Val

"...heh...aha..."

Val couldn't help it. The end was near. The Huntress has gone fully monstrous, a gigantic thing that probably had more than enough power to crush their group to paste.

"Haha, hahaha..."

And he was laughing.

"Ahaha, hahahahaha, hahaha..." He paused for breath—

"AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

—and then exploded into rolling laughter, doubling over from how hard he was laughing, how pathetically, pointlessly funny this whole "adventure" had been. He'd thought it before, but it had never been more apparent than now—this had all been a beautifully twisted joke, and their impending gory deaths were the punchline.

However...

Val let out one last giggle as he straightened, wiping a tear from his eye. "Ah, it's been a pleasure working with you all, but I'm afraid our time together is brief." He twirled his staff in his hand, giving the Huntress a grin. "At the very least, let's make our dance with death memorable."

Val leapt across the battlefield, twirling to slam the staff right into the Huntress's ankles. He doubted it would do much, but no harm in trying.

"Kept me waiting, haven’t you? Tch. No matter. Dawdle all you’d like. In the end, your defeat remains inevitable."

Poppy Blake

"NO!" Poppy screamed in defiance at the Huntress. "You're not taking my friends! You're not taking me! You've reaped and sown and sown and reaped with impunity, but today is the day that you get your feet cut out from under you, Pretender Huntress! Momento Mori!"

"Remember your mortality, what was meant to be, and perish!" she howled, drawing her magic even tighter around her hands and focusing her spells into more ever-more-powerful forms of themselves. "Release the souls that you've stolen and cease to be!"

At last, her magic reached a critical mass, and, taking advantage of Cait's hold on the Huntress, Poppy released all of it at once in a directional beam at the giant flesh golem's knees. "L-Look out!" the rot apostate yelped, as her hands shook with the effort of keeping all that hungry magic contained and focused. "Don't come close to me! I—I can't—ugh!"

Indeed, a radius of dead grass began spreading from under Poppy's feet, and the aura of sheer wrongness that radiated from her intensified, as if in warning. There was always the danger of her magic splashing onto someone it shouldn't have, and harming them. Deep down, Poppy was glad that some of the beastmen absorbed into the Huntress were still alive. If there was still life force to consume, it was all the more palatable for her magic.

Edited by JumpingFruit on Apr 7th 2021 at 9:07:39 AM

I wear the skin of the Elder Things, having come unto my own.

The rot spread across the Huntress's knees, down to her legs. Decay rapidly breaking down the flesh, as the slow beam of sickly green magic kept eating away at the meat. A few minutes prior, this tactic would have never worked. The enemy too fast for Poppy to reliably hit for long enough periods to hurt. But now, The Huntress had inadvertently made herself vulnerable to the magic-users within the group.

She wasn't without her tricks, though. Poppy could see muscles and bones rippling underneath the badly torn skin and tufts of fur, moving down like worms and reinforcing the joints she was attacking. Flesh growing back, as quickly as she was destroying it. The Huntress was trying to outlast her, betting on the little girl and the pirate being unable to keep up their barrage much longer.

Then Val suddenly appeared behind the mutated Pretender. Unseen or heard by the mad titan, the assassin twirled his staff and jumped up the twitching, pulsing leg. Despite wounded and pained, he avoided the grasping arms and snapping jaws beneath his feet and reached the ankles. Spotting a chink in the armor, a hole torn into the fleshy avalanche by rot and decay, he struck with the precision of a man who knew where to inflict the most damage.

He was rewarded with a satisfying crunch, as his staff hit the bone underneath. It wasn't much. Just a small crack. But that was all it needed, as the sheer weight resting on this single, compromised point toppled the fragile balance. Maybe he had planned it, maybe it was sheer instinct, but Val had exploited one major weakness from the Huntress grotesque transformation.

That it was unstable...

Perhaps he felt vindication. Or simply laughed his ass off, as the Huntress slowly leaned over one side, as her ankle splintered like dry wood, and then tumbled down on top of him. A mountain of meat, screaming faces and grasping hands falling down, ready to crush him.

Edited by TheNohen on Apr 8th 2021 at 8:55:50 PM

Sword had held back again. They'd gotten fucking played, and they were paying for it. The filth had just run, instead of standing to fight, but that was just an escalation, not a defeat.

The rest of her comrades had appeared way better at charging in than she was; Sword was a lot more of a fan of muggings than assaults. She'd never really been a good bodyguard, but, well, that was probably more because she'd need friendly bodies to guard. This might have been the first time it'd ever happened. Looked like she needed to do it again then. This, she could handle. No more tricks, no more impossible attacks, just a big pile of meat and her fists. Huge bitches meant huge guts. She had to just think of it like that, that she was still in control her, that she wasn't about to try to punch something more akin to a falling building than a mark in an alley.

