the worst of his wounds. It will take far more than what she can manage at the moment, but she can at least stop him from bleeding to death! "Damn it, Harry..." she says, tears in her eyes. Inga looks toward the others. "My things, there's below the stage!" she calls. She needs her walking stick, her talismans...her agartha portal. How are they getting out of here? 

:'''{{#var:515|Wuyin Tsai (515)}} has posed:''' Music pulses. Wuyin flows. Bodies fall. The gloom begins to recede. The voices do not. The music brings it, carried on the words meant to bring harmony to the thrumming, thumping, screaming discord. The Buzzing's signal is a sort of harmony all its own, a painful one to the uninitiated and a comforting if disconcerting one to all the rest. Wuyin is swept along in it, speaking words of a story meant for... who, exactly? He starts towards Inga, and the waters. His eyes are wide, his mouth working as he figures out the words that Inga no longer speaks with him. "The people bury the Rabbi and put the remains of the clay man in an attic. They are a persecuted people," Wuyin says, "and they do not want attention. The clay man dreams the slow dreams of the terminally shattered." His eyes find Ophelia, looking through her. Dresden, some part of him thinks. Someone should get him back, too. "Time passes and another man comes." He flicks his sword. Blood and worse glides off the blade, a hiss and a sizzle-pop leaving it perfectly clean. "His bearing is regal and he wears the swastika on his sleeve. He examines the remains and then calls in a troop of men in uniforms." The dead. The stage. Inga's things. He stops, points his hand downward. "They collect the clay man and carry his pieces to a truck." There's a blast of fire and ice and fire again. Wuyin hammers at the mob of undead and at the stage itself with a steady 'WHUMP, WHUMP, WHUMP'. It's a rhythm that compliments the music with destructive harmony. "In a place of death and shit and broken souls, the clay man is reassembled. All the Fuhrers horses and all of his men, put the clay man back together again~." He strikes, opening a gap, eyes trailing towards Inga. "A starving old prisoner watches through the warehouse window, unnoticed behind the grime and the dust." Something strays close. It dies. Wuyin never saw it. He feels pieces of it scatter across his back and side. "He remembers a winter evening in Prague, and the broken smiles of dead playmates." Wuyin moves in. He'll take Inga's things, tuck them away with all the rest of his. Agartha is terribly convenient for storage sometimes. He keeps speaking on his way back, retreating from the spot, starting to reconvene. His voice becomes conversational and thoughtful. "In the end, a tank is needed to bring down the clay man. Among the shattered remains, the remaining troops find a slip of paper with the name of god scribbled in hasty hebrew. A starving old free man watches from the edges of the camp." He smiles, looking across his allies with weird joy on his face. It's as alien as the intonation. His voice becomes sweet. "Dear sweetling, this tale /has/ no moral. Like the Guardians of Gaia." Wuyin's legs shake and suddenly give out. He drops to his knees, free hand clutching at his side and coming away bloodied, expression stricken with pain. He produces a weird brass and iron sphere the size of a baseball, Anima-light playing over the surface. Time to go. 

:'''{{#var:495|Riva Banari (495)}} has posed:''' The horrible beast is murdered once again, and Riva falls back, looking over the corrupted, undying thing. "I'm going to be sick..." She mutters. And then she sees it's beginning to recoagulate, the horrible squeaking starting up again. "Nope. /NOW/ I'm going to be sick." She groans, clutching her stomach as it churns from the disgusting sight. But the Gloom is disrupted by Harry's work. Yuna keeps singing. The forces of DEATH METAL are put on the back foot. And the Bees provide their enigmatic direction as always. Yes, they resonate through her just like they do with Wuyin and Inga, but clashing with a horrible rat-thing kind of keeps you from listening properly. The Templar straightens, raising the hammer to smash the corpse uselessly once more until she comes to a realization. She's Death Metal. How can you /really/ put the bullet into this? A mad idea crosses Riva's mind, and she smiles, dashing forward through the leveled horde, vaulting over horrors as she makes directly for the Stage. With a plant of her mace, she vaults onto it, looking over the tableau. She could turn and strike at Ophelia... But she isn't looking to her. No, she's looking at a fallen electric guitar. She turns, grabbing the guitar and plugging it into the system. The speakers screech as Riva jams on a couple things. She doesn't know the details, but maybe, just maybe... She closes her eyes, and tries to remember the first song that comes to mind. Something she can use here. Something to combat this evil. Maybe it's some strange gift that allows someone who's never jammed in their life. Maybe it's beginner's luck. Maybe it's the Bees. Maybe it's something about this world of Metal. But something answers. The speakers blare, and with a great fanfare, Riva's voice crashes out over the battlefield, echoing in a great chorus. 

:'''{{#var:495|Riva Banari (495)}} has posed:''' FROM A WORLD OF REIGN, THEY COME!                       Lights explode across the sky, warring with the Darkness and Gloom as brilliant flames strike back against the hellish balefire of the Death Metal. Thunder and lightning crashes as the two forces meet in battle in the heart of Ophelia's domain, a sudden strike in the middle of a pitched battle. In a world of Mammon, we have found it all! Fighting for pride and for gold!    But the key to the reign, to the ultimate control: Wisdom of the old!         We have been elect to drain the wine of Gnosis to hide it and pray,                       Got to save our children from the beast!                                                We are on the way!                             Music crashes down over the battlefield, fighting against Metal with Metal as Riva jams with the deadly, crackling guitar. With a cry, she turns and points towards Inga, pointing dramatically as burning, scorching swords of flame shear through the air, shrieking towards the Zepplins, striking down across the masses of undead with fire and light.                            Remaining in darkness                                                  The land of salvation will drown.                                               And when we'll have vanished                                             Slavery will take your freedom down!                                       Seven eyes to be blind forever in time:                                                SIGN OF THE CROSS!                                               Hell arise! Castigation under the sign,                                                SIGN OF THE CROSS!                                                     Make us drown in altar wine!                         There is a detonation as the guitar sparks and catches aflame with white fire, Riva still playing it until with a scream she brings the guitar down, hammering it into the Stage with a mighty blow. Upon impact, a pillar of flame blasts upwards in a cross-shaped blast, shearing through the Stage, then again, and again as Riva lays about with the guitar like it was a deadly weapon, working to blast the Stage apart. As she turns to the distance, raising the guitar to the distance, there is a rumbling in the distance, pearly gates erupting from the ground and swinging open. "EVERYONE OUT!" She cries, her burning holy-symbol mace in one hand and the flaming guitar in the other. BGM: Sign of the Cross - Avantasia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYiLCDwdR8k 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Black lips spread wide; A crocodile smile. "You'll try, and try, and try. You'll dip your hands in blood, little man. And the-" SNKT-BOOM. TOTAL ASSHOLE MOVE, RUINING A PERFECTLY GOOD MONOLOGUE. Ophelia is thrown foward into Harry's shoulder as a spear of blood suddenly skewers her from shoulder to hip - just in time for Harry to blow her back with a immolating shotgun shell! The broken creature falls to the ground, a massive hole missing in her midsection. She gurgles, black ichor rolling down her chin, and looks up at Harry. Even as her claws are gripping around the empty, leaking hole that was once her insides. ".. g'ck." She states, hand shaking as she wipes the back of her hands on it. "Sorry... sweetie.. my heart's alread-.. already broken." She lays her head back, letting it drift to watch Inga rise. Giggling madly, despite the lack of sound. "I'll break y.. your wyrd, Inga.." She singsongs. "I'll blind your gods.. and you'll f-..float with me.. free in the misery.." She looks down at the hole in her gut again, groaning, a sound of pain that slowly breaks into laughter. "Ah! It hurts so much! You've got- .. you've got such a -wonderful- touch, Harry~" She singsongs. Weaker but stronger. Stronger but weaker. It was the nature of the Black Tears; The more she suffered, the stronger she got. The stronger she got, the more vulnerable she became. The more vulnerable she became, the more she suffered. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Troll's knuckles bounce on the ground a few times as it tries to think of -something-. Some sort of come back. At last his face brightens, and then he gets a nasty smile on his face. "OH YEAH? WELL-" Kneecapped! The Troll falls over, hollering as it collapses onto its face. Rolling about, the tree preventing it from getting immediatly up. And then Yuna does the unthinkable - she ruins the FUCKING STAGE. The DOOM BELL tolls again and suddenly falls, crashing into the stage. The whole thing sparks and implodes, pieces collapsing downwards. The mosh pit staggering to a halt, the undead confused and briefly stunned by the fall of their stage - the crux of the show, Ophelia's nexus. Yuna's aim was perfect, and if there ever was a time to GET THE FUCK OUT OF DODGE, it was now. It was a BRUTAL VICTORY, but this was the Sea of Black Tears. And the dead things would not be out for long. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Staren's barrage of the Organist has the desired effect; IT explodes. A lot more than it should, really, fire blossoming upwards like a mushroom of heat and smoke. Screaming, wailing ghosts go curling in all directions, the spectres broken not only by the siren call of the Phantom but also by the sudden stagger of DEATH METAL. Only the background left, the ever-present knit of Hateful Grief; So long as the Sea is open, the DEATH METAL will be there. Just undirected, wild as skeleton trees growing unchecked in a grove. He's up high, and he can imemediatly see the problem. The stage is down; The Drowning Doom disorganized. But there are a LOT more dead than there are living Elites, and it's only a matter of time before they reorganize. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Kyle catches Inga. Kyle helps Harry. Kyle's a good guy! Which makes it all the same with Ophelia watching. Her eyes loosely tracking through the sweet, sweet agony in her gut, before she spies the man doing all the pushing. THAT one. Oh, she remembers that one. Her black lips - with the ichor leaking from them - spread to a nasty, vicious smile again. And she kisses the tips of her fingers before blowing on them; Smoke drifts through the air, black and living and sentient; And suddenly solidifies, trying to do nothing so much as STAB KYLE IN HIS FUCKING BACK. And LODGE there, like a shard of ebon glass. A parting kiss from the Queen of Tears. Hearts all around~ 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' And then RIVA. RIVA LEARNS IT. RIVA OWNS IT. For METAL - BEAUTIFUL FUCKING METAL - is a power unmatched in this world. The sky shatters beneath it, the ground trembles before it. The very nature of reality burns beneath the fire of METAL. It is powerful, and it is awe inspiring, and it is FUCKING BRUTAL - and it will have no MASTER. And Riva? For this moment, for this instant, SHE MADE AN ALLY OF THE METAL. The Death Metal staggers out, with no one to direct it. And GLORIOUS OPERATIC METAL takes its place. Zeppelins explode and fall like flaming comets. Firey crosses rip through the storm touched sky. The undead burn and twist like worms beneath the -all burning light PRAISE THE SUN MOTHERFUCKERS- because the clouds -PARTED-. Just this once. Just for this moment, as the Gates awaken. A way out An escape. It won't last - the DEATH METAL is already hammering back up. This is it's HOME. FUCK YOU. But for now, for a moment? RIVA IS A FUCKING METAL HERO. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' Troll is down but not entirely out; stage is kaplooey but not enough - apparently - to keep Riva from taking what's left of the stage and stealing the entire show. If Yuna had the faintest idea about 'throwing the horns,' she might actually do it. Getting out while there's an out to be gotten seems like a higher priority. Yuna's even got the strength to handle a passenger or two, or she can cover the escape for others. Either way, time to head home, mission accomplished. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Inga and Wuyin retell the story of the golem. Staren knows that myth! ...Wait, not the part about nazis. That's new. And the story has no point! Probably for the best, one less thing to think about while fighting.     Harry's hurt. What can he do about that? Thinking about it distracts him from the odd familiarity of the wailing as the organist and his spectres burn. Staren's heard a sound like that before somewhere...     Riva provides a new soundtrack, and a way out: The pearly gates to the afterlife. "Your choice of symbolism is concerning!" he shouts as he flies down, firing his beam cannons at Ophelia to try and get her off of Kyle. "Go go go! Everybody out!"     As soon as Kyle is free, Staren follows his own advice, flying towards the gates. If he ends up in the afterlife he's so haunting you, Riva! 

:'''{{#var:778|Kyle Katarn (778)}} has posed:'''     Kyle is at least successful at catching Inga, and he secures her promptly. "C'mon, we gotta go!" he says, helping her up and getting her towards the gates Riva set up. That's stanging impressively what she did, by the way. He's just about ready to head through the gate himself when he catches a parting gift.     He yelps in pain before he shoves the guy off. Staren helps of course, and Kyle tries to ignore the pain long enough to pass through yo thr other side.     "Thanks Staren. Son of a bitch this hurts. Inga, I'm gonna need this treated if you're able." He seems awfully calm for getting shivved, even if it hurts about as much as one would think. 
}}

4640/An (Un)friendly Visit

2016-10-07T13:24:12Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/10/06 |Location=Beach City <BC> |Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia continues to poison Steven Universe. |Cast of Characters=975, 1023 |pretty=yes }} {{..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/10/06
|Location=Beach City <BC>
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia continues to poison Steven Universe.
|Cast of Characters=975, 1023
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Evening once more; For what other time of day could it possibly be? A warm evening, filled with the soft lull of breaching waves and the calm, ridiculous cackling of gulls sweeping over Beach City. It's the perfect time for a walk on the beach with friends new and old, a time to wind down the day at Mr. Smiley's arcade, a time to eat with loved ones and settle in. And, apparently, a time to stumble across cadavers. She floats, just a few inches seperating her nose from the surface of the water. Eyes closed, skin pale, her black shirt and jeans tugged with the current's slow sway in and out. A girl - a young adult, maybe mid-twenties. Eyes rolled back, brown hair swaying about her like seaweed. While the shirt does nothing to help her stand out, her tanless skin practically glows beneath the waters as the moon light strikes it -juuust- right. SOMEONE CALL CSI STAT. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Steven Universe is again unattended, looking out over the water from the window of his house. His day has been nice, he made some new friends and had some musical fun. But he can't help but wonder what mission the Gems might be on that they're gone so often, and if maybe wherever they are they might need his help. With so much going on these days since the melding with the multiverse, it seems like maybe they're drifting apart a little... Is that a body?!     Steven runs out of the house in bare feet, dashing across the sand with phone in hand to dial for help! Fighting he can handle, but dead people are best handled by the police. Still, if whoever it is is alive, maybe he can heal them! He dials 911 and hits send along the way, then drops his phone on the sand as he dives into the waves! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The body remains where it floats, mostly stable with some rocking side to side as the currents move; In that nice swell point, half way between floating away and being beached for good. As Steven approaches, a wave curls it upwards, juuust within reach - before the eyes roll down and snap open. Pale lips spread into a wicked, crazed smile. And the 'body' floats -upwards-. As it breaches the surface, where water rolls away is left pale blue skin rather than simply pale. Black ichor replacing clean water, twisting and curling about as the Queen of Tears rises; Her head lifting first, her arms drapped behind her. Claws dangling, dripping the pitch ichor of her Sorrow into the ocean behind. At last she stands, chin dipped down and eyes focusing. Bright white teeth behind black lips. "Hello, Steven"~ 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     "Aaaah!" Steven's scream is... not masculine at all, as a pink bubble pops up around him, capturing a fair amount of seawater, and possibly some of the black stuff. He tries to backpedal swim but, being that he's in a bubble, this is not especially effective.     "Ophelia! What are you doing here?! You attacked that place where everything was dead, and brought those monsters up from the ground! Or was that that pony... Ummm. Why were you all drowned-looking? That black stuff is bad..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' A cruel little smirk works its way across the broken creature's black lips, before she strides forward; Walking on water, as it were. While Steven thrashes in his protective bubble, black claws will scrape along its surface - before Ophelia begins 'pushing' the bubble in front of her, towards the sandy shores. Safe and sound~ Her ichor drawing itself from the water's edge, mixing and unmixing at will; There was nothing natural about the Black Tears, after all. "Well, you did say I could visit when I wanted too, little boy, and 'jam'.." Begins the soft, singsong voice. Bright teeth flash once more. "Not happy to see me anymore?" A broken, heartless little giggle slips from the creature, before she sighs softly. Settling down upon the sand, drawing her legs up sideways. The cruel smile slipping away, to something equally disturbing; Placcid. ".. Oh, Steven. I -am- drowned. Didn't you know that? But it's okay; It only hurts forever~" 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     "I... Thank you for bringing me to the shore." The bubble pops, almost reluctantly. "If you're hurt, I have healing powers... I don't understand you, and honestly you're as scary as Jasper, more even. But as long as you're here to talk and not blow the place up or make scary monsters attack, I'm a lot happier talking and playing music than fighting. Things are already bad enough without fighting."     He can't help but sigh, as much fun as he had meeting Sakura and The Song, he can't help but worry for Rose Quartz, wondering if the Gems are out looking for her without him. Of course, it is dark, and he does have to sleep, but... 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "I'm hurt in ways that can't be healed, Steven." Begins the Queen of Tears, that ichor sliding down her cheeks once again; A constant presence, whether she's cackling or weeping. Black lips part again, a sardonic smirk. "Just like you'll be, someday. Those you care for will hurt you badly; Either by betrayal - or leaving you. Death doesn't care about love. But... I get the feeling you already know that, don't you?" Eyes half lid, before she crosses her arm over her chest. The other reaching up to support her chin, something in her expression half way between a cat watching a bird cage and Hannibal at dinner. "Things can always get worse, you know. Why don't you tell me all about it? I mean, I am a black hearted bitch - according to your friends~ - but I've ears too. And afterwards, well.. Shooting Star?" So hard. SO FRICKING HARD to resist the urge to just strangle the little boy and leave his family weeping and broken. But how much worse will it be if he's strangling himself...? 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     "I'm not stupid, you know. I know I'm not my mom, I can never be Rose Quartz, but I'm smart enough to know that you're trouble. But you don't have to be! Yeah, it can always get worse, but it can always get better, too! I can tell, just like Jasper, you act mean because you're hurt, and maybe it's not something I can heal, but I can at least help, maybe. The world... the multiverse has enough trouble already. I just want to help people not hurt so much."     How did that happen? How did he go from "I know you're trouble" to spilling his worries and concerns? Steven just has no filter on sharing it seems. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Oh, little boy - how often does it ever get better?" Giggles Ophelia, claws spreading across her own face. "Oh, I don't know a whole lot about you - but the Black Tears call to Sorrow. To grief. They call to stopper bleeding hearts.." A claw flicks, pointing towards the youngest Gem. "And there is a darkness in you. Opening up like a forgotten grave under a flower bed. So, go on, and tell me; All that you've fought for. All that you've done. How much better has it gotten for your efforts? Has it gotten easier?" Black lips in a calm, brittle little smile. Because what ever get easier? "Maybe trying to be the pink bitch -.. ah, Rose Quartz .. is the problem. I mean, how can you know the secrets that lay in another person's chest? It's poison, Steven. Other people are filled with it, overflowing, and the closer you get to them - the sicker you'll become. Especially when you find what really hides within. Only a broken heart is empty of that; I might be trouble, sweetie, but at least I'm honest." A broken giggle, before she lifts her hands. A whisper of sound, a long stroke of guitar's high scream on the wind, and the Six Stringed Sorrow bubbles into existance. Blue wake candles flickering lowly. "Well. Enough of that. Did you bring yours, or do you need to borrow - mine?" White teeth. Bright, sharp, a crocodile's smile. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     "I wish I could summon instruments like I can my shield. I mean, it kinda works as a gong if you hit it hard enough, but that's not really... Well, I have my ukelele!"     He draws the diminutive stringed instrument from his Cheeseburger Backpack, but... he really liked playing Shooting Star, even though he knows it's probably not a good idea, being as it's Ophelia's and she ADMITS she's trouble and knows it. But... it's a guitar, and when he has it it turns bright and good! Maybe... Maybe it's a step toward turning HER good too! Yeah, that makes sense and is totally not an excuse to do what he knows he shouldn't do!     "Ummm, I really liked playing Shooting Star though." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Of course you do." Whispers the broken thing, practically purring as she holds out the Six Stringed Sorrow. It -itches- to be taken in the hand. Proferred like the midas touch, the monkey's paw, the genie's bottle. Something magical and wonderful just waiting for a chance to betray the wielder; But who knows, maybe Steven -is- pure enough to tame the Sorrow? Guess only time will tell~ When he takes it, the body begins shuddering and shifting to match him; A star-bodied guitar, with a long streaming neck, huge machine heads like sparks riding off the edge of a comet. The Shooting Star. But then something - happens. The bright body taints, darkens slightly. The points become a bit more jagged, the streaming neck a bit more bent. Just a touch -edgy-. Responding to Steven's current mood, his worries, his concerns; The Black Star. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     He can feel it immediately, the difference. But it's not the instrument, it's him and he knows it. He accepts the changes because long experience has taught him that it's okay to hurt, that in fact the only way out is almost always through, though he hasn't really put the thought into words. He does flinch as a sharp bit of the body scratches his arm and resolves to be careful with it while playing. And play he does, because with the instrument comes the POWER. The Metal. He knows why his mom loves it so much, because it expresses things other music can't. Things he needs to express now.     As his fingers touch the strings, the distortion flares, a harder sound than last time. A sharper sound. A sound that fits his mood right now perfectly. The night seems a little darker now, pinpoints of light streaking through the sky in a special effects meteor shower as he starts to sing. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' "Where are you? Mom I don't know what to do Everybody's looking for you And I'm alone and scared too And I Don't think I'm enough I don't think I'm tough I can't do it alone. And I I miss you so much I only just got to touch But then I lost you Mom I don't know what to do Everybody's looking for you And I'm alone and scared without you Where are you?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The world above grows dimmer with Steven's performance; Dark clouds boil across the sky as he harshes on the Black Star - something akin to Ophelia's own affect, save instead of a storm there are the worrisome, lonesome twists of strained clouds dimming the bright moon above. Stars streak and zip above in time to each tickle of the fret, every hammered distortion; A meteor shower, arcing downwards like abandoned angels, where before they'd sailed triumphantly on to the horizon in glorious comet trail. And still the effect grows as he sings, the very sand beneath him rippling outwards- and then there's Ophelia's claws; Cold and hard as glass, before they melt away to leave her bare, cold fingers. Loosely placed on his shoulders, her black lips whispering - voice a frozen mist. "You'll always end up alone, Steven. But that's okay; You can always join us lonely things." A soft giggle - broken and mad as the creature herself - before she reaches over. "Here - try this one.." Blue hands wrap around Steven's own. Placing fingers. Strumming something - darker. "Feels good, right? Just letting it out. That's the ****'ing power of Metal, something your ukelele will never do for you." Themesong change: CEMETARY GATES - Panthera. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OYw7FPB7CE 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     And course through him the METAL does, exactly as Ophelia says, helping him let it out, let it go. Tears stream down his cheeks as he plays, and he does feel better. Stronger, tougher, more capable of facing the things that hurt him, even if he has to do it alone, even if it does hurt... But by the time the song comes to a close, the clouds and Darkness have eased up, torn away by the scouring of countless celestial sparks spraying light onto the beach. Still crying, Steven smiles a little, feeling so much better with the catharsis.     "I was right. You were right. You are trouble, because you are actually helping me, and I don't know if I'm helping you learn to let the pain that hurts you so much go a little, or if you're somehow tricking me to be evil. Maybe both. But... I think maybe I am strong enough to help you. And to help Mom. Thank you, Ophelia." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Oh, Steven, don't you know? Pain never leaves; It's always there. You just get better at dealing with it. Well.. at least until you can't carry any more grief." A soft, wistful sigh. "Then you fall, little boy. You fall and sink beneath the waves of your own misery." "But hey, look on the bright side; You'll die someday. Or maybe not - that'll be worse, perhaps. When you keep on living and everyone else dies." And then, because she's just that much of a beach, blue fingers will come up to cup Steven's cheek. And for a moment, Ophelia looks perfectly motherly, wiping away a tear as she smiles. Warm and happy. "I'm going to hurt you, Steven. You know that. It's what I am. Just.. not today." She did say she was brutally ****'ing honest~ ".. Let's go over it again, hm?" 
}}

4619/Walk On Water

2016-09-30T20:23:00Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/30 |Location=The Brutal Lands |Synopsis=Ophelia tries to tempt Inga into the water. |Cast of Characters=975, 525 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Po..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/30
|Location=The Brutal Lands
|Synopsis=Ophelia tries to tempt Inga into the water.
|Cast of Characters=975, 525
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Tower of Pleasure. Once the home of LionWhyte, the ambassador of humanity's slavery to the demonic Tainted Coil. Here the lap of luxury was supported by beautiful women, soft beds, broken backs and an acknowledgement of demonic superiority. It was a pillary of Vegas style excess, with massive wading pools, smooth granite paneling and a giant phallic white tower from which the former Master of Slaves looked on his peons below. Spreading the taint of security for the price of freedom. Now it lay shattered, tumbled like a child's toy, with monstrous iron maidens laid in craters where they had impacted. Of the twisted, insane creations called 'Bleeding Deaths' that had torn down the place, there was no more sign - likely torn each other to pieces, or simply died as their life force was given in the service of more destruction. It is here that Ophelia waits - Standing beside the Hearse. A rolling temple to Death Metal, the hearse was one part corpse carrier and one part hot rod, massive golden blower growling like a chained beast as it shudders and feeds flickering flames from golden exhaust pipes. No fuel known to mortal beyond the hallowed continents of the Brutal Land would sate it; It was a creature forged from the remnants of ORMOGEDDON by the will of the Dead Titans; His mighty death roar, his ferocious speed, his metal flesh, his incinerating flames. It was alive as anything else in the Brutal Lands, and it owed allegiance only to Sorrow. Ophelia's face is drawn, black lips in a thin line, one arm crossed over her trim tummy to grip the other. Hands curled into fists. This place had bad memories; But what better way to hurt herself than to come here and meet an enemy? 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Perhaps it was madness to agree to meet Ophelia alone. Even with all her precautions, she knew it was not exactly wise. That said, sometimes it is necessary to take risks in order to accomplish something important. If Ophelia wanted to speak with her, there had to be a reason for it. Inga would keep her hand close to her Agartha conduit in the event that she needed to make a hasty escape. She'd walked from the portal to this gods forsaken wasteland, leaning on her staff as she approaches the hearse where Ophelia leans. A strange, ruined place, and one that was perhaps better off that way, if what she has glimpsed in the wyrd is any indication. Swathed in a grey-blue cloak, Inga remains hooded, regarding Ophelia with a keen, cautious gaze. "Ophelia," she greets, stopping close enough to speak but far enough away that she felt she'd have enough time to react with a lightning bolt if Ophelia sprung. "This is a ....very peculiar place to want to meet," she observes. Inga's not sure she wants to read too much into /that/. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears turns her head slightly. A single claw running along the bottom of her eye, and flicked aside; Where the ichor strikes the ground, it -sizzles-. Potent. She keeps her back to the prophetess, looking back towards the ruins as she shifts her hips. "Mm hmm.. well, I did offer you a seat by me at my shores... It's not my fault you wanted somewhere else." She gestures with a hand, claws upwards. "Behold, the death of Humanity's future; Lars was killed here, because he was so ****'ing stupid as to hope for better. Lita lost her mind here. Ed-" She stops herself, hands curling into a shaking fist once more. ".. That ****'ing moron betrayed me here. The final betrayal. The last one before I just ****'ing stopped caring anymore." At last she turns, bright white teeth smiling behind black lips. Arms wrapping once more about herself; Brittle as glass, yes, but as sharp as well. "It's a place that hurts. Almost as much as the Sea of Black Tears. So perfect, right?" She giggles, a broken sound, half a sob briefly choking in her throat before she dips her head. Pressing lips to a fist, eyes closed for a moment. When they open, the wicked smile is back once more. "My offer, sweetie; Have you given it thought?" "Freedom from your ****'ing gods. And this time, no ****'ing pedestrians to interrupt us." 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga looks toward the bit of ichor that Ophelia flicks aside, watching it sizzle. She remembers first seeing Ophelia, worrying about the Filth...it is not so different, is it? Less...virulent. That was the true worry. They've met on many occasions now. Inga knew just how fragile Opehlia was. It was so easy to break her composure and send her into a rage. But that isn't Inga's mission today. She knew Ophelia, perhaps better than anyone now. A strange realization. Stranger still, when Ophelia again makes her offer. Inga realizes that in her strange, broken way...Ophelia /cares/ about her. It takes Inga some moments to respond. "Why don't you tell me...tell me what happened. Tell me more about your world," she asks, not giving her answer just yet. She'd seen much in her vision, but it would be better for Ophelia to tell it. "What do you mean, the death of humanity's future?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' That was always the danger with the Death Metal Queen; Her weakness was her power. The more she suffered, the deeper her Sorrow ran, the stronger she became. The smile fades to a thin line once more, bright white eyes searching Inga's own for a moment. Before that quiet, cold little smirk rises once more. A claw lifting, shaken twice to the left and right. "Uh uh uh. Tit for tat, Inga - I tell you something, you tell me something about -your- world. Someone told me I talk too much..." Chin rises, as Drowned Ophelia glides around the back end of the Hearse. Claws drag lightly along the metal, the creation shuddering - an animal in fear. Or pleased at the touch. It was honestly hard to tell. "And maybe they're right. By force or by choice, every little light in the fucking sky is going out." Her ankles do not appear to move; Just gliding forward, until she moves past Inga. Gesturing out to the Brutal Lands; Majestic, in their own way, but harsh and unforgiving. "Lars." She begins, curling claws as if to grasp the sinking sun. ".. was the King of the Humans. Or so they would have you believe." She glances aside, a conspiracal smirk. "In truth, his rebel band was weak, pathetic, and dying. Humanity was conquered; A species created in mockery to the Titans. He was proud, and honest. Daring. Noble. All the worse things in the world; He walked up to the Emperor of the Tainted Coil and boldly declared his intentions to rise humanity from the ashes. An honorable challenge." Her claws fall. "He was gutted for it like a fucking fish on a stick and tossed aside. All because he believed in our -.. in -their- 'choosen one'. If only they knew~.. but more on that later." Another soft giggle, before she offers her claw outwards. "Now you." 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga meets her gaze, unshaken, only returing the intensity. She nods at Ophelia's offer of exchange of information. It is only fair. Inga places both hands on the top of her staff, fingers intertwined as she listens, the pictures forming in her mind. "Their chosen one? And who would that be?" she asks. She didn't miss Ophelia's slip-up. She simply chose not to draw any attention to it. "My world...it is long in the past for most worlds--as far as most people percieve time, anyway. In that time, in that place... I was a well respected Seer, taught to honor the gods. Odin, Thor, Freyr...all the aesir and vanir, the spirits of the lands and thet ancestors. Freyja was my patron... a Seer like myself. A goddess of magic. I traveled and spoke my prophecies to the leaders of the lands...and on holy days I helped to make sacrifices to the gods. Every nine years at Yule at the temple of Uppsala we would sacrifice nine of each animal, hanging the bodies from the great tree, blessing the blood and annointing ourselves with the god's blessings," she says, her voice falling into a storytellers rhythm. "I am a chosen one. Saved by the gods. My parents left me to die...Freyja rescued me and gave me purpose. I am not a slave you see....I simply owe a debt." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "A debt you can't pay is slavery, by any name." Cackles the broken creature, throwing a hand dismissively. Turning the full force of her scrutiny once more towards Inga, curling a claw upon her upper lip. "We're more alike than you think, sweetums. My parents left me too.. albeit, because they were fucking Tear Drinkers and went to sink beneath the shores of grief for the last time. You know; Back when my blood was red." She then pauses, eyes flicking aside towards the broken palace. White teeth gnawing at the edge of her dark lips before she straightens. "-Eddie-." She states, practically forcing the name between her lips. Eyes close once more, as she releases a slow breath - frost curling down her lip and chin. "They're fucking 'choosen one'. If they knew, what -I- knew? What -I- saw when he picked up that fucking axe, wearing -THAT- sigil? ... They'd have torn him to pieces. Oh, they hated me.." Claws opened on her face, a smirk. "They hated the very sight of me. I reminded them of what they'd lost, you see, when they took power from the Sea. But at least they didn't try to kill me. Well, not until after Lars. HE was the last one with vision. But Eddie? They would have scattered his ragged pieces all over Bladehenge had they learned. Luckly, they're all so fucking stupid - they never listened to the whispers. Never read the old legends. Never wandered beyond the fucking safety of Bladehenge, like I did, trying to find something.. ANYTHING.. to break the Tainted Coil. I kept his fucking secret, I kept him safe. He didn't even know it himself. And he was going to save us all; The power of Metal shattered the armies of LionWhyte. Smashed through all that we had come to believe was impossible. He was pulling us all together, from the KillMaster to the girls I rescued. And then..." Her voice fades away, as she stares at the broken Tower of Pleasure. Shuddering, the miasma of Black Tears rising about her, tendrils of smoke curling about her form. ".. The fucker betrayed me." A curl of fingers. "Do you want this curse? And don't fucking lie to me about it being a blessing.." She begins, smiling coldly. "I don't need your power to tell you exactly how every fucking thing ends, if you look far enough out. And that's got to sting~" 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga listens. She doesnt understand all of it, but the big picture is there. Her lips curve into a gentle frown, brow slightly furrowed. There is no doubt...Ophelia's story is a sad one. Perhaps that is why Inga keeps trying to save her. She keeps trying to break through, hoping--because that's what she needs. Hope. After Eddie's betrayal...it broke her. Inga could place herself in her shoes, easily. "A man wronged me once. Took me, tried to make me his pet prophetess. I slit his throat in his sleep after drugging his wine, sacrificed him to Freyja," she answers. "I understand revenge Ophelia. I don't even begrudge you...but there is a difference between getting vengeance on the man that wronged you and burning down his whole hall with his family inside," she continues. Inga sighs, shaking her head at Ophelia's comment about her 'curse'. "Ophelia...there is no end. That is what you do not realize. There's no one, final end. There are small ends, small beginnings, knots in the wyrd...you think, in the end, everyone dies, everyone is alone, everyone betrayed...but that is not the case." Inga sighs, tracing some o the runes carved into her staff with her finger. "I...appreciate your offer in the spirit that it is given...for I think, your way, you actually want to help me. But I cannot. It is not my fate," she answers. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The smile, brittle as it was, fades away from the Queen of Tears. She sways slowly, and - for a moment - the very air itself is tense with a vague threat of violence. Something said had twisted the metaphorical knife. But that same deep breath again - Ophelia showing a surprising amount of restraint for someone so driven by gothy emo dives - cold frost brushing briefly along pale blue skin. Before she answers, at last. "And why not burn down his house with his family inside? They'll come for revenge as well. It's like blood in fresh milk; It just spreads and spreads." Her fingers spread open as well, before clenching. "Best to kick the fucking cup over and at least enjoy the noise and the sight." And then she's heading back for the Hearse, cracking the door open. The vehicle seeming somehow to come to life; Crackling a bit faster, eager almost. She pauses, however, and looks over her shoulder. The cold smile gone, eyes searching. ".. fate can be fucked, you know. There is an end, a real, final halt - we just have to fucking choose it. Just like I choose mine." No smile, this time, her face remaining serious as ever. "Come to the Sea of Black Tears; Look deep in that well, and tell me you can't see the end of it all. The shattering of your fucking future. No more fates, no more destinies, nothing but the hammer of Death Metal to soothe the loss. Misery can be a strength, you know; Even I don't know what power your broken heart can unleash. Taste of my sorrow, and -see-." 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga shakes her head. "Because they might not. You cannot base justice on what you think someone WILL do--not even I can do that. People have their own choices to make. Fate has many paths...and even yours is not at an end," Inga answers as Ophelia turns to make her exit. A sigh, Inga's shoulders slumping slightly. "What if I look, Ophelia? What if I look and I don't break. What will that mean for you?" Inga asks, then turns and starts to make her way back to the portal. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Some don't. Demons, mostly - those who don't know mortal pain." States the creature, with surprising amount of sobriety, before the broken laughter bubbles up from somewhere within once more. "But oh! I can -feel- your suffering, Inga. And you're going to feel -mine- as well." With that omenous phrase, the Queen of Tears slips into the seat, slamming it closed. The Hearse ROARS to life - howling as it draws air in through the blower, flames crackling and leaping from in-line exhaust pipes like a firey spine. Wheels spin hard, kicking up dirt and earth as it tears the hell out of there. Snarling and twisting through what debris had rolled away from the collapsing tower.. And above it, storm clouds bubble in the sky, as if to mark it's passing. 
}}

4608/Season of Pain 2 - War Pigs

2016-09-29T14:23:02Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/27 |Location=The Commonwealth <TC> |Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Final Battle. Drowning Doom arrives on the Commonwealth to finish what..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/27
|Location=The Commonwealth <TC>
|Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Final Battle. Drowning Doom arrives on the Commonwealth to finish what the bombs didn't; The death of all life. Via DEATH CLAWS.
|Cast of Characters=981, 673, 7, 975, 1023, 903, 982
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' With the situation in the West end of Cambridge mostly stabilized, for the time being, it leave some time for performing the original mission. Namely, scouting the environs and pushing back against the various horrors of the Commonwealth, wherever they may be found. The Institute has emerged as public enemy number one, but despite having the obvious lead of the former C.I.T. campus, no one has actually seen anyone enter or leave, according to travelers that frequent the area. It leaves quite the mystery! For this reason, Paladin Danse has set off, with whatever Elite assistance he can muster, into the central part of Boston's sister across the river. This is a mixing pot of sorts between various threats, and it's hard to predict what they may even encounter. He even would have admitted as such.     What he did not expect to find, though, was a functioning street corner cafe. A Mr. Handy model robot maneuvers deftly between the various tables and seated patrons, completely skeletonized of course, and still dressed in the rags of the clothes they were wearing when they were flash-killed by a nuclear strike. The Mr. Handy, whether willfully or by programming, seems to still regard them as current customers, though the triad of optical sensors do regard the power-armored footsteps of the approaching Paladin with curiosity. "Oh, if it isn't one of our service boys," he proclaims cheerfully in the pre-installed, default British butler personality? "I hope the homefront is treating you well, sir! Please, have a seat. I will inform security to not disturb you and your party."     With that, the reason the cafe likely remained undisturbed makes itself known, as from out of the side alley, a far bulkier and tread-wheeled Sentrybot rolls out and makes its presence known. After briefly scanning with the single red eye fixed behind an armored cage, it appears satisfied, and continues on its patrol. "In the last days," Danse remarks, "Every business tightened security, mostly against rioters and looters. Don't believe any idyllic pre-war photographs you might see. It was a facade." Meanwhile, over a still functional radio, 'Maybe' by the Ink Spots plays from the nearby Diamond City. The Mr. Handy has gone on to set a coffee pot onto a hot plate, just inside the half-collapsed shop's interior. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' "Another day in boston. Another heaping helping of macabre and disturbing." Sayeth a blue-haired girl in white robes, affecting an exasperated tone full of sarcasm a bit better than usual. She's been practicing, it seems. But her eyes are full of distaste, frustration, and sadness... having come to understand that the Mr. Handy series is fully self-aware'ish, but just hardcoded enough that they fall into patterns and go CRAZY when unable to fulfill their duty, would have her weeping if she were capable of it!     Instead she can only approach and find a seat. She seems to have no qualms seating herself next to a skeleton though. That doesn't bother her, even as her Muse privately points out that to her that it would bother most humans.     "Good day! You've done well staying intact without official maintenance for... far too many decades. How has business been?" She can't possibly be thinking of establishing trade with this one too, could she? 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll? Kotone had an idea of where she came formnow and it was nightmare fuel, yet that was over for her right? Maaka had run Flesh Doll down and hopefully gone for good. She'd been healed or repaired depending from how you looked at it and was here in Boston helping out where she could in what was a Boston tht never seemed to get out of the 1950s cultrally well until the bombs fell. Thankfully that is a long ago but things like this were a bit creepy still she fell in along side Rory. "Greetings, it's a bit of a shock to see a cafe of any sort intact...." Also she hears maybe playing and it takes her a moment to place the song, dang that was old even on her world. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Commonwealth; A place of refuge. Not safety, perhaps, and certainly not sanity, but refuge none the less. Where the dirt is -not quite- poisonous enough to kill off life. Where one can eek out a living, a form of survival, and - yes - even a sense of civilization. It is a testament to the will of a species that -will not fucking die-, no matter how many times they've been bombarded, poisoned, burnt, ripped, torn, shot, stabbed or asphyxiated. It was said that cockroaches were the ultimate survivors - whoever said that had never seen humanity pushed to the brink. Because despite being royally fucked over in every possible way imaginable - from super predators to mutations - humanity wasn't only surviving, they were -coming back-, working their way back up the food chain. Someone needs to remind these fuckers when to stay buried. And so it comes; The western sky had been slowly darkening as a storm rolls in, crackling flashes of lightning that leap forward, clean white instead of the impure green of rad-storms. At the Cafe, a few drops of rain patter across broken streets and down ancient skeletons, torn and faded umbrellas doing little to protect the patrons from the sprinkling rain. But there's more to it as the storm seems to pick up speed, curling forward like blackened fingers clawing greedily at the blue sky. For as the lightning crackles forward, one can see the fat cigar shape of a - zeppelin? But oddly shaped - the fins sharpened like stabbing daggers, a massive and cruel point to the nose. It sweeps low across the storm tattered sky, engines roaring, black talbards hanging from either side like some massive livery; A quarter mile to the south and moving slowly, but steadily, towards the center of Cambridge proper. Lightning crackles again, in time to - cymbals? Massive speakers thudding as the bass kicks in, another flash of lightning illuminating the sides of the massive air-ship; The livery being a falling raven, with an updside down Anhk. Carrying a massive metal box beneath, chains straining against the weight. Distant air-raid sirens to go off as the METAL grows, the atmosphere twisted by the distant echoes of a power alien to this world. The thrumming engines of the Zeppelin pull in full reverse, almost directly over Coldham's Common, the entire structure slowing to a halt as search lights snap out. Sweeping the ground directly beneath the the Zeppelin, then further out and up, lights flashing along the storm clouds above as well. And still the METAL plays on, a sure sign.. That the DROWNING DOOM HAS ARRIVED. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' And as the storm of lightning, thunder, rain and METAL invades, lo does another sound echo across the almost-barren wasteland... A ROAR, ferocious and powerful enough to open a hole in space, a portal through which dashes a magnificently regal pink Lion, on his back a young boy in shorts and red t-shirt emblazoned with a star. The pair make for a spot of color in the sepia-soaked land, bright and visible as a day-glow target.     "Wow, this place is... kind of a dump. Did you really bring me to where Ophelia is? Because I didn't really mean it Lion, she's scary..." Scary yes, but there's something about her... He wants to help her, as he wants to help everybody, even if she is scary. Also, there was something intoxicating about playing Shooting Star, maybe the special effects or the power? But he does kinda want to play it again...     Lion peers right and left, noting the local fauna and even some flora here and there, and the glowing water areas. Seeing the storm pouring in over a section of city, he maps a route toward it avoiding all of the glowing waters and local fauna as best he can along the way. This is a cat with a purpose, though what that might be is anyone's guess... 

:'''{{#var:903|Ebon Ribbon (903)}} has posed:'''      As the air raid sirens sound from the zepplin, there is a lightning strike atop the massive metal crate, and just after the strike several ribbons of neon purple energy lash out, somehow glowing with blackness. When the smoke clears, there is...a pony? A dark-looking unicorn who's usual short-styled mane and curled tail have been let out especially for this. Instead, her mane is as long as she is tall, and her tail seems even longer, both flowing out behind her like dark clouds with streaks of neon pink, adding a sinister grace to her appearance. And as the first few measures of the harder hit base play, she produces a microphone in one forehoof and steps to the edge of the crate before her beautiful voice fills the air like a taunting spectre      o/` Generals gather in their masseeeeeeees!     Just like Witches at black massee-eeeeees!      Evil minds that plot destructiooooooon!      Sorcerors of Death's constructioooooon.      In the fields the bodies burniiiiiing!      As the war machine keeps turniiiiiing.      Death and Hatred to Mankii-iiiind!      Poisoning their brainwashed mii-iiiiinds.      Oh lord yeah~ o/`      The hauntingly beautiful voice gives way to harder guitar and drum hits, and no doubt plenty more lighting, allowing the message to sink in to any who might be within earshot of the zepplin. 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' "Of course, miss," the Mr. Handy boasts in response to Rory, "General Atomics constructs the finest and longest-lasting robots on the market!" With his shameless plug routine having been fulfilled, the Mr. Handy brings the steaming hot pot of coffee back out front, and pours some into a (surprisingly clean, if a little chipped and weathered) tea cup, for both Kotone and Rory. "Oh, the old shop HAS seen better days. The maintenance crew is just over two-hundred and ten years overdue! But on my honor, I must do the best I can to keep things running. To see the smiles on the faces of our patrons keeps me going!" Well, they can't help but smile, since they're skeletons and all. 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' "Of course, miss," the Mr. Handy boasts in response to Rory, "General Atomics constructs the finest and longest-lasting robots on the market!" With his shameless plug routine having been fulfilled, the Mr. Handy brings the steaming hot pot of coffee back out front, and pours some into a (surprisingly clean, if a little chipped and weathered) tea cup, for both Kotone and Rory. "Oh, the old shop HAS seen better days. The maintenance crew is just over two-hundred and ten years overdue! But on my honor, I must do the best I can to keep things running. To see the smiles on the faces of our patrons keeps me going!" Well, they can't help but smile, since they're skeletons and all.     As for Danse, sitting on one of the chairs in power armor is probably a bad idea, and he's officially on duty, so while he'll allow those two to engage the Mr. Handy in idle convesation, he himself busies on the perimeter, taking measurements that are being radioed with telemetry right back to the Cambridge Police Headquarters. "Haylen, are you getting a clear reading?" A female voice rises over a moment of static, "Loud and clear! I've not noticed any of those short broadband bursts yet, though. Part of the trouble of having to rely on a transient phenomenon and all." "Affirmative. Let me know if you notice any, and we'll get started on the triangulation." Short radio bursts and pulses, huh...Rory might remember something on that.     Unfortunately, it's going to be hard to get a good reading above the noise of that gathering storm to the West. Lightning and thunder isn't anything new to the Commonwealth, but there's something noticably different about this one. The Glowing Sea that Rory would have scouted long before? It infrequently isn't content to just sit in that sterile dust bowl to the Southwest, irradiating only the few life forms that can actually exist there, and instead blows across the Commonwealth, itself, covering everything in a sickly green as the thunder rolls take on a distinctive, and oddly *metallic* reverb. Something's different this time, though. It's not green, for one thing. "Haylen. Something's come up. Are you seeing this?" "Yeah, we see it. Is that--" The radio seems to cut out shortly after, overwhelmed by interference.     The shape coming out of the storm causes Paladin Danse to pause for a moment. There's only one known current operator of a vehicle like that in the Eastern US, as of this time and date. "The Prydwen?" Yet, as its featues resolve, it's clearly a case of mistaken identity, "No... That looks like something some Raiders would put together. How on Earth..." They can scarcely weld together something resembling body armor. As the dire dirigible makes its way closer, the Mr. Handy seems rather upset with the turn of events, though mostly at the horrible racket. "Good heavens," it complains, peeved, turning one optical sensor skyward as it hovers, even while its two remaining thruster arms busy serving customers. "What is that cacophonous EYESORE doing disturbing the peace of our cafe? The NERVE! Securiteh!" The Sentrybot rolls back closer to the shop front, a deep and menacing, and completely emotionless, voice confirming, "Commencing security operations. Civilians, stand clear."     It's likely that the sound will attract other attention from nearby, in short order. For one thing, anyone that can sense seismic activity suddenly notices the very ground shaking, as though it's an extremely minor earthquake. It seems to be out of phase with the music, which is...odd. For another, the epicenter isn't in only one place. It seems to be moving. Faultlines don't really do that on these timescales.     While Danse is checking his fire, for the moment, the Sentrybot has no such restraint, and immediately opens fire with one of the miniguns it has instead of hands, aimed up at the Zeppelin. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Staying quiet and still is kind of a pain for the Rabbit of the TSAB, standing near one of the chains, leaning against it as she listens to the METAL and the amazing singing coming from a pony of all things... Well, there was the times she tried stealing Nightsong, but that's another story. "Hmm, might have to join the band one day." she smirks, peering over the edge, "Kratzenfaust, as soon as this shit drops, let's add to that lightning storm, shall we?" she smiled.     <Understood. Stand by, ready. Shocker Shield.> comes the german voice from the device, a white shimmer overtakes the Mage and soon, she's in her barrier jacket and surrounded in a lightning ball. She slowly walks towards one edge of the crate... and upon hearing anything about dropping the box, she's running towards the other edge and she LEAPS off! "Shocker Breaker!" comes a loud, echoed voice in a thundercrack from above, a large ball of lightning magic forms in between the twin claw gauntlets, throwing it down towards the ground.     It was always her favorite opening. The large ball of electric magic hurdles towards the ground, and upon contact with it, it explodes into a large dome of crackling electricity, arcing off to find flesh or anything it can shock to hell. As for Mitsu and her plummeting? She lets the Shocker Shield bounce her off the ground a few times before dispelling it.     "HI!" 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' Rory's about to politely decline the coffee, for her Synth body cannot process it, when... the distant storm gives her pause. Several of her thought threads focus that direction, senses moving out through a Saucer hovering high in the air and some tiny cameras mounted atop a nearby crumbling building. She sees the storm, the dirigible... but that symbol sends a chill through her neurals.     "Upside-down Ankh. They must mean to convey Death..." A raucous cacaphony of death metal. The upside-down Ankh... and black. Oh so much black. The pattern's instantly recognized. "Ophelia and her hordes..."     What she DOESN'T have a clue about is Steven on his pink lion! THAT has no place here in this desolate, ruined hellhole. "Who...?!"     Cameras in the sky are watching you, kid!     Rory stands up, offering an apologetic look to the Cafe Handy!     "A horde of monsters straight out of mythology and nightmares will be here soon. One Security unit won't stand a chance! I'm recommending you take shelter until they leave, if your directives allow it." Rory advises the Handy quickly.     Knowing these models though, the answer is probably 'they don't.'     She does, however, move QUICKLY away from the Sentrybot, lest she provoke its twitchy and impatient programming!     Hopefully she won't have to repair the thing later...     Then... the ground's shaking?! She looks around... "Molerats? Radscorpions?!" 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa will take the cup of coffee, caffeine is one of the few pleasures of the flesh that she's not lost in her conversion and darn it she's going to get her fuel as it were. She will give it a check to make sure theres no real rad content in the drink, well that was her intent to drink it when someone else is going on. She listens to the radio comm chatter for a moment and then comes a storm and she narrows her eyes. "That doesn't look good, wait is that? Oh no...why are they here?" Kotone looks honestly /scared/. She was unaware of Steven's arrival and while she'd know what Ebon Ribbon is but not whom she is. The fact the Tear Drinkers are here has clearly /scared/ the hell out of Kotone. Things are just getting worse as more and more pile in. Kotone didn't come unarmed but she didn't bring heavy. "We'll deal with this." She notes to the robots while she pulls her pistol, why didn't she pack more heat here when she came here? 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Tracer fire rips upwards from a SentryBot, screaming shells of high velocity shells tumbling at super sonic vectors towards the MASSIVE DEADELIN - whose massive speakers hammer harder, the very air shuddering beneath their sonic onslaught. Tracer file suddenly wobbles, twisting aside and off as they hit the NOISE; The aspect of ORMOGEDDON that SHATTERED the skies with his THUNDEROUS DEATH CRY. Some of it strikes true - sparks riddling along the chains even as Ebon sings her pony-sized heart out in tribute to the METAL. THE BEAUTIFUL FUCKING METAL. And then the chains squeak, metal tortourosly twisted - and release. The crate -PLUMMETS-, those atop without their own way having rapel cables attached. For dramatic entries of course. There is a pause in the thunderous METAL as the crate plummets, a whistling sound of air being forced aside. It eclipses the LIGHTNING ORB Mitsu released as it SLAMS into the ground. Electricity arcing along and up it, mad fingers touching the bloated sky even as said sky stabs downwards. A war between EARTH and STORM. And then explosions ripple up the sides, before the sides fall away with THUDS, flattening anything adjacent to the metal crate. And within? A STAGE! YES! A MOTHERFUCKING STAGE, DOOM BELL RINGING. Spotlights from the DEADELIN swing downwards, highlighting the figure at the center, who looks up towards the swirling sky. And, hopefully, Ebon dropping down to take her rightful place. "Hello BOSTON! ARE YOUR READY TO DIE?! Arms swing up. Knees bend in. "MUSTA! KRAKESH!" The first hammer hit of guitar. The first WHAM of hammer. The cymbals crash, and Drowned Ophelia - SUMMONS THE DETH CLAWS. 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' "Abandon my post?" The Mr. Handy actually seems to consider to Rory and Kotone, for a moment, before whatever deep-rooted programming General Atomics installed takes over, "I wouldn't think of it! Not while the safety of our cafe and customers is endangered." The Mr. Handy accordingly moves straight out onto the street, where it calculates that Mitsu Mirage will land, buzzsaw and clasper arms at the ready! Unfortunately, its conditioning and the data available do not cover people that can blast spherical shells of lightning at the ground, and while its defense is noble and well-intentioned, it clearly gets off to the wrong foot...hover jet. "Come down and face me--! Eeyargh," it has only a moment to yelp, before the electrical arcs overwhelm its circuitry. The units made for civilian service aren't particularly well shielded, alas. The Mr. Handy ragdolls across the pavement, before coming to a stop against a long-broken parking meter. At least their chassis is otherwise durable.     The Sentrybot, on the other hand, has no such trouble. It does pause in its firing for only a moment, as failsafes and extra parity checks are enabled in its software. For what it's worth, at least it isn't attacking Rory as he had worried about, since she and Kotone have been added to the customers registry. The Sentrybot, not merely a ranged attacker, lets its fusion cores vent for a moment, before suddenly barreling forward, intending to use its mass, easily equal to the average pickup truck, to try and intercept the enormous crate that had been jarred loose. Instead, it is forced backward by the blast wave of the combined landings, its triple set of treads keeping it steady as it regains its 'footing'.     The sounds, whether supernaturally alluring or 'oh god please make it stop', conjure up one of the worst threats that this particular post-apocalyptic United States has to offer. Those seismic vibrations finally reveal themselves, moving ever closer to the surface, before forgotten sewer access plates, drainage culvert grates, and even large pieces of pavement are ripped and thrown clear, with a crowd of roars. Emerging from the depths where they nominally make their home, bipedal, reptilian-looking creatures that are fairly close to humanoid howl their protests, and immediately begin charging almost anything within reach. Their jagged teeth and horns look dangerous enough, but they seem most intent on using those enormous talons on their powerfully built hands, if their posture is any indication! 

:'''{{#var:903|Ebon Ribbon (903)}} has posed:'''      Ebon Ribbon of course knew the crate was going to be dropped eventually, and when it is finally cut loose her purple energy ribbons lash out, linking her to the zepplin. What follows is a pony bungee jumping from the bottom of the blimp, her mane and tail flowing out behind her once again in dramatic fashion, the pink streaks looking more like lightning with the mane and tail fluttering in the heavy winds of a free-fall dive. The pony holds out a forehoof and folds the other legs as if she is flying downward leaving streamers of energy in her wake.      When she reaches the limit of her streamers' reach, Ebon Ribbon dismisses them in a shower of dark purple sparkles which follow her down to the ground before she deploys new streamers that strike toward the ground like lightning and form a lattice to slow her fall. The streamers swirl and writhe as she lowers down with slow, deliberate grace to take up a spot beside the figure already on stage. Those streamers of energy continue to lash and swirl about, adding to the dramatic scene about them. She gives her mane a haughty toss with one forehoof, then smirks.      "RIIIIIIIISE!"      With a thrust of that forehoof into the air, Ebon adds her voice to the roars of the Deathclaws and the scream of her stage partner. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     "Well... that's different..." Steven seems a little less scared by sudden monstrosities and crimes against nature, with his extensive experience fighting corrupted gem fragments. These actually kinda remind him of a few of them. The Singing pony who seems to be on Ophelia's side gives him a little more pause, as does the massive ball lightning strike ahead of him that just... keeps... crackling.     He raises his arm and a rose-themed shield appears. Lion roars with a powerful cry, not opening a portal but simply trying to blow away any lightning or projectiles in the way, and skids to a stop near the diner, notably not too close to the Sentrybot.     "Hey, Kotone, is she causing you trouble again? And what the heck are those monster things?" He flings his shield at one in a move that would do Captain America proud if Steven even knew who Cap was. Lion deposits him on the ground, roars again opening another hole in space, and bravely vanishes into it. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' The Tear Drinkers are here, they have Death Claws? She'd heard only a little about them from Danse yet? Seeing the, they were big as a light IFV and looked like they could bend steel bars. How does one even pull off making a creature like these things? Or how does something mutate into /that/? She had no idea but it's very clear they are made of pain, the Mr. Handy is down, maybe Rory and her can do something for the chap when this is over. For now they need to focus on keeping from being spare parts themselves. The Sentry bot is still in the fight however and she's thankful for the firepower it's brining, at the very least? It's something for the attackers to worry about. As she's getting her pistol ready to fgo she sees Steven show up and she blinks for a moment. 5R "Steven?! What are you doing here? Yes she's causing trouble I think those things are called Death Claws I'd have to ask a local about them more..." Kotone acts on reflex now and moves to postion herself in a way she can help guard Steven, she has her pistol ready and is going to have to hink hard about how to handle these things. "Rory! Can you get a tac net up?" She turns her attention to Steven. "Just keep with me, this isn't a word to go wandering alone for anyone. "Ophelia... we are not ready to die, I think it's time your band ... broke up." She makes ready with her weapon now and she's going to have to act smart to fight the Tear Drinkers. 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' First a colorful horse, now a colorful lion. Today has to be a lie, right? He's going to wake up any moment now to Haylen shaking him out of a weird dream, brought on by drinking too much of the local water. For now, he has to make do with the reality he's been given, though, and if it's going to be absurd, he might as well take advantage to dream train against the weirdest the Multiverse has to offer. "The name's Danse," he remarks to the youth, Steven. "And they're called Deathclaws. I'm certain you can imagine why." After a moment of sizing up the avenues they're using to approach, as well as the apparent band leaders, he places his power armor's helmet on, just in time for the eddies of current still lingering from Mitsu's entrance to arc off his armor's plating, "I'll take the singing horse. Be careful of the Deathclaws. They can open a suit of power armor like a can opener, if they get the chance."     With this, he begins marching steadily foward, astride the Sentrybot at first. Adding to the hail of bullets from its minigun, as well as grenade launcher, that are being trained on any deathclaws that approach the perimeter of the cafe, Danse soon adds his own well-aimed laser bursts. When the sea of claws and teeth and leathery flesh parts for a moment, he instead begins squeezing off those shots at Ebon Ribbon, instead! No matter what this thing is, even if it looks like a Giddyup Buttercup brough to life, the singing and 'music' seems to be stirring up the Deathclaws, and while they remain the battlefield is far more dangerous and chaotic. "What the hell are you," Danse demands? "The Commonwealth sees enough trouble without outsiders bringing their own."     Unless Mitsu proves to be a personal annoyance, he's not going there. He had his fill of her lightning nonsense and trickery at the fake Nazi hideout. ...it's a long story. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' Welp, there goes the Mr. Handy! Downed from a bolt from the blue, quite literally! Rory frowns, but offers little more visual sign for how she feels about the matter. Doubtless, upset, but she tends to go flatfaced when upset.     Due to EXTREME concentration and emotional discipline.     The AGI turns her head about, spotting Mitsu and others... and yanks out an odd-looking... weapon from her robes? It's two sections, split by a central grip and trigger, the front bridging section between the two components sporting a cerulean focusing crystal?     Kotone knows what this is. It's a Matter Manipulator. Not a weapon, per se, but if you've only got room to carry ONE THING... then it's perhaps the best thing to BE carrying.     Because Rory reacts swiftly to the threat presented by Deathclaws. Her TacNet goes live, courtesy of two Saucers hovering in the skies and three building-mounted cameras in the area.     "Fighting the Deathclaws without cover is suicide. They're too mobile and strong. Ideally, lure them indoors and restrict their movements!" Which has her immediately checking which of the nearby buildings is the most suitable for such a fight.     The Matter Manipulator's crystal flashes and engulfs Rory! With a few surges of ancient technology in action her white robes are replaced with sleek metamaterial battle armor. All on its own, her hair bunches up and binds itself into a ponytail. A handful of Transhuman weapons subsequently appear from the Matter Manipulator, mounting to hardpoints on the armor. Including what looks like a cluster micro-missile launcher strapped to Rory's back. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Death Claw that Steven's shield snapped towards was CLUNKED, its head jerked aside just as it was getting ready to rip into the back of the Sentry Bot. Which quickly backhands the creature aside before the miniguns rip it apart. Target overload; Unable to properly place The Drowning Doom in their priority, it sets about clearing the target zone of all non-purchasing customers via the application of brutal ****'ing force. Bullets rip and whine overhead as it twists and turns, the street lit up in strobe lights, its red optic light swinging from side to side. Dead Death Claws thumping down around it, but it's not getting off scout free - slung here and there, crushed into cars and with deep gouges starting to wear on its heavy armor. The avenue it cleared towards the Stage is still open - for the moment. Hulking monstrosities that leap and charge far faster than their size should allow. Frankly, it's not ****'ing fair. It's only the fact that most of them appear to have been driven into a frenzied run down other alley ways, chasing the scents of life and meat that has kept this -one area- from being overwhelmed. They were animals - most of them. Vicious and tricky and above all HUNGRY, but driven into something like a shark with blood scent by the POUNDING OF DEATH METAL. DEATH METAL FOR DEATH CLAWS. So for the moment - for this brief point of time - there is a chance. A CHANCE to stop the madness, a CHANCE to halt this chaos before it grows to engulf all of CIT. OR perhaps even further, for who knows what the Drowning Doom are capable of where it not for the heroes who put themselves in harm's way to stop it? And still Drowned Ophelia plays on, leaning back, her chin raised upwards as she -cackles-. Electricity flickering off the glowing strings and up her hair, stage lights swinging back and forth, pot fires rippling backwards and forewards in time to the rattling guitar riffs and high screams. It's a DROWNING DOOM CONCERT. And the difference between that and a barbarian raid is only in the merch. 

