Dust to Dust: A W2B Spinoff

Upheaval - Reception

With Riko taking her place by Ragnelle's side, it was easy for the ingrained snap in Benkei's spine to follow his lithe master. Cutting easily through the crowd in his polished Valoran plate, he took his place by Wayne's side, the Banner hefted in two hands.

Right in the nick of time, as their assailant made for them, stance aggressive and aiming to run his master's brother-in-law through.

It might have worked, were the bodyguard been unmanned by the sudden deadly shower from the Mantle lines. But Benkei had been born in battles just as bad. The huge man dropped into a counter-stance and beside Wayne, like the lightning storm, intercepted the spear-wielding attacker.

There was no hesitation. The towering Vacu knew what ha to be done as he aimed for the miniscule gap where the helm could not protect the neck.

Deciphering The Invasion

So it wasn't just a simple act of terror or even a rowdy band of marauders Mantle could dismiss as "outside their jurisdiction". The last thing they needed at the moment was a war.

And one that has stricken from out of nowhere, at that. True, the tensions between Vale and Mantle were already bad as-is, but Benedict hoped people can be intelligent for once and do not strive to violence.

"Death indeed." He muttered dejectedly when Mantle warriors came upon them as the pages of his grimoire stopped turning. "Terre élance." The floor between them and the invading force cracked and broke apart as pillars of stone and soil rose from below, all sharpened with deadly precision to impale any hapless warriors that didn't stop too soon. At the same time they were thick and solid, a wall made to deter the opposition from chasing.

"There's little time, Galatine." Normally he would probably be polite enough to go for another "Your Highness", but Benedict's mood was already soured by earlier troubles with racism, troubles - as it dawned on him - inflicted by the men now leading the attack. "'tis no occassion for heroics." Already was his tome opened again as it searched for more incantations alongside with Remington's keen sight upon any sights of aggression.

edited 25th Jul '16 2:42:34 AM by FergardStratoavis

Ragnelle smirked, trusting Riko with her back. That was the way it should be. Her comrades protected her, and she protected her comrades.

Time to show these dumb fucks just who they were messing with.

She concentrated inwards, reaching for the Dust in her body. Her eyes began to glow.

And a tornado of flame began to spread outward from where she was.

Galatine's response was to grab a poor sod by the head and crush him like a grape with his armored hands.

"I understand your worries, Benedict Remington. But these insects are a lot more dangerous to you than they are to me."

"....And never address me so familiarly ever again."

Party Crashing

As soon as the shots began to ring out, Yuzuki quickly took cover in the embrace of Dynamo's sheilded, hulking metal arms. Trying her best to ingnore the noise of objects ricocheting off the hulks armor and formulate a plan, her and the hulk remained in a motionless defenive possition, until she finaly came up with one.

The first order of buisness was to open up all the valves that had been holding in the machines exaust while around others, and with a quick wave of her left hand discharghing the lightning dust, this was done, a massive wave of black smoke eminated fro dynamos exaust stacks, flooding the nearby area with choaking noxious soot.

Then as quickly as the machine was able to move, it lifted her up in its titananic grip, and lined her up with a nearby treeline, before with a motion of her hand, followed by a motion of its and a massive wave of steam dynamo threw her too the treeline, where she landed and took to the canopies continuign to observe the battlefeild while Dynamo remained.

Nonie instantly to the air in fright, trying her hardest to get her distance from the attackers. Once she had enough distance from the attackers she fired back on them with lightning Dust.

Welcome back to my house!

Reception Area, Upheaval

Without going too deep into the details, the initial proceedings favored the gatecrashers, who seemed to be a veteran company armed and trained very professionally, all garbed in thick foul-weather cloaks. The defenders, everyone engaging them, had to deal with not only fleeing guests getting in the way, but even the very terrain, blocked by furnishings, the beginnings of pillars and the like, as well as those too paralyzed with fear and indecision to move.

