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Character: Super Grieve of the Collapse
Location: H12
HP: 75
Target: Human Construct 2
Action: trying to remove the power core in one piece
Enemy HP: 0

Wrestling with the ********' thing, Grieve managed a loud grunt of gratitude at the Saturn Knight offering to help keep it pinned. A large sword began swinging into the space and thankfully corrected to not break her ********' forearm or put an eye with whatever the shards did. The knockback from the hit brought her hand to wedge in just-so to find the well-hidden latch and pop the panel open.

Glancing over, she identified the Knight as one of the kids in the squad Alastor was training up. Little s**t had already cape'd up and everything. What was Despair even up to with all these teenage knights? By the Mediocre Rack of Cosmos, it was probably some make the world a better place bullshit, wasn't it?

"Thanks," she groused, and in a moment of great courtesy, refrained from laughing when they got hit.

And then Saturn was on it again, along with little Kua'kua and that. ********. Petal attack. She wanted to shout at the child, but didn't want a mouth full of ******** danger flowers, either. At least, between the two's attacks, she could feel the construct lose all momentum and fight.

Reaching into the thing's chest, Grieve dug around to try and safely remove the power core in one piece. Unfortunately, her skill with tech was entirely violence-based rather than involving any kind of actual knowledge.

Character: Lucien - Human Form
Location: M12 > P9
HP: 50
Target: O8 (Humanoid Construct 7)
Action: Attacking Construct with his laser.
Damage Done: 10 - 1d4
Enemy HP: 17 - 12 = 5

Pleased with his acquisition, Lucien inspected the core for just a moment, before tucking it safely into his subspace for the time being. He would return it to Tempesti if she wished to keep it, of course. He would only ask for a chance to study it.

The battlefield never changed. No matter the world, no matter the enemy. His memories weren’t there, but his body felt the instinct to move.

But Sessrumnir summoned his rain again, and Lucien’s ears flicked and his tail lashed.

“Absolutely not,” he muttered to himself, stepping just out of the worst of the downpour. He had no business being drenched like some second-rate soldier. He was not built for charging in. That wasn’t his role.

And yet…. he still felt the itch. The constant press of observation, of watching for patterns in the constructs’ movements, noting where their plating shifted, where their balance faltered. He should have had a weapon in hand, shouting orders to hold formation. He didn’t understand why the impulse burned in his chest like muscle memory, but he couldn’t ignore it either.

The boy (Blarney) had gone up to the construct like a squirrel scaling a tree, a senshi (Bacchus) slammed in with a reckless kick. Then the Senshi (Monch) pointed her hand like a toy pistol and yelled something absurd, filling the grotto with the scent of butter and sound of popcorn bursting against armored glass. Ridiculous. Sessrumnir’s storm battered the thing into imbalance. Sloppy… but salvageable.

Lucien drew a slow breath, and the glow built on his forehead. A narrow beam of focused light shot across the grotto, searing into the construct’s exposed side where others had torn at it. Not enough to down it, but enough to compromise. Enough to make an opening.

“Keep your weight low, Page!” he called to Blarney, his voice sharp with a commander’s bite he hadn’t meant to use. The tone startled him almost as much as it might have startled the boy. He coughed into the back of his hand, his voice softening. “And… mind your back.”

His gaze found the senshi (Monch), wary but curious. She had courage, and the battlefield needed as much as they could get. “...Creative,” he muttered under his breath, although whether it was approval or exasperation, even he wasn’t certain.

Instincts… always instincts. Even if he had no memory of the wars he’d fought, the battlefield still dragged it out of him. Still, he edged a little farther away from the downpour, grumbling darkly about how he was not standing in the rain for this.

Character: Eternal Sailor Oberon of Adventure
Location: F6
HP: 100
Target: E6
Action: Attacking Construct at E6
Damage Done: 10 + 1d10 + 6 (Oort’s buff)
Enemy HP: 50 - 19 = 31

Oberon felt the faint tug of magic as Oort’s key hovered in front of him. The brief shimmer of energy washed over him, and for a moment he could feel the pulse of strength, a physical readiness that made the world seem that much more in focus.

