As a knight, he was supposed to do things for his wonder. Or something like that.
Overall, having shown up out of curiosity and that had quickly devolved into instant regret. Now, in the heat of battle, faced with two options, corruption or death-
He was not wanting to go the way of his namesake, comic book universe, cinematic universe, or any other universe. Half way ready to once more yell at fate and irony, Loki made his way to the nearest generator and hit it- granted with a glorified hammer made of wood but hey, if it happened to catch on fire maybe he'd have that going for him? Or something?
Show up, they said, it would help her make connections she was told, you'd find allies was the idea.
Well that idea sucked.
Sucked as much as anything, given Utopia had never been in a fight before and frankly, was not excited about it. Flinching at the violence, dodging, trying in general to stay alive, eventually, she couldn't stay out of the fray forever, gasping when the chaos hit. She barely had the time to think let alone act. Sending her magic out, she knew it wouldn't do much, but, at the very least, it may do something.
Squire Paris of Saturn HP: 75 Action: Attacking Generator Damage 1d10(10)+5+2+5=22 Location: B2
Now.
Paris had come because he was good.
He wasn't one to deny that he wanted to do good, to help people. But he was... bad at it. Very bad. His attacks were not great, he hit himself half the time, and honestly he really, really wished he had made a better effort to know others, to maybe not be so painfully alone.
He missed Stella. He missed her encouragement, her kindness, her warmth. As chaos touched him he shuddered but not in fear. It just made him ache- she'd been kind to him. Made him feel like he mattered, like he could change and help people. But right now eyes were on him, he was supposed to be a knight, and he didn't see her- she'd forgive him if he didn't look, didn't hit them directly right?
The jaw of the skull opened, the noxious gas plumed out. As Paris gagged, he wished Stella was around. She'd know what to do because in the heat of battle- Paris did not.
Nembus jumped in surprise when addressed by someone who wasn't the voice of the senshi she expected. She practically whipped around, but there was no point; the cat was already on her shoulders and was murmuring to her a promise she never thought she was going to hear.
Wings.
She knew what those meant.
Nembus might have tried to stop it, but there was no way to deny Metallia's power.
The chaotic energy was funneled away from the air and through the cat who was embued with power, into Nembus' starseed. The gasp that made it out of her throat was choked and hard. She felt her hair grow longer. She felt another skirt billow around her. She felt her skirts hit the backs of her knees. She felt a weight burst to life on her lower back that hadn't been there before.
And, most importantly, she felt chaos.
She felt the chaos blooming to life all around her, invigorating her, strengthening her, filling her with energy and glee that felt both thrilling and sickening, and she felt the chaos blooming to life in her own soul as the pain receded.
There she stood, cat on her shoulders, breathing, panting.
An eternal corrupted senshi.
Phaethon had just seen that.
The general-sovereigns had probably just seen that.
This hadn't been what she wanted at all, and yet a strangely bright, "Thank you," was all that made it out of her lips.
Name: Super Corrupt Miyamoto HP: 75/75 (I think it's right) Action: Moving from D2 to B2, arriving, and going for a certain Cinnamon senshi (Don't know who else is there.) Damage: 2 + 5 + 2 = 9 Location: B2 (I think)
He was sure he'd angered someone by leaving where he'd been, and not protecting the generator there, but there were so many people from both sides. Not only that but his own Captain was just that - a Captain. And strong as Wolframite was, and as much respect as he had for him, Miyamoto wanted to help him because he was likely to be overwhelemed as well.
When he did arrive on the scene he took a moment to asses things, there were a lot of people here. He took note of who was were, to the best of his ability, before deciding to attack the one senshi he notced had wings...and he was standing not far from a downed General whom he'd seen and worked with before.
"Sweeping Loneliness" The words were called out without much thought, without time to decide that this might not be a good idea.
Orangeish Sherbert
MoonKitsune
Hi, I'm here.
(Sailor Scout Attack: Sweeping Loneliness With this attack Miyamoto gives a sweeping gesture with his hand, either one will do, and while nothing is seen those within a four foot range (in front of him only) will suddenly feel lonely, as if they are the only person alive even if there are people all around them. They will feel small and alone in the world. This feeling will last for twenty seconds before fading away. Can be used three times in battle.)
Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2021 9:24 pm
Character name, rank, and a link to their journal: Corrupt Sailor Ilse HP: 50 Action: heeehehehehehehe Damage N/A Location: B4
Ilse began to giggle. And then to laugh. Lysithea held her hand and puileld her down, and she went, and she hit her knees, reaching out to cup Lysithea's cheek.
"It's okay, sweetling. Soon, you'll be just like me." Corrupted. Beautiful. This was so much better than killing Lysithea, or otherwise eliminating her. This meant that Lysithea would be with her, in the darkness and the dirt. Instead of being all high and mighty and light.
"You'll look so good in black, pretty thing," she said, and she giggled. It was a mad, gleeful noise, fueled by all the chaos bubbling in the air. It made Ilse feel powerful.
(The youmaglia in her head drank it eagerly.)
Certainly, she knew others were turning traitor. It was impossible to ignore the brightness in the air. But they would be dealt with. They would all be dealt with. They would die, or they would come to Chaos.
Character name, rank, and a link to their journal: Corrupt Sailor Lionel HP: 32 Action: Recovering Guinevere! Damage: N/A Location: B6 -> B5
Lionel moved further, to chase down the Senshi he'd bene targeting before, but--
As he did, he watched, in shock and horror, as Chaos began to descend upon the field.
It filled him, invigorated him, but at the same time, he watched it bleed over white and darken bright colors, and it made him sick.
He had chosen this. Had been found and given a chance to be something greater. He'd given Arsenolite the same choice. And in the abstract, he thought that maybe it wouldn't be too bad to bring someone over against their will. Bujt in the concrete moment, watching the brave little Senshi in pink and blue struggle to save her friend as darkness bled over her, he felt sick.
Even as it flowed through him, bolstered him, made him feel like he could do this all ******** day, he hated it.
But the girl in pink was one of theirs, now, and he moved forward, even in the face of the chibi who had shot him twice hissing and spitting in his face.
He looked after the Senshi in red and purple, and called, loud enough for her and the Chibi and the cat to hear--
"I'm taking your friend with me. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her." He tried to make it sound mocking. Wished he could be as sincere as he wanted to be.
But he was gentle and careful when he scooped Guinevere up, taking pains not to jostle the feather that her fingers were curled around. He would sort out what to do later. For now, he wanted to keep this unconscious new Corrupt safe.
Kaefaux
Aurelius0815
Natsuko-neko
Amasis rolled 1 10-sided dice:
10Total: 10 (1-10)
Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2021 9:36 pm
Imhotep, Page of Mercury HP: 50/50 Action: Moving to F2 to try and wail on the generator there with the power of anger Damage: 1d10 + 3 + 1 = 14 DMG Location: F4 -> F2
Not to say that the battle had been going spectacularly well from what Imhotep could see, but the miasma that swept across the field certainly didn't seem to be helping things. He saw from the edges of his vision that people were reacting to it. Growing stronger, some of them. More distracted, others.
Angrier.
Imhotep, for his part, felt a curious peace wash over him, an iciness that burned itself into his mind and into his heart and body. He saw Promethei shout, but did not hear what he said over the roar of silence in his ears. He saw Promethei move and observed it with detached mild interest.
He saw Promethei attack the generator and, for a moment, wondered why. Would that not delay what seemed inevitable? Would that not disturb the peace of it all?
Peace? There were people fighting, people dying. What peace?
Well, it was only natural to struggle against the inevitable, but it would proceed forward regardless. That laser had been a catalyst, pushing things forward even faster. Forward to what? Their inevitable end. Would it not be good for him to allow nature to take its course?
There was nothing natural about watching someone's features twist and warp under corruption.
It might not look very good from Imhotep's vantage point, but nothing seemed natural. And it was hardly inevitable. Imhotep tried to shake off the blanket of darkness settling over his thoughts, but it budged much less than he wanted it to. His eyes went back to the generator that Promethei had run to attack. A good idea, then. He would be able to think better without that there.
Without it pushing his thoughts a certain way.
