Arsenolite (2, @ cliff) & Thorite (6+2 from weapon [8], @ The Youma)
A hp: 27/50 T hp: 39/50
Shanyume rolled 1 8-sided dice:
1Total: 1 (1-8)
Posted: Thu Aug 19, 2021 4:52 pm
Captain Lavendulan HP: 75 Dice: 1d8+3(tracking team) +5(half youma captain) Damage to the cliff side: 12 (round 1) + 12 (round 2) Damage to Radon/Whim: 15 (round 3)+9 (round 4)
"I don't ******** know anymore." Lavendulan rarely swore, but when she did that's when you knew she was pissed. "There were only supposed to be three of us attacking the cliff the next thing I know more Generals are joining us then some corrupt pulled out their own starseed." If her tone didn't make it obvious, she was more than a little annoyed.
Her arm swung wide as she aimed another attack with her water whip at Whim's leg.
The bright robed, horned, Senshi's screech had him recoiling, flinching away. Vines curled in onto itself that were arms and a tangle of winding limbs. The sound hurt as much as everything around him hurt, and it all just hurt. Endless cacophony of such, and the noise he let out was pitiful even to his own non-existent ears - were they petals now?
Slithered back from her, thorns tangled at her robes and he bumped into a wretched blast of cold. Hated cold - as a plant - as a person - as a being that existed and writhed in place.
Lashed out at something blue as he was trampled past by yet more youma. Hissed purple bile at the new thing in his vision. Blue robes, cold aura. Wondered that they were all still there in the mix. That the lot of them hadn't fled. Abandoned the rest. Would've been smart - as a plant he could survive - as a rift plant he could survive. Not if they kept trampling on him though. The agents, the youma, the hell of it all. Maybe if he chased them off? He could live his best wretched remaining moments of plant-dom in peace.
Shanyume
All the Senshi horror and friends.
Sleet Tempest Snape
Sup frost boy! Lets be plant friends! Everyone is plant friends~
There were too many youma, swarming from all sides, knocking into Aquamarine while he tried to keep things clear for Jet. The fact that Aquamarine was one of said youma was so far from ideal he could scream.
He would like to say he was never going to go into the ******** Rift again, but… youma. He didn’t have much choice now, did he? Jet could be as reassuring as he wanted; nothing was going to change Aquamarine’s s**t luck. He was a youma, and he was ugly, and he was going to get Jet out of here if it was the last thing he did. As for what happened after that? Well, he couldn’t exactly blame Jet for moving on without him, could he? Because he was ******** hidious.
“... Jet...”
If he could stop freaking out about this for two seconds, maybe he’d be able to say more than Jet’s name. He could still think; he wasn’t a mindless monster. He could still speak, too. He should try other words, maybe something snide about Faustite, who seemed to be faring better than a panicking Aquamarine. Monstrous in his own way, ******** youma.
“Leave,” Aquamarine agreed. “Now. Go now. Get out.” And then, because he was Aquamarine and he couldn’t keep his bitchinness to himself, “And the next time Axinite wants something done in the ******** Rift, tell him to get his giant ******** snake and do it himself.”
Youma Cymophane HP: 16/50 Damage: 3 (roll) Attacking but not descriminating against youma at this point. If it hits a random one, good. If it hits Whim, good.
“Hey, wait!”
Cymophane knewReidite was going to freak out, but he didn’t consider that Reidite would hoist him over his shoulder. How embarrassing! (Not really, but ugh, did he have to be so overprotective?)
“Don’t just run off with me! Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there’s not really any place for us to go!” he said, pounding a paw against Reidite’s back. “Don’t take me away from Kamacite! He’s strong enough to protect both of us!”
Kamacite was just… having a moment. Which was fine. It was all fine. Everything was going to be fine. Cymophane had to believe that, because the alternative was unacceptable. He wasn’t prepared to die here. So what if he was a youma? It sucked, but he’d learn to live with it somehow. He learned to live with everything else!
They were struck here and there, tossed about haphazardly. Nothing came for Cymophane directly, but it was hard not to get hit with the sheer volume of youma crowding the paths.
