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Sailor Remus, Senshi of Regolith


He sincerely hoped that Duhr was managing to hold her own with Inari, though Remus didn't really have any doubts. She was, after all, pretty confident, at least from the ten minutes he'd spent with them; and that was good enough for him.

At least, in his own mind.

Remus let out a cackle of laughter and bounded backward, his head still spinning violently as he raised his eyebrows at the one in the fancy sparkling dress. A quick once over made him adopt an amused expression, and he lifted a hand and gave her a mocking salute.

"Right, lemme just do that," he said, in a sardonic voice that indicated he had no intention of doing any such thing, his grin cheeky and mischievous. In spite of the fact that Remus's head was feeling as though it were about to fall off at any moment now and there was blood in his eye and that sort of kind of hurt a lot; he'd watched the group of people outside the portal for both meetings so far; had spent his time scrutinizing what sort they were. And what he'd deduced so far was that nobody knew what they were doing whatsoever.

He didn't dive for Apatite's legs. Instead, he lunged for her shoulder, propelling himself up and trying to knock her sideways.

It was really too bad that, at five foot five at best, Remus was not exactly a linebacker.




General Aurostibite


The knight's magic soared through the air, dominating with its presence. Echoes reverberated throughout Aurostibite's mind, and although the disorientation from the first senshi's light had started to wear off, his hazy thoughts clearing slowly; the thunderclap of voices was almost deafening in front of him. A throbbing in his temple made Aurostibite snarl in irritation, swaying slightly where he stood.

Behellagh, meanwhile, gave a shrieking cry of offense as she was kicked viciously at, and with a wave of his hand, Aurostibite sent her back, preferring to take on the knight himself, eyes flashing. A punch landed against the side of his head, sending him staggering backwards, gasping for breath.

"A funny thing to say, considering you've just invaded our home," he snapped. "We chose none of this, you cowards."

He heard shouts - two more generals had joined, and Aurostibite lunged forward, the curve of a scalloped blade arcing towards the knight's torso.

"Leave."

Mont Blonc, Squire of Saturn

Later, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone exactly how it happened - all he knew was he'd gone down harder than he thought, his pen shifting in his hand, and then - first, an impact, the squire's breath leaving him in a near huff as he landed awkwardly atop the captain. Had something felt wrong, then? Or had he not felt the penetration at all? - all he remembered was the surge of heat against his face, much like a hot shower on a cold winter day.

Except it wasn't. It took him a second to register what was actually happening, what he'd just done. His jaw slackened, his eyes widening, yellow a stark contrast from the splatter of crimson across pale skin, and for a moment all he could do was sit there and stare. He'd heard the saying before, like watching a train wreck - he never understood it quite so completely as he did in that moment, watching someone choke on their own blood before him.

Oh god.

He'd done that.

Oh god.

Did he whimper? Did he scream? It was some kind of strangled sound somewhere in between as he tried to move, tried to pull the pen out and away - and immediately realized how terrible of an idea that was, because there was so much more blood. With another distressed sound, he moved again, dropping the pen completely and pressing both hands to the captain's throat, as though somehow he could stop this, save him -

But there was nothing there anymore.

There was this moment, this long, long moment where Mont Blonc simply sat there, his hands covered now in red and trembling as he stared down at the captain's body. His eyes and mind went blank. Blood everywhere. Couldn't hear anymore. Couldn't see. No, could, could always see, always see padded cells and dead eyes and hear the whistling oh god the whistling oh god oh god -

No.

He could still hear. He could hear fighting. He knew Aegir and Thrymr were there. He knew Methone, Nadia, was waiting out there too. Ploutonion, too. Ploutonion needed this. He needed a way to hope again. He needed.

This. This could wait. - no, no, it couldn't, it had to. He had to keep going. He had to -

If there was ever a time to be strong, for once, this had to be it. So, shaking still, and feeling very much as though part of himself had shattered and was lying in pieces on the ground beside the captain's corpse, Mont Blonc rose. He willed the pen to his hand and did not bother to wipe the blood from his face. Instead, he fixed his stare on the lieutenant, and the look in his eyes was every bit as much haunted as determined.