"Stay right where you are, Val!" Sword put her left hand on her shoulder and wound the other one back, rolling out any kinks left over. She cranked it up and back as she broke into a jog towards this thing, winding and winding as it fell. "You teed me up just fine, and now it's time to inscribe the horizon."

Sword slid in next to Val and swung her entire body weight into one enormous punch aimed straight up at the collapsing Huntress. For a second, she definitely thought she could have redirected it, steered it away or smacked the side instead, but no. If she wasn't strong enough to take this first bastard head-on, obliterate it with its own force crashing against hers, she wouldn't be strong enough for what was after. "The Guilds say hello!"

It seemed that, desperate, the Huntress had taken in what remained of the beastmen nearby and became a writhing mass of flesh. If anything, however, it made her more of a target, swift and deadly movements now made slow and shambling. Caitlin held the Huntress's arm in place with a miniature hurricane as Poppy rotted away her legs, a fact that Val seemingly took advantage of to cripple her joints.

As everyone gave seemingly their all in bringing down this first Pretender, Nasira briefly wondered if all their endeavors against the false and aspiring gods would wind up like this - a deathmatch where all of them needed to place their lives on their line and their bodies and abilities to their limit, every time. Well, if that was the case, there was no need for her to hold back either - hold back and die, or go all out and live.

The djinn focused on her hands and tried her best to manifest a weapon, but was instead struck by a piercing headache followed by blurred vision. She had overextended her smoke's abilities, it seemed, and would instead need to rely on her body and her flame. Nothing for it - Nasira took a moment to recover herself and assess the situation.

She watched the Huntress's body ripple and ebb, the body of beastmen torn wide open as their flesh were remade while they still lived and screamed in agony. Lungs, intestines, stomach, all shredded and defiled to haphazardly suit the Huntress's purpose.

...gas.

Sheets of fur rose and sank between the tides of flesh, like boats lost at sea crashed into rocks.

Hair.

Muscles and sinew rotted away, oozing and bursting and squelching as more rolled in to replace it, leaving a putrid, oily smell wafting in the air.

Fat.

Unlike her comrades, Nasira wasn't one for pithy, heroic statements. She was never afforded the luxury to boast or be prideful. No, as a servant, as a slave, she was always forced to put mind to task and even with her newfound freedom it seemed she had no other choice. At least her task was a simple one.

Kill the Huntress.

And with what few tools at her disposal, how would she do this?

Burn the Huntress.

With the avalanche of rotting bodies collapsing upon Val and Sword, Nasira shot forward, her body blazing across the ground like a comet across the sky. The fiery djinn dived directly into the Huntress's center of mass, burning brighter, hotter, seeking to ignite her foe from the inside out with the mass of flesh she had chosen to hoard.

Nasira uses Charge (1) with her own self-immolated body.

The writhing mass of maws, flesh, hands, feet, and skin came ever closer. The fall seeming almost excruciatingly slow from the outside. The clawed foot stuck in the ground, while the ankle and tendons snapped like dry twigs and ropes. The leg buckling and the whole giant grotesquerie leaning over on one side. Several hundred tons of flesh, sinew, and bone bearing down on Val and Sword.

Her punch was delivered with as much force as could muster. Hitting one of the screaming, whimpering mouths, it shattered the teeth and punched into the flesh underneath. The jaw bit down on her wrist, digging deep into her flesh. Her arm broke under the sheer impact and her shoulder dislocated, as the weight slammed into her full force. It was too much. Sword was strong, but not strong enough to lift the Huntress in her current form or prevent her from crushing her and Val.

...

Nasira lit up like a bonfire. Gathering the rest of her innate heat, the djinn ignited and skipped over the ground. Her energy burning away rapidly, propelling her forward at incredible speed. This was dangerous, suicidal even, as the flames burned at such intensity she was in danger of flickering out forever. Yet, she committed.

Just as the Huntress broke down over Sword and Val, Nasira impacted on the giant's misformed chest. She had aimed for the center of mass and, although it was in the process of shifting, she had aimed true. The impact sent ripples over the soft, putrid flesh. Tufts of fur and dripping fat ignited, bursting into small flames. The entire mountain of flesh was thrown on its back, away from Val and Sword.

But Nasira was not so lucky. Buried deep within the disgustingly soft meat, she could do little other than continue to burn. The Huntress, blind and deaf as she was, could still feel pain and she felt the searing agony of flesh burning. In fact, the djinn had penetrated so deeply, that for a brief moment she saw the Huntress herself, small, boney and twisted, huddled in a pocket of air deep within her golem. For a heartbeat, their eyes met and Nasira could see the panic in her eyes.