Cymophane wondered if he could still use his magic like this. He should have one shot left at it. Mustering up the energy, Cymophane hung from Reidite’s shoulder and directed it at whichever youma happened to get in the way. If it reached Whim instead, that worked too.
“Leopard’s strike!”
Guine
Quote:
Sailor Scout Attack:Leopard’s Strike Three long, black claws of energy grow between Cymophane’s fingers. Though he does not have to make contact with an enemy to cause damage, a swipe directed at them will result in torn clothing and the sensation of lacerations to skin. The sensation of pain will last for 30 seconds and has a range of 8 feet. At player discretion, the character can take lasting damage such as mild injuries that are deep enough to scar if desired, but not so much as to be immediately life threatening. The magic can be used three times.
Posted: Thu Aug 19, 2021 5:38 pm
General Jet HP: 78/100 New orders - they got what they came for!
The youma kept coming, and without a target they attacked whoever they could. He kept his weapon out for defense. It seemed as though Arles had slunk into the shadows -- not that Jet could blame him. He still felt the bond between them, so he wasn’t gone, just lurking. Hopefully trying to figure out a way to get them all out.
If he wasn’t already over the shock of seeing Aquamarine being turned into a youma, he might have been unnerved by the fire creature that was very obviously Faustite.
“Would have been better if we retreated last night,” Jet hissed. He was angry. His jaw set tight as his eyes darted from the giant youma they were collecting scales from, to the hoards of youma still swarming and attacking, to the Senshi and Agents who had joined them on this suicide mission.
“Should have ******** known after yesterday that someone else would try to get everyone killed. ********--” he spat, pulling out his communicator again, now that Faustite, who had convinced them to go along on this mission in the first place, made the call to retreat. If they’d left the night before when Jet wanted to call the mission, they might have stood a better chance at survival.
Maybe Aquamarine would still be human.
Jet looked at him, feeling just a tiny bit of relief that he could communicate more than just saying his name. He would be sure to tell Axinite.
If only Faustite had a communicator that actually worked. And if he wasn’t a fireball of a youma.
“This is General Jet. Everyone--” he paused and frowned for a moment, and then continued, “If anyone else was stupid enough to bring a starseed into the Rift. Now would be a great time to pull it out and drop it down between the paths. It might draw some attention.”
He never thought he would be hoping more people didn’t read the explicit instructions to not bring a starseed into the Rift. Or worse. Chose to ignore it.
“We’ve collected the scales we came for. Now we focus on survival. All officers group together. Senshi in center, agents outside, all youmafied agents… try and keep the rest of the youma back.”
Quote:
NEW PLANS TO TRY AND SURVIVE AND ESCAPE
Guine
Crew
Lonely Explorer
Offline
Guine rolled 1 10-sided dice:
10Total: 10 (1-10)
Guine
Crew
Lonely Explorer
Offline
Posted: Thu Aug 19, 2021 6:16 pm
Corrupt Eternal Kamacite HP: 78/100 Damage: 10 x 10 = 100 Defending himself from the youma around him.
Cymophane had moved away to attack the youma, only to be scooped up by Reidite and taken away. Kamacite stared for a moment, trying to see around the youma that stampeded around him, although leaving his tiny corner relatively uncrushed for the moment. He buried his face against his arms as he huddled helplessly on the ground. He’d already lost his team -- his friends -- once. If they were going to be youma now…
And then he heard what had to have been Faustite’s voice, and felt the warmth around him. Tears fell as he looked up at the fire that surrounded him, and the instructions to get up and go.
And then Faustite left him. And more tears fell.
But why bother getting up? Why bother trying to escape? What was the point of getting back to Negaspace now? Hadn’t they failed in their mission again? There was no real way to escape, and they’d seen the crater that had been created when the youma that injured his arm had fallen from the pathways. Even if they did manage to get a chance to climb back down, there was no way his arm could support his weight. And he doubted that any youma would be willing to help them now.