"Leave. Now." He brandished the pen at him, and his hand, this time, did not shake.

Kolina

kapoodles

Whimsical Blue

Lieutenant Prehnite, Should absolutely Not be here!

He'd intended to be a coward. Loyalty and service be damned, it'd only been a week since...He should have been calling someone to pull his a** out of the fire before he jumped in; or at least make a beeline for the main entrance and home beyond it!

The presence of the General Queen had drawn him out of his hiding spot. Dragged him out and into motion; it wasn't the sort of thing one saw but once in a lifetime.

Apatite; dancing through the gore and bodies like a little girl picking flowers..or plucking the heads off field mice?

Beautiful, terrifying, a total bad-a**.

'Not Human'

All sorts of red flags were up, screaming.

He was moving before he realized it, in motion on instinct and picking up the nearest, least blood soaked weapon. Just in case...

Shouldn't have touched what wasn't his; the weapon didn't feel the least bit right in his hands. He wasn't sure if it's owner was still alive, or off languishing in agony near by. He'd never considered what became of their possessions once they died. Did they vanish altogether? Everything that was them simply returning to the powers that be.

It's better than a Trowel..

He shouldn't have even been here and he felt it in his bones now. Trying to move through the fray unnoticed, to leave unscathed. He thought for a moment he'd seen a flash of someone he knew, a pair of someones maybe, and of course when he asked them explicitly not to get themselves killed they would take that as a que to 'knock on the door of death itself'. Crazy ******** he still owed them both...Maybe he'd owe them a funeral after this mess.

So distracted that he'd nearly skidded into someone else's fight. A petite little Senshi, and another Senshi? No, one of their own, someone on their side and he looked like he was loosing. Prehnite moved without thinking, brandishing the unfamiliar weapon without hesitation.

A squelching splash of warmth and scent of fresh copper was his reward. Panic unbidden on his face, he quickly yanked the blade free of her chest. Prehnite fumbled for a response and found himself lacking anything other than shock.

"Don't.."

Except, that hadn't sounded right. Certainly not his tone, and he wasn't even looking at the corrupt so much as seeing through him; pale and gawking at the macabre scenery like some fledgling. That just wouldn't do, not right now. Later, later he would loose his marbles over the dead little girl...A girl, just a girl, all that blood. Why was he so glad that it was her blood instead of his own?

He had to force himself to look away, focusing on the corrupt in question. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?" The weapon immediately discarded with a look bordering on disgust. He realized how close he'd been to skewering them both; that would have been so much worse.

Prince Castor- Outside of main hall/battle

His business with Bolton concluded-

He had made a mistake, he had failed in his duty, failed an innocent. He had ruined a life.

Castor now was left to his own devices.
He did not rush to the heat of battle. He knew to do so was to only draw more weaker senshi to the line of fire. His magic was hostile and violent. He knew his own methods- There could be no hesitations, no time to pick and choose targets. There would only be action and reaction. In such chaos, he was more a threat to all that to his enemy. More, he'd been misled. His goal was not the agents but their source. The font of their power.

He was a fool. He had hoped and hope had ruined every thing again.

When an agent spotted him, he did not hesitate. He did not question his actions. He simply moved with resolve. His hand grabbing the captain and throwing them to the wall before his fist slammed into their throat.

The look in their eyes never changed. Fear. Fear not of him but what he brought. What he gave.

They gasped for air that would not come, tried to scream but no longer were able. They writhed in agony, breath denied. They died, eyes wide open, silent and unable to scream to beg for mercy or forgiveness.

His goal was to find Metallia. His goal was to fight and kill. There was no time to pick and choose his targets. There was only time to act and reaction. This was war, and it was his element.

Aegir, Super of Silence

Crunchbite was caught in Aegir's hold, he could feel the Captain stiffen in shock at having an arm across his throat, choking the breath out of him. From behind Crunch, Aegir saw Thyrmr's relief and felt shame at what he'd already done. What would his gentle friend think of his having flat out murdered the other Captain?

