He should have known his efforts were fruitless - some part of Lyonesse had hoped that his vines were magically fire-resistant, but no, as soon as they made contact with the flaming General-King they burned away. He quit casting rather than waste magic, but it was pointless anyway.
He should have known, really. No amount of exhortations to stay safe would save Fang, not when Bischofite was loose and obviously murderous. Even if he hadn't made it so damn obvious that he cared - in the middle of the battlefield, for every enemy to see - a Knight had no hope against a General-Sovereign. His previous escape had been a fluke. Even if his magic had somehow managed to hold the Youma King, Bischofite would have found a way to kill him - and Fang was present and Order and therefore likely a target.
Selfishly, Lyonesse briefly wished he had died first.
As it was, he had time to turn when Bischofite vanished - to watch as Fang's life ended right in front of him, in a horrifying way.
The only mercy was that it was likely quick.
Someone shouted "NO!", and it took him a moment to recognize his own voice.
'Your fault, your fault,' something said in the back of his mind.
His fault that Fang was here, purified, and not a General of the Negaverse, not still on the side likely to win the war and claim not just Earth, but the universe.
His fault Fang was dead.
His staff fell limply from his grasp, and he did not struggle when Bischofite grabbed his face.
He had promised, not an hour before, to fight until his last breath.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
There was no more rage left in him.
[Mistress Morbid]
Aeeth
Posted: Wed Sep 24, 2014 10:08 pm
Fire. There was so much fire. So much smoke. The scent of blood clung to the air in a fog almost as thick as the smoke. The flames licked everything in their path—trees, buildings. People.
The Negaverse would consider tonight a success, but the fires were making it too difficult to continue a reasonable assault—but then, they'd done enough damage. Their crystals pinged with a message: 'Fall back, tend to your injuries in the Rift. You have made Metallia proud.' For those too busy to check, word of mouth and the sight of their comrades slipping away from the battlefield might have been enough to get the message around.
The Resistance Camp was destroyed. Maybe there were a few things still able to be saved, but this was not a safe haven any longer. This was a battleground. A cemetery.
The fires were too strong and too numerous to put out, and even if they could have been, there wasn't much reason to. Order was going to have to move on.
What was left of them, anyway.
Quote:
The battle should be dying down now, and it should be assumed that the vast majority of participants are retreating! If you have things you or your character needs to finish up, you may do so, but the camp has suffered too much damage and should be evacuated soon! Order and Order-sympathizing characters should check out this follow up RP!
The Space Cauldron
Captain
Offline
Ruriska
Invisible Dabbler
Offline
Posted: Thu Sep 25, 2014 2:34 am
Her path appeared beneath her feet, the illusion of her forest rose and blocked out the rest of her battle. There was just the girl in the hood, looking over her shoulder to make sure her prey was following. Such a good catch, Haumea would enjoy her choice. An Eternal was sure to taste delicious.
It was then horribly unfortunate that her magic was suddenly unravelled when by Nærøyfjord’s call. Aludra stopped in her tracks, spun on her heels to stare at Athene. “Next time then, oh hey kitty.” She blew them a kiss and was off, following the geas. She raced after the caribou and its riders, in mighty jumps that carried her quickly through the burning, tar covered world.
With a delighted laugh, Aludra launched herself towards Nærøyfjord and tried grabbing him leg to pull him off the summon. Even if the battle around them was nearly over, they could still have some fun.
Ivynian
Feel free to knock her right out with a kick to the head or something. xD
[Mistress Morbid]
Songstress Kitsune
Twilight Jaws
Ruriska
the_scowling_cat
Lithiasaur
Shazari
litian
Posted: Thu Sep 25, 2014 3:39 am
General Schörl
"This ends here"
Schörl looked up from from her self-appointed work of making sure that wounded fallen weren't going to have a chance of survival. Her smile split too-wide as she flipped up her cane to more a weaponized grip than one of practical use. "Aye, pet. That it do. "
She hadn't put someone taking note of her out of reckoning, but she didn't take it lightly either. She didn't have Barbary to make up for some of her lack of mobility compared to other Generals on the field. She didn't have a bladed weapon. The footing here was already less helpful with the profusion of tar in the area.
