Noting the fireball's effectiveness, Zod blasted his heat vision in a wide sweeping arc across the Leviathan's body.
The Mighty Pen
Jack was about to ask if Icarax could set his sword on fire, that he might take the fight to the enemy with greater effectiveness, but then he saw the attack arcing in at them.
"Look out!" he shouted.
A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. -Lao Tzu
Flandre rotated the burning blade above her head to block any of the goo from falling on her and looked up. She blinked at the bulb-headed thing that came down towards her and swung the flaming blade at it.
A deep, bass roar rumbled forth from the torso-creature's bulb, and the air shimmered and rippled about its hands like a mirage as it brought them forward to intercept the blade of Lavateinn. The fiery sword came to an abrupt halt less than an inch from the creature's distended palms, as though it had struck an invisible wall, and at the same time its arms bent at the elbows as though it were trying to hold off a sudden and tremendous force. It began to push against the swing, arms visibly straining as it held the sword in place, and tongues of smoke wafted from the air near its palms as the rippling effect gradually wore down; clearly, it would not be able to hold the vampire's strike back for long.
Yet it didn't need to keep Flandre's swing at bay forever; a few seconds would be enough. Again the torso creature loosed that bone-shudderingly low roar as the petals of its bulb slowly began to peel back, revealing a ghastly flower with a gaping, tooth-rimmed orifice at its heart. The youthful vampire would feel large amounts of wind blowing past her head from behind as the creature drew in a deep, greedy breath of air which lasted for several seconds and cast her hair about like a windstorm; as it inhaled, an ominous purple light began to build within the depths of its toothy maw, as though it were preparing for an extremely powerful attack of some sort...
The leviathan howled in pain and anger as Zod's heat vision blasted a deep furrow across its back, snapping a few of its quills in half and causing rancid ichor to seep up from this wound. One of its quills rotated to face the Kryptonian general, and in retaliation it shot towards him at such a great speed that the mighty barb broke the sound barrier. The Danse Macabre Codex
Flandre grinned as she put the pressure on, applying her vampire strength to Lavatein to try and break the creature's guard. The blade glowed red for a second as it started letting off fireballs in all directions.
edited 25th May '11 1:02:12 PM by Oni-Lord
Did you know this section has a character limit?
Sec screamed when the blade bit into his flesh.
A Dalek scream is horrendous, a mixture of the mutant and the casing, a horrible mish-mash of machine and mutation.
Sec went unconcious for a minute or two there.
When he awoke, something was different.
"Hello there Doctor, how are you today?"
I'm Back Bitches (not really)
"What the... But Davros removes all sense of politeness when he makes you Daleks... That shouldn't even be..."
To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy
Did you know this section has a character limit?
"I'm afraid I have received cranial damage. My cerebral lobe was damaged by the sword, which had the knock-on effect of causing my personality to become the opposite of what it was. I'm also blind."
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
I'm Back Bitches (not really)
"But you need that stuff to be able to switch to it! Davros forcibly removed it! That's like if I stabbed a Cybermen and they suddenly became emotional. IT DOESN'T WORK."
To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy
Did you know this section has a character limit?
"Davros didn't make me. I am a mutated human, created by the Dalek Emperor. You should know trace emotions exist in Daleks."
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
I'm Back Bitches (not really)
"MUTATED HUMAN!? But you Daleks didn't put Earth in the Time War! Trust me I'd know!"
To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy
Spriggan went to work on dressing up his head, although a bit slow using his uninjured hand.
Did you know this section has a character limit?
"Dalek numbers dwindled Doctor. We had to mutate other races to survive. Humans were available in the early stages, when it was the Daleks vs The Doctor."
They do have medals for almost, and they're called silver!
I'm Back Bitches (not really)
"Why would Davros pick humans for his black-ops team early in the war before it offically started and he could make them?"
edited 25th May '11 2:46:37 PM by Fusionman
To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy
SoCal Slacker
Kimimaro stood, guard lowering slightly. All the Morlocks were dead, and he had nothing that could cause notable harm to the Leviathan. He stood near Dr. Langley, and his head was on a swivel for any future incursions into the vehicle.
