Ollivander was LIVID. He immediately powered up, expecting the drain on his senses to stop post haste and when it didn't, he was downright enraged. While it wasn't usually in his nature or expertise to fight directly, the plastic tweasers tucked behind his ear absentmindedly wouldn't do him any good as a weapon.
How DARE these upstarts enslave and deceive other Negaverse agents? Who the hell did they think they were?! Upper management was going to get a formal complaint on the lack of due diligence on captains, lieutenants, and generals turning rogue for this damned operation to have gone on long enough to dupe so many. He knew the Ringleader had to be strong to command not one but two youma, and despite his desire to go fight them, he knew he wasn't strong enough, especially without a real weapon of some kind. Draining them of energy wouldn't help, either, it'd be more trouble than it was worth and so as a low ranked Lieutenant, he wouldn't be able to be much help against them.
Damned if he wouldn't fight back against some brain-addled Lieutenant though! The guy looked like an arrogant musclehead, the kind of jock and stupid uneducated a*****e that Tsavolite despised. Him. He'd go after him first and the Captain later if needed. But right now, he needed to swing at something.
"How DARE you take my greatest asset from me, you little upstart! If anyone's going to make it big in the damned organization it's going to be me, not some lackey dog licking his masters boots when he's called!" he growled at the man, picking up a blunted mostly rubber throwing knife, a prop left in the tent from rehearsals. Had there even BEEN rehearsals? How much of what happened had been real? The prop felt good, and somewhat 'right' in his hands though, and though he didn't notice, the tiny plastic accessory tucked behind his ear blinked with a soft green light matching his uniform for a split second as if bolstering his decision. (LMAO GET IT CUZ HES GONNA BE A KNIFE THROWER ONE DAY biggrin )
With all his anger and might, he tossed the damned thing straight at the mans face....and while it gave him a good dull 'whap' right on the jaw, it was still just a prop made of rather safe rubber despite the sting of impact. "Hm. Right. Yes. This is problematic."
staripop rolled 1 10-sided dice:
1Total: 1 (1-10)
Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2018 4:20 pm
Cybele: 30HP 0 DMG at @ Baruminium
One moment Fleur was staring at the mirror that was increasingly shifting and whirling, and then she was back in the seats, ticket hanging heavy around her neck.
Memories collided, swishing about in her head. Monsters. Villains. The Negaverse. Youma. Ugh. What.
Heroes too, maybe. Right, she could fight. Ducking behind the seats, she powered up and then charged in at the nearest violent figure she saw, the white haired woman, fists raised.
No, charging is no good, the not-circus part of her mind said, but it was too late and she was stumbling past, her punch going wide.
General / Eternal / Mauvian Sailor - 40 HP / 1d12-2 attack (a 0 is a miss)
He'd been feeling off, dealing with a developing headache, as things started to make less and less sense to him. Things starting to feel wrong, like they didn't belong, and it was as the magic wore off and slowly puzzle pieces started to fall into place that the ashen haired male came back to himself. While the memories, illusions really, still clung to his conscious mind in an effort to keep him in the spell the male fought mentally to gather himself. This was not who he was...he wasn't some carnival freak! And he didn't use fake, dull, weapons in staged fights.
Maybe he should have remained sitting, taken the time to work himself out, but he got up and slipped off as far as he felt comfortable going so he could power up. He wasn't much for letting this go, even if it was against a fellow Negaverse officer. It didn't matter that he'd never met them, in fact that perhaps made this easier. Stepping into sight he summoned his weapon as he took stock of the youma and officers they'd all have to deal with.
Shaking his head, in an effort to clear the haze, Benitoite kept a grip on his weapon as he tried to focus and keep the thoughts away. The fake memories still clung at the edges of his mind and he really wasn't pleased with this, this simply wouldn't do. In an effort to distract himself, by taking action, the General moved in on the elephant since it seemed most people were going to focus on the other things. Why not take out the biggest thing so with the little remaining energy you can handle the lesser problems?