Even if he wanted to move, he was frozen in place. Fear was beginning to paralyze him. His fight or flight response had always been stuck on freeze and in the Rift was no different.
He could feel it.
The youma were changing targets.
The starseed must have disappeared, so the youma went after anything else that was full of energy and starseed.
Kamacite gasped suddenly as a smaller youma clawed almost curiously at his bright robes, as if testing how dangerous it was for it to try and attack. It must have realized Kamacite’s hiding place, whether by luck or the feel of his aura. And it wasn’t the only one. The other youma were turning to find new prey as well.
The youma got more aggressive with clawing at his robes, and Kamacite struggled to pull himself away, jerking his injured arm out of the sleeve to let the youma have the damn thing. Underneath his robes Kamacite had no sleeves adorning his navy blue robes, and his thin arms were already marred with scars from previous fights in various stages of healing and fading. The newest addition was still wrapped up.
His heart was beating a mile a minute, and even though the horrible sounds of youma screeching and howling and stomping and clawing and growling and biting and ripping -- it was all he could hear, pounding in his ears.
The smaller youma jerked the robe violently, like a terrier with a rat, and another took the opportunity to lunge forward at Kamacite with his starseed on display --
“Shock breakout!” he cried out in his panic, both hands held out in front of him as if that would keep the youma from tearing into him. Light flooded the area, but he had no idea what good it could have done, or if he was just delaying the inevitable.
Quote:
Eternal Sailor Attack: Shock Breakout There is a brilliant flash of light causing temporary but immediate disorientation and blindness that fades into horribly spotty vision; can last upwards of forty-five seconds. In addition to the previous issues with electrical and battery charged devices, the heat of the flash causes the sensation of moderate to severe burns, as well as the sensation of clothing and armor being heated to uncomfortable levels. There is also biochemical damage caused by the electromagnetic surge in the form of nausea, dizziness, headaches, and/or a decreased level of consciousness depending on the opponent. The potential for actual sunburns or lasting physical or biochemical damage is up to player discretion and, if desired, may require extended time to heal. Has an effect radius of 12 feet (although the flash can be seen as one would see any flash), and can be used once, twice as a last resort.
Anyone around would probably see the flash, if interaction is wanted.
Sunshine Alouette
Strickenized
Posted: Thu Aug 19, 2021 7:06 pm
General Benitoite HP: 78/100 Damage:
A lot was happening all around them, officers turning into youma, scales landing on the ground, with people picking them up. So much was going on and turning to Roselite the ashen blond managed a bit of a smile. "A lot going on....seems about right for a battle like this." Any sort of battle really, it was always a lot to take in. Normally he was better at keeping up but this time, this one time, he couldn't quite keep up. He felt like he was behind on what was going on and being tossed into things. It was a bit jarring but he was managing as best he could.
"Ok, sounds good...but we need to try not come out of this too badly injured." If he returned home, to Mason, injured the other blond might not be too pleased about it. At least Mason understood things, knew there would be those times, unlike Aiden. At least he could explain, honestly, what was going on and what had happened and Mason would understand...even if he might not be pleased or happy with things. The idea of being able to go home, injured, to a loved one and explain things openly was a relief. Sadly he didn't get to think too much on it right now, not with s**t hitting the fan, but he would think about it later and likely even express his relief to Mason in some manner.
Watching what was going on he nodded his head. "Ok, so just the ones that look nice." Those would be easy enough to get...the youma was being attacked and releasing scales in order to deffend itself. He even saw the Lieutenant with him pick one up. Seeing a similar scale on the ground he did the same thing - picked it up. "I think, Roselite, that we should make an escape. I think we're done here and the youma are going to overwhelm us soon." And he didn't need some spider youma turning up - he did not need a panic attack again!
It was Chaos. And that was meant in every. Single. Possible. Way.
40-odd Negaverse agents, some of whom had become so infected by the energies here that they themselves were spontaneously youmafying (which was TERRIFYING and Shahar didn't want to think about it) and Snek-Bird was hissing at Titanite, and-
Well. She wasn't going to have that! "Watch who you choose to hiss at, creature!" she went to hiss back at the youma, but as she opened her mouth, Titanite found herself incredibly distracted by the fact that her nose seemed... larger. In fact... it seemed almost... beaklike.