Bendy Slendy in Upendi. Also, check out my fic
Bolas took the hint from the flying spikes, perturbed that the creature sought to mar his proud wings, but ultimately it was but a fleshwound; though perhaps he would have been struck from the skies, his group-wide flight enchantment never wore off, and he transitioned to using those powers to assist him easily.
He saw Jack's efforts, and decided to provide the means
for the Samurai to fly himself, and further empowering his attacks and speed. Then seeing the creature charge up, he prepared to reflect and redouble the attack back at it, hopefully that could be the killing blow.
Lord of Shadows
The bone shrapnel quivered a bit, then began to dislodge themselves and began to gather together.
Someone should be able to see this happening, as it wasn't very subtle.
To be seen, stand up To be heard, speak up To be appreciated, shut up
I'm Back Bitches (not really)
The Doctor points. "What is that?"
To Be Updated when I'm not Lazy
Another low, reverberative rumble escaped the torso-thing's maw as it struggled to keep Flandre's blade at bay; the aura of rippling air around its palms had all but abated, and the flesh of its hands and wrists was beginning to bubble and boil from the heat of being in such close proximity to the fiery length of Lavateinn, and with every passing second the young vampire forced its arms closer and closer to the main portion of its body. The little fireballs her blade was spewing were certainly not making the creature's already-daunting task any easier; though most of them struck and dissipated against what remained of that strange, rippling air effect which protected its hands, others slipped through to burst violently against its arms and chest, blackening and burning its flesh at every point of impact and leaving flames which lingered malignantly on its foul body.
The umbilical guardian was fighting a losing battle against the young vampire, to be sure, and doubtless some part of its mind—assuming it had one to begin with—must have realized that fact; yet still it struggled on, fighting desperately to keep her at bay and in so doing protect that one vulnerable patch of the mighty leviathan's underside. The purple light at the back of its mouth continued to grow and intensify, brightening into an unholy violet radiance until it seemed as though some manner of diminutive, evil star were flaring at full radiance right in Flandre's face, and the air around the two was rippling and seething with the raw, utterly unfathomable power accumulating within that tiny point of vile purple light.
With a scream like the damned being ripped apart in some dark and vile hell, a beam of raw destructive energy—narrower than Flandre's head, yet so impossibly bright that it could be seen for miles in all directions and which would have immediately drawn the undivided attention of all in the vicinity—erupted from the gaping maw of the torso-thing's flower bulb head and streaked towards Flandre's face—
just as Bolas' spell took effect.
Amplified and reflected by the enchantment cast upon Flandre, the beam tripled in width and slammed into the umbilical guardian, which was utterly vapourised within an eyeblink. Yet the beam was not done; it kept flying straight back up the umbilical tether which had connected the torso-thing to the underside of the leviathan, obliterating this sinnuous appendage without losing any force or speed whatsoever. It then struck the one unprotected spot on the great manta's belly, and the creature let out a low, mournful low of pain and defeat as the ray blew an utterly massive hole through its chest clear from the underside to the top.
And still the beam kept going, a violet pillar of light and death which could not be stopped as it rocketed towards the pitch darkness of the starless heavens, utterly heedless of anything foolish enough to interpose itself between the purple ray and its ultimate destination. Unfortunately for all concerned, this included Bolas; the Elder Dragon had no time to react at all before the beam punched a hole large enough to hold a small car through his diaphragm and spinal cord, nearly cutting him in two somewhere between his hips and ribcage.
And still it continued to rise, not stopping until it trailed off into the darkness and was lost from sight; scant seconds later, the landscape was briefly illuminated as a vast, cross-shaped nova flared somewhere just beyond the atmosphere. What effect this beam would have had had the full extent of its destructive power been released upon the challengers could only be guessed at, but in all likelihood it would have been catastrophic—for the planet, if not themselves.
Stricken by this ungodly powerful attack, the manta's body plummeted towards the forest canopy like a blimp whose balloon had been punctured; it rapidly lost physical cohesion as it fell, and by the time its ruins landed upon and smote the tree tops it had been reduced to little more than a veritable flood of black ooze.