Later.

Aegir used his free arm to lock down the choke-hold he had on Crunchbite, tightening his hold while Thyrmr came at the captain. A kick. A kick - just like he'd done, only...not quite as strong. He tamped down on the surge of panic for his dear friend and tried to center his focus back on the task at hand, so he missed the disaster of Mont Blonc covered in blood, of the threats to the Lieutenant that had been attacking him and Ash.

"Give up already." The blond hissed into Crunch's ear, low and harsh.

Though Apatite seemed to be wearing down, she was far from defenseless. Had this been a one on one battle, things would have gone much differently. Mostly because she outmatched everyone in strength and speed. The only reason the group around her was still alive was because they had numbers—and though she had a few agents aiding her—Reapettite and Belmontite—Apatite had handled nearly any enemy that came at her by herself.

But these senshi and knights were as much a threat to themselves as they were to her.

They swarmed around her, and she had to admit—she was surprised that she hadn't seen more of them accidentally knocking each other out. It disappointed her. She'd have enjoyed a good laugh.

Ganymede might have been a princess, but her strength was in her magic.

Apatite's strength, was…well. Everywhere else.

Stronger than the Knight, Valhalla, who gripped her arm. Stronger than the squire, Delphi, who tried to punch her. Stronger than the poor little senshi, Remus, who tried to tackle her.

And they all attacked, nearly at once, and it was beautiful chaos.

Valhalla's grip was tight, but she could have thrown him across the room. She imagined he'd make a pretty wall ornament. Delphi's first cuffed her already ringing ear, but the blow was slight. Ganymede's kick might have hit it's mark, but Remus—sweet, wonderful, handsome senshi that he was (though he would have looked far better in black, kneeling at her feet)—saved her from such a fate.

He tackled her to the ground, and she laughed the whole way down.

Her wrist was yanked from Valhalla's hand, and she lost track of where Ganymede and Delphi had gone after Remus tackled her, but she sat up quickly and lifted the senshi by the front of his uniform. "My hero," she purred, and forcefully drew him close. She planted an incredibly overdramatic kiss right on his lips and dropped him as she stood.

She knew she shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t take that starseed, but there was Belmontite, making it so easy.

Just one more wouldn't hurt.

Another grin split on her face, and she snagged it from him. "And I'm kissing you next," she said, but her voice was dark, and her eyes flashed.

Apatite drew the starseed to her lips and swallowed it whole.

Her eyes flashed—yellow—and her nails seemed to grow, like ten tiny talons. Her skin glistened, and she seemed radiant. Her eyes went to the Princess. The taste of the starseed was on her tongue, and she licked her lips.

"Big words for a little girl. When this is all over, I'm going to feed you to the youma. Not the nice ones. The ones that will flay the flesh from your body. That will chew you up, bit. By. Bit. But not before I make you watch me slaughter every last one of your little Knights. Including this one," she said, jabbing her fingers towards Valhalla.

Her eyes shot towards him.

"If you didn't want kids to die, you shouldn’t have brought them into my home. Do you hear me?" she shouted, voice shrill and accusing. She didn't care about the ones who died. There were the bodies of Negaverse agents strewn across the ground. Some of them couldn't have been more than children, by her standards.

They should have trained harder.

"All the blood I spill tonight is on your hands," she said to Valhalla—and to Ganymede—and to everyone around her.

But that twisted grin was still there, and she cooed, suddenly. "Because your princess asked me to. She wanted me to kill them. I'd watch her, if I were you. She's got evil in her. You're just a pawn to her. You all are. That's why she keeps throwing you at me."

She laughed, either to herself, or to the group. "I wish I could admire you for attacking the castle, but you're all just so pathetic. How did you get in here, anyway?"

Her chakrams were suddenly in her hands again—both of them—though she only seemed intent to attacking with one of them.