The giant raised its free hand, its fingers mutating into boney claws, and then plunged it into the smoking cavity in its chest. Nasira felt the claws digging and then grasping at her before she could react. Then she was pulled out and flung into the air, smoking and sputtering out like a blown candle before she impacted on the ground.

The Huntress was prone, unable to get back up. Her flesh now racing down to her legs, to heal the damage, to give her some mobility. In her chest, a deep, burning hole, so horrifically seared that she couldn't regenerate it. In her desperation, she diverted most of her available meat to her clawed hand, which grew to massive proportions, blotting out the sun above the hill. Then she slammed it down, intending to crush the whole group like pesky flies.

The beast was bleeding, but it was not yet dead...

Edited by TheNohen on Apr 9th 2021 at 9:16:42 PM

Poppy Blake

"Val! Sword! Get up, come on, get up!" Poppy screamed, to no avail as the Huntress brought its arm upon them to crush them. Then Nasira made her move, knocking the Huntress onto her back at great cost. "Nasira! Oh my gods! Wh-What the—what was that? Get up! Please! Her arm, it's—!"

And then—

There.

Somewhere in the middle of the flesh golem, Poppy sensed life that was not the dwindling embers of a dying beastman. The very core of the construct was the Huntress herself, and Poppy, remembering the way that she was tossed about by the Huntress in the clearing, felt anger stoke itself to white-hot heat in her chest. Something clawed at her ribcage, demanding to be let out—What, does having things that I don't and your size mean that I should cower beneath you? Is that it? Is that what you think? I bet it is, but you're the same as me. I'm not afraid of you. Not any longer.

So you're coming with me.

"You dug your own grave, now lie in it!" Poppy screamed, trusting in her teammates to protect themselves and her if it was at all possible. Even if it was not, she was dead-set on taking the Huntress along with her. "LIE IN IT! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

With her arms extended and the Huntress all-too-focused on bringing her arm down, Poppy was able to target the mass of burnt flesh undergoing necrosis at that very moment. If living flesh could fuel her magic more efficiently, then dead flesh was best for transmitting disease without the host's knowledge, as it could not feel. Poppy seeded rot in the hollowed-out core of the flesh golem's wound, breathed, and waited to join her ancestors in the hallowed halls of the dead.

Poppy used Protect Me! (1)

Edited by JumpingFruit on Apr 9th 2021 at 10:38:23 AM

I wear the skin of the Elder Things, having come unto my own.

Sword had beaten her worst days. She had to believe that, always. The worst was always behind her. Holding up this colossus of rot and meat above her, she... failed to think of anything worse. Her arm gave out. Only Nasira saved her.

"This is fine! This is fine!" Sword babbled to herself to not scream in pain. That she could do. Her arm hung loose at its side. Out of habit, panic maybe, she put out a magic body double, swaying next to her to try to give her some measure of cover. "Fuck 'em up Poppy! I teed her up good for ya! Captain Holloway, you uh, you think you can get in there with the execute?"

Captain Holloway

“I can barely hold up my bloody arm...!” Cait panted in response to Sword, clutching her now withered left arm as she cried out in pain and cut short her prolonged windblast. In a rather morbid form of irony, it resembled Poppy's shrivelled limb; naught but sinew and bone and with the barest muscle tissue left to make it twitch erratically. “Gods... m-my good arm's working, at least. Suppose I could get some swings in—”

Her gaze softened as she eyed Sword's sorry state; pursing her lips into a watery smile as she lightly bonked her head against the oni's as a gesture of sympathy and camaraderie.

“Hold on a few moments longer, love. I think we can struggle through this still...”

With only fumes and the thought of future recover fuelling her onwards, Cait fought to catch her breath and clutched her sword tightly with her still-working right arm, gradually picking up speed from an unsteady stumble to a full on sprint. She didn't have the strength to land a killing blow, but she could at the least annoy—wear down the Huntress as the creature had worn down herself, leaving her vulnerable for a proper lethal strike.

”Someone bloody end this before I pass out...! That's an order...!” she barked out in a hoarse tone, almost laughing aloud through sheer exhaustion as she swung her sword to cut into the Huntress' form only superficially. She was amazed how it'd only taken a few hours for her to consider this group worthwhile allies.

Forged through fire, she presumed, just like she'd grown quickly attached to her crew. She doubted it'd be exactly the same, and probably not as lasting at least. That crew had been reliant on her leadership, and here... everyone was on more or less equal ground. In terms of their goals, at any rate...

