I have no special tricks to offer... yet. Beruka gives Joker a glance, and he shrugs. It wasn't his fault if she didn't really have anything unusual to give out, considering she decided to go and partake in a fight right after getting her powers.
Still, it was a good way to test her strength and speed. As Beruka got into her fighting stance after entering the ring, she decided to go and extend her right arm forwards, with all her fingers curled towards the palm of her hand, all being held together at about equal height on top of that. Her other hand is kept next to her left hip, with Beruka leaning forward instead of outwards.
Hm.
The hand was mostly a way for Beruka to keep track of her foe and his movements. By keeping it on his position, she could notice movements he'd make. And adjust accordingly while she prepared her move. She was stronger. She couldn't feel it as much as she could tell it. And she needed to exploit that. Not quite throw away all cautions to the wind but act boldly and expect to be able to pull off feats that would be impossible for her to even imagine.
Of course, there were still things beyond her ability. But she needed to be ambitious. She wasn't weak anymore.
If uninterrupted, Beruka pulls her hand back in a quick motion and then thrusts it forward again nigh-instantaneously, basically slapping the air the way of her foe, looking to strike him in the chest with a shockwave of all things. The air snaps as the projectile travels at a quick speed across the ring, a sharp whistle accompanying its journey towards someone's face.
She herself seems surprised at her manoeuver, glancing back at her hand and smirking slightly.
Nautolan picture belongs to Bonesmarinated on twitter"Ah, for Lugh's sake!"
Wrenching the Dagda's Fury out of the ground, Robyn barely manages to parry the Wind Caller's claw before the ensuing wind blades sending her crashing into a nearby rock.
"Damn it," the Irish demigoddess snarls, sheathing her sword and putting the recharging Eye of Balor around her neck once again. "Dunno what that giant-arse metal thing's supposed to be, but as long we're breakin' out surprises..."
Leaping to her feet, the crimson-haired Celt suddenly belts out a roar worthy of Kratos himself while unleashing a sizable burst of emerald-colored power from her body. Now cloaked in an aura as green as the plains of her homeland, Robyn's glowing eyes immediately focus on the Wind Caller. She takes a running leap, springboards off of the newly-summoned Gundam's leg, and attempts to deliver a mighty elbow drop to the Wind Caller's cranium. Should her ploy prove successful, she'll follow up by moving to grab onto one of his horns with one hand, then making a fist with the other in order to repeatedly hammer away at the Wind Caller's head with one furious punch after the other.
-
"Yeah, we might've run into these rude people and kicked their asses before they could screw up our whole mission," Nicole replies, struggling back up. "Anyway, you catch your breath, alright? I've got a fight to rejoin."
Taking off like a bullet, Nicole soars back into the action just in time to notice Reyna summoning a Gundam.
"Where, when, and how in the hell did she get her hands on a crazy-ass mech like that? Whatever, she's probably gonna explain everything once we're done here."
Not to be outdone, she actives Torrential Roar and sends the ensuing humongous mass of water crashing towards the Wind Caller.
Edited by IchigoMontoya on Mar 4th 2024 at 5:24:48 AM
Intrigue
Hearing what Sarah and Artemis and Pampín have to say, Anne laughs at their questions, stopping suddenly with a flash of realization that, perhaps, that might be a little dismissive of her.
"It will take more than just courage to make a sword fearless," she corrects, "The most important part is that the sword needs to carry a powerful will. So, not like, literally having a spirit possessing it, though that would definitely help, I mean more... metaphorically."
She pauses, putting her hand on her chin for a half-second think, pulling her hand away to snap her fingers like "eureka!"
"Like, its symbolic meaning. More than just the value you assign to it, but the extent of the ways that the weapon has changed the world, and made it a less stagnant place. I don't think your fists would count as a fearless sword... but oppose enough Moebius, and who knows?"
Anne shrugs, "If I knew exactly what made a weapon fearless, I'd just say it. But I'm pretty sure it's not an exact science. I mean, I'm just saying what Angel's told me, so..."
She'd shrug again, but there wouldn't be much point to that.
Hub Centralis
Glimmer is probably about to say something to Artemis and the other, mysterious fellow on their way out, but a loud sound interrupts her, and puts a look on her face like she's just bit down on something crunchy while eating something soft.
It's an electric guitar being played over what must be quite the speaker, and not too far from here either.
"I-"
Another note, as loud as the last one.
"Alright, what the hell?"
Yatta!Vandalon
"Right."
Lute and Phillip follow, with Merga taking the rear.
They're silent, more listening for possible threats than anything.
Intrigue
"-hmm. Well, not this one then."
She stows the oversized blade, before pulling out a plain-looking black blade, looking not unlike a shaped shard of onyx.
"...I haven't used this in ages, but it bears the marks of a fight that changed a world. Many worlds, actually. That was 40 years or so ago now, though."
Had she still had her System magic, that may have counted too, but it's gone now.
Hub Centralis
>electric guitar
"-aw, c'mon. I was enjoying my own music."
From what speaker system, Artemis? Do you just magically produce sound for yourself?
(the answer is yes)
She looks over to try and discern the source of the sound, sweeping her aura over the area to see without actually seeing.
Can't even catch a break anymore, can I? Oh well.
Jumanji
"Fire..? We're in a wooden library, do you realize how that could go wrong?!"
Sam quickly scrambles to her feet once she's freed, though she at least does have the wit to nod as thanks to Gravia afterward.
"-besides, the kid's in there!"
Sam reloads her revolver with a speedloader, taking aim at Van Pelt. Again. Six shots and an emptying of the clip later, two more dice fall from her revolver. How.
3 + 1
You're almost there,
With much at stake;
But now the ground
Begins to shake.
The entire room begins to shake- knocking over bookcases and threatening to trip everyone (but mostly Sam). Sam dives to the ground, riding it out by laying flat and away from tall shelves.
20/35 (Sam)
aeiou: the secondLeviathan, Dojo
Luin was quick as she grabbed hold of the Sirensong Namielle; the juvenile Elder wasting no time as it slipped out of the cave and into the open bay, gliding almost effortlessly across the surface of the water at a speed that put jetskis to shame. Morag and his companion assumedly followed after, though perhaps they’d spot a very distant black object in the sky behind them.
As Hangman’s Cove grew smaller behind them, and the marble pillars of Tidefall’s buildings grew on the horizon before them, the sun glimmered against the white towers ahead. It was a beautiful end to a productive day, but Luin had no intention of enjoying it. All her thoughts, all her fears, were turned to and centered upon the creature a distance behind them, one they had just barely given the slip.
She shuddered to think what might’ve happened had the Annihilation Nergigante caught them.
——
Cardell angled his side towards Beruka, raising his dukes and steadily crawlimg closer to her. His eyes, ravenous for battle, kept a locked gaze upon the woman as he crept in a half-circle around her, waiting for her to come close and create an opening for him as he watched from between his fists.
So, one can imagine the surprise he felt upon being hit in the chest by an unseen force—the mere shockwave of the woman’s punch. He stumbled backwards against the rope, was still for a moment as the gi’s fabric settled on his chest where he was hit…and gave a hearty laugh.
"That…I’ll give you that, I did not expect that!" He regarded, his tone gradually subsiding from glee and returning to normal. Once the chuckles and laughs had faded he kept moving, always watching Beruka for a chance, always coming closer…
And then, he stopped.
"Pop quiz, students." He said to the spectators, never once breaking eye contact with Beruka. "Who can tell me who the Champion is?"
One student’s voice spoke up, to break the ensuing silence. He spoke with a strange mix between sure and uncertain, as though confident in his knowledge but not in his answer: "Our idol, teacher?"
"Yes," Cardell had resumed his tiny hops around Beruka, though maintained the same distance. "But who was he?"
"An…an ordinary man, sir." The same student answered. "Until he manifested his Willpower?"
"That’s right, Joeyy. The Champion was an average human…until the Aetherians attacked, and he became the first Manifest of Willpower…an entirely new power, able to manipulate the world around us to become as we wish it to, that he brought into existence…merely by desiring for it to exist." Cardell elaborated on the student’s answer, serving the purpose of explaining to Beruka and Joker as well. Knowledge was power of course, in this world…and he hoped to spread knowledge of his people, and who they were.
"For many years, he alone stood between mankind and destruction. And then, when he had at last chased the Aetherians and their masters, the Empyreans, back to their realm…he dispersed of his physical form, and his very spirit became engrained in those of certain humans. To us, he granted the ability that allowed him to defeat the undefeatable, endure the unindurable: Willpower."
Cardell leapt forwards at Beruka, as though aiming a wild dropkick at her…before regaining his footing midair and double-hopping over her head. As he came down behind her (assuming he wasn’t intercepted) he’d then direct his momentum into his foot with a spin and a kick aimed at his combatant’s upper back.
With great power…you know the rest.Jax isn't immune to the Terror status, but given the one trying to apply it to him isn't named Fiddlesticks, he manages to resist its effects. The fear he can't resist comes in the instant he's suddenly transported to the much more liminal blackness. As he peruses the nothingness, floating, stewing in mild fear, he takes solace that what surrounds him is certainly not the void.
A lack of purple monsters is about the only difference, but the Grandmaster at Arms swallows his fear the moment the party is returned to the 'real' world, orienting himself. Since he assumes no Pymli is close enough for counterstrike to matter, he activates it early, lowering his lamp back to its neutral stance.
Mana: 910
Intrigue
Ahhh...
Pampín, still with an "I don't understand a damn thing" face.
"...I mean, I changed the world. I am the Sun, after all."