"If you answer me now, I'll consider killing you quickly."

…She threw her chakram towards another distracted senshi with as much force as she could muster.

She had nothing to worry about; the great doors to Metallia's chamber were still locked, and she had heard no command to tend to the group that was trying to burst their way in. Metallia would let her know if she was needed.

But then, Metallia wasn't really speaking to anyone.

A cool, toxic evil seemed to seep from the behind the room; it was chilling and unnerving, but behind those locked doors, it was silent.

Quote:

Apatite is still attacking those that are attacking hers; if your character is in combat or attempting combat with Apatite, please post how much damage you are willing to take or what damage you absolutely do not want your character to take. She will continue to retaliate against everyone who attacks her, so be warned that if she is your target, your character is in her line of fire!

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Ochre, Corrupted Super Senshi

The lieutenant looked more startled than he about the death, but Ochre didn't think much of it. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Pointedly Ochre did not look down; he did not want to linger on the blood staining his uniform. A hand found the back of his neck as he continued to look wildly about the battlefield. So much occurred that he had trouble tracking who was attacking what, and whether their side was winning. The great hall grew cramped with the ******** of Order and Chaos. Ochre knew not what to do, but felt the pressing need to address it.

Focus. What's most important? Ochre's gaze swept across the battlefield again, finally lighting on the irate form of Apatite. "We should uh, probably help our General Queen. See that senshi there?" He pointed to Remus, who looked like an easy target. "Think you can find another weapon and take care of him? If anyone around here has some useful magic, I can copy it, and maybe use it to distract him. Then she's got one less person to worry about." It sounded, to him, like a solid plan - he knew he held an advantage over the basic senshi by virtue of his upgrade, and knew they had about even footing with magic (if he could copy it).

Ochre did not wait for his new accomplice to comply, however; instinct compelled him to dart forth and engage the target for Apatite's sake, and for the preservation of the Negaverse. He knew no other option that spoke of self-preservation in su͘ch͡ cla̕r̡ion ̵m̀e̡t͠ho̕ds.

The corrupted senshi darted toward his target, amidst the fray of princess and company, to defend his general-sovereign. With fist clenched, he sought to punch the senshi in the face. He didn't care if it was an easily anticipated attack or not, for if his new accomplice (Prehnite) intended to follow through with his plan, then his entire existence here was distraction enough.

And even if Prehnite found no inner will to join, then perhaps he could restrain the senshi enough for Apatite to kill him.

A 'fair fight' to General Tweedledeeite generally meant unfair to anyone else. He generally -- Haha. Generally. General. Punny. He cracked himself up sometimes -- only considered things to be fairly fought when his twin, Tweedledumite, was near. They shared a connection on the battlefield and where one was lacking the other seemed to pick up the slack almost naturally.

Something felt off, though. Something just wasn't right and Dee couldn't quite put his thumb on it. Something was missing -- Wait.

"I KNOW WHAT IT IS," he proclaimed with delight, reaching into his breast pocket for the bubblegum pink ipod that he always stuffed away once he had powered up for the night. There were smudges on the screen; fingerprints left behind from fond touches that were the result of pulling up a certain song that got a playlist all of its own. "I forgot to do my warm up. That's why none of this feels right. These senshi, these knights, so rude that they didn't even give us fair warning that we should be preparing for a fight..."

For a moment Tweedledeeite was able to ignore everything on the battlefield as a stubby finger prodded the screen enough to pull up that playlist. He made an adjustment to the volume, turning it up as loud as he could possibly get the device to go before getting himself into the grove to the tune of Everybody.

The dance routine was one that the thirty year old General had memorized during the height of the band's fame. It made him feel important, filling him with energy and giving him that little bit of added motivation to put him in the right mind frame for a fight. It also helped make him feel just a little bit more agile as he danced around with his weapon. Bess was one hell of a dance partner. Once he finished he would be ready to fight again.

Until then, General Tweedledeeite was in a world of his own.

Everybooody. Yeah. Rock your booody. Yeaaah~