It's odd... but I find this strangely... invigorating.

Edited by Enirboreh on Apr 10th 2021 at 2:05:52 PM

bork

Val

All Val could do was stare. Stare as the Huntress slowly toppled down, about to crush him into a Val-pancake. Stare as Sword rushed in front of him to protect him. Stare as Nasira crashed into the Huntress, sending the giant to the ground.

He blinked.

How long was I staring?

"Uh, whoops! Got a bit distracted there, sorry!" He giggled, then followed Caitlin down to help with the whole "wear the Huntress down" thing.

Edited by LilyTheLitten on Apr 10th 2021 at 9:00:10 AM

"Kept me waiting, haven’t you? Tch. No matter. Dawdle all you’d like. In the end, your defeat remains inevitable."

Masaru

The giant had fallen, or rather, the construct the Huntress was using as some sort of flesh suit had fallen and through the efforts of their comrades, she was incapable of getting up or mounting an effective defense. Now was the time to strike then, going in for the kill against a vulnerable opponent. The only ones who seemed to be capable of action on such short notice was the scythe wielder, Dyersthel. They would probably have enough time for but one strike each, so they would have to be decisive about it. Masaru raised his sword, eyeing up the twisted beastmen forming out of the monstrous flesh as he plotted a course along the Huntress' "suit", towards her real body.

"Dyersthel! We must strike now! Behead the Huntress in one swift blow. Follow me, we'll strike at the neck!"

As he said that, the undead general instead pointed to himself when Dyersthel would look at him, before making a stabbing motion towards the heart, followed by pointing at Dyersthel and then cutting along the throat. With the plan set in place, Masaru began to move with fluid swiftness, sprinting as fast as safety would allow down the crawling waves of flesh as the Huntress tried to regenerate. Genkaen swung back and forth, splattering meat, skin and burning embers with every slice at the abominable display of healing before them. Grabbing beastmen were cut down before they even got a hold on him, an expert display of fluid and grace. Though Masaru no longer felt adrenaline, the excitement and terror of fighting for your life once again gripped his cold heart. Ashes, blood, flesh being rent and torn, his finest moment of victory, cementing him as the head general of Nenmonchi, it came flooding back as the lava in the final moments of his mortal life once did. Every swing brought about his full strength and speed, skill-tempered force, to end a battle with a strike to the heart as he approached the Huntress' actual chest area. A fierce foe, but the decisive strike was at hand as he raised the blade high, pointing downwards.

No words.

No moment of hesitation.

Just the flash of flames.

And the glint of metal illuminated in those incandescent sparks, plunging down towards her heart.

Edited by UndyingPhoenix on Apr 10th 2021 at 9:53:48 PM

As Captain Holloway brought herself closer to Sword, all her bravado faded. She shook her head, mouth agape, trying to think of anything to say, eyes desperate. In this moment her defenses fell. And then it was over, the Captain running off to get this shit sorted. Sword wasn't going to let her run off alone after that. She yanked her jacket off to tie her loose arm into a crude sling, leaving her in plain bandage chest wraps up top. She'd doubtless have more bandages after this.

"I ain't disappointed the Captain yet." She growled more to herself than anyone else, and ran after the fallen monster, fist raised alongside her body double to try and deal all the damage she could. The Guilds' pride was on the line, after all!

Dyersthel

"Understood. Let us go!"

The traveler nodded in response at the warrior, raising his scythe. There was no need of further words. Each one's role was set. Yes, there would likely only be time for one strike. In other words, one strike would decide the outcome. They had an advantage at least. The enemy was down. Regenerating, yes, but in range.
As the sword of his comrade danced, burning open the path before his dashing feet, the traveler also began running. Running towards the giantess, he took a deep breath, and-
He concentrated.

His feet were moving as fast as they could along the Huntress's body. The blade he wielded was moving as if guided directly by his will. By and large, that was the case. His senses were sharpened, too. He could not do this sort of thing often, but now, he was pushing himself in order to slay a foe greater than himself.
His sight was expanding, covering almost the whole area around him. Rather, he could 'perceive' something- a mound of flesh, a beastman, or whatever one of the Huntress' designs- and then he would turn his attention towards it, and his war-scythe would fly in and intercept the attack. By how he moved, you could tell; this was not mere luck or adrenaline. This was a trained soldier, someone who had fought and survived many a battle...!
His weapon danced, onwards and onwards, around him. Drawing arc after arc in the blood-soaked sky, stabbing and slashing the next instant, it really was a wild rondo that his hands and his blade conducted.
Like well-choreographed partners, at some points they would separate- the traveler would strike at a foe in front with his bare hands, and behind him the weapon would cut down another- and reconvene in the next instant.