She backed, circling, carefully dividing attention between the knight, his staff, and the tar around her heels. She wasn't going to swing the first blow- her strength was always in defense and her infallible focus before and her crippling had only emphasized the need to remain off rote offensive.
It meant she didn't have time to move, time to split her attention even further when bone spires erupted out of the tar as she was crossing another line of the stuff to keep it between them- the bone shore through her thigh in three places, calve in one, lifting her off feet for the handful of seconds it took her to teleport off them to a clear patch six feet away. Schörl wobbled, dropping to one knee and hovering her hand over the mangled leg. Bischofite. I doubt you were aiming for me. One good turn deserved another, luv. Good show.
She had to look for Falias again, if he was about to follow up her bleeding problem.
Snowball was one of the last ones and he was started to shift uneasily. He was tried and as the last few people were thrown through including Niflhel who had been dragged through by a princess he sat and waited for his ride. When Cru showed back up in the medical tent though the cat's eyes widened. "What are you do--- you know what never mind I'm not sure I want to know."
Niflhel had been standing there and from the sounds of things they had lost he was trying his best not to want to go out there and help but it was too late. He sighed looking towards his summon before dismissing it, the negaverse was starting to leave slowly. That was when Charliko grabbed him. He almost jumped but realized that right it was time to go. "What a mess. . ." He murrmurred.
Twilight Jaws
Posted: Thu Sep 25, 2014 8:37 am
Chariklo heaved a sigh of grief mingled with relief. She'd gotten everyone she could over. Now it was time to take Ida and Niflhel. Giving the cat sitting beside the mirrors a quick caress, she murmured, "Not much longer. Cruithne'll be through for you in a minute or so."
She wasn't entirely sure what the younger Dark Mirror had up her sleeve, but there wasn't time to ask. Hurrying to the entry to the tent, she popped her head outside and reached out to grab Ida and the knight both, dragging them inside.
"It's time to go, guys. We can't stay any longer."
Chariklo out!
---------------------------------
Only when she was sure that there weren't any more people that she could take through the mirrors did Cruithne stop to suck in tarry, smoke laden air, coughing as the fumes stung her throat. She had one more thing to do before she could retreat.
Rushing to the tents, she glanced around for where Hver had hinted she was keeping some surprises and managed a sickly grin when she saw what it was she wanted.
Propane tanks. She could blow what was left of the camp sky high and maybe take some of the Negaverse out along with it.
Seizing a tank in each hand, she heaved and dragged the tanks until she had them inside of the hospital tent near the mirrors. Glancing around, she found Snowball and gently scooped him up, indicating that he should find a way to cling to her shoulders.
"You can let go now," she murmured soothingly. "I don't think we need any cloaking here anymore."
Oh, it hurt to say that, but it was the truth. As far as she'd been able to ascertain, they'd gotten everyone they possibly could through. Except for Hver and Naer. Wincing away from the thought, Cruithne fumbled around the tent until she found a discarded book of matches half buried in the dust and dirt. Seizing a discarded blanket, and hunting out the oil they'd kept on hand for tar removal, she soaked the blanket and tanks, piling them together into what would hopefully be a complete fire hazard.
Then, striking a match, she threw it into the pile, followed it with another lit match and another until the blanket was merrily burning. With luck, it would burn hot and set up the propane tanks.
And then... between her little gift and the tar fires outside... Well.
Turning on her heel, Cruithne carried Snowball through the nearest mirror, away from the place that had once meant safety.
Any evacuees should note that Cruithne is the last one through and she is doing her best to blow up the mirror ferries on her way out. This is being posted now because Work. XD
Of the corrupted senshi before them, Hvergelmir recognized the man with the endless fall of blue hair: Asphodel, she thought. I remember you broke my heart, and I tried to break your face. I failed, last time -- shall we try again?