Inti, maybe in the right path, maybe not.
Swords Tournament
Sawdust
...And POP goes the head off.
She respawns at the house just south where she was.
Cardboard
She notices Goemon at the same room where she respawned.
Excuse me, good man... What advice can you give me to... Um... "Get better" in this?
Three freaking ghosts!Beruka smiles slightly at seeing her tactic work and shake her hand. Strong as the punch was, she notices that it moved her as well. A few feet at that. Nothing earth-shaking, but it makes her ponder a little. Though she still listen to his speech anyway, seeing that he was obviously filling her and Joker in on the reasons behind their supernatural might.
Beruka make a few steps forward, fist still pointed his way, her other fist clenched at the hip. Whenever Cardell move, so does she. And as he explains the origin of his power, Beruka consider what she could do. Given his odd powers, it was best to let him act first, she thought. He was ready for anything else she could throw at him by that point, so it was better to try and catch him while he was in the middle of something.
It was risky - his abilities were diverse and unknown. She should not be giving him the opportunity to use those for anything else but defense. But Beruka thought forcing his hand in attacking could let her see his powers more easily. And as he does jump at her with a surprising dropkick. Beruka hesitates but decide that having Super-Strength makes her able to do this now. This being her reaching out towards Cardell's feet, with the intent to snatch him out of the air.
She unconsciously focus her Cursed Energy into her arms, as Sukuna quietly notes. As she did right before punching : instead of keeping it all around her body at all time, she reflexively knew to focus it on the limbs she was going to use to attack with. It was a good display of control but, sadly, also one that was greatly overshadowed by Cardell's own mastery, the man double-jumping in the air over Beruka.
! Beruka is too taken with her momentum to be able to try and uppercut him out of the air or block. And dodging to the side is hard with her leaning forward, so she decide to run forward instead, hoping to outrun his kick. She succeeds, but barely, feeling a gust of wind "strike" the back of her neck as she propels herself across the ring seemingly almost uncontrollably. What could've been an ungracious but efficient dodge become a full-on sprint, barely fast enough to get her out of the way.
Yet "barely fast" enough to dodge Cardell is fast enough that Beruka struggles with her momentum, the young woman running for more than she should before she spins around. A calculated manoeuver. She bullshits, keeping her face blank while still sliding back, taken by her own momentum again.
Sukuna think about the whole "Aetherian" business in the meantime, head raising slightly to look up at the ceiling. If that wasn't all lies -which he believed not to be the case given what he saw-, then the "Champion" was someone he'd have liked to sink his fangs into. Willpower seemed to be something that could be useful even to him. And he was ironically quite similar to Sukuna's views of the ideal Sorcerer (himself) - ready to throw everything away to fight on. With such wild abandon and disregard for everything else that he could warp reality with it.
Yet, the Champion had thought of others. Something that hadn't slowed him down, but that was certainly slowing down the others, or so Sukuna thought.
Having a "model" or an idol to worship was bad, Sukuna thought. These people would live their whole lives looking up to the Champion but, subconsciously, they'd see him as an unreachable monster, no matter what they'd say. His legacy was too dominant for them to even hope of stepping into his sphere of power. And because they believed it, even if they would not admit it, they lacked the wild abandon that was necessary to get stronger.
Make no mistake, they no doubt strived to become as strong or stronger than he was. But there'd always be a part of them that would see the Champion as stronger than they could ever be - And because of that, they'll be unnoticeable.
Beruka herself doesn't care that much about the Champion in the present. Instead, immediately after ending her sliding backwards, she leans forward on the tip of her feet, smiling despite herself as she once again take off running. Her earlier analysis was a mistake, and if she wanted to get a hang on her powers, she'd need to run around and actually use them.
Running right at Cardell, Beruka does a short jump and slide forward, crouching low to try and dodge an attack preemptively. Then, she attempts to blast Cardell into the ceiling with an explosive uppercut, so strong as to lift herself off the ground by a few feet!
Nautolan picture belongs to Bonesmarinated on twitterLeviathan
Morag does indeed skedaddle out of there with them, instincts recognizing a big boy Elder Dragon approaching. Rumia is mostly confused, though her own youkai instincts pick up on Luin's fear as she looks at the Annie shaped dot in the horizon.
"What was that, miss?" she asks, confused. "You seem scared."
"That was a pointless encounter with a pointless person."Game
Charlie is indeed very bothered this turn, by a lot of factors. She saw a familiar box, wound up back in that unnervingly familiar place, and now that they're closer to the middle of the field, she's stuck in place, as there are things she wants to run from in all directions because of her Terror status.
On the plus side, the Pymli that got off its Shocking Caress is still close enough to be finished off by Counter Strike.
After the warp, there are three Pymlis that now start to charge up Shocking Caress, while the rest start to reposition around them. Victoria instantly kills one of them with Drill Rush.
90/100 Biomass
"Focus on tanking and letting Jax build up strength."
—
Cassie commands Jax to use a basic attack on one of the charging Pymlis and get Grandmaster-of-Arms primed.
Delilah selects 'Pass' for Charlie, skipping her turn while she waits for Terror to wear off.
The Wind Caller
"I said Julius himself couldn't beat the fury I'd unleash if pushed. I'd be bringing this to his doorstep in a heartbeat if I knew where it was."
do not take this as a cue to start searching for Julius' castle after this event
Wyvern Esper is staggered by the full-force retaliation, and the Engage power-up ends. But the biggest threat being stunned doesn't mean Macuil is safe.
"Come on, let's finish this," Legendary Alear tells her past self. "One more Engage."
Past Alear looks at the two rings she has. Both shine with power. She gives Legendary Alear's back to its owner, picks up Libération, then clenches her fist. "With me, Marth."
Engaging with Emblem Marth, she promptly lunges at the Wind Caller to use Lodestar Rush. "Forgive me!"
Six slashes, finishing with a Sword Beam. She's not using Falchion, but at this point, she doesn't need to.
Legendary Alear just watches, still worried about Past Alear.
And finally, Nik. Nik spreads her arms, deep, bassy sounds emanating from her hands like the thrum of a generator. She flies up to the Wind Caller's face and claps them together, making a sonic explosion, sound so powerful it distorts and tears flesh.
"A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."Game
The plan is clear: make sure Jax becomes strong enough to deal with the enemies. Cassidy chooses Swan Flight, trying to see if she can't have Evan permanently remove one of the Pymlis this way.
Grape has Gregory go for Mimic Ball. If Jax ends up getting Grandmaster-of-Arms off, Mimic Ball would launch that attack a second time. Surely that'll be enough to break through the Pymli wall. Besides, Gregory also still has to recover from his current Fear status.
Lastly, Sam tries to go for Form Change to let Victoria switch back to Emma, and if successful will try to make her use Shield Wall. Any sort of barrier that'll help the team tank should be useful, he figures.
The Wind Caller
The Immaculate One tries to attack, but then winces in pain.
"You have overexerted yourself, Seiros! Let the young ones take care of the rest before you end up in a bad state.", Seteth calls out to her. With the Wind Caller near defeat, she feels comfortable enough to transform back into Seiros, having to sit down on the sand, looking exhausted.
"I hope they can win this turn.", Flayn says as she uses Heal to try to help Seiros get back on her feet faster.
"We should, given that I can still assist in one way.", Seiros says, after which she Engages with Lyn. Even if she can barely move at the moment, she can still use her Engage attack immediately.
As the Wind Caller gets elbow'd by Robyn, Seiros launches the Astra Storm arrows into the air.
Counterattack!
Darting Blow!
Desperation!
The Wind Caller is about to strike back before Robyn can move to the second half of her combo attack. However, Astra Storm strikes and interrupts this process, cancelling his counterattack and allowing Robyn to get her punches in.
Countera-
Followed by Torrential Roar striking from the side as well, interrupting the Wind Caller once again, letting Robyn get her final punches in.
Cou-
Lastly, Nik's attack and Past Alear's (and Marth's) Lodestar Rush attacks strike him true.
"GRUAHHHHHH!"
After the final hit, the Wind Caller lets out his pained-sounding scream, recoiling for a bit. He raises his head, weakly trying to stay upright... but then he collapses, making a small tremor that kicks up the sand near him. Seiros, Seteth and Flayn eat a face full of sand as a result, as will anyone else on the ground near them.
The battlefield goes quiet now.
"..."
Seiros, Seteth and Flayn start to look worried.
"He stopped moving... is... is he..."
"... Zzzzzz..."
The soft snoring coming from him puts the three at ease.
"Thank Sothis, he's just asleep. He must have exhausted himself too much before he had a chance to endanger his own life."
"Still, how reckless of him... this could have ended so much more badly for him."
"Phew, if he's okay... oh, what about the treasure?"
"I will procure it. Everyone, catch your breaths and take a well-deserved rest. The fight is over."
Seteth approaches the Wind Caller, who thankfully continues to sleep soundly, and starts searching inbetween the feathers on his back. Seiros lets herself rest a little, and Flayn starts looking around to see if any of her allies need healing.
Lastly, the Immovable finally reaches the party, looking at them.
"Your victory is impressive, given that it sounds you had to deal with more than you were supposed to. While I do not think he will change his mind on aiding you, I believe he will accept that you will use his sword in the battle against those creatures."
"Here it is.", Seteth says, revealing the Sword of Begalta
◊. While it looks a bit more standard, it still shares the same ornate themes as other sacred weapons they've seen so far.
"Eons without use, but it still looks to be in perfect condition. He continued to care for it, even though he never planned to wield it again."