Swinging at the animal, or maybe it was getting close to the youma, seemed a bad idea as the illusions crept back in with force. Taking several steps back, he hadn't even noticed his attack had missed, as he stared at the creature as the illusions cleared the further he got away from it. "Damn it..."
As the illusions cleared enough for him to think, to focus, he noticed a throbbing in his side and when he looked down he noticed a tear in his clothing and blood trickling from his side. Staring, almost dumbfounded, his gloved hand touching the area, he looked up to the youma. Those tusks no doubt had gotten him...or at least one of them had.
Rhona Lee / Eternal Dark Mirror Sailor Acubens VS Lieutenant Taylorite Eternal Sailor - 38 / 40 HP 1d12-2 attack - (1-2)0 gurl
Rhona blinked over and over as if trying to make her eyes focus through sheer force of will. It was like when she was suddenly dragged from really deep sleep and though she could see things, it was like thinking through the mud. Synapses fired too late. But she fought. She fought hard against the current dragging her back under and when she finally broke free, blind, white-hot fury roared through her louder than any cry from the shadow creatures before her. She tore the badge from around her next and jumped to her feet, not caring who saw her power up at that moment (she half suspected that with all of the chaos, no one would notice anyway) and slammed herself into her power like a freight train.
Magic surging through her veins, Acubens sprinted for the first familiar aura she could find. Mithra battled a young man, a Dark Mirror Island among a see of potential enemies. It was clear who they were fighting now, and while there were negaverse agents fighting the same combatants, there was no way of knowing how much of this was a ruse and how much was real.
Trust no nega b***h...
She felt that mantra now more than ever as she sprinted to Mithra's side and shouted the name of her most powerful attack, only to have it miss. Acubens cussed aloud and waited, trying to find a clear opening to try again... she should have enough juice for one more go, right?
Gisela Louise / Corrupt Sauilor Noctua VS Mammoth Basics - 15 / 20 HP 1d8-2 attack - (6-2) 4 Total Attack Rolls - 4
Gisela woke up suddenly, as though from a dream where she had been falling. Except... she hadn't woken up... because she hadn't been asleep... right? The man in the center of the ring was speaking, but Gisela had a difficult time understanding what he was saying. She recognized the words, but her brain refused to translate them. Like when her mother spoke in her native tongue and Gisela knew the words, but no their meaning. So Gisela sat, paralyzed but awake, and tried to break the spell that her mind had cast on her. That's all this was, after all, sleep paralysis. Her body awake, but her mind refused to follow suit. She knew this feeling. She knew what it could do to her. Gisela's pulse quickened in anticipation of whatever shadow creature her imagination could draw up for her -- the damned thing creating worse and worse monsters now that she was what she was.
And draw up some strange monstrosity it did. From behind the man in the center of the ring the curtains began to draw back and out from the darkness there within emerged dark and shadowy figures. Fear rose in Gisela's throat like bile and she tried to blink but her painfully dry eyes remained glued open, watching the massive mammoth creature lumber forth from the darkness. Around it's feel wicked black smoke curled like fingers, making Gisela's skin recoil in fear and loathing. But the next creature was just as fearsome... three heads and razor sharp teeth. Bone and smoke and nightmares. A cry tore loose form somewhere and Gisela broke free of the spell that kept her bound and still.
Anger rose to take the place of fear, quickly spreading forth it's acrid reach to burn everything in it's path. Gisela welcomed it. She had found that there was strength in anger; certainty in rage. No one made a fool of her and got away with it. Basic though she may be, she was still a monster of the Negaverse's twisting. Be they Negaverse or Order, Gisela would take no prisoners and show no mercy in her vengeance. No one noticed her powering up in the chaos of what followed, and she was glad of that, the familiar warmth of her power melting over her like a welcome friend. She could hear the power surging through her veins. Feel it on her fingertips. Taste it on her lips.