:'''{{#var:903|Ebon Ribbon (903)}} has posed:'''      Ebon Ribbon wasn't expecting to be attacked directly at this distance, and a sharp cry escapes her as one of those laser bolts sears a path across her chest. She leaps to the side quickly as her streamers begin swirling around her like an energy vortex, deflecting and absorbing any follow-up fire. She gives her mane another toss as she stands there, letting the vortex of purple and black protect her. "I am Ebon Ribbon, and we just thought the survivors on this world might enjoy a nice heavy metal concert." she says with a smirk.      Then, she dashes right toward Danse, those ribbons that were swirling around her coming together to lash out as one swirling beam of negative energy. Except, if it hits, those ribbons try to wrap around Danse's armor, and he'd notice an immediate and steady drop in his armor's power levels. Seems whatever this creature is, she can pull the energy right out of her targets. Danse's helmet sensors might even see the flow of energy travelling down those ribbons and into the pony. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Hmm, there's a couple going after the Deathclaws and one going after the pony. Wait, aren't these people familiar to her? OH YES, THEY FUCKING BLEW UP HER TANK! MItsu's eyes scowl a bit and her claws are encircled in lightning. She's not going to care what is caught in this as she hops up into the air and just wildly slashes at the air, throwing blades of lightning at everything within reach! "This is for blowing up that hovertank I wanted! I COULD HAVE USED THAT YOU JERKS!"     Once she lands, she moves to rush down the nearest person, kicking off the ground to make a flying, lightning imbued, claw punch at someone, "And this is for ambushing me earlier you stealthy jackass!" The crack of thunder is in the air and tries to make her strike, "Shocker Taser!" 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' "Whatever this is, it isn't a concert," comes Danse's protest. REAL music is what was playing over the radio just earlier. That radio, by the way, which was momentarily interrupted from the electrical currents that had been coursing through the air, but is back to weakly playing Diamond City Radio through its tinny and weathered loudspeaker, one that is easily drowned out by the other sounds in the environment. Regardless, the strange way those tendrils move, this creature is controlling them, then? Moreover, she isn't merely able to sing, but hold a conversation -- he'll assume she, from the tone of voice, but can he really even be certain, this far out of his element. His helmet visor momentarily turns back to look at the cafe and other nearby buildings, just to check the state of things, and man, is that sentrybot on a roll...but it won't last too many more wallops quite like that last one.     The thing about power armor is that it's crazy protective, especially against conventional projectiles and melee weapons. It is not particularly mobile, at least in a horizontal sense. Nonetheless, Danse was *trying* to shift out of the way, and there was that slim chance he might have succeeded, except the girl he was trying to avoid, Mitsu, lands right next to him and sends that current coursing right through the power armor. Most of it passes harmlessly over the outer hull of it, due to the electrical skin effect, and straight to ground. But enough still gets through to the servos, plus the suddenly awkward positioning, that it's the perfect opening for a ribbon wrapping. "Ergh!" Try as he might to yank free of it, Ebon Ribbon still gets a nice dose of fusion core through diffusion from the armor's internal conduits. It's probably a good thing that he installed a fresh core this every morning, at Haylen's advice.     Not having much else to do, he swings the entrapped arm's elbow to try and place some space between himself and Mitsu, while firing at Ebon Ribbon and her...well, ribbon, with his laser. If that doesn't do the job of separating it, he'll take off in a sprint straight at the latter. While side to side movement isn't great, an actual charge in power armor certainly is. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' use the Cafe's PA for speakers, huh?! Rory hops over the counter and into the cafe, as it's the best cover available for now! She does indeed start hunting for anything that looks like an interface for the establishment's spekaers, if it has any, but then another idea strikes her.     This establishment has a bloody SENTRYBOT!     So she ducks under the counter and cues up some hacking. RobCo protocol adapters load into her wireless systems and she immediately begins assaulting the SentryBot's wifi with some spoofed data, attempts to establish credentials.     She has some new orders to add to its directives list! A radio frequency to tune into... and to broadcast it while it's fighting as loud as it possibly can...     But she peeks over the counter too, spotting Ebon Ribbon and Mitsu Mirage again... she can only hope Kotone's smart enough to not fight fairly this time around! 

:'''{{#var:903|Ebon Ribbon (903)}} has posed:'''      Freight trains are hard to stop, but easy to avoid. And so with a graceful sidestep Ebon does just that. The targeted ribbon does indeed snap from the laser and dissolve into sparkles, And perhaps others do as well. But, she can always make more!      Unfortunately, Ebon didn't learn from the last time she encountered something that could throw a truck. When the ribbons suddenly go taut as Danse barrels past, Ebon is yanked along and ends up skiiing on her hooves behind Danse. The energy drain remains constant on his armor, and it might become clear that this pony doesn't hold much in the way of life-threatening attacks. Killing isn't usually necessary where she comes from.      Rather than shriek or otherwise seem worried by being dragged along, Ebon Ribbon actually grins and steadily tries to further wrap Danse and his armor. The ribbons wouldn't be hard to break...one at a time, but even power armor might have trouble if they are able to layer up on him. "It most certainly was music! My lovely voice made it so, even if you do not care for the genre!"      The dark unicorn gets a few more searing injuries from the powerful laser weapon, but so far she seems to have plenty of energy left. "And besides that, are you not worried about the citizens of the town and the monstrous creatures that are currently trying to turn everyone into cold cuts?" 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     And what a concert it is already! Explosions, lightning, laser lights and monsters galore! Reassured that the scary looking things are in fact monsters, Steven takes a defensive position next to Kotone. All he really has is his shield and bubbles, who knows where Lion went, but Kotone probably has weapons and Steven has some experience being shieldmaiden, so to speak.     "If you can shoot stuff, I'll keep us out of trouble. At least the music's pretty-" a ROAR cuts him off as a portal agains opens and expels Lion, with a tall teenager with olive skin and a BIG PINK SWORD! Connie looks startled at the chaos, but quickly finds Steven and takes a stance next to him and Kotone.     "Are these corrupted gems? What's going on?"Connie questions Steven, fending off a claw swipe with the BIG PINK SWORD.     "The monster things are monsters, and I think the singing pony is attacking with Ophelia, the lady with the guitar with the candles on it! Let's fuse, this place is too dangerous with all these death claw things running around!" He offers a hand to Connie who nods, accepts it, twirls and dips him, and they two become one in a shining light... Stevonnie takes a stance next to Kotone, sword and shield in hand, looking extra heroic! 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' There is insanity, there is carnage there is Metal and she wants it all to stop. She's trying to make it to the stage Drowned Ophelia is the root of this madness if she can be driven off they can stop. She's not intending to fight fairly at all. It would be stupid and Ophelia cares not about fair. She's moving in now and trying to be sneaky as she can in the chaos, she keeps to cover when she can as she moves forward. "That I can do!" She notes to Steven she looks to Connie and doesn't know her but if Lion brought her? She's a friend of Stevens. "No they are something else! They are called the Tear drink...." Kotone trails off as Connie and Steven /fuse/. She can take a moment to be surprised and also confused for a moment Stevoonie is unexpected and stunning. "Okay that's new, let's move! Err You got a name while you two are like that?" She asks then then pauses. "Kotone's mine." With that she's going to press forward with Stevonnie and will be using her pistol to try and handle things at ranged, she's going for crippling shots on things like going for Death Claw eyes. "If you have any ideas about how to close faster I'm open to it." Kotone was fast but she didn't know how fast this fusion being was. She didn't want to risk being the slower or the faster one they needed to keep together. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Stevonnie hops onto the Lion, looking regal as all get out, and offers a hand that moments ago held a shield to Kotone. "We're Stevonnie! Need a ride?" 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa says "That will work...Stevonnie." She notes as she hops on with Stevonnie's help. It doesn't take long for the cyborg to get aboard the Lion Express! 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' His laser blasts find purchase, especially since it seems as the ribbons restrict his movements, they also remain physically tethered to Ebon Ribbon, herself. The thing is they don't seem to do much harm, and gauging from the flow of energy, according to the power armor's diagnostics, they're flowing straight over there. "Power drain, huh..." Rory, via internal comms, had suggested it was a magical effect. Whatever it is, with how rapidly it's deleting the fusion core, he has to resolve this quickly, or it'll be down to the suit's better shielded, but far less potent, auxiliary assist systems, and he'll be left about as mobile as a tree trunk.     Holstering the laser cannon for a moment as he slides to a stop, kicking up dust as he does so. The ribbons threaten even the fusion cells the laser rifle uses, so perhaps some chemical potential is what's best, especially with the never-ending torrent of drain ribbons that simply replace the previous ones. Instead, he withdraws a conventional fragmentation grenade, and tosses it in the pony's direction. This was mostly to buy him a little bit of time and space, though, as with his good and free arm, he retrieves a long knife -- or, no. That's a bit too thick to be a cutting blade, directly.     With the rev of a miniaturized internal combustion motor, the sawtoothed chain around the perimeter of the business end of the Ripper comes to live. Danse once again moves in, after the grenade goes off one way or another. The swipe of an errant Deathclaw's talons rakes across his power armor's left pauldron, leaving it rattling precariously from the attachment points, but if anything that only serves as a reminder that they need to finish this quickly. As the T-60 races forward, brandishing the chainsaw knife, something peculiar happens alongside. With everything else that's going on, something he'd normally find ridiculous, but for now makes as much sense as anything:     The loudspeaker on the power armor's helmet's volume cranks up, and begins to blast out Diamond City Radio. The song that's currently on is none other than The Wanderer. This had better work, Rory, because this is silly. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' Unfortunately for Rory White's efforts, the SentryBot - a far simpler AI than the Handies it seems, a combat AI optimized for fighting and not much in there for personal interaction - proves to actually be too hardcoded to accept the directive as given. Not through the authorization channel that Rory used. However...     She gains access to its firmware upload feature!     ... And that will simply have to do. "Well. RobCo systems are at least simple..." She's had plenty of time by now to study most of the robotics around the region and pick apart their firmwares in her spare time. So one thought-thread hits INSANE FOCUS and rapidly patches together one of her in-development AIs with the RobCo hardware drivers.     The SentryBot comes to a screeching halt in the middle of the street, powering down for a brief few seconds. Then it boots up again with a series of buzzes and blips, its limbs all jerking wildly. The process repeats twice, with a few herky-jerky motions... then finally...     Finally, the ominous crimson red returns to its 'face' and the SentryBot rises to its full height, weapons priming!     And from its speakers...     "Ooooooooh well I'm the type of guy who will never settle down,"     RATATATATATATATAT!! Bullets whizz from the miniguns, strafing for Mitsu!     It zooms off on its motorized legs at freakish speeds, for many of its limiters have been REMOVED! The wear and tear it's going to suffer today is tremendous but its specs just got truly scary.     "Where pretty girls are well, you know that I'm around. I kiss 'em and I love 'em cause to me they're all the same!"     WHOOOSH! Missiles fly from its launcher, right for Mitsu.     This is some pretty tough love.... 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The torrent of Electric Rage unleashed by Mitsu do not go unnoticed - point of fact, the blades almost get folded INTO the reality bending nature of the Drowning Doom Concert as bass thumps manage to hit and crackling guitar follows the sweep of each massive arc of energy flying about. The sky itself seems to break, torrents of water pouring outwards, sweeping across the ground - hissing from hot metal and bringing steam from the fanged maws of roaring, screaming Death Claws. If seen from above, the leather flesh and sweeping claws could almost - almost - be some sort of incredibly dangerous MOSH PIT. A DEATH CLAW METAL MOST PIT. Which is when someone starts playing the fucking WANDERER. Gentry Bot bobbing, T-60 crooning, even the broken and busted PA systems crackling out that old do-wap classic. One can almost -see- the pain in Drowned Ophelia's face as her lips peel upwards, nose crinkling. The next rippling guitar riff trips her clawed fingers, and she has to bare down. Letting the Six Stringed Guitar dip low, low between her knees as she curls over it, swaying back and forth to the hammer of AWAKEN. Rock may have been the birth of METAL, but METAL was it's mother****'ing ASCENSION. Her hair tumbled in front of her, swaying back and forth in shuddering time to the hard drum line. The very air vibrating beneath the METAL - but it's now competing with OLD SCHOOL SWAY. The Death Claws halt their deritivative run down alleyways, noses up. Smelling -weakness-. When Ko and Stevonnie arrive via Lion, Drowned Ophelia's features appear strained. But she's -smiling-. White teeth behind black lips, clawed fingers a blurr on the Six Stringed Sorrow, smoking rising as it burns her. Hurts her. Blue wake candles flaring and dancing. "Hello, children - did you come to drown with me?" She giggles, lost in the ecstasy of her misery. Obviously not recognizing Steven U in his current form~ 

:'''{{#var:903|Ebon Ribbon (903)}} has posed:'''      Grenade!!! Ebon Ribbon releases Danse instantly and dashes away moments before the explosion sends her sprawling across the dusty ground. Then, she is being charged again, and this time by a chainsaw knife! Ebon hasn't actually seen a chainsaw before, but it is clearly a knife. "Honestly, lethal attacks are a bit over the top, are they not? I have caused no harm to you, have I?" she says.      The pony's ears perk at the change in music, but to her it is just a curiousity. She isn't affected by simple genre changes! However, she does notice that Ophelia herself seems to be affected. Unfortunately, Ebon can't do much about it at the moment. There's a power-armored psycho trying to kill her! The pony's ribbons all swirl around her again before lashing out once more. But, rather than trying to wrap up Danse, the ribbons target a spot in his path to Ebon. They all converge on it, and seem to penetrate right through reality. Five ribbons converge, forming a warp in space-time before with a deep bass throb...      Danse finds himself charging right toward a black hole! It draws him in, and puts a severe drain on any energy source within its reach. But, that isn't the worst part. The worst part is...after about 5 seconds of draining energy and drawing in matter, it detonates like a mini-nuke. A powerful star-like explosion that, while it dissapates quickly after about 10 meters, causes quite a bit of damage to anything in its blast radius and leaves a small crater in the ground. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     As Lion leaps onto the stage, Stevonnie resummons her shield and hops off his back. She lands lightly like a gymnast on bare feet, BIG PINK SWORD and rose-themed shield sparkling in the stage lighting as she flicks her thick curly hair over one shoulder.     "Hey, Ophelia! Can't we just jam without fighting? I've got some new song ideas, and I kinda wanna play Shooting Star some more!" Clearly Stevonnie hasn't even considered the possibility that Drowned Ophelia might not recognize her in this form. She also doesn't look to be fighting just yet, though she is at least equipped for the possibility.     Meanwhile Lion carries Kotone as long as she stays on his back, but he seems to have some sort of instinct as to when to let her off and will happily oblige, seeming entirely unconcerned with the situation, though paying attention one may note his eyes track all threats in the area with inscrutable dispassion. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Mitsu perks slightly, listening to the voice from some speakers, "Hmm?" she questions, turning around from her whole 'let's punch anything in sight' and 'let's shock anything in sight' mentality... only to focus on the RobCo robot that's speaking. "Eh?" she blinks in surprise, <#-1 FUNCTION (+ANSI) NOT FOUND> comes Kratzenfaust's own chime. The jerking motions are noticed and she laughs, "Warning? Why?"     That's... when the miniguns start firing and THERE ARE MISSILES! "Why is it always the missiles!" she cries out, pulling out her Lost Logia, a black hole starts forming as it sucks up those missiles... and redirects them back towards something else, preferably where Mitsu is /not/. Like, maybe at Danse!     The bullets, however, clip the Rabbit's bodysuit, and dent and smash into Kratzenfaust... "Damn, gotta bounce from this area... keep it moving..." she starts running towards the side, one black hole following her, the other holding in mid air, facing towards Danse's direction and a building... "Hey, shoot me more, I want to test out the Rabbit Hole some more!"     Bouncing up into the air off some wreckage, she launches a small ball of electricity towards the bot, maybe it'll have more effect than it did on Danse, "Shock Blast!" 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' "What part of drawing Deathclaws to the surface with your noise isn't harmful," Danse wonders in resonse, though his voice comes spaced between and slightly dubbed across the crooning sounds of the local radio station's music? The Brotherhood of Steel doesn't typically make shows of force only to intimidate; when your weapon is hot, they're likely intent on using it, or expecting to. The fact that Ebon Ribbon would be regarded as cute by some worlds' standards doesn't factor in to a trained soldier's decision making. Whether she's the cause of the Deathclaw riot or not, she's definitely on the side of those that did. Once the dust clears and he is closing the distance, he responds to an earlier point, as well, "The Wastelanders might have their faults, but they're tough enough to take hits, and always come back!"     For as often as Rory and some other visiting Elites had marvelled at the degree this world had managed to downscale both fission and fusion technology, not to mention carrying tube valve-based electronics to insane limits, it does have its downsides. The parked and seemingly dead automobiles are one such example, but the compact fusion core has some hazards of its own. For one thing, while they're encased in a hard shell, if they're damaged persistently enough, they can go unstable from an overload. It's the same kind of hazard lights that flash on the heads up display, as that strange rip in the fabric of reality forms and begins collecting power that wasn't meant to be harnessed this way, all the while the fusion core drains to low enough levels that it trips yet another warning beep.     But, it's not the fusion core itself causing the alert, but that anomalous zone, which seems to almost have a gravity of its own, so there's no sense trying to escape it, besides trying to stop clear. He doesn't quite manage that feat of fine power armor maneuvering, the nuclear energy causing a densely packed explosion practically right next to him. That's enough to finally jar that shoulder armor, and in fact sheer that whole side's arm and leg plating, right off. One of the lenses of the T-60's helmet is also lightly cracked. Yet, after momentarily taking a kneel to try to minimize his target profile, and though it's somewhat shakey, Danse still stands up.     Hopefully...that shredded her ability to immediately conjure up new ribbons. Once the literal dust settles, he's already got the laser rifle perched in his now freed arm, adjusting a fine control knob on the back until he fights the optimal firing setting -- short bursts of multiple searing, red bolts. The loudspeaker still goes on, playing the music of metal's distant ancestors. Today is easily one of Danse's weirdest ever. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is now on the Lion Express with Stevonnie. So far so good they are making good time to catch up with Drowned Ophelia her eyes narrow for a moment as she looks at her. "No I'm not here to drown with you. I'm here to shut this show down." She keeps her pistol ready and the music is not enjoyable it's almost causing pain to Kotone as she stares it down. Steveonnie makes a pitch and honestly if the Drowned one goes for it? She'll back off fromt he fight, and she notices the Lion is paying attention to the fight? Clearly this is no normal Lion aside from it being pink. She waits for the moment to see if Steeonnie's offer is taken, but she's also ready to throw herself in the way if the Tear Drinker leader tries something... 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Shooting Star?" The Queen of Tears frowns, black lips pulling downwards. Those eyes of her narrow. And then a slow, coiled smile that winds across her black lips like a serpent coming out of hiding. "Oh, I know that misery. You've been hiding things from me.~" And then her eyes flit to Kotone, and the pale blue chin rises once more as she -smiles-. And giggles, a broken and mad sound, the dark ichor beading along her forehead. Holding the METAL - playing it, driving it, pounding it - takes its toll. Her fingers will be scored for days after this, the pure -heat- from the glowing lines of the Six Stringed Sorrow. "Aah. -You're- the one who stole Kotone's mind." White teeth flashed in a smirk, a narrowed gaze. "Naughty, naughty!" She singsongs, before she raises the neck of the guitar towards the heavens, raising his voice. "You can't stop this; Nothing can. It is as inevitable as the end! Stop me now, and it'll just come -back-. This world deserves the peace of the grave - and I'm going to settle all the pretty little lights back to their bed of -fucking dirt-." The Black Tears rise like smoke around her, whirling about her form, flickering and pulling inwards. Thickening. Which is when a super mutant atop a nearby building shouts to another "MUSIC HURT EAR! HURT MUSIC!" "YAY" Shouts the other, before it levels a -fucking mini-nuke launcher- towards the Giant Deathelin. BOOM. A rattling, crackling fire that rages up the cigar shape. A shuddering, metal groan as further minor explosions begin to rage. And the entire thing - begins going nose down. Oh, did we mention it's on top of the stage? Because it's floating over the stage. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' It isn't just speaking! The robot is singing! Well... it's playing the radio. So it's a long-dead artist's voice. Probably isn't a good idea for the robot itself to sing, right?     The SentryBot pauses when missiles go through a PORTAL. because Rory's cameras catch where they exit, and that gets her flinching. DIRTY ROTTEN CHEATING MAGIC!     "I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em they don't even know my name,"     "They call me the wandererer yeeeah the wanderer,"     "I roam aroooound aroooound aaaaround..."     With some sassy sax and soothing acapella in the background, the RobCo Sentrybot lowers itself for EXTRA SPEED and zooms across the street at top speed the moment lightning's unleashed. Seems Rory's directions are far better than the typical combat routines! This thing DODGES. Well, it tries, anyways.     The lightning blast still gets it as it splashes into the ground and zorches everything around! The SentryBot jerks around, smoke and sparks flying from some of its joints... but it still angles its weapons and takes aim!     MISSILES ARE LET FLY!     ... Except... not at Mitsu? Close to her, far too close. At the same time, its machinegun spins up and spits hot lead at her opposing side! Close, far too close. MUCH closer than the missiles.     It's a herding manuever. Rory's clearly hoping that Mitsu will fall prey to biological instinct and move away from the CLOSER dangerous thing and towards the more dangerous one.     BECAUSE KABOOM!     The missiles slam into a building... HEAVY CHUNKS OF WALL are dislodged from the dilapidated structure, sending a few tons of concrete, wood, drywall and steel toppling down on Mitsu. If she flies away from the Machinegun she'll just be even MORE in the thick of it.     Rory's guessing it'll be harder to portal 'a building falling on you.' 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' Stevonnie was about to have a discussion with Ophelia, who clearly had something to say and of course talking is better than fighting... But then something Bad happened. Whatever it was that caused that HUGE explosion came from some... okay, she'll think it, *ugly* guys a ways away. Looking up she is just completely dumbstruck for a full two seconds as fiery jagged metal comes barrelling out of the sky, straight at them all. A bubble pops up around her, but that is NOT going to be enough.     Lion looks up and in a flash is moving again, roaring. A portal pops up in front of him and he pounces the bubbled fusion girl, batting her through it like a cat toy before following. If Kotone remains seated, she will be carried into it as well... but to where? Of course, just about anywhere is better than being crushed under many many tons of flaming jagged metal! 

:'''{{#var:903|Ebon Ribbon (903)}} has posed:'''      Danse might have been expecting a follow-up attack, but Ebon Ribbon really sees no reason to kill if it isn't necessary. So, when the dust and smoke from the Ebon Rift explosion -does- clear, she has slipped away, hiding in the shadows of some building or other in order to make her next attack harder to counter and her much less of an easy target.      That is, until the Deathlin explodes from...what in the world are those creatures? And what did they just fire at the blimp? Whatever it is, that seems like it is her signal to exit stage right. "So...you are confident the wastelanders can care for themselves, yet you will still kill me simply for giving a concert that just happened to release these monstrous behemoths on the land? Tsk tsk. And I thought armored knights were supposed to be noble." Ebon's voice starts to get quieter at that point as she makes her getaway. She isn't about to stick around when that zepplin crashes and who knows what happens. She is much too pretty to be cut up by a chainknife.      "Fine, I will leave you to your wretched, uncultured land. I hope you enjoyed the concert!" she calls to Danse, who can likely see her galloping in the direction of the closest warp gate. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone did give Stevonnie Their chance to talk down Ophelia, she knew the odds were low but something felt wrongabout not letting them make thier attempt. Kotone herself as soon as the pain music come and the blast comes. Things are going pretty nuts here. Kotone is going to fire a shot or two at Ophelia for all the good it will do. "I am not a clone! I don't know what you did but I am Kotone Yamakawa!" Then comes Lion it's time to go she's bubbled and comes Lion she's able to thankfully be carried away. Who knows where they will end up and ko's also Dimly aware of the rad warning that showed up on her hudd, oh dear... 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia laughs - laughs! - at Kotone. "HOW ****'ING SURE ARE YOU?" She screams, before the explosions ripple on from above. She turns upwards, her stage lit by the falling hell-feast about to drop on her head. The brutal point of the slowly toppling monstrosity practically aimed right at her forehead. And she's playing. In point of fact, she puts a leg up on a stand, tilts her head back, and -cackles- as if welcoming the fiery end as the skeletal frame of the Deathelin comes crashing right down towards her. Faster and faster, the heat getting -incredibly- intense as she aims for the climax. Reaching higher and higher on the guitar's body, heading for the neck, closing her eyes and smiling something akin to peace. And there she holds that final, screaming note, letting it waver and grow loud enough to shatter glass- Before the Deathelin crashes into her. Folds into her. Obliterates everything near her, swallowing the stage and everything aboard it in the sudden finality of flaming destruction. And it's still coming, metal rib after rib folding downwards like a falling stack of cards, the conflaguration growing higher and higher. Until it explodes. The tail end of the Deathlin sent spiraling with lazy power aside, folding over and into a few rooftops as it settles. The Death Claws - without the frenzy, without the blood lust, but with a definite air of survival - slipping back into the darkness as the fire blossoms and booms retort about. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Why is it singing a horrible tune, "Ophelia's music is so much better than this trash." she mutters to herself as the bot starts charging at her! "Well, shit." comes another low mutter as she starts charging at it herself, "Shocker shield." she comments, enveloping herself in that electric shield ball. "So, shall we play a bit up close!" she grins, ohgodmissile! And machinegun! Quick, .. think... "Eh, let's just go through. Ophelia will patch me up."     She jumps just as the missile explodes in front of her, using it as a launching pad to send her flying towards that SentryBot and soon... clings right to it like a magnet, the electric shield popping off as Mitsu punches at it, trying to dig those claws right into that metal flesh of it. "You know, bot, you're annoying. GO away."     She grins a bit and sparks fly off her claws... "Shocker Tazer!" she shouts, jamming the claws into the bot and letting loose a massive burst of lightning magic right into it! Though, what happens when you destroy a SentryBot... Mitsu hopes it just goes boom and send her flying away... 

:'''{{#var:981|Danse (981)}} has posed:''' Pursuing a horse, as he's still calling her in his own mind, might have been possible, and he still felt like he had a score to settle with an out-of-town troublemaker. But as his shots only glance off the sides of the buildings she's taking shelter behind, another sound catches his ear, managing to briefly overpower even the so-called concert and their own counteractive radio playing. It's the distinctive high velocity whistle of a Mini Nuke arcing through the air, no doubt launched out of a former US Army prototype 'Fat Man' launcher. There are still a few of those floating around, most kept as trophies by Supermutant and Raider war band leaders...and it is always the height of danger. Accordingly, when Danse hears it, he ceases firing and immediately ducks behind cover, himself, on raw reflex and battlefield instinct. There's little time to actually try and see who it was aimed for, or by who.     Fortunately, it wasn't at anyone directly, but at the Zeppelin that had been camping out over the stage. And as if the nuclear blast itself wasn't fiery enough, the whole thing is soon in flames, and comes crashing down shortly after. It isn't the only hazard, though: The shockwave from the blast would also carry a burst of energetic radiation, the kind of particles that can really get into your innards and mess you up if you were to be standing too close. Fortunately for Danse, the power armor's frame is well designed for deflecting much of the most harmful particles -- hope everyone else is similarly prepared. The actual dose is thankfully also limited by the distance and dialed back yield of a Mini Nuke.     But, by the time the wreckage of the airship finally settles and Danse is able to get another look at Ebon Ribbon, she's already making her escape. The Deathclaws have similarly begun to go back to whatever it is Deathclaws do in their mostly subterranean and cavern lairs...probably snacking on settlers that wander in looking for treasure. And, of course, the music is finally dying out. Another stern lecture by Haylen about the repair job is about to follow, no doubt.     In between the songs on Diamond City Radio, Travis Miles inserts some news, "So uhm...an airship. Is that right, an airship? Was spotted in Cambridge, a few minutes ago, at the spooky old CIT campus. Some kind of, loud noise was playing, and eyewitnesses described the scene as -- chaos. It's, alright now. Maybe? It just got blown up...oh wow, that was right across the river, isn't it... Aw, geez. Sure hope they, you know -- don't head here next." 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' Rory's mentally scowling at the manuever Mitsu pulls, at first... but then Mitsu's flying AT the SentryBot?!     The robot's FAST, but it's not especially fast compared to a magic-propelled FLYING MAGE! It's tackled hard and goes roll-bouncing back along the pavement, impaled by the claws and FRIED NASTILY! Sparks and arcs of power fly from its body and its weapons half-melt and jam. Most of the optics blow out and its main headlamps are down. To say nothing of its power cores, which are now terribly overheated. panels on its back open to vent waste heat courtesy of huge jets of air vainly trying to cool it...     But Rory overrides this. The ailingg, ancient, SentryBot is in shambles. Its heavily damaged servos whine in protest... but heavier hydraulics win out. BOTH its weapon arms twist beyond their design parameters, wrenching themselves out of alignment to try and BEAR HUG MITSU!     It's at that point one has to question if getting up close and personal with a nearly-destroyed SentryBot was REALLY a good idea.     Its torso rotates towards the nearby ruins of a car and it speeds towards it even as its legs are tearing themselves apart. The RobCo robust construction makes this a difficult machine to bring down head-on!     Rory's well aware that this thing's driven by Fusion Cores. As awful as a design choice that might be for collateral damage, today it works - hopefully - in her favor.     Because the machine aims to EMBED ITSELF THROUGH the wreckage of a car to maximize and shape the explosion at its epicenter...     And the cores go critical.     KRATHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!     Blinding light assaults the eyes, thunderous noise the ears, and a brief flash of searing radiation go flying past, courtesy of the THICK MUSHROOM CLOUD that just burst up in the streets.     In Mitsu's face, unless she manages to break free! 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Mitsu's good at pissing people off when it comes to it, with reckless maneuvers, and this isn't the /first/ person she annoyed. But hey, there's something that's going on. With Kratzenfaust chiming with an energy increase, Mitsu blinks, "Oh... crap." the bear hug gets her and she's going with that Sentrybot!     Couldn't bring it down with a few shots and now it turns around and... wait, is that a car? That /IS/ a car! And she's going at high speed with this thing. "AUGH, Hey, let me go, this wasn't in the contract!" she shouts, banging her hands and claw gauntlets on it with ringing here and there!     There's a loud crash as she's embedded in the car and then under the machine... "Oh crap... no no no no no no!" there's that explosion... and she's unable to get free in time, "Shocker Shield!" a quick shielding barrier over her to help reduce radiation... and the barrier jacket helps as well. Thank whatever deity for being a mage, right? 

:'''{{#var:903|Ebon Ribbon (903)}} has posed:'''      Ebon Ribbon was almost home free, but then...one of her allies had to go and get smashed into a car and exploded in a nuclear core overload. She sighs, coming to a stop just before the warp gate, then turns around and heads back. She makes her way around the cafe carefully, trying to avoid being spotted, then when she gets close to Mitsu...those ribbons of hers lash out, wrapping Mitsu up and quickly pulling the downed mage to her.      Once she has Mitsu on her back, Ebon takes off again, again giving the cafe a wide berth as she makes her way to the warp gate and relative safety. "Some people have no common sense." she mutters to herself. 
}}

4590/Season of Pain 2 - I Had An Angel

2016-09-29T14:22:18Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/23 |Location=Earth-<GITS> |Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Drowning Doom looks to show cyborgs who shed their flesh what isolation really m..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/23
|Location=Earth-<GITS>
|Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Drowning Doom looks to show cyborgs who shed their flesh what isolation really means. A 'Altered Perception Virus' is propagating through Tokyo thanks to a combination of techy and death metal magic; One that removes all sight and sound of any other human, leaving one lost and alone in a world of ghosts. Can the heroes halt it before someone gets seriously hurt?
|Cast of Characters=975, 7, 1006, 42, 673, 525, 571
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It begins not with a sound - but with confusion. A screech of horns on the street, as a car suddenly whips sideways and parks right in the middle of a thoroughway. The man - japanese descent - steps from his vehicle, staring around wildly. "Hello?" He begins, before cupping his hands over his mouth. "HELLO?!" He's stumbling wildly, which would be a lot less amusing if he wasn't smack dab in th e middle of a huge crowd of concerned pedestrians beginning to gather around. "IS ANYONE THERE?" One of the pedestrians jerks back, and looks around as well. "Wha-.. hey! HEY!" And the problem seems to spread faster and faster, people seeming blind. Sort of. They navigate streets and cars just fine, sometimes pausing to slap hands on cars and scream at them to stop. The drivers within utterly ignoring the pleas, wide-eyed as well when they begin slamming on breaks. More than one person stepping out of vehicles, looking around with shock and confusion. Somewhere in an apartment, there is a crash of crockery as a pot falls. "Sakura?" States a father, staring around in his living room in confusion. His young daughter looks up at him, equally confused, but he utterly ignores her. "Sakura! SAKURA, where are you?!" He throws the cooking implements aside, running wildly through the house screaming for his daughter. His wife. Anyone. The wife doing so as well, calling for her husband - right next to her. More than one person wandering into hallways, shocked when they are brusquely shoved aside, confused and afraid. And, above, the sound of -hammers- begins. Eyes peel upwards, towards the darkening sky where clouds are beginning to form. They bruise and darken, even as the guitar rolls in. And there, far above the streets below, stands the Queen of Tears herself. Smirking downwards, as behind her the Dorcs work. Corrupted Orcs from MiddleEarth, with stainless steel glasses. Occasionally trying to out-hip one another with comments such as 'But you wouldn't know that' or 'I liked them before they were cool' as they tap away at razor edged laptops. "That plastic bitch will be here?" Whispers one dark creature at the Queen's elbow, who looks -remarkably- like Kotone. Save for the frankenstein stitching. "She will." States the broken creature, with a dark little smirk as she looks up at the sky. Rain already beginning to break and fall... 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone had been home in newport since her recent outings into the multiverse, she had jobs to deal with, orders to work on and she was fine with that. She also needed to clear her mind as she'd been wondering about some of the jobs she's taken as of late. She promises herself she's going to be far more careful about employers in the future. She had some music going while she was going over some designs on her computer. That's when one of the feeds she has watched popped up a warning on her HUD. There was a look on her face and it wasn't a very happy looking one either. She gets up, pulls the jack out of her neck and heads for her motorcycle the Knight on the other side of the hanger. This was going to be a bad day it seemed. She was getting the odd reports and paused at some of the growing chaos. It's some kind of mass hack? The only ones who'd be safe from that would be those who didn't have want or the means to cyberize. Kotone hugged her motorcycle after she'd taken a moment to load a few weapons into it's cargo compartment. The laws on weapons were always tight in Japan and only found the means past it with several laws relating to those who work off world. She might end up getting in trouble with the police but better that than a higher body count. She sends out a call for help on the Daedalus Initiative radio even as she goes. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Ophelia, the dark creature with the Frankenstein stitching, and the Dorcs aren't the only ones there. As if the broken Queen of Tears didn't have enough help, another stands at her side. He wears what one might think of as an Arabian-style outfit, though done darkly-- loose robes around his legs but snug at his chest. The man has red hair, long enough to be tied into a ponytail. And one might notice the black horns sticking out from either side of his head. Or possibly the fang poking out from under a lip as his mouth curves into a smile.     Ordinarily Razel wouldn't have that much of an expression on his face. Normally it's extremely hard to see ANY expression on his face. But see, Razel is a creature that feeds on rage. And being around Ophelia? Well, think of walking into a restaurant and the entire place's food supply has been cooked into a single meal-- all for you. Now imagine the food somehow never ends. That's what it's like for Razel being around Ophelia. So to say she keeps him fat and happy with her mere presence is not completely inaccurate.     Razel's not alone, either. There's a handful of his servants and minions there. All of them are clearly cat-people of various types. Most have sharply pointed ears, like a domestic cat. But there are a couple whose ears are rounder at the tips. These cats are bigger than the others. While they differ in build and size, there is one thing they have in common. All of them have empty, glowing red eyes.     And most of them? Are hanging around the computers. Because they've never seen them before. Humans and their creations have been gone for millenia in Razel's world. So none of these cats know what a computer is. They'll be staying out of the Dorcs' way, though. They're good at that, observing without being obtrusive. It's most of their job description under Razel, after all; they're his spies.     Razel himself stands near Ophelia and Flesh Doll. And he hears the question. "A vendetta?" he asks, raising a brow. Of course he's interested in this. Because vendetta means Wrath. And Wrath means he can feed more. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren's not /directly/ watching Kotone's world, but when it's mentioned on Daedalus Initiative radio, he's quick to check the news. A mass hack, and camera views from far away show... Drowned Ophelia, and some kind of empty-eyed catpeople. Oooo-kay.     After a few minutes to get ready and travel, Staren teleports in atop a tall building near the edge of the range of chaos, carrying an armful of camera drones which fly down to investigate. His own equipment is mostly blocking outside signals now -- he has his radio, and his drones and armor and headware talk to eachother, but don't accept new wireless connections. While observing, however, he does pull out a tablet, tell it to connect to any available wifi, and sees what happens to it. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:'''     IT doesn't take long for Rory White to arrive - she's been preparing for this, after all. The Starbound Flotilla teleporter technology thrums to life, sending spears of light down from the heavens and into a park near the chaos. Silvery drones materialize one after another, followed by a sleek, human woman in a skintight white bodysuit covered in stylish blue circuit designs for decoration. The suit boasts several hardpoints on the limbs and shoulders and Rory White's deployed with each bearing a slim Transhuman weapon - a rifle, a pistol, a short-looking stubby pistol-like weapon... and over her back, what looks like it might be a cluster micro-missile launcher. Her hair's been tied up into a tight ponytail and tucked out of the way. It's quite a different look from her graceful white robes and free-flowing hair. She's here for business.     She's here for battle.     Wary of the hacking going on, she's also arrived with her WIFI INTERFACES disabled. Only one drone has it active - a frisbee-sized silver Saucer, which floats up past the skyline along with several others. All of them communicate with each other using laser lights, tight-beaming instructions between each other and using the one wifi-enabled device to sweep around the area and see if radio's the source of this hacking! ... Or if maybe it's something else.     Four weird spider-like drones with wheelfeet fan out around the park, followed by two large vertical disks that go rolling along, seemingly harmless enough. Last but not least, great machines the size of small cars with four piston-like legs stand at the ready. Industrial bots that have been refitted with... speakers? great big speakers. Speakers, and also missile launchers.     One of the two 'Dwarfs' opens a panel, and unleashes a dozen drones that scamper off on wheels and legs and hoverjets in every direction, guided by a pre-programmed AI. They know their mission.... which, for now, is 'spread out, stay out of sight, and wait for the signal.' 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll - Kotone's face darkened by some deep seated hatred - moves through the collective Dorcs and Cat People, even as the Dorcs continue to try and one up each other. "The japanese word for cat is 'neko', but the appropriate term is 'neko onna'. But you wouldn't know that." "Technically the slang - which is more appropriate for this situation - is 'neko mimi', or cat ear. But you wouldn't know that." "Under certain situations, the appropriate term..." Out in the hallway goes Flesh Doll from the penthouse, towards the elevator. Which - itself - has been disconnected. Violently. The lights here are off, the entire thing cast in shadow, but not empty; Shifting forms await within, disembodied heads shifting about walls and ceiling on spider-like appendages formed of their luxurious hair; Fright Wigs. A few of the Grave Diggers looking up as well, moaning in their plaintive voices. "This music makes me want to kill myself - but in a good way, you know?" Flesh Doll does not respond, but instead waits by the hole where the elevator once was. Grinding her teeth as her own personal hate builds. "Vendetta? Yes.. against them all. Every one of those fuckers. Everyone who draws warm breath. I'll let them taste just how lonely they truly are - and then I'll drown every fucking one of them." Despite her cruel words, the dark creature almost seems pleased as she puts her foot up. And the hate - grief fed loathing, twisted from the inside out - rolls off of her. This is not a creature that can be shown mercy, this is not something fixable. Drowned Ophelia is, to her very core, a wicked, hateful, spiteful bitch. She leans back, the guitar beginning to really hammer away, the very air beginning to thrum to the sound of beautiful fucking METAL. Lightning webs outwards from the growing storm, before it begins crackling along the side of the next building. Almost seeming to climb upwards before it strikes the antennae cluste - and ther it focuses. STriking again and again, until the antennae practically glows - and the affect spreads. As does the storm, rain beginning to pound downwards onto the crowds below as Ophelia cackles madly. For Kotone, there is a moment - a brief, desperate moment - where her vision 'futzes'. And people begin to fade away from her like ghosts. But her offworld security systems kick in, fighting off the Altered Perception Virus. But other people aren't so lucky, more than one already getting hit in low-speed collisions from drivers who are panicing. And have no idea they've hit someone. Staren and Rory can find the same thing in their isolated systems. Anything human? It fades. Human noise. Human voice. Human -vision-. A world of isolation, of emptiness, with cars driving themselves, doors opening on their own. Blood on the ground but nobody, no screaming pedestrian with a busted shin from a low speed hit. That's going to get worse if the effect doesn't stop soon!! "Incoming~" Whispers the Queen of Tears, pale blue chin rising, eyes half lidded. A few of the park goers screaming as they see Rory's drones begin to deploy, confused and scared and -wet- as the rain falls. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Razel looks to Flesh Doll at the comment. "'Onna'... that was 'woman', yes?" 'Was', because in his mind, the language no longer exists. He looks to his minions. Most of them are male, actually. There's maybe one female. "A bit unfitting for this particular situation, yes." He can't help the slightest of smirks as one of the empty-eyed catboys gripes a bit at the word 'woman'. Razel doesn't respond.     Ophelia's comment draws his attention to her again. And that smile widens, just a touch. It's not a happy expression. Or well, it's happy, but not for a nice reason. It's a happily EVIL smile, as the effect of the virus begins to spread. And he looks to his minions again, nodding once. As one they move to where Kotone waits, also waiting for their signal to join the fray.     There are times when Razel's sphere of influence overlaps a little with that of the late Froud. And this is one of those times. You see, Froud called himself the Devil of Joy, but the kind of 'joy' he meant was the feeling of exaltation from tearing into living things and watching them die. One can almost see Razel's Ribika minions wriggling in restrained anticipation. Like Ophelia, their glee at the mayhem and havoc they're about to be allowed to cause is palpable. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone is not having a godo day and it's going to get worse. It's going to get so much wose she's unaware that Flesh Doll is here hell she's not really aware of what Flesh Foll or what the rest of the Drowned are up to but? It must stop, she weave in and out a mess of cars that auto driving features have kicked in to prevent crashe and she sees everyone? Seems to be alone. She hears the people panicing and calling out she stared. "God ... what have they done?" She bring her bike to a halt and now she looks about pulling her weapons out of the storage compartment on the big. "OPHELIA!!!" 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Concealment spells are a wonderful thing. They're not flashy, not immediately impressive, but they are terribly effective. Inga's concealment spell isn't like a classic invisibility. It gets inside your head. Makes you think you don't see the person or object being concealed. Blending into the background, the eye moving right past her... Inga reaches up to smear the sigil written in blood upon her brow, breaking the spell. Suddenly, Ophelia and Razel are no longer alone. Inga's gone right into the hornets nest. Indeed, she's actually been there for quite a while. She wears a long black dress, classically witchy with black fitted sleeves and an a-line skirt, various talismans hanging from her belt and an iron hammer around her neck, white hair tightly braided. "Hello Ophelia," she greets, one hand on her staff, the other resting on the small dagger she keeps at her belt. "Oh, and you have brought a friend," she says, tilting her head slightly at Razel. Inga's grip tightens on her staff, the runes carved into the oak surface beginning to glow as she prepares to get things started. She probably should have brought back up, but she knows friends are nearby. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' At first, there is thrashing Death Metal and plenty of it to go around!     Rory White remains relatively motionless for a while. Her eyes and ears, after all, are all around her - and as she determines that her system architecture is relatively safe, she brings up her Wifi! The Drones all link up with radio signals, and her awareness of the surroundings expands dramatically. Every camera is her eyes, every microphone her ears, to say nothing of the assorted other sensors the robots all carry. With all of that to focus on she has no reason to bother making any expressions or even twitching a finger in the park. Even the rain that starts to fall doesn't bother her much - as soon as she determines it's simply rain with the typical airborne contaminants, it's dismissed as nothing but an annoyance.     The screaming people around her though... THAT has her wincing inside. It's not something she has any way to express with her awareness so spread-out, but the many drones sweep their cameras all around at the people in ever-increasing distress and panic...     "This creature really is despicable. What does she even gain from inflicting misery and chaos? It goes beyond trolling and sociopathy... some supernatural compulsion or nature, like a demon, I suppose." Because that is apparently a logical deduction when you factor the Multiverse into things!     Nevertheless, it is time.     A Signal goes out over the Wifi!     One single command, and a chorus of responses. Or maybe it would be better termed an orchestra.     Because all of the large drones halt in place and deploy wide-panel SPEAKERS. MUSIC begins to blare forth from all of them at ALMOST deafening volume - it sure won't be comfortable for the panicking people but they already have the rain and the Death Metal to contend with... not to mention each other.     "Can only hope this helps... You really shouldn't go on parade about who and what you are, what you like. It just gives other people weapons to work with!" Okay, yes, she's ranting in an irritable tone in the park, and Drowned Ophelia is unlikely to hear. So is everyone else. The monologue is pointless. She's pretty alone over there.     Because in a world full of Humans toying with advanced Cybernetics, she's probably the only self-willed Artificial Intelligence anywhere around these parts. With very few exceptions...     The music of LONG AGO barrages the performance! An intricately orchestrated arrangement of Bach's 'Little Fugue in G Minor' with a heavy beat thunders across the park, down the streets... and if any of Rory's little crawly-drones can reach any public PA systems and hack in, over city speakers across the block! 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     <"I dunno, people can be pretty terrible..."> Staren replies to Rory's deduction. He sets his drones to tracking Inga's signal, then teleports atop that building.     This doesn't seem like the time for stealth. Moments later, a grenade blows out one of the penthouse windows, and then Staren drops into view on translucent orange wings of energy. He's quick to head for any available cover, snapping a couple of beam cannon shots at minions. And if he has a clear shot at Ophelia... he has an SMG loaded with silver rounds, thanks to Sigrun's intelligence about Ophelia's 'weakness'!     He can't think of anything to say, really. Words won't change Ophelia. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Black lips curl up into a cruel smirk as she hears the scream from down below. And how could she not? Even beyond the hammer of DEATH METAL, even beyond the frightened -maggots- rolling about down below - pushing and shoving at something they can't see (each other) - even beyond the drum of rain and the distance, the Queen of Tears can -feel- that loathing. That sorrow from Kotone at what has come to her world. The first song fades, and she snaps her heard around. White teeth behind black lips flashed wide in a smile that has less to joy with happiness than PREDATION. She flicks her claw out, and hisses a single command. "GO!" The METAL pauses - as her arm swings wide - the tapping of cymbals in the air, of pure -anticipation-, of the distant echo of songs long past. And then she hits hard, as the scream bubbles up from somewhere deep in her throat. In her gut. Rising in pitch as she turns her chin upwards, screaming at the storm ladden skies above. Potfires ripple along the side of the building she has possessed, a long tapestry unfurling with thunderous rippling; The Drowning Doom logo. A falling raven with an upside down anhk. The doors on front of the building burst open, pale faces grave diggers and fat bellied RatGuts moving outwards. Skeletal NecroMoshers and worse. Screaming. Cackling. Moaning. Hating. The crowds below begin to panic - all alone, each and every one is, against a Death Metal Corpse Attack. Shoved and pushed by forces they can't see, hands stamped and shins kicked. It's not bad right now, but it's only time until someone gets -seriously- hurt. The tide flows AROUND Kotone as she stands. For there, in the middle, is.. Kotone? Flesh and blood, stitch and hate. Breathing hard, her teeth bared with twin guns in either fist. "Hey, BITCH!" She begins, lowering her voice. ".. That's -my- brain you've got there." And then RORY'S FUCKING MUSIC STARTS. Ophelia claps her claws over her ears, the METAL staggering before she manages to recover. Then hisses at Razel. "Go kill that! It's -ruining- my fucking show!" The affect, the storm, halting in its outward progression. Even the Drowning Doom staggering, giving the 'lonely crowd' more time to flee. And then motherfucking INGA is there. Ophelia barely has time to register her before STAREN leap to the fray. Black blood splattering from the Dorcs as he strikes hard, grenades flashing and laser beams going off. The broken creature twisting away, putting herself in front of Inga. Even as she continues to thrash -hard-, the blue candles of her Six Stringed Sorrow flaring. Holding back fucking CLASSICAL MUSIC. FUCK THAT SHIT. Battle of the Bands indeed, but someone's fucking with Ophelia's stage. "How many fucking times are you going to get in my way?" She snarls. But the beads of ichor are plastering to her forehead; Holding an invasion on your own is -hard-, until she can build up enough where the METAL will exist on its own. STretching limbs of blackened hair and rolling disembodied heads all moving for Staren, lashing out to try and tangle - tear - and rip! 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' <<It's like they feed on misery and suffering like you need power or I still need some food!>> Is it right? She doesn't know but Kotone is starting to think there may be something to it and then Rory starts to let lose with classical music and as Kotone knows? Classical music is what spawned the Metal after all. How will the Drowned deal with that from which Metal itself was spawned? Okay Rock played a hand two but one of Metal's parents had come out to play and she wonder how it's going to go. Kotone keeps moving the battle of the bands have stated and she shuts down all her wireless systems. Sure it's going to hurt her in some ways, but on the other it might keep her safe. Yet she's about to make a move and she stops for a moment and stares in abject shock. "Wait ... what is this?! No what are you talking about it's mine!" She moves to bring up her pistol. "Who are you really?" Kotone doesn't fire yet, it's rather hard to fire at what seems to be your self. Could this be a shadow somehow? No it doesn't make sense the forest doesn't work that way, right? 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     It happens all of a sudden. Razel becomes aware of a presence nearby. It's just as Inga breaks the spell that cloaked her. His minions see her a split-second later, and move to block Razel and Ophelia with their numbers. It's not too terribly many, only about 10 of them or so. But it's still a lot to have to take on alone, considering each one is a humanoid creature with the proportionate strength and speed of a cat. They don't attack immediately, though.     Inga's instant sense from Razel? Something incredibly ancient and magical. And also incredibly dark and evil. Though his expression is kept carefully neutral, he radiates anger and malice. She may not even need to touch him to see glimpses of things that mark him. Anger, bright and burning, behind a black sigil in the dark. A red viper with scalding skin, hot to the touch, hissing in a way that is less threatening and more... beckoning? Can a snake beckon with a hiss? How can rage and malice be... enticing? And flames. So many flames.     However, not only is Staren suddenly appearing with a grenade explosion that throws several of Razel's minions away from Inga, there is also Ophelia's orders. He could remain and assist her -- because he's not sure she can take on both Inga and Staren alone. Also Staren looks a hell of a lot like a Ribika, and Razel is curious. As are the Ribika in question, as they turn to Staren and peer at him curiously.     But Ophelia will be stronger if she can concentrate past the other music. And if she's stronger, she'll probably be able to take them on herself. So he nods in the Queen of Tears's direction. Then he looks at his minions. "Go. Silence it." But he doesn't just send his minions. He looks to Inga, the bright spot he can see in all the darkness around him -- she literally shines with life energy to his eyes -- and offers a mock bow. Then flames erupt from the ground under him, obscuring him briefly, and when they burn away he is gone.     However, Rory will probably see the catpeople rushing from the building with Ophelia's minions, past Kotone without harassing her. Flames suddenly erupt from the ground again, burning away and leaving Razel where Rory can see him. The cat-people that spilled out from the building move to his side. "Silence that music," he orders calmly. "I will find the music maker and silence him myself." The 'him' is both for grammatical correctness and because Razel doesn't know the gender of the interloper yet.     As his minions move away to deal with the speakers, Razel seems to take a single step, and rise into the air. No wings, no mechanical apparatus for flying, he just rises into the air, appearing to just stand there. And then he begins to move, seeking the source of all this music Ophelia finds so objectionable. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll hunkers down low, nothing but pure -hate- written in .. Kotone's features. And it is her face, her eyes, her lips, her nose. Interspaced with the fine stitches of Ophelia's own hair, bathed in the misery and sorrow until the very flesh awoke, but Kotone none the less. "My name is Kotone Yamakawa. I was born in BC Canada, at Sunshine Coast." And suddenly she's leaping forward, the small automatic pistols chattering. "AND I'M TAKING BACK MY FUCKING LIFE! DIIIIIIIIE-" Copper shelled bullets pepper outwards as the darkened copy tries to do nothing more than kill the 'plastic pretender'. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga smiles to Ophelia. "As many times as it takes to pull you out of the water," she answers. Inga looks to Staren, making a flashy entrance complete with explosion and broken glass. Well, good, distracting Ophelia is the objective. Make her lose control of the invasion. Defeat her or make her run. Most likely she will run. Inga is convinced the Ophelia issue will not be resolved by brute force. Brute force helps though. Inga turns her attention to Razel and his...minions. For a moment, Inga is incredibly vulnerable. Her pupils grow wide, a vision assaulting her. It is brief, only seconds, but it is powerful. The wyrd of one that is old is more complicated, more overwhelming, more powerful. There's simply more of it--and this is tainted in anger. Indulgent, passionate anger. He bows then disapears, leaving Inga shaking her head, trying to clear it. Ophelia needs her full concentration. The Seer looks back to Ophelia, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow. "I thought we had a productive conversation the other day, didn't we? I've seen what is inside of you Ophelia, and no matter how you deny it...she remains," Inga says, raising her staff. The air vibrates with electricity. Hairs stand on end. The smell of ozone permeates. Then a nearly deafening crack sounds, lightning lashing out toward Ophelia in a bright bolt. If the minions still protect her, it might help--but it might power through or even chain. Either way, it sure is distracting. 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     WELL     This is a thing. Maaka only got the news while she was in the middle of coffee, leaping right out of her chair in surprise. Kaz, master of the obvious, is first to speak. "Boss, it's Kotone's world!"     "I KNOW!" Maaka snaps, furiously plotting a course as the Spectre zaps out of Samira's world, and heads immediately for Kotone's.     The Spectre stops just above the city, her captain decked out in STALKER gear and loaded for bear as she leaps right out of the ship's hangar, clinging to what can best be described as a tactical buggy loaded for greater amounts of bear.     Maaka enters the Razorback as it makes its descent, using a parachute to slow its fall as it lands onto a convenient highway, driving like the Devil's behind it as Maaka and Kaz both track Kotone's signal. Shame it's hard to find the exact location of everybody on the tactical net,     And then Kaz notices there's TWO signals matching Kotone. "Boss? Is it just me or is Ko-chan's signal fucking with us?" "Probably glitching. Our instruments are already fucked up, lots of shit over the radio and everything."     "At least the choice in tunes is pretty rad." Kaz mentions, shrugging as he breaks out his own soundtrack. Maaka scowls, unable to contest that opinion.     Fucking Finnish power metal, why does it have to be so hype? 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren holds his fire on Ophelia since she steps close to Inga. Then he jumps backwards, buzzing wings reappearing to carry him back out the window and out of range, but some of the hair just snags his foot. Letting the SMG dangle from its shoulder strap, he draws his beam saber and severs the hair -- if a couple of the heads manage to grab on in the time that took, he tries to fling them off, then stabs them if that doesn't work.     He remembers, now, that Inga won't actually die if she gets killed, but still, taking her out to take Ophelia with her should be a last resort.     Also, some demon guy is floating out of the building past him and down towards Kotone. Staren grabs his gun again and fires a long burst of silver rounds at him, but... There are other people down there to handle it, so unless Razel comes back for him, he won't pursue after.     Staren buzzes around outside the penthouse, trying to figure out how to quickly deal with all those minions so he can help Inga, WITHOUT blowing up the entire penthouse in the process. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa Stares down her twin, she wonders if this is how Miho felt? She stares at her town face she looks like she's about to freak out a bit but then the bullets come at her. She seems to know where Kotone was born and she bnarrows her eyes. "...I am not some damn COPY! I don't know what you are but I damn well know who I AM!" Kotone starts to move with a speed that is clearly inhuman, nope Kotone is making no pretenses today about being made of flesh. She falt and fire back while trying to evade th shots she's unaware of more help is coming, she's too busy dealing with her twin. She's turned off her networking to keep her self safe from the mind virus the drowned have let lose upon the city. "So what you want my brain?! You seem to be already moving and aware!?!" Kotone then changes tactics to one she doesn't use normally she tries to get up close and maybe even get into a grapple with Flesh Doll. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll - empowered by her bitter, broken heart - moves -just a fucking quick- as the real cyber deal. The Black Tears giving her power far beyond her mortal shell; Even as it drives her fucking nuts. Step for step, her pale skin a blurr of stitching and creaking muscles as she keeps pace. And when the REAL Kotone moves in to grapple - So does Flesh Doll. Tossing the guns aside as she pulls out a vicious gutting knife, looking to plant it -right in Kotone's guts-. "You fucking tincan clone! It's -MINE-, that's why I want it! You stole my life! You stole my future! You stole -ME-!" She screams in Kotone's voice, black tears slipping down her stitched together face. "I'LL RIP IT OUT OF YOU!" The two - for a moment - locked in mortal combat. And who can pull a BATMAN BANE now?! Drowned Ophelia's snarl grows, before she screams. "There is no SHE. There's only -me- you fucking moron!" Her voice grows quiet, calm and deadly. "And I'll drag you under long before you pull me up. I'll teach you the sweet release of sorrow's grasp-" LIGHTNING! FUCK! Drowned Ophelia raises the Six Stringed Sorrow, lightning striking; Crackling along the strings, along her forearm, heating up. Smoke rising from her form, claws blistering as her voice rises in pain. Sweet, miserable pain. The Six Stringed Sorrow shatters at last with a peeling note, a concussive explosion that blows out what remaining windows there were, the storm outside staggering to a halt. Flattening out. Even the Drowning Doom pausing in their madness, stumbling and seeming confused. Undriven. Staring up at the rain above. The Queen of Tears pressing back against the wall, weeping openly; Hate written plainly across her features. "Why can't you just fucking -DIE-? Is that too much to ask, you stupid fucking-" She pulls away from the wall, shoving the spider-legged Fright Wigs aside. Who, instinctively, turn towards Inga. Crawling along walls and ceiling. Ophelia herself? She leaps from the busted window, wings snapping out, heading right for - STAREN! Claws bared, a wordless shriek, madness in her eyes. Intending nothing so much as to CRASH into him, and drag him kicking and screaming down with her. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' Of course Rory sees it! She has eyes all around the block. Her perceptions are not unlike those of someone playing a God Game of some kind - or a Real Time strategy, more properly. With the array of drones around, all of their cameras link together to create a completely comprehensive 3D view of the entire situation. Advanced sensors in the Saucers are even able to see through building walls and locate people via infrared and other means, adding to the composite image. Heuristics and a measure of manual oversight apply colored overlays to everything - green for her allies, red for enemies, blue for civilians. And all of Rory's drones are marked in dim green. DROWNED OPHELIA's location though? The Queen of Evil Metal over there's marked with a giant flashing crimson icon and anyone viewing the tacnet knows what this means: PRIORITY TARGET!     The Devil of Fire coming so close to the park though means Rory starts panicking. One look at him and how composed he is during this escapade tells her he must be INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS... and not to be engaged head-on under any circumstances!     But unfortunately, most of her firepower is tied up... the Arachnoids, Reapers, and Dwarves that blare music everywhere are not helpless. Each being slightly bigger than the average human (several times in the case of the Dwarves), they're armed to the teeth with weaponry. The Arachnoids sprout hidden weapons from concealed panels and open up with micromissiles for Razel's minions! The Reapers ALL BUT UNFOLD, going from compact disks to a split-open disk with a dozen flailing bladed tendrils and unfolding weapon barrels that unleash ferocious hails of supersonic metal shards, bursts of laser light for eyes, and agonizing microwaves!     The Dwarves are forced to fold up their speakers, but they instead ready twin MISSILE LAUNCHERS. These aim upwards in arcs, fire off a dozen arm-sized missiles... and all of those projectiles swarm in from all directions, hoping to overwhelm the defenses of their attackers through sheer firepower!     Rory White herself, well. She's dressed up for battle, but she decides to hide behind a tree in the park, keeping it between her and Razel while the Saucers keep him aware of his movements. She's not sure WHAT he can do, but one thing's for sure - she's getting increasingly aggravated that he's on the prowl and distracting her from dealing with Ophelia! 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     Who can pull a Catwoman v Bane?     Maaka sure can. She plows through the streets in the Razorback, bowling over skeletons left and right when not remotely mowing them down with MG fire. The 240B mounted on the vehicle does good work, using 7.62 NATO in short bursts to drop anything that's not in the way, but still a threat with whatever missiles they can throw at it.     It's not long before she reaches the power building, and she has the clone in her sights. There's no hesitation in what she does; Her friend is in danger, and there's only a faint window of opportunity for her to intervene before Kotone is gutted by this doppleganger.     And as far as Maaka is concerned, Kotone's the only person of consequence here. She guns the engine and radio's Kotone a very swift message before she makes contact.     [KOTONE, GET DOWN!]     Immediately following this, the Razorback will aim right for the Flesh Doll, smashing Kotone's lookalike with lethal velocity. Anybody without the right amount of durability would be pulped on impact. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' The witch shakes her head, smiling unnervingly. "Yes. Yes that IS too much to ask, actually," she answers. Being honest. Ophelia's freaky spiders come scrambling toward her, crawling over the walls, the ceiling, surrounding her... Well, yuck. Inga pulls her dagger and slices deep into her own arm. Blood splurts as the vein is cut open, crimson liquid rising into the air, pooling as if gravity no longer applies. She flicks her knife and the blood starts to swirl, spinning around her like orbiting rings as she feeds it anima. The ring expands all at once, blasting outward. Upon contact, it appears the blood is somehow a very nasty acid. One of the creatures falls from the ceiling on top of her however, sinking fangs into her shoulder. Inga reached up and stabs it, spraying more acid-blood from her wound. Things get very messy, very fast. Blood and broken glass strewn across the floor and sprayed on the walls. Ophelia leaps out the window at Staren. Inga isn't sure that's going to end well for her... 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Rory's sight is filled with images of the cat-people that follow Razel around, with their empty, glowing eyes. Mainly bcause THEY'RE ALL COMING AFTER HER DRONES! They aren't Elite-level, not these guys. These are just contractees from Sisa that blindly follow him. He doesn't call his more powerful minions without need. So what of his minions don't dodge? Are pretty well annhilated by the micro-missiles.     That said, these cats are... well, cats, so only a couple fall to this fate. Those that do burst into flames, their bodies disappearing utterly. There's nothing but their soulless husks, basically animated by rage anyway. But the way they shriek, and yowl, and writhe as they fall, one could be forgiven for believing they wre actually dying and weren't already dead.     Fortunately for Rory, her Dwarves' missiles are forcing Razel's hand there. His minions can't dodge everything. And he's not keen on losing ALL of them here. So as the second wave of missiles is fired at his minions, Razel's attention turns there. He extends a clawed hand forward, palm aimed out, and a black glyph appears before his palm, backlit by flames. And from his hand, 'bullets' of flame explode, aimed at as many of the second wave of missiles as he can reasonably hit. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is locked in close combat with her twin. She will find that yes the knife ends up in her gut. She lets out a cry of pain, were she still flesh? This might very well be fatal There's pain a shocked look on Kotone's face but he's not down and out she. She turns off her pain receptors and moves ti try and pull free. "I'm ... not done yet." She's gong to risk more damage but it's better than being on the ground bleeding. Kotone is in full on survival mode at this point but then come the rumble of Alexis' machine. She hears the warning and drive to the ground even as the red fluid that pass for blood in her body leaks out, emergency sealing systems are underway but damn she's glad she's not alone here she keeps her head down and is hopefully safely between the wheels of Maaka's ride. Still Kotone wonders how the hell did this happen, why is there someone with her face who seems to think she IS KOTONE? 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' VICTORY! A snarl of joy as the 'false' Kotone bleeds red, Flesh Doll yanking the weapon back and preparing to gut her again. She then looks up as the vehicle bears down on her, and - for a moment - the anger falls from her stitched face to be replaced by confusion. "Alexis? What-" THUMP The monstrous copy is flung bodily away, tumbling end over end until she crumples into another parked vehicle. There she slumps, bleeding the ichor of Black Tears. Fingers flick, and she pulls herself upright; Shoulder dislocated. Several bones broken, in fact, but held together by the FUCKING SOUL THRASHING SORCERY of the Black Tears. And she looks up, something between sorrow and -hatred- flashing in her eyes as she looks towards Maaka's massive vehicle. And then she's gone, leaping -backwards- and down a water-way incline. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     "Same to you!" Staren shouts, re: dying. But then she TACKLES HIM. He did not expect that! While he generally hates grappling enemies, he does have some weapons ready, so, he just stabs her with the beam saber and empties the rest of the SMG's magazine into her point-blank. Also, if she ever puts any part of her body in front of his shoulders, the missile racks detonate -- each one creating three lances of high-energy physics to try and punch holes through her. The splash damages his armor a little, but whatever.     They fall.     The claws scratch his armor. The wild, careless attacks could /eventually/ tear through it, but Staren's not going to let a grapple last that long if he can help it. "Get away from me!" He tries to elbow and kick her away, but--     They hit the ground. Staren's armor protects him, somewhat -- he lets out a pained grunt, stunned instead of splatted. If she's /still/ on him after he has a second or two to recover, he pulls a satchel out of his magic bag. It's an ordinary satchel, full of like 11 more plasma grenades. "Burn."     They're surrounded in an intense fireball, and a wave of heat washes out over the area -- the pavement around them melting, and Staren's armor too looking decidedly worse for wear, the plating melted and blackened, in a few spots showing small tears to its internal structure. If THAT didn't get her off of him, he's in serious trouble... 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' The cats are FREAKY to be sure! Rory's seen only a handful of supernatural minions like these, and every encounter is incredibly disconcerting. Leaving no corpses, reactions senseless and expressions eerie... there's nothing at all natural about these things and that's what worries her most.     Sure, they prove to be throwaways that her Drones can barely handle - but there's a LOT of them, and her drones don't have unlimited ammo. Especially the missiles. Perhaps she should have kept more in reserve!     Her attention shrinks down to a more personal scale and proper expression returns somewhat to her blue-haired human form. She doesn't need to peek around the tree to know that Razel is distracted...     Between the Minions and the Drones though... they're making a mess of each other. The Reapers fare better than the Arachnoids, which are quickly swarmed and dragged down. They sizzle and groan, servos protesting the abuse of blow after blow from supernatural opponents. But it seems that maybe at least they won't explode? Because contrary to what most movies would like one to think, machines rarely explode dramatically when they go down.     Unless there's a BOMB in them.     The downed Arachnoids /DETONATE/ with prodigious force, though apparently not quite enough that it sunders their armored casings! Instead jets of heat and thunderous noise are flung from each joint along with jets of fire. Most of the firey plume goes UPWARDS...     ... And that's when sizzling, molten metal rains down on any minions that remained too close.     Good luck getting that stuff off, and even the downpour doesn't seem to be capable of dousing it, whatever it is. (Hint: It's Thermite.)     Missiles are blown out of the sky by fireballs, and that leaves the Dwarves mostly spent and helpless! They're big and slow, and unable to runa way as such. But they're huge, lumbering machines covered in armor... and after seeing what happened when the Arachnoids went down one might have to question what a good way of dealing with them is...     But Razel's back is turned. Rory grimaces. Dare she try to blow his brains out with a sniping laser? No, she hastily reconsiders. He's using fire magic, chances are he's RESISTANT to heat... and she's found that even Sectoids seem to have this uncanny propensity for dodging lasers, never mind that should be an impossible feat - nothing moves faster than light! ... right?     So she leaves the laser sniper rifle attached to its hardpoint on her leg... and instead reaches into a pouch. She hurls SOMETHING Razel's way... and it bounce-bounce-bounces across the ground... reaches the ground right in front of him.     It's only instinctive to look down, perhaps - but this is also the worst time to do so.     KRAKOWWWWWWWWWWW!! An awesome flash of eye-scorching bright light mingled with an explosion of smoke and a thunderous BANG loud enough to rupture eardrums goes off at Razel's feet - unless he can somehow deal with the Flashbang before that happens...     And Rory's plan is pretty simple. Befuddle and incapacitate Razel for however long that can stun him and RUN into a nearby alley! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Fright Wigs leap for Inga, entirely willing to tangle her - to bring her close to their dead, crumpled lips and sharp teeth. But she's full of BIG FUCKING ACID. They scream - a hissing, deathly sound, cut throats vibrating as they draw air up for the act. Hair thrashing as it is melted and torn by acid and knife alike. Inga is - after all - not a person To Be Fucked With. Her vision filled with the thrashing tendrils of hateful, luxurious hair- Even as Ophelia is falling. Falling like an angel from the storm wracked heavens, locked in mortal combat with Staren. Bullets rip and tear into pale blue flesh, splattering the ichor of Sorrow upwards. Her vestments - her thin, torn black dress - rippling as the air passes between the two. But there is nothing, nothing but hateful grief as she pulls and rips at armor, her blackened claws cutting deepest of all. For nothing can cut to the core like sorrow's edge. And then explosions hit. She turns her face, a hand blown neatly away, shattered. No bones; Only more ichor. A memory of muscle and structure. The scream is cut shortly off as they finally hit the ground, shattering concrete, tumbled away from one another. A clawed hand slaps the pavement. And then the broken nub of a wrist. And she -hisses-, dragging herself quickly across the ground, claws sparking against the pavement as she claws her way atop Staren. Teeth bared. "FUCK Y-AAAAAAH!" Her scream goes up as does her body in the burn. Thrashing like an Angel Witch, her wings burned away, her sillouette slowly dispersing. Black smoke rising from where she once was, rising into the air.. Storm clouds fold and slowly pass. The Drowned Doom slumping down, lost and aimless. BRUTAL VICTORY. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Another burst of acid-blood and the remaining creatures are finished, but not before they could get a few bites in on the Seer. Groaning, Inga clutches her shoulder, still streaming blood but beginning to heal. She walks carefully across the floor, slippery with blood as it is, until she comes to the broken window. She looks down below to see the flash from the grenade, wondering how Staren would be after all that, even if he did cause it. Supposing he might need healing, Inga looks up for a moment, says a small prayer for courage and steps out the window. Some force slows her landing, a certain buzzing sound... Inga looks down to Staren, clutching her staff, looking rather roughed up. "Are...you alright?" she asks. Blood is still flowing, she can turn the deadly substance into a healing balm with a thought. She expects he must be somewhat burned at least. 