No one knew how they got there in the first place, but they and the reality of their weapons were there now, forming up into squares and making for the center, slaying and wounding as they went.

The squares were deceptively fluid and difficult to pierce. Armored warriors formed the sides of the square, tower shields facing outward while they bristled with pikes. In their centers, the marksmen were able to load and fire their weaponry with impunity. Already the tips of the pikes were crimson, though the attackers themselves were silent.

Much to his consternation, Galatine's household guard formed around their king and Benedict, a shining wall of steel and valor. But the strange weaponry wielded by the attackers was whittling them apart. Men who had served him since the start of his reign, ignobly cut down even as the largest square engaged, grey iron slashing into Valoran plate.

Something had caught fire, maybe a dress or a tablecloth.

Lightning Dust slammed into one of these squares and disintegrated a corner. Nonie was instantly beset by a volley of whistling projectiles. The lightning did finally reveal what lay underneath the hood, which seemed to be variations of some mythic beast from a child's nightmare.

In their various areas, Sanfar, Arrluk, and Sienna watched as the intruders only set their shoulders and tightened their ranks, slamming into their genius with sheer machine doggedness. Fevrier's projectiles and many of those with wide attack arcs created openings, but they reformed their ranks far too quickly.

The eight-foot-tall warrior threw his antler-crowned hood down over his head and from his back, drew a falchion large as the young knight errant's thigh and a multi-headed flail with heads roughly the size of hams. He parried Gerhart's blade away with his own and pushed back explosively before a swing wrapped the thongs 'round Ulric's flamberge.

More projectiles whickered off Angela's shield, the light revealing the mad artistry of the helms even as they jabbed at her with pikes.

And always the whistling bang of these new weapons the acrid unfamiliar stench of Dust fired different, projectiles cutting down guards and bystanders alike.

Still they advanced, stomping the dead and their finery into the dust as they closed toward the King.

edited 2nd Dec '16 11:18:12 PM by KR_Vandal

Glorious battle

Staggering back a fair few feet and taking a fair share of the blow's force on his shield, Gerhart quickly rallied to his knight's side just as Ulric's sword became tangled. Gritting his teeth as he struggled to free his trusty Flamberge, Ulric chuckled to himself before saying "I doubt a bastard with a skull as thick as yours would know this, but they call blades like mine flame-bladed for a reason." Silently activating his semblance, Ulric began heating the blade of his sword, the flamberge slowly beginning to glow orange as he struggled against the flail.

Meanwhile, Gerhart would charge in with his shield raised, aiming to bash and tackle the giant to the ground with a leaping shield bash.

The Black Knight

Sanfar snarled as she placed herself in front of the advancing soldiers, she shot a look back at her charge and grinned before shouldering on, the flaming tornado at her back. There was confusion in the air. And Hate. And anger, fear, sadness. She could feel it all as her semblance burned in her body, filling her with a dread power she had come to love over her many years. Her grin widened beneath her helm as she launched out a fearsome blow at the nearby soldiers, the blade crumpling shields and armor as she lashed out.

Angela pulled out another pair of knives and quickly primed them. In a break in the spear rhythm she through the knives underhand at the enemies in front of her before joking to one said and dashing at the gunners.

Benedict, Bookspelling

An incantation after an incantation, the white-haired archeologist did his best to hold back the incoming waves of Mantle assault. His earlier efforts had brought some fruit, but this wasn't enough.

He caught sight of an enemy, too close to throw spells at. His whip cracked, the tip smashing right into the man's face and sending him back with what looked like a nasty wound. "Fall back!" He commandeered to what remained of his foolish king's guard and, with a snap of another page, the palisade of ice protruded from the ground, holding the assault in place for a bit. "Curses... Galatine, by seven graces, you would do well to reconsider falling back." He called over to the stubborn king. "They are here for you, it seems. If you visibly retreat, there is a chance they will give chase. We can spare some lives that way."