What was the traveler thinking, as he continued his furious advance? Under his coat, his face was hidden, but you somehow knew-
He was smiling, despite himself.
He was originally a warrior, after all.
And soon, the neck of the giantess was within sight, and he had seen his target...!

Once more.
The scythe... drew a silver arc, slicing the air itself... and its fierce blade came down upon the Huntress's neck...!

Masaru saw his chance and took it. With the Huntress prone and wounded, the Shibito nodded at Dyersthel and rushed forward. They had to hurry. Half the group was wounded or incapacitated. Poppy's magic wouldn't last forever, either. If they failed to kill the Huntress now, she would recover, regenerate and crush them.

But the Pretender, though crippled, had not sat idly by. Twitching and spasming she began to deal with the issue of her muted senses. With her bloodthirsty rage now cooling off into calculated cunning, she began to use her biomancy again. As Masaru and Dyersthel dashed towards her legs, eyes suddenly began to burst out of the pulsing flesh. Bursting like rotten fruit under the boots of the warriors, they popped up all along the left leg they were running on, spotting them instantly.

The giant roared and two massive arms grew out of the hips, reaching up to three meters into the air, adorned with boney blades instead of hands. They slammed down on Masaru, ready to slice him in half.

Only for Cait and Val to jump in front of him and catch the first blade with their weapons crossed. Sword followed them and she and her clone punched the second blade aside. It only bought a few seconds, but it was enough for Masaru and Dyersthel to rush up the belly and towards the chest.

The Huntress now summoned naked, skinless aberrants out of her flesh. Half-formed, mad beings that once had been beastmen. Blade and scythe cut through flesh and bone, as both warriors hacked their way through these monsters with ruthless efficiency. Limbs flew, heads were split and blood gushed as they butchered the tide of enemies.

The resistance grew more panicked. Cait and Val were slammed off the leg, while Swords clone was impaled and she narrowly dodged out of the way. Masaru began to slow down, the sheer weight of bodies now slowly smothering him. But Dyersthel was moving forward undeterred, his scythe moving by his will, while his fist crushed jaws and broke bones. Soon, he had reached the neck and drew his blade in a wide arc, cutting through flesh and sinew.

His blade was caught. Layers and layers of reinforced bone grew in the gash he had cleaved. Somewhere below him, the shrieking laughter of the Huntress could be heard in triumph, as the group's last gamble had failed. It had been folly to assume, she would remain on the top, vulnerable. The head, the neck...nothing more than a trap. Dyersthel was grabbed and mauled by the clones behind him, his face pressed into the flesh, ready to be absorbed.

"I won! I WON!!!! DADDY, I WON!", she screamed, nestled deep within her flesh golem, grinning and cackling mad.

Then a little spark hit her forehead.

Confused, she looked up and saw a blade sticking out of the flesh before her face! It drew back and slashed left and right, pieces of blood-soaked flesh falling into her cocoon and Masaru standing in the cavity, that Nasira had burned a few seconds before. His burning eyes affixed on the childlike Pretender in front of him. Dyersthel had been a diversion and the general had used his supposed defeat to reach the hole in her chest and dig himself down toward her.

The Huntress screamed in shock and terror. Masaru leaped, wielding his blade with two hands. In her desperation, the Huntress drew all her power into stopping him and fleshy hands burst out of the calcified flesh, grabbing him and holding him in place. She shrieked in relief.

Which turned into breathless horror, as the arms rotted in mere moments to putrid clumps of flesh. Somewhere, on the outside, Poppy collapsed onto the ground, utterly spent, but with a grin.

Masaru wrenched himself free and plunged his blade straight down.

Hot steel was quenched in cold blood, as the sword pierced her heart. The Huntress's face, so torn by madness and fear that one could barely see the youth she actually was, went pale. Her mouth letting out a silent scream. Her eyes grew wide and she could only whisper one last sentence. "Daddy....help me..."

Then she was dead.

...

The flesh golem broke down only a few short seconds afterward, as no magic could hold its impossible structure together. Clumps of flesh breaking off like ice from a glacier, it deteriorated rapidly until nothing but a giant, deformed skeleton remained.

As the dust settled and everybody recovered their wits, the only thing left of the dreaded Huntress was a small, dead girl with a blade in her chest and a blood-soaked Masaru standing over her.

The First Pretender was slain.

Edited by TheNohen on Apr 19th 2021 at 5:59:11 PM

Captain Holloway

As soon as she was certain there were no more tricks left, and that the remaining corpse of the Huntress was still, Caitlin effectively collapsed onto her back—roaring with laughter and relief as the adrenaline wore off and her stamina came crashing down into the minus scale.