“Thanks,” he breathed, glancing across the grotto as they moved forward. Constructs lurked ahead, some already engaged in battle with others, their intricate stained glass catching the sporadic flashes of magic that lit the area around them. The familiar warmth of magic in his chest felt comfortable and ready for use. He didn’t need a surge of speed. Strength would be enough.

He kept his eyes on the construct in front of them, noting the gaps in its defenses. The way the older machinery had shifted and moved. Behind him, Oort moved with his usual careful stride, keeping an eye on things in the chaotic battlefield. Oberon trusted him to provide cover… and perhaps a little distraction.

A faint shimmer pulsed around him as he cast his magic, watching as it folded invisibly around the construct.

“Let’s see how well these machines hold up,” he muttered under his breath, lips curling into the faintest smirk. Whether or not Tempesti wanted to let them poke around, Oberon couldn’t help but be as curious as Oort was about the constructs.

Character: Ephesus, Knight of the Moon
Location: K12 > N9
HP: 100
Target: N/A
Action: Staying with Amarynthos.
Damage Done: N/A
Enemy HP: N/A

The warmth of Mary’s words made something swell in Ephesus’s chest. It was enough that his freckles gave off a faint shimmer, the barest glimmer of moonlight flickering across his cheeks.

He clung to the comfort for as long as he dared before Cynthus’s voice cut through the noise around them. Ephesus looked up, startled for a moment, then nodded quickly to let her know he heard. The ramp. Right. They had a destination, and she was already clearing the way. That made things easier. They just had to follow her.

“Coming!” he called back, his voice uneven but determined.

For a split second his hand tightened around the honey dipper. Instinct said to use it, to throw some more magic, anything, at the nearest construct. But there were already others moving towards it. They didn’t need him to add to the chaos. He bit down the urge and kept his weapon close, holding it tight against his chest.

He would save his magic for now.

The best thing he could do was stay with Amarynthos, keep up with Cynthus, and be ready when there wasn’t a crowd already fighting. So he lifted his chin and nodded once more to himself as he let Amarynthos lead the way.

He could be brave enough. Especially if he waited for the right moment.

Character Name: Eternal Sailor Alastor, Senshi of Despair
Location: N12 > N9
HP: 100
Target: O8 (Humanoid Construct 7)
Action: Following Sessrumnir and attacking with Super Magic
Damage Done: 10 + 2 = 12
Enemy HP: 0

What was that Earth Page doing? Not that Alastor was in much of a position to criticize; he might have done something odd if he were out of magic. The fight was still so early–and wasn’t he worried about being in the way?

The Senshi–probably from far beyond the stars, judging by his appearance–followed. Alastor questioned him, too–briefly–but he supposed in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. As long as everyone got out safely. Although, Alastor was desperately aching to borrow the two of them for some sparring–

Cardinal did something, but Alastor wasn’t sure what; he was too focused on the threats to give close analysis. Monch had a good advantage–distance–and her magic made it easy to see what it was doing.

He moved with Sessrumnir, glad for his predictable fighting style. Of course Sessrumnir wouldn’t have risked hurting those in close range of the construct, and neither would Alsator.

There was a small part of him that wondered how strong it was–that wanted to rush up to it with Bacchus and Blarney just to see how well it took a hit, but he stayed by Sessrumnir instead, and thought about how Tempesti wanted to spare them as much damage as possible.

So, resigned to restraint, he flashed Sessrumnir a quick smile–a silent promise that he was not rushing into trouble–and again casted his magic on the target.

Safely, and very glad he didn’t have to worry about accidentally targeting anyone else within close range.

His eyes found Lucien instinctively, especially after that blast from the forehead. Bossy, but effective. Comforting, in a nostalgic way. Lucien might not have remembered barking like that when Alastor was a boy, but he remembered. Wary of how much strength Lucien might have after that blast, he let his eyes linger on the Mauvian for a moment, debating on if he needed to intervene before Lucien pushed himself too much.

He seemed fine, for now. Alastor trusted him.

Trusted Solaris, too–even though he wondered if her magic was still giving her a hard time like his used to. He wanted to make sure she didn’t wind out drained and unconscious, too.