Seteth looks back at the Wind Caller.
"If only we had known just how much you'd been affected by everything that happened. We wouldn't have let it spiral this far."
In the year 202X, all is devastation... Soon, any last shred of hope had by the saintliest optimist shall die and decay.Robyn leaps off of the defeated Wind Caller and lands before the others, both the green aura cloaking her body and glow emitting from her eyes fading as she blows out a relieved sigh.
"Aye... been a while since I really had to use Celtic Wrath like that," she mutters, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck.
Her gaze flickers to the Sword of Begalta.
"All that for a fancy sword. Hope it was worth us beatin' the absolute piss out 'o each other."
-
With the battle finally over, Nicole Disengages and touches down near the rest of the party.
"God, shit must've really friggin' sucked for that guy," she says, glancing at the Wind Caller. "Pity he's probably not gonna rethink his whole 'humans all suck' mindset anytime soon."
Solopost - Artemis
...
Who was she, really?
80 years ago, nobody knew her. Her parents and a few doctors being the only exception. As far as everyone else was concerned, she was completely normal. Artemis, they had named her. Her dad was a hunter- no points for guessing the inspiration on that part.
Her first years of life were normal, sure. Growing up as any kid should. But that's not what this is focusing on.
We're focusing on her power.
At the age of 18, someone had tried to mug her- an easy target, as she was then. He had some tricks with fire. Nothing fancy, probably some half-formed Innate Magic. Artemis, on the other hand, only had what few spells she learned from a self defense class.
...
One lucky magic shot to the head and the man fell. She was mortified- as she should be, over an accidental killing. But an odd sensation flowed through her at that moment.
A burning, crackling feeling. As if fire was hers to control, at will. The same power of the man she killed that day...
Until this point, everyone had assumed Artemis had no Innate Magic. As it turns out, she had one stronger than anyone else at the time- the ability to claim magic from others by killing them. The implication terrified her even more, at first- after all, who would ever want to be a killer?
Artemis, a hunter of mages. Taking the fallen foe's Innate Magic for herself. She also took their capacity for magic- expanding her ability to cast 'normal' spells in the process. She tried to live a normal life, but with great mana, comes more notice from stronger mages. Some saw her as a threat, attempting to kill her... others simply tried to suppress her.
...
"They all burned that day, and I grew ever more powerful."
Artemis is sitting in front of a chained Fallen, her arms crossed.
"You're... no. I don't believe this."
"You should. Though at first, I didn't believe it myself."
...
Of course nobody tried to protect her. Why would they, when killing her was so much easier? With every fallen corpse, Artemis's power grew.
A little more, with each flick of a spell, with each strike of a blade- with each swing of her fist. Her sense of emotion dulled. She wanted to leave- the very world that she grew up knowing, wanting to kill her when they could resolve things peacefully.
One of her Innate Magics. World Barrier. Shattering the very boundary between worlds. She lept into the space between universes. She ended up many places.
She'd fought the very concept of control, made into a devil. She'd fought abominations beyond the bounds of human thought. Gods, monsters, devils... they all fell the same.
...
"Until they didn't."
"-huh?"
Fallen looks up, his face a mixture of confusion and smugness.
"There was one- or rather, a set. The Builder and their cultists."
...
That damned mortal-turned-god that was the Builder. She'd gotten stuck in a world thanks to the System- that world's governing definer for magic and power -being imposed on her, making her nothing more than normal again. She'd had to build up her powers there from nothing. It took her years, and she aged then, not having done so in a while. She had to be cautious, had to be smart.
All while forces from beyond worked to end her, whispers of the power she possessed falling upon keen ears. Their goal was already the remaking of all universes to suit them, but now they had another goal- to control Artemis as their own.
This never did come to fruition. Artemis survived- she even thrived for a while. Enough to escape and hop between worlds again.
...
"Eventually, I came across the Arena. My one shot at beating them back in my limited state. Even now, it could make things easier."
"...you don't even care that you could be pulling this world into a battle they can't fight?"
Artemis chuckles slightly, a dry, mocking sound.
"You haven't seen what the people here can do. God or not, they'll manage to beat the Builder back... with or without my help. As for you, I'm getting tired of your voice..."
"Wait, no-"
Slice.
One clean cut was all it took to end the miserable shadow's life. Artemis felt the darkness flowing into her- she was whole again.
"A blinding light that hides a suffocating darkness. I'm sure that's nothing new for here, but it's certainly useful."
The bubble she had kept up dissolves as she returns to the Arena.
...
Dark.
Light.
They mean nothing, in the end.
Not when a void shall consume both, and make it their own.
This void...
This person...
Good, or evil?
She isn't sure, herself. She's just...
Artemis.
aeiou: the secondSDM
"And I'm not the Meiling any of them knew, either."
"Really? Well, maybe there's a difference between alternate versions of the same world and entire other worlds."
"I get it. Like how none of us naturally exist in this world. It's not a parallel to the worlds we're from, but something else entirely. I can understand why you might want to be cautious, then."
"Uh... Yeah, basically." Sora clearly was not sure on the details himself.
The Wind Caller
"It wasn't worth it," Past Alear exhales. "Not at all."
"Huh?"
She stares down at the ground. "I ventured out to learn about the world and understand myself. What did I learn, what did I learn, what did I learn?"
Then she looks up, a crazed anger in her wide eyes. "I learned that the only way I can be strong is to take strength from others. That I'm worthless on my own! That the only way I can get anywhere is by riding on the shoulders of better men and women!"
Emblem Marth starts to speak. "Alear—"
She rips Marth's ring off her hand and throws it at Legendary Alear. "I don't deserve your compassion! I don't deserve any of this! Father was right—I should just lay down and die! That's all I'm good for on my own!"
Legendary Alear finally understands. She needed to forget everything about Sombron. She wouldn't have had the strength of will to persevere if she was still fully conscious of and carrying around her trauma and emotional baggage. It's because she lost her old identity that she was able to forge a new one. But this version of her still carries the pain and regret.
So how can she help her?
Her thoughts are disrupted by the Wyvern Esper stomping its way over. "Hey," Reyna grunts.
Past Alear looks up.
Reyna puts a hand to her chest, Wyvern Esper matching the motion. "All my power is taken, too. Stolen from my enemies or borrowed from my friends...or loved ones. Using the strength of others doesn't make me a parasite. I use the strength they give me in ways that they can't use themselves."
"Th-that's..."
"That isn't being a parasite, or a pest, or a defect. It's called teamwork, and trust."
Nik's wings retract into her body. "Wait, but when it's stolen from your enemies—"
"That's called being smart."
"A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."KENJAKU and MAHITO ODD MENAGERIE OF EXPERIMENTS EPISODE 1 : DEMENTED SPIRITS
Footage of empty white room begins, as the camera is apparently being fiddled with by an unknown party. Its eventually lowered to a table with a naked bald man on it, hand placed over its crotch for the sake of younger viewers. His face is twisted into agony, his mouth opened inhumanly wide as his blank white eyes stare at a ceiling about as equally pale.
Enter Kenjaku from the side. Hello and welcome to Kenjaku and Mahito's odd menagerie of experiments, dear viewers who will stumble upon this camera! Curious about some of our besties are made? Eager to see the science behind such magic? Anxious about finding weak points? You've come to the right place either way! And if not, well, here's hoping you'll find something else to your liking!
So, starting with this. Why the name Demented? Well, I should leave this to my co-worker - who came up with the term himself! Able-bodied spectators, please stand up and clap for Maaaaaaa HITO!!!!!!!! Enter Mahito, who slide in from the left. Kenjaku steps back but doesn't leave the camera, keeping his face in a corner of the screen to show his reactions to what Mahito has to say.
Thank you, thank you! The science behind Demented Spirits isn't all that hard to understand but it'll require some key details, so listen well, hm? To begin with, what make us who we are? Why do we form bias, why do we form fears, why do we form traumatisms, why do we know basic facts like "fire burns"? You could say it's experience or skill, but almost nothing is inherent to a mortal. What define them are their memories!
Mahito leans forward, running his fingers up the naked torso of the man methodically, slowly. Of course, that isn't a fact in some people. But to most? Strip them of their memories, and they'll be helpless babies! It's through memories that we remember experiences and shape our personality and remember our skills. The fiercest warrior, the most devoted priest, the cruelest dictator - they've all built that up through their memories.
But memories are far from perfect nonetheless, when so much of us is built upon them. As time goes, faces fade, details are forgotten and important things are left to be a blur. We do not remember where or when that happened. And in some cases, there's no need for time to sweep by. We've all forgotten someone's named within minutes of learning it, haven't we? Or a key step in something, even when you've spent all morning repeating the steps to yourself!
Haha, that hasn't happened to me; no.
Mahito politely ignores Kenjaku. But the worst about memories is that they're often so rose-colored. Object, people, places, eras, all become the best versions of themselves through the passage of time. And we so often forget their uglier aspects... And sometimes, the opposite happen : we remember only the drearest memories of a time or place, such that we dare not associate that place with any happy memory.
Personally, I find the former to be most pathetic. Lord Gor doesn't want people who are too busy staring back at the road before to look at the wall ahead of them. So I've came up with a little device to help people get a good look at their memories. And that's where the Demented Spirit come in! Mahito roll his arm about and, from out of nowhere, a small black orb appear in the palm of his hand.
He roll it all along the back and palm of his hand and then dunk it right into the man's face, with enough force to make the corpse bounce on the table. To be more precise, he slams it right into its mouth, breaking quite a few teeth along the way.