Her magic was all but spent -- she was running mostly on fumes now, fumes and a few years more of combat training than actual combat. The only thing left that ran on its own magic pool was her aspect -- and while she could try and keep some distance from her enemies if she used her staff, ascended senshi were more dangerous from far away and more vulnerable up close.
Hvergelmir took a step forward, pulling steadily against the spindle till it tore itself free from the thread that connected it to her distaff. It was no use anymore, not for magic.
Accordingly, she turned to throw it at the other ascended's shattered, pink-haired head. Then, dismissing the rest of her distaff, she broke into a run, thumb flickering over her signet ring to fire up her aspected magic, closing the distance toward the senshi of Asphodel -- whatever his name must've been -- to try and grab his face. Maybe she could pry an eye off, tear loose one of the shattered plates that made up his smirking mouth.
You're seeping pure Chaos, she thought, I hope this burns the s**t out of you.
Quote:
ASPECT OF THE COSMOS: The silvery sheen of starlight covers the Knights of the Cosmos, and their touch is just as heavenly. It's warm and pleasant to most, but acidic and painful to corrupted beings. For the followers of Chaos, physical contact with one of these Knights feels like a mild chemical burn: although it does little in the way of damage, it's hard to tolerate it.
Twilight Jaws
throwing a spindle at your head~
Songstress Kitsune
giving you a hug of love~
Ivynian
Ruriska
Posted: Thu Sep 25, 2014 9:50 am
Kerberos had never before experienced the particular agony of the touch of a Cosmos Knight's aspect. He let out a howl of pain - and ripples would reach Haumea, but a sharp command tumbled thorguh his thoughts to the pink-haired Ascended - STAY AWAY only one needs to burn and she will not kill me with touch-fire alone.
Besides, Kerberos had an idea.
"You shouldn't have gotten so close, Transcendent," he snarled, and then he grabbed her face and started to pull, sucking the energy that she just overflowed with out of her and into himself. Ascendents were ever-hungry for it - and a Transcendent, whose energy flowed like water through a broken dam, was exactly the perfect source of it. It soothed the burn of her too-pure, too-shining touch.
"Die, and feed us."
Kerberos rarely spoke aloud in plurals, but right then, he hoped it sank into her and terrified her.
Whether it was luck or the draw of the two who had left that provided the hospital with a much needed respite, the end result was that almost before she knew it, everyone who could go had gone and Ida was left outside the tent with Nilfhel. They kept off what youma came and the few officers not distracted by the shining beacon in the distance. The fight afforded the young princess something of a distraction of what had transpired, from what was still happening. Somewhere across camp, two people she loved were pursuing their deaths... but at least she had gotten to say good bye. It was more than many had gotten.
Smoke blackened the sky and set a haze over everything, turning the once safe haven into a dismal scene of death and fire. She would miss this place where she had found so much good, honest work and carved out some small sliver of happiness from what was left of a world slowly losing its color... but in the end it was just a place. It was not Ida, secluded and pristine and untouchable... it was simply a place full of memories the way Farah's Garden was, destroyed by time like everything else eventually. It was the things she was leaving behind here that would haunt her when battle adrenaline had worn off and the insulating fog cleared to let her feel the full brunt of the pain.
Before she realized it, Chariklo was tugging at her arm and it was time to go, the once bustling med tent empty and ashambles with over turned beds and discarded equipment. It was a stab to the heart to see something she had worked so hard for torn apart so quickly... But there was still one last thing to do.
Tugging her arm out of the Dark Mirror Princess's grip, Ida grabbed up the last flare where it lay over turned by the door. Stepping outside, she lifted the gun over her head with a decisive motion and let it go, the bright green spark streaking up into the sky to explode with a puff and drift slowly back to earth, telling all who could see it that the retreat had been made.