No one makes a fool of her. Not now... not ever again...
Noctua ran for the nearest monster and unfortunately the largest. She was going to murder that thing right where it stood and nothing was going to be able to stop her.
Except, evidently, the swirl of color that knocked her right off her feet and brought her to her knees.
The bones said... four choices... four trials to solve... the ticket with the black and glossy feather covering the circus ticket... crystals with lines drawn through them... omens and warnings and glimpses into reality...
Noctua shook the feels from her mind like cobwebs and glanced to her left. A general -- not much older than her, but vastly more powerful -- knelt and observed his bloodied glove. His blood, Noctua noticed. No time to be concerned about someone else. She struggled back to her feet and searched for the eyes of the youma. Her spell fell from her lips like a prayer when she found them. It was a weak attack, she knew, a curse of her station, but maybe it would at least buy enough time for someone stronger to do more damage...
Curse her weakness...
Noctua Feverish Nights Noctua closes her eyes and calls the name of her attack. Upon opening them, she will lock eyes with one person and they will be immediately subject to the attack. For the next ten seconds the victim will feel like they haven't slept well for the past few nights. They will feel sluggish, irritable, and confused. Noctua can use this attack 3 times in a battle if she pushes herself, but mostly she keeps it to twice. It's useful mostly for getting away or getting in a sucker punch if she needs to.
Note: She needs to lock BOTH eyes with her opponent. So if someone has a non functioning eye for whatever reason, the attack will not work. Alternately, if Noctua's eyes are out of commission due to whatever reason, be it darkness or injury, the attack will not work. If the environment is too dark to see anyone's eyes, the attack will fail as well.
Lieutenant / Basics - 20 HP / 1d8-2 attack (a 0 is a miss)
Why did it feel like he was pulling himself out of sleep, where he still heard things from the dream but really wasn't asleep. Only in this case it was a bit different, and yet similar. The voices were different and he had memories of one life mixing with those of another so it was one big mess which ad him wishing for sleep right now, like he would if he really were waking up from sleeping. Instead he had to force himself awake as this, whatever this was, seemed really important and a lot dangerous.
Looking over to the male at his side, noting they still seemed out of it, and up he stood as he slipped back behind the seats so he could power up. It seemed other people were doing the same, powering up, in order to handle what he could only assume were youma. Nothing was confirmed till he was powered up, and even then he was still so new to this. He knew he felt chaos but it wasn't like his...it was like the General in civilian form who'd been sitting next to him.
Deciding to do what he could, little as it was, to protect the other and himself the dark mirror senshi turned his sights onto the weird, very weird, horse which looked like something out of a nightmare...or some horror movie. How the head thing worked he wasn't sure, it looked really over crowded there, and he did wonder if it fought over food....did it actually eat? It didn't matter though, it was an interesting idea however, what mattered was dealing with it and removing it. He didn't know much on youma and right now it didn't matter to him. It was something bad and part of whatever had happened.
He understood now why the mirror thing in his, no not his, tent with the female when they'd been planning their future act. He still somehow felt like that had been his life, that it belonged, but it also felt wrong. How odd and warring that was. If he had the ability to go camping he might have decided to do that after this, in a little tent in the woods and with little strings of lights about the tent, but he didn't have that ability.
He didn't know much on how his magic worked but he figured he needed to try, if for no other reason than he needed to get out of here and help himself. That was why he found himself blowing a kiss, sort of, towards the nightmarish horse. "Heart's Compassion"
Ok...so maybe he was a bit too far away? Maybe he also tripped, not seeing something left on the ground, and he fell right onto his face on the ground - great. He didn't hurt his face but his knee was bleeding when he stood up with a slight limp. His knee was going to bruise, actually he was sure he could see it already discoloring.