“...you... bloody mad bastards...! All of you... we did it. One down...!”

She couldn't help but snort with derision at this fact, but the catharthis was regardless too strong for her to simply dismiss, and she eventually heaved herself back upright—sore all over, cut, and with her tattooed arm still a pathetically shrivelled husk of its former self.

“Alright. Who's bleeding out? Check all over...!” she advised, doing so herself as she took inventory of her injuries. “By the time the pain kicks in it might already be too late, see...!”

She stopped by each of the group to try and give them a solid pat on the back, careful not to agitate anything and wondering how she was even standing upright after all this—

Her legs buckled, and she found herself on her knees again, blinking rapidly as she staved off a blackout.

There it is.

“So we were fighting... a small girl, it looks like... with colossal daddy issues...” she noted. “I'd normally try and make comment but I've a fog on the brain...”

bork

Poppy Blake

Poppy let out a breath she hadn't realized that she was holding for all this time, and laid on her side, panting and exhausted. "I...I'm not hurt, much, except for my wrist where the Huntress grabbed it," she reported quietly. "I...I just need a moment. If I don't tend to your wounds quickly...they'll...get infected."

She heaved herself upright, coughing, as she looked around at everyone else. Poppy almost sagged back to one side again, but she leaned forwards and tried to prop herself up on her uninjured wrist. "I can summon helpful molds," she explained after a while. "Some kill these harmful—there are these harmful little creatures in filth that make people sick—things, I guess. I don't really know what they are..."

She trailed off, and then quietly whispered a little more: "I can also make some mold to hold your wounds closed, but you have to stay still. If you panic, I'll panic, and I can't guarantee I won't accidentally hurt you then. Sorry."

Edited by JumpingFruit on May 8th 2021 at 9:56:52 AM

I wear the skin of the Elder Things, having come unto my own.

The gaze of a terrified child, amidst a searing sea of flesh. That was the last flash of consciousness Nasira had before that wall of rock that appeared suddenly smashed her unconscious. Within the throbbing pain and the rattled, hazy memories the din of battle still sounded around her - shouting, crunching, the still smoldering embers clinging to the Huntress's body.

Then, silence. An utterance of fear. The cacophony of violence was soon replaced with a vacuum, one which pulled on Nasira's mind to return to the waking world. Vision blurred, spots of color dancing about her eyes, Nasira groaned as she lifted her exhausted and battered body (though still in one piece, thankfully) off the ground, large plates of shattered stone shuffling off her body as she rose. Wincing from the pain in her chest, Nasira took a moment to breathe deep despite the throbbing of her lungs before lifting herself out of the fractured rocks.

The world swayed but slowly, gradually came to a stop as Nasira's senses returned to normal, allowing her to survey the aftermath of the conflict. The mountain of flesh that was the Huntress was all but completely gone, the only sign remaining of it the massive skeleton that lay on the ground, defeated. As for the Huntress herself, the corpse of a small, shockingly frail girl slumped against Masaru's blade, bearing no resemblance to the monstrosities that came before.

So, the Huntress was just a child... She had her suspicions, but seeing the corpse for herself left Nasira feeling disquieted. Even if there were no other choice, even if the only options were fight or die, the death of someone so young, regardless of circumstances, felt to her a tragedy. She wondered, what made all these beastkin rely on one so young, so immature, to lead them to sanctuary and the thrones of the gods. Was she simply born with divine potential? Still, with the others cooling off now that the conflict was finally over, Nasira kept her thoughts to herself.

Dragging her body over to the collapsed captain, Nasira drew a small curtain of smoke before, from it, laying down a cushioned bedroll, resting herself on top it and offering Caitlin a blanket to follow suite. "...I-I believe I'm alright, or rather... just needing time to rest, rather than having any injuries needing mending. Thank you though for offering... Poppy."

Nasira paused and blushed a bit as she realized the cloak she had been using to keep herself hidden had gone up in smoke. She glanced around briefly for any signs of it before sighing - even if anything remained, it would just be charred rags at this point. "Well, you've all already seen me," Nasira muttered quietly to herself.

Captain Holloway

“Whatever you feel is best, darling. I've no qualms with it... I doubt at this point you could hurt me much more anyhow. The pain would likely cancel out,” Caitlin admitted, smiling gratefully towards Poppy at her rather immediate offer to help and briefly reaching up to ruffle her hair with her currently emaciated arm.