Though his facial expression remained utterly blank, Imhotep surged forward under a sudden wave of 'how dare they, how dare they' repeating in the back of his mind. There was no shout from him as he wound up and lashed out with all the strength he could muster. There was barely a grunt out of him.
Mainly silence.
Seiana_ZI
Quote:
And anyone else in F2 who wants to see Imhotep and his :.| face
Character name, rank, and a link to their journal: Corrupt Super Sailor Xenia HP: 66 Action: Attacking Vela because Traitors make us ALL LOOK BAD. Damage: 4 + 5 + 5 = 14 DMG Location: F4 -> F2
Their generator was blown. There was no point staying here, even if she wished she'd been able to finish off that stupid little cat before she managed to upgrade the other Chibi right in front of Xenia's face.
It was like a personal insult. It made her wrinkle her nose and dust off her skirts in a huff. But Chaos had been good to her, so much better than OIrder.
Ugh, she wished Wavellite was here, a good cuddle would make everything better. But there wasn't time for cuddles, and Chaos was filling the air, and Xenia inhaled it, closing her eyes briefly to take it in.
Then she opened them.
And saw her General rush towards the square full of t r e a s o n.
As she ran to follow him, her eyes fell on the orange-haired former Corrupt that had just purified. One of the traitors was dead, but this one--this one still breathed.
"How dare you purify like that," Xenia said, angrily. "You're going to make them hate all of us!"
She threw an angry little punch, aiming for Vela's back./
As a cat, she had no place on the battlefield. She really didn't. But with so many others present, and the queen no less, Enyo felt it her duty to see to the battle. While she remained at her post, dutifully keeping watch over the agents and corrupted, she hardly expected to get pulled into the fray. Much less, to find... something so... delicious smelling.
The scent of freshly caught squid, the enticing aroma of top grade sashimi, the delectable mouthwatering bite of umami from urchin- Enyo looked at the Gnerator and had a single thought. 'Well if they did not want me to have whatever is inside, I wouldn't be able to do this now would I?"
This being use her kitty laser on the the she had been told to ignore. In her defense, it held fish. And she deserved a reward for having to deal with navigating all these fighting fools.
Alum of Abyss HP: 75 Action: 7+5+3=15 Damage Location: B2
Oh to be free, to be allowed to kill, to harvest as many as possible. They may not be supposed to kill anyone but maybe, if Alum was good, maybe, just maybe they'd be allowed? As a treat? Giddy from the violence, and at the fact that there were so many senshi falling, Alum couldn't help but not notice where their magic was going as they cast it, cackling madly as another senshi fell in the distance.
To say he was just doing his job was an understatement. He was... really just trying to not do anything. Avoiding most of the fighting, Lime was more... casually shoving people back into the mess and looking mildly offended when he got yelled at to actually fight.
Problem was... he wasn't sure what he was supposed to fight? The senshi and knights where moving targets- but that towering generator was.... tempting. For some reason he couldn't put his finger on, it seemed like the best thing to attack. It smelled nice and al but something seemed.... suspicious about it. It was best to remove it entirely.
Busy stabbing a number of people and putting far too many fencing lessons to pracical use, Vladimirite scowled as he looked to the eyesore of a generator. It smelled. It smelled stupidly like hot pockets of the pizza variety and while it made no sense, it was offensive to him personally- a distraction. And in the midst of combat, there could be no distractions.
Quote:
TOTAL DAMAGE TO B2 GENERATOR: 60
I WAS WRONG B2 HAS 1 HP RIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
Basiluzzo Page of Uranus HP: 50/50 Action: Moving to attack the next generator, concurrent with Encke's panic attack Damage: d10 + 3 + 1 = 12 DMG Location: F4 -> F2
The waves of sickness had crashed into Basiluzzo, at first, and left him breathless under the weight and force of it. It was crawling down his throat, choking him on nothing. He could scarce celebrate the generator failing, struggling against the whispers that told him it was for naught, that there were plenty more where that had come from. Couldn't he see them all? There were still plenty of generators, still plenty of Negaverse to defend them.
What was the point?
He turned from the ruins of the generator in front of him.
He might as well-
Encke. Encke frozen in place, eyes wide.
Not frozen in place.