By using my powers on somebody's memories, I can take a specific memory -Here, I took a person- And I make a "copy" of it I extract from their memories. See this orb? Mahito hold up the orb, turning it in his hand and holding it up.It's a person. If I had to name it, I'd call it a "Memorlye". Then, using my Idle Transfiguration, I fuse this Memorlye with this guinea pig's soul, and...
The body on the table start to convulse and shake, as their flesh start changing. From out of nowhere, clothes start forming to cover up their previous nudity. It doesn't appear on the skin so much as it grows out of it, appearing as the person's twist and body swirls into a chaotic mess. Their hair, facial features, even the size of their head completly change in accordance with what's been "injected".
And eventually, the former man stands up on the table as a generic fantasy Berserker. He displays no signs of confusion about his whereabouts, robotically moving off the table.
Ooohhh.
When I snap my fingers, the Demented Spirit will have everything the original "owner" of the Memorlye think it had to start with, along with general knowledge they think they had. They'll act as the original owner remember they did. They'll be stronger or weaker than they truly are based on the person's memories too! They might not have certain abilities they have, simply because their actual selves hid them from the Memorlye's owner.
But they've got the abilities of the original body I had them hijacked! And that body's own memories too. This mean that, if the body they're inhabiting has certain abilities or knowledge, they can replicate it now. Sadly, there's a possible issue - the body and soul's battle for ownership is... complicated. Most of the time, it results in the Memorly being aware its a brand new being, other times... The berserker's body convulse and start breaking down, black goo leaking from his orifices as his two arms set themselves on fire, with one of his legs growing much smaller and his other leg simply disappearing, briefly leaving him as a flaming torso before he simply explode into gore.
Gore which Kenjaku shields the camera from, briefly blocking it from view and grunting.
By the time the camera is deemed safe by Kenjaku, Mahito stands grinning over the remains.
Everyone's soul is shaped the same though - and the body is just flesh waiting to be commanded. But some flesh is... ah, "tougher" than others and can influence the twisted soul that commands it, giving the Memorlye aspects of its host. It's pretty fascinating to watch - left alone, they'll often become a different being than either of what they were in the past!
Ideally, a Memorly should be alone in a body its occupying. Of all my test subjects, only one has been able to bear two memorlies within itself. The rest tend to be sadly prone to random meat explosions or outright catatonism.
And let's not forget - there are beings with bodies that can influence the soul more easily than others. Like bodies of esoteric material. Perhaps because they were already quite paranormal to start with? Kenjaku says on the side, nodding up and down at his own theories.
What you need to remember is that Demented Spirits are unpredictable. They're walking memories put into a body of flesh. Acting as they were remembered than how they truly were. With different powers and the ability to evolve past who they were. If you see a Memorly of someone you know, be careful - you might be shocked by how you've remembered them. Or is it that they've been put into a different body?
Mahito smiles, cocking an eyebrow and tilting his head to the side. I pull memories with input from the subconscious. Maybe that Memorly isn't attacking you because it's been put into a hostile beast's body or because I ordered it - Maybe you've secretly hated them all along and thought they were out to kill you. Maybe you never trusted their smiles, their friendly greetings and sacrifices.
Maybe you hate that person you've always said you've loved. Mahito smiles, peering into the camera. Maybe there's nothing wrong with the memorlye and it's actually quite accurate to what you thought of them.
How'd you remember?
Well! Kenjaku snatch the camera again, Mahito briefly pouting as he leaves the screen -or vice-versa-. That was fun! We've hope you've enjoyed our program because we'll have some more episodes coming your way. For instance : The true nature of Ketheric Thorm! But before we go, I'd have one last question - Why Demented Spirits?
It sounds like "Dementia". I think its quite funny.
Nautolan picture belongs to Bonesmarinated on twitterHub Centralis
The blades descend, but before it can crash and slash, Kado's force slow manages to successfully slow down one of the blades, allowing him to rush forward and slash at the behemoth of steel. A lightsaber might deal relatively miniscule damage but it can chip away at the blade!
MG EXCELSUS 91.2%
Force slow isn't enough to stop it completely, the blades' come together body to body and turn over to the side — tall enough to match Vincent's height — intending to sweep and slice back and forth its full range of motion, hoping to somehow hit Kado.
Hacking EXCELSUS is clever — and effective at weakening its output (so if Kado's hit, it wouldn't hurt as badly). The plasma cannon strikes its body, the entire mech shrieks loudly upon the explosion's impact. In the plume of smoke it leaves are two glowing balls of light aimed for Vincent.
On the other end of that hacking attempt is the voice of a political strongman, only referred to as "Senator Armstrong". It angrily groans before the connection is severed again by a high spike of energy disrupting its own comms systems.
QUIT BEING A PANSY FIGHT LIKE A MAN
MG EXCELSUS 84.5%
Despite it being in response to the hacking, it can also target Monica as EXCELSUS starts aiming and drawing a line of plasma across the buildings Vincent is running atop to make them collapse before she can jump and get onto a blindspot of the mech. With the speed of the plasma beam, it causes multiple buildings to fall and topple over like a domino.
Edited by BoniniBanana on Mar 5th 2024 at 10:43:18 PM
realLeviathan, Dojo, Jumanji, Vandalon IV
"It’s…complicated," Luin shouted up to Rumia as the Namielle hopped and skipped along the water’s surface, sea-spray blowing into Luin’s face before she remembered to lift the cloth bandana over her face and lower the goggles upon her eyes. Her words were miraculously carried up to the Flying Wyvern above over the wind by some combination of narrative magic and arena bullshittery. "That’s a creature called Annihilation Nergigante…bad news. It’s very, very bad news for anyone near here, and not the sort of beast I ever want to see again."
There was more, of course. How it had always seem to target her above all else, make her life a living hell, for no real reason. How it had destroyed her village, slain her family…Luin gritted her teeth and said no more of the subject as they arrived back to the docks of Tidefall.
Upon ramparts in the city and various stone watchtowers protruding from the waves, Luin saw sunlight gleam off the metal tips of ballista bolts aimed at her new tame and Morag both.
"Don’t shoot!" A cry sounded out, from a man on the wooden docks. Beside him stood a sailor, the very same that had sent Luin on this errand. "For the love of the First Dragon, do not shoot!" He seemed to wear military attire, but was clearly of a high ranking.
——
"Of course," Cardell responded jokingly to Beruka’s “calculated maneuver” comment, a not-so-subtle cover-up of her own clumsiness. She was untrained in her own strength, Cardell could plainly see. He resolved not to go easy on her, but to not attack with an ability or a barrage of blows that she may not be ready to avoid; he’d come at her as he would any foe, though he’d make sure to specifically make use of powers that Beruka could find openings for counters in, and further her understanding of her ability through the experience.
The woman was no student of his, but that didn’t change the fact that Cardell was still a teacher.
After his whiffed kick, he sunk his foot upon the ground and slowly dragged it behind him. The tip of it pointed outwards as he got into a lowered position, fingers lowered and so near to the mat that they came a mere few inches away from contact. The man’s eyes tracked Beruka as she ran forwards, before springing into action. He reared his arm back and swung it forwards in a chop…only to find, with a hint of interest and surprise, that Beruka had anticipated an attack already. The woman slid beneath it and, next thing he knew, Cardell was a solid five or so feet in the air, with an aching pain afflicting his jaw.
Huh.
The man was caught off-guard by her attack, but he was quick to get back into the rhythm. Angling his body heels over head, he rebounded off the air itself and back towards the ground, slamming a fist down at Beruka (though one that was quite easy to avoid). Assuming she did avoid the counter, Cardell would rise from his knees to his feet and hop backwards a bit as he continued his lesson. "Who can tell me what happened next?" There was a moment of hesitation before another student spoke up.
"The Children of Man were formed, sir."
"Indeed we were. Our founders came together based off the belief that since the Champion was gone, his role would need to be taken up by others. We became the shield that guarded man, and the blade that offered swift and deadly retribution in the Champion’s name. The Empyrean threat was repelled, but that didn’t mean there were others that besieged humanity. The Hellspawn, for one—what was that army called?"
"The Archzyn Dynasty, right?" Another student offered, and Cardell smiled. He feinted at Beruka to make sure her head was still in the fight, falling back immediately afterwards rather than following it up with an attack.
"Very good. They assaulted the realms of humanity, as did the Frost Giants, the Cult of Ruination, the Wretched Souls, Those Who Remain, and, perhaps the biggest of them all…"
"The Fomorians, sir."
"Yes, Tyron…the Fomorians. Slaves of stone created by the Atlanteans…until their freedom was offered to them by the being we later came to know as the Rogue God. From the oceans they came, plundering and razing cities. After a long and violent war, the Children of Man at last forced the Fomorians into a retreat to Sheol, the sea beneath the sea. But rather than leave things be, we chased after them. This is how we arrived in the Arena."
Now, Cardell lunged at Beruka with his arms spread. He attempted to grab her by the shoulders and throw her into the air, before then following up with a grapple at her ankles if the initial attack was successful and slam her back down onto the mat.
——
"Ohhhhh fuck." Luin grunted in a strange mix of fear and shock, looking down at the foot that was no more. She took her turn quickest of all, eager to avoid the fate of utter atomic disintegration.
6+2
Her piece hopped ahead eight spaces and Luin’s hand shot for a card, drawing the top off the deck: Quick on their feet, Covered in stripes, It's a thundering herd Cloaked in black and white. As Luin read the words, a zebra suddenly exploded into the room from the library’s door, knocking Luin from her seat and trampling her underfoot…and another…and another..