:'''{{#var:571|Alexis Maaka (571)}} has posed:'''     As Fake Kotone, Fakotone as it were, scurries off like a boneless zombie, Maaka exits the Razorback, hopping out of the hatch. She's driven well clear of Kotone, and she goes to help the younger cyborg up. "You okay?"     Regardless of KOtone's answer, Maaka pries off her helmet, and hugs Kotone tightly. She gives a heavy, tired sigh, trying to push away the fact she just smashed a clone of Kotone with her vehicle like a deer in the headlights. No matter that, that's not an easy thing to unsee. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Drowned Ophelia appears to burn away! Staren stares at where she was, wide-eyed. "Did we kill her?!" He stands with a little difficulty, the armor's damaged joints screeching.     He reviews the tacnet data. Ophelia is gone. Copy Kotone ran off. The minions are listless. Only the mysterious demon is still here. Staren has another magazine of silver rounds, maybe he should-- OH WAIT BETTER IDEA.     Okay, the demon's in the air. That means there's nothing in the way. Staren reaches into his bag and pulls out a revolver, looking somewhat like an oversized Colt Peacemaker with a triple-M monogram engraved on the side. Staren pulls the trigger.     The Mad Morg McGee Annihilator. A creation of mad science, forged by a man who'd seen far too much horror that ordinary folk stood no chance against, created a weapon to slay the supernatural beings that stalked his world in search of human prey. Staren's first best friend, who conquered the demon puppeting his body, and came back not just to life, but to godhood. A god of madness and invention, who Staren believes in as one would a most trusted friend.     Two bullets exit the barrel, one behind the other, because MAD SCIENCE said that was a good idea. What matters in these things is more the intent, right? 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     (Only because of the power armor does firing it not break Staren's arm. He still has to brace himself, and visibly shakes from the recoil) 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     The hellcats' weaponry is fairly archaic, just swords and daggers. But they're stupidly strong and fast (though still not an Elite level threat), and powered by supernatural rage. The fire's inside them, too, so their blades can glow red-hot when they attack. A great danger to flesh and blood, but not so much to metal. Still, the minions are persistent and tireless in their attack, and watching one of their number screech and burn to death beside them has no effect on their morale. You can't frighten a zombie, after all -- there's nothing inside them to get scared.     That may be their one asset, particularly when a couple more die to a combination of the Arachnids' detonation and the thermite shower, flung away and burning away to nothing in midair, with those inhuman screams and yowls. It's here that they sound most like a cat... if one mixed the sound of a human-sized cat with demonic howling! It really is an unsettling noise for a normal person to hear. Thankfully Rory's an Elite, so it shouldn't unsettle her too much. They are, however, smart enough to take cover when the thermite rain begins. Razel is the only one of their number who could conceivably stand out in the middle of a thermite shower.     And stand out in it he does, the thermite sticking to him and burning, but the burning damaging neither skin, nor hair, not clothes. He is distracted once more by opening portals. But not to summon more minions. The minions that are there, those remaining, are heading INTO the portals. Seems like he's preparing a retreat, too, now that Ophelia's left the field. What villain wants to be all on his lonesome with several heroes? Certainly not Razel. And while this class of his minions are generally throwaway, he doesn't like loosing too terribly many. It's moderately difficult to replace them.     And about then he hears something tink-tink-tink on the ground under him. He looks down, thinking it's one of those blasted drones, his tail lashing irritably at the prospect of yet another one of those blasted things harassing him. He realizes a second too late that it's not.     In the next instant, Razel's eyes are filled with a white flash of light, his ears with a loud cracking BANG. And the composure of the Devil of Wrath shatters. He stays in the air, but his head goes back, his hands clapping over his face, giving a surprised cry. One that turns into a growl. Uhoh. He's mad. When he can see again...     But then there is another loud, sharp report on the battlefield. This one from Staren's weapon. Razel cannot see it or hear it... but he senses it. Full of intent to destroy the supernatural that means harm. And yes, that's more important than composition. If it's made for slaying demons? It'll work just fine against Razel.     The rounds pierce his torso, both of them, and Razel jerks, body abruptly stilling. It's unlikely anyone's close enough to hear the choked grunt. There's no screaming, no burning, no frothing rage. He just... stills, his hands still covering his face. His image seems to turn wispy, translucent...     And then it shatters, breaking a mirror. And he's not there anymore. Shards fall from where he was, like fairy dust -- very ANGRY fairy dust! -- but apart from that, there's no sign of him. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa is hugge but is also bleeding various fluids but it does seem to be slowling down. "Nanobandaged to stoip my bleeding. Damn it I made such a rookie mistake and tried to melee her." She seems to be remissing herself and she may have done more damage to herself with her pain sensors off but she's alive andshe's not alone. Maaka might get various cyborg fluids on her but she doesn't seem to care. "Thanks...she ... really thinks she's me...but how?" 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren shoots a demon and it SHATTERS. Staren is surprised, again, and stares at the smoking gun. "Wow." It doesn't usually do /that/!     He puts the gun away and starts clearing out minions with the beam cannons and swords as he checks on the others over radio. <"It's okay, we all make mistakes. On the bright side, it seems like we dispatched /two/ problems today? Although who knows if they'll /stay/ dead. ...Rory, can your drones check the area for any civilians that need medical attention?"> 
}}

4581/Grief, Misery, and All The Happy Things

2016-09-29T14:20:34Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/21 |Location=Beach City <BC> |Synopsis=Steven Universe is visited by a spectre of Sorrow |Cast of Characters=975, 1023 |pretty=yes }} {{Pos..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/21
|Location=Beach City <BC>
|Synopsis=Steven Universe is visited by a spectre of Sorrow
|Cast of Characters=975, 1023
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The boardwalk was cool, and quiet. It was that special time of the evening, long after even the Big Donut had shut down. Empty store fronts stared at the sea-tasting air, and even the gulls had quieted for their slumber. It might even be creepy to someone new, but these empty places hold no fear for the residents; Familiar places awaiting only the brush of day's light to fill with familiar smiles and faces, the scents of fried food and the pinga-ping of Smiley's arcade in Fun Land. Beach City is not an -untroubled- place, by any means; But it is home, isn't it? Although in a Multiverse, strange things do wander unchecked as they do now. For a mist creeps slowly through the streets, cold in full defiance of the warm air blowing from the ocean. It hushes the distant roar of ocean waves even as it magnifies and distorts sounds within its grasp; The creak of wood from each step. The sound of breath echoing from lips. The soft sound of weeping, a patter of tears from one of the shallow alleyways behind. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Steven wanders out of the arcade, having just finished an evening of helping out Mr. Smiley, sweeping and other jobs both mundane and strange. Apparently he is still working off some sort of debt, or perhaps he just likes the excuse to hang out at the arcade when he has nothing else to do. He appears entirely satisfied with his situation until a cool misty breeze causes him to shiver, a very unusual occurrence here in the warm Beach City atmosphere. Drawn out of his reverie, Steven looks about, something does not seem right at all.     "Hello? Is there someone there?" As the sound of crying reaches him, he looks worried, clearly someone is hurt and maybe he can do something to help! He always likes helping people! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The soft sobbing sniffles off for a moment, the mist thickening; Piling up upon itself. refusing to obey the natural rule of weather. Tendrils of its chilling touch tend to cling with each movement, like a mockery of ethereal webs - but it offers no resistance to movement, even as sight and sound are slowly ebbed away. The young gem's voice echoes unnaturally, bounced further back into the darkness behind Fish Stew Pizza. There is a creak of wood, something shifting slowly. Before a voice echoes back, flat and empty - and feminine. Familiar, much? ".. Little boys should be home in bed. Little boys might wind up dead." A tremble, and the gentle sobbing once more starts up. The occasionall patter of droplets hitting the wood of the boardwalk. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Aaaand Steven realizes just how creepy the situation has become. Cold mist in the warm evening, a secluded alleyway he can't see into, and a voice he does in fact recognize... This is dangerous! But still, he really did want to try and help the scary crying lady, maybe this could be a chance. Wait, did she say dead?     "Ummm... You're right, maybe I should be in bed..." He starts backing away. "Ummm, were you... looking for me?" Maybe he doesn't want to lead her to his house though.     "I... wrote you a song?" Still backing away, now he might be babbling a little. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The soft patter of tears continue to fall, a shuddering breath from the darkness. Before Ophelia's voice floats out once more, quiet and shivering. ".. No, I wasn't looking for you. I don't want you anywhere near me, you ****'ing.." She chokes off, voice trembling once more. And then the boards creak once more; Just once. And like a ghost from the fog, she glides from the darkened alleyway. Head turned downwards, pale blue skin making her barely a silouette in this mist filled atmosphere. No mad smile, no cracked and broken giggling - yet. Just someone who looks like Lapis gone horribly, -horribly- wrong. The black tears trickle down her cheek once more, quietly pattering against the board below her. ".. A song for me?" There's that smirk. Cruel and brittle as a shard of glass. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     "Umm, yeah, I... I thought maybe it could cheer you up a little." Wow, she's even creepier than he remembers, and that black stuff just seems to radiate everything antithetic to Steven's nature. "Umm, it's not metal like you play. I just have my ukelele. But it make me feel better so I thought..."     He trails off again, part of him really moved by the profound sadness of the crying lady, but more of him demanding he move away from the crying lady. Still, he can handle himself, he's a Crystal Gem!     "Do... do you wanna hear it?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Pain and loss are a constant; The only ****'ing guarantee." Begins the the Queen of Tears, even as she cups her clawed hands over her own mouth. A faint shudder rolling through her form as she slumps sideways, against the wall; Her pitch tears leaving faint trails of black down the back of her knuckles. After a few more moments her hand drops away, dangling at her side as her head tilts up. Those eyes - bright white against the backdrop of dead blue skin and the 'running mascara' - half lidded. "You can't heal a broken heart." And then she pauses, eyes closed. That cruel little smile curling up the corner of her black lips again. "You've got such a tender little soul, don't you? I bet you bruise very easily." ".. So why not? Play me your ****'ing sound, little man. I'd be -delighted-." 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Steven swallows, but the little smile, jagged as it may be, actually seems to encourage him somehow! He reaches back and draws his ukelele from his Cheeseburger Backpack and nods, playing a little warmup chord. Then he starts a sort of sweet and bubbly pop music tune. "I love the limelight, I love the stage I love to sing and dance and I'm all the rage Because I know if I can make you move, make you dance along I can take all your worries and pains away with my song So let it all go Let your body move Get yourself into time With my funky groove So if you're feeling really bad and life has got you down Just listen to this song, let the rhythm move you around Don't think, don't worry, just feel the good vibes through And your feet will tell your heart and soul just what you should do So let it all go Let your body move Get yourself into time With my funky groove"     By the time the song ends, he has slipped so into the sappy mindset he's smiling and dancing along a bit. Definitely a source of diabetic shock. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Well, at least it stopped the broken creature from crying. It starts with disbelief, bordering on horror. And slowly curls her nose upwards into disgust - and, finally, HATE, as she is literally backed into the alleyway by the horrid sound of -HAPPY-. Happy, let's-get-along, why-don't-you-sing-a-song-ness. Lips peel back from white teeth, and her claws spread wide- Before she pauses. And something goes 'click' in the black bitchiness of her hind brain. For Steven? Steven was loved. You could see it by how the fat pink bitch doted on him. The fat pink bitch also hurt Ophelia. How much would it hurt the fat pink bitch to watch the little stupid man - sink? Claws evaporate like smoke, curling between the pale blue fingers as Ophelia straightens. Tips her chin up, lips open as she exhales slowly - breath cold as frost. Strength. ****'ing Bleak Gods of DEATH METAL, give her ****'ing STRENGTH for this. And then she refocuses on Steven, the cruel bitterness of a smirk disappearing into a cold smile. Somehow, that's worse. ".. Backdrop's a little ****'d up, but A for effort." The creature squats down, lifting her hand. Ectoplasmic smoke whispers up from her, curling along her forearm, until the Six Stringed Sorrow bubbles into existance. The other hand gestures. "Why don't I teach you.. a new song to play? And a proper ****'ing instrument to play it on." The ethereal guitar's strings practically glow, a faint hum in the air of -anticipation-. It would take patience - oh, so much ****'ing patience - but just imagine how many people could feel Sorrow's bittersweet sting if she can pull it off? 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     She... wants to jam? That could be fun, if there wasn't something so viscerally terrifying about her. Though, he did get her to stop crying so that's progress right? Also, that IS a really cool looking guitar, like the kind on some of those album covers his dad has...     "Ummm, sure! That's what music's for after all, bringing people together! Right...?" Still a little uncertain, especially with the eerie situation, but that fount of positivity just never runs dry! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Your music, perhaps; But METAL is about -power-, little man." Comes the broken giggle from the broken creature, as she swings the Six Stringed Sorrow beneath her own claws. Fingers draw up along the strings, wake candles flaring to life along the machine-head; It needs no power but that of BEAUTIFUL ****'ING METAL itself. A quick and hard slide right up the neck and back down again, eyes half lidded as she does a few quick chugs; And yet somehow, in the background, one can -hear- the sudden bass coming into existance. The slow, steady pulse of a drum keeping time. "It's about taking everything that is inside you - and spraying it. Like cutting a vein, or chewing through your wrist. It's about hammering the ****'ing brutal of the world into a sound on the anvil of your ****'ing soul." She squeezes the strings, choking out the sound; All of which fades at once. The soft hum continues, however, as she proffers the strange guitar. Eyes half-lidded, a grit-toothed smile. "I don't have any friends, little man; I don't ****'ing want any. Those you trust will hurt you badly, after all. But maybe you'd like to try..?" 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Steven is smart. He knows this is not safe. He knows this lady means only harm. He knows that every single one of the gems would advise against even talking to her. But... he refuses, utterly, to accept that anyone is beyond help. Beyond caring. Not Jasper, Not Bismuth, not even the Diamonds though he hasn't yet really gotten to know any of them. He has done things he wishes he didn't have to, and he has hurt for it, and that just drives him to help soothe other people's hurts even more. Maybe that's why he reaches for the guitar. Or maybe he just doesn't have any common sense at all.     "Everybody needs friends. Mom loved heavy metal music, and I wanna learn how to play it too. Then maybe I can be your friend. Someone you can trust, who won't hurt you." It should be "loves," but then he's not sure if this alternate Rose Quartz still does, all he knows is the one from the video did. As for trust, well, he hasn't had an entirely positive track record of not hurting people who trust him lately, but he can't quit trying either... 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It's at the first touch that Steven may feel it; Power. Like a static shock, rippling up through his arms and back again. For as every grief is different - and the boy does have his own Sorrow, deeply buried beneath caring friends and family - so too does the guitar shape itself to him. A single, low note that echoes outwards, the mist dispersing as if blown away to leave the clear stars above. The thin spider-like body straightening out, shortening, even as the long neck fattens near the base; A Star body, the machine-heads long prined and tapered up away from the neck itself. Sparks from a comet's tail. Black bodies and silver lined, the Shooting Star takes form in Steven's hands, before it continues the low, slow hum of -anticipation-. "No.. Steven. Friends will hurt you; Maybe not intentionally. But it will happen. Maybe they'll grow up - maybe you will. Maybe they'll die, maybe you'll fight. But in the end you'll be alone as you look back on what once was; What could have been. The little betrayals, or the big ****'ing betrayals, they all cost; , and all that is good and precious in you will wither and blacken." Bright white teeth, behind black lips. "Like me. Just think about that in your pretty bed tonight - what will you be, when there's no one left?" She lets that hang for a moment, before pale blue fingers grip the boy's own hand. Her chin down, eyes covered by the shadow of her dark hair. The soft patter of tears falling once more from her chin. "Play me a ****'ing song, Steven. Reach deep." 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Steven watches in fascination as the guitar changes to fit his style. It doesn't look nearly as scary now, in fact it kinda seems like something he might have designed himself had he been trying... He touches a string tentatively, and the sound that echoes is in fact POWERFUL. Harsher than his ukelele ever was, but not in a bad way, just... different. This... actually seems like a positive thing? Maybe it's not a bad thing, maybe it's just... well, kinda cool!     He strums a few chords, the raw power of the notes kind of intoxicating, and starts a song a little faster, a little harder than his usual, though the lyrics don't seem much changed... "All of the things that have hurt you... All of the times you felt pain Sometimes it feels like too much to Handle, too much to contain... All you really need is friends! They can help you through! All you need is friends To help carry you! Through all the fire and the flame Through ice and sleet and rain Through all the worst of things Friends help carry you!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Harsher than a ukelele? No - more BRUTAL. More real. More somber. The broken creature pulls her hand back as Steven touches the first few strings; But as he sings and plays hard, a few interesting things happen: First, the strings -light up-. Glowing, as if caught in the feedback loop of his own sudden inspiration. The more you give to METAL, the more you get from METAL. Second, lights streak overhead in the distant sky - comets, in time to each string pluck. Sound echoing, the casual hit of drums to match Steven's song, his own accompaniment. METAL was a powerful ally, but it had no Master - not even the Avatar of Death Metal. And no one could argue that Steven had music built into his very soul. Third? Drowned Ophelia has clasped her hands over her own head, snarling silently at the upbeat and happy tune. She jerks, as if struck, twisting her head away and curling up against the wall behind her. When the last note is struck - the Shooting Star quite suddenly melts. Bubbling away to black liquid, which evaporates before it ever hits the ground. The Broken Queen gasping, gripping her throat as she straightens suddenly. And begins stumbling away, towards the beach. "Water's.. so thin.. suddenly.." As if she were having trouble breathing. But she doesn't breathe at all! Both hands wrap about her throat, and she steps into the sand. Falling to her knees, still gasping. "Dig the well deep." She murmurs, even as her form begins to drip away. Ichor to ectoplasmic smoke, which sinks into the sands.. TOO ****'ING HAPPY. 
}}

4580/In The Forgotten Halls

2016-09-29T14:19:52Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/21 |Location=The Great Ruin |Synopsis=Aborted Scene - An Eldar and a Death Metal Queen stumble across one another. |Cast of Characters=975,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/21
|Location=The Great Ruin
|Synopsis=Aborted Scene - An Eldar and a Death Metal Queen stumble across one another.
|Cast of Characters=975, 995
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Ancient Ruins. Far beyond the dipping waters the ruins stretch, slowly creeping from the abyss to present ancient architecture bones to the dark sky above, water gurgling and splashing through ancient byways while devices of power are hidden amongst the endless paths and mazes. A moon kissed sky above shatters against fountains and dew dappered foilage alike, the place run amuck with plants that dig deep into forgotten stone works. A place for reflection, perhaps, or a place to search for powers unknown. A place to suffer and perish, if one was not careful. And in the darkness, a cold fog creeps about the tree roots like smoke across knuckles, touching all with frost as it slithers and moves like a living thing. Tendrils cling and pull slowly away like ethereal webs, building and sighing away again and again. But this is no ordinary creation; No. For in its midsts walks a broken creature, bare feet daintily stepping over flora, the soft patter of ebon ichor dripping from a hidden face against the few paving stones left; Black Tears, metaphor made real as liquid sorrow. 

:'''{{#var:995|Ela'Ashbel (995)}} has posed:''' Among the ruins is the suspicious figure of an Eldar Farseer. Ela'Ashbel and several of her warlocks have secluded themselves away in a small alcove and sit around a fire. What are they doing in the ruins? What could the ever devious Eldar be up to!? 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Suspicious indeed! Perhaps it is the fire. Perhaps it is their presence. Perhaps it's simply that something with warm breath has invaded the black hearted bitch's perephrial vision. Whatever the reason, the Queen of Tears pauses in her winding journey. Bare feet turn, disappearing beneath the tendriled hem of her slinky pitch dress. The patter of tears falling from her pale blue chin in sharp contrast to the sharp, bright white smile that lances from behind darkened lips. Fingers of the strange fog creep in at the corner of the alcove, hugging the walls as if they hated the fire - but dared not go closer. The silouette slowly approaching, not walking so much as gliding like a ghost; Her voice singsong in the near silence night, sighing with the sea-stained wind. "And then a golden flash like the onset of Heaven, leaving her screams breaking my heart.."~ A soft, chanting singsong. 

:'''{{#var:995|Ela'Ashbel (995)}} has posed:''' Few can sneak up on a group of warlocks, particularly one with a farseer as talented as Ela'Ashbel among them. She stands, replacing her helmet upon her head and plucks her witchspear from where it leaned nearby and prepared to greet the strange woman. "State your purpose." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The figure pauses near the alcove, swaying slowly, head down. Her singsong whispering away, before she lifts her head. Bright eyes, made brighter still in juxtaposition to pale blue flesh and the streaks of black ichor that run down her cheeks like ruined mascara. The path of the Black Tears that even now drip from her jaw. Black lips pull into a bitter, cruel little smile as she lifts her clawed hands in mock supplication. "Misery." She answers, before beginning to tick the answers off clawed fingertips. "Mayhem. Monstrosities. Malovence. Maliciousness. Maleficience." A pause, and a broken giggle. "Murder." And then she sways to the side, pressing her back up against a stone pillar, head tilted back. That cold, quiet smile still on her face as her eyes flicker down to the Witchspear. Noooot willing to come much closer. "And you? Nice ****'ing helmet." 

:'''{{#var:995|Ela'Ashbel (995)}} has posed:''' There is no expression to read thanks to the eldar's helm, but it is unlikely that she hs pleased with what the stranger has to say. "Those words do not speak of good intent. I recommend you depart." Ela'Ashbel states flatly, her voice distorted slightly by her helmet. "Our business is none of your concern." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Mm hmm~" Begins the dark creature, as the broken giggles erupt from it again. Before she - well, lies. Pushing away from the stone pillar at last, the Black Tears that fall from her eyes evaporating into an ectoplasmic smoke before they hit the ground; Curling up and around her form as her chin rises. "Well, when it's in my ****'ing house it is. Besides.. good intent is overrated." A flash of white teeth, before claws come up in a shrug. "But hey, it's cool. You must be new here. Oh, hey.." Eyes flick down again. And her head tilts a bit as she glances to a particular little 'stone' in the armor. "Now that's something new. None of the other ones I found had it.." 

:'''{{#var:995|Ela'Ashbel (995)}} has posed:''' Ela'Ashbel is by no means thrilled with their respite being interrupted by a clearly madwoman. "I suspect this is not actually your house." The Eldar retorts before leveling the witchspear at Ophelia. "A creature such as yourself is not welcome among us. You should depart before trouble finds you." 
}}

4556/So Frail

2016-09-29T13:17:37Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/16 |Location=Earth-7207 <MANA> |Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Drowning Doom invade a world already on the brink, haunted by the ghosts of..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/16
|Location=Earth-7207 <MANA>
|Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Drowning Doom invade a world already on the brink, haunted by the ghosts of ancient terrors. Drowned Ophelia will awaken these monstrosities, and set them loose on an unsuspecting world - until some heroes show up to stop her.
|Cast of Characters=975, 151, 928, 714, 385, 215, 691
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It begins - with a sound. Slow and pensive, it winds its way across wind swept prairies of the mid-west in this new, ruined world. It slithers through ruins long since buried, mementos to a world long since forgotten. Moaning, the sound carrying far further than it should naturally be able to - reverberating across the fibre of reality, an echo of its strength from the BRUTAL WORLD of it's birth. DEATH METAL. Follow the sighing, sawing sound back to its origin point, and one will find the Six Stringed Sorrow. A slender, long necked instrument, wake candles flickering with blue flames where one would normally find the machine head pegs. Let the eye draw back, and see the blackened claws that pluck and glide along the glowing strings, harmonizing - summoning - the METAL. The very air vibrates with it, settling into a communion with the DEAD GODS. Let the eye draw back further, and find Drowned Ophelia. Pale blue skin lit in the dying light, swaying slowly as she brings the sound towards it's first drop off - a woman pushing a metaphorical car towards the metaphorical crevice. Draw back further, and see her stage - massive bone hands that curl up and closed, as if to hide whatever lays beneath them. Further back? It's a giant fucking SPIDER. Made of metal, steam hissing and long legs gouging out rivets from the earth as it slowly clumps forward, pistons thumping and whirring in time to the sudden drums. Just in time for Ophelia to tilt her head back and -SCREAM-. It comes from somewhere deep in her gut, bypassing her throat entirely, rattling with her DEATH ROAR. The hands slowly unfold, mechanisms shivering, to reveal the STAGE behind, dull eyed zombies and cackling skeletons cranking and pushing at levers. Lights flickering to life and swingout out, highlighting the night sky above. Storm clouds bubbling into existance. But it's not the mobile stage. It's not the slowly forming storm. It's not even the GIANT FUCKING SPIDER. No - it's the shades. They're -congregating-. Harmless when not provoked, they're moving towards the sound of DEATH METAL, towards the ancient memories, towards the promise of misery and sorrow - things hidden. The sweet release, the agony, of -knowing-. THAT'S what's to be feared. Flickers of darkness curling through the ancient shadows like ink through milk, calling forth their Ending. The Drowning Doom, MARCHES. Themesong: MirrorThrone - 'So Frail' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_qRLlnsjhU 

:'''{{#var:151|Ainsley (151)}} has posed:''' The shades were inert until Ophelia disturbed them. They went through their eerie silent lives among a local ruin, pretending to drive cars, to eat food, to have relationships and grudges and more. Their dream-like cycle was disturbed only when an alien force washed over them and broke the Shades from their stupor. These things are not ghosts. They are the images of human life before the great disaster that killed the people that once lived here. These manifested nuclear shadows of a sort cease looking human the moment they can 'see' the world around them. They become a surge of malevolent darkness, hundreds of hungry monsters with deep white pits for eyes crawling, skittering, sprinting and slithering across the wasteland to the nearest source of untainted mana. They hunger for life. And the best source of life is people. A local town's alarms go off and the authorities that had not anticipated something disturbing the shades like that calls out for help from the Multiverse. They call out for help from the Union, mercenaries, anyone that could protect them from the dark army that is charging toward them. There's a warp gate at the edge of town, and right out of the gate people would be able to see the things on the horizon getting steadily closer and closer. The music Ophelia provides to these horrid monsters eggs them on to the point of frothing wrath, and a horrific feeling of evil pressure thrums in the air. This is a good example of why Ainsley doesn't ever visit her own world, and also a good reason why she's not actually here right now. The animal people are still rushing to their homes to reinforce their ill-kept wards, and one poor overly panicked hedgehog man with a limp and a bit too much padding keeps tripping and stumbling all over himself like an adorably round ball of fear. The sky goes from blue to grey the closer one gets to the Shades. They suck the very joy from the world around them as they progress, trampling the earth and leaving only ash and death. Even clouds vanish from the sky as the mana effects ripple outward. 

:'''{{#var:928|Momoyo Kawakami (928)}} has posed:'''     Stepping through the portal right in front, Momoyo is the first to arrive. Recklessly, she tosses her hair and takes in a deep breath. She had expected... well, she didn't know what to expect but it was significantly less strange than she had thought. She hadn't done much reading after all.     After a step or two though, she stops. Surveying the scene and reaching out to ascertain how many civilians she could detect at this range and their locations. Her eyes narrow on the hedgehog struggling against the horde. "Damn..."     Like a lightning bolt, she charges off to try and close the distance near-instantly and get the man to safety. Dust clouds follow behind her along with the wind as the high school girl moves, her red eyes narrowing as she surveys the monsters... and only grows more excited. Yes, this girl liked violence and the aura surrounding her was only psyching her up even more. Were it not for the man she was trying to carry she wanted to charge right into the fray! 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Just how does Sanary keep getting herself roped into these messes with Ophelia? It's not like she's particularly fond of the woman after everything that's happened, but... Well, she /did/ do a good job in that whole revenge thing. Plus, it certainly doesn't hurt to have wild cards like her on her good side, right?      Right. Of course, the axe healer's learned quite a bit from the last few times: Namely, making sure to actually have armor on for these kinds of missions what with all the freaking lasers and area-wide bombardments the Union's been so fond of throwing around. She's not taking any unnecessary risks today: her heaviest green armor, a pair of shields, and a whole lot of gray loops encircling her limbs and gear just incase she needs to move fast.      Still, that doesn't mean she necessarily has to like what they're doing. "So... Uh. Ophelia. Do all these... Trips we've been on actually make you stronger or anything?" The healer calls out while seated upon the massive spider creature, peering at whatever it's made of and occasionally glancing at the multitude of shades approaching from below. "I mean.. All this stuff. You building a sleeper army out of all this or something?"      Where did she even learn that term? Is she even using it correctly? 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' With trouble breaking loose in Ainsley's world, Yuna decided it was time to stop focusing quite so narrowly on Ravnica. Ainsley's a friend, after all, and whatever these Shades are, they're apparently dangerous - if not by virtue of conscious malice, then by the ambient effects they have on their surroundings - and as soon as Yuna is through the warpgate, she can see it for herself. The darkening of the sky, the fading of the ground ... Yuna shudders briefly, sucking in a breath. "Jiina, let's combine; I'm going to want Powered Form here. Elner, high surveillance, I want your bird's-eye view of what's going on and where we need to be. Marina, Erina, stick close to Elner and provide fire support if needed." One transformation sequence later, Yuna's basic Light Suit has been 'augmented' by the addition of the bulky exo-frame that comprises her Powered Form, while the remainder of the Matrix of Light (one robo-faerie and two human-sized armored gynoids) are heading up into the sky, to where Elner can help spot trouble for the Union and other good guys. An additional moment for Yuna to call for her shield Shugoseiheki, and to silently conjure the Matrix Divider in her hands ... and then Yuna lights up her heavy armor's hoverthrusters and heads for a point between the village and the approaching Shades. Yuna opens fire with the Matrix Divider as soon as she can see the not-ghosts - possibly shooting a few of the Shades that might have threatened Momoyo, *definitely* giving the other villagers some much-needed cover fire to get inside. 

:'''{{#var:215|Iria (215)}} has posed:''' Leaving her cape behind to allow her a bit more freedom of movement, Iria arrives via another nearby warpgate as well. Unlike Momoyo who just arrived, Iria is a bit less reckless and instead of flipping her hair, something she usually does when she's making a point or proving she's called someone's bluff, she takes out her binoculars and surveys the general area. Once she's gotten a good feel for what's going on, she scowls and puts her binoculars away before taking out her rifle and loading a clip into it, before using the strap to keep it attached to her shoulder. "Sure beats hunting bank robbers," Iria comments to herself, remembering how she was called to San Jose-8237 recently to help in the arrest of a bunch of notorious bank robbers who had been moving so fast that the local police couldn't catch them. She'd caught them singlehandedly, and even declined the reward, saying she was doing what she felt was right. After she's done reflecting on everything, Iria carefully makes her way to where the others are headed. When she's close enough, she too unstraps her rifle and opens fire, attempting to assist Yuna in the covering fire and help the villagers get to safety. Whether or not it works is irrelevant, it's the effort that counts in Iria's mind. 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' Yari, for once, is riding along right near Sanary. Very close by, in fact. Mostly because she doesn't trust Ophelia farther than she can toss her with one pinky. She's been sharpening a kunai the entire time and generally looking unhappy. She has ear-plugs in. Yari Takane /hates/ death metal. This might be due to Ophelia's influence here. Still, the ninja adjusts her kimono, and lets out a heavy sigh. "That's a very good question. What /do/ you hope to gain from all this?" Asks the nin-lizard, before turning back to Sanary. "Sleeper agents imply any amount of subtlety or nuance in their attack plans. A giant spider is not a subtle plan." She then adds, voice utterly disapproving. This is going to be a long operation. The ninja sits up though as the Unionites begin to engage the Shades and a certain high schooler saves a guy. She's too far away to see exactly /who/ it is, but the ninja's already scanning the surroundings. And she /swears/ she feels a familiar tickle on her ruined eye. Already her teeth are gritting. Her tail lashes. She looks even more annoyed than she was for some reason. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Sleeper army? Fuck that. I want them to -know- I'm coming." Cackles Drowned Ophelia, leaning back until her throat is exposed to the sky. Practically inviting that blade, isn't she? She's giggling madly, the DEATH METAL growing louder with each passing moment as she begins to climb towards her solo. The giant spider picking up speed, as if drawn along the current - the dark waters of a Shade flood, the crawling, sick monsters directed by the DEAD GODS OF METAL like one would direct a firehose. Her eyes are slitted, dark and deep, as she licks her lip and practically hisses. "It pleases the fucking DEAD METAL GODS. With each Season of Pain, the multiverse knows them more and more. It will begin to fear the turn of seasons. And, one by one - I'll pluck the fucking lights from the sky. -They- have to win every time - I only need to win -once-. Loss is as inevitable as poison in the fucking vein, Sanary; Sorrow swallows all in the end." Her head turns towards Yari, and her eyes are bright. Bright and mad, as if the ninja-lizard had not tried to choke her to death. As if she had not driven said creature to violence, taunting her in her wounded state. It was a hatred shared - one that thrived. Her tongue poking out over black lips, white teeth biting hard - black ichor dripping from the corners of her mouth. "Subtle's for pussies; Grow a pair." And then she cackles, swinging her arm out. It circles, long and slow as the drums begin to pound harder. Seizing the tune - changing it. The Shades, driven by the hammer of her FUCKING METAL, surging forward. Hungry. Hungry and empty and hollow and wanting more and more AND MORE. "FEED! FEED! FEED AND KNOW LIFE'S SORROW ONCE MORE!" She screams, lightning crackling over form, grounding itself from her guitar. Pot fires ripple upwards from the side of the stage, the storm above swirling outwards. Feeding on the misery of the Shades, which in turn are fed by the DEATH METAL, a vicious cycle only growing stronger with each passing moment. The first of the return fire slams into the crawling chaos; Blackened shades -bleed-. Mostly red, their white eyes strained - the scattered few up front dissipating beneath the fucking brutal artillary of lasers. But there are so many more, and the fucking METAL is getting louder. Spreading wider. Calling, screaming, accusing - waking the dead. "-Heroes-" Cackles the mad, broken thing that directs this, the DROWNING DOOM, LIVE AT BURNT WORLD. Themesong change: Arch Enemy - 'I Will Live Again' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OyEu9y6wifs 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Weirdly enough, the death metal doesn't quite seem to phase the one-eyed healer. Maybe it's just a lingering side-effect of being connected to Ophelia that time, but... Well, it's better than having her ears bleed!      Sanary won't admit it, but she's also bobbing her head to the beat. Just a little, though! She nods slowly at Yari's clarification of the sleeper thing, and just like that, Sanary's misconceptions are cleared up! Sort of. No, a lot.      Note to self: It does not involve actually sleeping or even pretending to sleep. She does seem satisfied by that explanation from Ophelia regarding her goals, at least, although her response to the ninja does draw a dirty look from the one-eyed healer.      Thankfully, Sanary's sufficiently distracted when the projectiles start raining down on the shades. The healer finally gets up and braces her shields. "We got incoming soon... Stay on guard." She sounds just a little more awake this time, what with the vaguely familiar lasers coming from Yuna in the distance. Not that she can identify the idol just yet, but she's been shot by her enough to recognize that pattern.      Things just got a lot more interesting. "... Yuna's here. And at least two others with her." She glances over at Yari, giving her an odd sort of look before keeping her feet firmly planted on that spider and...      Not moving anywhere. Yet. "We should wait for them to come to us. No use risking our position just rushing out there, right?" 

:'''{{#var:928|Momoyo Kawakami (928)}} has posed:'''      Having shuffled her charge into safety, she turns around to face then oncoming horde. Her blood was pumped and she was getting excited, the bestial grin could easily be seen in her eyes as her teeth flashed. "Alright, time to carve a path out of this horde... I've not fought anything this horrible looking since that dragon on Lordran on my first mission!" Her fist pulls back to gather energy, and then a bright yellow beam arcs through the crowd, lancing through the horde viciously in the general direction of the spider off in the distance!     "Kawakami Style: HOSHI GARASHI!!!"     The cylindrical beam fires the first return shot into the horde, announcing her presence immediately as she challenges the legion of angry monsters head on gleefully, her jacket whipping behind her in the wind in front of the little man's house! 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' That urge to strangle just increases as Ophelia speaks. The lizard pointedly turns away. "I wouldn't expect a /civilian/ to know the advantages of a proper attack plan. Unlike...this." She waves her hands at shades, undead, and the ridiculous spider-bone-walking-stage. But at least she commands her minions, urging them forward. Sanary mentions Yuna on the battlefield, and then Momoo unleashes her power in the back to lance through the horde. A chill runs through her spine, and she forces herself to concentrate. Pulling out a long-barrelled rifle, she props up her knee and rests the gun on it. Taking aim, she tries to line up a shot on Yuna's chest! Not actual shot yet, though. She slowly nods. "Agreed. If they get too close, I'll put a bullet between their eyes." Yari goes on Overwatch position! 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' When Yuna first heard Ophelia's 'background noise,' she really thought it WAS only noise - she didn't think it was supposed to be any kind of music. Then somebody identifies the 'noise' as actual music - not a kind she's familiar with, but music nonetheless ... at least allegedly ... and Yuna shakes her head. Whoever decided that death metal counts as 'music' ... well, she's heard other forms of 'metal' music before, but this stuff just hurts to listen to. Or maybe it's the Shades wreaking havoc. Yuna doesn't have *that* kind of supernatural sensitivity, though - dark spirits wreaking havoc shouldn't make her head hurt all by themselves. So it's probably the alleged 'music'. With Elner keeping tabs on things from above, Yuna knows that the 'music' is coming from that giant spider thing, and Elner's picked up on the fact that Ophelia isn't alone out there. Momoyo's Hoshi Garashi draws her attention a bit to see how thickly packed the swarm is ... yep, that's a lot of Shades. "Iria, focus on holding the border for a moment, I'm angling for a better shot!" Yuna calls out, then reactivates her hoverthrusters and maneuvers away. A few seconds give her the position she was hoping for; she touches down again, planting the exo-frame's heels as deeply and solidly as she can to brace herself. The lenses on her outer shoulders slide open - the shoulders of the powered manipulators and their arms, not Yuna's own arms or shoulders - and the beam emitters within begin crackling ... And then the beam cannons fire. Yuna picked her firing position to put the thickest part of the Shades directly between herself and Ophelia's spider-thing, while avoiding catching her allies in the line of fire, and her beam cannons carve a swath through the Shades - twin torrents of radiant concussive force. The blasts might not reach far enough to hit the Spider, but they should at least put the bad guys on notice. 

:'''{{#var:215|Iria (215)}} has posed:''' Iria's no music critic, but she knows that's not the best kind of music for a fight... or anything else for that matter. She turns away briefly before hearing Yuna's call out to her and she gives a nod to her friend. "Understood, Yuna! I'll take care of this!" She turns to face the Shades and smiles with an evil twist to it. "You're not getting past me that easily!" Iria yells as she opens fire on the Shades, trying to maintain a steady stance to avoid falling over or anything like that which might give the Shades a chance to burst forwards. "Doesn't matter how many there are, I've got plenty of ammunition for ya!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The twin beams of combined MURDER LIGHT curl through the crawling chaos, splitting them down the middle; Carving a wave break in the enroaching hoardes, their lonesome cries echoing dully, screaming their frustration. And blood - most of it red, but other hues are seen. A channel straight up the middle, but it won't last long, the monstrous echoes of a world long dead falling in on themselves like the Red Sea collapsing. The sudden removal of the middle press frees Iria to hold the front line - her crackle of her weapons slowing the hectic, mad advance into a crawl as the Shades fall upon one another, trying to press closer. Inch by inch. If this bothers the Queen of Tears, it's unseen - for her smile only grows wider. White teeth flash behind black lips as she begins to arch her back, the Six Stringed Sorrow's machine head crawling towards the blackened heavens above. The strings are glowing, heating up, the speakers on the back of the giant walking spider thumping - the very air shuddering between them, as beautiful as it is terrible. At the top of her chord, at the climax, the broken creature releases her fret to draw a claw along her own wrist. Singing softly. "Down the road, not across the street; That's the way we cut the meat." Her own blood - black ichor. It slithers down, before suddenly rising, as if gravity had briefly reversed itself. Drifting upwards, the ethereal Liquid Sorrow evaporating into the storm clouds above. Which crackle, and bulge outwards, lightning webbing towards the town that the three mighty Heroes defend. And then? .. Then it starts to rain. A slow, gentle trickle of pitch ichor, that slows as it nears the ground. The Dead Echoes, the Shades - one can see it healing deathly wounds. Balm and salve. But to the living? Each touch might as well be acid, for it burns and stings. And from the way the storm is growing, this deluge is about to break into a full on storm. And that's not going to be good for ANYONE. "The waters are rising; Can you feel it?" She whispers, mad giggles. "Go - go and -hurt- them." 

:'''{{#var:928|Momoyo Kawakami (928)}} has posed:'''      Momoyo hisses, and when the horde collapses in on her again, she fearlessly throws out a fist to crack a jaw here, shatter a ribcage there. "Tch." she looks up when the weather changes... but abruptly shudders. Her clothing was beginning to hiss, and unlike most everyone else present, she came unarmored. "Damn." she mutters, wincing briefly from the corrosive rain.     "Kawakami Style: Restoration."     A violet aura surrounds her skin, preventing the wounds. She would have to do this over and over to deal with the corrosive rain on her bare skin though, so while healing through the burning with her signature technique, she brings enough ki forth to both slow down the hordes around her and announce her advance with a gout of steam which has the added benefit of obscuring her position unbeknownst to her.     "Momoyo Microwave."     Her allies couldn't get within several meters of her, but she herself radiates the kind of heat that comes just after a nuclear explosion, radiating off highways as she attempts to evaporate the rain and scorch the oncoming hordes surrounding her. Her red eyes narrow as she starts to slowly advance in range of Yari's sniper rifle, dimly recognizing Sanary's aura at this distance... and trying to process Ophelia's. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' There's no mistaking it. If Yuna's Matrix Divider gave her an inkling as to who Sanary was going to run into today, then Momoyo's shouted Kawakami Style attacks would be... Would be...      Dammit, apt comparisons aren't that easy, Eepecially when she's so ready to actually fight the source of said easily-identifiable lasers. "That's them. That's definitely them. Yuna, Momoyo, and..." Sanary squints, one shield braced in front of her while the other gets released to hover over head in preparation for that awful rain as it grows stronger and stronger. "I don't recognize the third one's lasers. But we might as well make 'em feel a little more welcome, right?"      The healer grins for a moment, then glances over at Yari and Ophelia with a more deadpan expression. "... By shooting at them, I mean. Not... You know. Actually welcoming them."      It doesn't hurt to be clear! And with that, the healer channels energy into her magitech eye, the Fire matrix inside it activating before firing a thin red laser that sweeps upwards at the three fighting off the shades! It's not aimed particularly well, though, and it doesn't even seem as if it'd come anywhere close to hitting anyone even if they stayed perfectly still. Really, there's almost no chance that Sanary's going to hit anyone with that laser directly what with literally firing a bright freaking laser out of her only working eye.      The explosions, though. The explosions might actually come somewhat close! 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' Shudder. Watching Ophelia cut herself to strike is never not unsettling, and Yari quickly looks away. Their enemies are making headway. Rain falls, her kimono now thoroughly soaked. She flicks out an umbrella helpfully to make sure /she/ doesn't get that rain of acidic blood on her. "They'll be pushed back at this rate." She mutters, before finally taking proper aim. Momoyo is quite literally burning with heat. No, she doesn't want to get anywhere near that. "Time to say hello." That's when Yari starts firing with quick, working the bolt with every shot. It's a decent calibre, but she knows just how tough and strong Momoyo is. Accurate shots, all aimed for the legs and chest. Mostly trying to drive her back with volume of shot rather than actually killing intent. 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' "Kyaa!!" yelps Yuna as it starts raining something way too close to 'acid' for even a hint of comfort. The Light Suit's defensive aura keeps it from burning Yuna herself, but there's a flicker of light with every 'raindrop' that pings off of her armor - and even what looks like exposed skin (currently, that only amounts to her face) is protected by the same aura. If this keeps up, it's going to be *really* bad. Also, EXPLODING LASER which sends Yuna racing back to the edge of the village. Holding the perimeter against the Shades is more important - Well, that's not really true, is it? But Momoyo is wading into the front line of combat, as it were; Yuna doesn't need to push the attack herself. Not when there's something else she can try to do - and she's the only one here who can try it.. o/~    Let's set off on a big journey, to beyond the sun and wind     And surely the door will open, to a paradise not on any map While Yuna starts singing without accompaniment, Elner taps into what radios are available in the area anyway - even resorting to just transmitting the instrumental track over people's radios, if that's the only option. Yuna does have a portable karaoke rig in her 'inventory,' but she doesn't want to risk the speakers under the acid rain. o/~    The morning you were born into this world, the bells of blessing rang     People are born embracing one unique treasure The song Yuna's started singing is bright and cheerful and optimistic; it may not be the best song with which to oppose DEATH METAL, but it was one of the first songs to come to Yuna's mind, and she's singing with - literally - all her heart, putting her feelings into the lyrics. o/~    Never forget the feeling you had that day, flowing in your heart ... "Dear My Song" And then she's singing the chorus, reprising the music with which the song began ... o/~    We're in the middle of our journey, aiming for the land of the sun     To the promised place that isn't on any map     Changing a commonplace tale into a future without end,     Surely all kinds of dreams can come true, so smile 

:'''{{#var:215|Iria (215)}} has posed:''' The moment Yuna starts singing, Iria does a double-take... and then has a flashback to a few years ago when she was at a concert of Yuna's and got a bit carried away and... well, that's for another time and another place. When Yuna begins to sing her song, Iria smirks a little at that. "Fighting fire with fire, good choice Yuna!" Iria says with a chuckle, before shifting and moving to try to adjust her covering fire position so that Yuna has a bit more cover than before. "No one touches her if I can help it!" Iria yells. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It's growing stronger - the METAL. The beautiful, terrible fucking METAL. It pounds and rips and roars - it calls to DEATH, to HATE, to SORROW and PAIN and LOATHING. It calls to - a promised place? What? There is a stumble as Yuna's song goes out across radios, across every available device. The storm sagging, no longer growing as the Six Stringed Sorrow evaporates like a bad dream. Because Drowned Ophelia? She's.. PISSED. She screams, a wordless sound of hate, as wings of shadow snap out to either side of her. And she's flying UP, an eclipse silouetted against the sky as the Shades approach and burn in Momoyo's aura. As they falter against the strength of heroic MURDER LIGHTS and efforts. And the Queen of Tears tucks her wings in - And dives. DIVES like a falcon, dives like a falling angel, her voice bright and clear and murderous and rattling and HATEFUL as she lunges STRAIGHT for Yuna. Iria be damned, the Battle be damned - someone has tried to take the spotlight! That's one way to interrupt her performance - get her focused on something less important. 