Struggling. Struggling against something Basiluzzo couldn't see, couldn't hear. But Basiluzzo had seen that look on Encke's face before, had seen that trapped-animal look on Encke's face before. On Ignacio's face before. It had been years, but he had seen that look before.
He could still remember the sound Ignacio made when the nightmares woke him. They still happened sometimes. They were better now, but they still happened sometimes. When Richard had first met Ignacio, he'd had that trapped-animal look in his eyes. He'd followed Richard with it. It had rested in his frame at all times, especially when he had that noise, that rattle in his chest.
It sounded like a death rattle, and it still unnerved him to think about all these years later. The too-pale face, the way his movements had stop-start-stop-started during the bad spells. He could remember some of the things Ignacio had said, when he trusted Richard enough to stay with him even briefly. He could remember some of the things Ignacio had said even before then--
Ignacio was standing, back rigid against the side of the building he leaned against. Richard could see the tension singing through his body, and he kept his distance from this strange man he kept finding himself running into--sometimes nearly literally. It was a chilly night, but Ignacio didn't seem to be cold from what Richard could see. Again, though, he kept his distance. Ignacio was silent. Richard was silent, cautious, poised to spring in the opposite direction if any of Ignacio's tension snapped lose toward him.
Ignacio only moved to open his mouth, though even that small change made Richard's heart jump into his throat.
'It's linked up to sarin gas; a little painful, fairly quick.'
Like he was repeating something, and Richard's mouth went dry. He tensed to run if necessary--
Then Encke was on his feet again, and the spell was broken. But in its place, clarity on what had happened to Ignacio, clarity that he had not had at the time. It would be a long while yet from that moment that Ignacio would tell him about it. But now Basiluzzo felt the wave of rage rather than the surge of fear, and he lashed for the generator with as much strength as his still-healing body could muster.
Seiana_ZI
Quote:
And F2 in general!
Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2021 10:21 pm
Cadet Lysvi Action: Agreeing with Fae-fae and Naeria! This is not the Velencian way. Damage: -- Location: D4
What were they supposed to do?
The generator that Caedus had attempted to stop continued to whirl and destroy the remnant of the moon of their old world. The attempts by those of the White Moon were useless. The strange energy in the field only grew stronger and they saw people around them fall and their outfits turn colors as they fell to the forces of Chaos. They saw Velyria die, crystallized. They saw Caerynn die, crystallized. They saw Caedus laying, breaths shallow, not quite dead. They saw the chaos whipping around them and the mistrust and the denial of their words and the desperation and the way they had decided to go against their words and the way the Commodore told them all to leave.
But they felt frozen in place, their body shaking, their grip on their phaser becoming ice-tight.
They saw some of the White Moon break through and make their way to Caedus. One kissed his lips, another kissed his forehead. One seemed to promise to fight for him, running up to Lyndin. Those of Chaos either ignored him or apparently had attempted to injure or kill the Velencians.
This wasn't right, but Lysvi didn't know what to do.
I will admit that I am not entirely sure they have been found yet.
And they had felt frozen in that until Fae-fae spoke.
They haven't had the time to adapt like we have.
Naeria spoke, too.
He doesn't want to die.
He clearly didn't.
I don't want anyone else to die.
Neither did Lysvi.
They knew what they had to do.
Their steps were slow, measured. They stepped to stand on the other side of Fae-Fae. They kept their blaster out, but it was clearly intended not for them. For this thing that was tearing them apart. For this thing that was putting Velencian against Velencian. For this thing that was breaking their word, their word to people who had trusted them.
"This isn't right."
Their voice was thin, airier than it should have been. Lysvi was always a more optimistic thing. Perhaps that was part of the reason why they stepped forward. They glanced back to Yddagen for only a moment, offered the faintest smile in the direction of their twin, and continued, looking to Lyndin once more. The Commodore. The one whom she had been so excited to see in action.
"Fae-fae is right. We adapt to each other. This planet does not yet appear to have a senshi either. They have figured out how to survive. How to thrive." Lysvi swallowed. "We adapt. We can survive. We can thrive. We adapt to each other. We adapt to him." They looked to Caedus. Caedus, who those of Order still seemed to love. Caedus, who might be able to recover the damage done here.