——
"So," Mordran began, sparing a backwards glance at the unconscious Thorsig in his metal litter. "Where’d you find him? Last I saw him he was leaving on a suicide mission, about…damn, six, seven years ago?"
Edited by ISZATSO on Mar 5th 2024 at 11:15:07 AM
With great power…you know the rest.Hub Centralis - Excelsus
I'm a digital mind, so technically I don't have a gender, but okay.
Croque says to nobody in particular, adjusting herself in the seat.
The Apocalypse Rail is ready, Croque.
Oh, goodie. Let's do some damage.
Hunkering down fully, Operation Shutout points its giant main gun forward.
KzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZ
The fully spooled Apocalypse Rail fires, launching an overcharged projectile at MG Excelsus. When it impacts, it explodes in quite the show of energy- Enough to possibly engulf the whole Metal Gear.
I did say this was a ship-to-ship weapon.
Vandalon
"He was stored away on a derelict ship. It was infested with bugs... well, until he woke up, that is."
She taps on her PDA a bit.
"Still got the docking logs for the ship, if you want to know anything about that."
Phillip, for once, stays silent, seeing as how he's not the one who found Thorsig.
Edited by RainbyPlays on Mar 5th 2024 at 11:21:07 AM
aeiou: the secondMordran seemed to find great humor in Lute’s use of the word “was”. "Heh. Always was a crazy son of a bitch, that one. The day I met him he was coated in blood, armor and weapons broken, out of ammo, and standing on a mountain of corpses. Most soldiers would’ve just retreated at that point. Not him. I saw him tearing Tyranids in half with his bare hands, and when his bare hands were restrained, he started kicking ‘em. And when his legs were blistered and broken beyond use, he started biting ‘em apart." Mordran shook his helmed head in nostalgic reflection, allowing a few more moments to go by before he talked again, albeit speaking of a different subject now.
"Ain’t my place to ask, but…what’s your story? Not every day you see a winged man, and your armor is…unique. Ain’t seen anything else that looks like it in the Imperium."
With great power…you know the rest.SDM
"Is that so?" she asked, tilting her head at them.
So nanoka Counter: 7
She still didn't really get why you had to hide that, but maybe they're just being weird.
"So... do you think that um, friend of yours could help me train?" Rumia asks, referring to that other guy who apparently mastered their dark side.
It was an Elder Dragon not a Leviathan actually
"I see." Rumia hummed. She might not be the smartest person she know but she could tell this lady and that monster had some kind of history. Probably not the first time she's run away from it. She doesn't say anything else on the matter, simply hanging on to Morag until they reached the docks.
Seeing as they weren't being shot, Morag would touch down in a surprisingly graceful manner; avoiding collateral damage from a more cinematic landing.
Excelsus
Monica grit her teeth as the building began collapsing under her. She really wished whatever force brought her here had let her bring a Float System pack too, cause being able to fly would have made this way easier. Instead she'll have to do something decidedly more dangerous.
Namely putting the pedal to the metal (metaphorically, Knightmares didn't have any pedals) and start speeding towards the towering machine. Using some upwards facing parts of the collapsing building as a ramp, she speeds off and attempts to land her Vincent on the bigger machine after it gets blasted (and is hopefully thus not moving as much).
Whereupon she'd draw her dual-bladed (think Maul's lightsaber) Maser Vibration Sword to stab into the thing both to ground herself and to hurt the behemoth. Roughly equivalent to a larger high-frequency blade from the Excelsus' world, in using largely the same principle but with the addition of the blade also being superheated.
Edited by shroobot3000 on Mar 6th 2024 at 3:51:06 PM
"That was a pointless encounter with a pointless person."He was in bliss.
In that moment, with his axe midswing and the blood of his foes painting him a dark red, Grimgor felt as though he was on top of the world, and all else was beneath him. In truth, he was on top of something right now—but that something was little more than a pile of corpses cleft by his own hand. It was here, from this vantage point, that he saw the battle unfurl beneath him. His own tide of green tore through the feeble human army, tearing the tiny little apes to shreds under their vastly superior might. Grimgor couldn’t help but rear his head to the sky and unleash a mighty laugh, his voice echoed across the sea of violence.
"You.." A snarl from behind drew his attention. Surprised and a little amused, the ork whirled around to face the speaker: a human! A human who thought itself worthy to face him, how endearing!
"Me." The Green Slaughterer huffed as he hoisted his bloody axe upon his shoulders, looking down at the human. What was he, a king? A leader, or something? Didn’t matter. He’d die the same as the others.
"You’ll pay for what you’ve done..orc." The human spat.
"Maybe," Grimgor grinned, knowingly. "Or, maybe I’ll be fittin’ yer head on a spike in a few hours."
That seemed to set the man off. He grew his greatsword from the sheath on his back, lifted it over his bearded head, and rushed forwards with a cry of war. Later that day, Grimgor sat upon a mound of severed limbs and bleeding torsos, staring with admiration at the fruits of his labor: several disembodied heads decorating a row of pikes.
The desert heat of Lourent beat down on him, reminding him greatly of the wastes back at home, in the Old World. He remembered his first WAAAGH, trampling over the dead wasteland and skewering lesser orcs on their blades. He remembered the dwarfs and how they had cried to their gods as he brought their own mountains down on them, he remembered the Skaven and the smell of their corpses as they piled high, blocking off their own tunnels and forcing the still-living rats now trapped in their undercities to eat eachother or starve.
Good days.
Behind him came the grunts of average orcs, dimwitted creatures far inferior to the Black Orcs whose company he kept. They were lighter of skin and smaller in stature, more slouched, as opposed to the black orcs like him, who stood strong and tall. That was his true army, the disciplined Immortulz with whom he broke his fast and celebrated their victories. The others, all the orcs and goblins and trolls that made up the vast majority of his WAAAGH, were merely lesser orcs following the great green git they knew to be their true ruler. And here they came now, scurrying, to pay tribute to him after the battle.
Peabrained fools they were, gits who thought that sprinkling Grimgor with gifts would do anything to whet his ever-present thirst for bloodshed. The truth was, they could give him all the things they wanted, they could sift through the charred ruins and find the best blades or axes to grant him, but nothing would change the truth that he despised every last orc not a part of his Immortulz, and would happily rip them apart at the slightest hint of provocation.
Still, though, he had gotten rather used to their gifts, and had come to expect a certain standard of quality. So when the first git in his sight presented him with no more than a measly broken blade, plucked from the hands of some inexperienced fool, he grabbed the half-sword and took the orc’s head off with it. The rest of the tributes came fast, a train of gifts. The orc or goblin offering it laid the object at his feet and quickly fled before he could realize its worth, or lack thereof. Many of them kept the best loot for themselves, and this was a fact he was well aware of. Grimgor didn’t much care; he had his Immortulz, he had his armor, and he had Gitsnik. The greenskins could keep their broken swords and necklaces of ears; those three were all he ever really needed in life.
Still, while he didn’t care that his unwanted followers kept the greatest spoils for themselves, he hated absolutely nothing more than when they lied about it.
The two-thousandth, five-hundredth and seventy-third orc offered him a mere piece of plate armor as tribute, just barely meeting his expectations yet still well below most other things he’d been offered. "Dat’s all?" He grunted, an offhand comment made to this orc in particular by mere happenstance. "Ya found nuffin’ else that ya coulda given me?"
"Nothin’, boss! Dis wuz da best I could find."
Grimgor hadn’t expected the orc to actually respond. His verdant eyes squinted and he glared closer at the obviously brave (or very stupid) orc, looking him up and down. In all that time, he stood frozen in the warrior’s gaze. At last, Grimgor opened his fanged mouth and spoke in a slow, menacing drawl.
"Ya sure?" The orc seemed normal for the most part, but one little thing stood out to Grimgor: his boots. All around them were corpses, and where there weren’t corpses, there was blood. The dry earth that had reigned supreme here just a day ago was completely gone. You couldn’t have gone anywhere in the battlefield without getting some kind of corpse-debris on your boots. Clean boots meant he had paid a goblin to clean them before he had come to offer Grimgor a tribute.
"Yuz, boss, I’m s—" The wretched greenskin was never given a chance to finish. Almost immediately Grimgor had lurched forwards, and in less than the time it had taken the traitorous little git to blink, he was dangling five feet off the ground with Grimgor’s iron-clad fingers tight around his neck. The monstrous black orc was standing now, towering over all else in the vicinity; even the trolls.
"Liar." Grimgor hissed, clasp growing so tight that the smaller orc’s eyes had begun to bulge out of their sockets. "’Ow many teef it cost t’ shine ‘em shooz?"
"P-pleez, boss.." He whimpered.
"’Ow MANY!" He roared the question again, and this time the lesser orc seemed considerably more responsive.
"Firdy!" He gasped. "Firdy teefs, pleez boss don’ gut me!"
A malicious grin came to Grimgor’s crooked maw. "Don’ worry git…" He dropped the orc, who scrambled to the ground in a four-limbed bow, crying his praises and his thanks to the twelve-foot warboss. "Don’ start fankin’ me yet, git. Ya’z still gunna pay me back." Grimgor nodded at the nearest Immortul to take him away and so he was, the orc dragged off kicking and screaming and howling.
The line moved quickly again after that. It was some forty-six or so tributes later that the black orc finally returned, though lacking the lying little git’s companionship, and dumped a leather sack in the warrior’s open palm. Grimgor drew it open and guffawed at the thirty teefs clacking about within, still bloody.