Her head jerked back, instinct telling her that there was something there that she needed to avoid, but it came with her. And the long, long- very long- hair that swirled past her as she leapt backwards was... feathery. Teal, a familiar color, but darker, and the undersides of the feathers, a glistening reddish-brown. The sound that came out of the former General was a scream, a shriek, yet the hands that lifted to her face were mostly human, but for where clawed, scaled fingertips seemed to have burst their way forth from the ends of her gloves.
"No." she croaked it, staring around at how she had joined the others who had been cursed to this- cursed to- "NO." Panic tinted every facet of the head that was no longer human, and the feathers that seemed to have spilled from her head and trailed down her spine raised, puffing themselves like a bird trying to make itself larger. "لا ، لا ، لا ، لا ، لا يمكن أن يحدث هذا." No, no, no, no, this cannot happen.
How long would it be before she herself was drawn to her negaverse allies like they were candy? Would she retain herself, but be trapped in this body? What was the way to fix this? She could not- she would not- live like this.
In panic, in fear and fury, she slashed out at the creature (RADON) that would take the blame for having done this to her. Since Axinite was not here to take a fist to his nose.
We’ve collected the scales we came for. Now we focus on survival. All officers group together. Senshi in center, agents outside, all youmafied agents… try and keep the rest of the youma back.
Yes. Yes, they needed to get out of here. If they fled, if they ran, if they clung together and escaped, maybe someone could fix this.
And if the Negaverse could not, Titanite would find someone who could.
She shoved her body backwards, away from the large youma she had been fighting and in towards the rest of the Agents, obeying Jet's order and shifting her attention to ejecting youma from where the corrupted senshi were, to help form a protective circle for them; he was, after all, the one in charge.
So much of her, still human; with the head of a monster. How much more would she change before this ended?
Amazonite hissed in pain, as the scale embedded in her flesh.
It hurt. Of course it hurt.
But the most interesting part was the way she began to transform.
It was as if the dragon she had begun to become when she consumed a mass of starseeds was taking her over. Scales growing up her body, claws lengthening, muzzle becoming longer--she roared her delight, sinkling claws into the beast. No, the scales they pulled off wouldn't have thier luster, but she was sure that having another youma on its back, clawing with vigor, might make the thing feel it needed to defend itself.
This was it. This was power.
But Jet's order made her hesitate.
Retreat, yes. Cover the others, yes. Important.
She leapt off the beast's back with a final snarl, and turned to move in close. She would hold the line. They would escape.
This was getting worse with every moment. She could feel herself being attacked from all sides. Youma appeared to be fighting anything and everything. Agents didn't know what and who was where, and their main target was throwing out scales like candy and dusting other Youma in the process.
If this wasn't the definition of chaos, she didn't know what was!
And still in all of it she only had the scale, which she used as an attack against something that was near her. She couldn't tell what was what anymore, she could only do as much as she could to defend herself.
The youma slowing down appeared to be, on its face, a good thing. But Ransomite realised as the scales came crashing down again that it wasn’t—not really.
The searing pain as the scale sliced through his shirt stopped him short, caused him to look down reflexively at his torso and see—
Ah—
The scale was embedded in his side, between two of the ribs low on the right. He stared at it with dull disbelief, the realization and actualization of the scale where it was causing him a delay in realizing what else was happening.
Cold began to spread through his body, but starting in his chest rather than from where the scale rested. But when it got to the scale, flowers burst forth from the scale and bloomed from his arms.
Snapdragons, he recalled, distantly remembering something Diryas had explained to him. White poppy flowers. Geraniums.
The flowers bloomed along his arms, from his fingers, rendering him unable to pick anything up or hold anything without cradling it awkwardly against his body. They bloomed from under his collar, the poppies spreading up the back of his neck and pushing his hair out of the way.