:'''{{#var:928|Momoyo Kawakami (928)}} has posed:'''      Momoyo glances up at the singer who was evidently the source of the music. She almost shifts to take the free shot at her from below while it was hard to dodge... but she has to concentrate on dodging herself. The Shades were one thing. High caliber anti-personnel anti-Elite sniper bullets were another thing entirely.     No, Momoyo had a more important task in front of her and it was keeping the attention of the Feds and the spider in front of her. "Hey, Sanary!!! I'm giving you a free one-way invitation to HELL! Better get ready!!!"     There was only one attack big enough to keep the things in front of her separated from their would-be leader's fury.     "Kawakami Style: HOSHI KUDAI!!!"     There's a moment of silence as Momoyo brings her arms together, her figure swathed in black but for one glowing red eye like some kind of beast of the night herself amid the mist and hellish heat cooking flesh around her. And then, a bright flash, the likes of which only the healer could possibly withstand. With a furious roar she turns the star-shattering beam on the spider and everything in front of her, trying to damage it and stop the rampage with all her might!! The attack was simply wide, much much wider than the attack she used to cut through the crowd earlier, as she would be visibly short of breath for a brief moment afterward. 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' "Sanary!" Warns Yari as Momoyo winds up. She doesn't /quite/ know what that demon of a woman has planned, but she knows enough to get out of dodge. And it proves quite a good idea as suddenly a burning hell-beam erupts towards their spidery perch. When the smoke clears? Yari's missing half of her kimono, and is generally smouldering and smelling like cooked lizard. She lands, rolling backwards before sighing. But she's alive. Her gun's toast. She pulls out a pair of pistols. Her immediate target are any Shades that look like they're trying to devour /her/! Her secondary target is a hail of bullets for Yuna. The same Yuna that Ophelia's charging for. She's not particularly worried if there's a bit of friendly fire here. It's probably a little deliberate too, as much as she tries to make it look accidental. "Don't get in my firing lane!" Complains Yari, just to make it look like Ophelia's fault. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Sanary draws in a slow, hissing breath as the heat from Momoyo's aura starts to come through, forcing the healer to actually back off of that massive spider despite her flame-resistant armor. Fun fact: Fire-resistant armor doesn't help so much when the heat is on the inside! And... However the hell it is microwaves work with all that vibration and science mumbo-jumbo.      To be fair, Sanary /is/ from a much simpler place. She narrows her eye just a bit when Ophelia goes flying off as well, apparently enraged by Yuna's... Singing? It's not /that/ bad, is it? Catchy, even. Alas, the healer can't quite take her time to listen as her attention is instead drawn by that shout from the martial artist, and she even braces her shield in preparation.      "Bring it on, Momoyo! I still owe you one for next time, so let's see how big you can make it!" She shouts back in retort, cycling her magic through her body and even into the shields as she just stacks them right over each other to prepare herself for the worst. Between that and the power of the armor itself augmenting her defenses, surely she'll survive tanking even this vicious attack!      Surprisingly enough, Sanary actually does! Putting a bit of energy into her anklets to handle the floating, the healer pushes forward as the blast slams into her shields. Even with all of her defenses in place, however the healer can still feel herself getting shoved further and further back! The shields hold steady even as the heat tears directly into her, threatening to outstrip the healing magic coursing through her and mending the melting EVERYTHING inside.      It goes on for what feels like an eternity, but eventually... "... H... Hah! Not bad, but is that... Is that all you got, Momoyo?! ... Momoyo?" Peeking out from behind her shields, Sanary notices that the landscape is a little... Different from before. Where'd all this forest come from? And where'd everyone else go? There's not even that giant spider in sight anymore! 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' So, Yuna thinks in the back of her mind, the good news is that she just interrupted the heck out of the song which was stirring up the Shades and making so much trouble generally. The corrosive rain hasn't stopped (yet) but the storm is no longer intensifying; with a healthy dollop of luck, it'll fade entirely now that the evil, black-magic-or-worse song has been interrupted. The bad news, of course, is that the enemy singer is gunning for Yuna personally and is probably going to rip her throat out if the chance presents itself. o/~    It can't be seen, but there's always a treasure deep within the heart That's NOT going to stop Yuna from singing, though. She trusts Iria to protect her as well as the bounty hunter can, and if the enemy singer forces her way through Iria's cover fire, Yuna still has Powered Form's armor and her kite shield and the Matrix Divider to protect herself with. o/~    Never forget the feeling you had that day, spreading wide in your heart ... "Dear My Place" Speaking of Shugoseiheki, the Wall of the Guardian Star is still strapped to Powered Form's left exo-arm - and the sound of gunfire from Yari's general direction prompts Yuna to pull the kite shield into position, protecting herself as best she can against the inbound bullets. Blocking is about all Yuna can do right now; the song takes JUST enough attention that she can't start dodging. Shugoseiheki might do her some favors if Iria can't force Ophelia to break off, but that's about it ... o/~    The bell of hope resounds; open the door of destiny     And surely we can make it to the final paradise     On days when sorrowful rain continues to fall, we can keep swimming     Always, deep in your heart, you believed in yourself 

:'''{{#var:215|Iria (215)}} has posed:''' Iria is going to protect Yuna at any means necessary. Even if that means literally placing herself in the line of fire. Ejecting the near-empty clip from her rifle, she loads a full one and switches to fully automatic fire. "No one will hurt my friends! NO ONE!" She yells as she opens fire at any hostiles coming in Yuna's general direction. "We will triumph!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It's the fucking -song-. It's ruining the atmosphere! Drowned Ophelia falls - only to be intercepted by IRIA'S BULLET TIME. The high velocity slugs tumble into - and through - the monstrous woman, splattering her ichor upon the ground behind her as she lands. But where one would expect blood and weakness, this creature... this mockery of a woman... straightens once again. Black lips pulled down into a growl as she flexes her claws. ".. That'll never hurt me as much as I do myself." Pretentious bitch. The Black Tears begin to rise once more, a miasma, flickering between liquid and gas at will, the ectoplasm glittering as it sharpens. Preparing to launch at Iria - preparing to tear and rip and gouge. Suicide shards. Which is when MOMOYO makes BIG FUCKING EXPLOSION NOISES. Drowned Ophelia left her stage undefended. There is a clanging of mournful bells from the giant mechanical spider as it is enveloped, the stage crashing in on itself - and the METAL staggers to a halt. Cuts off like someone yanked the hand. The storm above ripples, already beginning to fade, along with the slow trickle of acidic rain. "What?" Ophelia looks over her shoulder, just as the spider begins to sag. And then begins collapsing faster and faster, the Shades disrupted not only by the sudden lack of impedus but by the poisoning of the very mana around them. ".. NO.. NO! GODDAMMIT NO!" She hisses, spinning back around to Iria and Yuna. A low, almost animal growl slips from her throat - before wings snap out, and she's up in the air again. This time cruising low across the crowd, one arm dangling. OH Yari~ Ride's here. 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' Yari gets the order, and sees Ophelia sadly in one piece, mostly. She does the smart thing as Iria floods the area with fire. The ninja takes one to the tail, and another to her side. She urks at the glancing shots, only to leap into the air. A dozen smoke bombs are dropped, and suddenly the area is a miasma of pure white cloying smoke! Ride indeed. Yari tries to grab that dangling arm to hodl onto. All of her weight on it. Yari is a /jerk/! 

:'''{{#var:385|Yuna Kagurazaka (385)}} has posed:''' If Yuna had gotten a good look at what Iria was doing to Ophelia, it would probably interrupt her song right then and there. While Yuna fights when she needs to, she doesn't like to inflict pain on anyone, or to see ANYBODY suffering, be they friend or enemy or hapless bystander. She pulls out all the stops against drones and undead without issue, but against somebody who can think and (more importantly) feel, she holds back whenever she can. So seeing an enemy - even one who personally wanted to kill her painfully - shot full of holes ... not a good thing. Even without seeing it, Yuna can kind of figure out how badly Ophelia got hurt, especially when the sound of the spider-stage getting blown up sends the flying singer fleeing with an arm dangling like that. But ... well, as badly as Ophelia is hurt? The fight is over. o/~    Somewhere beyond the rainbow, is the sound of tomorrow being born ... The song isn't, but at this point, Yuna's finishing it more because it's a song she likes - and maybe she's hoping that finishing the lyrics will act as a sort of spiritual (but not magical) ointment for the damage wrought by Ophelia's death metal. It's also a chance for her to wind down mentally while Elner does one more sensor sweep to make sure things are more or less secure. Two more choruses, and the song is done. 

:'''{{#var:215|Iria (215)}} has posed:''' Sometimes, there's no other option but to use violence. Of course if Yuna had interfered, things might have gotten worse... With things taken care of for now, Iria gives a thumbs up to her allies and winks at Yuna. "We really did this for a song, didn't we?" She laughs a little before she starts to head back towards a nearby warpgate. "Once I get back, I'm taking a nice hot shower! I don't care what Fujikurow has to say, I need to clean up first!" 
}}

4548/At The Edge Of Grief

2016-09-29T13:13:37Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/14 |Location=Crystal Valley |Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia hurts herself to draw out her miserable inspirations. Inga shows up, and others follo..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/14
|Location=Crystal Valley
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia hurts herself to draw out her miserable inspirations. Inga shows up, and others follow. Keep your mercy to yourself!
|Cast of Characters=975, 525, 930, 206
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Crystal Valley - a place of serenity and beauty, light fractured and bounced back and forth from one glittering prism to another until the whole place appears to have a strange internal glow. And in its midst, the Crystal Lake, pure and clean and wholesome; So smooth that one can almost miss the division between land and water, its vision a refuge to travelers and pilgrims alike. And the crystal valley.. IS UNDER ATTACK! WAIT, no it's not. A broken creature sits at the edge of the water, her very presence poisoning the crystals upon which she perches. But as fast as the pitch ichor that comprises her form leaks into the crystals - that quickly does it disperse, the magic here able to hold back the sway of Sorrow. But her focus isn't even on this, however, for she is surrounded - by herself. Well, reflections of something like her. A small, brown haired young woman; Torn jeans, black shirt with the falling raven emblem. But on her, it almost seems innocent, as opposed to the corrupted terror of Drowned Ophelia's use. The reflections seem somehow sad and angry, staring down at the broken creature weeping at the edge of the pool. Black Tears falling from her cheeks, splattering upon the crystal shores and dripping into the waters. The Queen of Tears - sobs. THEMESONG: Draconian - It Grieves My Heart - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RcIVD1hwO4 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Why is Inga here? She's never been to this place before. She doesn't even know how to get to this place. Something had lead her perhaps, for Inga does not really believe in coincidences. For the god-touched, there are rarely coincidences, only a sometimes-subtle (often not) hand moving the pieces. You can fight it, there are many paths...but sometimes, all the paths lead to the same place. Inga knows when not to fight. Sometimes she watches the wyrd. Sometimes it plays out before her like a film. Others, it sweeps her along with the tide. And sometimes she walks. Wanders off. She'd been at home in Dun Realtai, sitting in her cottage, working the loom, eyes far off as she watched the threads of wyrd being woven. Then she'd stopped, and without a word took up her staff, got her horse, and wandered. Which is what brought her here, to the scene of Ophelia surrounded by her myriad reflections. Inga slides from the saddle a bit awkwardly, her gentle grey horse shying away from Ophelia and the aura she casts. Inga pats the neck of the creature gently. "I'll find you. Go on," she says, and lets Jodis wander away to a more comfortable distance away from Ophelia. Inga takes her staff and approaches. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The Crystal valley, also is the place of residence of a certain digimon, at the very least until certain... issues are taken care of!. At the moment, he was just tending to his meat plants, and talking with a visitor, a small (child sized) somewhat chubby dark grey bear wearing a baseball cap with the word 'bears' printed on it and several straps, both near his 'hands' and one across his chest and belly. The pair were just relaxing, when suddenly, the small bear perks its ears and sniffs around, "Something smells weird." he says, before Alden adds, "Yeah, seems to come from the lake.".      The pair make their way, which... honestly was not that far, only to stumble with the small 'crowd'. The bear digimon has no clue who the person is, but Alden clearly does, letting out a deep growl. Since Ophelia does not seem to be attacking, Alden decides not to engage, "Let's get closer... be very careful." he tells his friend, before the two move closer. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     For the record... Harry is still getting used to the horse. It's not that he doesn't like horses it's just... they make him nervous. Much like a demon, they were wily, and big, and didn't brook dissent all that well. But Inga wanted a walk through the Mists and to follow the Wyrd and Harry... well. He needed to get out of the damn basement.     A murmur under his breath at Inga, as he too grips at his own staff. Ophelia. Well, at least he'll have a face to go with the woman he's heard about. A tenseness in the air, too, as he approaches alongside his Partner. "Sure we have to do this?" A murmur, though low and grumbly. "I'm here for you if you need me, but..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It's the reflections that turn first; Each turning curious brown eyes towards Inga and Harry, a soft frown touching pale lips - each looking from a different direction, trapped in the prisms. Something more than a reflection, perhaps? And then the broken creature herself turns; The same woman, perhaps, but changed. Pale blue skin of asphyxiation, her form covered in the strange ectoplasm of the Black Tears like a dress. Where once there was a quiet strength, there is burning madness; A woman hollowed by Sorrow's touch. Black lips part in a literal snarl, her fingers elongated into ebon claws by the Black Tears' touch. The smear of pitch leaking down her cheeks is fresh; Fresh and thick, as the poisonous liquid leaks from her bright eyes. "What the FUCK do you want?!" She hisses at Inga, that rage - that hate - focused between Harry, the Wyrd Seeker, and the Digimon. And then it crumples, brittle facade broken as her clawed hands press against the crystal ground. Curl, scoring the small crystals, ruining them for use; Nothing cuts as deep as Sorrow, after all. It can cut you to the very heart. Chin drops, the black ichor dripping upon the prism - staining their surface. But that burden is shared from one to another, the poison of grief spread among the crystal community until it evaporates into nothing. The Brutal Lands always were about making the metaphorical into a literal truth, and the Black Tears even more so. A deep, shuddering breath, before Drowned Ophelia turns her attention back to the still and cold waters, her back exposed. Her clawed hand reaching up to press against the largest prism nearby, where her reflection jerks back - like one would from a plague victim. The others are looking towards the new arrivals, silent in their judgement. ".. I'll murder you all. I'll drown everything you love." Whispers the creature, a broken giggle failing to take hold as sobs once again wrack her frame. It's not clear who she's talking too. Like a soothing lullaby, she whispers threats and promises of hate filled assassinations. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga stops her approach, a frown creasing her brow as Ophelia turns, spitting venom. As expected. She'd /really/ pissed her off last they'd met. Inga seems to have that effect on some. She knew she could put Ophelia on edge. She'd hoped to destabilize her, get her thinking, perhaps pull her out of the black. Obviously, that hadn't worked. Not yet. She hadn't given up. Witches are stubborn creatures. Inga looks to Harry, placing a hand on his arm. She nods to him. Yes, she has to do this. And they are not alone. Inga looks back, toward where Alden and his friend are approaching. She winces. This is a delicate situation, one that could go south quickly. Inga looks back to Ophelia. "You brought me here," she says. "I felt your misery from accross the multiverse." Inga watches as she turns away, threatening still. Inga watches the wyrd stretch before her...she could kill her. Right now, while she is turned and in a vulnerable state. It might be the kindest thing to do. It might save other people pain and heartbreak. A spear of solidified blood through the heart and it could be over. That's only one possibility. Inga's grip tightens on her staff. She shakes her head, letting out a breath. She watches the crystals disperse the poison Ophelia drips, obvserving with interest. This is a good place to speak with her. A powerful place. "We could help you, Ophelia. You do not need to feel like this. You do not need to spread this curse. You could be free of it," Inga says softly, but loud enough for Ophelia to hear between sobs. She looks back again, giving Alden a warning look. She hopes she has communicated in that glance that Ophelia is dangerous. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden is the first one to notice the other people nearby, while the small bear takes a step closer, ears flickering as it tries to make sense of the... woman?, the reflection?, "Who is she?, she seems... wrong somehow... sick?" he murrmurrs taking a step cloesr, before Alden lashes around and catches him, "Don't get closer... she is very dangerous" he murrmurrs. He offers Inga a nod, he is familiar with the Drowned queen, and has at least a faint idea of what she can do, heck, he had to fight a friend of his that was afflicted by her powers. He seems a bit doubtful when Inga begins to talk, but he makes no motion to stop her, instead pulling the curious bear digimon around, the pair approaching Harry. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     Another growl from Harry. He could in fact see it now. The touch of Filth. Of darkness. The Thoughts That Bind. He sniffs faintly, and tightens his grip on his staff. The words of the witch are... hopeful. Filled with hope. Offering mercy.     She's got the lead right now though, and simply stands there, looking like the big dumb brute enforcer that he knows how to play so well. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The claw pressed against the prism flexes; The crystal cracks, the reflection distorting; Broken images of pale blue skin and bright white teeth, a predator's smile. But rather than pleased by this, Ophelia lets her hand drop once more, before wrapping her arms around the back of her own head. Rocking slowly. The sobs slow; A broken, slow giggle leaks out of her as her head drops. "Felt my grief, that far away? .." She finally turns, standing at last - and stumbles. Leaning against a second upthrust crystal, even as her reflection there looks on in fear, backing away from the contact. The others look away, saddened by the loss of one of their own. It was a powerful place; Here, it appear, the Queen of Tears was weakened. Or was she strengthened? Weakness and strength, vunlerability and power, these lines blurred where the liquid Sorrow corrupted. "What sorrow do you hide in your heart, then? What in you can feel my misery?" The giggle fades into a frown as she leans against the pillar for support. But her -essence- - somehow, that seems stronger as she weakens, forced to contend with the purity of this place. The miasma of the Black Tears drifting like a mist above her feet, curling and returning in on itself. "Can you become an innocent child again, you fucking moron? Would you want that ignorance, knowing now what you do?" And then her eyes flick to Alden and the Bear. She growls, low and deep, a death rattle in her throat that fades away as she leans her head against the pillar again. Eyes closing. A cold, brittle smile splitting black lips. "Sick, and empty, and dead. Just like you'll be~" She singsongs, eyes half opened now. Thin slits that focus on Alden. "How many gone? Do you even remember their names? Does it cross your lips, or have you forgotten your dead?" And finally to Harry, the smile flickering to a frown. Swinging wildly in her emotions today, isn't she? Pretentious black hearted bitch. ".. Are you here to kill me?" She murmurs, white teeth flashing. "Do you want me to turn my back? You can put it in the same hole -the last motherfucker did-." And now she's speaking to all three. "You can't stop -inevitability-. You can't stop -entrophy-. Your only guarantee is loss; So why the fuck do you even bother? You fucking.. " She spits the next word. ".. -Heroes-. You fucking heroes, you fucking choosen ones, you fucking.. fucks. Fuck. Making everyone believe in you." Chin drops once again. The pitter patter of tears once more dripping to the ground. 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga stands still and calm in the onslaught, her eyes sad. "Everyone knows sorrow Ophelia. It is a powerful thing. It is right to feel. But you have taken it too far. Now it IS you," Inga replies. She laughs, shaking her head. "An innocent child? When was that? For I do not recall. When I was five I fortold the burning of a hall, the people screaming, slain as they tried to flee the flames. All over a petty grudge. Over vengeance taken to far. I saw it all and wept, not understanding how anyone could be so cruel. That does not mean I want everyone to see what I have seen. You could take this pain and it could make you strong--what you are now...you are sick. Infected. You make this mistake of thinking the infection is all you are." Inga takes a couple of steps closer. If Ophelia attacks her again, well, she is not alone. And she'll be back. The inevitability of loss. It gives Inga some pause. It is a sore spot for her. It is a sore spot for most, of course. But it is something Inga has put a lot of thought into when she was not consciously trying not to. "Yes, loss is inevitable. That is life. That does not give you permission to sink the whole damn ship. You don't get to make that decision. You could have more than this..you could BE more than this. Gods...don't let one man undo you," Inga pleads. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     Harry just lets the hatred wash past him, and murmurs. "Don't like killin' anyone, Miss Ophelia. Doesn't mean I don't do it, but." He grumbles and taps his staff against the ground. The steel shod on the end clanks... and that noise is picked up by a mass of the nearby crystals. There's a resoannce of his own, as he steps forward, and sublty angles himself between Inga and the Drowned one.     The facets of the surrounds start to emenant his own reflections. A Harry, consumed in full Warlock-dom, terrible and vile, covered in ash and blood. A harry, carrying a Silver Sword of the Wardens. Harry Dresden... utterly the same as the Harry now, but... changed, and if Ophelia is watching, there's a touch of the Black Tears inside of that one as well.     The resonanting stops, and comes to a clarion crystal *ping*, as Dresden looks at Ophelia. "What's it gonna be?" 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The gabumon narrows his eyes, growling softly as he moves closer to Harry, "I..." he mumbles, while the Bear reaches to pat Alden's shoulder. Finally, the Gabumon nods, "I do... I remember them... It was me or them, they tried to hurt my Tamer... hurt Daichi. I absorbed their data to be stronger... I did not enjoy those fights, do not enjoy destroying others." he replies, but one has to wonder if he was answering her, or telling that to himself. "I won't forget them, for better or worse, they are part of me now, it's thanks to them I am even standing here now, rather than just erased by the D-Reaper.". The Bear just nods, growling to the clearly dangerous and... crazed, sick woman, but has no real comment. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Rather than press forward - the blackened creature pulls -back- from Inga's proferred relief from misery. The tendrils that compose her dress shifting and thrashing along the hems. "-One man-? One -man-? One family. One people. One fucking -world-. You think he was the first?" She hisses, voice dropping like an adder in the grass. "He was only the -deepest-. I never asked for permission; I don't need it. I -will- drown your fucking ships. Why should you.." Her eyes flick to the others. "Why should -any one of you fuckers- be happy and loved and alive? I'm doing you a fucking service." A flicker of motion - the Queen of Tears shifting forward, quick as a breeze, arms spread wide as she - ... hugs Inga? NO, it's not a hug, though her arms are about the other woman. Chin burrowed in the Healer's shoulder as she whispers poisoned words. "I can take it away." Twisting Inga's words about, claws pressed to the woman's back to hold her close. Ophelia's breath cold and empty as the corrupted thing herself. "The weight of a world you never asked for. The obligation of strangers. You don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt - you don't have to hold yourself higher. Release yourself.. and I'll show you how to float away.." Her eyes flicker to Harry as the Wizard's reflections show what he truly is. Ophelia's own fading away, leaving nothing but the dark woman herself. Save for one, right behind her; The same browned haired young woman. Eyes closed, hair drifting about her - in darkness. Mouth opened in a frozen scream of panic, face twitching as if caught in a nightmare. The Queen of Tears does not see it, of course, but she's staring right at Harry. "It will -be- ash. Ash and pain and death, until there is silence. Until the sweet, bitter sound of Sorrow can be heard throughout a dark and empty multiverse. Until no voice is raised in joy, and no breath stirrs in warmth. Death Metal will take this fucking place from you.." And too Alden, the frown growing to a brittle smirk. "Cannibals. Cannibals and black souled hypocrites. You eat your own to grow stronger and call it 'morality' - call it duty. You didn't have to do that - you still don't. Let me show you how strong you can be; What power lays in your broken hearts, little monsters.." 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     Well, Ophelia /tries/ to hug his partner. That duster swirls around him in a puff of breeze as he interposes himself and takes that spot, eyes cold and challenging. He towers over the Shell, and murmurs. "As I said. Don't like killing ,but for some reason I don't trust you around my Partner. Call it... Past differences." 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga is generally good at keeping a poker face, but when Harry positions himself to defend her there is a flash of obvious worry. Of love. She quickly goes back on her guard, fearing that Ophelia would try to exploit that knowledge if she knew. Inga looks to all the reflection in the crystal, the only reaction a quick intake of breath through her nose. It isn't anything she hasn't seen before, but it strange to see such possibilities reflecting for the eyes of others. She knows what others will see if she steps forward as well. Inga looks back toward Alden, taking in Ophelia's words and Alden's response. She knows relatively little about the creature, other than he seemed sweet and grew meat plants...of course there is more to him. There's sorrow in everyone. "Do not let her in. I have seen it happen. The black water can infect you too," she warns quietly, not wanting to see him get hurt. She'd probably be the one having to purge it if it did. And Harry better not get infected. She's already been there, done that! Inga looks back to Ophelia. She knew it wouldn't be easy. Ophelia was too far gone. Then Ophelia springs forward, as if to embrace her? Or attack her. Harry moves first. Inga's eyes narrow, Ophelia's words still carrying. "You can't release me. No one can. None but the gods," she replies, a quiet, smoldering anger building. She's in range of the crystals now, her own reflections surfacing. And every one of them is the same. Inga sits alone in a candle lit room, runes drawn all along the walls and covering the floor. A circle drawn around her seated form, a long white dress hiding her legs. Glowing chains are attached to her arms, manacled at the wrist. Her eyes are dark pool, the iris invisible, the mind far away--never in one place long, lips whispering prophecies. The wyrd, past and future, consuming. Inga doesn't look. She'd seen the reflection of Ophelia, the real Ophelia, as she once was. She's still there. Inga finds the thread that is still Ophelia before the black water and PULLS. "You've always struggled, Ophelia. But you are good. You /did/ good. Even though they didn't trust you, you did good. You gave up. I don't blame you. But I wish you would let me show you another way. The multiverse is a big place. People who never found acceptance in their world have found it here. You are not too far gone to come back," she says, trying to pull the good in her forward. Still trying. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden growls softly, looking a bit affected by those words, "I... maybe." he begins to talk, looking down for a moment. Thankfully, Inga's words, and a firm shove from his companion seem to break whatever train of thought he was having, "Thank you Inga." he says, smiling softtly, while the bear just growls at her, before turning to Alden, "Don't listen to her, I don't know her and even I can tell she is trying to mess with your head." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Oh yes, I've seen your past differences." Cackles the Queen of Tears as Harry interposes himself; There is no fear in her from violence. It was kindness and pity she shrank from. The clawed hands coming up, curling in - an invitation. "Like a fucking angel, are you? One wing always dipped in blood. Law keeper. -Hero-. You're going to hurt everything you love, and everything you love is going to hurt you - and then it'll be over. And what will you have accomplished, with all that strength?" She points a clawed finger towards one prism, where Harry stands in full regalia, powerful and ashen-hearted. "-Nothing-. Not a fucking thing. Every build you save will fall. Every person alive will die. Every love shared will be lost, and that'll be another thorn in your -fucking- soul, won't it? Because you -will- fail. You'll always fail, eventually. I want you to remember this, -hero-.." She spits, tears leaking pitch along her cheeks as she stares up at Harry. "No matter how fast, you're going to fail in time. Once. Then twice. Then over and over; And when your heart breaks, I won't even say 'I told you so'." White eyes flick back to Inga, and for a moment she pauses. Sucks in a breath, and hisses; An animal noise. "-Ffffffuck you-. I -am- my own fucking acceptance. It is your -heart- thats going to kill you; Not your bullets or your knives, not your spells or your fires. It's love that murders, happiness that smothers, joy that burns when it leaves. It's watching and knowing everything you have -will be gone-." She pauses, then, and suddenly smirks. Drawing herself up as she looks towards Inga's own reflection. "Your Gods did this to you..? .. The Dead Gods can undue it. Fucking -unshackle- yourself; Come with me. Come to the Sea of Black Tears. Aren't you fucking tired of living -every fucking life-, of trying to watch every fucking road at once? There's freedom in my misery. There's solace in my sorrow. Wash your grief in my waters, and see how the future dies away. You won't be .. -this- .. anymore. A slave to someone else's fucking fate." And finally, to Alden. A tinkle of cold, broken giggles. "Tell me I'm wrong, then. Tell me I'm lying. You saw Golden; Death Metalmon. You've seen just how strong you can become - no more swallowing the death of your brothers. Everything you need is in that fucking cage in your soul; All you have to do is break the fucker open and let it out." 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Mentioning Golden made Alden growl loudly, pushing the bear aside, "I saw what you did with him, and I know all you did was turn him into a toy, a puppet." he says softly, "I know the kind of power you can offer, and I don't care about it, I will become stronger on my own." 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     Harry... just sniffs. "You haven't said a thing to me yet that I don't already know." Thorns in your soul kinda stings though. That's a new one. "But you have to have a heart to break it, Ophelia. And there isn't much left there, to be honest. And I already came to the brink on that one. I looked... I was tempted... and I stepped back. Was brought back." Those cold eyes betray nothing now, and... He's looking right at her, right into those eyes. Souless eyes? Or maybe she's just too much of a monster now for Harry to see what's left of her.     But still, he keeps a watchful eye on Inga as the Drowned One turns to her... 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Ophelia knows how to cut deep. She knows how to spread her sorrow. She knows just the right things to say. When she's wagging her black tongue at Harry, Inga briefly entertains the thought of lightning her on fire. Inga dimisses this thought however, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. This is taking a toll on her, but she won't let it show if she can help it. She knows. She Sees in a way Ophelia cannot. "Time..." she begins, shaking her head. "You have it all wrong Ophelia. Time isn't what you think it is. It isn't one thing and then another and another until it ends. You have it wrong. You are not just you, right now. The person you were is still the person you ARE. You are still a girl, in love with Eddie, right now--somewhere else. Everything you did, everything you were is still happening, but you can't see it," she says, her eyes taking on that recognizable look, just like in her reflections. "Your heart is broken, but there are times--places where it is not. You can make that your reality again." Inga closes her eyes, swallowing hard. Ophelia has seen something of Inga and she'll use it. Of course she will. "It doesn't matter. I am living my life, doing as I should. I put the chains on myself. I chose, even as I was chosen. That is the only difference between us Ophelia. You could choose, but instead you let it control you. Because it was easier. You're a slave, too," she replies. Inga looks to Harry. She shakes her head. She seems to know what's on his mind. She moves closer to him, unspoken support. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Metal Deathmon was no fucker's toy; You saw what he could do." Begins the creature, laughing now; Mad, broken laughter that only hardens when Alden mentions growing stronger on his own. "Oh yes! Murder more and more of your brothers; Swallow them down your gullet, steal them, and call yourself heroic. Never think once of who they left behind; You have friends, family, -owners- - they once did as well. Happiness and fears, memories and love, all swallowed down your fucking guts." "For more -power-." White teeth flash behind black lips, before Ophelia turns her gaze towards Harry; And in her eyes? ... Madness. Sorrow. Grief and hate and self loathing twisted about until everything else is crushed between these mighty pillars. But there's something missing from this creature; This -shell-. Something vital, left down in the dark. "You're still trying, aren't you? Look at you.. the both of you." Her eyes flick between Igna and Harry, that smile growing wider. "How much will it hurt - when she's dead? Has she seen -your- death already? No, I was wrong; You aren't a hero - you're just as fucking pathetic as every other creature that draws warm breath. You've just got the balls to pretend otherwise." And finally, for Igna. Ophelia draws a breath to retort - and pauses. Jerks backwards, eyes wide - hateful. It starts low - low in the gut. It wrenches upwards, tearing its way thorugh her esophagus, a death rattle scream, muscles on her neck standing out in pure contrast to her pale blue flesh. Claws curled into fists. DEATH METAL hammers into being, the very air vibrating as her misery calls to her. The song of Betrayal. "NO! YOU DON'T GET TO SAY THAT NAME! NEVER SAY THAT FUCKING NAME!" She shrieks! Before, this lead to - well - Igna's apparent death. This time, however, the claws rip into her own face, sliding upwards into her hair line, leaving faint lines that bleed ichor. Wings snap out to either side as she slams upwards with a blow of air, shrieking like a forlorn banshee. Is it hate? Sorrow? Some mad mix between the two? It's hard to say - but the danger is past. FOR NOW. FINAL THEMESONG: 'Betrayal' - Lita Ford -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_E0e_Q4i7Gs 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' The name always breaks her. Inga knew, in using it, it would provoke a strong reaction. But she has to keep pulling that trigger. Its the key, she's sure. There's nothing else for her to say. Ophelia goes, leaving her brutal music behind her. But it will fade. The crystals will help to disperse it, won't they? Inga lets out a breath, shuddering. She leans against Harry, looking between him and Alden. "Are...you two alright?" she asks. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden seems torn between anger and sadness, both of which are spurred further the more that witch talks. He opens his mouth to try to talk, but seems to decide against it. He just watches the Drowned queen march away, the only thing stopping him from trying to run and punch her is the other digimon holding him down. Eventually he just sighs, and looks back at Inga, "She is awful..." he mumbles softly. 

:'''{{#var:206|Harry Dresden (206)}} has posed:'''     Harry... just sighs a bit, watchign the woman fly away, on wings of sorrow. "...I need a drink, we're getting too literally metaphysical around here." 

:'''{{#var:525|Inga (525)}} has posed:''' Inga sigh heavily, nodding to Alden. "She is lost--but not unrecoverable," she says. Inga nods to Harry. "Agreed. I haven't been to Mac's lately. You're welcome to join is Alden," she offers. The Seer looks exhausted. She probably hasn't slept in days. Woops. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden smiles to Inga, "Well, I don't really drink much, but I figure it can't hurt, mind if Bearmon comes with us?." he asks. The Bear seems still a bit stunned at the whole encounter, "That person really freaked me out..." it mumbles. 
}}

4529/The Apostasy Canticle

2016-09-29T13:12:27Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/09 |Location=The Citadel - Medical |Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia visits the medical ward to get Flesh Doll stitched back together. Bad Touch! |..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/09
|Location=The Citadel - Medical
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia visits the medical ward to get Flesh Doll stitched back together. Bad Touch!
|Cast of Characters=975, 22, 7
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It begins with a flicker of lights; Electricity humming in the wires as a cold mist drifts into the infinite wards from the massive Dark Hold; Double doors swing open, and there stands DROWNED OPHELIA. The Death Metal Queen does -not- look so good; Ripped and torn and battered, the ectoplasmic ichor that permeates her being dripping and splattering to the ground as she walks with slow, pendulous sways; Inevitably, the strange, semi-sentient liquid evaporates once more, something between liquid and smoke, to remain with the damaged Avatar. The creature's chin down, bright eyes seen occasionally through the dark banes of her loose hair. But it's what is in her arms that's the focus; Kotone? No, something that LOOKS like Kotone. Stitched together flesh like something out of Mary Shelly novel. But the resemblance is -uncanny-, even if this one's meat rather than cybernetic materials of the real deal. The ichor that drips from her is pitch as well; But it does not evaporate. The Queen of Tears straightens, her clawed hands curling as she speaks to the nearest nurse, black lips pulled into a tight line. ".. Fetch you flesh knitters, child; My toy is damaged." 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     As always medical is busy, though there's always some young nurses and aides who are there and ready to assist walk ins. Upon Ophelia's rather dramatic entrance two beds are produced, one for Ophelia herself and one for her flesh puppet. As always there is some brief communication to figure out which ward the patients will go to. Soon it's sorted out however, and the aides quickly wheel the two beds to their designated wards, all while they make sure to take vitals of the two bodies on their way and insert IV lines.     As a result there's a room ready, various IV stands and trays prepped and ready as the beds are wheeled in. Quickly the nurses work on the basic things, like starting some clear IV drips at a quick pace as per instructed. While they work however, another figure enters the room.     A figure that Ophelia should recognise from an earlier incident. A woman who walks in as if she owns this place, an air of danger around her as she heads towards the disinfection station by the door to wipe alcohol over her hands. "Get lot 36 c and lot 41, two 5 ml of each." "Yes, miss Gorgon!" One of the aides is quick to leave the room and head off to fetch the necessary medication, all while the snake witch finally peers down at Ophelia, then at the shell resembling Kotone on the bed. "Well, well... what caused these injuries~?" she asks, her sweet tone almost sounding too sincere to be real. The soft smile crossing her face might also appear to be out of place as she picks up the papers that the aides filled out, looking over the numbers there... now what kind of injuries are there, and what's the situation? 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll is having bad time she got not just tentaled but assaulted with thorn infested one it was painful even for a thing like her. She pauses at the mention of being a toy. "Hey now...the toys are those who ignore what they are do you see me denying what I am?" She's a bit huffy and in a good dela of pain. She pauses to see Miss Gorgon one of the most infamous Confederates still active in the sector and tilts her head. "...Some pink lady didn't like our music and she turned into a tentacle horror with thorns....I took the brunt of it." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears allows herself onto the medical bed, closing eyes and relaxing backwards; Of course, as soon as the needle peirces her cold blue flesh, a faint, bitter smile crosses black lips. Rather than saline going -in- - something else is coming out. Threads of ink, thin as the edge of a dream, curling up along the plastic lines and towards the back-stop - full IV stoppage as the liquid is corrupted. Sorrow and grief twist everything they touch, after all. The wounds are terrible tears; Whole layers of skin torn away, the wounds refusing to mend or slow. But there's also no vital signs beyond the slow, heavy beat of a stone heart - no breath trembles past Ophelia's black lips, her cadaver at a nice room temperature. Wounds like hers would be fatal, crippling on a normal human - they'd bleed out within the hour. It's really, really hard to tell how much the Drowned Ophelia is truly injured in her current state, however. A living metaphor. It -looks- bad, however. Her eyes flicker back open at Medusa's voice, that brittle smile crossing her lips again. "First leg of the Season of Pain 2; It was a fucking great day to die." Broken giggles, as she looks over at Flesh Doll. "No - you're exactly as I've made you." Her gaze flicks between Medusa and 'Kotone' as she speaks. "I've stolen the heart and knit the flesh with my own hair, and bathed her in the Sea - but even I can't tell you what comes next. Be a fucking shame if Flesh Doll stopped before she could ... reclaim her life from the fucking imposter." There's something in the way Ophelia says that, something almost -hungry-. Before she looks back to Medusa. ".. All I need is the Sea of Black Tears; To feel the power of the Dead Gods once more. Failing that - hold my head under?" 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     The reaction of the IV line makes the aides and nurses blink, though they eventually have to give up. And one of them whispers this to Medusa, leaning close with a worried look on her face. The witch herself looks rather calm, still smiling even as she looks down at the clotted IV line. "Just remove it, I will deal with this." In her own way. It's clear that conventional medicine won't work on Ophelia.     As for the flesh doll... something that Ophelia made, is it? How quaint. "Stolen the heart? Not literally, I assume...?" Medusa asks, even as the aide works on removing the IV line that she had given Ophelia just minutes ago. And then the head nurse begins examining the two, beginning with Ophelia as she puts on medical gloves. She better be ready for some prodding as Medusa seems rather curious about her abdomen, pressing down on various places to ask whether this or that hurts. The fleshpuppet will have to put up with the same treatment, as Medusa is rather curious about just what is what, eager to check if all the internal organs are there or not.     Finally however the blonde woman seems content with her initial checkup, and she sighs. "Now this is quite a mess. But not impossible," Medusa assures Ophelia sweetly, pulling off her bloodied gloves before she goes to disinfect her hands again. "It's easy enough to stitch up this... toy," she says while she glances over to the flesh doll. "Though I'm afraid the methods to fixing your body will be... less conventional." The tone of her voice drops slightly at the last two words, and she glances to the other aides in the room. "Get me a bottle of lot 2, lot 87 and lot 88b." They are quick to nod and head off, all while the other nurse returns with the other medicines that Medusa requested earlier. These medications are given to the flesh puppet, and she might notice an effect after a few seconds. Sure, the pain is disappearing, but there's also tiredness overcoming her. "Clean up her wounds," Medusa instructs them, pointing towards a washing bowl and some sterile compresses. "I will stitch them up later, but they need to be clean before that. Make sure the bloodpressure doesn't drop down below 90 systolic."     The other aide is quick to return with the three bottles that Medusa requested, and Medusa puts on clean gloves as she sits down next to Ophelia's bed, the other aides all working on cleaning up flesh puppet.     "It must be a bother... having a body like yours," Medusa begins, pulling up the sleeves of her medical coat and pulling a table with several trays on it towards her. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Oh no. Quite literally stole her heart. And her liver, and her spleen, and her bits and pieces from the medical waste facility~" Comes the broken giggle of the pale blue creature, as she lifts her own arm to gaze along it; The torn and shredded flesh where ice had ripped her to her core, combined with explosions and thundering blows. "Have you ever had a lover, Medusa?" White eyes flick up to the Doctor, black lips carrying that same empty, bitter smile. "The flesh remembers; It tingles when you hear his voice. It tightens when you feel his touch. Prickles in excitement. Heart beats and tummy turns, warm breath on rosey lips. It shivers at the touch of cold, it sweats at the carass of heat. It pales in fear or blushes in fever. The taste of food can take you back to your youth, the sting of blood, the burn of lungs straining for air. Everyone forgets just how much the body knows - how much is lost when you throw it away like trash... Isn't that right, Kotone?" Pale eyes flicker back to the sewn together monster in the form of lithe Kotone's evil clone, before Ophelia submits to the proding of her abdomen; Of course, the questions of pain bring that same broken giggle to her lips as the pale blue woman presses a clawed finger against her own breast, carving a small 'x' - black ichor trickling down from the new wound - to match the slow trickle of black tears down her cheeks. A strange juxtaposition to the 'mock cheerfulness' of her singsong voice. "It hurts here, Doc; It always hurts here. Every single beat." She seems amicable about the proding itself - almost amused. It won't last, of course, for Drowned Ophelia is a creature of misery and will inevitably swing from masochistic amusement to sadistic hate. But it does give Medusa -some- information; Her abdomen isn't -hollow-. One can feel the press of bone, the firmament of ligaments. But even a casual glance into the rips of her arm and the gaping wounds in her side show she is composed entirely of that pitch ectoplasm; A memory of a body, perhaps? Less zombie, more ghost? But the beat of her heart is slow if strong; If Medusa uses a stethoscope in her examinations, she'll hear the scrape of stone with each loathed thump. The Brutal Lands had a nasty habit of mixing up metaphor and literal, the Drowning Doom even more so. Being a medical professional in that place for anything outside of human must be the biggest fucking pain in the world. Eyes drop down to the instruments, the brittle smile breaking into a thin line. Eyes flick back up to Medusa. "Mm? Oh, I've learned to adapt to death - Everyone will, eventually. I wonder if you'll look as good as me when your time comes...?" 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll seems to be subdued for the most part she simplu is going to wait for Medusa to do he thing. Medusa would see something very strangeinternally flesh doll is missing part of her main nervous system is just gone. In both cases there's some strange black sluge likely from the sea of tears taking their place. "It's better than being garbage." She holds still and lets Medusa do her thingwhile she listens to Drowne Ophelia and she pauses for a moment. "...You know we both where born of the sea. I wonder what was thrown in to make you?" She looks to Medusa. "She's right everything dies, but that doesn't mean you want to stop moving though man that Staren. You ever heard him?!" 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     So she's been taking organs. Interesting.     The question Ophelia poses to her makes the nurse smile warmly, as if recalling fond memories. "I'm a mother, what do you think...?" she chuckles. "And are you honestly telling /me/ these things? Things I have known since before you were born, dear~?" Her tone is chiding. And the comment about the death that will come for all, as well as the witch as well...?     The nurse tilts her head slightly, and as she blinks, her pupils are slitted for just a moment, even as she gives Ophelia a motherly smile. "My time has come for me several times. Yet some of us have better things to do than to stay dead."     So philosophical these two patients of hers... A sigh leaves the nurse, even as the aides work on cleaning up the flesh doll's wounds. "Death affects us all differently, and I returned to life more than once," Medusa informs the strange creature. "And yes, of course I know who Staren is. I seldom deal with him however..." she drawls. Most of the flesh doll's wounds are taken care of by now, though the aides make sure to clean all of them. Medusa then opens one of the bottles, then picks up a piece of rubber that she holds out for Ophelia. "Now take this in your mouth." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "What went into the Sea of Black Tears to make me..?" Begins the Queen of Tears, turning her gaze aside to Flesh Doll. And then a flash of white teeth behind black lips; Less a smile from joy than predatory nature. ".. Why, me. I threw myself in. It seemed like such a good idea at the time; After all, everyone already thought I was a Tear Drinker. Hate to disappoint the treacherous fuckers~." That same brittle, cold laugh before she nods. "Oh, yes. I remember him - In fact, it was because of him that I thought of your imposter. The tin doll who stole your mind and spine, Kotone. I thought to myself, 'how can I really fuck this man over for his interference'? .. And it hit me. I'll bring back the -real- Kotone. After all, Staren apparently likes the imposter better ... maybe you should go visit him, after you recover?" And then she lays back, taking the rubber between claws and glancing back up to Medusa. That masochistic amusement. "I do like it rough. But you don't have to own a lover to get a child; They're walking around everywhere. Just ready to be plucked up." Teeth part, and the rubber is placed between them before she bites down. And then her clawed hands drop to either side of the med-bed, curling - metal squealing as they puncture to hold herself down. Nothing cuts so deep as sorrow, after all~ 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Yamakawa doesn't complain too much as she's pulled back together by Medusa hey it beats having thorns in her by a hell of alot. "Death? Rebirth? It happens but your still going to die and you don't cheat it is make a deal really..." She looks at the Queen for a moment. "Damn that's the most mental things I heard since you glued me back together my Queen. Fuck him over? Hit him here he hurts he fears death to the point he'd sell his soul...." 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     Is that a heavy sigh that leaves Medusa after the rubber piece has been given to Ophelia. "Bite down on it please, and stay quiet. I hate unnecessary prattle when I work. It takes so much time, and I'm a very busy woman."     .Finally Ophelia complies however, and the witch begins pouring some green liquid from one of the bottles into her cuts and injuries. Where normal medicine might do, there's always magic and witchcraft. And that is often far more painful and brutal, but so be it.     It's a burning sensation that spreads, and it's not the pleasant kind. It grows more and more intense, and Medusa seems to pour all of the bottle into the various wounds that she can see. And in addition to that she also uses a scalpel to quickly slice open parts of Ophelia's clothes. The clothes are ruined either way, so why bother taking them off? There are luckily bedsheets and such though, so if Ophelia is self conscious about her body then she doesn't need to worry about that.     After that is done the snake witch extends her hands, all while there's movement underneath the sleeves of her white medical coat. "I do think I told you once, didn't I?" she reminds Ophelia, all while she spreads her fingers... and /stabs/ them into the largest wounds Ophelia has. "You talk too much and yet you say so little."     Perhaps she's heard about how Medusa has treated some patients now and then, with her magic and familiars. But now she will get to feel it as a sensation enters the wounds that Medusa are touching. It's as if a hundred tiny needles just stabbed her flesh, and Medusa makes sure to keep eye contact with the singer, no matter her reaction. "If you wish to discuss philosophy with me, then do it when I'm having a drink, not when I'm working. Is that understood?"     The nurses and aides working with the flesh doll doesn't say anything, though they make sure to look away from Medusa. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' That broken, mad giggle slips from between Ophelia's teeth again at Flesh Doll's suggestion; But at the 'Doctor's insistence, she bites down harder, the jaw muscles in her narrow face tensing. Her nostrils do not flare; Her lungs stopped taking air long ago, after all. At the very least, modesty isn't a concern - her clothes, her claws, her very essence is the strange ectoplasm. The clothing responds almost like webs, peeling away beneath the scalpel and clinging stickily as the Snake Witch adds more cuts to the shifting material. It even -drips- when removed from her person, the Sorrowful Liquid slowly evaporating into the air as a dark mist. Which is when the oils strike open wounds. The Queen of Tears shrieks beneath, black lips peeling back from white teeth, smoke liberally rising as the BRUTAL FUCKING MAGIC tries to rebuild her non-conforming essence. Because being non-conforming is super goth, guys, for reals. The young woman - for she does appear young, despite the dead blue skin and the heavy darkness on her soul - pants, eyes half lidded as Medusa talks. There's little comprehension - save for the final push. A thousand needle stab, like a thousand tiny snake bites perhaps? Her back arches as she shrieks, her weight supported on her neck and heels in shuddering pain- And yet, her clawed hands never release their hold on the bedside, keeping herself pinned to this pain, even as her arms twist and yank. Suffer~ 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     It's a rough job, but Medusa keeps on working, her expression intense as she obviously focuses on the task at hand. So while it might be painful the pain never seems to linger for long in one place. As she works Medusa moves her fingers from wound to wound, and shortly after her fingers have left an area the pain there slowly dies down, though there's still some burning left for a short while.     Once she's gone over most of the injuries this way the Confederate nurse reaches out for the second bottle of medicine, and this too she begins dripping into the various wounds here and there, though not all of them. Only the major ones. The colour of the medication is pure black, and the consistency of it is rather thick, as if it were tar. Slowly it drips, and strangely enough, it has a strange itching feel to it as it soaks into Ophelia's flesh.     It takes a good while to work on the injuries, but after what feels like an eternity Medusa withdraws her hands, letting out a breath when she goes to wash her hands. "You should stay here for the night, Ophelia. It will take some hours before your flesh is knit again. It will also hurt less if you don't move much," she cautions. Sure, the pain is still there, but it's considerably far less than it was when Medusa was actively working on whatever she was doing with her hands.     Once said hands are clean however, she doesn't hesitate in walking over to the flesh doll, looking over the nurses and aides as they have finished cleaning up the injuries. "Well, I guess it's your time then. It will be far less bothersome fixing you, dear," she says, sitting down next to that bed as she gets the nearby tray with stiching equipment, various syringes and bandages. Stitching is simple, even if she needs to inject some medication here and there. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Felsh Doll has been mended up pretty well and had made her note about Staren. She's just really heard of him by reputation but that was enough the guy sounded like he needed to be humbled hard. She listens to the conversttion of both of her elders. Then Medusa comes to work on her she looks up and watches without much more say she cringes a few times but she's going to take it, it's better than being even more broken than she normally is. "So I'm less of a pain in the ass to patch up? Good!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Stars are born and wither; Blackholes decay to nothingness; The noise of the living slowly quiets, and in its absence DEATH METAL rolls on supreme, pure in its Sorrow - the source of hate, of grief and loathing and evil. This is what it feels like, an eternity trickling by second by glacial second as the burning and agony tear their way through the Queen of Black Metal. Her eyes have long ago rolled back, jaw muscles standing up on either side of her head as she saws and gnaws on the bit of rubber in pure, primal reaction. When the light is born again, when the universe begins to reassert itself in her addled mind, her body slowly sinks towards the bed again. Tears course down from her eyes, staining the sheets beneth her - melting into the air. Petals of shadow that rise up from her prone, heaving form like ash, the lights above humming and flickering. One can almost hear it, even here without her Six Stringed Guitar; The hammer of METAL. Because this? This is real fucking brutal. Focus comes back slowly, and she's weeping openly as her claws unbuckle from the bed beneath - the sound of metal singing. Great wracking sobs, clawed hands reaching up to cover her face; And somewhere, what was pained grief slowly bubbles into giggles. Madness, her clawed hands curling as she pulls them down her own face, leaving faint cuts that weep the ichor of her form. "Oh, Medusa~" She practically purrs, clawed fingers brushing along her sealed wounds - at least, those that Medusa wasn't currently busy stitching shut. "I've never been touched like that before. It almost hurt worse than-" The broken laughter peals from her again as she lays there, the calm after the raging storm. A slow, deep sigh from deep within as she lets her limbs dangle, chewing on a black lip with white teeth. "Mm. No, can't.. I have to get back to.. it. The Sea of Black Tears. I have to see .. " She's still a bit loopy; Coming down from that wretched agony was like a drug, leaving a euphoric high of relief. Eyes tracking the ceiling, reaching up at last to nudge and push the black petals that float about her with idle, null thoughts. Letting Medusa work on Flesh Doll in silence until she's done. Well, that shut her up, although perhaps not quite as Snake Doc intended. 
}}

4525/Go Into The Water

2016-09-29T13:11:25Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/09/08 |Location=Hikari Sea Port |Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Drowning Doom try to awaken the forgotten dead and drive the warmth of the li..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/09/08
|Location=Hikari Sea Port
|Synopsis=Season of Pain 2 - The Drowning Doom try to awaken the forgotten dead and drive the warmth of the living from this cruel world.
|Cast of Characters=975, 680, 1017, 930, 7, 945, 1006, 714, 1023
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The moon, she hangs like a cruel portrait, soft winds whisper the bidding of palm trees. The dark ocean shatters that pale light into curling fractures, the very essence of peace and tranquility. At least, at first. It comes - not with a whisper, but with a roar. Something pinging off the deep sonar, something quick and slim. Too thin for a submarine, too fast for a person; The ocean waters lit from beneath by eldritch lights that grow in strength as this THING rises towards the surface - The Coma Navaja. Lima Ultimos's pirate ship, it's rigging tattered, eye watering light strung from lanterns. As it breeches the surface, driving the curling waves before it, one can just make out a figure upon the prow- She stands, like some bizaare Heavy Metal Angel. Brown hair swirling away as the waters curl through it, eyes closed, skin pale but flushed with excitement. But as the waters part further and she breeches, one can see the Six Stringed Sorrow in her hand; And like an inverse reflection, where the cleansing water leaves her, her skin grows pale blue. A dress of the darkest ichor curling about her shoulders and slim waist, ebon hair tumbling, plastered to her scalp as rivulets of ocean water pour away. And the Six Stringed Sorrow- HAMMERS. A melody, ancient and driven as a call to arms, the wake candles hissing and sputter as the broken Queen of Tears summons DEATH METAL. Storm clouds already beginning to breech the air above the ancient scooner and it's undead crew. Her chin rises, white teeth flashes between black lips in a cold and cruel smile. The very water beneath her poisoned in her passing, swirling eddies of ink curling downwards towards the depths off shore. ".. Awaken. Awaken and -remember-.. THEMESONG: DethKlok - 'Go Into The Waters' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyw0xeOwVd0 

:'''{{#var:680|Nagato (680)}} has posed:'''     The night patrols are out and about away from Hikari Seaport and the resource expeditions have been sent out. Most of the heavy cruisers here, along with the submarines, are taking a dip in the repair baths deep within the Seaport's barracks and Nagato, herself, is up in her office with the other Capital ships... playing Mahjong. It was supposed to be a good night, successful training exercises done and the promise of more resources in the morning.     That's all changed...     Up in the conning tower sits a headset wearing woman, countless radars and such and with perfect view of the seas and skies around Hikari. The first thing that gets her is the storm brewing... Ooyodo's tilting her head, "The weather said nothing about a storm..." comes a slightly worried voice, then there's the surface contact, a single lone ship pinging in the radar. Pulling up a set of binoculars, she stares through them, looking around... "It's out there somewhere." and there it is...     A familiar ship to Ooyodo, "Attention Hikari Seaport! Enemy vessel approaching! Admiral, report to the launch bay, your firepower will be needed! I'll call in Union backup, the Destroyers are out on expedition."     Rushing towards the launch bays, Nagato gives a nod, "Understood, Ooyodo. Make that report. I'll head out alone here." and soon, Nagato hits the water with speed, guns trained in. She wasn't able to launch the carriers, the storm would rip apart the planes, most of her cruisers are repairing and her destroyers are out on expedition... time to see what the Union can delve out. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' The good thing about Rose Quarts, aside from her dozens of other good qualities, is that she's never far away from a portal, warp pad, or interdimensional gate. Nor is she far from her arsenal. It seems this Multiverse Unification brings with it a great deal of violence. Well, she's no stranger to violence, having fought a multi-millennia war for Earth. But sometimes teleporting between dimensions can result in... Interesting position shifts. That's why, instead of appearing on the ground, Rose appears some distance up in the air. "Oh no, not again." she says with a sigh as she hurtles oceanward. This isn't the first time she's wound up some distance away from the battle. No matter! Aiming her light cannons down, she begins launching a barrage of laser-filled goodness down to the ship that she can just barely see below. From the clouds above, four enormous beams of light come lancing down towards the vessel below her. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The magic words seemed to be 'Death Metal'. The digimon wasted no time, barely grabbing Katze and dragging her on him, the pair simply making their way to the nearest gate, and going as close as he can to the target!. He can't quite see Rose, but he sure as hell can hear the faint music, and see the shape of the ship getting blasted by pink laser beams.      Alden has to agree with that tactic, his frantic flying going to a halt as he steadies himself, tries to lock on to the ship, and warns Katze to hold still. The robotic wolf's body clicks several times as a large number of hidden missile bays are revealed preparing. The digimon's eyes glow red as he howls "Giga Destruction!" and unleashes a surprising ammount of ordinance, a swarm of small, but strong missiles rushing to meet the pirate ship. Each and every one of them 'painted' with an angry face, not unlike a bullet bill. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Kotone had been here The Evening before and a good deal of the morning spending it on the Archery Range training, she seems to have taken things to heart on it. Her archery did need work a whole lot of work. She'd been at it though pretty regularly now. She's not yet hit the mark on what her assignment was but she'd had been improving to anyone that's been taking note of her time on the range. Kotone ran to the hanger as fast as she could move and due to the storm? She wasn't kitting out with the normal equipment she did when she worked with the fleet. She would be taking some time to get geared up and to launch but she would be joining the fight soon enough. She took a deep breath as she got out fitted what could go wrong? Flesh Doll Someone else was with Drowned Ophelia and her minions as they moved through the depths she didnt need to breath as she moves to rise from the waters. She looks to be a patch work of brutal stitched together flesh like some homage to the monster in Mary Shelly's famous novel about a mad doctor making life from death. It's also often true when one meddles with such things? Horrible things happen and this woman doesn't seem right. If one looked hard at her there would be something very familiar to those defending the sea port about this woman. "So the remnants of the Imperial Navy. My Queen are you ready?" the music starts and it seems it's time she pulls a massive ax off her back smirking. "Let's see how the puppets dance. I ... think she's here..." 

:'''{{#var:945|Lima Ultimos (945)}} has posed:''' The Coma Navaja is far larger than the average 17th century brigantine. Her shadow engulfs whatever it approaches, and the rotted ship emits an aura of death. At the helm is Captain Lima Ultimos, an undead scourge with a flytrap for a shoulder. Lima Ultimos speaks cheerily towards his musical guest. "Aye, this will be a wonderful show! These naval dogs will witness ye truest art!" The ship ramps up speed. Will they be able to start the concert peacefully? Nope. Rose and Alden's attacks strike true, killing crewmates on the masts. They're rapidly brought below deck, as the cannons rain fire on the aggressors. They're incredibly powerful, enough to likely heavily damage a structure if allowed enough time. "Come at me, ye scurvy dogs! I'll strike ye base down!" 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Ophelia and her army are just a wonderful food source. She alone is a beacon of burning hate enough that both he and Kaltz could feed from her for years. Kaltz being the late Devil of Grief, of course, and Ophelia's got plenty of THAT to spare, too. Just being around Ophelia, merely absorbing the passive rage she emits, is like the warm feeling of a good alcoholic beverage settling in the stomach. Kind of. It works a little different for Razel. Suffice to say she's become quite an important food source.     Not only that, but his servants seem to enjoy her parties. Particularly if they get to hunt and/or kill something before, during, or after. They're cats, after all. Cats like to hunt, sometimes for the sole purpose of toying with prey. It stokes the rage in his servants, so Razel's got no complaints about it. This music Ophelia uses works wonders for that sort of thing.     Unfortunately, not being able to breathe underwater-- besides, he's a FIRE devil-- Razel's had to find his own way across. Which means he's going to be slightly limited in the number of minions he can bring to this little shindig. He can't endlessly teleport them, after all, and a ship that passes underwater with a crew that isn't bothered by a little thing like drowning would be a hazardous place to put air-breathing minions. Particularly his cats.     The boat breaks the surface and Opehlia starts to summon darkness and metal, and a few moments later there's a flare of bright, bloody red flame in the air over the boat. The fire burns itself away in the air, leaving the Devil of Wrath to linger in the air over the boat. His black and red attire blends into the night sky well enough, and he's quite, despite the fiery appearance. He doesn't bob in the air, no. Nothing about his stance indicates that he's anything less than completely secure. It's as though Razel's just standing in the air over the boat.     Suddenly Rose's beams of light come lancing down from the sky, and Alden's missiles come in from his position too! Razel is forced to move away from the ship or risk being caught in the crossfire. "...Well, they didn't waste time, did they?" he comments. "But the desperate do tend to flail."     The rage from all around will soon blend into a soupy mess of wrath. Despite the other side already getting the first shots off, Razel smirks. And he reaches out to the ship. He can feel its anger from being attacked. And possibly from being insulted by the opposition via radio? Razel reaches out to that rage with his power, stoking that ire. Anger is power, after all... perhaps that will give the ship a needed boost? 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' It's been a while since Sanary's been on one of Drowned Ophelia's tours. It certainly isn't the first place she'd pick to be considering what had happened the last time she fought alongside that certain brand of death metal, but considering the destination? She's willing to overlook that this time around. "So this is the place they've been hiding out at..." The healer squints slightly as she peers at the seaport in the distance, checking her gear to make sure it's all secured properly with an odd series of gray loops. Kite shield, gunaxe, and her largest (and greenest) set of armor as if to really emphasize the fact that she's angling for a fight than a discussion here?      "So. What's the plan, anyway?" She asks without turning back towards Lima nor Ophelia, seemingly focused on the Seaport. The healer does, however, keep her shield propped up against the side of the vessel as she's already mentally starting to prepare herself. Good thing, too, what with the quartet of light beams and barrage of missiles coming straight for the ship.      "Incoming!" Sanary shouts and pumps some energy into her anklets, taking flight moments later and narrowly avoiding getting blasted right off that ship by all the ordinance coming their way. She even intercepts some with her shield, moreso to keep her own head on before getting a better look at where the projectiles are coming from. "... Eh? What are you two doing here?!" She shouts towards Rose and Alden, hurrying in their direction with her shield raised. She doesn't look like she's aiming to attack just yet, although her expression shows she probably isn't going to just back down, either! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia's chin rises again as the beams of pink energy lance downwards from the Rose Quartz up above; As demons feed and ships howl, as the fury of battle rolls into heavy swing. The screams of alarms. The growing storm roiling about above, spreading wide and hard and fast. Her back arches, hair spread out in a rising wind - but this noise does not halt the metal. The winds do not muffle the SOUND AND THE MOTHERFUCKING FURY. NO, the sound grows LOUDER; Lightning crackles and thunder peels in time to the rattle of hidden drums, the very air about Lima's ship shuddering as the Queen of Tears summons DEATH METAL. Empowers it as it empowers here, a short circuit, a run-away reaction feeding on itself. And then the ship shudders beneath the onslaught given to it, Drowned Ophelia briefly losing her footing to stumble. Clawed fingers curl away from glowing strings as she looks up. Curiously calm - curiously cold. And then she snarls, answering both Sanary and Flesh Doll. ".. Make them HURT." Legs spread; Her arm swings up and hits down HARD, faster and faster, a thundering explosion of a solo. The waters around the ship churn and twist, the threads of inky Black Tears growing wider - lightning flickering and crackling, forking into the ocean around them. Air cover? No - BOMBARDMENT. Waves crashing and rising as the lightning strobes away from the ship and TOWARDS THE PORT ITSELF in time to hammering strings. "FIRE!" Themesong Change: DethKlok - 'Laser Cannon DethSentence' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbZoroX6Dx0 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' That sound. That sound. That sound. That sound. That SOUND! Rose Quartz does her best to hold it together. Her fall becomes uncontrolled as she plunges from the sky, the hate and the anger and the SOUND! It pierces right through her before she can get her shield up. The sound vibrates right through her created body, shaking her gem. "I..." Her fall becomes faster. Faster. Soon she can be seen, falling through the sky like a shooting star. There's a great HISS as her body hits the ocean, sinking beneath the waves. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden is not particularly happy about the sound, and neither is Katze, but seems they manage to hold it together at least a bit better than poor Rose. He makes a dive in her direction, but is interrupted as he sees Sanary rushing towards them!. He growls at the familiar face, "Why are you helping HER." he snarls, before his chest compartment opens, a much larger missile launching towards teh shielded opponent. "Garuru tomahawk!" he calls. 