“...hmm. We match. Morbid. Ah, well—” she stretched, taking the blanket from Nasira and sighing in exhaustion as she laid upon it. “—much appreciated. All of you. I feel more... trusting of you, I'd say. Overall. Though that may be bias and this raging bloody headache clouding my judgement~”

She allowed herself a crooked smile as she idly looked up at the sky and slowed her breathing, trying to distract herself from her injuries.

“...well, even if so. It's a biased judgment call I think I'm unafraid to make.”

She glanced towards Nasira after a moment, casting her gaze across her form before pursing her lips.

“...I definitely saw you. A very brave, very determined woman willing to sacrifice herself for the sake of giving others a fighting chance. Again, though. Maybe that was only what I saw... but I've a nasty habit of being stubborn about these opinions of mine, I should warn.”

Edited by Enirboreh on Apr 22nd 2021 at 12:54:21 PM

bork

Val

...we did it?

We...killed the Huntress?

We're alive?

Val stared as the Huntress fell, watching her cobbled-together body crumble to nothing. He absently reached over to pinch himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that they'd actually killed a Pretender despite the stacked odds.

Nope. He felt the pain.

They'd done it.

"We won," Val breathed, hardly able to believe it. "We— merde sacrée, we won." He couldn't even laugh, he was so stunned. He felt...lighter, somehow. Like he'd just been freed from chains he didn't know he was trapped in. He let out a soft sigh, slumping forward, propping himself up on his staff—oh, hey, where had the gloves come from—

Then he saw it.

A corpse. A tiny corpse. A tiny, pale corpse.

A child's corpse.

Val's knees suddenly buckled, his staff now the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground. "O-oh...oh..." He'd never had...he'd never killed a child before. He'd killed parents, yes, made dozens of children cry until they physically couldn't. But he'd never...he'd never...

By Atyx, I'm going to hell.

Admittedly, that was nothing new.

Edited by LilyTheLitten on Apr 28th 2021 at 5:53:25 AM

"Kept me waiting, haven’t you? Tch. No matter. Dawdle all you’d like. In the end, your defeat remains inevitable."

As soon as she'd leapt into the air to protect her friends and successfully deflected the Huntress's attack, Sword knew they won. Executing her was just a formality, a deathblow after blowing open her defenses. She didn't even feel the ground come up to meet her as she watched her allies finish the job.

"Good work, team!" Sword barked out, pumping her one good fist. She laid in her body double's lap to keep herself a little more propped up. The pain was slowly filtering back in. "Ah, I think you might have to go on without me though. Arm's busted, dunno how long it'll be till it's okay. Hope the pantheon's accepting latecomers."

Masaru

The shibito kept Genkaen buried in the Huntress' corpse until he was well and truly sure she was dead. A twinge of guilt faintly stirred in his heart at having been fighting a child, ancient novice years once again roused, but he ignored it. Child she may have been, but she had chosen to fight. She was the first to attack, and there was no reasoning with her. It was just another battle, another death of a foe. Some went to war young, some old, it didn't matter, and they died either forgotten or as heroes. But clearly this was not as clean-cut a matter for some, as Val nearly fell, leaning heavy on his staff. He withdrew Genkaen from the Huntress' corpse, habitually flicking off the worst of the gore on the blade in one smooth motion, though he himself was going to need a bath, his pale skin smeared in dirt and blood from his advance.

"Hmph. First time? There's no reason for pity just because she was a child. It was her choice. She was beyond the point of reason anyways, this was a small mercy. It was us or her, like all battles."

He ripped off a piece of cloth from one of the beastmen's attire, using it to wipe more of the blood off the blade as he walked to join the others.

"If this was only the first of the trials we will go up against, her death and face will fade quite soon. Now, let us rest and move on. I have no need to worry about bleeding or infection since I am, after all, dead."

Dyersthel

Rising up from the clouds of dust, flesh strands, and the occasional bone, was a panting traveler.
His figure was much less composed than you had seen it until now. He was trying to catch his breath, still holding his weapon in his hands, his body bruised and black in a number of places. Still, he seemed to be able to bear the pain well enough to move back towards the group.
As he did, and as he got up, you noticed his cloak was quite... in tatters. Ripped to pieces. And as he got up, it fell off.
You could now see his full appearence- his head, with silver hair in a ponytail reaching his shoulders, and the white osseous formations on his head, like some sort of crown embedded in his skull. But perhaps the most curious thing you could see was his torso and back bore quite the number of scars.

And as he saw Masaru standing over the corpse of the little girl, his blade stained of her blood, he realized what had happened, and who it was they killed. A child. A child, seemingly trying to live up to her father's will- if her last words were any indications- commending a flesh golem.
Could she even understand what she was doing?
Could she even understand her evil?
Was there evil? ...They had come there, and slain her. Even if she had attacked first, technically, were they not the invaders?
—But that's just par for the course for you, isn't it?
—Wandering traveler, slayer of innocents, running away from your sin.
—Isn't that what you've always done?