Your duty is done, dear ones. If by some miracle you've survived, please... come back to me. If not... may Ida guard you safely to the Cauldron. You deserve a hero's welcome there...
Dropping the gun at her feet, Ida turned and ran for the mirror.
Ida Exit!
Twilight Jaws
Ivynian
Shazari
LP
Posted: Thu Sep 25, 2014 4:14 pm
Eternal Thraen
Trigger Warning: Gore
He hadn't enough experience with the Mirror Princess' camouflage magic to know the intricacies- that a enemy could be even at the cusp and still be unseen. The magic was just fading as claws appeared in approach and he only had enough time to turn his face and roll with it. There was searing and looseness along his rips and chest as well.
Dirt, sky, dirt, sky, dirt, and everything was hazed and formless blur mixed with red. Alois didn't follow it up. Someone else was there, talking or taunting. Thraen tore at his sashes to get enough cloth to press and free vision, if there was any left.
Talking, dying. He looked up in time to see the carrion bird burning through vines, bodies and brains like so much more ash. Not quite. Brow, cheek and nose are gouting blood, but you didn't manage the eye. You didn't catch and hold this time like last. He's smoking, burning from the inside. The final thorns are strong, but likely not that strong. He'll be like fire to touch.
It took so much to stand again. Sprint again and as the Earth Knight split and gave up his spirit without resistance. To run to try to catch the creature from behind and make a Pez dispenser with combat knife out of him while claws dissected Lyonesse.
Songstress Kitsune
Lyonesse
Aeeth
Ivynian
Cat
Offline
Sylent Nyte Crew
Obsessive Lunatic
Offline
Posted: Thu Sep 25, 2014 4:50 pm
A grin split upon Cyllene's purple-blue tinted lips as a Super Senshi stumbled nearly directly into her. "Oh you poor precious thing," the Eternal Corrupt cooed and stepped towards him. "You should have stayed home tonight."
Her head tilted to the side slightly as she watched him, a finger pointed at him. "Or ran. Like you pathetic White Moon Senshi do best. I'm surprised you haven't ran through one of the mirrors that I'm sure are in this camp. The Dark Mirror has sided with you, have they not?"
Maybe she could put it in the Senshi's head that the DMC was the one that betrayed them and leaked their whereabouts to the Negaverse. As she let the thought settle in his mind, she extended her arms so her palms were facing the red-headed boy and she called out "Cyllene Acid Spray!"
A neon blue liquid sprayed in a blast from the palms of her hand, directed at the Senshi's face.
litian
Cyllene Acid Spray
Super Sailor Scout Attack: Sailor Cyllene calls her attack with her arms extended and her palms are facing her opponent. When she yells "SPRAY!" a blast of acidic liquid sprays at her opponent. The spray burns the skin (and causes some itching) and stings like a mother if gotten in the eyes. She has to be within a few feet (4 feet max) for this attack to be successful.
Posted: Fri Sep 26, 2014 8:22 am
Knight Næryofjord of Earth (Titanlåvenite)
The place of choosing was grim, but welcoming for that. Whetever happened to their bodies in the end, whatever depredations the enemy chose to enact, they'd have made their last sight in land still peopled with friends. He didn't have time to dwell on it- Corrupted, shattered in face like glass were also coming first in answer to the geas. The Ascended. Hvergelmir already in battle was an unsual, fair and terrible sight. She would have done better with the the distaff for smashing. Well, I have my hammer for that. For all these lot.
There was a small corrupted attached on his leg and creepily pleasant about the ordeal of hitching a ride.
We cannot afford mercy to others when there is certainly none for ourselves. None for the whole camp. He swiped his hammer down in a arc along his leg, like a casual play at croquette or golf- but hers was a body, not a ball.