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Quote:

Super Sailor Scout Attack: Absence

Alastor speaks the name of his attack and every enemy nearby will feel a complete absence of hope, replaced instead with a strong sensation of despair. The area feels thick with gloom and misery and targets may feel as if there is suddenly an unbeatable obstacle they have no chance to overcome. Targets may feel absolute hopelessness and they may become acutely aware of the hardships and loss in their life. The magic can make someone feel fatigued or physically exhausted and can be disorienting and emotionally draining. The magic lasts for thirty five seconds and has two uses. It affects all enemies within a twelve foot radius of Alastor and the magic will follow him if he moves, but the effects end if the character moves out of radius.

Guine

Sessrumnir, Lucien

lizbot

Monch (proximity)

LP

Cardinal (proximity)

Juliette06

Blarney (proximity)

Honkzilla

Bacchus (proximity)

Kaefaux

Solaris (proximity)

Undeterred by the collapse of their comrades, the constructs press forward to expel the trespassers.


The westernmost construct HC1 hadn’t yet engaged in combat when Sailor Oberon makes his move. Though there is no visible damage the machine slows slightly, sagging as though some internal effect is draining its energy. Defending itself against this attack, it turns its club on the senshi of adventure.


Something within the systems one construct HC3’s systems register Reims closing in on it and surges forward to engage the black and red clad knight. The stained glass sword connects with the gleaming surface of the construct’s shoulder, sending small but noticeable cracks through the ancient seam connecting it to its bladed arm. Drawing its club-shaped arm back, it swings it downward toward its attacker.


Amarynthos’ icy orbs strike one of the constructs (HC4) in its head, turning it sharply on its neck with a grating screech. Swinging its bladed arm after the knight, it slashes at him as he runs past. Solaris puts an end to any further notions of retaliation it might have harbored when her explosive magic sends it clattering to the ground, beyond the help of the flying construct (BC3) which she also caught in the blast.


The weight of the young page Blarney on the colorful facets of the automaton’s (HC7) back might well have come as a surprise, were it capable of experiencing anything akin to human emotion, as it was, it remains a unique occurrence in its centuries-long history. The stick jammed under its chin was yet another unusual development that it resists with all of the might it can muster. Unable to appreciate the novelty of the situation, it swings its arms backward doing its best to buck its unwelcome passenger before being met by the less than substantial boot of a slightly unsteady senshi (Bacchus) and struck once more by the disorienting magic of the Uktena (Cardinal). Its systems reel as it attempts to reorient itself. These efforts of course, are ultimately in vain, a fact driven home by Sessrumnir’s lightning coursing through the machine’s frame. A barrage of popcorn flies into the fray courtesy of Sailor Mönch. Though individually they would pose no threat, the sheer volume and quantity of butter proves a match for the construct’s coordination as it slips and tumbles to the ground. As it tries to haul itself from its prone position, Lucien’s laser blasts it before Alastor’s magic finishes it off.


The construct ridden by Grieve, (HC2) barely has time to react to the failure of its blade before Kua’kua’s petals whirl into the construct’s open chest, sending shudders through the machine. Though it has no lungs, it is clearly unequipped to address the effects of magical flora on its internal mechanisms as whatever serves as the equivalent of its brain slows and glitches, making any efforts to prevent its own dismemberment less than effective.


Lisse’s unicorns prove admirable foes for the unfortunate bee construct (BC2), preventing it from attending to the damage the others dealt to its nearby counterpart.


Niflhel’s meteor hammer makes solid contact with the construct’s arm bladed arm, forcing it downward with a screech. Ancient machinery crackles as the limb loosens, the sharp edge dragging uselessly against the white stone of the ground before losing its connection entirely and dropping. The violence of the motion does nothing to prevent Grieve’s fingers from finding purchase around its core and wrenching it from its chest, though the removal is a less than smooth process, bringing a small assortment of sparking wires along with the sphere, which cracks slightly and vibrates intensely, almost seeming interested in making an escape from Grieve to meet the other constructs as its former housing tumbles to the ground.


As though drawn by some sudden gravitational pull, the remaining constructs turn their attention and begin moving toward the damaged core which has begun to project a kaleidoscopic splinter of light through the crack in its outer shell. It seems as though it might be dangerous to keep nearby.