…
The end of the line had come. Grimgor sat upon his throne of corpses, three hills of assorted junk all piled high on either side. In the morning he intended to leave much of it behind—nothing in them interested him in the slightest. All around him, clouds of black and deadly smoke rose into the sky, the air thick with the smell of burning bodies. He had nearly left his throne behind and retired to his tent when a commotion far away caught his ears. Furious at the prospect of a fight happening without him, he picked Gitsnik up from where it rested and marched towards the sound.
Before he had even reached the green crowd gathered around it, he saw what it was: a massive dinosaur, red and blue and covered in armor. Taken by curiosity, the warboss kicked and stomped his way through the huddled masses, forcing his way towards the beast. It was tied with thick leather straps to a wheeled platform, various unarmored orcs pulling it along with thick ropes finally coming to a stop. The captured beast was awake, though fatigued; its azure eyes burned brightly as it glared at Grimgor.
"Wot da ‘ellz dis?" He grunted, though the hint of impressment was plain to hear.
"Glabenuz, boss! ‘Least, dat’s wut da ‘umie sez." The orc who had brought the monster into camp jammed a thumb over his shoulder, at a clearly terrified human with a cocoon of rope binding him to a wooden pillar hoisted about by four goblins. "’Ee fanseez hisself a expert in deez fings."
"Dat right?" Grimgor asked with a snarl, stepping towards the bound human. "Yoo know deez sorts ov fings?" He nodded frenetically, panic in his eyes. "Good. Dey eat meat?" Again, he nodded. "Hm. Guess we’ll jus’ see. Yoo der! Cut da strap ‘round itz mouf."
"Wh—me?" The fury in Grimgor’s ensuing silence was obvious. Not wanting to piss him off any more than he already had by questioning him, the orc that had announced the beast’s presence swiftly moved to its mouth. It thrashed about in its restraints, causing everyone present save for Grimgor to physically recoil. The orc felt his boss’ eyes burning into the back of his head as he drew his choppa, hands trembling…
The strap broke with a snap, and instantly, instantly, he was in the Glavenus’ jaws. A spray of blood rained over the crowd as its head writhed about, tearing the greenskin to bloody ribbons and then swallowing what remained. Grimgor laughed and laughed in response, as though the orc’s death was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. "Umie! Whaz ya name!"
"D-D-Davik."
"Ya know who I am?"
"I-I do…Grimgor Ironhide."
"Gooood." Grimgor flashed a toothy grin. "Ya follow me now. Who ya were before don’ matta no more—yer only purpose in life now iz to take care ov dis…Glavernuz, for me. Understand?" Another, final nod of panic. "Wondaful. Now get it outta ‘ere!" He roared at the orcs and goblins carrying the Glavenus and Davik respectively. They turned without hesitation and dashed off into the night, elsewhere in the camp, with only the harsh sound of Grimgor’s howling laughter behind them.
Edited by ISZATSO on Mar 6th 2024 at 2:25:43 PM
With great power…you know the rest.The Wind Caller
"The situation was... not pretty, to say the least.", Flayn somberly says to Nicole, in a way that almost (unintentionally) seems to imply she has first-hand experience with said situation. Which shouldn't be possible given that the Wind Caller's grudge is clearly an ancient one going by what everyone (Wind Caller included) was saying.
Then again, Seiros (who now Disengages as well) full-on became a dragon during the fight, and her sword (and shield), Seteth's lance and Flayn's staff are all clearly of the same weapon set as the bow and sword they fought to obtain. Anyone would be able to tell that there's a deeper connection.
Seteth is about to respond to Robyn, but then Past Alear speaks up and gets the attention of the others (the Immovable included).
Instead of trying to interrupt her while she's letting her frustrations out, they let her do so and simply listen, though they look concerned for her as well.
Surprisingly, out of the four, it's Seteth who approaches Past Alear first.
"Alear... I understand how you must feel. But there is truly no shame to be had in relying on trusted comrades, or to use claimed weaponry to defend the people that weaponry may have otherwise brought harm to."
Past Alear probably remembers Seteth had been the only one out of the three who had not fully been on board with her coming along. He hadn't objected, but he hadn't been happy with it either. But now here he is, giving her advice and genuinely trying to comfort her when she's at a low point. She probably already knew Seiros and Flayn care about her, but this proves that Seteth does too. Would a strict and to-the-point man like him do this if he thought of her as a burden, a liability, or a parasite?
"All of you, cease your infernal cacophony at once."
The others are startled and turn to the Wind Caller. One of his eyes is now partly open. It seems Past Alear woke up him by accident. The four of them fear the worst for a moment, but what the Wind Caller say next surprises even them.
"I despise it, but I cannot deny it. I declared you would have my blade only if you beat me, and you succeeded in doing so. If your cause is as just as you claim it to be, then take what you earn and do not look back."
"Macuil.", the Immovable says as the Wind Caller weakly tries to get back up. He's clearly in rough shape. Despite that, his voice is still firm.
"If you were going to doubt your strength, or heavens forbid, choose to lay down and die because of your own insecurities, then you should have heeded my warning and left me be in the first place, or you should have let me strike you down. Neither of those things happened. You've bested me. So do not dare insult me like this."
"Enough, Macuil.", Seiros says, coming to Past Alear's defense, looking angry. But then the Wind Caller suddenly begins to glow and shrink to a human form and size. Once that glow fades, the group will be able to see his new appearance. He definitely looks like he's related to Seiros, Seteth and Flayn in some way.
◊
"I am saying what needs to be said. All of you lectured me for my decisions. None of you have the right to give up now."
He now approaches Past Alear, weakly shambling towards her due to his wounds, and while Seteth wants to get in between them just in case, a "Wait." from the Immovable makes him pause.
The Wind Caller... no, Macuil stops in front of Past Alear and looks down at her, then taps the tiara on her head once. Nothing about his body language or facial expression looks any less cold and firm than before, but...
"I do not know or care who your father is. But if this is the kind of attitude he raised you to have, then he is a pathetic, meaningless fool, just like those who sired my hatred for humanity. Whenever you feel the need to repeat his words to yourself, be silent. Whenever his advice rings in your head, silence his voice. Do this until, when you think of those words again, you will find that they no longer affect you. You are capable of doing this. Because if you didn't, you would have laid down and died already."
He lowers his hand and narrows his eyes. His eyes look bitter, tired and pained. But they also look honest.
"You are not a defect. Have I made myself clear, child of dragons?"
... is... he trying to be kind to her? In his own way at least? Judging by the fact that the other four have a look of surprise on their face, it seems that this is indeed the case.
Jumanji
Ken's eyes snap open and he bolts upright immediately.
"Who-what-where-"
He slowly looks around as he realizes he finds himself not in a library, but in a jungle.
"What the heck...", he mutters, rubbing the side of his head. "... did I get shot? Am I dying and hallucinating this? Or maybe I'm just dreaming. ... but then, where am I-"
"It's not a dream, not until you've seen the merchandise, my friend!"
Upon hearing an unknown voice from behind himself Ken turns around swiftly, grabbing his bat out of his backpack and looking about ready to go, expression in a glare. Now in front of him stands a man who... honestly doesn't look like anything Ken expected to see
◊.
"Whoa there now, aren't you fast on the trigger?", the man chuckles while playfully raising his hands as if Ken has him at gunpoint.
"Who are you?"
"Right down to business, eh? Professor J.H. "Trader" Slick, purveyor of oddities, fineries and rarities at your service.", the man says while doing a fancy bow, lowering one of his arms to swoop it in front of himself to complete the gesture.
Ken looks him over for a moment, keeping his bat trained on him.
"... are you a con artist?"
The man lets out a dramatic gasp.
"Con artist? Oh, boy, you cut me right to the click! Why, the name 'Slick' is synonymous with honesty! Oh yes-sirree-bob, I've got integrity in spades!", he says as he pulls a literal spades ace card from his sleeve, which he then quickly tosses to the side.
"My trades are fair and equal. With Professor J.H. "Trader" Slick, satisfaction is guaranteed! I've got gew-gaws, whirlygigs, thingamabobs, doohickeys, knick-knacks, paddywhacks, and if you'll bring your dog around I'll give 'em a bone. Come, I'll show ya!"
Trader Slick turns and starts walking. Ken apprehensively follows him. He scoffs a little under his breath. This guy's obviously trying to scam him. Not to mention he wouldn't bring his dog to a place like this anyway.
Regardless, they reach his shop
◊ and Trader Slick points at various things on display with his cane, but doesn't linger long on any of them, quickly turning back to Ken.
"Impressive collection, no? But oh, I can tell, you're not someone easily pleased. Might I interest you in a 'Get out of Jumanji Free' card?", he asks while pulling one from his sleeve and holding it up to the boy. That gets Ken's attention.
"Wait, how does that work? Do I just... get zapped back out, or..."
"Glad you asked, yes-sirree-bob! You get to return to your world and remove your piece from the board, without any consequences, guaranteed! Safe and sound, out of the game, another satisfied costumer. There is only one catch..."
"What?"
Trader Slick pulls the card back to himself and smirks cheekily.
"It's not free. Now, what do you have to trade for this priceless little beauty?"
Ken ponders a bit, but before he does too much of it he narrows his eyes a bit and glances at him.
"... How many times can the card be used?"
That seems to momentarily catch Trader Slick off guard, but he doesn't lose his smirk.
"It's a one-and-done, because the best results only need a single success!"
"Then I can't take it. There's five of us playing and I'm not just gonna leave the others to die. Besides, I'm low on cash anyway."