They didn't want enemies that extensive, that deep, not so many of the senshi and knights of the universe feeling betrayed by them.
"He doesn't want to die. I don't want to see more people die. I don't want to see more of our people die. I don't want to see more of our people die because we are not trusted."
They swallowed. Not the point. Stay focused.
"Velencians should not be violent toward each other."
Hati hadn't noticed the black appearing—not until Skoll literally pointed it out. He'd glanced down and then immediately suppressed his horror. He had no time to freak out. He needed to go with his sister and girlfriend and get the hell out of here.
He let Skoll grab his hand and take him along, and together they picked up Asmodeus and ran. At least this spot seemed relatively safe.
Even if it wasn't from the Chaos creeping in. God, he wanted to throw up. He felt completely trashed, not just physically, but in his soul. His hair—oh, he could see his hair, and he wasn't looking in a mirror.
Well, that wasn't good.
"No," he growled under his breath, pushing it back from his face, ********, no, he wouldn't let this happen.
He fought for the White Moon, and he would die for the White Moon. He would never be a tool in Metallia's hands.
"We need to stop this. Those generators—the central thingie—we gotta take it out," he panted.
Page Slidr of Mercury HP: 6[50 - 5(Generator) - 16(Lavendulan) - 23(Lavendulan)] Action: Summoning his personal item to defend himself against Laven Damage: 3(base) + 3(rank) +1(personal Item non-knight magic) Location: B2
With a Half-Youma Captain hot on his heels, Slidr used his parkour skills to dodge and jump over obstacles in his way. Having already broken on him once this evening the fiberoptic icicle cane held tightly in his hand was dismissed and in its place were the two swords he had painstakingly dug out from under his wonders frozen river.
He had thought by carrying them, they might make him look more intimidating but seemed he’d have a use for them yet. It was a risk, but given the current situation, his choices were limited.
Still secured in their sheathes by an ever-cold enchantment, the weight of the blades was unfamiliar and he could feel both hands begin to freeze as he held onto their hilts. Suddenly the Page of Mercury slid to a stop, pivoted on one heel, and brought one weapon up to block an attack, and swung low with the other.
She was there, a wild look in her ice-blue eyes, claws extended. The half-youma ducked beneath his first sword and stopped the other swing effortlessly with her other hand, sharp-pointed nails digging into the sheath.
These Personal Items were approved for plot purposes in 2015 Swords: x2 swords Magic from having spent centuries beneath the frozen river has imbued the blades with ever-cold. No matter what environment he finds himself in, they will always feel cold to the touch; even if he were to visit Uranus.
As a knight he will never be able to open it or wield the blades. They are nothing more than decoration to make him look more intimidating than anything. He can summon or resummon it at will. If he tries to use it, sheathed, against anyone the enchant sealing it will begin to freeze his hands with a very nasty frostbite that will travel quickly up to his elbows till he drops or desummons it.
For a Page, the strength of his swing was definitely jarring. However, Lavendulan paid his parry little mind, ducking beneath it effortlessly, and threw herself into the attack.
Despite her petite size, or perhaps because of it, Laven slipped in past his defense in a fluid motion without the need of her water form and raked her claws across his chest then dug them into his shoulder. Blood bloomed where her fingers sank into soft flesh and she smiled, feeling invigorated by the surge of chaos energy flowing from the nearby generator.
She twisted the one sword from his weakened grasp and dropped it to the ground beside them. Could have used it instead, but she hadn’t needed a weapon before; best not to tempt fate by using something unfamiliar to her.
Tried that once in a spar and that did not end well.
The Page fell to one knee, his weight supported only by the remaining sword he still held on to. Lavendulan’s lips pulled into a wicked grin, marveling at the blood that coated her claws, smeared across her face and arm, and stained a part of the blue on her uniform a deep crimson red. Wondered, if only to herself, whether or not Wolframite would have been proud of her for this. For finally giving in to her youma desires and feral needs.