[Mistress Morbid]
Dionysus
Songstress Kitsune
Kerberos
Twilight Jaws
Haumea
Ruriska
Aludra,OH GOD GET IT OFFFFFFF
the_scowling_cat
Jarosite
Lithiasaur
Painite
Shazari
Ivynian
Cat
Offline
Strickenized
Garbage Cat
Offline
Posted: Fri Sep 26, 2014 8:58 am
CW: Gore, Death
Lyonesse's body capitulated rather easily, the rest of his resistance likely driven off by the crumpled form of the one he showed tenderness for. Bischofite began to draw bone finger from body to redirect his efforts toward Thraen when a keening jab struck through his throat like lightning, wholesale severing his esophagus and trachea with little resistance. Bischofite's breath hitched, amounting to little more than burbles as half-boiled blood eked from his body in a sludge-like consistency. So much of him hardly felt it anymore - whether fully burnt away by fire or simply so overloaded with pain that more injury never found a chance to register.
Bone skewers drew back from Lyonesse's corpse to lash backwards, splayed out from his back in a last desperate attempt to damage his assailant. Finally his melted muscles gave way, the creature staggering backward before collapsing half-immersed in his own tar pool, with his attacker or without. It wouldn't matter - not for much longer.
He pressed both hands to throat, tried to piece it back together with tar that never left his fingers, tried to speak with words that never stuttered out. He offered one last attempt to suck in a great breath, back arching slightly as if to shy away from further flame, yet he offered nothing more than a shuddering spurt of clots and gelatinous blood. No words left him - no more than ash to the night sky stood as Bischofite's offerings now, aglitter with the burning hate that so tainted their battlefield. Unable to see any longer, he could not watch the stars wink out to leave the night sky wholly deadened and black.
I never thought I would regret so much when I died. A weak hand spidered out to feel for the face of his assailant.
All the tawdry books and tales tell of peace in departure, in resolution or just mental capitulation while the body died. Yet so much stands before me, unresolved... I never killed the remainder of senshi, never found Quenton, never amounted to much more than a untrustworthy general with a little more power than the rest. No, this is much closer to the literature I used to read long ago - when I knew bone wings as preposterous and magical wars as fantasy. He clawed for the knife.
I'll never know who Quincy was. I won't even know a glimpse of his face in these last moments, but so much of me is already gone that I struggle to even think... Slowly the fingers coiled to his neck, muscles shriveled and wan from the overwhelming heat.
I never learned to suffer well.
We'll meet again in the next life, wherever you are. Maybe we'll learn to be happier then.
The great bone wings sported by the creature collapsed into ash, and a dust of it fell away from his face to account for the mask he once wore. Bone fingers gave way as husks to natural digits untouched by flame for the seconds that they appeared. The tattered uniform worn and feared for many years wholly dissipated, its half-melted form leaving the body behind while a black zippered jacket studded with eyelets and straps claimed its place.
The only indications of inhumanity were the thick swirls of ash, playfully scattered about by flames.
Ivynian
Posted: Fri Sep 26, 2014 9:24 am
Eternal Thraen
Trigger Warning: Gore
He'd expected some flailing, lashing, stumbling and trying to keep footing and hold of the creature- an eternal against a General King having little luck with nothing but tar to purchase stone boots into. It was hard to see all over again- the skin too mangled to not bleed too heavily to see without consistent pressure.
I don't need to see. Not anymore. Thraen pushed his lips close to the near ear, "You brought me Faust when first you visited my home, Alois. You could have at least brought me Sandalwood oil this time. I could have shaved for you."
The tar pool scorched. The flames burned. When the struggles stopped and ash brushed up towards the sky on the carrying arms of heat, Thraen finally let his knife sink away in the mire and his grip change from aggression to just as desperate pulling. Inch by inch, he pulled them both out of the tar. Alois' hair had to prove pressure and wipe enough to gain a few seconds of sight to mark where he'd first been rolling- where Faust lay still and fallen from his shoulders.
There was a flare in the sky.