"Oh, how very noble a child you are! But ah, you see, I don't take credit, no. I'm a trader, not a salesman."
"Huh... I've never heard of someone who doesn't take money."
"Money is pretty and shiny, but once you've seen one coin you've seen them all. No sirree, trading is what I'm all about. Now, if you don't like the card, perhaps you'll find something else of value."
"Doubtful.", Ken says, arms crossed, though his eyes still look over the wares on display. However, one particular object catches said eyes.
"Is... that a matchbox?"
"Ah, yes, a nice little trinket traded to me by a previous costumer. Works quite well with some other baubles as well, if that interests you."
Ken approaches, but Trader Slick moves his cane in front of him, shaking his head and tutting with his finger.
"You can look, but you can't touch. Unless you're ready to trade."
"If I can only look, how will I know that the matches inside actually work? Heck, are there even matches in it at all?"
"Excellent insight, I say. But Trader Slick is no cheat, no sirree."
"Prove it.", Ken challenges, to which Trader Slick chuckles and opens the match box, taking out one of the matches inside. He scrapes the tip against a wooden surface and it lights aflame.
"Bright, warm and comfortable, as my service guarantees~.", Trader Slick chuckles before he moves his hand a bit to put it out, not wanting to risk it setting fire to his shop.
"Huh... so, uh... what do you want for that match box? Or even just one match?"
Trader Slick gently taps the underside of his can on the ground, revealing it to have been an umbrella all along, which he turns around so the canopy is above him.
"Professor J.H. "Trader" Slick wants nothing, needs nothing and lacks nothing.", he responds. An answer like that would confuse most people... but Ken's starting to catch on. He puts his backpack on the ground and digs through it.
"Oh, you're probably right. I doubt I'll have something that can entice a professional like you. Not even the most unique item I have on me will be of much interest, I guess. Which is... this!"
Ken takes out what appears to be a flashlight. Trader Slick looks it over for a bit, then shakes his head.
"Tempting, I admit, but I already have one of these."
"You've already got one? Dang, I should've expected that from a professional.", Ken laments dramatically as he flicks it on. But what happens when he does has Trader Slick shocked.
Instead of light, the flashlight beams out darkness instead.
"Now hold on, what is that curious contraption? Is that truly a flashlight?", he asks, getting a bit closer.
"Oh, this? No, it's the fabled Flashdark. One of the rarest items from my world. Reusable, functional, and best of all, one of a kind. I guarantee you that you won't find this anywhere in Jumanji. But I'm sure you can see that as well with a mere look."
Trader Slick approaches and Ken offers for him to take it so that he can inspect it. He does so, looking it over. Ken's smirk is a smug one, he knows what he's doing. He's not lying about it being unique, but the Flashdark, in general, is pretty much useless to Ken. The only reason he even still had it in his backpack is because he forgot it was in there for the longest time. Who knew it would ever come in handy?
"Is this truly sending out a beam of pure darkness?", Trader Slick asks while pointing it at the sky for a moment.
"Yep. If you're having trouble reading inscriptions because of light, or if some rabid animal starts charging at your neat shop, or if you just want to admire what my friend calls an 'impossible marvel of science', this is the thing for you."
"It's effective on animals, you say?"
"Of course! Shining it in their eyes will confuse and disorient them. Imagine how much you can save on reparations because you had this when a wild rhino came for your shop, and you were able to drive it away with the flick of a switch! Oh, and best of all... no light, means no electricity, which means no batteries. Practical and cost-effective."
Ken then shrugs as he takes it back.
"But, ah... on second thought, maybe this is too unique to trade for just a few matches."
He turns to his bag, looking like he's about to put it away again.
"Oh, but that's a horse of a different color, dear boy. You drive a hard bargain, and that doo-dad is too hard to pass up.", Trader Slick quickly says. "How about that Flashdark for the matches and a card?"
"A card?"
"Naturally, you still need to get out of the jungle, don't you? Even if you don't want to remove your token from the board, you still need to get back to play at all."
"You make a very good point, Mr. Slick. That sounds like a fair trade to me."
"Then we have a deal!", Slick eagerly says as he shakes Ken's hand. They exchange their items. The moment Ken has the matches and card in his hands he starts to feel the same sensation as when he got pulled into the game.
"Oh, it's working!", he says while he quickly grabs his backpack to prevent it from being left behind.
"Of course! With J.H. Slick, satisfaction is guaranteed!", he says with a wink, after which everything turns white...
—
Van Pelt looks down at the lion and huffs before pushing the corpse aside with his foot.
"I prefer to hunt my own game, thank you. Besides, its head is in no condition to make a trophy from anyway."
"Now then, where was I?"
Oh, wooden beams are flying his way. He lets out some shots to utterly destroy some of them (how strong is that gun!?), but he can't keep up with the sheer amount of them and gets slammed by multiple of them, eventually hitting the back of the bookshelf that Ken had first hidden behind when Van Pelt was first summoned. But except for briefly having his breath slammed out of his lungs (huh, so he needs to breathe), he doesn't look any worse for wear.
"Jumanji, girl, is a world. A force. A curse. A manifestation of rules that must be obeyed!" , he growls as he readjusts his hat a bit before taking aim again. When the earthquakes start to happen, Van Pelt does seem to be a bit off balance as well, but not to the same extent that everyone else will be.
"Now stand still and I will personally ensure you'll be a permanent part of it!" , he snarls while taking aim at Gravia once again. The earthquake may start messing with her antigravity depending on how that power works, and if it does, she would be an easy target to-
Jumanji glows again, and Ken suddenly emerges from it again, standing on the table.
"Whoa, the card wo-"
A gunshot goes past him, close enough to him that it knocks his cap right off of his head.
"Done running, sonny-boy?"
"Yeah.", Ken says with a glare, looking like he's about to stand his ground. For a moment this catches Van Pelt off guard. He seems pleased, almost in a proud way rather than a cruel one. But he still takes aim at him nonetheless.
"So you're finally facing me like a man?"
"Nah. I'm gonna end the game prematurely.", Ken now grins as he lights up a match. Van Pelt pauses for a moment, as will all the still-present. Even the earthquake seems to halt.
"What do you think you're doing? Where did you get that?"
"I'm gonna burn this cursed game to cinders with the match that trader gave me. Shame 'bout the building, but, well, it's already wrecked anyway. And don't you think about shooting me to stop me, I'd just drop the match and Jumanji'll burn anyway."
Van Pelt... starts to look scared. ... no, not just scared, but terrified.
"Slick, you fool... Child, put that away this instance! You have no idea what you're doing!"
"I'm pretty sure I know how to burn things.", Ken taunts. He does not notice that the glass in the middle of the board is beginning to glow an eerie red, as if the game is becoming angry.
"That is not what I mean, you ignorant yank! To cheat is one thing, but you are crossing a line."
"Says the insane tea-slurping S.O.B. shooting at us with a gun. Don't dish out what you can't take, 'mate'."
Jumanji now glows red in its entirety, giving Ken pause. A message appears on the glass.
Poor sportmanship must be punished and pained;
Horror and death you will have gained.
The Stalker cries an echoing howl;
To deliver onto you a fate most foul.
He's here to bring death upon you;
There is nothing you can do.
You cannot rely on your desperate score;
For this turn none can pass thirty-four.
A transaction with steep price paid;
Blocked by darkness given through trade.
Ken quickly jumps off of the table as something begins to emerge from it. Van Pelt lets out a horrified gasp, dropping his gun and running to hide behind one of the bookshelves. All of the animals will do the same, roaring in primal fear as they flee, some even fleeing out of the library.
A tall being who seems more cloak than man is now standing on the table, towering over everyone, face covered by a skull-like mask and wearing a large hat with a plume. He lets out a low snarl that sounds like it comes straight out of a nightmare. His very presence brings about a primal sense of fear that should affect even Mai.
The Stalker looks down at the board and grabs Ken's token, which then proceeds to melt in his hand as he looks straight into the boy's eyes.
"First... you. Then... them."
He steps off of the table now and approaches the shivering boy, who is overwhelmed with fear and is stuck in place.
"G... Guys? Guys! R-r-roll the d-dice! P-PLEASE roll the dice!", Ken manages to get out as the Stalker draws near to him.
However, as the message said, no matter what number they roll this turn, even if it would have overshot 35, even if they get there with a double turn, their token will stop at 34. Small pillars of dark light spring up from the 35th tile that, for this turn at least, will block them from going forward.
Satisfaction guaranteed indeed. His satisfaction, that is.
In the year 202X, all is devastation... Soon, any last shred of hope had by the saintliest optimist shall die and decay.Solopost - Charlian Jackson
It's a very sunny Saturday afternoon. Sunlight permeated the room after Charlian opened the curtains and blinds in apartment, and the sound of spoons and forks clinking against glass jars and ceramic plates filled the kitchen as he prepared his breakfast.
With practiced ease, he placed two slices of fresh tomatoes on a piece of toast, before topping it with two pieces of cucumber and a handful of coleslaw. Topping the vegetables is two thick cuts of stewed beef with a generous amount of cheese, as well as a single fried egg. Charlian completed the sandwich by placing another piece of toast on top and let out a huff of satisfaction, before he consumed the meal at a leisurely pace, downing it with the help of a mug of milk.
It has been a few months since he settled in the Arena, and things seem to have calmed down (for the most part, if you discount the various fights that happen on at least a bi-daily basis) after the incident in that village that he doesn't like to think about at all. Despite the rather unpleasant experience (to say the very least), Charlian is happy that he has finally done something that he can be somewhat proud of.