Quote:
Sailor Scout Attack: Heart's Compassion Pressing two fingers to his lips Melpomene will blow a kiss towards the target as he calls his attack. His target must be within five feet of him, direction they are in does not matter though the attack must be aimed at them, once the little swirl of bleeding hearts hits them the individual will feel compassion, and tenderness, for everyone around them - enemy or ally and will try and help them if they are in need of help. They will not try and hurt anyone. This attack will last thirty seconds and can be used three times in battle.
*Once he locks onto a person, and blows the kiss, it will hit them even if they move - unless they move out of his five foot range.
Rolled: 1-2 = -1 (When I didn't think my rolls could get any worse.) Melpomene's Health: 20-4=16
< Aisha Ainesworth >Skilled Combatant x Snake Charmer Civilian 1d6-1 (a 0 is a miss) Target:Elephant Youma
Start Hp: 15 -5 for every attack against the Elephant Youma.
Damage Dealt Overall: -5 Damage Taken overall: -5 Current Hp: 10
Syrie rolled 1 10-sided dice:
3Total: 3 (1-10)
Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2018 11:19 pm
Tiberius V. THAT ******** HORSE THAT KICKED JOE IN THE HODENSACK HP: 22/30 | DMG: 1
In for a penny, in for a pound. Since Tiberius was already on the stupid nag's head - one of them, anyway - he figured he should try to get some more damage done while he was there. Up close and personal.
The way the horse had gotten with Joe's poor, abused hodensack.
The man hadn't deserved that nasty kick, not one bit. And even if he had, you just didn't kick a dude in the balls without a really good reason. Being tacked up for a show was not a good reason in Tiberius' book. Or wait, did that even count or matter anymore? Considering that it all hadn't happened? Maybe hadn't happened?
"Whatever, I still don't like you and Joe deserved better!" But now, there were lots of people - and even some other Mauvian fluff-a** attacking the horse - or trying to. Some had better luck than others. A senshi tried using it's magic and basically fell flat on it's face. Tiberius would have laughed his fluffy butt off, but he was a bit busy clinging onto the thrashing Youma's crest.
"Man, calm the hell down and die." Tiberius meant to bite the whole ear off, but instead only caught the tip. Just the tip.
Whisler vs. Lieutenant Taylorite 40 HP - 2 : 38 HP Damage: 3 - 2 = 1
Things had been going so well…of course something had to happen. Of course nothing had been real…had it?
The splintering cracking feeling had a heartbreaking cry wrenched from Nick and he tried desperately to cling to Arias…the only thing that was real…the only thing that mattered…
Suddenly they were no longer curled up in bed together, but in the big tent…was it time for a show? No…no they had come to the circus…it had been a date.
For a moment, Nick reached out and gripped Arias’ arm tightly, his vision spinning slightly, unable to focus on anything, unable to do anything for a moment but gasp for breath and hope that things would become easier to understand sooner rather than later.
One thing troubled him more than anything else, causing tears to begin to collect in his eyes.
They weren’t married. There were no talks of children there had been no resolution…no sweet smiles from his…his husband? No, boyfriend.
For a wild moment, Nick could only think about leaving. Getting out. Dragging Arias out of this tent and figuring out what was going on, fixing whatever had been broken and doing whatever he had to in order to secure the future he had been daydreaming about. Children. Marriage…
He had never wanted those things so much as he did in this moment. The moment where he realized he had never had them in the first place.
As Nick’s eyes roamed around, as things began to make a little more…or perhaps less sense, the ringmaster…energy…
…So it had been nothing but a ******** up trap. A plot to collect energy…interesting…
With his hand still clutching Arias’ arm, Nick powered into Whisler, trembling with anger, and suddenly stopped, his eyes finally landing on the red haired male from earlier. The one who had enchanted and frightened him, and for a long moment, he simply stared. “That…that’s him…” The murmur was meant for Arias and he hoped the other male heard. “The redhead I told you about I…”
He was part of the Negaverse. It figured. <******** chaos.