“Lopezite did suggest I find myself a Lieutenant,” she all but purred as she hooked a finger beneath his chin, lifted his gaze to look up at her. Eyes dulled by growing despair, one arm hanging limply at his side. The uniform he wore seemed to change and while Lavendulan should have been appalled by the idea of a forceful corruption as it mirrored what had happened to her, she instead leaned towards him, pressing her scaled cheek against his and whispered “Perhaps once this is over, you’ll be mine.”
The scent in the air seemed to shift then, from the thick smell of iron to something akin to a foul sludge-like aroma. It made her lip curl in disgust but otherwise paid it no mind. However, seeing other officers and corrupts turn their attacks on the generator did cause enough of a distraction to leave her feeling conflicted.
Protect the generators, subdue the White Moon Senshi and their Knights. Simple enough orders, so why the ******** were they doing exactly the opposite? Should she ---
Quote:
Sorry Lav. Not this one either, need to keep looking elsewhere. The generator is about to blow up so stopping it here.
Shanyume
Anxious Friend
Offline
Seiana_ZI
Codebreaking Conversationalist
Offline
Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2021 11:36 pm
Transcendent Eternal Encke HP: 75/100 Action: bit hurt by Oberon, but keeping focused! Damage: -- Location: D4
The console had made a satisfying noise when his magic hit it, but it was the words near him that caught his attention.
"The starseed was what I went for," Encke's attention was focused on the console, but it was hard to miss Oberon's anger for his friend. It felt personal. Stabbed. He could see the way the uniform fluxed in grey and knew there was no point in growing angry with him. Wouldn't be what Caedus wanted. "My magic didn't even distract him, his hand closed around the starseed, and I still ended up blown back."
Focus.
"We can't get to it."
But perhaps someone else could. He looked toward the fellow people of his own species pleading with Lyndin.
He hoped, sincerely, that it would work.
... Though lifting Caedus and effectively borrowing his hand was certainly a thought. He was curious.
Guine
small reaction post to Oberon and Sessrumnir!
stari_maga
Pendour for prox
Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2021 11:41 pm
Tikal, Page of Ganymede HP: -21/50 Action: seething Damage: 1d10 + 3 + 1 = seething DMG Location: on the ground in F2, where she's seething
As Albite stepped over her, Tikal could only think one thing.
If she could stand, she would rip him, limb from limb, molecule from molecule.
Youma Iolanthe HP: 40 / 50 Action: Being utterly distracted by Hatsya, several royal crystals and the influx of Chaos, then attacking a morsel of a Jupiter Page Damage: 6 (1d10 roll) + 5 (Rank) + 5 (Magic 1/3 uses) = 16 Location: B2
Hatsya shouldn't have been so nervous about being replaced. Iolanthe would never want to replace such a wonderful person, who could silence enemies with a word. It was magnificent, and a great addition to Prehnite's strengths. If they were not in the middle of a mission, she would have offered to braid Hatsya's hair. As it was, she was distracted from the corrupt by something tearing into her. She hissed as one of her roses and vines was ripped from her skin by one of the pesky pieces of dinner in front of her, and went to return the favor ten fold, when Prehnite triggered the generator's burst.
Such a good Captain he was.
She plucked another rose off of her body, from where it had regrown from the first one, as the most delicious draw of power snapped her eyes to the center of the chaos. Iolanthe could not see it, could not really understand what was going on around it, or because of it, but she could feel it. Strong and volatile and absolutely dripping in power. Slowly, ever so slowly, she started to stalk towards it, needing to consume it, needing it to dwell within her body and fuel her.
Another flare of energy snapped her attention to the far generator where she could feel a bright radianting source of light that she most definately wanted to eat and destroy. Then another, far closer to the center console.
A wash of Chaos flooded through her and into her and Iolanthe let out a groan at the feeling. Eyes bright and glowing, she felt stronger and more centered.
Centered on the sudden influx of Order within her area, and attacking the generator around her. Iolanthe bared her teeth, sharp and white, and crystalized the rose in her hands.
"Feel the rose among the thorns, little page," she snarled, voice smooth as silk and as deadly as venom. She blew gently the blossom, shattering it into pieces.
Pieces which flew straight towards a page of Jupiter (Loki).
Shanyume
Iolanthe loves you Hatsya, let her braid it for you