On the upper deck of the spinnerbus, Ravage could do little more than stare up at the heavens and gawp, blinking rapidly to reset his optics and get the afterimage of that explosion scoured from his retinas. That had been...unexpected, to say the least. The Danse Macabre Codex
The Mighty Pen
Jack had just persuaded Icarax to let him fly under his own, if borrowed, power, and was scanning to see what the most vulnerable part of the creature might be when the attack happened. One moment, there was darkness. The next, there was blinding light, so bright that Jack turned away, shielding his eyes against the searing brightness that exploded upwards from the leviathan. The shockwave sent him tumbling head over heels in the air, his vision still a red-black mess and his weeping eyes clamped firmly shut. Then the explosion shook the skies. By the time Jack brought himself to a halt and dared to squint out at the world, the light had faded and the leviathan was dissolving, falling away. Jack gaped, astonished at the degree of destruction that had been wrought. None of the champions could have done that. The first thing that came to mind was a reflected attack. But if that was true...he shuddered at the idea of such a weapon being employed against the planet. Washington was mad, whether blatantly or subtly he could not guess, but no sane person would consider such creatures needful.
Still blinking to rid his vision of the aftereffects, he flew for Bolas' stricken form, not knowing what he could do to help, but attempting to keep the vast dragon in the air through sheer force of will and the flying enchantment. He noted with some relief on the way that the spinner had survived as well.
A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. -Lao Tzu
Spriggan heard the explosions as he went half way to dress up his wound.
"Shit... I'm half wounded and this happens."
Lord of Shadows
The bony shrapnel seem to be constructing somnething...
To be seen, stand up To be heard, speak up To be appreciated, shut up
Bolas hadn't been injured to such an extent for a great while, and it took him by surprise. The physical damage was immense. He mentally berated himself for overlooking how powerful the attack could be, but ultimately- save some completely unnecessary time travel- it no longer mattered. His Spark was undamaged so he still lived, though not quite in the traditional sense of vital signs or other medical definitions.
He was beyond medical definitions of 'life' anyway.
The artifact in the bus in Rey's possession glowed brighter still; the pure white light radiated raw untapped energies of life, justice, and good. None of this mattered, the fact it was simply light probably did harm to the shadows Rey fought. It didn't remain untapped for long, at any rate.
Bolas cast a single spell three times, triggering the three different effects the item thus triplicated could produce, seeking to save his failing body. The redirect spell he cast wasn't aimed at himself but coincidentally, so the counter did absolutely nothing. However his body was fully healed and a slight protection was granted to him to remain so unharmed for awhile yet.
The dragon hung in place for several moments, re-orienting himself. Blast that Jeska and her restructuring of the multiverse! He wouldn't be inconvenienced by physical upkeep at all if it weren't for the silly means by which she fixed reality...
edited 25th May '11 7:35:26 PM by SOCR
How can you be in two places at once when you're not anywhere at all?
Dr. Langley had glanced skyward as well, staring up at the fading sight of the cross-shaped explosion with a look of horror on her face. "Good God," she whispered, slowly shaking her head back and forth as though she were trying to guess just how much damage such a blast could have done to the planet itself. Even though she had seen it with her own eyes, the scientist still found it all but impossible to believe that any 'living' thing could possess such vast destructive power, especially without the aid of technology; that explosion had made the detonation of a nuclear warhead look utterly trivial in comparison, and she found herself hoping fervently that, unlike the rest of those creatures, the leviathan had been unique—the alternative was simply too horrific to contemplate.
Now that the fiery white cross of the explosion had begun to abate, Langley realized that it was no longer safe to look up at the sky and so returned her gaze to the steering yoke and the path ahead; as she did so, a small part of her, what little of her detached and analytical mindset which remained in the wake of this night's revelations and madness, wondered precisely why the creature's blast had detonated in such a shape—and why she found the sight of it familiar on some subtle level.