Whisler bent down and picked up something from the floor, lobbing it at the lieutenant, then felt horribly guilty. He was part of the circus too…why was he…
Trembling slightly, the knight drew in a breath. “…Our…our kids Arias…I still want them…”
None of this made sense…
Kyuseisha no Hikari
Kyuseisha no Hikari rolled 1 12-sided dice:
12Total: 12 (1-12)
Posted: Mon Mar 05, 2018 8:05 am
Newgrange vs. Lieutenant Taylorite 40 HP - 2 : 38 HP Damage: 12 - 2 = 10
The only constant in any of this seemed to be that nothing was staying constant. Memories from one life time and another slammed against each other, fighting for dominance, and for a moment, Arias couldn’t process which was the true reality.
They both felt real enough to him.
Nick felt real next to him. His own face was set in a stern grimace—an expression not common on Arias’ face. He was taking in the scene, identifying the threats. Trying to figure out what he could do, in the seconds he had to prepare.
He was not a man who could sit by and not act, and he processed rapidly that no matter who he was, no matter what his life was, the Negaverse was once again screwing things up.
He was usually more cautious than this; he hadn’t powered up in a public place like this before, but he would rather be inconvenienced than dead, and if he didn’t act, people could get hurt. The lights were dark enough that he was confident he didn’t have to worry about his identity being revealed—he hoped—and he slipped from Arias to Newgrange very shortly after Nick powered up next to him.
He didn’t know how to process Nick’s words. Kids. A thought he’d put on hold a while ago when he realized they might not ever have a relationship that allowed for them.
But that was a thought for the future, when they made it out of here. When he could sit down and think and talk to Nick.
The only words he could process right now were ‘That’s him.’
A man, who had made a conscious decision to participate in this scheme. A lieutenant, so unfairly weak against him, but power meant nothing. It wasn’t a need for revenge, at least, it didn’t feel like it, but Newgrange was upset, frustrated, and so tired of these games.
His whip felt right in his hand, and he gripped it tighter before he descended upon the lieutenant and lashed out at him.
He wanted out of this tent, out of the remnants of this illusion.
Glen looked around, the illusion finally fading, only to see a ******** elephant monster jesus ! Acting quickly, he transformed into Sailor Naos. He knew it wouldnt mean much in the long run, since he didn't have an attack, but he could at least buy himself some time by transforming and then, thinking rather impulsively, launched himself at the elephant. Attempting to climb on its back, trying his best to ignore the nausea that came with...was the elephant really wooly? was this part of the illusion!? Well, today Naos ******** up and knew it.
Shannon Mccord//Lt. Strengite vs Woolly Mammoth Lieutenant / Basics - 20 HP / 1d8-2 attack (a 0 is a miss) HP: 20-5=15 // Dmg: 4-2=2
Kaboom!
The sound! That damn sound was driving her insane. Like nails on a chalkboard or someone screeching inside her head. It was wrong. Everything was wrong! Her ears felt like they should be bleeding and her head should be splitting apart, one fracture at a time. Two worlds were colliding inside her skull, mixing and matching, a swirling tempest of memories and thoughts both true and false. What was fake? What was real?
Before she was able to scream out in pain something inside broke. The building pressure shattered and the veil was ripped from her mind. She was Shannon Mccord, freelance writer and a negaverse Lieutenant... Right? It was hard to focus on the exact details but she knew, knew, the memories of the circus weren't right. It was hazy but everything was slowly melting away, reveling an enormous tent. Red and white striped canvas above her head and rows upon rows of wooden benches around her.
She remembered! She was a the circus! At the circus to write it up for a job but everything was tangled. The more Shannon tried to remember the harder it became, as if her very thoughts were fighting against her. She tried to wade through the mire of her memories when laughter drew her attention. The man standing there in the center of the ring, laughing lightly as if her fake world hadn't just shattered around her, grated on her nerves. Never had she wanted to punch someone in the face as badly, besides Wither right after he corrupted her, especially when he opened his mouth and belittled what just happened. A wee bit of a problem? The hell it was. He just ******** hypnotized them. He sucked them into his little world like they were NPC's or something. Shannon was no one's ******** play thing! She had play things but she wasn't one!