:'''{{#var:680|Nagato (680)}} has posed:'''     Union help arrived and thats just great. Nagato was out of range for the first barrage, taken care of by Alden and Rose and she's still waiting for her Carrier to swap to Cruiser equipment.. She's got no time to waste, the shells from that ship arc over her and crash right into the port's grounds, smashing right into the launch bay and the conning tower, the shells exploding into them and destroying a portion of the tower and a few of the launch bays, making it even harder to summon base reinforcements.     Ooyodo lets out a screech of emotion, frightened that her safe spot on the base is getting shelled, it echoes over the local radio and Nagato's face turns into a scowl. "They cheapen their support and they threaten Ooyodo." Nagato's guns turn up and a jet black floatplane shoots off her back towards the sky and towards the Ship. Artillery spotting go. And, as soon as the plane makes contact, the guns make a loud rapport.     Eight white shells streak through the sky, the blasts of lightning from the storm light up their path breifly... armor peircing shells designed to rip through other metal boats, move at a frightening pace, hoping to strke the enemy vessel right in the midships... "Now sink, and don't pollute my waters any longer!" she shouts as she kicks up her speed to try and flank... that night scout barely hanging on with the weather like such... and that red flare of rage...     "All crew on base, start emergency repairs, I want those launch bays fixed!" 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone Kotone had just finished up loading up as the Admrial rightly told her to hurry the Davey Jones up. Which she did with the last bit of gear fitted? Kotone was skating out onto the water fromt he hangers looking to engage the Drowned and their allies She would open fire n Ophelia's ship the moment she had range. She would be more of a threat when she got in close enough to use the torpedos she was packing. "What do you want this time? What in God's name did you want with medical waste anyway?!" Seriously what did a band of crazy occult metal heds want with medical waste? She'd also have to focus on the waves or she'd end up sunk by the enviormental hazards. Flesh Doll The corpse puppet laughs loudly over th storm. "Come fallen daughters of the Rising Sun. What hope do you have? You will sink in the end as all do and you will understand your true natures." She's moving to close in now under her feet a strange black subtance keeps her above the waves. "Now Tell me?! WHERE IS THAT DOLL THAT THINKS SHE IS ME?! Tell me where the mechanical /doll/ is?! She took part of me and I would have it back." The Black tears seem to be reacting the more agiated that Flesh Doll is andshe's going to start tearing into the port if no one gets in her way. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Of course Alden would be angry. Why wouldn't he? Ophelia hasn't done much to hide her motives, at least, so Sanary just shrugs simply before pointing at the base in the distance. "Because /they/ drew /my/ girlfriend into an ambush and chopped her arm off while trying to kill her." She speaks in an oddly cold tone, doing a fairly decent job at keeping her tone level before bracing the shield in front of her. "So why are you helping them?"      And then there's ANOTHER FREAKING MISSILE. The healer doesn't have much time to react to it, barely able to get her shield up in time to keep the offending projectile from exploding right next to her face. The blast does send her hurtling down towards the water, however, and at just the right time to see someone else falling into the drink as well!      It's Rose. The healer makes a vague gesture at Alden as if trying to beckon him closer before holding her breath and cutting the flow of magic energy to the AANS (her anklets), then plunging into the murky depths as well! Sure, she might be on opposite sides of the fight as Rose Quartz, but...      Well, it doesn't look like Fleet's in any position to help her out. Might as well try and draw those two out of the fight diplomatically rather than with excessive violence first! Sanary starts to search the water, trying to catch a glimpse of the giant pink woman in the hopes of dragging her right back out of there. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' There's a roiling, boiling, noisy sound from beneath the waves. And then Rose starts to swim for the surface, trailing streamers of seaweed. But as she rises, her body is changing. It warps, twisting around itself in impossible geometries as she tries to create a body that adapts to the awful, soul-wrenching sound that pierces right through her gem. Her body grows, her twisting limbs and parts becoming first viney, then thorny. Her body chars and blackens, with thin rose threads running throughout, the head green. The terrible, thorn-riddled monster that was once Rose continues to grow, becoming truly monstrous in size. Her thorntacles writhe, churning the water as she grabs for the nearest target. The flesh doll is her first target, a dozen inanely sharp spikes launched ahead of the writhing tentacle-rose's grasping arms. "GROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARWWWWWWWWWWWWWWR" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The ship shudders and twists beneath Ophelia's feet, but her legs are planted wide. Back curled over her guitar as if in pain, eyes squeezed shut in the agony/euphoria of communing with the DEAD GODS OF MOTHERFUCKING METAL. The strings glow hot white, electricity flickering and arcing along her form - rippling to the ship beneath her, to the curdled, blackened sky above. Lightning explodes and crashes, rippling along the belly of the pregnant storm above to crash into the distant port again and again. But it would seem this won't be enough; For as impressive as it looks, the damage is superficial; Walls and stones. The Ship finally nosing up at the latest EXPLOSIVE BARRAGE from Nagato, ghouls under the service of another fighting hard. Drowned Ophelia is staggered, losing her grip on the song as she tilts to the side. But her eyes aren't on the battle - they're on the -WATER-. White eyes flicker up once as someone calls to her over the screaming METAL, self sustaining now, and she laughs. LAUGHS. Cackles. A mad, broken peal of laughter, even as Kaiju Rose rises from the waters. That is the answer Kotone gets, before Drowned Ophelia - runs her claws across her own wrist. Suicide hobby. The splatter of Black Tears hits the deck, and she continues to play again. Practically growling as her own ichor-for-blood runs down the strings, cooling them, sent hissing into the water below.. And there, Rose may have seen it first. The inky strands of darkness scouring the muddy, forgotten bottom; Things stirring. Boney arms and witch-lit skulls. The Dread Things. Ancient accidents, gripped in the madness of their own final agony, are marching forward - clothes and darkened banners waving like seaweed as they approach the distant shore. The first of the Dread Things now begininng to breech the waters...! Kaiju. Sea Zombies. Forgotten Dead. Healer Tanks. Flesh Doll and Cyborgs, Ship Maidens and Ship Murders. It's a mother fucking DROWNING DOOM CONCERT. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The digimon is not really aware of how... durable a gem might be, nor the effect of the sheer rage and dispair produced by the music might have on her, so he takes a momentary truce with Sanary. He growls softly a reply, even as he dives to try and fish out, "I only want to stop Ophelia, she has to be stopped." he mumbles softly. And then something out of a monster movie happens and he just stops in place. While he is not very sure the reason, he has to guess it's the fault of the darn music. He aborts his dive and glares at the pirate ship, "Must stop her." he barks again, before turning his attention to the ship.      The digimon braces himself, "Katze, use the card' he mumbles as a flash of light happens on his back, "Devil chip!" comes from Katze. Anyone that might be able to sense him might notice something happening, a black glow wrapping around him, as he trades defense and some health for a burst of offense and speed, charging at the ship, releasing a single, bright beam of blue energy towards Ophelia, hoping to freeze teh Drowned Queen, or at least stop the song for a moment. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:'''     Razel looks briefly to Ophelia, just long enough to determine that she's not been too terribly rustled by the bombardment of the ship and the battle thus far. Once he's assured she's all right, he looks back to the forming battle. Thus far he's managed to keep to a support role, though once it becomes apparent that he's affecting the emotions of the ship, he's pretty sure that's going to change. Twisted variant of 'shoot the medic'. Though arguably Sanary qualifies more for that than he does.     Rose's appearance as the massive beast certainly draws his attention! If the loud roar hadn't been an indication, the sheer amount of anger the beast is displaying is enough to catch his attention. Still, as he takes stock of the battle, he seens Alden aiming at Ophelia. Now Razel isn't about to put himself between Ophelia and the blast. He doesn't like pain, after all, and that's ICE.     But he's not going to let her just get hit, either. He gets as near as he dares, and extends both hands before him, hoping to catch where the beam will pass through with that burst of flame. Perhaps it'll dampen the impact some. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' And then Rose turns into a freaky monster thing. The healer's not at all ready to go through /that/ process again, so it's time to backpedal the hell away from that! Pumping energy into her anklets and cheating with the self-propelled loops around her gear once again, Sanary bursts out of the water with a mighty plooping noise as her shield breaks through the surface oft he ocean first, narrowly avoiding barreling right into Alden in the process. It seems he had the sense to stay out of the water, at least, and when he takes off to start shooting at Ophelia...      Sanary doesn't give chase. Razel's already on hand to protect her, and with Lima handling the heavy ordinance, that gives the healer a new job to focus on: Supporting the ship! Practically skimming the surface of the water in a maneuver that she definitely didn't practice for hours to try and look cool, the healer lands on Lima's ship with a mighty thud before bracing her shield against her shoulder and holding her hand against the deck.      And then a green light beam appears. It links her to the ship itself, granting the magical vessel access to her reserves and even helping it regenerate rapidly if it's capable of doing so. That's how ghost pirate boats work, right? 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll Flesh Doll had no idea about the Gems, and that was going to cost her. There's something coming out of the waves Flesh foll looks up at the thing that once was Rose. "Now that's Metal..." Her rants forgot about as here comes the horrible thorn-riddled monster thorntacles which are coming for her. Flesh Doll does attempt to get out of the wya but the thing tears into her flesh and she attempts to get her axe free to hack at the horrible plant Kaiju thing. She's in for a /very bad time/. Kotone Kotone meanwhile is opening ire on Ophelia's vessel and now she's managed to get close enough to let the torpedoes go. She gets no response and knows she's going to have to lay down a lot of fire but then something else comes, what the heck is going on there? She's forced to evade and break off her attack run due to Ophelia's minions. "...is that all you have to say!" 

:'''{{#var:945|Lima Ultimos (945)}} has posed:''' The Coma Navaja is super pissed. It wails and creaks, having intense emotions. Both Razel and Ophelia's boosts increase the ship's firepower, and Sanary's makes it far tankier. Eight shots from Nagato fire at her: two are shot down by cannon fire, while the rest hit true, smashing up the hull. However, Sanary's boost to regeneration causes those holes to quickly knit back together. As hell rains around them, Lima Ultimos was originally jovial. But Nagato antagonized him repeatecly in the worst way possible she insulted his ship. After the third time, he seethes, tearing his hat off, clmbing onto the wheel, and calling to everyone aboard. "Tonight, everyone of you working/ aboard me ship is a part of me crew. And tonight, the enemy has made a grave mistake: they insulted /our/ ship, and by extension, me crew." "This will not stand. They will pay. Capture allbof them! Make them suffer! Light the cannons, fire the caltrops! We'll keelhaul every last one of em, until they scream, and uf they survive that, we'll leave their fate to God above! MAKE THEM PAY!" The crew unites in their rage. The cannons are lit aflame and fired at all hostiles, including incoming fire. Caltrops are fired, hoping to chain around and sink flying targets. The Captain steers his ship with all his fury... And it soars into the air, before darting forward, shattering the sound barrier and creating a massive shockwave in every directiob. The cannons rain hell on all threats. And the Coma Navaja prepares to slam headfirst into Hikari, inevitably leaving destruction in its wake. May God spare them all. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' She's reaching it - she's hitting the climax. Climbing up that long winding, screaming rift twoards the finale, the Six Stringed Sorrow smoking, her own black ichor bubbling as it strikes the glowing strings. Her eyes are wild, open and crazed, hair flying in all directions as electricty crackles up and down her form. And she puts her leg upon the railing, smiling at Kotone below - it's not a smile of joy. There is no happiness in this thing; It's a predator's grin, the chuckling smirk of a crocodile at the water's edge. "You left your fucking HEART for anyone to snatch, little girl; And I stole it away~" Hand swings up once again - before the blast. That fucking dog-eared cold BLAST of pure ice. Razel's flames help; She feeds him as he feeds her, loathing and grief and hate in a maelstrom storm to match the crackling air above. But still - it was a break. The Queen of Tears folds in as the ICE BLAST hits, frost crackling up along blue skin. The Six Stringed Sorrow shattered - the storm above rolling and rumbling, neither retreating nor growing louder without Ophelia's soul thrashing sorceries to empower it. The Dread Things that walk out from the ocean towards the shores of the island pausing in their deathless march, silent snarls of open jaws and witchlit hissing. Blackened, rotted banners blowing in the storm's winds. And then Kotone's torpedos shudders the deck below Ophelia, just as Lima TAKES THE FUCK OFF. Like a battered doll, the Queen of Tears is thrown from the surface of the ship and into the waters, half her form trapped in ice. Weakened by feeding all she had into her music, into her METAL, into Lima's ship itself. But the show's not over -yet-. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' Rose has become little more than a massive, destructive, Kaiju-beast. The cannons fired only serve to annoy. But they do have on positive effect. While she can't tell friend from foe, her feral mind recognizes pain. The massive Thorn Tentacle Rose Kraken BEAST surges towards the ship. Even her powers are out of control, every plant for miles surging around her. Seaweed squirms up the sides of the ship, and tears at the cannons, trying to rip them out. And here is where things start to get strange. Rose's command over plants is normally very precise, and she doesn't call out to dead or dying plants. But the odd interaction between her corrupted shape and her powers is calling to the ship. Even as she bears down on it, smashing at it with all her might and fury, she gives the ship a life and will of its own. And she hasn't forgotten the Flesh Doll. Her tentacles surge around her, drawing her deep into the thorny bramble at Rose's heart. Long, evil looking thorns start to slowly grow through the doll's flesh, piercing it in a dozen places. For every tentacel that's sliced away, two more take its place. but Corrupted Rose is tough, and she struggles up through the pain, focused on her main target. Ophelia. Drowned Ophelia. The source of that unholy, terrifying sound that continues to shake her very core and the sea about them. All her energy is focused on one single overriding goal. MAKE THE NOISE STOP Of course, once Ophelia goes over the side, she loses interest in the ship entirely. Throwing itself from the ship, Thorn Kaiju Rose leaps after her. The music has stopped. It can't start again! She crashes down towards Ophelia's weakened, half-frozen body. All that remains is hate, rage, and pain, and the need to give it to others. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The dog eared digimon might be too focused on trying to turn off Ophelia's music to realize that some of the cannon fire was moving a bit too close to comfort, and KAtze's panicked warnings were not enough to make the weakened digimon to move in time. He ends up entangled by the caltrops, and letting out a loud whine as he is swiftly, and roughly pulled down to the water... the lack of defense making teh hit a bit worst than it should!.      The robot wolf digimon flails for a few seconds against the weight, before he seems to remember something... his form glowing for an instant, before returning to his base shape, a much smaller critter, that easily slips out of the bindings, floating for a bit now. 

:'''{{#var:680|Nagato (680)}} has posed:'''     The shells are confirmed for hitting, even if a few got shot down before hand, but that's fine. Nagato's little night scout still hovers in the air, dodging caltrops and incoming fire, nimble little bastard that fairy and her plane is. After giving warning to her allied 'cruiser', Nagato's face turns into a scowl once more as the area is filled with a white light. Shells splash around her but the unlucky ones that sail farther from her smash again into Hikari, destroying landscaping, a multitude of anti air and anti ship batteries, and there's a LARGE explosion from the rear... the ammo storage well was struck and cooked off the ammunition and bauxite supplies and setting fire to some of the fuel supplies.     The white light dies off... and soon, Nagato's nowhere in sight, at least the 'human' part of her. That's sstored up deep within the hull of the battleship that has materialized out of thin air around the Admiral. There's an echoing voice as turrets reload, high explosive shells, designed to set fire to targets, are loaded... "Time to get serious." she mutters from deep within, a loud horn fills the air as an attempt to drown out the absurd music playing... and then.     CRACKOW! Eight more shells fired from full sized battleship cannons arc from the guns towards the Coma Navaja... who looks to be coming towards the Seaport. Secondaries start pelting everything within reach, spraying out flak and shells to any enemy target stupid enough to get close to the battleship, including trying to pelt smaller shells at Lima's ship. "I'm going to rip that wooden boat to shreds!"     That music, however, is having an effect on Nagato... the memories of her Abyssal time are riding to the top... 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Alas, Sanary's not a complete monster (yet)! Not to people she likes or is ambivalent about, at least. That's why when she sees that telltale glow from Alden, she lets out a light sigh before directing a small cloud of healing energy over the edge of the Coma Novaja and towards the floating Digimon. It's not a huge amount of regenerative magic or energy, but it's something.      What is a little more monstrous is everything else going on around her. Shelling and gunfire and magic flying everywhere above her and Lima's ship, the kaiju battle between the transformed Rose Quartz and the amalgam creature Flesh Doll near the water, the blasts from above and below from Alden and Kotone throwing Ophelia right off the vessel...      There's just way too many things going on for Sanary to even attempt to focus her attention on. Alas, she'll just settle for destruction this time around, roaring out with the Coma Navaja's crew (or as part of its crew?) before pouring even more energy into augmenting the boat. Fixing it, feeding it power, all for the sake of getting back at Nagato and the Seaport! She even stands for a moment to fire off an explosive heat laser from her magitech eye at the transformed Fleet Daughter once Lima's boat is close, trying to ignite the deck before focusing her efforts on not getting crushed while bracing on the ghost ship's deck.      Secretly, though? She's just holding out a little hope that Akebono's not in there right now. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears floats, her form trapped in the ice. She's snarling, black hair plastered to her forehead - but she does not need air. She does not need food. She only needs the grief, the hate to drive her stone hard heart. Her other clawed hand rips and tears at the ice, shattering it away - and more of her own pale blue flesh. Her essence, the liquid Sorrow of Black Tears, spreads like ink around her as she bleeds - and she has only a moment to look upon the madness. The flicker of lightning that shows the sillouette of combatants tearing and ripping at one another. The strobe of NAGATO'S CANNONS blasting and hammering the air with concussive blows to match the screaming drumset of the DEATH METAL CRESCENDO while a GHOST SHIP goes ram-first at sonic speeds to SHATTER THE FUCKING LIVING. And undead marines mill about on the shore, caught on the edge of their forward progress at the hesitation of their METAL. It's something right out of an Alestorm album art. And then a shadow eclipses the DEATH METAL QUEEN when KAIJU ROSE smashes into her. Her enraged screams lost to bubbles as she is forced under - but she is swirling in a miasma of her own blood. Her own BLACK TEARS. Madness; The cold comfort of forgetfulness, the pounding hate that someone, -anyone-, would dare take this the fuck away from her. She lifts her arms and screams once more, the ebon ichor slicing TOWARDS Rose Kaiju. Where it was once liquid, it is suddenly solid - solid as shards of razor glass, flying through the water to tear and rip and poison. But that was all. That was it. Drowned Ophelia's eyes flicker as she floats, head tilting back. And begins to sink once again; Blue skin gone. Smaller, somehow - a thin, pale woman floating slowly downwards into the dark, brown tresses of hair covering her features - the currents tugging at her black T-shirt. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Kotone The reply that she gets from Ophelia, causes confusion for a moment in Kotone's mind a thought start to form but it's interupted by Admiral Nagato's call for support fire. She's going to do her damnest to help and since she was told to watch the Torpedos she's going to have to do that, she's certainly going to have to do that. She's going to have to watch her fire and er ont eh side of missing least she ends up hiting an ally with her guns. Should she get a chance she will make use of the Torpeods but she being caustious as she was told to do so. "Wait are you saying...?" Flesh Doll Flesh Doll Flesh Doll is not having a good time at all. Flesh Doll lets out a howl of rage and anger as she feels the throwns rippign into her. "Again ... again... the universe would be better off without ... things ... like ALL OF YOU!" She screams as the Axe is put into overdrive and she moves to rip herself free heedless of the injury it might cause her to do so in such a way. 

:'''{{#var:945|Lima Ultimos (945)}} has posed:''' Rose smashes into the ship. While the cannons are regenerating too fast to be smashed, they can't fire in the interim. Nagato transforms into a fullblown battleship. Lima whistles, as he reaches the head of the ship. He'd tell his crew to get to safety, but he knows they'll refuse. They'll do this together. "Ye are facing Lima Ultimos, tye Revenant Spaniard! Ye have made a sworn enemy. We will not stop until you sink! Bound gy yer laws, yer tyranny, ye think yenown these seas. But now ye'll see what happens when ye submit to hubris! May the lord have mercy on ye soul!" The Coma Navaja has no intent on passing Nagato. Instead, it becomes a speeding bullet, the air lighting aflame from sheer friction. And then it rams straight into Nagato, no worries about the impending heavy dajage. It,s going to crash ger straight into the port and destroy as much as possible. Inbthe end, this is no mere toy. 

:'''{{#var:680|Nagato (680)}} has posed:'''     "You chose the wrong person to make an enemy! By the Imperial Japanese Navy, I, Admiral Nagato, WILL NOT YIELD!" she shouts, guns fire, secondaries are focused onto the Coma Navaja, and Nagato's not fast enough to get out of the way... nor would she with what's coming. She's trying to stave off what more damage but when the Coma Navaja strikes the Nagato's bow, the unthinkable happens.     The speed at which it rammed the Admiral sends the boat pushing through the water and up towards the land, destroying the ship's steel and the Port's frontal anti-ship and anti-air batteries, ammo cooks off and shrapnel blasts through the command facility and fire erupts through it, and the now beached Nagato. There's warning sirens but nothing from the Admiral herself. The ship, however...     There's a lot of damage to it, steel cracked and broken... by a wooden ship no less. Water floods the ship, fires spread through the inside, and if it was any normal ship, probably would be listing pretty heavily by now and sinking, but beached... it just stays where it is, creaking as if something might blow again. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' There's still a vague sense of Rose inside the monster, in its animal cunning. Oh it will release The Flesh Doll alright! The Flesh Doll will find itself a way out and sudden freedom... Right into the path of Ophelia's Final Strike! The beast will let Flesh Doll absorb the brunt of the attack. its bulk handles the rest, its body slowly healing. It's a slow, stuttering healing, barely enough to keep it moving. But move it does, lashing out at everything within its reach. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Should Sanary be getting off Lima's boat? Probably. Would it be a lot safer to be funneling her energy into it from behind or while flying or literally anywhere else besides standing on the deck that's getting bombarded with so much cannonfire? Much.      Sanary is not known for smart or strategic decisions, though, and today? Today, she just wants to indulge in some revenge, even if it carries the very serious risk of throwing herself overboard. And go overboard she does, between bracing for dear life just to not get blasted off by the shells taking off massive chunks of her armor and nearly taking her arm off from the constant blasts hammering at her shield and sides, and then suddenly stopping upon that massive impact of ship on ship. Thankfully, the side of the deck keeps her from hurtling right off the Coma Navaja outright, instead only slamming into that side and coughing out mouthful of blood.      "Kkh.. Th.. .That's what... That's what you...Get!" The healer practically spits those words out as she drapes herself over the side of the ghost ship, glaring defiantly at the Nagato and the Seaport. It's only adrenaline-fueled anger that keeps her awake long enough to gaze at the sight before her before dropping back onto the deck, content to draw her magic back into her and try to stem all that internal and external bleeding.      It'll be a while before she gets up again. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     And at this moment, as the horrific ocean battle grinds to a slow, agonized end, a roar pierces the air, the sound somehow opening a hole, a portal through which runs a pink Lion carrying a small boy. The Lion skids to a stop on the surface of the water, looks left then right, then at Rose. It seems nonplussed by the monstrous form, but then Lion seldom shows any actual concern. He's far too much a cat for such things.     "Lion, this is the ocean! I thought we were going to-waaaaah!" Steven cries out in fear/awe/confusion, Rose's Shield appearing instinctively on his left arm. Lion nimbly dodges between the lashing out attacks, though Steven seems to be barely holding on.     "Is that... Is that MOM?! No, Mom can't be corrupted!" he cries out, terrified of this possibility. "Mom, I'm coming to save you!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Storm bulges once more, swelling outwards - before it flattens. A slow, gentle rain beginning to patter to the seething ocean below, churned by a KAIJU ROSE. The guns fall silent, the Cama Navaja shuddering and squealing as it pulls out of it's battered position with the NAGATO. Listing and lilting as it is drawn hard to starboard, curling in on its own tail as it heads for deeper waters - and we do mean DEEPER, fully intending to sink, with smoke and fire belching from damages too severe to regenerate. The battle to shatter the Imperial Navy here may be lost, but it sure as hell rang the fucking gong. All aboard~ The Dread Things remain upon the shore for a moment more, quizzically, as the rain begins to fall. And - one by one - they turn and begin walking clumsily back into the ocean. Some falling as they go, the witchfire that lit them - the hammer of Sorrow that drove them from their forgotten graves - dispersing as the DEATH METAL fades away. Leaving only the monstrous confusion of a gem's broken mind and the innocent cries of a young boy for his mother. Oh, and the hiss of rain and crackle of fires, but shh. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' The Rose Monster continues to rage, the hate and pain still twisting around in what used to be its mind. It flails, roars, and flings great thorns across the landscap. It hurts, it screams. It wants the pain to stop. The sound is over but the pain is still going. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll Flesh Doll does get free but at a hell of a price as she goes flying vanishing under the waves. She does let out a cry of rage as she does so. Why? Because she's been caught in the attack and that's not fun, that's not fun at all. Is she dead? It's hard to tell with what has happened but soon there is no sign of Flesh Doll at all. Kotone Kotone seems to have done her job passingly at least she thinks so as she comes to a halt as she stares out at sea and what Rose has become. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     "Moooom!" Steven calls out, trying to reach Rose through the corruption, Lion staying close enough for Steven to reach out, but not quite in range of random pained flailing.     "Lion, we have to get closer! I'll bubble us if she tries to hit us, but I don't think she will, she's just hurting... Mom, let me try to help!" The small Gem-human hybrid tries desperately to reach his alternate mom, no real plan to help, only desperation. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' Rose Kaiju gives a great big roar and lashes out. Steven's bubble pops up right in the nick of time as a set of great thorny brambles wrap around the bubble. Steven and Lion get dragged into the heart of the mess, where a great lidless eye stares out, burning with rage and pain and HATE. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Steven bangs on the bubble, though his own sense of self-preservation won't let him drop it with those thorny vines gripping.     "Mom, it's me! It's Steven! Look, see, I have the same gem as you!" he lifts his shirt to prove it. "You have to fight it! Please don't be corrupted! You're too amazing, and I won't let it happen! You weren't there for... so long... Don't leave again..." His small fists strike the bubble weakly, then turn into grasping fingers pressed against the surface. Tears drip off his face into Lion's mane, and even Lion looks somewhat worried. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' There's something in there. A spark of recognition as the great maw opens. "S... S... Steven..." it says, a sensation of horror shuddering through its entire body. Then there's a BAMF of displaced air, and, quite suddenly, Rose's gem and Steven are falling towards the ocean. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:'''     Steven's bubble is gone in a heartbeat and he leaps off of Lion's back to catch the gem, cradling it like it's the most precious thing ever as he hits the water. Lion casually dips his nose in and comes back up with a spluttering Steven, suspended by the back of his shirt held in Lion's teeth. With a flip of his head, Lion tosses them onto his back again, glances back at the beached ship then roars another portal open and vanishes into it with his passengers. 
}}

4480/Nymphentamine

2016-09-29T13:10:14Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/08/29 |Location=The Citadel - Front Gates |Synopsis=Aborted scene to introduce Flesh Doll to a few Feds. |Cast of Characters=975, 516, 7 |pret..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/08/29
|Location=The Citadel - Front Gates
|Synopsis=Aborted scene to introduce Flesh Doll to a few Feds.
|Cast of Characters=975, 516, 7
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It began - with the hammer of drums. The very air shudders with the slow, almost lazy sway of guitars as lightning crackles between the posts of an inactive portal to the Citadel. It grows, as calm as a bomb, before the portal opens; Rippling explosions follow the vehicle that exits - the Hearse. One part hot rod, one part corpse carrier and one part rolling temple to DEATH METAL, fire pours out of golden exhaust ports while the blower howls, sucking in deep droughts of air. The blurring machine's crackling ripple echoing about the white temple-like expanse, leaving tire tracks on the pavement. At the wheel? Who else - but the Queen of Tears herself. A cold, brittle smirk on her face as her clawed hands wrap about the steering wheel, relaxing back into royal purple upholstery. The oversized backwheels squeal as Drowned Ophelia kicks in the hand breaks, its rear end rotating around and drifting to a stop. There it pauses, rattling and growling, a beast, unnatural life formed from the power of METAL and FIRE and NOISE and BLOOD. Ophelia glances over, letting her arm drape out one side as she flashes white teeth between black lips. "Here we go. Fucking awesome set of wheels, right?" She asks, of her 'passenger'. ThemeSong: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dW6aNAZGTM - Cradle of Filth, Nymphetamine Fix 

:'''{{#var:516|Ferham (516)}} has posed:'''      Ferham must have seen the rather... interesting display as the hearse approached the citadel. Ferham descended down from a higher story, or perhaps the very top of it somewhere--her metal wings flared out to either side of her, her high heeled boots clicking against the pavement outside as she alighted on the ground.      "So what do I owe this pleasure this evening? do you perhaps need any help with your... girlfriend? passenger?" Ferham raised a brow as she stood there just nearby the hearse, a hand on her hip as she peered in. The femmebot was remarkably tall, at least 6'5" in those boots, it seemed like. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' For those who know Kotone? They might see someone who looks a bit like her, but that's on top of being a patchwork of stiched together flesh. She also looked like she fell out of a metal concert. She turned her face to the Queen of Tears for a moment seemingly thinking as they are on a ride. "Honestly? Like a damn monument to hubris." She paues to look over at Ferham and grins as she looked at the tall reploid woman. "You, you I like. The name is Flesh Doll, you are?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Fucking A it is. I'm the Avatar of Death Metal." Begins Ophelia, drawing her clawed hands along the cars door. ".. And this is my -ride-, right off the metal flesh of the Cremator." There's almost reverance in the voice, as if the Doom Metal Queen actually enjoyed something beyond hurting people. Well, perhaps 'enjoyed' is a bit strong of a word. She then glances up - and up again - at Ferham. Grinning as she steps out of the growling car, the ectoplasmic ichor that makes up her dress shifting tightly with each move. Before tilting her head towards Flesh Doll. "Girlfriend's a bit much. I just finished getting her wet." With Black Tears! One arm crosses over her chest, the other propping up her chin. Clawed fingers tap-tapping against her cheek. "You're new. I don't think I've had your pleasure yet." There's something cold and brittle in the woman's voice, despite the provocative language. "Mind showing her around? She'll need to get her feet under her before she goes after the imposter.." 

:'''{{#var:516|Ferham (516)}} has posed:'''      "I see, did this used to... be someone?" Ferham peered into the car as Ophelia got out, looking over 'doll' face there, apparently she got the hint this was someone that had been frankensteined back to life. Or maybe put together as something entirely new.      "Well then, just wait," Ferham replied cooly to Ophelia's comment about being new and not having had her pleasure yet. "Sure, I just need to know what the story is with her and if there is anything I should know," Ferham stepped back, her wings swiveling and sliding into place behind her back, peering down at 'Flesh Doll', she would offer a black polymer gloved hand to help the girl up and out of the vehicle. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll notes "You know what the greeks were all about but honestly? Union's even more full of pride, they burned entire words and trumped it up as justice as protectin the rest. Bunch of sick shits who make us look good." There's a hint of hate bitterness and even a little fear there. "I still am something...if I can get back what /she/ took I can be whole again." She looks to Ferham with intrest now. 

:'''{{#var:516|Ferham (516)}} has posed:'''      "Get back what who took from you?" Ferham tilted her head down at the girl, or doll, whichever. She was still holding her black-gloved hand down for her, though she leaned back just a bit now. "I was told to get you acquainted with the facility, I assume your handler here is looking to have you work with us, well it's my responsibility to help you," Ferham nodded a little, peering down at the stitched together girl.      "So, what's the story? you get in a fight with a lawn mower, or what?" the femmebot raised a brow. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Scene closed due to RL and loss of player! More words to finish the word count! 
}}

4462/Dismantling Devotion

2016-09-29T13:09:12Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/08/25 |Location=Antichthonian New York <ANY> |Synopsis=Aborted Attempt to corrupt Sigrun. The player decided to hold off until later. |Cast of..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/08/25
|Location=Antichthonian New York <ANY>
|Synopsis=Aborted Attempt to corrupt Sigrun. The player decided to hold off until later.
|Cast of Characters=975, 992
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Too many times. Too many times had the Queen of Tears had her plans, her vengeance against the multiverse, stalled by a well placed strike from holy silver. She had tried to be 'polite' about things of course - she'd walked up and tried to take the woman's head off. But people? People just don't learn. They're all a bunch of self indulged fuckers, clinging to the last vestige of their world, refusing to face the inevitable. The irresistable. But Drowned Ophelia? She faced that finality with a doomed glee, with the knowledge that as alone as she is - in the end everyone else will be alone too. It's a much slower song that plays on the far side of 'Manhattan', the creature's head hung low as her clawed hands run and trickle along the guitar in a melancholy tune; For her battles, she focused on how much she fucking hated everything, let her grief be her power. But this? This is pure fucking sorrow. Black tears crawl down her cheeks, her face hidden beneath the tresses of her hair- her body slowly swaying back and forth to the glacier tempo of misery. The Black Tears drop from her cheeks, the strange ectoplasm evaporating before it hits the ground. Slowly wafting away, black smoke in a black night, seeding the pregnant and dark clouds above. And far away, the clouds drift over the poorer district of town. A dull rumble of thunder that only makes the homeless and destitude pull themselves a bit deeper into their wrapped coats and boxes, huddled beside the floating buildings. The moonlight dull and sullen, in the brief moments it had peeked through. This was no crashing against the walls, no battlecry - this was as slow and potent a poison as grief, welling slowly up like a sob in the throat. Unexpected until it broke, rain pattering against the side of the unkept buildings... THEMESONG: Daylight Dies - 'Dismantling Devotion' 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' After a long day of collecting clues for one of her clients, the monster exterminator has found her way to a little pub at the street corner. Run down, older than the buildings around it, but maintained by a man with a passion for the place, and a small but familiar set of regulars. As one of those regulars, she sits down at the bar, takes off her mask and orders "The usual." A glass of a clear liquid is put in front of her soon after, and she casually twirls the glass in her hand, thinking about work before consuming the alcohol. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The rain patter turns into a full on storm as lightning cracks and crawls along the sky; A tantrum in the heavens. But there is something else in the clouds, now, something that hunts the bitter-sweet sting of sadness like iron fillings hunt a magnet. The clouds thickening - deepening - above the pub for only a few moments. The rain that falls, pitta pitta, upon the pub's roof leaving black puddles. Beneath, the pub windows rattle briefly from a crack of thunder before the storm settles back down to a lazy fall. The street lights outside fractured and smeared by water trails, interrupted by a passing pedestrian huddled against the cold, weeping rain. A faint few drops strike the floor within the pub as well, clear water building against the ceiling before falling with a faint 'plip'. Plip. Plip. Threads of ink slither into the next droplet, which tracks slowly sideways as the rest continue their metronome. Plip. Plip. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Tired and trying to relax, Sigrun is not as vigilant as she would otherwise be. The passive spells that might have warned her about any impending threat disabled to preserve energy. This is a safe place, a comfortable place. Thus, Sigrun is wholly unaware of what makes this any different from any other rain. It's New York, rain isn't exactly an unfamiliar experience. She finally raises her glass to her lips, taking a quick, small sip. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The blackened droplet slithers across the roof, trembling always on the edge of falling; An tear ready to be shed. There it hovers, as Sigrun nurses her usual - and when the glass touches the counter, it falls. "Seen you in here a few more times than usual." Begins the pub owner, rubbing his finger over the glass as a cleansing spell flashes along palm. His voice masking the 'plip' of the black tear striking the edge of the glass, particulates quickly dissolving into the hard liquor. Booze had always been a friend of sorrow, after all - a courier of the little madness that came with escapism. Nothing but a faint shimmer left in their wake. "Ever think about taking a vacation? Getting away from all .. this?" Small talk was unusual - must be a slow evening. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' "I have, but..." Sigrun shrugs, seemingly not really all that enthusiastic about the idea. She takes another sip of her booze, a larger one this time. "Someone has to help these people, and I don't see anyone stepping up to do the job while I take a break." She doesn't sound bitter about it, just accepting an unpleasant fact. "Would be selfish." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The man blinks quietly, then looks at the table for a moment as he puts the glass down. Quietly rubbing his own jowels between thumb and forefinger - which inadvertantly starts the cleaning spell on his own face. Not necessarily a bad thing. "Huh. I guess. But what do you do that helps?" That last shot must've been a kicker, because it -burns-. It burns all the way down to your belly, where it sits like a lead ball. Grief - sorrow - was like that. It could weigh you down, make you feel like the bottom was about to drop out of you. Make your heart beat in your ears.. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun is about to answer that question when she feels that effect, and she stops with her mouth still half open. Silent as she thinks about the question, and when her answer comes, it's far less firm than it'd otherwise have been. "Keep people a little safer. It's not much, but it's something." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Yeah. I guess. Lemme know if you want to setup again." Shrugs the pub owner, who tucks the cleaned glass away and goes to fetch more from the sink pile. It wasn't quick, but it was a cheap and easy spell to maintain. The lead in your belly doesn't cease - if anything, it simply begins to get heavier. As if you were being pulled down by your own inside, throat warm and dry. 'Keep people a little safer'. Was that it? All your efforts, all your time, all your pain and money - and that's all you could offer? But what else could you do? You might fail to make a difference, again and again and again, but. .... but what? This room - this pub. It's getting warmer, now. Oppressive, almost. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun just throws down a handful of coins, enough to pay for the drink and a modest tip, and starts to head out. She's not sure why, but she feels like she has to get out of the bar, out into the open. All the while, her head keeps spinning, keeps revolving around that very question. 'What difference does it make anyway?' 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The rain outside is cool; Cold, almost, a shock to the system. And yet somehow it feels -juuuust- right, as the thunder rumbles across the low cast sky once more - as crystals plink and sputter, their spells nearly depleted. That sickening warmth flowing up from your stomach; It's not puke. It's something else. Something familiar. But that's not really important now, is it? Because even just outside the pub it becomes obvious. Nothing -has- changed. If anything, things are just getting worse - more people, less money, more problems. And more people escaping it the only way they can. All you'd have to do is look down any alleyway; Hobos sucking down from paper bags. People hunched over in empty corners, sharing purple dust or the flicker of fae wings. What difference does it make? You said it yourself; If it wasn't for you, there'd be no one else. Would it hurt so fucking much for them to just fucking -try-? Just once? Just put down the fucking bottle and -try- something, rather than squatting with tongues out, waiting for someone to press coin or food? 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun wanders around, looking at the people she's been trying to help with an emotion she has not felt for them before. Contempt. She shrugs, and walks onwards, heading for... she doesn't even really know where. What difference does it make anyway? Are these people even worth saving to begin with? For the first time, that's a question that's not answered with an axiomatic 'yes, of course they are' and this feeling... it's somewhat liberating. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' That warm, sick feeling keeps coming up now. A storm of your very own to match the thunder above. Everything you did for them, all that you offered, all of your years - fuck, all of your -life- you gave to these sick fucks. And all they wanted was more. And you could feel it now; You knew what it was, what came with that liberation. That hot, burning sensation working its way up your throat; A sob. Bubbling, curdling in your throat, refusing to let air past it as it grows - as it -hurts-. Ever have that one moment? That one moment where stress just piles on, where nothing goes right, where you take one look at your life and feel that sudden drop of loss? Maybe it was after a relative died. Maybe it was just realization of how empty things can be. It squeezed the chest, removed your breath; Left your lower lip shuddering, eyes wet and unfocused. It -hurt-, but then it was gone. It hurt, but the relief that came afterwards was cool and refreshing. Now imagine that moment never ends. That pressure just pushing harder and harder, squeezing down on your chest, a sob caught in the throat that never breaks. Tears that sting but never fall. What the -fuck- where you doing with your life? What the -fuck- did anything matter anymore? If you dropped dead - if you simply fell down where you lay - would these assholes do anything to help? Or would they wait until you stopped moving to steal what coins you had? You tried to be a hero - for all your faults, you had that. You knew who you were and what you are. But what now?? 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' And Sigrun is lost, she doesn't know where to go next. No longer with a certainty of purpose, there's nothing to guide her way. Thus, she wanders, aimlessly, until she finds a quiet spot to sit in. A spot where others can't see her, and she tries to cry these feelings away. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' What do tears matter, when the world drowns in rain? The uncaring sky crackles and rumbles above, leaving everything with a half-melted appearance; All that was hard and solid now runny and soft, an illusion by flickering crystals and blurry vision. Who gives a fuck anymore? Lightning crackles once more; A sudden sharp hit of a guitar, a lonely echoing wail - a mourning lovers final, desperate scream at the empty heavens. The water that falls is black as ink now, churning slowly as it coalesces. The sound of wings over the thunder, and a sob from above; The Queen of Tears. But she does not fall like a comet, but as slow as the drop of a feather, raven wings spread to either side of her. Eyes bright in the dark trails of Black Tears that run down her cheeks - her black lips serene. Calm. No cruel or dark smirk this time, but a strange sort of acceptance. Her bare toes touch the wet ground first, the churning black tears curling about her ankles - embracing this broken thing. ".. You don't have to, anymore." She begins, as she settles herself to the ground as well. Voice curiously soft, throat raw. Her eyes on the ground, drawing a clawed finger through the watery puddles. ".. No one made you care. No one made you do this, give yourself up to failure over and over. And it never helped anyway.." In the reflection is another woman; Black hair, youthful, pretty and strong and wild, with wide and dark eyes. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun looks up at the Queen of Tears, and though there's the emotional turmoil, and there's the current lack of caring about the people around her, she knows who that is, and even if she think stopping her wasn't much use, she's still quite confident that she doesn't like or trust the other. "What do you want?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "What do I want?" The Queen of Tears considers that question, very carefully. Her chin lowers, the falling rain plastering her long hair across her face, eyes hidden. Her clawed fingers lift once more from the puddle, palm opened towards the sniper who had caused her so much grief. ".. I want it to end." She begins, softly. Her chin lifts as well, eyes bright beneath the strands of her own sable hair. "I want it all to just fucking stop. These stupid, empty, worthless little things the living do to distract themselves. The great and simple truth is - nothing fucking matters. So you might as well do what you want." That cold, brittle little smile comes back across her blackened lips, as she tilts her head. "But I think you get that now, don't you? I can hear it; your heart's breaking. So what did you give to them...?" Her gaze turns upwards, towards the floating buildings. Nevermind the rain that plinks against her forehead, or runs in tiny streams down her pale blue flesh. "Did you give them your time? Your effort? Did you think they would thank you, that things would change... did you think love was enough? Not kissy love, but love of another person, the willingness to sacrifice yourself for a stranger. To take their hurt to yourself, because you were stronger, better, faster. Because you could. Because they needed you too." Those eyes drop back to Sigrun, the smile gone - empty. "Their -need- is going to eat you alive. And you know it. Look around you; It hasn't made a fucking dent, has it? You're holding back the fucking kill-all meteor, and these people are too stupid to walk out of the line of fire." Another pause. "I hate you; And you hate me. That's honest. It's hard, but it's fucking honest. But what the fuck is this place to you anymore?" 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' "I don't make it a habit of hanging out with people I hate." Sigrun says without much emotion to it, leaning back and looking right into Drowned Ophelia's face, "And you don't seem like the type either. Your timing is awfully convenient too, have you been waiting for this? Stalking me?" She reaches for her bow. "Get out of my face." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Yeah. So what? Am I lying?" Laughs the Queen of Tears; Bitter and cold is her voice. She remains seated upon the ground, her bare feet poking out from beneath her dress, knees drawn up. She loops one arm over the leg, clawed fingers dangling loosely as she watches Sigrun. "It's always inevtiable; What you love the most is what kills you. Not bullets, not daggers; Those hurt. And hell, they might end your life. But it's what you love that -kills- you; Empties you out. Leaves you a breathless shell. All I have to do is -wait-; It'll happen to everyone, in the end. And I won't even say 'told you so'." She rises at last, the blackened storm crackling above her - framing pale blue skin, casting her features briefly into shadow - save for the bright whites of her eyes. Clawed hands stretch outwards again, as if offering a hand. "You know what's here. Fuck all. Me, leaving? That won't change what you've found. Maybe it's time you tried something -else-, now. That hurt's never going away - so maybe it's time to just... let go. Let go, and float. Atlas shrugged and all that shit. No one asked you to carry this world." 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun has no answer, at least not for a bit. She goes over what's being said in her mind a few times, and eventually decides she might as well, reaching out for Drowned Ophelia's hand and grasping it firmly. "So what do you propose, then?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Ophelia's clawed hand is cold; Cold as the morgue. Sorrow calls to sorrow alike, to grief and loathing, the stain of that misery flowing down Sigrun's wrist to drip from her elbow; And then twisting in its path. The broken creature's grip tightening, even as she tries to pull Sigrun to her feet. White teeth behind black lips, a cold and empty smile. "Walk with the Doom. See the multiverse. Figure out if any of it's fucking worth the effort - or, maybe.. just maybe.. you'll learn to love your empty, like I did. Nothing can hurt you like you can hurt yourself; When you figure that out, you're going to be surprised at just how strong you really are - and how nothing can fighten you again." Ophelia's tight grip isn't slackening in the least, if Sigrun tries to pull loose - the Black Tears tracking the outside of skin, following veins of warmth back to their source. Sigrun had a taste of sorrow; Now it was time to really break her heart. "Come; Come and drown with me." 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun still doesn't trust Ophelia, and as the grip tightens and that push is made, she tries to pull away. "Walk with you? I'd sooner kill you." But then, then the sorrow really starts to come in and she buckles over, unsure what to do, how to handle what she's feeling. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Needles; Booze and needles, Sorrow's couriers. The little liquid lies that say 'everything is okay' - that you can replace happiness with nihilism, with numbness, that you can empty out the places inside that hurt. Whether that hurt is from the outside; Or the inside. From personal failures, from personal stress, the places we bury all the piled up problems. The place where you save someone from a soul sucking dust pusher - only to find them right there again a week later, their mother crying broken hearted tears in the apartment above. That place where you realize that all you have, all you do, all you are - it won't make a difference in the long run. The shores of dying starfish, the seas of spilt oil, the mounds of dying animals - the poor, the destitute, starving in the street when it'd be so -fucking easy- to fix it all. Just a little effort. Just a little attempt. Just a little change here and there, a few degrees from paradise that will never come. That's what it is that bites its way to the flesh; Needles. Sigrun may feel her heart beat hard, her breath trembling as the Black Tears continue to draw out all the worse. All the bad, all the little sins, all the worse of her. It's a baptism not in water, but in knowledge - NOTHING she did mattered. It's like a dark epiphany. And maybe - maybe those who are getting left behind? Who are refusing to do anything but sit in the mud and scream for help? .. Maybe they deserved it. Maybe they deserve... -more-. 
}}

4458/Children of the Grave

2016-09-29T12:55:52Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/08/24 |Location=Starting Nexus |Synopsis=Aborted Random Scene |Cast of Characters=975, 1008, 1006, 992, 7, 984 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/08/24
|Location=Starting Nexus
|Synopsis=Aborted Random Scene
|Cast of Characters=975, 1008, 1006, 992, 7, 984
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' In ancient times, when an invading force was preparing for battle, it would 'gird its loins'. This was literal, in terms of armor, but also metaphorical; They'd rally. There'd be a final celebration, a chance to reconcile with past grievances for the man who would be shielding your flank. A chance to leave behind lovers with children to carry on your name. In essence, a party, but one of grim proportions. If there's one thing you can say about the Drowning Doom, it's that they love to flip the fucking script. Because this? This is a PARTY. A mosh, a grind, a head jammer, an ear exploder. Sunk so far out in the desert that it could be called a Burning Man, the Drowning Doom's stage lights flare and flash in the air while milling mobs of the crazed undead and the allied (But likely equally crazed) hit hard to the steady heart beat of heavy bass. METAL pounds the air, reverberating, giving power to thumping speakers and swinging spotlights without the need for mortal cables or generators. Vehicles of all sorts are piled haphazardly around, most of them with crackling and rattling engines, fire pouring out of oversized exhaust, blowers howling as they suck in sweet air to feed the flames of Ormogodden's strength. Ghosts scream and cackle, NecroMoshers bounce off one another with sparks, and a general air of good times-bad times. If that wasn't enough of a draw, storm clouds continually circle and thicken above, punctuating cymbal crashes with forks of lightning that leave darkened glass in the dead, bone littered sands. Drowned Ophelia can be seen on occasion, sitting on the edge of the stage - her chin on her fist, eyes bright against the backdrop of her dead blue skin and black tear streaks. Don't call it a soiree. Don't call it a grave. It's the future you fucking choose. Also there's a real good chance they might break loose and get brutal on some civvies neighboring the desert, who fucking knows. If Drowned Ophelia were good at making plans rather than wanting to just share her misery with the multiverse, she'd probably get a lot more done. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Amongst the revelry, another aspect of the drowning dooms march makes itself known. With the slam of a staff and apparent crack of lightning, the agents of Chaos appear. "Always one for a party, aren't we?" Argast asks aloud. while some of his warband simply scoff or laugh in maddened anticipation, the follows of Slaanesh jump right into the moshing. After all, they did follow what amounts to the Prince of Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:''' It takes him back, it really does. Back to the days when humans still walked the earth. This was the sort of thing they played. The sort of music they enjoyed. And as much as Razel acted like he didn't want anything to do with the humans of his world, he really missed them. He'd once been one of them, after all. Perhaps even the many millenia couldn't completely kill the humanity within him...? Pfff. As if. And just why is Razel here? On the off-chance that Drowned Ophelia's party angered some of the natives in the area! He is a beast that feeds on rage, after all. That was the whole reason he'd decided to tag along, after all. The Drowned Lady might look to share her misery with the Multiverse, but there will probably be some people that will take exception to that... He smirks a bit at the display, floating in a partly reclined position in the air. "...Kaltz would have loved this..." he comments, to no one in particular. The smirk widens. No, he knows Kaltz would not have loved this. Despite being the Devil of Grief, he disliked what he had become, and was not so steeped in his Sin that he could enjoy it. But it would have been fun to tease him. Alas. Oh and yes. The partiers might also include some real cat-people, too. Razel's got a handful of minions here too, just in case. And Razel's world, Shisa, contains only Ribika and demons. Ribika are, of course, the proper name of the cat-people that populate his world. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' The Drowning Doom may be comparable the the Burning Man in its ability to drive away people who are not into that kind of festivity. That's about where the similarities end, and Sigrun has been keeping an eye on any news surrounding the doom. The Queen of Tears didn't quite leave the impression that was desired the last time the two met, and Sigrun remains confident that this is something to keep an eye on... ... and to keep the blessed silver on hand when around. So, when she heard of this party, she took the opportunity to close in, just far enough away and just out of the way enough to be little more than a boring speck in the distance, trivial to miss. She's got her eyes on the party, vision augmented by the red rings made of magic floating in front her eyes, rings that focus her vision. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll had only been given life a short time to go but the stiched togehter woman born of the sea of Tears seemed to begetting into things quite a bit. She wore half a ripped black tank top. tight pants and her exposed skin was covered in stiche and very strange occult tattoo work that glowed a faint purple. She didn't seeme dto be in a bad mood she was in quite a good one as she hung out around Drowned Ophelia and smirked a bit. "My Lady, so soon we shall make the rest suffer as we have...." Though there was a very odd things this strange patchwork woman looked a hell of a lot of like and /sounded/ just like Kotone Yamakwa. 

:'''{{#var:984|Karal Rei Lin (984)}} has posed:''' Through happenstance, one oddball warrior was passing through a desert town when the strangeness happened. One thing lead to another. Old ladies proclaiming about evil omens and a few jumpy fortune tellers was enough that...     ... ... that one person has actually taken the omen seriously and... gone to investigate. Despite it being way out in the desert.     Karal Rei Lin has perched herself on a dune overlooking the... incredible party. A kind so alien to her sensibilities she's not even sure this noise qualifies as music, for all it has a thumping beat she can FEEL through the sand, in her bones.     Damn what a beat. Against her better judgement she fidgets to the beat, fingers tapping at the sand...     All the while, she scans the goings-on with a pair of binoculars that just don't mesh with the fantastic old world getup she's wearing...     "What in heaven's name IS this gathering? Some... freaky... war dance?" She can just gape. It's all she can do is gape, worry, and wonder. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' If Razel was a rage leech, he'd be getting a fucking feast of Drowned Ophelia. She -reeked- of it; A deep, hateful, hurtful loathing tainting every move, every glance. The black claws twitching when Agrias appears, the brittle white smile for the chaos wizard. "Called it a study in suicide; Everything in the universe will grow cold and empty before I'm done. So if nothing matters, might as well fucking enjoy myself, right?" The cold laughter of the Queen of Tears, before she stands up. The ichor of Black Tears pouring from her, a strange ectoplasm somewhere between liquid and smoke - forming clothing, forming claws, forming every bit of her essence, right down to her literal stone heart. The Slaneesh will at least enjoy themselves; Smash a NecroMosher to pieces, and the undead freaks just pull themselves back together and smash back. Can't spell violence without love, after all, and who doesn't love a good thrashing? And then there's Flesh Doll. The stolen bits of Yokone, sewn together with Ophelia's hair and flooded in sorrow; The flesh always remembers its scars, after all. Clawed fingers stretch out, brushing briefly along the bizaare creature's shoulder. "Yeah... they'll hurt. They'll hurt just like we do, won't they? And you're gonna find that bitch who stole you away. And take it all back." Black tears roll down Ophelia's cheek, claw trembling briefly. "We're gonna fucking hurt them all." She stands up, quite suddenly, the Six Stringed Sorrow bubbling into existance in her claws. A look of mad glee on her face as she picks up the pace of the song. The METAL responds, hammering drums picking up the pace quite suddenly, the whole DEATH PARTY gaining momentum as the undead freaks, cats, chaos warriors and miscellanous respond. Those in the know? They show the ultimate respect to Ormogeddon, the Cremator of the Sky: They throw horns with finger and pinky outstretched. THEMESONG CHANGE: 'Thus Spake The Nightspirit' - Emperor. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EklLgmAYFBg Firepots explode along the stage, heading towards the center - and when it reaches, glowing skeletal horses leap forth. The Reapers. Ridden by classic robed skeletons, who cackle and scream as they stampede through the scrambling crowd, and out to the desert itself. Leaning forward as they laugh in their mad, deaf forward momentum. "It's time for a fucking -distraction-." Declares the Queen of Tears, gesturing with her clawed hands. "Catch the Reaper and keep the skull; Winner gets the town over there.." She flicks a clawed finger dismissively towards the distant lights of the desert town with it's old women and evil omens. 'Heads' up, Sigrun and Rei! Looks like the Reapers are scattering outwards into the desert - and some are heading for both of you. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast smirks as his slaaneshi warriors bash into the undead, and watch them knit back together. "A little distraction could be fun..." He says. With a snap of his finger emerges his hellsteed. A horse of black fur, but with flames burning from it's hooves, nostrils, eyes and tail. "Maybe I'll offer the town to Tzeench..I am sure that the changer of fate will enjoy having new souls..." He says with an evil laugh. But after that, he mounts up and takes off. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Incoming is never fun, but Sigrun isn't too concerned, just yet. She's a stalker, a skulk, and the desert is an area she's all too familiar with for that kind of thing. She activates some passive spells to guide her steps, to help her stick to areas where she's likely to to be unseen. She hasn't yet heard what Ophelia commanded, but she can tell trouble is brewing, and she needs to know more before she acts. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:''' Oh yes, the feast from Drowned Ophelia is the main motivating factor. Her parties are quite loud, and finding one isn't hard. Add to that the fact that Opehlia's rage herself is to Razel practically the way that silly cartoon mouse is to the smell of cheese. Such a banquet of wrath! This may explain why Razel's reclining so-- he's probably feeling quite relaxed due to being full. He doesn't even have to be active in collecting it (which Ophelia would probably very much dislike); just hanging around her is enough; passively absorbing it is enough. When Ophelia stands and summons her guitar into existence, the cats do know something's about to happen. Though they emulate the gesture more then understand it. Looks like ears to them, so it makes sense! The challenge is issued... and the cats all look to Razel. When he nods, they shriek in glee and go chasing too. They're not aware of anyone out in the desert just yet. So chasing some of those Reapers are several cat people! They leap and dart back and forth like something with the strength and agility of a cat. But there's a fire burning in their eyes, both literally and figuratively-- a mad gleam, and some may literally have flames coming from their eyes. Male and female both, dressed in black and dark, bloody red, their faces covered so only their burning eyes and their black ears and tail poke out. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Dool was in good spirits as others would start appearing osme might be allies othere were not, and she had no idea but she didn't care she did notice the followers of Chaos here and gave no damna about it, if they wanted to roll with them? The more the better to make those who'd wronged them suffer like they should. "Pain is what let you know you actually exist, they should be thankful for that don't you think and I'll get back what was /stolen/ from me. I will be whole again." The show then really takes off and she head bangs along with the music until the ueen barks out some orders. "A hunt it is? Then shall we?" With out waiting Flesh Doll bolts off un the hunt for Sigrun and Rei. She was going to enjoy this as she pulled her wepaon which looked like some sort of Arcanite Ripper. 