His ribs and chest shifted with the pulling, some popping noises telling of through and though bones or cartilage. There was no med tent to go to now. No tents at all. Thraen drew Faust up with a tar and blood-blacked hand to shoulder again. He kept dragging for the trees beyond the perimeter. Auras were lessening, vanishing. The enemy was leaving. The evacuation made it. The Guard is decimated. Did we take many with us? A General King rests, at least. I'll keep you, Alois. No bed or pillow for us three. A tree will have to do to rest against, but you both can rest against me. Watch the dawn come new and thirsty. If I'm lucky, I'll bleed out before then. If all this tar doesn't cauterize or get in the way. It will be a slow, delirious couple of days if it does.
[ Thraen EXIT (with Faust and Bischofite....kinda. It's an exit. ) ]
It was the Ascendeds' skin that made them fragile: they were delicate and inhuman, and just holding their bodies together, containing the great black leak, consumed a great deal of Chaos energy. Hvergelmir wondered how well Kerberos planned to hold together his face once she crushed it into pieces, into dust. Could he still smile then, once she'd ripped his mouth open like hers?
Her fingers found hairline cracks, nails that glittered with aspected starlight digging in to tear loose large pieces: a cheek, a section of his neck. Each plate of false-skin she pulled loose, she crunched between her fingers down to so many little fragments and motes of dust.
She could feel her strength ebbing as he drew it out from her, his hand clutched to her face as her hand ripped apart pieces of his.
He was winning. She knew that much. But how could you kill an Ascended?
Better not to try. Better to think, instead, how to clip its wings.
Yes the world is the best place of all, she thought to herself, trying to hang onto her resolve as she felt her mind waver, for a lot of such things as making the fun scene --
Half an ear crunched in her fingers.
And making the love scene --
A piece of shoulder. Crunch.
And making the sad scene --
Crunch, crunch. She stumbled, felt her knees start to give.
And singing low songs and having inspirations and walking around --
Hvergelmir sank forward against Kerberos, wrapping a bare arm around the skin of his back, still sizzling with aspected magic, hanging on with fingers hooked around his shoulder to keep herself to her feet.
-- looking at everything --
With her other hand, she reached up, climbing his fragmented skin finger by finger. Her hand was trembling; the strength was all going out.
-- and smelling flowers, she focused on, digging in with all her remaining energy to pry loose a wet, white eyeball, and goosing statues --
It was slippery in her hands. It felt solid, like it weighed a million pounds, and she could feel her strength slipping as she tried to crush it between her fingers; she couldn't manage it --
and even thinking --
-- so she brought the wet little thing up to her mouth instead, because human jaws were so much stronger, and she slipped it with trembling care between her teeth --
-- and kissing people and --
The first solid food she'd eaten in years. It broke between her teeth with a sick, gelatinous squish.
-- making babies and wearing pants and waving hats and dancing --
Vitreous humor leaked out of her mouth and down her cheeks, clear flecked with black. She made a vague fumble for the second eye, but her hand wouldn't rise that high. She let it drop to Kerberos's shoulder too. The last of her aspected magic fizzled out. Her head felt fuzzy.
-- and going swimming in rivers on picnics in the middle of the summer --
Hvergelmir bent to press her head into the ascended senshi's shoulder. Her nailed tracked idly, mostly harmlessly, against his skin. Tears tracked her face, mixing with the bits of eye oozing down her chin. She didn't want to die. She wondered if it had been sixty seconds yet.
-- and just generally 'living it up' --
Næryofjord's aura was still there, warm and alive. Good. Don't let them run you out early. Give them a good fight -- you always do. It was the last thing she felt before her glamour started crumbling away -- the warm glow of his presence nearby. Then the torn-off remains of her dress dissolved, leaving only a young woman tucked into Kerberos's arms, jeans worn thready and sweatshirt too big around skinny wrists.
She sighed.
Yes --
For an instant she could hear her heartbeat, fast like a hummingbird's flutter --
but then right in the middle of it --
and the dizzy haze of sleep --
comes the smiling --
The pale-haired girl went soft and lifeless in Kerberos's arms.