He looked down. He heard the others around him speak. He said nothing. He dropped to one knee, not even raising his face. Unresponsive, even. He did not move from there.

Edited by DarknessAwaits on May 3rd 2021 at 11:21:44 AM

Val

...no reason for pity just because she was a child...

...it was her choice...

...this was a small mercy...

For several long seconds, Val did not say anything.

Then, he lifted his head up to glare at Masaru, gaze so cold it could've frozen the sun. "Have you...no shame?! No regret?! It was a child! How can you be so— so blasé over killing a child?!"

"Kept me waiting, haven’t you? Tch. No matter. Dawdle all you’d like. In the end, your defeat remains inevitable."

Without her cloak, Nasira's bashful self was in full view, something she was painfully aware of. At Caitlin's compliments Nasira turned her whole body a full ninety degrees away, unaccustomed to praise. She supposed that was just in the pirate captain's nature but centuries of servitude made her humility hard to shake. Unable to think of any proper words to respond back to her, Nasira just nodded while doing her best to hide her reddened expression.

Breathe... take things one step at a time, one step at a time, the djinn reminded herself. After taking a breath, Nasira opened her lips, trying to think of something to say, only to witness Val collapse, the weight of what killing the Huntress truly meant falling suddenly upon him. She was surprised, in some small sense, having seen Val's glee in the crippling and maiming the patchwork beastmen in stark contrast with his vulnerability now. But it also wasn't too surprising - the slaying of a monster only for it to transform into an emaciated young girl at death would disturb most anyone, she felt.

And thus Masaru spoke up to prove himself the exception, turning Val's despair into ice cold fury. But there was something in the shibito's words... some contradictions in his reasoning.

"You are from... Nenmochi, correct?" Nasira asked Masaru, trying to remember the scarce fragments of information he shared with everyone. "I know little about the country, but its realm, Onogoro, has seen much warfare, hasn't it? I can understand why you'd be numb to the sight of death, even that of a child. Especially so, since as you said you are dead yourself."

But beneath the numb, deadened exterior, is there still regret? Empathy? Hidden, but aching to be noticed?

"I agree that in this case it was us or her, but not all battles need end that way. Perhaps I can only say that because I have had the luxury of a peaceful life. But if you felt it was a mercy, then you must have felt pity. If you believed she was beyond reason, then she would not truly have had the freedom to choose. You may act cold, but those are the words of someone looking for an excuse to deaden their heart. As for myself, I will hold no such excuses."

Despite what aches remained in her body, Nasira stood up, taking the blanket she sat on and offering it to Val to rest. "If you say her death and face will fade, then I will choose to remember. I will pay proper dues to the dead. Because I am still alive. And because I am alive, because I can rest, I have the luxury to mourn."

With that said, Nasira made her way back into the tower. Moments later, she laid the bodies of the deceased family down, next to the fallen beastmen and sleeping Huntress. She went back, and gathered everything she could that would burn. She went back, and brought back the planks of the door - there were no hunters left to seek shelter from. She went about gathering however much or however little kindling she could find, covering the dead with the cloths and blankets of the refugees. Ultimately they were all refugees trying to seek some form of better life, Nasira thought to herself, though she didn't say the words. Plank by plank, branch by branch, without another word, Nasira began to build a pyre - taking out a book when she tired, writing what notes she could about the Shard and its inhabitants, so even if she forgot, there would still be some record.

And so she continued on.

Edited by Starbound2 on May 3rd 2021 at 8:02:39 AM

Captain Holloway

“...”

Caitlin was silent as Nasira spoke her piece to Valentin, seeming to stare down at the floor in a distant manner—either feeling guilt over her own flippant air regarding the fact they'd killed a child, or feeling empty over the lack of guilt felt.

Either way, as she watched Nasira begin to build her pyre, she felt an odd choke escaping her throat—blinking away sudden tears, and promptly getting up as she rubbed her larynx and finally moved over to Nasira.

There it is.

“...Admirable. Leave some room for me to help, now...” she decided, giving the djinn a faint smile before looking cluelessly at the pyre. “I... oh, gods, I've never built one of these before...”

Most bodies were just tossed overboard. Others were buried where they fell. Some were burnt, if they were tainted or wished as such... but she'd never built a pyre herself. It got to her in a way that she didn't expect, adding to this sudden retroactive guilt—and once she steadied her breathing again, she pursed her lips and looked between the others a moment before gesturing towards the pyre.

“...ahem. So, how can I help...?”

bork