:'''{{#var:984|Karal Rei Lin (984)}} has posed:''' Oooooooooooh boy. BAD THINGS ARE APPROACHING... and headed straight for town. WHAT should she do?! Even for her, with sunlight burning in her veins, yearning for glory... ready to smite the darkness and teach it to FEAR and RESPECT the living, sink into the peace of Lethe...     Sheeeee's not so sure she can take this many. Or what would happen if a fight started. On the other hand....     On the other hand, SOME ARE COMING RIGHT HER WAY...     And that way lies a town.     The redhead grimaces, but plants both hands in the dunetop and forces herself up, tucking the binoculars away...     She's breathing hard, holding in panic and fear. But at the same time...     RUNNING AWAY now and letting this just happen... is unthinkable. A waste of the gift she was given... a betrayal of it.     So she rises up to her full height and raises a hand towards the skies.     DAWN'S RADIANT LIGHT springs into existence from her palms, burning bright like a torch through the gloom. Liquid light gathers and congeals, shaping into a slightly curved... yes, it's a sword. Resembles a katana, but heavier built, slightly longer.     And it's not the only thing giving off that light. The gloom's been banished across the ENTIRE DUNETOP by the filmy white-gold corona of light lazily swirling around Karal Rei Lin's body. Naturally, a sunburst mark shines on her forehead...     "Turn around and take your party a different direction!" She warns the approaching skeletons in a thunderous voice. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia's chin rises, that cold little smirk working its way across her features as the DETH PARTY begins their pursuit of the Reapers. Sacrifice her own units for a brief amusement? Why not! It's not like she held some deep love in her for their well being, b-baka. No, she really didn't. Narcissitic nihilism - only her pain mattered. And if she was going to hurt, sure as hell everything around her was going to hurt just as much. The smile fades as the Reapers spread out and the ravagers give chase. Skeletal hooves pound the sand, glowing trails left like neon lights through the stormy gloom, chased by a chaos wizard, crazed wrath-induced cat folks and a Black Tear empowered echo of a better woman. The Reapers had a good head start, the skeletal horses snorting cold steam into the air - but it's only a matter of time before the rest of the party can catch up and tear them to pieces. For their skulls, of course. A few leap boldly over Sigrun as she lays prone, practically invisible beneath her concealing spells. Arms swing outwards, massive glowing scythes held in hand as they wheel in a long circle around. Mad skeletal grins do not waver, nor do the headphones on their skulls - keeping the pounding rhythm of DEATH METAL rattling in their brain case. It was a thrash, after all! Which is when someone PRAISES THE FUCKING SUN HOLY SHIT. The Queen of Tears puts a hand up and over her face as she squints into the sudden bright light, like a radiant torch on the hillside while thunderous clouds twist above her. The people of the town behind taking the cue to start evacuating - she may not hold forever, but she may be able to hold -long enough-. Which is when Drowned Ophelia claws begin striking the chords again, something dark and grim, hair trailing over her face as she leans forward. The guitar practically at her knees as she plays, the storm clouds above her thickening and twisting upwards; She's preparing something big juuuust for the exalted... "Looks like we've got a -hero-" She begins, practically spitting the word with distaste. That cold little smile crossing her features. "New game - bring her up front and we'll let that bright bitch drink deep of our hate.." 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast was charging forward until he saw the massive sun appear from nowhere. He turned his steed around and grinned. "I have been curious how this transformation occurs." He muses softly. In his hand, he gathers up winds of magic for a fireball. "To see the bright sun fall dark....How poetic. Surely Tzeench will approve." 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:''' Razel's attention is drawn by that sudden flare of light atop the dune. And just as quick he has to look away. Not for the brightness, no. Because it's PURE, and the only thing 'pure' about him is how corrupted he is! It hurts to look at! Several of the approaching cats have to shade their burning eyes from the light. Razel shifts to 'stand', though still floating. He moves to Ophelia's side as she points out the 'hero'. "But it's a fine word to carve on someone's tombstone, isn't it?" he remarks with a smirk. And then Ophelia changes the rules of the game. He nods, and then says quietly, "...Put out that light. And the one holding it." Somehow the cats hear. They break off chasing the skeletons and try to make a circle around Karal Rei Lin. Like earth cats hunting together, each is trying to cover a flank that another can't. They don't attack just yet, but they're positioning themselves. Places to hide might be a bit scarce around here, but if there are any, they're finding them, seeming to disappear to normal sight. These cats are used to hunting. And they do possess the hunter's instinct, like an earth cat. These are small-type cats, too... the ones that are well-known to their love of playing with and torturing their catch... Flesh Doll might find herself with some allies, too! There's a couple of Razel's minions near her, one on either side. They're giving her plenty of room, though, since her weapon looks bloody dangerous. Most of these cats possess only metal claws over their fingertips or swords. But they're strong and fast, not just naturally, but strengthened by their worship of Razel. For the time being Sigrun is left alone by Razel's minions, as she's not doing anything to interfere at the present. Also her spells seem to be keeping her well-hidden from the eyes, noses, and ears of the Wrath Cats for now. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun keeps hiding until she's clear, and then decides to take a gamble. If things are going to turn into a fight, well... she's got some arrows with a particular drowned lady's proverbial name on it. She sneaks towards a good spot, still keeping up the magics that help her hide away from the enemy. Then she aims, that magically hardened silver arrow, blessed by a priest, is aimed for the queen of tears, for that frozen heart Sigrun knows so well can melt given the right incentives. When it flies, it flies swiftly, guided by magical winds that speed it up and direct its path, without ever going fast enough to cause a noise louder than a gentle whistle. This is still quite fast, easily enough to pierce an inch of steel. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Okay so Flesh Doll wasn't after Rei and Sigrun. She didn't even know they were there, to be perfectly honest about things. he wanted to catch the target and get the reward but there would be something else she was not expecting here as she comes towards the bruning light that is Karal Rei Lin. "Oh really and what are you going to do about it if we don't?" She smiles and it'sd not a king one at the Exalted which has got in their way. 

:'''{{#var:984|Karal Rei Lin (984)}} has posed:''' Ooooh this looks BAD. Pretty damned bad.     Lin grinds her teeth TIGHTLY enough one wonders why they're not shedding sparks. But she drops smoothly into a warrior's stance, moving the torch-like blade to her side as though sheathing it. A sword-drawing stance if ever there was one.     Approaching her is peril. This becomes incredibly, terrifyingly clear to those circling, looking for an opening... a vulnerability.     For another swordswoman, there might be. For this one though...     Her simple stance contains a certain ASSUREDNESS, a thoroughness that reaches past the merely physical. She's not just ready for a tussle, but ready in eight directions.     And every time those passing behind contemplate darting in... whatever warrior instincts they have tingle with vicious mental images of drawing an instant reaction.     There's no opening to take advantage of here. The front is as good as the back as the top or bottom.     "Heh. I'll show you the results of my last month of training, that's what." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia's arched back begins to straighten as she plays, eyes closed; Lightning licks along her fingers, dancing from string to string of her vicious spider-bodied guitar, the blue wake candles burning as bright as torches. At Razel's words, she cackles loudly, her hair drawn out and fanning around her in a wind all her own. "Oh, she won't rest when I'm done; I'm going to count every. Fucking. Bubble. That slips past her lips..." The sound suddenly steadies out and jumps to a higher octave as Ophelia finishes straightening up - and begins leaning back, eyes flicking up to the clouds above. The storm clouds roll and twist upwards, an inverse tornado - before they begin to break. It's not warm sunlight - but cold, freezing moonlight that comes through. And not Earth's moon either, the wine stains forming the iconography of the top half of a grinning skull. Oh yes, Ophelia learned -lots- from visiting Stygian MIrror's world. DEATH METAL hammers away, drawing the BRUTAL MOON's image from the sky. For even the sun must be eclipsed! It is an unholy and wicked thing she is forming, and it's sure to push some shit in. But just as she's reaching the crescendo of her solo, ready to shatter the aegis of LIGHT with the kiss of ENCOMPASSING GLOOM, the Six Stringed Sorrow lit up like a live wire - That Sigrun strikes. The Six Stringed Sorrow shatters like glass, the METAL stumbling and subliming without the direct hand of the Queen of Tears upon it. It was only luck she twisted when she did, a gaping hole torn from her side - and from it, black ichor pumps, smoking as if touched by acid. And Drowned Ophelia shrieks her rage, and her hate. "YOU! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Yeah. She's distracted. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Oh, and the clouds close back over the BURUTAL MOON, the freezing rays of its touch disappearing once more behind the crackling storm. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast laughs and hurls his fireballs towards Karal. "Come then, Hero! Face the speaker of Tzeench! Let chaos devour you!!" He screams out. His horse roars out with a demonic cry, and his warband roar in sheer revel and abandon. Chaos did enjoy it's parties like this. 

:'''{{#var:1006|Razel (1006)}} has posed:''' The cats surrounding Lin are indeed smart enough to realize that somehow, she's got all her own sides covered. How? It doesn't really matter. Ther hunters' instincts are strong enough to know not to approach yet. No, while they don't attack, they seem to pace like great tigers around her, in chaotic ways. Their own rage is pretty clearly felt even by those not capable of feeling the magic that binds them to Razel. Speaking of the ol' Rage Leech, Razel's standing near enough to Ophelia that he notes the sudden change in her posture when the arrow strikes her guitar. And it won't take him long to realized what just happened. Particularly not when the Drowned Lady shrieks so angrily, her guitar disappearing. Her rage is delicious, it really is, but if he lets those heroes take her down, she might not be around to feed him for much longer. So he looks back out to where the arrow came from, not quite finding the source from where he is. "...Find it." Suddenly both the cats surrounding Lin and the ones flanking Flesh Doll all but disappear. They scamper into the dunes to find the source of the arrow. Be careful Sigrun... they may not have found the girl yet, but they're definitely looking, and with the senses of a cat. Any movement should be theirs, any scent, any sound. Then again they're not counting on magical spells covering her presence... 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flesh Doll looked aat Karla as she made ready with her axe like wepapon as she moved in. "Train all you want, in the end you know the fate of all that lives. You can try to out run it but the predator will always make the kill. Hopefully today it will wrap you in it's jaws and consume you." Flesh Doll Note as she then rushs at Karal to attack her with the very heavy weapon. However she doesn't seem that skilled... 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' That's part of the problem of sharpshooting while behind enemy lines. The enemy will start hunting for you as soon as they realize you're there, and you don't have anywhere to securely fall back to. Sigrun is well aware of that problem, and she'd already been moving to another spot by the time her arrow reached. Still, she has to be extra careful, even when she pulls out a regular arrow, nocks it and aims. This time, it's for the commander-like figure looking her way. This time, she's not going quiet. Partially across the way, an flying towards Razel's neck is speeding up past the speed of sound, the shockwave enhanced by magic, to an effect like a localized explosion going off near some of the drowned and other various evil minions. Then it slows down just enough to allow it to repeat that trick. It does this twice more, and it remains fast enough none of these shockwaves can be heard before the arrow comes. 

:'''{{#var:984|Karal Rei Lin (984)}} has posed:''' Lin frowns at the Flesh Doll's display of skill. The weird-looking weapon's something to be sure, but-- "I've seen toads with better jaws than these!" The Exalt howls in retort, unimpressed by the Flesh Doll's show of 'skill.'     Expertly Lin twirls her weapon out to parry, apparently feeling fancy enough to waste that little bit of extra time! Despite the undead strength brought to bear she expertly grounds herself and transfers it into the sand... and instead makes use of Flesh Doll's incoming momentum by driving her knee forward towards the stitched creature's gut with tremendous force and precision.     Would probably be a better tactic if the dead needed to breathe, though.     Unfortunately this leaves her vulnerable to the fireballs! They start pelting her in the back, scorching her clothing and flesh and knocking her off-kilter. Whether or not her blow lands on the Flesh Doll, she's forced to dive to the side and enter a leaping dash manuever circling around to reposition...     "You dead who linger to torture the living are an ABOMINATION. All life moves towards rebirth, not this torturous existence you're holding onto!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Scene cut short because of RL! More words to match the required word count. 
}}

4356/From The Depths

2016-09-29T12:54:54Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/07/25 |Location=Earth-<GITS> |Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia steals the medical remains of Kotone. This results in the creation of Flesh Doll later...."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/07/25
|Location=Earth-<GITS>
|Synopsis=Drowned Ophelia steals the medical remains of Kotone. This results in the creation of Flesh Doll later.
|Cast of Characters=7, 975, 1008, 972, 906, 673, 598, 42, 1023, 1017
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Earth - 2039 Japan City of New Port Over a Decade ago? Tokyo was ravaged by nuclear fire, and the city was abandoned to the elements for a time. New Port surged and became a major hub even as the reclaiming and rebuilding of Tokyo continues to this day. It's a high tech place were the majority of the population have brain implants if not more parts of their bodies replaced with Cybernetic's. The city is bright bustling and very laid out as it's less than a half century old free of dealing with layouts from other eras. A light rain is coming down this evening even as people return from work and head out for the night. On the edge of the artificial island is a medical waste processing and storage plant. It also holds certain items for law enforcement that they can't easily store in a standard evidence lock-up. Kotone is here spending a rare night at her home and garage there in New Port going over some paper work for her bike production business which has got some notice from the recent race she was in. Also of note on this world wireless signals are /everywhere/ and the Bandwidth you can get is pretty nuts for a society that doesn't have FTL yet. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It began - with a sound. A rippling drumbeat that pulses the slick night near the medical waste facility. The storm clouds above begin a slow and lazy spiral, one that might worry storm watches - but who the hell pays attention to the world around when the world within is so much more fascinating? Lightning strikes - and strikes again. And again. A flickering chorus of energy hitting the same spot in the nearest side road over and over, hissing as it grounds itself with faint droplets of molten tar. There it seems to crouch, feeding off a single point of space before it -taints-. Twisting, as the air splits slowly open, the portal framed by a crackling chorus of energy. CHAOS MAGIC! But something else. Intertwinned, feeding into the chaos is DEATH METAL, a driving drumbeat and a hard thrashing chorus. The portal opens fully, like a threading needle from the nearest gateway, and there reveals - DROWNED OPHELIA! Supporting Wyrdseeker's powers with her own Dead Gods, the wake candles of the Six Stringed Sorrow flaring to blue life, her head drooping forward. Swaying with the music of METAL, beautiful fucking METAL. "I can't hold it for long!" She cackles madly, as her strings burn white hot, smoke rising from her clawed finger tips. THEMESONG: 'Only For The Weak', In Flames - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qnLunQEcMn0 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast laughs softly as the magic and metal combined and tore open a portal to the waste facility. "Ahh....to feel the flow of magic and metal combining...how chaotic. "He says with an evil grin. He steps through and holds the portal open for Ophelia to follow through, as well as his warband of undivided warriors. "I do hope that we meet some...opposition. My magic is not yet exhausted." He muses. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Somewhere in the dark sky, an unidentified flying object is moving through the sky. Wait, make that four unidentified flying objects surrounding one girl wearing red and white. The girl in question could only be Reimu Hakurei, who promptly looks down at the two arrivals before groaning,      "Ugh, every time I decide to go outside my home, this happens!" She merely shakes her head as she glances at the four red and white orbs surrounding her. She holds her gohei in her left hand and flies directly over to the pair and the four red and white orbs begin to unleash a barrage of glowing red needles directly toward both Drowned Ophelia and Argast Wyrdseeker. As they streak through the air, they leave a red trail in their wake. 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     Welp... That crazy woman is at it again. "Guess she didn't get the hint last time."     Yang sits astride her motorcycle, looking through binoculars at the distant thunderstorm rolling in. She had only been passing through, but the distant sound of DETH METAL and the gathering unnatural stormclouds caught the Huntress in training's attention. "Yang to Union... got a problem over in New Port, Earth - 2039. Moving to investigate, requesting backup." She clicks the radio to receive mode, puts her helmet back on then wheelies and guns the engine, roaring down towards the source of the coming storm. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' MILITARY RADIO FREQUENCY on Kotone's Earth is one of the few things that will get Rory's immediate attention. The satellite she put in orbit can't tell who's sending what, given the incredibly encryption involved... but it doesn't need to. The onboard AI flags this as a priority alert and relays a signal back to its owner, while simultaneously beginning a torrential flood of connections to other satellites to hijack internet access (it has long since had enough time to sniff such traffic) and link into every data net in the area of the freak thunderstorm. Any webcam, for instance!     Further out in space, the COGNIZANT ODYSSEY arrives in a ripple-whoosh of Faster Than Light travel. It decelerates into high orbit.     For now... Rory works on observation. Can't deploy to solve problems if you don't know what those problems are! 

:'''{{#var:598|Lezard Valeth (598)}} has posed:''' Nearby the chaos, on one of the tall, neon-studded buildings, a circle of light draws itself in the growing storm. with a surge of forgotten magics, a shape fades into view, looking over the brewing conflict in this place of technology with a measuring gaze. Behind him, his cloak flares in the wind, the Necromancer of Midgard seeing the immediate respose they gather. "Hmm hmm." He emits, his glasses reflecting the lash of lightning from the freak thunderstorm brewing. "I wonder how this will resolve..." Besides the magical entrance, however, Lezard seems content to observe Ophelia and Argent encounter the Union resistance forces. Either he sees this as a test, or he's simply confident that they can handle it. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' The Thunderstorm is out of nowhere to be sure, and luckly for most of the staff at the Medical Waste Centre? They are closed and thus there's very few on sight however a security android does take notice of the unatual weather and contacts security. Then comes the portal looking at it. "Halt, this is private property, please leave or the police will be called." Though it may be hard ot tell that it's an android it looks like at worse some sort of local cyborg. Kotone has several programs to watch news feeds for very strange happenings by her world's standards, andone of them pings her. She sighs rises up from her desk. Goes to put on her riding suit, and soon is on her Knight speeding into the night for the center of the strange storm. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia pulls her smoking clawed hands away from the glowing strings, blowing on them as she grimaces. The Six Stringed Sorrow held loosely by the neck as she 'enters' this world proper, aided by the twisted Sorcerer. A faint, mocking smile plays across her pale blue features as she closes her eyes and turns her face towards the water coming from above. A broken giggle escaping her as she spreads wide her arms, spinning briefly, water plastering her ebon hair against her forehead. "Oh, there'll be plenty. Like drops in the rain.." Even as her FREAKS begin to exit the port as well, a force to accompany the Unified Chaos. The tangled balls of hair and disembodied heads that are the Fright Wigs looping out long tresses as they climb and clamber like spiders. A Rat Gut, belly swollen with the metamorphesis to courier, giggling and drooling to himself as he rubs his bloated middle. And, of course, a Bride - mist coiling around her ankles as she gingerly steps over the precipe, her ghostly pale form glowing in the night. And then Reimu's throwing shit. The rain of red needles pierces the Queen of Tears, who hisses in pain as she's drawn from her reverie. Snarling upwards, she points a single blackened claw. ".. Fly, my pretties! Bring the bitch down." The Fight Wigs -LEAP- into the air, looking to tangle and drag Reimu down! The Rat Gun, meanwhile, wobbles and giggles to himself as the Android approaches and bespeaks of police. "Police? Oh! Rats.." He burps. Belches. And then blackened hoardes of inky rats pour out of his mouth, tiny crimson eyes and a wave of teeth as they seek to surround - cover - and devour poor fellow. The Bride, meanwhile, hums a little wedding ditty as the storm grows louder and wilder above her. Lighting flickering all around, grounding against rooftops and walls alike - but focused especially on the door to the Medical Waste facility. Drowned Ophelia flowing forward, her Six Stringed Sorrow still hissing with heat in the rain. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Of course, when people start coming through a LIGHTNING PORTAL, and everyone's eyes can take pictures, it starts blowing up on social media.     This is exactly the kind of thing the newly formed Daedalus Initiative's AIs watch out for. They may not be widespread yet, but you better believe they'd start with watching their founding members' worlds! So, Staren's quickly alerted, and starts suiting up immediately, making plans with his fellow TDI members. He passes on what Sigrun told him about Ophelia's weakness to silver, for instance.     Staren teleports onto Rory's ship. It's faster than taking warpgates, and besides, he needs to pick something up -- he grabs a couple of magazines of silver rounds, loading one into an assault rifle. If he sees Rory in her morph, he gives her a friendly nod -- otherwise, he just waves at one of the cameras before he uses her ship's teleporter to deploy.     A beam of red light shoots down from the sky, landing down the street from the lightning portal and resolving into Staren, suited up in obvious futuristic armor and holding the rifle, which probably attracts its own share of attention. If any civilians are still gawking, he shouts, "Get out of here!" There's already no time for talking. He was planning to shoot Ophelia, but this is a rather... target-rich environment. He raises one arm, firing a couple of beam cannon shots at the fight wigs, then puts his hand back on the trigger and fires a 3-round silver burst Ophelia's way. He can't focus her like he'd like, though -- already, there's a rat swarm to deal with! He moves away from it, one of his shoulder racks popping into position and firing a missile. Instead of a conventional explosion, it superheats the air, trying to turn the rats into charcoal. The android isn't sapient, so it's regrettable but acceptable collateral damage if it turns out it can't take the heat. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' Far, far away, on the beach near Beach City, Steven considers musical things. "Maybe some time I'll go to a live concert of that loud music Mom liked..." Lion nudges Steven onto his back, roars and takes off. The roar opens a magical portal to somewhere loud and chaotic, and before Steven can even say, "Wait!" they are through the portal! The preteen riding a pink Lion appears from a portal in the streets of New Port, in the midst of a chaotic storm echoing loud heavy metal music through the air. Confused but also excited, he looks down at Lion. "Is this a concert? Hey, a laser light show! Wow, let's go find the stage!" 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast smirks as he hears that and offers his hand towards Ophelia as she walks through the portal. Ever the gentleman, even if he follows Tzeench, the eternal changer and deciever. Though as heroes arrive, the sorceror smiles under his helmet. "So it would seem. Warband, go forth! Spread terror and chaos in your gods names!" He then slams his staff into the ground and calls upon the winds of magic to summon forth flaming geysers from the ground. 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     Flame Geysers... it just HAD to be Flame Geysers.     Yang banks hard, weaving through the sudden hazards in her path. She rears her cycle up, using it as a battering ram before slamming the wheels into some poor Chaos Warrior's entire everything, and using him as a ramp to launch herself up and over the melee.     From there, she jabs a few buttons, giving AI control to the computer, before she backflips off of her ride, rolling in midair as energy seems to flow into the barrel of her right gauntlet. She aims down for Argast, and with a sudden burst of vertical speed, aims to slam her fist into him from above, followed by a shotgun blast of kinetic energy. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      The four orbs immediately move behind the young miko and from the sides, they immediately unleash red talismans directly toward the wigs. The talismans appear to be aimed directly toward the disheveled disembodied heads of hair. Considering that they were made to deal away evil spirits, it shouldn't be too difficult to figure out that those would severely harm the heads, or possibly destroy them outright. In the process, Reimu swerves well out of the way of the heads but she doesn't really have time to process this.      Especially considering that the flame geysers appear to rise out from nowhere and manage to reach high enough in the air to where she has to avoid the giant gushes of flame. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' A beam of blue light (why did it change color?) follows the one that disgorges Staren, followed by several white ones. they all spear down about fifty feet away from where Staren appeared. Rory White materializes, loaded into her Flexbot. At first glance, a humanoid robot... but criss-crossed and zigzagged by what seem to be mechanical seams. It has no hair, and a feminine face that would look perfectly human if it wasn't made of metal.     Four 'DRAGONFLY' model drones beam down next, meter-long shells held aloft by powerful turbofans mounted in its many wings. They do indeed resemble giant dragonflies... except these 'dragonflies' are bearing plenty of weapon mounts. Small missile racks, what look like laser turrets...     They take off in no time.     Rory's Muse works at getting in contact with law enforcement and emergency services to give them a feed and all the info they can get. Also probably a warning about how dangerous these monsters are. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' Steven watches the pyrotechnics with a sense of awe, excitement filling his eyes. "Wow, no wonder Mom loved this music! It's so exciting!" Hopping off Lion, he ignores the big cat's grumblings, and starts running toward the show as fast as his little legs will take him! Lion, for his part, follows and watches with a deceptively relaxed demeanor. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "MY BABIES!" Screams the Rat Gut as his pretties are burnt to a crisp. He falls to his knees, scrabbling at the ground, the melted remnants of the black rats. There are no charred corpses - just tiny piles of blackened wisp where once they stood. Them and the former android, of course. The flabby bellied freak sobs uncontrollably, weeping in the rain as he tries to scrape the miasma back to his mouth. "My baby?" Coos the Bride, as MOTHERFUCKING STEVEN UNIVERSE makes the scene atop a pink lion. The ghostly creature stretching out a skeletal hand in white silk glove, her eyes glowing behind the veil. "Oh, sweetie, where have you been? Come here.. come home.." She -floats-, feet not touching the ground as she glides towards Steven, the storm re-centering about her. A faint, freezing mist rolling from her very person - clinging to all around it. Like ethereal fingers. Sound grows faint, as does sight, and even movement feels slowed and sluggish if one is affected. The curse of the Bride! Fright Wigs fall and burn, crashing to the ground as tendrils of hair writhe about. To say it's a creepy sight is a bit of an understatement. Drowned Ophelia herself is slammed aside as silver bullets rip through her substant form. Black ichor splatters the wall behind her as she curls in on herself, her hair drooping across her features - before she snaps her gaze up. Eyes wide and white, teeth gritted. ".. You want to play heroes?" "Fine. Let's see just how many people you can save." She turns her claws once more to the Six Stringed Sorrow, the air growing dark around her. She plays a short, hard, thrashing line And fog POURS out from around her. It rolls out of the very air, solid as soup. But it's not just fog - it's fog stolen from the swamps of Avatar world, infused with the deceitful nature of that curious creation. DROWNED DOOM SOLO - VEIL OF DECEIT The small raid force that remains seemingly multiplies - faint shades that swim in and out of the fog. Some are illusionanl - others are very, very real. And they are all splitting off in different directions, sound and even sense swallowed. Heading to 'keep the heroes' occupied, with the faint crashes of glass and screams of fright. "Keep the fuckers busy!" Drowned Ophelia calls, as she -melts- .. omething between smoke and liquid - the ectoplasmic Black Tears as they slip around the Rat Gut, and pour into his open mouth as he gurgles in surprise. Belly widens - and MORE rats are expelled. But this time? Controlled by a single will as they scramble towards cracks and crevices in the Medical Waste Building. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argasts warrior is struck and sent into a nearby building, and buried under some rubble. While effectively taken out of the fight, that just made his fellows angry. Amongst the warriors, badges for the 4 gods of chaos can be seen proudly displayed, and easily picked up by anyone with a camera or smart computer. Of course, that doesn't stop the rampaging warband of chaos undivided going for police, and acting like a screen for the Rat Gut and the Fright Wigs. One slaneesh follower offers a smile towards the Bride, and even steps aside. "After you, my dear." He says.     Argast himself is struck by both the punch and kinetic discharge, sending him back a fair bit. His armor manages to take the blow, smoke eminating from the impact site. "Not bad. You possess a unique weapon. One I would very much like to know more about. I can accomplish that by removing it from your arms..though it would be such a shameful waste. You have far too much potential..." He muses to Yang, trying to use his natural talents to decieve her into joining him. But just in case that failed, he was focusing magic into his staff again, but not for fire. Rather, he suddenly seemed to be fading into the shadows. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' The nan? dioesn't screma but react by pulling his weapon which is a staser of some sort. He tries to take them out butit gets no where werhe and soon he's ripped par but he's not bleeding red, he let out no cries of pain, a strange white flyuid spurts from where one might expect blood, also there is no meat on this man, thebody is naught but metal and other materials. Asthings are getting insane Kotone can see the pillars of flame and she brings her motorcyle to a halt, she's not /that/ well armed but she's always hid a weapon in her bike she takes into the multiverse. She takes the pistol froms aid comparmntand braenly races in. She has no idea why there's a kid here but lowers the weapon and look at Steven with great concern. "This ... isn't a concernt you shouldn't be here, it's dangerou." A chill goes down her spine as well she's concerned about something happening to the boy. This may leave Kotone open to being blind sided by the hostile forces here and there's just this feeling of fear here. She's not sure why but then she take sight of the chaos agent here and worse there's even more otehrs here. "What the hell?" Then Drowned Ophelia is trying to lure Steven in. "... She's bad news and she looks like a relic of the 80s..." She tries to move to get between her and Steven. No she has no idea that Steven is far more powerful than she is. Inside the Medical waste faculty one would find that a number of hazmat coninaers labled with scan codes and some with names. One might have the note Kotone Yamakawa and a court case number. There's also a note indicating it's to be disposed of as the trial is over with and it's no longer needed. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' Rose was there to investigate the 'music' and pyrotechnics. She hadn't meant to go there to fight. But unlike Steven, she's had thousands of years of experience, and knows a battle when she sees one. She was about to say something when she saw the Bride reach out towards Steven. She still isn't sure about him being her son, but she knows a skeletal woman reaching for her little boy is bad news. She takes a grand old leap into the air, a quartet of rose-shaped cannons popping into existence around her. She aims down at the bride with a ferocious expression on her face. "KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY SON!" she bellows. Four brilliant bolts of rose-colored light spring forth from the laser cannons, exploding into Rose Quartz and Rose Shaped beams, searing down out of the sky. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Reimu manages to get through the pillars of flame, but she immediately turns to where she expects to see Argast and Drowned Ophelia, only for the two to have gotten away. She sighs as she can clearly see the large crowd of shades that are moving through the air. She grins as the four orbs resume their position behind her and continue to unleash homing talismans directly toward the shades that are flying through the air. The talismans also aim for the unseen shades as well, but while she can keep the fog shades busy, everyone else will have to deal with the rats at the bottom. While the homing talismans are great for taking on many things at once, even they have a limit. 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     "Damn right I have potential, the potential to kick your ass!" replies Yang as she cycles the next shell into place with a practiced setting of her stance. The darkening shadow surrounding the Sorcerer gets a smirk from the brawler. "Too scare to fight me?" she asks, before she punches again... surely she can't hit from that far away? The kinetic blast was a point blank effect!     Of course she can hit from that far away, as a pair of unstable energy balls fling from the blonde's fists, aimed low to strike the ground. They explode like hand grenades on impact, sending out waves of heat and kinetic force. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' Steven finds himself bubbled by his own power, as the concert turns into a battle?! This wasn't what he wanted, people might get hurt! The creepy ghost zombie lady calls out to him and that weird mist spreads, clinging to his bubble like some sort of gross slime, while some woman on a motorcycle yell something he can't hear over the music still screeching through the air. Afraid to unbubble and go help because that mist looks *nasty*, he hesitates until the chaos magnifies with beams of Rose laser he would recognize fill the air in front of him. "Mom!" 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast's position is drilled and the explosion kicks up smoke. After it clears, nothing remains, not even shadows. "That has yet to be seen..." He says, stepping from the shadows. Although it was not only one 'Argast' but multiple. "Did you think Fire was all I possessed?" He asks, almost tauntingly. Moments later, the Argasts and his illusions burst forth. Each had drawn their sword and aimed it for Yang, testing her ability to pick the real chaos sorceror out. 

:'''{{#var:673|Rory White (673)}} has posed:''' Through some combination of luck or just good placement, Rory and her forces go unmolested by the Drowning Doom minions. Which is good.     IT gives her a chance to observe, and analyze. Up above the battlefield, the DRAGONFLIES are unaffected by the fog. Having no minds of their own, their sensors are not fooled. But they have little firepower to offer, as they can't see INTO the fog too well... those readings are helter-skelter, for the cold nature of the Bride's mist fouls up thermal cameras that could otherwise penetrate the fog.     Rory would frown intensely, but she has no reason to waste energy on expressions. Instead a silent order is given: FIRE!     Two of the Dragonflies open fire with a rain of MINI-MISSILES that swoop for the distant Rat Gut based on last known position... 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     Yang is still only learning how to sense energy levels from those around her, but that sense is just enough to pick out a strong source from weaker ones. The brawler lifts her arms to intercept one blade, letting it clank against the metal and flare her Aura a bright orange-yellow that washes across her body as it spreads the impact like a good quality anti-ballistic vest does to a bullet. "Did you think I couldn't see through your little ruse?" she counters, parrying the blade aside, before aiming a punch at the sorcerer's sword hand. The strike did a lot of damage though, the gauntlets show a fresh scar each from where the blade hit and sank into the frames, but that only seems to have made those blasts of kinetic force /stronger/. Yang's hair is ablaze with licking yellow flames which dance amongst the golden locks, and her eyes have turned a baleful red shade like glowing coals. 

:'''{{#var:598|Lezard Valeth (598)}} has posed:''' It's chaos and carnage on the streets! Lezard has some appreciation for the way they're going about getting what they want... Even if he can't quite tell /what/ they want. Oh well. Either way, there seems to be a steadily increasing flood of undesirables in the area. Lezard can't have that, that would be just... giving up, wouldn't it? And the Confederacy is.... /very/ stubborn. Just as Staren moves to try to give chase to Ophelia, there is a surge of crackling light that surges and explodes before him, scintillating beams that curve around and towards him in a bombarding strike. "Well well, if it isn't the young scientist." Another circle appears, and Lezard manifests within, the teleportation magics fading away. "One would advise the course of wisdom in this case, Staren. Depart from here and I will not be required to show you the folly of your ways." A crackling purple flame surges in one hand, lighting his grinning expression from below as he prepares for the inevitable response. Staren, much like Lezard, can be very stubborn sometimes. He can almost respect that, really. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren stumbles back, his forcefield glowing and cracking, parts shattering as the magic bombards it. He hesitates for a second, considering... Then the shoulder rack fires its remaining two missiles. One at Lezard, one at the rat swarm. Staren follows it up with a couple of beam cannon shots at Lezard, then starts running... away from Ophelia. Seems Staren's decided he can't fight both at once. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast grimmaces as his sword is knocked from his hand, but the gauntlet holds it's form. The sword is pulled back into the shadows, and Argast emerges, the darkness acting like a cloak. He was about to speak when two things happen. One, he saw the light surge. A smirk emerged on his face. "I see another mage has arrived. How rare to find a kindred soul in these times. I must remember to make their acquaintence." He muses. Two, a follower of Tzeench falls to the ground and screams in a mix of pain and exaltation. His left arm ignites into purple and pink flames and contorts in a horrible display of sheer chaotic power. "YES! I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN!!!YOU HAVE SEEN MY GLORY, LORD TZEENCH!!!" He bellows. He rises up from where he fell, his arm now mutated and changed into that of a flamer daemon of Tzeench. His allowed the warrior to fight now with sword and warpfire. Hoping to capitalize on that moment, he hurls some small fireballs towards Yang, while the mutated warrior charges at the nearest thing in his path. But at the moment, he was nowhere near any elites, but some poor police officers who were about to feel the bite of warpflames unless the warrior was stopped. BGM=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qv3WvK6Amg4 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' Rose continues to bombard the Bride with her laser light cannons, landing amidst a cloud of dust and smoke. Her shield is out, and her sword is in her hand. Looking over to lion, she gives a piercing, two-fingered whistle. Whether he comes over or not is a matter of debate, but she could use a bit more precision mobility right now. Her voice is booming as she lashes out with a blinding series of sword-strokes at the Bride. She'll focus on the rest of the battle after she's taken care of the baby-stealing undead witch. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' With Rose dropping in in full Mother mode, and Steven showing he can protect himself with some sort of bubble allows Kotone to focus on some other things. Such as the horrible things that the seemingly Metal Rocker from the 80s who actually has all the powers someone on a Metal Album cover might have. That being The Drowned Ophelia. Kotone does see Staren and Rory. Then Leazrd? She only knows of him by Reputation but he's not one to mess with and the fog is odd she's feeling something strange with it too and she takes a few shots at Ophelia as enough iis enough with this. She's also trying to not think about the follower of Chaos, he's here and he world could get a lot more trouble even from say the Imperium of Man over this, and then she's forced to trun her attention to shoot at Argast trying to keep him at bay but she's now open to Opehlia, yes her day isn't going to be going well. 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     "COWARD! COME BACK AND FIGHT ME!" shouts Yang in a near rage as Argast vanishes into the shadows... but her focus has to shift. Even though she's in a nearly pure rage state, she knows there are innocents around, and that newly Chosen Warrior has flung fireballs at her! Warpfire is different enough to the regular fire that Yang is so attuned to, that as she guards against it, the flames burn her arms and set light to her jacket.     Thinking fast, the girl releases some of her Aura, blasting flame, Warpfire and kinetic energy out around her in a dome, before she charges after the Warrior going for those police officers. "GET OUT OF HERE!" roars the blonde berserker, charging with all her might and firing a pair of blasts behind her to leap the charging Tzeench warrior, and block his path with her body, grappling onto him and digging her feet in, causing the ground to crack and furrows to be dug. "GO NOW!" she shouts over her shoulder, before pushing hard back against the Warrior's strength, her entire body glowing with her Aura, and her hair joining in, gaining a brilliant golden glow that likely blinds in the dull half-light of the storm. 

:'''{{#var:598|Lezard Valeth (598)}} has posed:''' Staren didn't have much to say and got right down to business! That's actually faster than Lezard expected! With a grunt, he thrusts the Manus Catalyst forward as the first missile fires, the munition slamming into an invisible barrier and detonating. The impact rolls over his shield, causing it to crackle before the beams strike next. The follow up crashes through the shield, the sizzling rays shearing into Lezard and leaving long burns on him. "Ggggh! That's very direct of him..." He mutters, giving chase. Ophelia is free to deal with her /other/ multitude of problems, thus. As Staren rushes away, shearing rains of shadow-forged blades strike down around him, and clusters of bone sikes push up from the walls and floor, trying to block and injure him. A few of them even launch cars in his direction, obstructing his path where they can in an attempt to turn him around back to the Sorceror. "Shoot and run, will you? I will teach you some /respect/!" He calls after the evading scien-cat. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' Steven watches Rose Quartz with big starry eyes from within the bubble, then shakes off his confusion and decides to do more than stand around being a target. Since his mom seems to have the Bride in hand, he starts running, rolling his bubble like a hamster ball, trying to escape the fog and try to find some way to help. Lion, for his part, has been watching Steven with an impassive look but protective intent while simply portaling away from threats on the edge of the battle, turns at the whistle, gives a last glance Steven's direction, and roars mightily before charging to Rose's aid! 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast emerges again, this time close to where the warrior was grappling with Yang. "You monster...For years he wanted the attention of Tzeench, so he could honor his fathers memory, and you stop him in the midst of his glory." He says, tone mocking again. He laughs deeply and watches the warrior pushes against Yang, his arm spewing forth warpfire to try to burn her face off. Then in his back he feels the shots of Kotone. He turns, and stares a hole through her. "Fine then...I will have to get serious. If you want to increase your allies, I will increase my magic." He muses. More focus goes into his magic, exposing a fatal flaw to Yang. He needed to commit focus to controlling the magics. But this time in the area around him, he falls forth a hellish flaming tornado. "BURN! BURN IN THE FIRES OF CHAOS! FIRST YOU, THEN THE EMPIRE OF SIGMAR!!!" He screams out. 

:'''{{#var:7|Kotone Yamakawa (7)}} has posed:''' Flames of chaos are bad very bad and Kotone while quick she's not quick enough to get away from him. She fires a few more shots but her clip runs dry. the fire comes she moves again but it's not enough her pausing to shoot was a mistake and she's caught in the tornado of flames. Kotone lets out a cry and drops, when the flames moves on she's smouldering on the ground unmoving. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' Rose, presumably having dealt with the Bride, looks to Steven. In her face is still love and the woman Greg fell in love with, but there's a dangerously cold side to her as she swings up on Lions back. Grabbing Steven THROUGH the ball, she swings him up onto Lion's back. "Steven, I need you to bubble those flames with me. Keep them bubbled, let them die." she says. Tears stream from her eyes as she watches precious blue Kotone pie fall, burned and smouldering. As Lion runs over in response to the press of her legs, her lacrimal essence pours down her face and trickles down her arms. "Stand, Brave Warrior. Your time is not yet done." she says, holding up her shield to cover them. Even as she's bubbling the fires, she lets her healing tears pour down over Kotone. The girl may remain unconcious, but there's no danger of her dying. Then she turns to Yang. "YANG, SHIELD!" she yells. Rolling off from Lion, trusting him to protect Steven, she heaves her shield (and sword) towards the grapple, aiming for the guy she's grappling. Then into her hands fall a pair of spiky chain balls. She turns towards Argast with a stare of disdain, chest heaving from the effort of doing so much in such a short time. 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     'Yang, Shield!'     The Brawler grunts with effort, her Aura adjusting to cover the majority of the damage from that spitting Warpfire. She's singed, burned in places but she's not giving up. "I. WILL. NOT. LET. YOU. WIN!" roars Yang as she shifts her stance, smacking the unmutated arm aside, before slamming the now free fist into the Warrior's face, hopefully knocking him off balance enough to break the grapple. "ANGLE IT!" she shouts back to Rose, as she turns, fires her gauntlets to leap onto the shield, then gathers down, gritting her teeth before firing AGAIN to fire herself skywards.     She soars, and for a moment, hangs motionless in mid-air, once more that energy builds in her gauntlet, but this time, it gathers from her hair and the golden glow suffuses the weapon. Then like a meteor, the blonde girl hurtles downwards at the Warrior, this time, the fist is like a sledgehammer, the kinetic blast like a C4 shaped charge, and the impact against the ground, causes a crater and chunks of concrete and rebar to burst forth around her in a circle. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Reimu manages to deal with the all of the shades before they cause too much trouble and she groans upon noticing the giant flaming tornado. It doesn't take long for her to remember who sent out the flames in the first place and soon, the four orbs are aimed directly at Argast Wyrdseeker. The young miko swoops down toward Argast and the four orbs unleash a veritable barrage of needles upon Argast. There was no need for more fire! 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren's forcefield keeps taking hits, but it's rapidly cracking, layers crushing and shattering as the bones press against it, the forcefield emitter discs on Staren's chestplate popping, sparking, and smoking. He's going to have to get away quickl--     CAR     The car slams into Staren's forcefield, but as it breaks, it acts like a perfectly slippery sphere, taking on the car's momentum... and transferring it to Staren as the field shatters into a shower of amber sparkles. Staren's tossed down the street at high speed, armor scraping sparks on the pavement. After about a second of skidding, he manifests his wings and flies up. Since the weapon combination worked well before, the rack on his /other/ shoulder pops up and fires the first of its three missiles, followed by Staren firing the beam cannons. "I wasn't /running away/, I was trying to put you between me and your allies! I respect your power and ambition, just not your goals!" 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' Steven, still amazed at Rose Quartz's power and skill in battle, nods at her command, bubbling the flames wherever he can reach them, with the intent that they'll die out in the bubbles with no air to feed them. He also summons his own Rose Shield, in case something tries to hit him. "Come on, Lion, let's try and do some good!" With that thought in mind, he hops off Lion next to Kotone's fallen form, protecting her from further attack with the Rose Shield. But it's clear this whole thing is wearing on him, he looks really tired now. Lion stands nearby, guarding them both. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The MOTHER BEAMS OF FUCKING ROSE DEATH obliterate the Bride - who, with a faint ghostly cry, disperses into the fog around her. Leaving Steven, for the moment, as a giant hamster ball rolling about the battlefield while his mother does a double-team shield leap-up smash. Because some things are just fucking awesome. Of course, Steven can't be left alone. That'd be too boring. No, his rolling progress into the fog is briefly copied by another roundish shadow rolling after him. Which is quickly revealed to be a tumbling Fright Wig, disembodied head glaring at him in the few seconds of eye contact between it's revolving progress. No, it's not much of a threat to him - but it sure LOOKS wrong, doesn't it? Reimu's targeting orbs slip into the deep fog, and but for faint crimson flashes of contact, it's hard to tell how much effect she's having. At least, before Argast takes on every fucking thing like a boss. Helped on by Lezard, of course, but the whole excercise is a time delay. Something to keep the overwhelming response busy -juuuust- long enough- For Drowned Ophelia. A collection of rats sliding and slipping through the darkened fog, a missile exploding into some of the pack. Which, not like rats at all, splatter like ink balls. The rest keep climbing, into and under. Inside the medical waste, a moving floor of shadow, with hundreds of bright red eyes looking in all directions. At last they find it - the one medical waste chamber. The collective shudders as a black mist rises from them, shrinking even as they form - Ophelia. Wounds opened along her side, leaking the black ichor of her form, but she's smiling brightly. Even as she plunged black claws into the canister - and begins to open it. "Got your nose~" She whispers, even as she signals completetion to the rest of her 'companions'. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast looks up and spots the 4 orbs. "Not this time..." He says. He steps back into his cloak of shadows and is gone for the moment. But from a new location, he launches a fireball for Reimu's back. "I remember your tricks, witch. I happen to like witches, but you...I'll make an exception." He was angry now. Gone was his toying, mocking tone but in it's place a rage of a warrior of chaos, and sorceror.     The mutated warrior had a split second to contemplate his life before the sheer force alone ended his life. In the end, he died a good death, one worthy of a chaos warrior. But back to Argast, he has had ENOUGH of this. "Red wind, I call on you. Unleash your rage unto my enemies! Burn the flesh from their bones, and their bones to ash! SEND DOWN YOUR FIREY ORB OF RAGE! DEVESTATE THIS LAND!" He screams. In the skies, a red glow eminates, hinting Argast was summoning forth a meteor. But, this left him completely open, as he had to focus EVERYTHING into maintaining the spell. 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     Yang stands from the Quake, rising in her own aura of red and yellow flame. Her eyes are glowing a baleful red, flames licking at the corners of her eyes. She steps forward once. Her foot smashing a new mini-crater into the already damaged floor, another step and another crushing foot-mark.     Those eyes? They're locked onto Argast. "Not this time." she growls softly, then with a gathering of her legs beneath her, she surges forwards, Firing once... twice... three times to build up speed. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she kiais ratcheting her right arm back, like the hair trigger hammer of a gun, aiming to smash the Sorcerer square in the face.     The gauntlet's gunshot is lost in the subsequent explosion emanating from the barrel above the girl's index finger. The burst of yellow energy engulfing the entire area in front of her. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:''' Reimu beings to wonder where Argast went only for her to hear the sound of a blazing ball of flame coming from behind. She hastily swerves upward into the air and the hem of her dress is left smoldering black as she turns to find the direction that the flame came from. She turns around to face the sorceror, with rage in her eyes and she whips out a small card. Said card had the pattern of rainbow colored orbs swarming around a poor unsuspecting fairy.      "Spirit Sign: Fantasy Seal"      As the card vanishes, several large rainbow colored orbs of light materialize from Reimu's glowing body. The large orbs of light immediately begin to streak directly toward the chaos sorceror, threatening to envelop his body in a string of colorful explosions should even one of them make contact with his form. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' As the freaky black and blue head approaches throwing globs of what must certainly be dangerous black crud, he dashes back and forth, catching globs with his shield that might otherwise hit him of the downed Kotone, each one ringing on the shield, each one causing deeper reverberations. Soon the sound becomes disruptive to low-level magical constructs, for what that might be worth. But the glowing fire of the fight happening not far away is momentarily distracting, and a black glob splatters his leg, its corrupting Black Tear nature causing him to cry out and fall to a knee in pain, again focused on warding off black globs. Whatever is happening behind him to cause such bright glow will have to deal with itself, as he bubbles himself and the downed Kotone in the strongest Shield Bubble he can manage without passing out. 

:'''{{#var:598|Lezard Valeth (598)}} has posed:''' Staren is sent skidding down the street, and Sorcerer stands opposite Technomage on the storm-lashed, burning street. No one sane is present between the pair, anyone with any degree of self-preservation having quit the area. No interference. No hostages. Just mage and science-cat. Good. The missile fires, and Lezard immeiately responds. "Fire Storm!" The blast of flame isn't aimed for Staren, however. It's interposed with the missile, making it fly through the fireblast and detonating it early, showering the street with flame and concussive blasts. The followed beam strikes screech against Lezard's mystic defenses, forcing him back... But they hold this time. "You might need to change up your strategy, Staren." Lezard replies. "I am not so foolish as to not be able to adapt. That said, at least you claim to respect /something/, unlike your theoretical 'allies'." Lezard tilts his head, smiling as he adjusts his glasses. "I can only imagine the abuse one like you must feel. I acknowledge your genius myself. You possess skills that may even surpass my own in some respects... And yet you continue to shackle yourself like this! How do you stand it! How can you /accept/ the rule of lessers when you have such vision?" His Catalyst outstretches again. "LIGHTNING BOLT!" As if on command, an intense, air-shattering bolt crackles down the street, trying to strike Staren! 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     With Argasts complete focus on the spell, he never saw the yellow berserker coming. Her impact breaks his focus, and with such a massive spell fizzling a /HUGE/ explosion eminates in combination with the yellow explosion. Once the dust settles, Argast was on the floor with smoke and a risidual heat glow making his black armor glow slightly. But he doesn't move. While the armor took the brunt of the damage, he was human underneath. The sorceror was finally unconscious. 

:'''{{#var:906|Yang Xiao Long (906)}} has posed:'''     Yang is sent flying back as Argast explodes back at her from the feedback pulse. She skims across the ground, cracking the concrete with each impact she takes. She finally comes to rest, after smashing into, and through a nearby building, the wall collapsing atop her.     She doesn't move. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' Rose judges the situation carefully. There is a great deal of firepower flying straight for the sorcerer, and that means she's free to turn her attention on Lezard. She heaves one of the spiky chainballs... Right at Staren, and for a moment, it looks like she's changed sides... But then the lightning is drawn to the spiky chain ball. "Fun thing about these. Garnet helped me make them. They magnetize when exposed to electricity!" she says. Then she releases the other one, which streaks straight towards its mate. Lezard is between the large, spiky balls. Thus disarmed, she grabs her laser light cannons again, setting up a barrage of fire to either side. She looks to trap Lezard between laser and spiky chain balls. Leaving him with one route of escape, if he's fast enough... Or more than one, if he's REALLY fast. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The signal given to retreat - objective secured - Drowned Ophelia digs in deep, wings springing to existance on her back. The raven wings flap hard, Black Tears pouring around her - somewhere between smoke and liquid, the strange and brutal ectoplasm of pure Sorrow. She heaves, and flies upwards, cackling madly.. Outside, the roof of the Medical Waste building explodes upwards. Because what was an exit without explosions? There, Ophelia can briefly be seen as she clings to one pod in particular - before she gathers herself, and flies further up and off to the night. All this - madness, chaos, misery - for something that was just getting thrown away in the first place? No one ever claimed Drowned Ophelia was a stable, sane person. Who could be, as an avatar of Death Metal and 'super srs goth so dark guis' emo? She'd be crawling in her skin, but that's the wrong fucking genre. And it would appear that Staren's initial hypothesis was at least somewhat correct. With the exit of Ophelia, the hiding fog begins to roll back, dispersing into the air. A wobbling Rat Gut hunting the unconscious Argast - to sling him over a shoulder and slip away as well. They got stomped, pretty fucking hard, but it was never meant to be more than a quick raid to steal whatever the hell it was that Ophelia stole. Steven's bubbles of Black Tears stirring within their confines - slipping between liquid and gaseous, somewhere in between, as they seek some way out. If exposed outside the bubbles, they'll fade away. Much like sorrow itself, they come on strong and depart just as quickly. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Lightning goes pretty fast! Staren can only react to Rose with a quick nod. And he needs to change up his strategy... he elects to shoulder one weapon and draw another, flying to the side of the firestorm to draw a bead on Lezard again. This is a laser rifle with an underbarrel grenade launcher -- Staren just keeps firing, trying to pump as much damage as he can into Lezard's defenses in hopes of overwhelming them.     Also, is Lezard trying to talk him into switching sides?! "Seriously!? You tried to torture and kill my girlfriend! Fuck off and die." Language, Staren! There's a kid present! 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' His leg throbbing with pain from whatever that black stuff, worn out from bubbling and shielding and bubbling some more, Steven watches what looks like the last of the enemies leave, that black head thing with them, and lets his shield bubble go. "I think... I'm'a... take a nap." And with that he faints, curled up against Kotone's form. The little bubbles containing fire or Black Tears or whatever was in them, remain, so long as nothing in them puts up any actual fight. 

:'''{{#var:598|Lezard Valeth (598)}} has posed:''' The murderous response slams into Lezard's barrier. It's powerful, but Staren has some solid firepower of his own. The barrier gets brighter and brighter, a runic bubble of power that repels the strikes until it shatters, blasting into pieces as the next grenade takes him in the chest and detonates! The Necromancer of Midgard hits a building, shattering the windows as he craters into the wall and slides down. "Hah." Lezard coughs up blood and spits it to the side as one hand reaches up to touch the mass of burns that his chest has become. "A compelling retort. So be it, I will yield the ground to you for now." A new teleportation circle forms under him, and he gestures to the science-cat. "Keep in mind... The only reason you care for that talking horse is that it accepts you. You can do better than that. Why settle?" With a laugh, Lezard fades away, leaving a thick bloodstain behind where he lay. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Reimu's pupils begin to shrink as soon as the shockwave from the Medical Waste building blows her back. She hurtles through the air directly toward the ground only for her to just barely miss impacting the hard concrete. As she manages to stop herself in midair, she turns around to see the Medical Waste Building on fire and she grits her teeth.      Out of the corner of her eye, she manages to spot a young boy next to the unconscious body of Kotone and she searches for someone for someone nearby to take care of them. Upon finding everyone occupied, she lowers her head and flies off toward the Medical Waste Center to find any survivors. 

:'''{{#var:1017|Rose Quartz (1017)}} has posed:''' As the battle winds down, Rose makes the rounds of her companions, the sparkling tears that flow from her eyes healing all injuries. Yang is first, taking the healing touch. Staren is next. Even if someone wasn't struck, they still get a dose of lovely healing goodness, with Steven last of all. 

:'''{{#var:1023|Steven Universe (1023)}} has posed:''' Lion stands guard still over Steven and Kotone, if 'curling up with Steven and yawning hugely' can be called standing guard. Still, he watches and listens with his usual impassivity in case Rose needs him again, or something threatens his boy. 

:'''{{#var:42|Staren (42)}} has posed:'''     Staren's eyes widen. Holy shit, grenade to the chest! Did he get him...?     No. He's still talking. Staren keeps shooting. "No. You're wrong." It's the kind of statement that might be laced with doubt... but there is none in this case. Someone else said that to Staren four years ago, and he's already answered that question for himself. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' With the rescue of Argast, the departure of Ophelia, and Lezard's own bloody exit, the storm clouds at last break - what was becoming a lightning filled storm is now a mere drizzle once again. The fog fading away like a bad dream; There are still monsters running about, of course. Rolling Fright Wigs, and other nastiness, but they're alone and seperated from the Drowning Doom. Without the Death Metal to sustain them, they'll quickly wither beneath heroic onslaught. BRUTAL VICTORY: CURB STOMP EDITION WINS: Better Rain, Bubbled Black Tears LOSS: Some medical waste who ****'ing cares, amirite? 
}}

4292/Lost to Apathy

2016-09-29T12:49:39Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/07/07 |Location=The Brutal Lands |Synopsis=A chaos sorcerer meets the soul thrashing black sorceress. Undivided Chaos finds delight in the Bru..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/07/07
|Location=The Brutal Lands
|Synopsis=A chaos sorcerer meets the soul thrashing black sorceress. Undivided Chaos finds delight in the Brutal Lands
|Cast of Characters=975, 1008
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Imagine, for a moment, a land; A brutal world built on metaphor given flesh, where exhaust pipes push up from the ground and beer trees pour their amber fluid for the consumption of the masses. Where giant spiders spin bass strings, the difference between 'weapon' and 'music' is thinner than intent, and everything is generally just fucking awesome thanks to the Gods of Metal. Far on the eastern continent of this warped and broken land is the home of the Drowning Doom. The gloom that perverts and warps all around them has taken seed here; Graveyards spout like mushrooms, dead trees swaying with thin films of bridal veils and a freezing mist continually pours from rifts in the earth. The closer one gets to the Sea of Black Tears, the worse the infection of Sorrow becomes; Undead mill in their mutated and confused masses, resting from the last Season of Pain and regaining their strength. The very air shudders with the sound of metal; Beautiful fucking metal. Pale creatures sulk and stew, content in their apathy, while more esoteric forms - crawling heads or ghostly sirens - scream and wail in rapture to the misery, sickly things that worship the Dead Gods of Black Metal. Within the cave itself, appearing more like a rotting skull than anything else, lays the Sea itself; More of a lake in terms of width, but like sadness it goes far deeper than it does wide. A small platform juts out from the stoney shore into the black waters, which tremble and shift slowly. But of the creature herself, the Queen of Tears, there is no sign - yet. The perverse, the broken hearted, the narcisstic nihilists are welcomed here among the Doom. THEMESONG: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZqfH1LQEOQ 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Such a place drew the eye of many things, but today it drew the attention of the gods of chaos. Primarily the prince of excess, Slaneesh, wanted to know what this place withheld, and to a lesser extent Tzeench was curious about the seemingly undead. Riding in on his fire-hooved nightmare steed, Argast and his warband arrived. He looked to the closest undead and dismounted. Every step he took, his chaos staff clanged onto the ground. "You...Tell me who is lord of this strange, yet delightful land. My gods must know.." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' A fire hooved steed? Wouldn't even draw a bat of an eye; Not with the Reapers running loose on screaming skeletal horses looking for beating hearts to cut down. Or the RazorBoars, one part long-neck chopper bike, one part stab-pig. The gathered hoardes of the Doom part as the Sorcerer moves within, the occasional patrol returning or heading out; Huge vehicles made in the Judas Priest vein, with trembling blowers and V10s crackling with fire. Most of some form of tortured undead strapped to them; A man in an electric chair, jittering with excitement and a rictus grin as he pilots his own execution about. Or a opera phantom stamping and hammering in time to the thrashing black metal, cackling in mad rejoicing at what can only be called a fusion of rock organ and hot rod. Small baby carriages that carry explosive dolls, floating brides with small lightning storms spiraling above them. Death Metal. It's not a sound - it's a way of life. A civilization. One of the NecroMoshers - creatures stolen from Middle Earth's Gol Dutha during the Black Flags Tour - cackles madly, metal blades driven into it's boney form clanking and clashing as it points a clawed hand towards the cave. Towards the Sea of Black Tears. A Dork - orc corrupted with the Black Tears - adjusts heavy metal frames, and licks a tusk. "What my compatriot is saying is we - the Drowning Doom - are headed by our front woman, Drowned Ophelia." The Dork pauses. "Although the appropriate term for our kind is Tear Drinkers. Of course, I was drinking from the Black Tears before it was cool." As if on cue, the rambling mass of Undead part, leaving a path forward to the cave itself. From within, the liquid concentration of grief, misery, and sorrow beckon - a faint salty smell, fresh turned earth, like memories that refuse to die. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     "Tear drinkers. An interesting name." Argast says. His warband chatter amongst themselves, though the followers of Slaneesh shout out how they have arrived at home. Argast motions for them all to follow him. The smell intruiged him the most, and what it made him think of. "Lord Tzeench...this would be a boon to your service, I am sure." He muses. More and more, the sorceror found himself liking the Drowning Doom. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' For a creature of Chaos, the Brutal World might feel just like coming home. Hell, Slaneesh warriors might just suck up the sounds at the Screaming Wall, a massive seaside cliff of amplifiers where even the most casual of seagull call can cause a thunderous rippling. For the Khornites, the eternal warzone that is the wilds, where demonic armies march against human allies and the drowned dead. Tzeench? The constant mutated twisting of swallowed sorrow from the Sea of Black Tears. Even the Lord of Plagues would find home in the poisonous Tainted Coil. As the warband approaches, the Sea of Black Tears boils; Bubbles rush to the top, burbling and growing taller and taller. The screaming, wailing, gnashing of teeth from the Drowning Doom grows louder - an audience growing louder as the lead singer approaches the metaphorical stage. And Ophelia rises, garnered in the liquid ectoplasm of the Black Tears like a tight dress, her skin a pale blue, the ebon ichor forming claws where fingers should be. Her claws twitch, and eyes open. Black lips pull into a smirk, before she lifts a hand. Walking across the water to the stoney shore "Oh. Hey." 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast looks over to the singer and offers a bow. "I take it you are the leader of the Tear Drinkers. A pleasure. I am Argast Wyrdseeker. Sorceror Lord of Chaos." He introduces. His followers likewise bow their heards, though each follow their creed's vices. Ophelia would find that the armor Argast wore gave off it's own powerful aura of darkness, almost as if it were alive itself. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Mm hmm. Drowning Doom, now. They were Tear Drinkers, once. Just like my parents." Ophelia looks past the sorcerer to her own crawling chaos, lifting her hands with palms upwards. The cheering undead's wordless cry rise in a crescendo, before the Queen of Tears turns her attention to your warband. Black claws slithering across metal as she circles, chewing on her lower lip. Eyes flicking to you. "Love the look. Very ****'ing dark. Brutal." A flash of too white teeth, before she's gliding back to her original position. The black ichor drips from her cheeks and claws as dark tears, poisoned love and grief stricken hate in liquid form. "I don't get many visitors anymore; At least, not those who are breathing. Can I offer you a drink..?" That playful, wicked little smile again as she gestures to the Sea of Black Tears. Well, she had to try; It was in her nature. 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     "No, thank you. My armor sustains me. It seperates me from the need for nourishment or even sleep. Many of my followers seek the glory of the chaos gods to gain a set for themselves." That said, a few followers of Slaneesh, inhumanly attractive in their looks, allow themselves to ponder the offer. Argast, meanwhile, gathers up some of the winds he could feel in the area and conjured a small flame in his hand. "If you like brutal, you will love Khorne's deamons. Perhaps in time, the gods will see fit to unleash them." He says, banishing the flame. "Yet...tell me more of your power, this Death Metal." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears' smile thins slightly as her claws curl from their proffering gesture, but she doesn't seem upset by the refusal; After all, everyone will drown in time. That's the thing about water - it gets everywhere. "Oh? I think I would. Why don't you bring them along during the next Season of Pain? I'm real ****'ing sure I can find use for a hardboy." Eyes flick down to the fire, her palm cupping her elbow, her chin in her hand. Her eyes blink, then turn back to you as you ask about her -favorite- subject; Death Metal. The black lipped smile grows askance as her arms droop, then rise again; A guitar bubbles into existance between her claws. Long necked with a slender body like a spider curled in death, the machine heads up top being actual wake candles. The Six Stringed Sorrow. She flicks a clawed tip along the lowest string, sliding it up the neck, a dark sound curling away - Air shivers as the wake candles light up with blue flames. "Death Metal? It pleases the ****'ing Dead Metal Gods. It'll give you power, make you stronger - it'll twist the world to your whims." Her wrist flicks again, hitting a heavy beat; Armies marching. The fall of hammers. She lifts a leg and slams it down, the ground shuddering in sympathy. She then lets the sound fade away with that single power chord, arm drooped across the Six Stringed Sorrow. "It's powerful - but it'll have no master. The IronHeades and the ****'ing Tainted Coil have their own sound; What do you need to know?" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sWn3wiqGJ0 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:'''     Argast closes his eyes and lets the chord flow over him. He can feel the power of the metal, and all it offered. Yet, it also reminded him of something else. "Hmm....Your words. Spoken like the old shaman of my tribe. Tzeench can offer the same, in terms of the power to re-shape the world." He says, letting a taste of chaotic magic flow from his fingertips. Raw, untamed power licked at both the living and the dead. Small portals that allowed deamons from the realm of chaos itself openned briefly. "Perhaps we have both struck the chords of the same energy, but in different ways. You through the power of death metal, and I through the winds of magic. Imagine the potential if we combined our abilities on your next Season of Pain..." He says, laughing slightly. "The fools of the Empire, and the union would be unable to resist the lures..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Yeah. I could always use something to spice up the ****'ing side stage." Laughs the creature, her eyes drifting to the Six Stringed Sorrow. Clawed fingers curl around the neck, thumb stroking with the tenderness of a lover, before she opens her hands - the instrument bubbling out of existance once again. She then presses a finger to her cheek, tilting her head slightly. "Union; Buncha ****'ing heroes out to do nothing and do it fast. I'm patient, though. I'll see their little hearts break, and their little lights snuff out one after another in the rising tide... It's so very easy for these ****'ing humans to give into sorrow. To sink beneath the waves and float.. But what the ****s an 'Empire'? That like the 'Emperor' of the Tainted Coil? That guys a ****'ing dick." 