It would be preferable if he could've gotten there sooner instead of slowing down to observe the situation and investigate as he could've saved more people, but that train of thought is very problematic, since he is just one person and charging in would've been disastrous if he didn't have two other people with him.
As such, Charlian decided that at the end of the day, he did what he could, the best he could.
Yup.
That's how it went.
So why is he still doubting himself?
Oh right, it's because this isn't all I can do. I could've just replicated Gae Bolg from the beginning if I wanted, but no, I just had to hold myself back and-
The sound of a piece of tomato falling onto his plate snapped him out of his rumination, making him realize that his sandwich is starting to come apart. Charlian picked up the vegetable and quickly consumed it along with the rest of his sandwich, before he took a deep breath and started cleaning up.
No, that wouldn't bring the dead back to life, and it will just encourage me to abuse this power. is the tentative conclusion he reached. Deep down, there is a part of him that is well aware that if he was more willing to use his abilities, he could've done more, but that begs the question: At what point is he going to stop?
Not wanting to think about the subject any further, his brain automatically compartmentalized it so he can figure it out later. There's always time for it anyways, no harm in pushing it back for just a few weeks.
"It's not helpful to push it away forever, you must confront it sooner or later. Do you want to end up like Tenzan Nakajima?" The cold voice of R-2's pilot
almost made him drop his plate. The man who just spoke is not the real Raidiese F. Branstein, but rather a replication of the original that he did not purposefully create.
This has been happening for a while now, where replications of characters- or rather people from other worlds- would pop out of nowhere to give him advice like they've just read his mind despite the fact that he did not replicate them. Charlian isn't sure which is worse: that this is a special sadistic feature of the ritual that's forcing him to confront reality, or a self-inflicted punishment created by his own mind.
"Watch me." The young man knows that this is sound advice, but he still replied in a childishly stubborn way. With a wave of his hand, Raidiese disappeared from sight, as if he was never there.
After cleaning up, the young man decided that he's going to take a stroll to start off his day, since he still has plenty of time before work. Charlian put on a pair of earphones, left through the front door, selected a song
, and locked said door in one smooth motion as G-Self
materialized out of thin on its shoulder to let him hold onto the armor around its neck.
With a carefully controlled jump, G-Self flew into the air and continued at a slow pace to avoid throwing its passenger off. Charlian can't help but smile as he looked down at the Arena; he has done this for more than a month now, but he feels like he would never get tired of going on flights like this. It feels incredibly liberating to soar through the air, with wind rushing past his face and emotionally touching music in his ears. It feels as if he has naught a single worry that he can't leave behind for the moment.
Unfortunately, all good times must come to an end. The clock on his phone indicated that he has 10 minutes to check into work, something that snapped him out of his good mood and prompted him to immediately set his GPS to his workplace. Charlian craved more of that excitement, so he immediately started contemplating if there's something he can do that will end this stroll on a good note without taking too much time.
Charlian then thought of something that fits the bill, something he has never tried before. He slowly climbed on top of G-Self's head as the Gundam ascended higher and higher into the air with no sign of stopping. Then, right after putting on a helmet, he threw himself off of the Mobile Suit after it gradually halted its ascent. The young man adjusted his position so he's facing downward as he fell towards his workplace as his heart pounded in his chest so rapidly that he could feel blood pumping through the veins in his ears.
About halfway through, Charlian dismissed G-Self before he replicates all of its aspects, transforming himself into a miniature version of the Gundam. Despite no longer feeling air rushing past his body, he can't help but let out a cheer. "WOOOOO! Hahahahaha!" The young man used the boosters on his body to perform various tricks: Frontal spins, rotating sideway spins, cartwheels (which looked ridiculous in the best way possible), and much more. I've got to set up a camera somehow! Maybe I can mount one on the Gundam?
After making it 3/4th the way down, Charlian decided to stop fooling around. Using the boosters to adjust his position back to a vertical stand and slow his descent. It didn't take long for him to land in his workplace's parking lot.
"That was the first time you ever skydived to work, Jackson. At least you parked your vehicle in the right place this time." His employer commented with a barely-disguised smile right after he got out of his car. "Send me a video next time."
"Yes sir." The young man replied in a casual manner, huffing out a laugh as he dismissed the G-Self aspects and started putting on his uniform. That was just about the best start to a day he had, and hopefully the rest will be just as good.
Edited by cyzja922 on Mar 6th 2024 at 12:21:38 PM
Robyn offers Past Alear a sympathetic look.
"And I thought things with me and Mum were rotten... If her arsehole of a father's around here somewhere, I'm definitely tearin' him a new one the size of a Fomorian."
She's about to chime in when the Wind Caller suddenly transforms into the more human-looking Macuil and gives Past Alear an encouraging speech.
"Well, chop me head off and call me a dullahan. That's probably the closest he'll get to admittin' he doesn't hate people that much," she muses.
-
Flayn's accidental slip up doesn't go unnoticed by Nicole. Between that and the Wind Caller's humanoid appearance as Macuil, she quickly puts two and two together.
"You and Seteth have been around for way longer than I think you have, haven't ya?" she asks.
Casting a glance at Past Alear, she offers her an encouraging smile.
"What he said," she remarks, gesturing to Macuil.

Game
Both Gregory and Evan get hit hard by the Pymli's charged electric attack. Thankfully they can't fall off of the platforms, but that doesn't mitigate the damage they took, nor the damage they take from the electric tiles right after. At least Charlie dishes out some healing, but they're still put at a disadvantage due to the status effects from Crumbling Dream.
"Crud, crud, crud, I'm sorry!", Cassidy calls out. She quickly looks through Evan's moves and looks at the new move. Nowhere to Run, a move that prevents the enemy from fleeing?
She selects that one... only to read about the second effect moments after. But it's too late to take it back now.
Evan gains an almost fire-like aura for a moment. The nearest Pymli is then suddenly at risk of being trapped in a rectangular, box-like prison. Charlie may have some mixed feelings about this attack considering what it may remind her of if she notices it.
Depending on what the others do though (namely: if one of them uses a fire-elemental attack close to Evan), Nowhere to Run will also affect the rest of the party.
Sam goes next and selects Drill Rush. They gotta do damage to those things and quick.
Grape notices something odd as he goes to select. He was gonna go for Call-on-Freddy again, but then noticed that Warp briefly glitched. Maybe...
After the results of Jax's counterattack and Victoria's attack, Grape selects Warp, and-
—
Second Layer Down
The group will briefly appear within the pixel-y void again. This time, however, it looks and feels darker. The trees look less like tree shapes and more like ovals. All color has been drained, replacing the glowing blue parts with a light gray.
A hum drones through the air. It's almost recognizable as a voice, but if it's saying anything, they won't be able to make anything out.
For the very brief time that the party is here, they'll have the feeling that they're being watched.
—
2/4
The party reappears on the battlefield. However, their positions have shifted, as they are now closer to El Mirage. Not close enough yet to get to him immediately, but still a good bit closer.
The Wind Caller
It seems the Wind Caller is done sitting there and taking the attacks. He evades Robyn's destructive beam... almost. He gets clipped in his wing at the last second, landing the hit barely in time.
Counterattack!
The Wind Caller, furious, moves in to slash at Robyn.
Darting Blow!
Desperation!
With the speed boost from Darting Blow and Desperation activating, the Wind Caller is able to make a second attack before Robyn can even react to the first, following up with blades of wind.
Now moving faster, he's able to react to the incoming rocks from Dragon Vein for long enough that Nicole gets sent flying away before he can be hit. The Immovable looks up at Nicole as she lands on his back.
"I'm afraid I lack the power to do that. I chose to follow after a group of suspicious and rude people stopped by a few hours after you left, demanding my bow from me. I chased them off, but I knew they would go for him next. I moved as fast as I could, but unfortunately it seems I was not fast enough."
He lets out a few heavy breaths, clearly exhausted.
"I will attempt to deal with any phantoms my brother may still conjure. But I am too weak and old to confront him in direct combat."
The Immaculate One needs a moment to catch her bearings after that back-and-forth she had with the Wind Caller, so this turn she chooses to try to shield Flayn, Seteth and Past Alear with her body, as she expects another Gale.
The Wind Caller, who has his eyes on his present enemies, begins to glow red again, already readying that other Gale, when-
KRACKOOM
"What?", he growls as he looks at the direction of the sound-
"WHAT!?",
"Is... is that... some sort of golem?", Flayn asks as she tries to get back up.
"One that... can be steered and controlled?", Seteth says with shock in his voice.
The Wind Caller does not know what to expect, and as such is completely caught off guard by the explosions that happen.
"GAAAAAH!!!"
It seems they deal enormous damage, as they force the Wind Caller to land again to prevent himself from crashing.
Counterattack!
Darting Blow!
Desperation!
The Wind Caller sends two tornadoes the Wyvern Esper's way, and after that.
Gale!
The Wind Caller unleashes another Gale. However, instead of trying to focus on everyone, he sends all of it towards the Wyvern Esper, clearly recognizing it to be a massive threat.
This move, however, will ensure that everyone else will be able to move and strike this turn guaranteed. And with the Wind Caller no longer restoring his barrier...
Well, victory may just be in their hands now.
—
BARRIER STATUS:
— — —
— — —
— — —
*The Wind Caller, Level 42
Edited by DevilPsyco on Mar 5th 2024 at 8:42:32 PM
In the year 202X, all is devastation... Soon, any last shred of hope had by the saintliest optimist shall die and decay.