As she sat there on the stands, tying to wrap her mind around what just had happened and fighting the urge to get up and slap the living s**t out of the ringmaster there was a deafening roar that echoed in the tent. The a*****e lifted his hand and gives a lazy little wave like a ******** priss, and the curtains at the far end of the tent push open, something enormous, something massive and twisted and smoky stampeding forward. A monster? What the living hell!
"Sorry, I can't have you going back now, can I? You're taking all of my lovely energy with you, and I'm afraid I need that." The center stage d**k spoke up, drawing Shannon's attention away from his pet monster and back to the puppet master. Silver eyes narrowed as she bit back a curse. That little ******** needed to die! Shannon used this anger to focus on the task at hand even as her mind remained hazy, memories continuing to play tug-a-war in her mind. First though she needed to actually power up because there was no way she could knock his ******** block off as a civilian.
Slipping from the bleachers the curvy woman quickly found a shadowed alcove, devoid of observers, and became Strengite. She might not be the best and brightest of negaversers but it was better then nothing. Quickly entering the rapidly devolving situation, both 'order' and 'chaos' just attacking the four who seemed to be standing between them and the ringmaster, Strengite tried to make a beeline to the d**k who was behind all this. Her forward motion halted by the hulking mass of the woolly mammoth type monster, her thoughts fading back to her 'life' at the circus the closer she got to the beast.
Shaking her head to free it from the spell of the false memories Strengite fell back, surprised to find herself near Beni, a brow rising in surprise to see blood seeping from his side. If he got hurt what kind of chance did she have! Her fingers tightened around the handle of her flyswatter as she eyed the beast. With nothing more then a vague idea the pale haired Lieutenant attacked Manny, swinging at it as hard as she could with her weapon before her mind went foggy with the false memories.
Sleet Tempest Snape
Hi Beni -waves-
It's not an elephant. In fact, it looks more like a woolly mammoth, the tusks long and lethal, black smoke curling around it. It is, in fact, the personal youma of the man in red, standing a short distance away. It has spent many years under his control, and it is not happy. Getting too close to it means the hallucinations begin again, distorting the air around you so that everything is a confusing mix of reality and illusion.
Fiction1119
Original Lunatic
Online
Meighei rolled 1 10-sided dice:
7Total: 7 (1-10)
Meighei
Bishoujo-senshi Mahou-shoujo
Offline
Posted: Mon Mar 05, 2018 11:51 am
Alphonse Wingates-St. Grey to Erytheia / 26 HP / 7 DMG to Horse Youma
Where was he? Wasn't he looking for something? He remembered searching for it, but it wasn't there. What had it been?
Alphonse remembered his life in the circus. He was an archer. He lived for the shot and the sound of the arrow on the string. The showman and his target. Nothing else mattered. His beautiful robes flowing, the spotlight in his hair, the stars in his eyes...
But those weren't real. Those weren't his real memories. He was something other than that. Something far greater than that...
What could be greater than that?
What was the truth? What was reality? What did he want to be...
The young man's eyes snapped open and he could see the world as it was. He could not answer the last question, but he now knew the answer to the first.
Alphonse was back in the circus tent - a simpler version of it now. The lights of the spotlight and the glamour of the stage were no longer upon him. He was the spectator now. But the show was not what he had come to see. There was a horse - fierce and fiery, all three heads rearing - pawing the ground with its obsidian hooves looking for a fight. It had been a horse he had been looking for before he left the dream and he hadn't been able to find it. Now it was here before him.
Alphonse reached for his bow and arrow like it were mere instinct. Had he really been in the dream that long? Of course, it wasn't there. Yet he knew he had another weapon - one with real magic and not like the one (he thought) he had used on stage. He summoned it. It was time to return to reality.