:'''{{#var:1008|Argast Wyrdseeker (1008)}} has posed:''' "Not quite. They are fools who follow a god named Sigmar. Blind fools all." Argast says with a shake of his heads. "They refuse to see the truth of chaos. It stirs, remains, and will remake the old world. They will either submit or die." He says, staff slamming into the ground. He then looks to Ophelia. "Their emperor is named Karl Franz. An elector count and a fool." Though he takes a knee, and hovers his hand over the ichor. "But....I wonder how he would like a bath in this..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' As if stirred by the thought of swallowing an Emperor, the Sea of Black Tears churns. Slow waves roll to the stoney beach, and are dragged thickly backwards, clinging to the rocks as they go. Drowned Ophelia's own smile brightening up slightly; Less to do with happiness, more to do with showing teeth. "I'm sure it'd help him see things differently; When your breath grows cold and still, your whole perspective can open right up." She laughs, cracked and more than a little broken. "Hey, bring the ****'er on by sometime. We'll see how many bubbles he has in his throat - hell, maybe I'll let him be a footstool.. if he comes back up afterwards." She wiggles a finger, 'come-hither' style, as she's walking out to the cheering crowd of the insane undead. The Six Stringed Sorrow hisses back to existance once again between her hands, claws flickering along the strings. The tune - the shuddering sound that seemed to come from the air itself - is seized; Changed. The pace quickened, Drowned Ophelia tilting her head back as she communes with METAL. Electricity flickers off the neck, grounding itself at her feet, the strings of the Six Stringed Sorrow beginning to glow. Pot fires explode away from her in a line, clearing space as the wind picks up, forming storm clouds above. This was Drowned Ophelia's HOUSE, the seat of her power. The screaming throngs of undead grow louder, drowned out as lightning bursts from the clouds above to strike in front of the creature. And then again and again, faster and faster until it forms a cage of twisting, living light. It culminates in a crackling explosion that leaves the taint of ozone on the air, Drowned Ophelia letting the tune chop away. And there is - The Hearse! One part cadaver carrier, one part hot rod, a roll testament and temple to DEATH METAL. It's engine already rumbling, frame shuddering with restrained power. "Look, I've got a gig to hit, but it was real cool talking to you. -Finally- someone who gets the need to push everyone under." A girlish, broken giggle. 
}}

4171/What Lies Ahead

2016-09-29T12:48:09Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/05/31 |Location=Planet March <PM> |Synopsis=Season of Pain - Final Battle. The Return of Death. Drowning Doom march on .. well, March, to scou..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/05/31
|Location=Planet March <PM>
|Synopsis=Season of Pain - Final Battle. The Return of Death. Drowning Doom march on .. well, March, to scour the world clean of life once more.
|Cast of Characters=975, 162, 972, 964, 714, 782, 930, 691, 992
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' In all three of the last invasions - err, concerts - that the Drowning Doom put on, they always started from scratch. Right in the heart of a city, right in the middle of a fortress, right on the edge of a heavily defended swamp. This time? This time, the twisted Tear Drinkers have had TIME to setup. The Magus Foundry - A Logia that almost managed to scour the world of March clean of life once before, the core of that massive creation having long since been dragged away. What was left was a cavernous reminder of darker times, metal ribs over metal floors, ancient stains and broken memories. The population of March had slowly begun to recover in the three years since - only a fraction of what they once were, but happiness was there. Babies were born, lifes reforged, and everything seemed to be okay now. Until black clad figures once more began to march. The skies crack above with flickering lightning, a world-storm that's slowly creeping across the stars above. In the living darkness caused by the writhing clouds creep the FREAKS; Pale, dead faces and gaping mouths, Brides with their veiled and ghastly features, the murmuring Dorcs looking for a place of appropriate 'underground' feel and good wifi, the thrashing NecroMoshers - all that had been gathered, all that had been twisted, is here. Now. From over the horizon lightning stabs into building and structure alike, dancing along metal to leave molten drops to fall to the streets below. Murders of black, red eyed crows harrass the skies, led by a massive corrupted Grimm known as EverGore. Gnashing black rats bubbling from sewers and down gutters. Electric lights flicker and flash with power surges from the lightning strikes, casting an eerie glow on the enroaching hoardes - a proper electric funeral for this world. While at the Magus Foundry itself? A stage. A massive stage, an appropriate climax for this, the final leg of the Season of Pain, the Black Flags Tour. A massive bell tower clangs in time to the steady march of Black Metal, an ancient dirge heralded by fat drumlines and heavy bass. The ground practically writhes with the undead, thrashing and otherwise driven forth to die once more. Massive metal fists - with finger and pinky extended - poke outwards, lightning flickering along their wrists before launching outwards in a brutal display of power in time to the choopping Six String Sorrow's wails. The Horn Throwers. Engines roar, people scream for their cream, and in general? The Drowning Doom MARCHES. With Ophelia herself center stage, swaying back and forth in time to the steady thrash of her guitar. Themesong: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTnf_KYyrBQ 

:'''{{#var:162|Zephyr Windstar (162)}} has posed:'''     March is a shadow of its former self. But it is not without its defenses and champions. Darma Windstar, a tall, imposing figure with the earfins and whiplike tail of some kind of lizard-cat creature stands defiant against the encroaching creatures, constantly putting out a distress call as the few Marchain Battlemages take up positions, aiming their Devices to pepper pulses of multiple hued magic into the oncoming storm, both airborne and ground-based. "Hold the line! Whatever happens we must not let them through! Get the civilians to the shelters!" orders Darma, gesturing to the non-magical civil protection forces, police and civil services. "We will buy you time. I only hope my distress call got out before this damnable interference."     In the darkening sky, dancing amongst the lightning bolts, comes a streak of dark purple, which suddenly angles down to land amidst the Freaks and Dorcs, making a crater in the ground amongst their number. A single voice cries out as the dust settles. "I AM ZEPHYR WINDSTAR. THE WINDDANCER OF MARCH. YOU SHALL GO NO FURTHER WHILE I STILL DRAW BREATH!" And so, the local Elite joins the fray, her axe-blade singing as she dives straight into melee combat with the horde. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      As the young miko departs from one of the warp gates, she can easily notice the large army in the distance. Reimu begins to fly onwards towards the darkened skies. As she begins to fly closer, four Yin-Yang Orbs materialize around her body. The winds begin to blow through her hair ribbon as she approaches the gathering army. As she glances down toward the metal fists, it becomes pretty easy to notice the rhythm that they seem to launching themselves to the beat of the music. That should make it easier to understand how they'll go. The other threat is probably going to be the lightning bolts along with those large angry crows.      "It's nice to see that they rolled out the welcome wagon for us."      From there, she flies onward, the four orbs beginning to spray homing talismans directly towards the Horn Strikers along the bottom while she begins to emit barrage after barrage of bluish talismans directly in front of her, their target being the hordes of EverGore. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Make no mistake, there would likely be inquisitive points of curiosity to be explored later by the Lotus and her operatives when it came to the world of March. What had been gleaned from cursory queries was one thing, but there was much more here that warranted documentation. However, now was not the time for that inquiry; no, now was a more martial point than most when it came to the auspices of the Drowning Doom, it's leader, and the soul who had become wayward. "Bound by honor, but even she's not sure of herself and whom she serves," the Tenno remarks faintly, far and away from the field. The Lotus frowned slightly as she regards the child. "But we will help this 'Yari' as she asks. Maybe..." Kushiko trails off, before looking up at the cut-in of her Lotus. "For now, we'll ready ourselves to take advantage and help where we can. Depending on how Zephyr and the others here are dealing with the situation, you may need to task yourself differently." Kushiko nodded. "Of course, Lotus." That was the quality of the conversation leading up to this point. She had chosen her Warframe as best as she could; her weapons equally given scrutiny given the nature of the Drowning Doom. It was an unknown enemy personally, but they reminded her enough of the Stalker's shades and other twisted, supernatural threats. After all, Nekros wielded those same kinds of powers, and to another degree, so too did Banshee. So she went without fear, and transferred not only to one Warframe, but two, the cloaked and hidden Liset breaking through the atmosphere of the planet and making a beeline for the incident point. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' It's been a busy week for the healer turned... Still technically a healer, but crazy! Between having to contend with Union forces just about every time she's gone out and gathering materials from unenthusiastic donors, Sanary hasn't really had a chance to just relax in a while. What better way to do that than to play a little music with some friends and hold a little concert to spread awareness?      Awareness about what? The Drowning Doom, of course. And by awareness, it's less word of mouth and more direct overrunning the Magus Foundry. Not that playing music is figurative this time, though, since Sanary's actually on stage with Drowned Ophelia! With a... Guitar?!      A bass guitar, and she's actually doing a decent job at playing it. Not too loud, not too fast, but just enough to amplify the existing sounds and give it a nicer crunch. And jsut to really fit in with the whole darkness and death motif, she's even wearing dark clothes with a tiny hat to match!      "This is nice. So many people watching us, plenty of land to take over... We should do this more often~" She's laughing, too. That's probably not a good sign. an eyebrow raises slowly as Zephyr and Reimu come in, hacking away at the horde on one end and blasting orbs at the other. She's not too concerned yet with the defenders, although today's bass player does start conjuring up some solid gray sheets along the stage in front of her in preparation for more direct attacks towards herself and her companions. It never hurts to be ready! (Outfit Reference: http://i.imgur.com/xTipBVa.png ) 

:'''{{#var:782|Golden (782)}} has posed:'''     Behind the bassist and lead guitarist amid a ridiculous drum kit that seems to be playing itself with four foot long sticks is a Metal Mamemon, corroded looking and dripping with Black Tears as he thrashes away on the drums. He manages to keep a furious beat that sounds almost like gunfire or the sound of rain on sheets of tin. Occasionally the big bass drum will sound with a resounding BOOM as a larger bolt of lightning is triggered by it. Peals of thunder get unleashed by the crash of cymbals, tympanis, and high-hats. There's a strong anger behind the drumline. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden received the distress call!, and he dives into the closest gate to the planet march he found. Thankfully, it ends up being one very close to the town!. He does not need much indications to see where he has to go this time. He rushes to join Zephyr and the other defenders, and try to contain the approaching 'army'.      He wastes no time, no need to hold out, already in his Metal Garurumon form and trying to help pushback the wave of monsters on the ground, while Reimu worked in the air. "Giga destruction!" he growls from his position on the air, raining explosive missiles on the lesser monsters, making sure not to aim near any of the defenders, of course. 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' Yari Takane isn't here today. Nope. Not at all. She'd never betray her allies, of course. And there's even video of Yari in her Confederate quarters, playing with her foster daughter, that definitely isn't half clever bribing of security and half illusion. Ophelia technically isn't an ally, or at least that's what everyone's supposed to know. And after the drowning of Sanary? The ninja's marked her as a traitor and an unstable tool. The fact that the rest of the Confederacy doesn't see that yet is irrelevent. She's Human Resources. And sometimes you need to be proactive. And if all else fails, she can say she's just throwing off suspicion from Ophelia. Thus, the amateur adventurer Yagyu Tomori is here, whose only claim to fame is theft of a few interesting enemy pieces of technology, including a gunblade, and willing to take just about any kind of pay. She's dressed in a long cowled robe, hiding her tail and horns, which have been dyed white. Even her hair's now a brilliant shade of red, and a mask around her face has a hastily worked together voice changer. Just a few pitches to throw off suspicion. Unfortunately, the disguise won't work on someone who /really/ knows her. The 'adventurer' silently charges in right beside Zephyr, already hacking, slicing, and blowing off heads with her weapon. For an 'amateur', she has some skill. Mostly the brides and freaks. By now, Yari hates the undead (that isn't Dracula or Ariah), almost more than she does an Eikon. Meanwhile, even as she's fighting, she notes both Ophelia and Sanary up on stage. She pushes her hatred deep down, and prays she doesn't end up having to fight the woman she's doing this all for. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun came quickly, and she has has taken up position inside a tall building three quarters of a mile away from the stage. The window is open, but the curtains are closed. For now, it's just another window among many. Any of which look equally harmless, any of which could equally play host to a sharpshooter. Little, subtly glowing blue dots have been quickly spread across the area, each of which provides visual feedback to her on the inside of the curtain. Allowing her awareness of anything that comes too close to comfort. She peers through the curtain, three red energy rings float in front of her left eye, greatly magnifying her vision. Her bow is drawn, an arrow nocked as the sharpshooter scans for high value targets. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Thrashing - the feel of METAL flowing in her veins like white hot fire, her six strings glowing as she communes with the Bleak Gods of DEATH METAL. Drowned Ophelia's face is wild, eyes wide and teeth gritted as her hands switch the tune; The Death Metal altering as well, growing faster; Harder as the defenders push for a decapitation strike. And she's - laughing? Mad, cackling laughter, joining Sandere a her grief finally overwhelms her good sense. Black tears pour from her eyes, marking her cheeks with fresh 'running mascara'. "We're not going to keep it! We're going to BURY everyone on it! We'll eat this planet, and leave nothing but cinders in our wake! And nothing on this ****'ING PLANET WILL EVER SMILE AGAIN." Those who are connected to her - those who have drowned and risen once more - can feel the Music change. The bleak gods of Death Metal lend their inspiration to those with grief and hate in their hearts. "Sever the skies!" She screams, as Reimu flies in from above. Oh, Ophelia -knows- this one. She promised her a special surprise. The Drowning Doom falls in neatly, the Horn Throwers focusing their power along avenues; Trying to force Reimu into a very specific in-flight path. Lightning crackles in the bruise sky above - as the heavens weep. Masses of Black Tears arc up and over the Magus Foundry like dead comets, exploding - filling the air with drifting petals of caustic Black Tears. Trying to bring her down to the level of the Doom before she can get too close. "TURN THE EARTH!" Comes the cry as Zephyr and Yari slide through the undead mooks like a hot knife through butter. Spots along the ground suddenly glow and twist before exploding upwards - FIRE POTS! Explosion noises! "DROWN WITH ME!" Spider-like fright-wigs clamber up the brave defenders lines - the few that make it forward first - dragging officers and defenders alike into the mass. To be torn apart? No, something worse - screams muffled as the decapitated heads seal themselves around the former March defender's own skulls, long sinewy lines of hair wrapping around limbs and puppeting the possessed creatures. A testament - the Drowning Doom came PREPARED this time. PREPARED TO PUSH SHIT IN WITH METAL. And finally, Drowned Ophelia looks to her Bass guitarist, those white teeth shining in a mad smile. "Oh, Sandere~ Fetch." She nods towards the front, where the Elites are trying to carve in. A glance to Golden, and a nod upwards to the sky. "RISE AND SLAUGHTER!" Oh yeah. Good times. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Themesong change, time to change the themesong! Fuck you wordcount. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-P0Wz3wqtpo 

:'''{{#var:162|Zephyr Windstar (162)}} has posed:'''     Darma growls as some of the defenders are pulled down from the towers and defensive barricades. "Hold them back!" she roars, before leaping into the fray herself, claws flashing with golden light as she starts tearing at the Freaks on the front line, and going in to try and rescue one of the taken defenders, clawing at the whip-like hair puppeting the poor fool.     <Master. The enemy is using multiple strike vectors, along with the ground forces. Evasion recommended.> chimes Divine Wind, as the Fire Pots start to erupt. "Got it! Going topside!" she says, leaping into the air, leaving her silent 'comrade' to fend for herself, not that the Mage knew she was even there. Too many enemies, too few friendlies. Once she's clear of the ground forces, she turns her eyes to the stage.     "You want to play with storms... I'll show you how a true Wind Mage brews a storm. Drive Ignition." Her Device transforms, shrinking from the large two-hander battleaxe form to a smaller, single-hand halberd-like form with two spinning turbine blade 'Bits' orbitting her. "Gear Second." A third Bit joins the first two, and she then levels the Device like one would a cannon. "I call upon the Great Winds. Ragios, Razgriz, Lethim. Deliver unto me a Maelstrom. Parijium, Gralith, Horaph." <DRIVE IGNITION. GEAR SECOND. MAELSTROM BREAKER. GET SET. TYPHOON SHIFT.> Energy gathers at the head, before bursting forth, begin condensed down by the Bits, before splitting into multiple strike vectors, each one angling around to hit a different part of the Stage. About eight beams in all. 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' By now, Yari is decently sure she's going to hate death metal forever. Her ears are already bleeding. The urge to blast Soothing Jazz over those speakers is very, very tempting, but she doubts the singers on stage wouldn't be able to drown it out. Besides, she has more pressing concerns. Such as the earth exploding underneath her feet! The ninja leaps back at first, dodging the first two explosions. The third, she grabs one of those frightwig-controlled defenders, and tosses him into the explosion as a shield! When he likely goes flying up? She leaps onto his body, 'crowd surfing' her way into the air. She needs a bit of height for her next adventurer's trick. Namely, getting a clear shot at Ophelia. She takes aim, and starts blasting away. Namely, aimed for that throat. She's going to stop that singing if it kills her! But that's only a distraction in the end. She'll use the debris tossed up by the explosion to stealthily lob a grenade right onto stage. High yield at that: she's aiming to clear both Sanary and Ophelia out. Yari will give Sanary extra-hugs for this one later. Thus far, the ninja looks a bit bloodied, that explosion having ripped at her side despite the human shield! At least her mask is still in place. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' As the music shifts and everything starts to feel bleaker, Sanary too is putting her all into making sure that bass gets louder and rumblier. Might as well put her all into it before she has to ditch the instrument in favor of fighting, after all! "This is going to be the big one, then? Alright... Let's make sure this is the best show ever, then~!"      She really sounds like she's enjoying this way too much. Alas, the healer can't stay on the instrument forever, and with Ophelia's gesture towards the oncoming Elites? It's time to get the real show started. Setting the bass guitar down carefully (those things are expensive!), the sheets that had been on the ground rise, looking not unlike a flooring aisle gone crazy.      Large squares! Small rectangles! Everything in between! All with a fair amount of bulk to act not only as shields, but performing quadruple duty as bludgeons, jagged stabbing implements with those sharp corners, and even a platform for the healer to stand on as she surfs it straight towards the fray.      Her first targets? Zephyr and 'Yagyu'. "Come for the show, hm? Well, sorry, but we can't let you steal it for yourselves!" Sandere jumps on the front of her 'platform' to force it vertically just in time for Yari's grenade to go off, avoiding the worst of the explosion and getting blasted forward...      ... Right towards Zephyr's beams! Several of the shapes comes up to intercept a few of them, although one of the shots still nails her directly in the gut and draws a strained cackle from the healer. She's scorched on both sides now, and her outfit's already getting torn in places! "Oh... Oh, that's just not nice. Whatever happened to good manners?!"      Laughing madly now, she launches four more of the weaponized tiles at the mage and the ninja, opting for a straightforward approach to solving her current problem! 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun's scanning for targets finds Drowned Ophelia, recognizing the voice she decides to try a specialty arrow. she has no clue whether it will do the trick, alien worlds operate by strange rules, but where she's from, it's sure to do a number on most forms of undead. An arrow made out of pure silver, hardened by magic to match steel, blessed by a priest on midnight of the full moon. She nocks it, calls upon the wind to guide it and speed it up. She takes close aim, tries to take into account any and all obstacles. And then she looses it, three quarters of a mile from the stage and yet her aim is true. If she misses, it's not because she lacked accuracy, it's because her shot was blocked ,her target dodged or something along those lines. At half a mile of distance, the arrow goes supersonic, the shockwave likely drowned out in the noise, and if not, it will arrive after the arrow anyway. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' Well, that flak is going to be a problem even if the Liset itself is cloaked, but what tears and meteoric firepower directed at Reimu might briefly cast a shadow as to the Liset's presence. It wouldn't last long, as the simple presence of anti-air is enough to cause Ordis who's actually piloting Kushiko's landing craft to bank away; a lack of weaponry is a very strong reason to avoid endangering the precious cargo. "... no, here will do." Kushiko muses softly. Ordis, on the other hand makes a kind of reverbing noise of /confusion/: "Operator? /what the hell are you thinking/--er, what precisely do you mean, Operator? We need to find a safer insertion point!" "And that will take too long, flip the Liset over so I can get out with Nova! /WE/ have a plan." To say that Ordis isn't happy with the blatant violation of his precepts is putting it extremely kindly. "ZZZNk-whateveryouwant just get ready to OBLITERATE these things!" The Liset's shadow is seen first, the spadelike ship large and weaving as it throttles back it's thrusters avoid one particular nasty mess of firepower before it flips, it's underside facing skyward. From here emerges a single figure: petite and glowing with energy that flows out of coils as the casket-like recess revolves twice; once to let her out, and the other to close the ship back in. And as the ship flips, she's nimbly running back around, grabbing the edge of the ship to flip herself to the surface once more. Yet as she does so, along her arms and legs, the control surfaces expanding and revealing rods that expand from her limbs. First two. Then four. Then six balls of golden, solidified energy, from which are rather... /large/ fields of oscillating energy bands. Said energy bands are going to /suck in/ and absorb that caustic fire as she focuses on weaving what has now become a dozen balls of Antimatter Drops to shield herself, her Liset, and perhaps even Reimu: or for that matter, allowing the miko to amplify the damage they're able to harbor. Of course, if they fire even more, well, that'll be something to deal with based on what the frame itself sees. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' The digimon notices the change in the... rhythm of the fight, and how the 'drowned' or whatever Ophelia calls her forces seem to redouble their efforts!. He also sees that the others begin attacking the stage, and he realizes... that perhaps that is for the best. He tries to approach, flying quickly to get a better aim, trying to figure out if he can blast Ophelia without potentially destroying anyone else. 

:'''{{#var:782|Golden (782)}} has posed:'''     Golden catches a ride on the EverGore as it flies by, flipping neatly onto it's back. And onward into the sky to engage Reimu!     Barrages of explosive spheres of energy are spat out by the cannon-arm. "Make this easy for yourself and embrace oblivion!" He's pretty nimble, righting himself and able to stay on top of the EverGore even as it flies about to evade things thrown its way. Just for the sake of variety, the approaching elites are bombarded with energy bombs as well. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Reimu continues to fly onward as the lightning begins to approach. Oddly enough, she seems to swerve away from the lightning strikes as they streak through the sky. The crackling of the lightning causes her to smile slightly as the orbs begin to move in front of her path. Rather than fly towards the ground, she immediately swerves away from the pair of lightning streams. The combination of the two streams of lightning practically light up the sky to the point where one could actually see that the sky was resembling day for a moment from the illumination. As the lightning begins to catch up to the young miko currently racing toward the center stage, the four orbs move toward her sides and she begins to fly faster in her efforts to get away from the rather harsh lightning.      She grimaces as the cloud of black tears finally begins to show up. She races forward as her orbs continue to fire talismans directly at the Horn Throwers. However, she appears to be in luck as the dozen balls appear nearby.      "I didn't want to use a spell card this early."      Rather than racing through the clouds of black tears, she begins to slow down for a moment as the she proceeds to whip out a spell card,      "Dream Sign: Fantasy Seal - Spread"      Immediately, the familiar rainbow glowing orbs of light are sent forth and most of them spread out all around Reimu. Some of them head toward the lightning strikes while the orbs in front of her head directly toward the antimatter bombs as well. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The FrightWig falls quickly to the Elites claws, the officer left dazed and hurt - but alive. Zephy's WIND BOMBARDMENT does a nasty job - shattering aside the air superiority of the EverGore and its massive MURDER OF CROWS. The EverGore driven back, swooping around in time for Golden to hitch a ride - submitting to the Drowned Digimon's will. The bell atop the stage clangs discordantly, a warning that the center is under attack! Lights flicker and die along the edge, and for a few moments the Horn Throwers fall silent - letting Reimu have her way, one or two beginning to collapse under their own weight. Drowned Ophelia looks across the battlefield, and releases the Six String Sorrow to grab hold of a mic on stage - and gutterally scream into it, something that builds from the gut and goes right up the octaves like a smoker's death rattle in a torture chamber. Ripples of pure -sound- tear out from the stage, knocking aside a forceful bombardment - and, unfortunately, the needles of a certain lizard ninja. Ophelia seems pretty pleased with herself - right up to the moment the grenade neatly lands. Poink. Boom. The creature twists aside, black ichor splattering the stage behind her as she staggers back. Just in time for - zip- a silver, blessed arrow to RIP right through her. She is thrown forward by the force of the bolt, hitting the back of the stage. And one can almost see the collective hesitation roll through the Drowning Doom as the music - doesn't -stop-, but is no longer being fed. Death Metal still reverberates through the air, harsh and horrible and beautiful, but it's not being CONTROLLED. Drowned Ophelia gripping the bolt poking out of her sternum with blackened claws, which hiss and smoke as she pulls it through. Panting as she turns back to the collective heroes, black ichor trailing from her lips. ".. I've been stabbed in the back before. This is nothing new." She spits. Enraged. "FREE THEIR BREATH!" She shrieks, even as raven wings snap out from her back. Forgetting tactics, forgetting strategy - hell, forgetting her own plan - she slices upwards from the stage, ribbons of black tears flowing after her. Where the exploding flak and lightning are cleared away by the frame as she aims to run straight INTO Reimu. Air borne catfight! The remaining Horn Throwers fall silent, and for a few moments the defenders have their way - pushing the freaks away from the line, leaving re-dead and dissipating creatures of DEATH METAL in their wake. And then the stage - abandoned and defenseless for the moment - begins to discharge fog. Ice fog stolen and combined with the Swamp. THINGS flicker in the depths, shadows and horrors as the cloud relentlessly claws forward. Where it passes, the Undead sigh in relief. The Horn Throwrs begin to flicker back to life once more, but they don't discharge - rather, they keep building. The humming growing louder, almost in tune, a crackling, thrumming hammer. And then? As one, they unleash a single torret of raging energy, phasing and feeding one another as they try to batter the defenses down in one blow. The music suddenly rapid, bird heart thrashing, balls against the walls. Anyone playing patty cake with ranged attacks on the other side of the Drowning Doom hoarde is in danger of being BLASTED! Whether that be a digimon doing some artillery work or a sniper with a blessed bow. OR a mage... THEMESONG CHANGE:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZX62imOapU 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' The grenade goes off, and sends Sanary flying /right/ for her and Zephyr. Clearly, fate (and very metal explosions!) hates 'Yagyu'. She smirks underneath the mask as those sheets rotate and let fly! She knows just how dangerous...and random...they can be! The first few are neatly sliced to pieces, bouncing off leather armor beneath those robes. One, however, slips past the whirling defensive feints of her gunblade to crack her right in the mask. The thing chips from the impact, falling away at her eye. Bleeding and now bruised as it might be, as Sanary gets closer, it may just seem familiar. "Your singing's awful." Deadpans the ninja through that mask. She can't help it. The insult sends a spike of guilt through her heart. Which pales in comparison when she fires two shots aimed for Sanary's kneecaps, then charges her, leaping boldly in to try to tackle and knee her unconscious! /Rude/! Of course, Ophelia's minions pour out excessive amounts of lasers that lash out against her arm and legs. The arm just hisses. The legs bleed red, but the ninja endures it, and continues to hammer into Sanary ruthlessly, likely spreading blood on the both of them. Some of Golden's fire whips past her head, glancing off a horn, causing her assault to momentarily pause! 

:'''{{#var:162|Zephyr Windstar (162)}} has posed:'''     Zephyr grunts as her attacks are intercepted, and she's forces to parry a giant slab of matter being swung at her. She ducks under and away, twisting in mid-air before darting out of the crazed healer's engagement range. "Alden! Heads up!" she calls empowering her voice to carry to the digimon. "Allez oop! We're gonna go stop the giant bird thing!" she says, diving down to snatch up her friend, before pulling hard up and climbing to intercept the EverGore and its rider. "Okay, you deal with the rider, I'll take out the mount. I'll drop you off, but be ready, cuz I'm gonna lop off the thing's head." she explains.     The mage then shoots past the EverGore, dropping Alden to land on its back, before pulling up again, looping hard around before aiming to dive down ontop of the thing. <MISTRAL CUTTER!> chimes Divine Wind, its blade glowing brightly with purple energy as she aims to lop the EverGore's head clean off.     "SHIELD FORMATION!" roars Darma, rallying the defenders to form a barrier against the incoming beam of death and hate. The Mages dig in, and transmits power between their Devices, linking fields together into a deflection screen, making the beam strike, and split aside harmlessly. It won't hold for long though. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Reimu begins to take a small sigh of relief now that the initial barrage is over. Unfortunately, that is cut short immediately as her intended target begins to fly directly towards her, rather than stay in the back. Reimu's eyes widen and she hastily attempts to swerve away from the speeding figure. As Drowned Ophelia comes by though, her claws manage to graze the young miko's side.      Reimu grits her teeth immediately as the slice cuts through her skirt and a small trace of blood drips from the cut. Immediately, she begins to float away from Drowned Ophelia as the four orbs gather in front of her body and begin to launch holy needles directly toward the figure who suddenly attacked her. As they unleash a barrage of needles toward Drowned Ophelia, it becomes very obvious that this is going to be rather difficult. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' There is something to be said for enabling efforts; if anything, to stymie and thwart what's being done otherwise. The twelve orbs of gleaming energy, golden cored with lilac bands of light oscillating rapidly draw in so much flak as the Nova 'frame bears witness to not just Golden, but Ophelia careening for Reimu! Of course, with Reimu helping to empower those orbs with even MORE energy than before, it and the flak and tears she used her orbs to absorb are, one by one, suddenly becoming black and lilac instead of pure gold. That, as some people may know, like Zephyr and not!Yari, signifies they've reached a critical mass. It's then that the Warframe /jumps/. Off of her ship, she launches herself, and with her energy flowing through her, she glides. She may take on attacks from other, but she's got her orbs of Antimatter presenting a very useful shield. And yet as she airglides, the light of her Void energy lightening her frame enough, she gathers even more antimatter once she's nearer to the stage itself to release another wave of force; Molecular Prime, bathing enemies alone in the coruscating light as the radial wave ripples outward from her. It's, something to be said for how much potential explosive energy is being wielded right now. The antimatter itself is basically particles of energy like a fine mist, highly unstable and debilitating towards the Drowning Doom that come into contact with it as it spreads over a good 30 meter radius. Because frankly, the artillery, the laser cannon, all of that is going to have a massive, damn near cosmic-class level of explosive force brought down upon it; she actually brings those orbs; the few that remain 'non critical' into the Laser's bath. Just enough to take some of that edge off before she drops herself--and her orbs--onto the stage itself to unleash her Void-born power in absolutely /cataclysmic/ ways. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden nods at Zephyr, "I'll take care of Golden." he agrees, rushing to meet up, his form curiously bursting into a somewhat wearker one, from Metal garurumon to his Were garurumon one, but it's certainly lighter!. "Don't worry!" he adds. He mumbles something, which is heard by his Shinki back in town, (thank god D-Arcs actually have range and allow comunication, and for the person holding it to see what the digimon is doing!), "Do the thing." he says softly.      He faces the Metal Mamemon, "Golden!, Stop!" he asks, before a large brush appears in his hands, "Let's hope this will work as planned!" he exclaims, "Taomon!..." he uses the brush to paint a red symbol in the air, (http://wikimon.net/images/c/c5/DT18_cap.jpg) "Bonhitsusen!" he calls, as the symbol begins to glow brightly, bathing the area nearby with 'holy' (at least to digimon) light. His sole focus is Golden right now so... maybe not smart. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Even with all her newfound power (or at the very least, learning how to use her existing power), Sanary is still very much an anti-crowd combatant than a duelist. It's one things to try and mow down a crowd, but focusing on more agile targets such as Zephyr and Yari and proving to be much more difficult!      "Oh? That's not very polite. Ah, but you Union people never know when to be polite unless it's convenient for you~" How'd she even make that connection? It's not as if this 'Yagyu' is wearing any Union gear, right? Still, who else could it be? It's always been the Union that's gotten in her way. The ones that always stop her from getting stronger. From accomplishing anything. The ones that hurt her. The ones that hurt Yari.      The ones that need to suffer. Like this one right here! Trying to sound like a weird imitation Yari to get her to let her guard down... That won't fool her at all!      Zephyr, for better or for worse, goes ignored as she focuses all of her efforts on trying to stave off the definitely-not-familiar adventurer, grimacing as both of those shots hit their mark and draw spurts of blood from her knees. Nothing she can't heal over time, but time isn't a luxury Sanary has right now! She catches Yari easily enough from that tackle, but the lack of her own leg power keeps her from (literally) standing her ground, and they go down!      "Why do you-grhg... People always have to get in my way? And trying to do it with /my/ Yari's voice... How awful of you~" Even with as cheerful as she's sounding, the murderous intent is still quite easy to hear. Weathering those blows to the face as best she can, She draws three more of those sheets over to try and just slam the ninja right off her! The healer won't be getting up quickly either way, though, what with her knees getting blown out like that. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The EverGore screams its rage, green witchfire bright in its six eyes as Zephyr lands upon its back. It begins to roll - Schlit. There's a peaceful moment while the body keeps careening forward on momentum, wings locked, and the head tumbles away. Already evaporating into Black Tears as it goes. The Grimm completely corrupted by this point. And then the whole thing folds in on itself, likely giving Golden and Alden a ride for their lives as they both begin to plummet towards the exploding, laser filled, undead churned ground before. If there was anything ever more metal than two foes locked in mortal combat atop a giant headless witch bird formed of SORROW and HORROR while plumeting down towards laser infested undead, you're not finding it elsewhere. The WarFrame falls through the air, absorbing glances of anti-air fire as she plummets; Fortunately, between Reimu's expansion and her own skills, the anti-matter orbs absorb a LOT of the hurt that could've shredded her coming in. There's nothing on stage to stop her, even as the stagelights swing upwards to unleash smaller lasers of their own. Moments, only moments. Drowned Ophelia - up in the air with Reimu - throws up her arm as the holy needles burrow into flesh. Blackened ichor splatters outwards, and she shrieks as she claws at the air; Ribbons of the black ichor swirl towards the girl - only to shatter like glass. Their own suicide shards looking to shred that pretty little living flresh and spill a bit more crimson. "WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME HAVE THIS? YOU FUCKING DICK! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" Is she - crying? Yes. A full on, broken hearted sob - it's obviously not Reimu she's seeing in her mind's eye. Kushiko hits. A moment of silence, before the cataclysmic mix of all that she absorbed goes exploding outwards. The bell tower clangs in mourning even as it collapses downwards, fire and explosions rippling outwards. And the DEATH METAL - falls SILENT. The Drowning Doom halt their forward advance, milling aimlessly. Drowned Ophelia's eyes turn downards. "No. NO! NO!!" She drops like a stone, landing atop the ruins of a Horn Thrower. The Six Stringed Sorrow wailing suddenly in her claws, trying desperately to hold her forces together. Lighting flickering around her, claws smoking from the effort as the strings heat up. Trying to hold a concert down without stage or props, trying to keep the performance going. Movement along the Drowning Doom again as purpose is given once more to the mindless METAL FREAKS. But she's prominent - oh so prominent. But WHAT LIES AHEAD? FINAL THEMESONG: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIedr_9_9hA 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun only brought three of these arrows, and the first has been fired already. They're expensive, and even expecting based upon context to go up against undead, she didn't bring her whole stock. She couldn't justify the expense to herself. But the three she has brought along, she's written off. These will be used, the remaining two arrows reserved for the proper moment was needed. And there, the target is so prominent, so inviting. For half a moment she expects it to be a waste, but then she realizes magic is at work. And thus, in quick succession both arrows are loosed. The last arrow fired is the same as the one already loosed earlier, but the arrow that gets released first here is a broadhead. Slow in comparison, barely failing to go past supersonic speeds, but spinning, with wicked edges designed to tear through flesh. Due to the timing, they ought to arrive at approximately the same time. The broadhead is aimed for the gut, the bodkin point for the heart. Both are high velocity, high energy missiles. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Reimu begins to fly backwards away from Drowned Ophelia and thankfully, she manages to swerve away from the glass-like ichor, although it certainly manages to cut through more of her clothes for the most part as well as leave a few more cuts on her sides. Normally, this is something that would happen after the fight is over. Before she has time to contemplate what happened, Drowned Ophelia falls directly toward the center stage in a manner of despair that's actually unfamiliar to Reimu. Is she afraid to die? The young miko sighs as she looks at Drowned Ophelia before continuing,      "Well, this is just a part of the job." The four orbs are aimed directly toward the cursed being and rather they unleash a final barrage toward the death metal powered being on the center stage. Hoard upon hoard of red needles descend upon Drowned Ophelia. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' "/Shatter/." The explosion is a glorious, wonderful thing to behold, and it's also an explosion that doesn't behave according to the normal standards. Coruscating bands of sparks flitter and fly from the impact points, as blast waves expand out before imploding inward, ripping Drowning Doom apart whilst doing the marvelous job of collapsing the stage. For those who were too close, to see them /devoured/ and their bodies sinking inwardly as they become as that lilac light with smokey black and lilac energy flashing and compacting before the scene itself clears. From the storm of energy, she rises; having landed forcefully, but despite being at the center of the carnage, she is mostly unscathed. A pulsating blue void shielding around her body as she cants her head. From a distance, Kushiko exults privately in the satisfaction of what has been done, but the battle is not just done yet. She reaches, energy outlining the shape of a briary-inspired assault rifle, the Boltor Prime, and begins to carve her way into what mindless metal freaks remain on her way towards engaging Sandere, as opposed to Ophelia. This way, she can at least support the others, and hopefully keep her from fleeing. Another figure descends from the Liset at this point. Predatory. Stalking. The Valkyr frame flanking from the other side, energy claws born of pure rage and Hysteria supplementing the breaking down of the Drowning Doom's assault. Yet the Tenno is decidedly uninterested in half measures until the task is done. 

:'''{{#var:162|Zephyr Windstar (162)}} has posed:'''     "HOLD!" roars Darma, and then, the beam putters out, "FORWARD! DRIVE THESE MONSTERS BACK TO THE BLACK PITS FROM WHENCE THEY CAME!" The defensive line breaks into an attacking spearhead, driving into the Drowned Doom, hacking, smacking, blasting.     Zephyr goes into freefall as the EverGore is sundered. <Core Frame itegrity at 80%. Hostile force multipliers have been reduced. Leader detected. Coordinating strike.> Sigrun's arrows fly in, and Zephyr comes in from the other side. <MISTRAL CUTTER!> Her blade once more sheathed in that glowing purple light, as she aims to hit Ophelia from the opposite side from those arrows. A double strike, to seal the deal. 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' Whump whump! Goes the not-Yari and Sanary! The impact draws the breath from her lungs, Yari sensing that murderous intent. And then the Bell Tower goes up in flames gloriously, momentarily blinding the masked ninja. For a few seconds, Yari's senses are on fire. The next, she's inwardly cheering on Kushiko and her warframe, knowing that all of the expense was utterly justified. She's hiring this one again if she keeps having performances like /that/! But nor is she about to waste an opportunity, throwing herself right back at Sanary, even as those sheets slam into chin and chest, right onto the ground. She drags herself over, gasping and bleeding, pounded by Sanary and the explosion. She'll try to weakly hold down Sanary, but the warrior-cleric has always been stronger than her! it'd be easy to flip her over and choke her out! Leaning in, she whispers at Sanary. "Then you should beat them down, because you're stronger than they are. But don't you realize there's someone else manipulating you right now? They're making you into their puppet. That's not strength. You're stronger than being anyone's puppet. Throw it off. I know you can do it. All that hate and despair...go ahead. You can take it out on me. That's my job, right?" And then, taking a huge risk, she lets herself go limp. It's all up to Sanary, now. 

:'''{{#var:782|Golden (782)}} has posed:'''     Golden is blasted by the holy energy, throwing off a stream of black steam as the Black Tears are purged away as his true nature re-asserts itself with help. It does not bring back the crest, but it seems that the Black Tears have repaired the old wounds and damage that the digimon had been carrying around. The strangeness continues as the light fluxes and the Metal Mamemon's data reassembles and unpacks even as the two digimon plummet on the back of a doomed diving bird. The sudden and forced digivolution plays havoc with electronics, with modem squeals and sparks flying as data is ripped from the electronic aether to generate the strange symbols that digimon call digimoji that rush into Gourobei.     The thought happens as the music ceases. The remembering of what he is. First and foremost, Gourobei was a protector and guardian.     A glowing hand grabs onto Alden's foreleg even as the changes are trying to solidify, trying to pull the Metal Garurumon into a protective embrace as they are about to crash headlong into the teeming hords of the Drowning Doom. The other hand pulls a large shield from its back as the glow slowly resolves to reveal Gourobei's War Greymon form, putting the golden shield between the ground and himself, the embossed Crest of Courage pointing towards the drowned. "Brave Shield!" The crest glows and enlarges into a sunrise-orange field as they crash into the earth. 

:'''{{#var:930|Alden (930)}} has posed:''' Alden did not really figure out what 'step 2' was, after trying to purify Golden, but the Weregarurumon certainly was not that worried about landing!. He lets out a rather surprised yelp as he is pulled close, mumbling something to Katze, some kind of assistance, "Hyper Wing!" he exclaims, a pair of white wings emerge, and he tries to... lift the two of them, but the speed was too much to stop, still, seems it manages to slow down the fall, at least somewhat!. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Leveraging her beefy pig wrangler's strength, Sanary indeed flips herself and 'Yagyu' over to get on top of the ninja. Her smile becomes even broader when the not-Yari practically confirms her own thought process for her, although something seems off compared to before. It's... Cracking? Perhaps it's the combination of the whispers and Drowned Ophelia losing her own hold on the healer, but her smile looks more distressed and lost than a few moments ago.      "Th... That's right. I can beat them all down... All they do is break everything, anyway... Who? A puppet...? Manipulating me?" Even as things are becoming clearer in Sanary's head, they're still becoming muddled as well. Instead of just single-minded devotion to destroying her enemies and protecting what's hers floating around inside her head, now there's thoughts of... Everything.      It's getting too confusing. There's too much of it. It needs to stop. Why did she do all of this in the first place?      "... You /are/ right. Trying to confuse me and... And making my head all weird. That's... That's you, isn't it?" That deranged smile comes back. "If you're going to use her voice, then you should be ready to die for that~"      BAD PLAN. BAD PLAN. Someone better take Sanary out fast, because she's starting to slam her fists down at Yari's masked face! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It's all coming apart, now. But still Drowned Ophelia is trying to hold it, her claws bubbling away to fingers as the strings of her own guitar BURN her. METAL is a powerful force, but it will have NO master. She's thrashing hard, teeth gritted, chin turned upward. And for just one, ONE glorious moment, she almost has it. DEATH METAL sings in her very essence, shuddering the air around her, empowering and driving and - Zip. Zip. Her claws open emptily. Eyes staring blankly at the air as a hole appears in her chest, right into her stone hard, calloused heart. Literally stone hard and calloused. The second tosses her aside like a rag doll, just in time for Zephyr's blast to send her sprawling the other way - and for Reimu to SEAL the possessive POWER within. The Queen of Tears collapses upon the - No. Not the Queen of Tears. In the sudden, pervasive silence, one can see a young woman. Brown hair splayed around her head like a dark halo, torn jeans, sneakers. A black shirt with the falling raven and upside down Anhk upon it. Ophelia. Ichor trickles from her lips, from her chest as she curls in on herself, weeping. Sobbing. Lost and betrayed and alone. "Oh god it hurts.. it hurts so much.. why did he.. leave.. " Flicker. She coughs, gagging as the black ichor continues to pour from her wounds. From her lips, chest shuddering as she tries to draw in air. The ichor surrounding her. Flesh pales even further, and turns blue once more as she chokes, clawing at the wreck she lays upon. Trying to get AIR, dying all over again. And still the tears come, no longer the purity of clear saline but black and tainted. Her clawing hands halt - and she growls, primal. A wounded animal. Flicker, and the Queen of Tears is back once more. She slides to the ground, sinking like liquid into the earth. A poison, escaping her final punishment. The Drowning Doom collapses. Almost literally, a few of the FREAKS simply falling flat on their faces. Disintegrating like the storm clouds above - which rain simple water, now, rather than the poison of sorrow and grief.. Madness and misery had come to finish this world, and had been pushed back. The Season of PAIN was over, and the season of forgiving RAIN began. 

:'''{{#var:992|Sigrun Stem (992)}} has posed:''' Sigrun doesn't notice the brawling involving Sanary and the mercenary. Her vision to narrow on the target, on the pain she just inflicted. Seeing it, seeing her target become a person for a moment, a person in tears, it almost makes her feel guilty. Almost. Seeing Drowned Ophelia regain her form, any chance of that happening is gone. The target retreating is good enough for her, she closes the window, and makes her own departure. Mission complete. 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' ... so, Kushiko, powering that Warframe is given to a few options, none of them are necessarily pleasing. Sure she could shoot Sanary, but that risked the contractor's life as well. And across the field, she had to move and move quickly; the first was a wormhole, a rectangular 'gate' floating that, the moment it appeared the Nova Prime frame disappeared, having bullet jumped her way into it. A reverbing distortion struck as she appeared out the other side; a single, distorted energy tether completing the exit point, the portal flickering as she rolled forward to where Sanary and Yari were. As fast anything, she gestured again; the control rod on her forearm extending, turning, then the wormhole appearing to /swallow/ Sanary off of Yari. Where was the exit point? ... skyward. Yes. That portal point went /straight up/, a good 50-plus meters upward, Nova spinning around to fall into the portal from the otherside as well to follow Sanary upwards. Any confusion the Sandere might have is likely to give way to rage and fury as the Tenno reappears behind her, grabbing her from behind and /spinning/. But as gravity and momentum try to assert themselves, she doesn't aim at the ground. Yari--Yagyu, is treated to an interesting sight. The spinning, makeshift Izuna Drop is given to more power and strength because she keeps guiding herself--twice over--into the portal. It sends them up; then down, then up again. Each time, not preserving momentum and velocity, only going faster and faster... Oh god this is going to hurt with the way Sanary's being pointed headfirst downward along with herself. Hopefully Reimu can with some swift flight down, make sure Yari gets out of there in time. 

:'''{{#var:972|Reimu Hakurei (972)}} has posed:'''      Reimu stares at the strange sight for a moment. For a second, she noticed a young woman rather than the enemy in front of her. She seemed to be talking about someone, but why would she be doing that? The young miko doesn't have time to contemplate this because she manages to notice Sanary still insisting on keeping this going.      "The fight is already over!" She begins to fly toward Yari, and in a burst of speed that most wouldn't really expect from her, she bursts forth, afterimages following in her trail and she grabs Yari. As the young miko flies away with Yari in her arms, she looks back for a moment and the four orbs begin to emit red talismans directly toward anything that might get in Kushiko's way at the moment. 

:'''{{#var:691|Yari Takane (691)}} has posed:''' Joy sparks amidst the despair and explosions and METAL! Off in the distance, Yari can hear the sobs of a familiar undead drowning in her own sorrow. Maybe Ophelia's working on her. Her enemy's pain is bringing her a twisted kind of joy deep in her heart. Blows come down hard. Stubborn, stubborn Sanary. Under that swiftly cracking mask, Yari's smiling. Her ruined eye is only pulped further with every strike, shards of mask burrowing into that eye, blood splattering with each punch. Despite the pain, she's still grinning. "Go ahead. But you're smarter than that. Stop denying the truth, Sanary." By now, Yari's head is swimming, likely with a severe concussion and internal bleeding. Which only gets worse, between wormholes sucking away Sanary, and then she's in the air, like some kind of rag-doll, one arm and her tail clinging desperately to Reimu. What wisdom does Yari have to impart just before passing out to Reimu? "Death...metal...is for fools and nerds. Jazz is superior." Thunk. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "Over? Oh, no no no noooo. You and your Union friends don't get to say when it's over this time!" The cracks are starting to show in Sanary's facade again as she screams out a response to Reimu, the calm smile getting replaced with visible fury. On one hand, she's royally pissed. On the other hand, it really does look like the effects of Drowned Ophelia's tears are starting to wane for real this time!      "Why... Why do you have to keep getting in my way? Why can't you let me have this?!" Her voice doesn't hold the same serene tone, her hair is starting to regain some of it's color (if black counts), and even her range of emotions is starting to expand past creepy cheer. There's a brief moment of hesitation as Yari speaks, and... Wait. Is that actually..?      Before Sanary can process all of it, she finds herself suddenly hurtling through the air. But... Wasn't she just on the ground a second ago? Her struggle against Kushiko in the air begins as she squirms and tries to flail about, but it's ultimately not of much use between the Tenno's creative use of wormholes and rapid acceleration taking the wind right out of her. Faster and faster they go, until the healer is planted firmly into the dirt! And by the time the dust settles...      ... Well, she looks like a freaking mess, bones are broken just about everwhere, and her clothes are in tatters between all the punishment she's taken in such a short time. On the plus side? Her skin and hair are distinctly darker than a few moments ago, and she's not conscious enough to start screaming bloody murder! 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' With the Drowning Doom crushed, and March freed, there's only one thing left to do. BRUTAL VICTORY Winner: UNION WINS: Splash time, mud pies, Sanary, Golden. LOSSES: Hearing, Sanity, BLACK METAL SANDERE, DEATH METAL GOROUBEI 

:'''{{#var:964|Kushiko (964)}} has posed:''' From the point of impact, Nova uses a momentary release of energy to power herself off, enough to keep such an attack from being lethal, somersaulting off and into a three-point landing some five feet away. As the thunderous impact begins to subside the other frame that arrived approaches from another side; Valkyr, the berserker, the felinoid-like frame stalks towards where Nova, Sanary, and Yari are after that rather concussive show of force to /end/ the fight. Just in case Sanary had any fight left in her, flecks of black blood evaporating from the outer layer of her body. "Good thing we're not Union," the Warframe doesn't necessarily /say/. No, the voice itself seems to fill the air without owing to any particular source beyond knowing it's coming from the Warframes themselves. Valkyr on the other hand steps over to where Sanary is, and picks her up, though not without an infusion of mist-like energy from her palm to ensure some measure of medical stablization as the Liset approaches, thrusters maneuvering the vessel to where she could be picked up, and summarily escorted back to where she could get proper medical aid. 
}}