It itched. It burned where the petals brushed unaffected arts of his skin.
As the realization began to dawn on him, he shouted at the youma—his voice coming out as little more than a gasp as he felt flowers at his throat—and tried to lash out.
HP: 75 Damage: 1d8 Magic: * * * Spring Water Eruption! (3/3) * * * Raging Spring Water! (1/2)
HP: 53/75 DMG: n/a, listening to the retreat order
Carnallite's answer to if they needed help over there seemed to be a resounding no, perhaps followed by a get out of here and focus on the youma, and perhaps that was fair considering the status of their entire surroundings. Sylvite's order seemed to agree. He didn't know what was happening other than there were a lot of youma, there seemed to be an increasing amount of more youma, and Fulgurite wasn't convinced they were just streaming in from elsewhere.
Considering what the interrogation team had apparently found yesterday--
Fulgurite followed the three he had just joined back into the fray and immediately started to scrape around for scales -- before getting distracted by a new order from Jet that seemed to be commanding a retreat as they had already gotten what they needed.
Well, they didn't need to tell him twice.
He wasn't sure what was making the damn youma sluggish, but he wasn't sure he cared. If it stopped him from pursuing Fulgurite as he retreated back to hopefully find himself in a retreat formation, good.
He desperately wanted madras curry.
Also, maybe to reevaluate his entire life and also, maybe, if the Mauvians had some way to force anyone with not-in-their-chest starseeds out at the entrance.
HP: 44/75 DMG: 3 x 10 = 30, hopefully at Whim but who knows at this point
This was -- this was not getting any better. It even seemed that the youma that were showing signs of allying with them were beginning to turn against them, perhaps their hunger unfulfilled from the unobtainable starseed. This whole situation left a considerable amount to be desired, and as she looked down at the pile of scales she had in her bag, she wondered if these scales were really worth this much trouble for all of them and for Axinite. Did Axinite know this mission would lead to this? Did he care?
Had he been hoping for it?
The conspiracy theories were useless, and Jet's voice broke through them as she heard a noise nearby that drew a considerable amount of alarm.
Youmaified agents.
Ah.
Ransomite wasn't her underling, but she couldn't help the sensation in her heart that she had somehow failed him, considering she had been watching over him -- and Albite, and Thorite -- the prior night. She didn't have the time to focus on that. She looked at him with concern despite as she answered Jet's call with a, "General, I was going to tell my general, but I'll tell you directly; I got more scales to add to that pile!"
A retreat was ordered, but she also felt bad leaving the youmaified agents near her to themselves. Perhaps there was no winning. Perhaps she'd wring her hands dry.
Perhaps in a pitiful attempt to defend them, she shouted a, "Arc Burn!" and pointed in the direction of Whim. Maybe. There were a lot of youma around now.
"Ransomite!" Could he even understand her? "Let's go!"
Where were the other two she had been watching? Where was Albite? Was that why she couldn't find Faustite? Were they youma too?
Nagya had been doing his best to keep up with the battle, but there were so many people and so many monsters, it was a challenge. All he could do was punch and kick, and that wasn't much against a great beast of indeterminate power.
It seemed as if there was something happening--some sort of magic going on--and there were new orders. Attack the beast. MAke it retaliate. Nagya spun on his heel to do just that--
And he was struck in the shoulder by a scale.
"Oh," he said, quietly, and he tried not to let the surprise be too evident on his face. It hurt, yes, but that wasn't what mattered--what mattered was that he could feel himself changing. Shifting. His lower half became serpentine, whipping behind him, and his fangs extended and, quite without his will, his hood flared. Scales crawled up his body, and very rapidly, he became a hissing serpent.
Fear seized him. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, ever since he first combined with his General's youma in Hyderabad. That there was a step further, and that he was inches from going over that cliff at all times.
He was a monster, now. A beast. There would be nowhere else for him to go. Would anyone even know to tell Felicity? Did anyone here have any idea who he was, or how to notify someone that he'd been transformed?
Nagya coiled up, groaning in pain and frustration. What was he supposed to do?
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