4147/The Black Depths

2016-09-29T12:47:02Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/05/24 |Location=The Oceanic Ruins |Synopsis=Random Scene - Drowned Ophelia wants an object called 'The Heart of the Sea'. Of course, now there..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/05/24
|Location=The Oceanic Ruins
|Synopsis=Random Scene - Drowned Ophelia wants an object called 'The Heart of the Sea'. Of course, now there's infinite number of seas smashed together, so who knows what the hell it's for.
|Cast of Characters=975, 982, 714
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Great Ocean was home to many wonders of the multiverse; From a barrier reef that stretches further than many worlds, mass civilizations that had never seen the unfiltered stars, or even - in this case - a huge resevoir of ruins whose sole purpose appears to be to hide treasure. But for now? For now, this section of the great Eastern Ocean holds See-thingmen. No, that's not a typo. Corrupted, undead freaks of nature with bits of barnacle and other sealife blended into their water logged features as they man the husked remnants of creaking pirate ships. Black flags unfurl in the wind, snapping as a dark storm brews overhead - each flag bearing the falling raven and upside ahnk of the Drowning Doom. It is here that the request for a 'treasure hunter' is sent back to the Federation. And in that request? Two words: "Lost Logia". And always, the air thrums with the background hammer of METAL - just a curious sea-shanty version this time. Themesong: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jifZy1Z7O6Y 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     'Lost Logia', something that the former Rabbit of the TSAB is trying to collect. A very rare item with high power and a magical signature like a beacon, something that she can detect. It's this request, those two simple words that catch Mitsu's attention and of course, she's going to follow along, even if the conveyance is... quite interesting. "So, this is where it's supposed to be?" she questions towards whomever is nearby, if this ship's captain isn't near by.     The fact that they're undead freaks of nature doesn't seem to bother her... too much. She closes her eyes to focus, the gem inset on her bracelet chimes. ~Master? I am sensing nothing within current scanning range.~ 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Another day, another world to screw up! Or... Small section of a world. Even though Sanary's gotten a little very twisted up lately, that doesn't mean she's become dumber! No, it's still important to have realistic goals in mind, and what better way to make a mark on the Great Ocean than to get some feelers out first?      "What's this thing supposed to look like, anyway?" The white-haired healer chimes with a too-cheerful tone in her voice, sitting on the side of the ship and peering downwards into the murky waters below. She looks up momentarily to peer at Mitsu, teetering a bit on her seat while giving the Rabbit a curious stare. "Don't think I've seen you on the field before... Sanary Rondel, captain and field medic. Don't worry about getting anything broken, 'cause I'll just put you back together later~" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Yaarrr, sure as the unrested cadavaaaarrs lay upon the filth beneath, thaaaaar be treasure in these depths. Yaarrrr." States one Sea-thing Man, coral blooming across his pallid flesh and the torn black T-shirt with the logo that represents the best thing to a 'uniform' the Drowning Doom has for its crew. In this case, a ship crew, which is pretty much a double pun combined with a misuse of the word, so triple point score. The storm above continues to rumble, occasionally stabbing downwards with forks of lightning at the water - but it does not break, just yet. The creaking old ships appearing for all the world like they should fall apart, but like the undead freaks they serve, they're far more robust than they seem. Which is when the water off the bow begins to bubble. Rising from the depths is a body; A girl, pale of flesh and brown of hair, limbs loosely drifting behind her. But as she breeches the surface - like an ill-gotten reflection - the skin is blue, and the flesh is coated beneath the twisting tendrils of the Black Tears. Drowned Ophelia rises, eyes flicking open as she smirks. "Heart of the Ocean. And you know how I love to break hearts, Sandere. I'm assuming we'll know it when we see it.." She begins, glancing to Sanary as she stands upon the rolling waves. Clawed hands grip the wooden planks, and she ascends quickly, the ethereal inky ectoplasm drifting around her as she takes the deck. And looks to Mitsu. ".. Rabbits." She blinks, before that small, cruel little smile comes back. "So. Can your wrist detect them even beneath the waves? The Ruins have all manner of strange protections." A glance down into the waters. "Worse to worse, whatever it is was enough to be protected. That makes it worth taking." 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     "If you say so. Kratzenfaust isn't detecting anything and I'm not sensing anything as well." she responds, Mitsu smirks a bit, looking at that Sea-Thingman. "Quite a unique look you have there, wonder who you were in a past life." she gives a bit of a shrug and turns her face back towards the ocean ahead. "As for the item... she turns to look towards Sanary, a grin, "It could look like almost anything, Captain." she pats her side, a white disk with a black circle encompassing most of it, "This at my side's a lost logia, doesn't look major, does it?"     "Mitsu Mirage, Captain. Good to meet you. I'm still relatively new to the Confederacy but I'm glad to be with you all." a pause, "You really like breaking and healing things, like a masochist." a pause again, "But what do I know. I just punch things and find things." she smiles a bit until she looks towards the ocean once more and with that person who breaks from the ocean.     "Sandere? This is a story I have to hear one day." she laughs and bows a bit, "Rabbit, Inaba, Mitsu, I respond to all three. As for my wrist, meet Kratzenfaust, it helps me find things and, believe it or not, it's a weapon as well." 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "... Blaaaar." Sanary utters lazily in response to the Sea-thing Man, a mischievous grin on her face even as she wobbles back and forth on the edge of the ship. Should she be more worried about falling in? Maybe. Is she? Nope. Or at least she's not showing it. Instead, her attention seems to be divided between peering into the water for something to blow up and observing Mitsu, a curious tilt of her head given in response to the display of Mitsu's lost logia.      "That does look very... Well, I'd be able to pick it out now if I saw it, but not something I'd think much about without knowing." Would she just know it without seeing it? Apparently, what with Drowned Ophelia's response all but confirming that once she merges from the water. "Ahah. There you are, Ophelia. I was wondering when you'd show up~" Laughing oddly as she finally gets off the side of the ship to stand properly, she picks her gunaxe up off the floor before resting the complex implement against her shoulder.      "Oh, you'll do fine, Mitsu. You focus on breaking and finding things, we'll focus on... Also breaking and finding things. I'll keep you both healthy whether you like it or not~" Another laugh, and she peers at Kratzenfaust again while practically beaming. "That'll be an interesting story to here. Probably more interesting than mine, anyway. Ah, nobody really wants to hear about mine, anyway~"      Always so damn chipper. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Yaarrr, life mattaaaars not. Thaaaar be nothin' but a black horizon a'for all. 'Tis as useless as bailing yon tides with a bucket, a'yaaarr." Yars the Sea-Thing Man, seething quietly as it moves aside and back to the wheel till. He bellows in a combination of sea-hollar and yars, and the other freaks seem to understand well enough. Activity moving across the deck with Drowned Ophelia aboard once more. Althought strangely enough, that activity seems to focus around throwing out as many chained anchors as they can get a hold of. Not a good sign, as the aging ship creaks and groans. "Masochist? Sandere's not a masochist.." A pause as Ophelia peers towards the chipper half-Drowned healer, before smirking softly. "I'd call her 'honest'. 'Truthful to a fault'. And pain is a very real, very honest truth - something we all learn, soon enough." Emo much? Approaching the edge of the ship once again, Drowned Ophelia flashes that tight little smile in Sanary's direction again. "I was just enjoying the water. It's been a few hours since I last felt the cool squeezing the air from my lungs. It's shiver-worthy. But you remember that feeling, don't you, Sandere?" She holds up a hand, the Six Stringed Sorrow bubbling into existance between her claws. Eyes back on the water, the 'running mascara' of black tears quietly dripping from her cheeks. Speaking now to both of them. "I'll have to stay here and keep the way open; The Metal Gods will hear my screams, and my tears can flow even through this place. But are you willing to ..." A pause. ".. assist me, Mitsu? Sandere?" The way she says 'assist' is a lot like someone might say 'succulent hotdog'. "It may not be Lost Logia, then, but still - something wanted it safe." 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Well... seems they've already given up on their life. Oh well! "I see, I think..." she shrugs, before leaning up against the railings (if there are any). "Well, breaking and finding is pretty much my thing." she smirks, "I'm not noticing anything magical yet, but perhaps there's some protections I can't peirce." she hmms, taking a look around the ocean. "Perhaps we should share stories later, Captain. I'd be glad to tell you of my exploits if you share yours." she grins back at the captain before her attention is turned towards Ophelia.     "Honest, huh?" she turns back to Sanary and then towards Ophelia again, "Well, if... you say so. Though, I'd be glad to help if you need it, just try not to drown me, kay?" she grins and turns around.. "Kratzenfaust. Set up. Wild Striker Mode." ~Standby. Setup. Wild Striker.~ comes the german-sounding device, erupting a flash around the woman's body and replaces the outfit with a new one and the bracelets turn into massive gauntlets with three dagger-like blades upoon it. ~Kratzenfaust is ready, Master.~ 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "Honesty's important. If you're gonna talk shit about someone, it's better to say it to their faces. Or then you end up like me~" Sanary definitely sounds too cheerful as she says that, even bobbing her head a bit and smiling widely at Ophelia and Mitsu. "But the drowning helped a lot. Now, I don't have to worry about what people are saying behind mu back because they're calling me creepy to. My. Face~"      Another laugh and lean on the edge of the ship later, the healer rests her free hand on the edge while looking ready to leap right over the side. She doesn't, of course, since she's waiting for the go ahead. Although diving right in could be fun, too...      "Maybe it's in the water! Or... Oh, it's not as bad as it sounds. I mean, look at me. I feel freaking amazing! And like shit, but amazing shit!" Another laugh later, and she goes quiet whiel watching Mitsu's transformation with a curious glint in her eye. "Impressive... Heh. Oh, this will be /very/ fun~ Ready to move whenever." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Are you sure? It's so very peaceful when it's over; Letting yourself just float away from all that tied you down." Smiles Ophelia, and it's not a smile that gets anywhere near her eyes. In fact, that smile probably has a metaphorical restraining order out to keep those eyes as far away from 'cheerful' as they can be. And then Mitsu is transforming. A clawed curl of a finger pressing against her upper lip as she watches. Then asides to Sanary "... I wonder if you can drown logia?" A thoughtful look, before she shakes it off and steps up to the railing itself. The wood creaks beneath her as she grips the neck of her guitar, letting clawed hands splay over the guitar as she takes in a deep breath of salty air. A harsh, brittle laugh as she raises her hand, pointing finger at the ripping clouds above. "You -are- amazing shit, Sandere." She states, before she lets that hand arc downwards - and hits the strings hard. Drowned Ophelia leans over her guitar, somehow holding her balance as she begins thrashing hard at the Six Stringed Sorrow, the wake candle machineheads flaring to life with blue flames. Taking hold of the background hammer of Metal - molding it. Shaping it. Summoning the power of METAL. Beautiful ****'ing METAL, somehow mixed all up in a sea shanty's face. Lightning begins to flicker and crash into the ocean closer and closer to the ship, the water heaving as the chains holding the ship still groan in stress. Lightning finally hits off deck, and just -keeps- hitting in time to the steady thrash. Water swirls in on itself and suddenly spirals sharply downwards, a thin tidal pool forming to reveal a sunken temple below. The ship groans again, listing sideways as the water pulls hard at it, but the undead Sea-Thing Men had done their duties well - it holds for now. Drowned Ophelia is oblivious, communing with METAL through her music and keeping the path open. A few ropes are tossed over the edge by the Sea-Thing Men, who tie off the tops while the ends tumble to the dripping entrance below. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Mitsu shakes her head, "I'll be happy to not drown, thank you. I don't like water filling my lungs and I quite like being alive." she nods, holding herself steady as those lightning strikes get closer and closer. Though when the water parts and shows off that Sunken Temple... Mitsu grins widely. "Well, I'll be damned. I wonder what's in there. Kratzenfaust, scanning mode. Let's see if there's anything worth grabbing there." ~Understood.~ comes the ping from the Armed Device.     "Alright, just keep the ride ready for us when we need to get out." Mitsu nods, looking at Sanary. "I'm going in!" and with that, she backs up a bit... and a bit more... then she runs towards a mast, bounces off of it and runs off towards the edge. One bounce, two bounce, RABBIT BOUNCE and she's overboard! "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "If it's got a mouth, maybe! If not, we can just beat it to death if it's alive. Or..." Sanary furrows her brow for a moment while taking hold of a rope. "Maybe... We need to bring it back without destroying it, don't we? Aah... We'll figure it out when we get there. So many details, but worrying about all that won't get this job done!"      And with that, she flings herself right off the side of the boat. In retrospect, it probably would have been easier to lower herself with the rope cautiously, but this way's more fun! Plus, the burns on her hand from grabbing it to slow herself down just mean she knows she's still alive.      So much emo.      Sinking into the water like a rock with the gunaxe held above her, Sanary lets that water seep into her boots a bit before starting to wade out of it, trying to get into a more advantageous position with Mitsu as she scans their surroundings . "You know, Mitsu... I drowned, and I'm very alive. Medusa helped a lot with that, so... Maybe she'll help you out if you decide to try it."      She's still trying to be helpful, at least! Even if it still involves drowning. "Now let's see what we have here..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' At least she hasn't started cutting yet. I mean, cutting herself as opposed to other people. While Drowned Ophelia remains above, the haunting echo of METAL reverberating around the shuddering tunnel formed of the whirlpool, the temple below shivers in sympathy to the sound, small bits of debris rattling away. Bass will do that to a body, after all. The temple itself is of non-descript greco design - flexing columns surrounding a raised building of white, stained stone. Strange symbols of eons past are etched into the steps leading up towards the ruins, from which a faint gurgling eminates. The scans from Mitus' stolen Logia show that there IS something powerful here; Something raising the storm above that Drowned Ophelia briefly surmounted. While not nearly as powerful as a logia - those things are just flat out nuts - it does offer some reason for being about. Within the temple itself are occult statues, their forms muted by decades of decay until naught by oblong shapes and lines remain. But rather than an altar as one might expect is a staircase leading further down - the gurgling caused by water as it drains slowly away. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     ~Master. Large concentration of magic detected.~ comes Kratzenfaust and with a nod, and a THUNK of landing on the temple, she grins, "How far down?" she questions the device, taking a look around at some of the designs, "Interesting..." she grins, "Wonder what they mean." she moves to head down the offered stairs, and by offered, she means the ones that are there. She does wait a moment for Sanary, though, after all, she has to have SOMEONE to look out for her.     "So, Sanary... how do you know Ophelia?" she questions, "She's got some nice power there." 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "Oh, this place looks... Terrible~" Take that, architects! Sanary might have a pleasant grin and cheery tone in her voice, but that won't stop her from dishing out on their work here. "It smells. And everything's too wet. But the sooner we can find this logia or whatever, the sooner we can leave."      As if to add insult to injury (assuming those architects yet live), the healer with the axe brings up her weapon to tap it against one of the statues. "Reminds me of the ones back home... Except those people are still alive. Useless, but alive." She laughs and peers at the staircase, looking towards Mitsu and furrowing her brow a bit. "Where do you think this water's going? Back into the ocean, or deeper somewhere else?"      Not that it really matters to her, of course, but it's fun to think about these sorts of things sometimes! Well, until it starts making her feel dumb. % "I worked with her a few times. She's doing this Black Flags tour around the multiverse. Going around, breaking things, drowning people and their little dogs. I needed more power because I was too much of a wuss to drown a kid, so..." She gestures at herself and beams with that way-too-cheerful grin she's had on this whole time. "... Here we are. A little drowning really helps, you know? Not as bad as I thought it'd be. You should give it a shot~" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The report - as always - comes back. Thirty two meters down, north by northwest thirty three meters. Correction, north by northwest thirty meters. Correction, north by northwest, twenty seven meters. Correction, northwest, twenty seven meters.. Without the water and the strange protections that kept this place hidden, Kratzenfaust can get a much easier read on the magical item. NOT logia, but certainly magical. Problem is? The damn thing keeps -moving-. The statue that Sanary taps at with her gun axe clinks hollowly in the muggy air. Hollow, and likely made of some sort of enamel? There's very little light this far from the entrance, being as the whole place was underwater for a long time. The gurgling deepens, becoming more of a belch as air works its way out of the dark, winding staircase where one should find a proper altar. A few 'hiccups' of water splashing their way up, before the level goes far enough down that it starts echoing as it slurps away. The echoed sloshes becoming deeper and deeper. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     "Hmm." comes the concerned voice of MItsu, looking back towards Sanary. "You know, this drowning thing seems to not be a good idea." she comments, shaking her head some before turning back to thetask at hand. "And it's probably going back down, go, lead the way. I'll be behind you. You have the axe." she smirks a bit, "Besides, you seem to like being in the thick of things." she does mentally question Sanary's sanity, or whats left of it anyways. "Black Flags tour, huh? MIght have to get in on it if it isn't ending soon. Maybe I can find some good items to use against the TSAB."     Meanwhile, Kratzenfaust pings. ~It's moving. Unable to pinpoint location. It is below us, however.~ comes its voice, the Device seems to emit /some/ concern but not enough to trip anything. "Welp, here we go... wonder what's down there." a pause and she starts to head down, "Part for me, water. I got something to look for!" 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Sanary's cheerful demeanor holds steady even as her grimaces and occasional retching become more pronounced. The weird air is starting to get to the girl, even if she doesn't sound particularly distressed by all of it. It's almost like a strange... Mask of sorts? Whatever it is, it certainly isn't healthy.      "Oh, it's fine. I mean, sure, you'll probably throw up a couple of times, and it feels awful when it's happening. And..." Well, when she puts it that way, it really doesn't sound all that great, does it? Sanary simply shrugs and leaves it at that as she takse the lead with that same empty smile, her gunaxe ready to fire or slice or bash whatever threatens the two.      "Getting up close is fun. Really lets you feel it when you smash into something or cut it down. I'd recommend it if you've got nothing else going on, anyway. Ophelia got this giant bird the first day, you know. Wouldn't that be useful for a decoy or to just wreck things?"      At least she's still capable of coming up with ideas. Sanary raises an eyebrow when Mitsu's device speaks up, although she doesn't stop moving as she heads on down with Mitsu. "We're already this far. It's only delaying the inenemita... Emitan... Inventory... Ble."      The drowning might have messed with her head in other areas. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' DATELINE, THE OCEANIC RUINS! Above a maelstrom turns slowly, empowered NOT by Death Metal but by something older and deeper, buried in an ancient temple thirty meters below the surface of the ocean. A large, tight whirlpool spins and roars downwards along the decrepid sight, an aging pirate ship listing at its lip - held in place by as many chains and anchors as could be tossed aside. While the creaking, rotting wood groans like an aging man at the abuse, balance upon its rail is Drowned Ophelia, hammering away at her Six Stringed Sorrow - the strings glow, alit with power, burning her as she plays. She won't be able to hold the passage for too much longer. Down below, the duo of Sandere and Rabbit had made their way inside the secreted temple, where strange oblong enamel shapes held visage before a sunken staircase. Here, where there should be an alter, stairs lead further and further down towards the source of magical power that Mitsu's Kratzenfaust had picked up. The water continues to drain, making the steps slippery and treacherous as they descend. The tight spiral slowly loosening as the walls disappear, leaving one precariously suspended over - A chamber. Built into the bedrock below the temple, sixty meters in diameter. The center appears to be a recessed lake, with a thick shelf rolling high around the outer edges. Above, the staircase punches through the rounded ceiling like a needle - injecting priests? Sacrifices? It was hard to say. Holes cover the ceiling as well in a single cirlce, appearing as humanoid. The side of this cavern has crumbled away with age, however, revealing a drop to the whirling abyss below, where the water twists and turns in its vortex. Falling out of that could be fatal to a lesser being. Water gurgles and churns as it pours from this break, the entire thing unstable as sea water pours away. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Correction - 60 meters in radius, 120 meters in diamters 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' What a strange place. Sanary -or Sandere- is plodding along down those stairs, a vauge hum escaping her even as her feet keep slipping around from the wetness of those stairs. Either she's not worried about slipping right off, or she's just not showing it, but she does come dangerously close to falling several times even though she's been so cheerful about the whole thing.      "What are the chances it's some person down there? Someone trapped in a rock for years or something?" She muses idly, hopping off the last few steps and landing on a hastily-conjured disc. She's really starting to get the hang of using these things, isn't she? She lets out a half-blowing half-whistling noise as the chamber is revealed, peering upwards at the strange shapes of... People? Whatever they are up there, then downwards into the abyss.      "Ooh... That looks like a fun place to take a dip." Sanary giggles lightly and focuses for a moment as she conjures up several more of those discs, letting them gather into the air around her before continuing onwards. "MAybe we can do that later after we find Ophelia's... Thing." 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     Strange place indeed. The Rabbit continues alongside Sanary, keeping her Device at the ready, just in case. "You might want to be somewhat careful. I know jumping off a boat into a temple is fun but, I don't really want to have to rescue a falling woman from her doom. And I think Ophelia would have my head for it." she gives a bit of a chuckle, carefully heading down. She may be reckless but there's /some/ things she doesn't do. Like race down possibly wet stairs.     ~Approximately thirty five percent.~ comes the reply from Kratzenfaust at Sanary's question, "it could be something, but hey, we don't know yet." she grins a bit and continues down, "But, we're not taking a dip in this, I'd rather go to a pool above ground." she thinks a moment, "Maybe I can come by your place and we can go for a swim."     MItsu takes a good look around, continuing down and down, "Hey, Kratzenfaust, what do you sense? Something doesn't seem to feel right here." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Interestingly enough, the chamber itself is roughly one hundred and twenty meters in diameter as well. If seen from the outside, it would have appeared as a perfect sphere with the ring around the inside. Of course, now-a-days it looks more like a cracked egg, with the walls warped from the crumbling weight of the temple above it, and the hole in the side leading out to the abyss. Which makes the fact that the original estimate of the location was 'thirty meters down' very, VERY intersesting. The information Mitsu requested of her Logia comes back almost immediately: 'Master. Sixty meters to your left flank. Fifty Five. Fifty..' It ripples in the air; Not invisibility, but a tactile camoflague - an optical illusion. But once it starts moving, its easier to see when it peels away from the inside wall - a huge creature. It would fill the tank below half-way from rim to rim, its bottom half trailing tendrils that cling to the smooth wall with depressing ease. It's front half formed more towards terrestrial animals - save for the six limbs. Two smaller arms folded in on themselves across its abdomen; Two much larger arms, comprised of a comlex jointed blade taller than many houses. And two wipping, lashing 'tentacles' on back, a parody of wings on short boney 'joints'. Lights slowly illuminate the creature, running from deep in its rubbery flesh until the bioluminescence crawls across the 'face'. Tentacles unfold and unpack from one another on either side of the 'nose', and a lamprey like circle of teeth is wetly displayed on either side of its head. And then it SHRIEKS. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbardijIies 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "Oh, don't worry. I've got ways to not fall, and I'm even better at them now!" As if to demonstrate, Sanary looks like she's about to just jump off the edge right then and there, but she stops when Kratzenfaust speaks up. Crisis averted! "Ooh... You want to come over? I'll make sure to have some good food prepared, then. I hope you like spring rolls and curry~"      At least that hasn't changed too much. Turning from Mitsu to the ripples in the air, the healer squints her eye briefly as the shape starts to... Take shape. "That doesn't look friendly. Ah, maybe we can drown this and bring it back with us!" Her grin grows a little wider, a little more maniacal as those discs form up like swarm of handle-less pizza cutters.      "Or we could just kill it. Either works." And with that, the pizza cutters go flying! What they lack in size, they might make up for with sheer quantity as the steel-like discs go flying every which way. Thankfully, they're only heading straight instead of coming back around. Even in this state, Sanary's still not going to ignore the possibility of friendly fire! 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     "That sounds wonderful." she grins, "Spring rolls, curry... I'll bring some sushi too." she bounces a bit, carefully, but heads on guard when Kratzenfaust speaks up. "Really? Let's get ready." the sound of shotgun shells being loaded echoes through the chamber, "Careful with those disks if they're what I think they are." a pause, "Heh, I think we can do something here." magic seems to flare up within the Mage and Mitsu throws the Rabbit Hole up into the air, a black hole appears in front of Sanary and another appears near the thing!     "Fire things into that and it'll come out the other hole." she smiles, "I can't move it from here but, I don't think you can miss." and with this, the Rabbit looks around curiously for any good foot holds and pillars then... she runs past Sanary and bounces off here and there and then comes down, swiping the air to make crecent waves of blue lightning rain down on it!     "Kratzenfaust, scan for any weak points and ready the shield." she commands, letting gravity carry her down, the gaunlet's blades aimed down so they can stab once she meets flesh. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Sanary's flying discs seem so tiny compared to the massive creature - but they carve deeply in, the creature's warbling shriek shuddering stone as it -leaps- forward. It crashes into the then spire of the staircase just as the duo leave it, the stone crumbling like crackers before the massive creature. It strikes the far wall - and the whole area shudders and tilts. The chamber itself is a giant sphere, with a rim on the inside; It depended on the stabilizing structure of the curve, rather than any pillars. But now cracked and without the seawater to support it, the whole thing is beginning to crumble. Mitsu's crests of blue lightning ripple along the creature as well, its flesh left glowing faintly where the charring occured. Ah, but she's not the only one with that trick. Even as the deep, groaning sound of collapsing begins to eminate from the walls - and the 'fish bowl' tilt sideways before settling, more and more water pouring out of the crack - the creature sinks into the water proper. A multitude of eyes stare up in opposite directions at the two, as the twin tentacles along the back suddenly begin glowing brighter. They raise slowly, twitching and wiggling, as electricity arcs between them. The snapping, hissing lines of lightning build brighter and brighter as the limbs approach, faint ethereal lines coallescing around the creature's form - until, with a thunderous BOOM lightning lances out in all directions. Striking stone, water, ceiling and - with hope - the girls. The creature crawling out from the water, seeming to disappear as it presses flat against the walls. One can see the hideous flesh bulging and twisting as it forms the same texture as what lays behind it, color quickly flowing across. Not invisbility - but darn close in these dim lights. The Logia, meanwhile, responds: -Master, the primary source of build-up appear to be in the mid-section. Analysis indicates the discharge is identical to a natural lightning strike, as seen above.- 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' A hole? Sanary's staring at it in confusion for a few moments until Mitsu explains its purpose, and an impish grin crosses the... Wait. She's already grinning. Still, if she wasn't, she totally would be now! "Oh... /That/ is a useful ability. I think we're gonna do just fine here."      And then there's lightning freaking EVERYWHERE. On one hand, Sanary's not wearing either set of armor that's particularly susceptible to lightning today. On the other hand, she's not wearing ANY armor today. All she has is her big dumb shield and her swarm of magically conjured bullshit to rely on!      Right. Magically conjured bullshit. Gathering up her discs around the shield, she uses them to carry the whole thing in front of her and use it as a remote barrier against the lightning, keeping the brunt of it away from her lightning-allergic body parts like her... Everything! She still cringes as some errant blasts of lightning strike against her sides and legs, however, buckling a bit and being forced to use some of her energy on healing magic to mitigate the pain.      "Tricky, tricky... Ah, you can ai better. Go nuts, Mitsu!" The healer punches the ground and holds her hands out as a beam of odd green light surges out of her towards the Rabbit, trying to link the two together. Should it work, it'll give Mitsu direct access to the healer's own energy reserves for whatever magic she might want to bust out!      Sanary's not just going to let Mitsu do all the work, of course, as she takes note of the nigh-invisiblity demonstrated by the creature. She activates the infrared vision matrix in her eye to try and get a better look at it, then launches more discs through that black hole to try and catch the thing either from behind or where she had last seen it. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     "Go nuts." she tells the disc flinging woman. Mitsu would crack her knuckles but she's kinda got massive gauntlets on her hands. "I don't think we have long here, we have to destroy this thing and get that heart for Ophelia." a grin is given as the lightning ripples over and charrs where it hits, though something concerns her as those tentacles move. As the lightning starts sparking around, Mitsu pulls up an energy barrier in a fancy looking pattern as the lightning strikes. "Nngh, damnit." she grumbles, landing on a broken pillar only to scan her eyes, wait, where did it go.     She gives a brief nod to her Device, "So all I gotta do is charge it." she takes a deep breath and readies herself for something possibly very stupid. At least, until that green light links her up with Sanary. The surge of mana gives the Mage a shiver of delight and she lets out a cheerful noise. "Oh man, what a surge. Sanary, can you shield me, Imma go get eaten!"     Mitsu slams her gauntlets together, fist bumping herself before leaping off and kicking off things towards the wall where that creature was, "Open wide, I'm coming in!" she shouts, making a few more ranged swipes at it, the blue lightning arcs have grown in size from the increase in mana. "Heeee, this is going to be FUN!" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' There's good things and bad things about fighting creatures from the black depths; Good thing - they aren't much for tactics, usually sticking to whatever instinctual trick worked for them so far. Bad thing - they aren't warm blooded. Infrared does do one good thing, however - it lights up those tentacles along the back, where the lightning vortex exploded. The residual heat is obvious, spots of brighter color along the wall where the thing is moving. The sudden appearance of Sanary's flying discs sinking into its squishy flesh once more brings a squeal of rage from the creature, which instinctively jerks back. The smooth change of color and texture broken, looking for all the world like a busted jpeg artifact given life for just a moment. Its bleeding, slick green blood splattering the ground as those tiny discs continue to dig and eventually lodge - but there's just SO MUCH FLESH. Multitudes of eyes roll as it refocuses on Sanary - and then on Mitsu as she leaps in, following instinct. Bioluminesense glows in rippled tides across the monster as it abandons stealth, huge scythe arms framing on either side of the Rabbit; Tiny arms coming off its abdomen, revealing a sucking wound with a pearly orb glowing beneath the flesh. Lodged. It looks to 'help' Mitsu along, sharp toothed tentacles folding out of the way and a wet lempry mouth presented from the side of its head - as it looks to swallow her whole. Triumphantly! And then it's attention will turn towards Sanary with a low, dark throaty rattle..@emit There's good things and bad things about fighting creatures from the black depths; Good thing - they aren't much for tactics, usually sticking to whatever instinctual trick worked for them so far. Bad thing - they aren't warm blooded. Infrared does do one good thing, however - it lights up those tentacles along the back, where the lightning vortex exploded. The residual heat is obvious, spots of brighter color along the wall where the thing is moving. The sudden appearance of Sanary's flying discs sinking into its squishy flesh once more brings a squeal of rage from the creature, which instinctively jerks back. The smooth change of color and texture broken, looking for all the world like a busted jpeg artifact given life for just a moment. Its bleeding, slick green blood splattering the ground as those tiny discs continue to dig and eventually lodge - but there's just SO MUCH FLESH. Multitudes of eyes roll as it refocuses on Sanary - and then on Mitsu as she leaps in, following instinct. Bioluminesense glows in rippled tides across the monster as it abandons stealth, huge scythe arms framing on either side of the Rabbit; Tiny arms coming off its abdomen, revealing a sucking wound with a pearly orb glowing beneath the flesh. Lodged. It looks to 'help' Mitsu along, sharp toothed tentacles folding out of the way and a wet lempry mouth presented from the side of its head - as it looks to swallow her whole. The large crescents of energy ripping into the form, causing it to seizure and twist about as its grounded. Charred flesh glowing in stripes across its huge form! Even as more arcs of wild electricity hiss outwards from the tentacle wings on its back, grounding all around it. Much weaker than the vortex, but painful in their own fashion. Down the hatch, Mitsu! 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "This thing can hide some of itself from that, too...? Clever~" Sanary's not the sharpest spoon in the crayon box, but she does have stubbornness and a dangerous ally on her side! "I don't have shield, but... Well, if it doesn't kill you, I can probably fix you up quick!"      The power of healing links. Even as Mitsu dives right in there, Sanary maintains that magical link to the Mage to boost her natural regeneration to superhuman levels. Wounds heal almost as quickly as they're inflicted, excess mana surges into the Rabbit to let her draw from the healer's own power directly, and there's even a bit of pain relief mixed in to help alleviate some of the most crippling pain!      There's also a bit of a weird aftertaste in it all as if there's still something in there that shouldn't quite be there, but at least it's not going into Mitsu as it is just existing. Probably not a big deal.      Outside of the creature, the healer starts getting a little more aggressive with those discs as she whips them back and forth in the air. Although she can't see where the creature's body is, she can still try to drive the not-pizza cutters further into it! Mostly aiming at the surrounding limbs that Mitsu had already passed, but a lot of it is guesswork from how much of the creature is still concealed. 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     The power of healing links for the win. Wait, wasn't it her who was telling /Sanary/ to be careful and yet she jumps right into the mouth? Oh well. With the squirming around that the thing's doing, Mitsu has only one real goal, that nice shiny object. "Alright, here we go..." she mutters, holding her breath as she takes some of that energy from Sanary... "Kratzenfaust, let's give this thing a massive, internal shock..." ~Understood. Static Discharge.~ and with more shotgun shell like magic cartridges being expended, she /might/ be helping it along, but most importantly, she's looking to overload it.     Mitsu /does/ see the pearl... and she just used her little black hole device to let Sanary go nuts with it.. so she'll try to go in even further as Kratzenfaust charges up... ~Eighty. Ninety. One hundred percent.~ "Do it!" and on command, the gauntlets overload with a massive electrical burst from the inside, hoping to fry the flesh around... sushi anyone?     While she's launching the shocking gauntlets, she'll dive in more to try and swipe up that pearl... and hopefully to get out in one peice. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The blades that Sanary toss do their job brilliantly - just perhaps not in the manner that the healer had hoped. The wild arcing strikes begin curling inwards - scathing into the monsters flesh as they ground to the metal and the 'short circuit'. It howls in rage, color scheme lost as its flesh goes through wild convulsions.. And then Mitsu lights it up from the inside. One can see bright flashes exploding along her journey in and through the monster, its torso tossed one way and the another by the swelling protrusions. And then Mitsu rips her way out like a rabbit shaped xenomorph, trailing sparking guts and viscera behind her. As well as the 'Heart of the Ocean'. The creature shudders, electricity burning away at its flesh, ripples of inerno and char chasing their way across it over and over. And then the head explodes. BRUTAL FINISH. It collapses, sliding bonelessly against the wall. And then the whole place begins to groan once more, slabs of stone falling from above... 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Mission complete! Or... Wait. Not yet. They just killed the load-bearing boss, and they're still inside! Whoops. Sanary still sounds as happy as ever as she cflies over to where Mitsu and the dead lamprey are, sounding about as ceerful as she's been for the past week or so.      "Mitsu, Mitsu! Nice work in there. As fun as it'd be to get crushed here, we should probably get the thing back, hm~?" At least she has her priorities straight. The healer is sweating a bit from exertion as she draws her shield and discs back, using the former almost like a paddling board to keep her steady while she starts for the stairs they used to get in here in the first place.      She's hoping those stairs are still there, anyway. It'd be quite a pickle if they weren't! 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     RIP, TEAR, EXPLODE... and get the "Heart of the Ocean" while she's at it. All in a days work for the treasure hunter mage. Except... load bearing boss. "Well. Crap." she gives a bit of a shrug and shakes off the viscera on her before grinning widely. "So, Sanary. I know I told you to be careful but..." she giggles a bit, "Maybe I lied. But yes, good idea, let's get this back to Ophelia. She'll be happy... I think... to have this." and with a nod, she just follows alongside Sanary.. for a few brief moments before using something as a spring board to hop up on what's left of any kinda stairs.     Or into the air... or on Sanary... either way works.     Oh, and to recover her Logia. She might need this later. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The cause of the commotion becomes apparent when the teo reach the temple once more - The music has stopped, only a subdued echo fading in the air. Water begins to crash down from above as the whirlpool collpases. The ropes dangle just ahead, a promise of extraction, while up above the Queen of Tears is holding up scorched claws.. The Six String Sorrows lines blazing like living magma. She held it as long as she could, but every guitar solo must inevitably come to an end. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "Oh, what's a little white lie here and there? Worrying about things like that'll just give you a migraine~" Sanary certainly doesn't seem worried about... Well, any of this. The faaling rocks, the previous threat of danger, the very real risk of getting taken down to the abyss by all these falling rocks... If nothing else, drowning has certianly put a lot of things into perspective!      Like being a team player. Although it takes some getting used to, she'll even provide Mitsu with a springboard using her shield as the... Springboard! Once they both get to those ropes, the healer lets her discs handle the actually carrying of that shield before climbing up the thing because...      ... Actually, why /does/ she do that? Wouldn't it have been easier to just fly the rest of the way up? Oh well. "And that's that, Ophelia! So. What's the priiiize~?" 

:'''{{#var:982|Mitsu Mirage (982)}} has posed:'''     It's always nice when what she wants to hop off of cooperates. "Thanks for the springboard." she comments as she goes flying and soon up the rope. "Now, all I gotta do is come up and deliver it to her." up and up and up she goes on the rope, it does take her a bit when she can't fly. No need to fix that either.     Coming aboard the ship, she blinks a bit at the 'guitar' literally on fire... "Well, I never seen someone rock that hard, I'm surprised you wern't immolated." she gives a bit of a chuckle and holds out the Heart.... "Here, I think you want this." 
}}

4127/White Noise And Black Static

2016-09-29T12:45:15Z

MiserEnoch: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2016/05/19 |Location=Slum Urbania |Synopsis=Post-Battle of Avatar World. Sanary has been badly corrupted by her link to Drowned Ophelia - so the ob..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2016/05/19
|Location=Slum Urbania
|Synopsis=Post-Battle of Avatar World. Sanary has been badly corrupted by her link to Drowned Ophelia - so the obvious answer is to drown her. Rise, Sandere! Blessed by the power and madness of the Sea of Black Tears.
|Cast of Characters=975, 990, 22, 714
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' It'd been a hard tour season for the Drowning Doom; Four worlds, and four technical losses. But the Queen of Tears had proven her point each and every world: The Union was vulnerable. The living were vulnerable. How quickly and easily it was to throw entire areas into chaos and corruption with a light pressing force. And now they've once more come here, to the Slum Urbania; The bottom of the drain, where all the poor, the crazed, the destitute, the hopeless and the deranged fell. All of them. All the horrible, nasty places where life was cheaper than next hour's sandwich, all poured together here. So bad they actually stitched skyscrappers together to keep it from leaking to the 'better' parts of Urbania. A swirling maelstrom of misery - and literally at that, with dark stormclouds crackling above a particular section of this place. There, the Drowning Doom has taken court. From the Brutal Lands, 'battle of the bands' is a very literal thing, more akin to an invading army than a concert. Here they take their repose, soaking in the misery, regathering their forces of Tear Drinkers - the freakish undead. The miserable, the sorrowful, the hateful are invited further in; Sup the Black Tears, take the power, sink and rise once again as something new and twisted and strong. Never hurt again. Others are more forcibly brought to heel, drowned in puddles formed in the street as black rain falls from unnatural storm clouds. A bare tree grows from a particular rooftop, its roots digging deep - supernatural crows silently keeping watch in all directions. All around it prance and cackle the Tear Drinkers, from the NecroMoshers stolen from Middle Earth to the Dorcs roaming the abandoned cafes ('But you wouldn't know about it, it's pretty underground), the ghostly reapers riding their skeletal horses at break neck speeds along the alleyways as they cackle madly, heads bobbing to the music in their headphones. Disembodied heads pulled along by spidery hair, bloat-bellied men who gurgle and giggle at bellies filled with living rats. The freaks. The disenchanted. The dead. DROWNING DOOM. And amongst it all is Drowned Ophelia, reclining beneath that bare limbed tree, quietly turning the candle machine heads of her Six Stringed Sorrow while Death Metal reverberates in the air. Something unholy and powerful. Themesong: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NY3A2RIaUs 

:'''{{#var:990|Jedah Dohma (990)}} has posed:''' A high pitched cackling is hidden by the music and cacophony. Jedah flies several circuits around the general area to get a feel for what's going on. His keen sight sees the woman with the dark instrument. The unholiness actually makes him feel more comfortable, more relaxed. He dives in near the Drowning Doom and then hovers for a long moment, before presenting himself to Ophelia with a bow. "Hello, sister. I am Jedah Dohma. I felt your power, and came to investigate," He says with a flourish. There's a tiny Confederate insignia badge on his chest, so maybe that will tell her that he's on her side. He's rather tall, although not compared to most demons. His clothes resemble a japanese school uniform, except fitting to his form. There's a sinister gleam in his eyes. Clearly this suffering is something in which he delights. His regal air will probably keep most of the minions from bothering him. His wings and claws appear to be blades more than anything. He awaits her reply, wondering if there's something he can do to aid her, or if this is more of a social call? 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Demon!" "DEMON!" Goes the call down the line, and amidst buildings spotlights snap to life. The lights swinging up into the sky to track Jedah as he approaches, a soulful clang of a deep bell toning from somewhere; A call to action, to alertness. Drowned Ophelia lazy straightens once more as the demonic aristocrat approaches - introduces - and awaits. A small, brittle smile slides up her blue-tinted features, the 'running mascara' under her eyes weeping slowly. "You're not Tained Coil at all, are you? No ball gags." A single lift of her hand halts the trembling tree behind her, and fingers slide down along the Six Stringed Sorrow - a low, moaning scream from the guitar as it crashes down through the octaves. The Drowning Doom - relaxes. Spotlights flick back off, and the PARTY presses on. Drowned Ophelia glides, pushing a finger to her lower lip - a claw trailed along Jedah's shoulder. "Hey, I like the outfit. Real suave. Nice wings... Fed too, huh?" That brittle smile becomes a dark little grin. "Pleasure's mine, though I'm not your sister. Most people just call me Ophelia.." "Although 'augh no stop don't take my eyes' works too." 

:'''{{#var:990|Jedah Dohma (990)}} has posed:''' Jedah eyes her curiously and asks,"Tainted Coil? That's a new one," and he relaxes a little when he is accepted as an ally, if not merely someone who isn't saving everybody from their doom. "Sister in spirit if not in flesh, but Ophelia works, too." He stretches his wings a bit. "Yes, I, too, serve the Confederacy. Looks like you're doing well here," he says, observing the conversion of the slum denizens. "Is there aught I can do to aid you? Or I can just watch," he says. It's clear he's experiencing mild bloodlust, but is controlling it. This isn't his gig, after all. As he notices the tears consuming the people, he wonders if it's similar to his own blood. His mind goes over about a dozen tests, but no, that would be rude. No peeking under the hood this early. Still, he seems intrigued by it. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     Footsteps across the asphalt heralds yet anther arrival.     It's not the first time the witch has been to the slums in Urbania. Though she might appear to be out of place at first glance as she enters the area that has been overtaken by the undead and claimed in the name of their morbid mistress. Now much of her face is seen as she walks down the street, her snakeskin coat obscuring her upper face. The attache case she's carrying with her doesn't exactly match her knee length black dress either, and despite all the nasty creatures that are gathered here, she walks as if she was talking a calm stroll through a sunlit park. Though there is something about her that doesn't match her calm demeanour as she approaches the building with the tree. If the presence of a witch soul isn't enough to keep the undead from approaching her, then perhaps a sharp glance from underneath the hood of her snakeskin coat will give them second thoughts about approaching her.     Only when she is near the tree and the two other figures there does she speak up in a friendly and somewhat sweetly tone. "My, I do hope I'm not interrupting. Especially since my expertise was requested...?" Her hand reaches up to the hood of her coat, flipping it back and reveals a the head of a blonde woman with a soft smile on her face. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Sanary hasn't been having much luck in her past few missions working with the Drowning Doom. Sure, combat-wise, she's done better than even she could have expected, but mentally...      All those links to Drowned Ophelia have taken a toll on her mind, and now? Now, she's... Well. She's not doing all that great mentally nor physically. Physically, she has a fair amount of bruising around her face and probably a good amount of dried blood caked into her hair from getting smacked around by a swamp thing. Nothing some bedrest, healing magic, and a lot of cleaning to get the swamp gunk out wouldn't handle. Mentally, though...      Well, it's not like she enjoys lying in bed muttering to herself or anything. She's just... Doing a lot of it. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Yeah. Crew of demons from my world. Real douchebags with bad taste in Metal and a thing for bondage gear, you know? They tend to show up and mess shit up. ****'ing assholes." Another light smirk, cussing as casual as talking to the Queen of Tears as she turns, arms clasped together behind her. Sarcasm her natural tongue "Yeah, you like it? Good atmosphere, great neighbors. I don't need another man in my life right now, but hey - if you want to voyeur, I've got just the peep show for you."She unclasps her clawed hands, and wiggles one of those large digits in a 'follow me' motion as she's moving towards the stairwell. Just in time too, as Medusa finally appears; Unmolested by the Tear Drinkers. After all, you need to be able to feel sorrow to drown in it~ Besides, she's just as freakish as the crazed undead in her own way; That alone buys her passage amongst the Drowning Doom. "Oh, hey. Good timing." The light tone, the soft little smile, it's all perfectly harmless - but the eyes. Unblinking and crazed as the rest of her subjects - but it's madness with DIRECTION. With motivation! A tendril of the ichor slides away from her dress, opening the stairwell down as she speaks. "You know I managed to drown an elite, Doc? Took almost everything I had, and for a small one too. And Sanary's got a lot more potential locked up in her;" A glance back, as the Queen of Tears glides down the stairwell to the room below. There is Sanary, as stated in her pose, muttering to herself upon the bed. "But she's caught in a half way point; I can help her finish it, but I need someone around able to help people stay .. -alive-." A faint shrug, and a gesture. "My methods are really only useful after they die, and I'm pretty sure the Feds would look poorly on that. You up for a trip, Doc?" 

:'''{{#var:990|Jedah Dohma (990)}} has posed:''' Jedah eyes the new arrival with a smile. He bows, and then hangs back, following the other two wordlessly. This might help him with his own research one day. He'll need test subjects of his own at some point. He observes Sanary at a distance. A human? This seems a bit sketchy, but Jedah's not one to interfere in others' nefarious plans. He pulls out his pocket notebook, linked to the Illustrated Primer of Dark Science back home, and makes some notes in a cross between Abyssal and short-hand. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     When she's referred to as 'doc', Medusa chuckles softly with a cant of her head. "Oh, I'm no physician, no need to be so formal either, dear," she assures the other woman and follows her down the stairwell. As for the state of the other healer, now that's a different matter. The witch narrows her eyes slightly as she walks up to the bed where Sanary is resting. The muttering is unlike her. "Hmmm. There have been a lack of reports, would you please fill me in on what's happened with her?" She wastes no time and walks over to sit down on the edge of the bed. The attache case is set aside, and Medusa leans over Sanary, peering down at her, trying to see if she will look up at her. If not, she will raise her hand and snap her fingers there. "Sanary? Can you hear me?" Hmm. This is most curious. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' It takes a while for Sanary to even register that there's other people around, although she does appear to relax just a bit when Medusa makes her presence known. Emphasis on 'a bit', however, since her expression is still mostly vacant. Even the snap of her fingers just gets the one-eyed healer to stop muttering, although it takes a little while longer for her to finally speak up quietly.      "H... Hey, Medusa. You didn't need to come here. Should've just..." Alright, so she's still muttering, but at least it's easier to understand now. Spotting Jedah, she looks him over slowly before resting her head back down and chuckling quietly. ".. Ah. He'll be a good replacement. Better than I'd ever manage..." 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia raises eyebrows as she watches Jedah scribble, before Medusa mentions the lack of reports. That cool little smirk again. "Oh, yeah.. that's a thing, isn't it?" She settles to the other side of Sanary, quietly brushing claws through the woman's black hair. It's not loving or friendly; It's almost possessive. The Queen of Tears leaning back a bit, taping her lip with a finger. "Mm, I think it probably began with the first leg of the Black Flags tour. She linked up with me." A glance to Medusa, that smirk growing a bit wider. ".. And she got stronger for it the second time. I could see it; FEEL it. So, I decided to see if I can help her along, you know? She's so -very- useful. But the more she connected with me, the less stable she became, hm?" Claws pause their stroke of Sanary's black hair as she snaps awake, before going back to the previous motion. Combing out tangles. "So I pushed her. It's love that's holding her back, you know; I tried to have her drown some little friend of hers. Toph, I think? Oh, that one has -so many- people who love her. Sending them her cold corpse would've wrecked havoc along the Union lines." A cold smile down to Sanary. "She just wasn't strong enough. But, Sanary - I've got a way to fix that. To make the heartache stop, to make you.. irreplacable. It just takes a little swim, a few brief moments of pain.. " A glance to Medusa. ".. And a little know-how in Elites." 

:'''{{#var:990|Jedah Dohma (990)}} has posed:''' Jedah puts his pen to his fangs, tapping them softly, not noticeably. Remove her positive human emotions? Make her sociopathic? It might work. Jedah thinks that splicing her DNA of something a little more durable or stronger might be easier. Leave her in full control of her emotions and will. A thinking, feeling soldier is better than a monster, but who's he to judge? More scribbles. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     A delayed reaction. Is she hallucinating, perhaps? Neural damage? When Sanary speaks though, Medusa simply smiles reassuringly down at the girl as she reaches out to pat her hand. "Oh, but I did have to come here. It's my job, after all."     Her attention shifts to Ophelia when she speaks. "Linked with you, you say? What does that involve?" Of course she's curious, and it will be easier to help Sanary if she has all the information at hand. "Of course she's useful, she's a Confederate officer, and she's been helping me out at my ward as well. And too much instability will compromise her ability to perform her duties..."     Whatever Ophelia has done to her she's entirely sure of yet, and while she notices the way Ophelia dotes on the younger woman, Medusa doesn't comment on it where she sits, her expression serious with the former smile replaced. "Love can indeed hold some people back. But it can also push them over the edge. Remember, the absence of love is not hate. It's apathy. Sure, you could send the Union corpses," Medusa offers with a shrug of her shoulders, "but do remember that it has consequences. Consider them well the next time, and make sure to report about these things from now, hmmm~?" 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Sanary's hair could certainly use some conditioner. One step at a time! At least she washes it frequently, even if the swamp gunk might have made it a little gunkier than normal. Not that she's all that concerned with that at the moment, but still.      At the very least, she is still capable of talking and responding. Quietly, though, and Sanary's also doing a lot of sighing while looking not unlike someone that failed a stupidly easy exam.      "The linking thing... Uh. I do the thing, and then whoever's using magic or whatever can... Do it more." How descriptive. Of course, even trying to talk about that has her chuckling again, and not in the amused happy way. "Better off just doing that forever if I can't get anything done right myself..." 

:'''{{#var:990|Jedah Dohma (990)}} has posed:''' Jedah says, "There are a few references in the ancient texts of bonding like that, though they're mystical in nature and I don't fully understand them. Each person mixes natures, like mixing paint or letting pigment flow through water. As a budding scientist, if this is to proceed, we need Sanary's consent, something she's not able to give it would seem. When humans despair, they typically die, whereas demons such as myself can despair for centuries. "Has the link affected you, Ophelia?" Jedah is not going to interfere, but he feels an obligation as a scientist to speak up, especially as Medusa shares his concerns. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "She linked."Hers faint shrug of the shoulders from Drowned Ophelia, as Sanary explains it further. Black lips coo, a mockery of a caring creature. "I think it's a bit like plugging an amp into an amp; Feedback. I got a little bit of her in me.." A glance up to Medusa, that cold smile once more. ".. And she got a little bit of me in her. She's drowning." The claws pause, and then spiderwalk up to tap Sanary on the forehead. Make sure that the dark creature has her attention. "True; You'll never be as useful when you can't make the hard decisions. You can't save the stupid from being stupid; You can't save the weak from being weak. Not all of them." Ophelia twists her head a bit, hair drooping around her own features. "Did it hurt when Toph realized it was you who was going to kill her? That's the chink in your armor, Sanary. That's what's holding you back; Just like it held me back." The cruel morbid mistress turns her attention back to Medusa, and laughs. "Apathy's perfect. Apathy's -my- strength, Medusa. That's what the black tears offer; An cessation of pain, a growth of power.." She speaks to both, now. "It makes your weakness your strength. You go under - and you rise. New, and powerful. What will poison the Union, surpress their will to continue, is precisely what drives my Drowning Doom forward. You're worried about her being able to fulfill her duties?" A flash of white teeth. "Then come with me and keep her heart beating. The only way to escape temptation is to go through it; To let her sink and rise anew, stronger in every way for her loss." And then she looks to Jedah, and tilts her head again. "Affected me? Well... You're here, aren't you, demon?" A litling chuckle. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     This is a curious concept, and Medusa peers down at Sanary. Does she believe she's a failure now? When Jedah speaks of consent, the witch lets out a snort. "Even heavily senile people can give consent in varying degrees." It's all relative, and you just need to ask in the right way.     One can practically see the serpentine woman thinking as Ophelia speaks and coddles Sanary in her own twisted way. At the question she shakes her head a bit. "No, I'm not worried. I'm merely doing my job in making sure that things progress as they should." Slowly, Medusa leans forward, getting closer to her ear. "Do you /want/ Ophelia to drown you?" she asks Sanary directly. "And do you want me to keep you alive? It will most likely hurt a fair bit." Sanary should be well aware of some of Medusa's methods. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Sanary's eye follows Drowned Ophelia's claws idly as they trail up her face, and she winces very briefly at that tap to the forehead. Her gaze shifts away, however, when she's addressed directly, and she lets out a quiet sigh before shrugging and somehow managing to slump further into the bed.      She's probably nailed it right on the head there.      The talk of consent seems to be going right over the apprentice healer's head both figuratively and literally, although she does glance between Jedah and Medusa a few times before finally settling on the latter when Medusa asks Sanary directly. Sanary's not completely out of it, at least, since her eye does widen a bit at the notion of being drowned. "For... Experiments or something? If you need a test subject, sure... Whatever."      Still going over her head. "I... Uh. It's better than being dead, right?" 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     It's clear that Sanary is reduced mentally as well as physically. Yet she did answer the question in a manner that Medusa expected her to. Satisfied with the answer, Medusa reaches out and pats Sanary on the cheek in a motherly fashion and sits up. "We'll take care of you, dear."     Her eyes glance at Ophelia, then nods. "How are you going to do this? I will need to know so I can prepare equipment." 

:'''{{#var:990|Jedah Dohma (990)}} has posed:''' Jedah touches his finger to his blinking comm. "Jedah, sir, Bko's made some progress on the design for the device. We think you should come see it," Jedah sighs and says,"Well, it appears I will miss out on this one. I wish you luck," his concerns assuaged, he prepares to leave. "Thank you for your hospitality, Ophelia," and to Medusa,"A pleasure to meet you," 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' "Oh, I don't know about that.. I kinda like it, personally." States Drowned Ophelia, skin blue and lips black. Claws draw back down through black hair, and are finally lifted away. "Experimentation? ... Close enough. And hey, what girl doesn't like to experiment now and again?" That bitter smile that never quite touches the eyes as Ophelia rises, claws flexing slowly in on themselves. A glance to Medusa, and then to Jedah - before she sways past them both towards the glass window. Glancing back to Medusa and her patient, a flash of white teeth. "If she were anyone else, I'd simply cut a vein and let her drink her fill of it; But for an elite? We're going to the source; The Sea of Black Tears. That's where I drowned, in the end - seems a good place for her to begin as well. And.. I'm being very literal." A look to Jedah, a sultry little wink. "Yeah, sure. Come around anytime and soak in the atmosphere, Jed. We're all friends here.." There's a way she says that word - giving the impression of a crocodile licking chops. Ophelia's hands suddenly swipe behind her as she turns; Claws grow, shattering the window outwards, letting the wind sing through. She lifts her clawed hands, the Six Stringed Sorrow bubbling to life as she hits a quick up-neck solo - electricity arcing along her arms from the strings, grounding against the metal frames. Lights flare to life along the buildings, swinging back and forth in the sky. "Summon - the HATREDCOPTER!" She calls to the cheering Undead below. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The HatredCopter's flight path is smooth enough - even if the giant, spikey chopper spends too much time chasing small birds to ravage with the fat, swinging scythe blades while it 'whumpa-whumps' through the air, manical skeleton up front in the jumpsuit cackling with each gorey demise. Below, the landscape changes - trees fade to be replaced by steel, jutting exhaust pipes. Massive highways built for giants cross the landscape, most of the asphalt long ago collapsed. Engine heads poke up like monuments, and - for a moment - looking out of the Hatredcopter's windows will show Bladehenge. It's like stone henge, but made with giant broadswords. Eventually the Eastern continent is reached, passing over the cliffs that divide it from the rest of the Brutal Lands. Savage trees poke up, quickly fading to mist-strewn and haunted vistas as the Sea of Black Tears is approached. The Hatredcopter's whumping blades stirring up a flock of Sickle Wraiths - think 'Dementors with blade arms' - that briefly give chase. Over swarms of Tear Drinkers caught in their perpetual celebration of entropy, and finally to the relative quiet of the cavern itself. The giant, sorrowful skull carved into the front should give hint as to what lays within. The Sea of Black Tears is not as big as one would expect; As Mangus said, it'd be more appropriately named the 'lake of black tears'. But he was looking at the horizontal distance; Sorrow goes far deeper than it does wide, endless depths. Huge ribs form the roof far above, as if rock formed around some ancient dead being. Masses of wake candles dot every pillar, inevitably leading to an almost cathedral like dias jutting out from the shore and into the still dark waters. It is towards the shore itself that Sanary is carried by the twisted woman, if she cannot walk. A slow and steady progression, with only the Elites invited within Drowned Ophelia's sanctum. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEZPYvgwUZU 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Perhaps the easiest way to tell that Sanary's still out of it is that the ride in Hatredcopter doesn't get her to (outwardly) freak out one bit. Inwardly, she's still panicking mildly, but her breathing is normal, her eye functions without a hitch, and she even manages to take a nap on the ride there!      She also mutters to herself quite a bit. Failures, weakness, wanting to be stronger. It's probably nothing that Drowned Ophelia hadn't already heard from her since the end of that mission, really.      Thankfully, the apprentice healer is still capable of walking on her own, even if she looks like she's still in something of a daze on the way to the shore. She's barely even looking around, though, almost as if she's already resigned herself to drowning or experimentation or... Whatever it is that the Queen of Tears has in store for her. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     The snake witch follows closely behind Ophelia and Sanary, inspecting their surroundings with a calm look on her face even as she carries some cases with her. It had been easy to get some of the personnel at medical to bring the equipment necessary for this... experiment, to but it crudely.     Once they reach the shore, Medusa sets the cases down before opening them, revealing various ampules, syringes, as well as some monitoring equipment by the look of it. And then she begins preparing some syringes of different sizes, drawing some of the different medications up in their correct doses. "So how will this be done exactly, Ophelia?" she asks even as she works, flicking a finger against the syringe to get some air out of it.% 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The eager smirk grows a bit wider as the trio approaches the shores - water slowly pulling up and back, gentle waves laping at the stone. One would be hard pressed to realize that here lies the source of the power that broke the human rebellion, frightened the Gods of Metal and drove Ophelia to her current state. The endless grief of a millenia or more, back from the death of Ormogodden. The Queen of Tears settles herself by the shore, eyes drifting to Medusa as she readies the varies implements needed for their experiment. Frankly, it doesn't matter -why- she's going to get to drown someone. Only -that- she gets too. She pats the stone next to her, that mock friendliness a still masque upon her features. She speaks again, for both Sanary and Medusa. "It's the easiest thing in the world; Drink. Drink deep." Clawed fingers trail through the water, beneath which lays a strange, churning darkness. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     "I know that you're no scientist, dear," Medusa comments, "But perhaps you could be a dear and provide me with a bit more information on how the process works if you want me to keep her alive. Otherwise it would only be sloppy guesswork, and I assume that's not what either of you want."     Her hand gestures to her medications. "And I would need to know just what bodily processes that I will have to deal with." Sure, Medusa might be a witch, but she's got a scientific approach to the whole deal. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Upon reaching the water, Sanary looks over at Medusa and Drowned Ophelia slowly as they speak. She does seem a little more excited than she has recently, at least, although whether it's because of the possibility of getting stronger or just having something to validate her existence... That's harder to say.      "Doesn't sound too hard. Mm... Alright, might as well get this over with." She lets out another heavy sigh before stepping into the water, peering at it for a while before kneeling into it.      "Looks... Appetizing." Apparently, feeling like a useless waste of space hasn't completely dulled her sense of sarcasm. She scoops some of that darkned mess up into her cupped hands and sniffs it briefly, then finally stops putting off the inevitable and drinks it.      Surely this couldn't go wrong. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' Drowned Ophelia looks up as Sanary passes by, and quietly stands to follow her. She glances into the water - and snarls at the reflection of what she sees. But Medusa's question snaps her out of her reverie, and she lifts a hand behind Sanary as she finally drinks - bitter, but strangely refreshing? And then the burning starts in the throat; Tight and hot, like a sob that never breaks. "Ah. The process?" Begins the Queen of Tears - before her claws neatly wrap around the back of Sanary's head. And she -pushes-, forward and down. Stronger than she looks. Strangely calm as she speaks. "She'll panic at first; I did." Sanary can see it now, beneath the waves. Tendrils reaching up from the dark mass, reaching for her face. "Her lungs will burn as she holds her breath. She'll feel her heart pounding, pounding, pounding.. it gets so loud, when you've nothing else to hear. And there's this moment.." The other hand lifts a finger as she pushes a bit harder, smiling softly. ".. This moment when you think this isn't real. When this is just a dream, when the black starts creeping in on your vision. Surely if you open your mouth, you'll get that last cool breath. Surely. Surely... " A soft chuckle, finger tapping against Sanary's neck. "It's so easy to just give in, when the realization strikes. You're not coming back up. You're never getting better from this. Just give in and let the black waters pour in; Oh, how easy it is to float away, without the air tugging your lungs up, up, up, like a chain on your heart. It's so very... peaceful. After the hurt is over." 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' It takes Sanary a moment to notice that burning pain, and it's just long enough for her to have dunked her hand in for another scoop before she finds herself shoved right into the drink. As predicted, she starts flailing as her lungs find themselves filling with that weird black substance.      That flailing only gets worse when the tendrils appear, but the damage is already done. She's losing her strength as the black water fills her lungs, her movements slowing as the lack of oxygen starts to take effect. The slowing is relative, of course, since it takes quite a while for her movements to even start slow down.      Then again, isn't this what Sanary was hoping for? It's not as if she came here to have a relaxing swim or a nice soak. No... She agreed to do this. The only thing left to do is to see it through to the end. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     Ah, if only Sanary could have waited with drinking until /after/ the explanation had been given? "It would have been easier with time to prepare everything first," Medusa sighs, obviously not too concerned about the time limit she's just been given. However, she does appear to be a tad annoyed.     Nonetheless she works quickly with skilled fingers and an experienced mind. And once she's prepared a few syringes, the witch follows them into the water, trudging through until she comes up next to Sanary. At the same moment one of her snake familiars slithers out from the sleeve of her coat, and it seeks to coil itself around Sanary's arm, keeping it in place as Medusa peers down at it. There, a vein. With no hesitation the witch quickly jabs the needle of one of the syringes into the vein, injecting it quickly. Giving Sanary a subcutaneous injection at this time won't work well enough, this particular agent to force her heart to keep on beating no matter what needs to work quickly!     Though the second injection is given to the back of Sanary's arm, an intramuscular injection to work a bit longer, though it's effects won't show itself for a few minutes... The brain can survive for eight minutes at most without oxygen in such a situation.     Perhaps Sanary will notice it even as she feels her body being starved for oxygen. Her heart is starting to beat faster, and then there's a numbing sensation. Maybe this effect will calm her down some, but it might also increase the fear.     Even as she stands there, one hand on Sanary's arm, Medusa discards the used syringes into one pocket before she finds another one, its contents deep red. "The next time you wish for my help in medical matters, then I want a /detailed/ report on exactly what you're going to do, is that understood?" she asides to Ophelia, and her eyes change slowly, round pupils becoming snakelike. "I can't imagine Lute would be too pleased about this, he cares for Sanary, you know." While Ophelia might have a flair for the dramatic, it appears that Medusa prefers to state facts when she's working. Dramatic speech can be saved for later when there's time for it. 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears watches the struggles weaken with something approaching satisfaction; Oh it felt good to watch the bubbles stop. She'd almost forgotten Medusa was there, until the witch is sloshing into the black waters as well to inject the life saving medications. A brief flash of annoyance - but Ophelia did ask for her to be here. If nothing else so that Sanary would agree to it. At last her claws unravel from the back of Sanary's head, leaving her to float or stand as she wills. Turning her attention fully upon the serpentine witch, teeth briefly bared - before she catches her self. Pauses. And smiles. An empty smile. "And ruin the surprise? I warned you my methods weren't suited for keeping people.. alive. She's drunk the Black Tears; Half-drowned, at least. The federation's going to be quite pleased with what she can become, without holding herself back as she did. As for Lute.." A tap of claws against an upper lip. ".. If it hurts too much, I can help him too. The Sea of Black Tears is always open to the willing." The creature sparing one last glance for Sanary - and then turning to move deeper into the dark waters. Laying back on her back and just -floating-, soft laughter on her lips. "The Hatredcopter can take you home; It'll know the way." 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' Sanary's pretty lucky she has Medusa watching her back here. The life-saving injections are all that's keeping her from drowning outright even as Ophelia holds her down, her lungs finally filling completely without that unnatural water. Even when the Queen of Tears releases her, the younger healer doesn't get up right away as the black water works its magic.      Very drowny magic. It's not as if she didn't ask for this. All those failures finally piling up, all her weakness making it her unable to even kill a child offered to her on a silver platter... She deserved this. It couldn't possibly get any worse.      No, this is about as bad as it could get. All that's left is to drag everything else down with her.      As Sanary finally pulls herself out of the water with hacking coughs, the changes are already becoming apparent. It might just be darkness surrounding the water, but her hair appears to have turned lighter along with her skin. Her eye hasn't changed colors, but the skin around the one hidden behind her eyepatch looks strangely cracked like a window that's been hit with a rock, but not quite broken.      She also vomits a bit. That was a lot of water that went into her, after all! She doesn't say anything, however, as she starts hobbling out of the water, giving Medusa only a blank stare in passing. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     "Oh, I /like/ surprises. I just prefer when they don't interfere with my work," Medusa says. "And yes, I'm quite aware that your methods aren't meant to keep people alive. Mine are however, and if you want my help, then /I/ get to decide the order of things. That way we will have time for your pretty little speeches, metaphors of drowning and black water~" If Ophelia wants to be annoyed at Medusa having demands for these types of situations, then so be it. Indeed, it will be curious to see what Sanary will become, but there are other things to consider as well.     The mention of Lute does make the witch look down at Sanary, watching her as she's in the process of drowning. "I doubt this is the road that Lute will take, nor is it the best way for him to reach his potential. "I will be taking Sanary into Ward 17 for observation, but thank you for your kind offer~" Medusa says, then turns her focus back to Sanary when the woman pulls herself out of the water and coughs wetly. The vomiting is curious, though Medusa calmly watches. And once Sanary begins walking back to shore, the witch follows. "How do you feel, Sanary?" 

:'''{{#var:975|Drowned Ophelia (975)}} has posed:''' The Queen of Tears straightens up briefly, still wading in the water - or being held aloft in it, as she watches Sanary puke out her guts. The ichor evaporating as it touches ground - not that it mattered. Anyone could see it was enough; She was touched with Sorrow, now, right down to the bone. "I dub thee Sandere." She murmurs, before looking at Medusa. And just... smiling. Before she sinks beneath the waters herself, with a faint, quiet 'bloop'. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' As her steps become a little more steady from finally being able to breathe again, Sanary nearly stumbles as she turns in mid-step towards Medusa. It takes a moment for her to catch herself, but when she does, her expression is oddly... Happy? Chipper, even, like someone who hadn't almost drowned just a minute ago.      "Mmmmme? Never better!" She even sounds cheerful. Too cheerful, and certainly not like she's ever sounded before. The paler-than-usual healer staggers again as she straightens herself back up, nearly toppling right over into the water again before hopping in place to face Medusa and Drowned Ophelia as that latter starts sinking. "My legs feel like shit and I my inside feel like I drank acid, but other than that? E-verything's great~"      At least she's not moping around any more. 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     There's scientific curiosity there as Medusa beholds Sanary, eyes slightly narrowed. When she steps onto dry land she doesn't seem bothered by the fact that her clothes are wet, though she does raise one foot and shake it a bit to get the water out of her shoe, then she repeats the act with her other foot.     "I see. I will examine your insides then, just to get a better idea of what's happened with you." Why yes, Medusa has the nerve to order others around. Then again, Sanary... or Sandere, as Ophelia referred to her as, has been her apprentice, has she not? The medical report will most likely be... interesting. And hopefully Ophelia will do the reports necessary to explain why there will be a medical report about this in the first place. 

:'''{{#var:714|Sanary Rondel (714)}} has posed:''' "My insides? Oh, that sounds fun!" Yep. This is definitely too cheerful for Sanary, although aside from the paler hair and skin? She still looks largely the same, albeit somewhat drenched with leftover bits of swamp gunk stuck to her clothes. She looks around a few times before squatting in place on dry land, peering at Medusa with wide-eyed curiousity.      "So does that mean you're gonna cut me open? Make sure not to cut up too much, because I need that to do my job later!" She lets out a shrill laugh at that, patting the ground next to her before glancing around again. "You got any tools around here? Or do we need to wait 'til we get back to Medical?" 

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''     ... well, they always did say that hypoxia had a bad effect on the brain.     The cheerful attitude from Sanary is not repaid from Medusa, who peers down at the younger woman. "Perhaps... but not here. Unlike what our dearest Ophelia thinks, I prefer to do my job /properly/ with enough time to ensure I won't have to improvise like I just did," Medusa drawls before she continues walking, then gestures for Sanary to follow her. No, Lute will probably /not/ like this. 
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