Such thoughts led down the path of nightmares, alas, and the red-headed scientist would not willingly walk down those particular corridors of her mind; hoping for something—anything—to distract herself, she mentally began to review the events of the last few frantic minutes. Shortly an idea presented itself, and she latched onto it with the tenacity and fervor of a drowning woman clinging to a buoy in storm-wracked waters; a few moments later, and she had spotted a suitable landing zone.
Nodding to herself, Aska glanced over her shoulder at the other members of the group. "Before we can go any further, we have a few things to take care of," she announced. "That blast probably caused a tremendous amount of interference up in orbit, which means that the Damocles can't track us at the moment; for all anyone knows, we could have been killed when it fired. When the interference abates, however, Washington is going to know that we survived and he's going to know exactly where we are; as such, we need to take steps to ensure that we can proceed under the radar."
Turning around to face the right way again, she began to gently angle the yoke so that the spinnerbus would nose downward and come in for a landing. "I'm going to put us down in that clearing here, and once I've done that I'm going to see if I can find whatever attachments are being used to track us and remove or disable them. It'll take some time, so feel free to get some rest; we've had a long day, and we still have a ways to go."
Minutes later, the spinnerbus set down at the edge of a fairly large clearing more than a hundred feet in diameter; lush trees of all sorts crowded around this silent expanse from all sides, and the air was filled with sounds both familiar and alien; the distant calls of birds and insects drifted by on the wind, mingling freely with odd whooping calls and faded snores that literally were indistinguishable from the buzzing blades of a buzz saw. The air was humid here, and thick with the heady scent of life; it appeared that those monstrous entities had spared the forest their predations, at least for the moment.
Once their landing procedures had been completed, Dr. Langley opened the doors and switched off the motor; she left the bus' lights on, for safety's sake, but even so they did not cover a particularly large area of the clearing. Sighing faintly, the red-headed scientist removed her lab coat and walked over to the front of the bus, kneeling before it and tapping at its surface in order to open up the hood.
"This will take some time," she said to no one in particular, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she went to work. "If one of your group can disguise the bus with some of your...talents, for lack of a better word...it would be greatly appreciated. Also, we'll need to get a fire going; snap to it, ladies and gentlemen—there's kindling all around you."
Ravage climbed out of the bus, blaster drawn and held out as he swept the clearing with his gaze. The landing zone appeared to be clear, but he was not about to let his guard down; anything could hap—
He growled, swinging the gun off towards the far edge of the clearing. Someone had been standing there between two trees, barely visible at the limits of the headlights' cone of radiance; it had looked like a human protoform, an adolescent female perhaps, but he had no time to discern any more details. In the nanoklik it had taken the Predacon to take aim at this intruder, she had disappeared.
Unnerved by this strange occurrence, the transmetal panther busied himself with patrolling the clearing's perimeter and keeping watch.
The Danse Macabre Codex
As Flandre flew up towards the leviathan's belly from below, the massive creature's frantically-scrabbling legs abruptly stopped flailing about like mad and folded together, interlocking with one another in a rib-like shield which covered all but a very small portion of its vulnerable underside. As she drew closer, the young vampire would be able to see that a huge blister of sorts was swelling into existence at that very spot, starting off small yet growing and expanding at a truly obscene pace, and when she was no more than fifty or forty feet from her target this blistered ruptured in a shower of rancid black ichor, a noxious rain of pitch which threatened to drench Flandre in a corrosive and painful wash of vile effluvia.
Yet foul and caustic puss were not the only things which had been disgorged when the blister ruptured; even as Flandre had to contend with this stinging, burning precipitation, an emaciated torso with a pair of unnaturally long and thin arms emerged from the weeping sore that was the only exposed point on the leviathan's body, swaying gently like a reed in the breeze. It extended from its fleshy prison on a sinnuous tether resembling a mottled grey umbilical cord and snaked towards Flandre, its arms unfolding and stretching outward as though to ward her off; as it drew closer, the young vampire would be able to see that it had no head—where a skull should have sat, this torso sported the closed bulb of some enormous flower...
The leviathan itself barely reacted as the lightning bolt smote its back, letting out a deep and reverberative groan of annoyance as several thousand volts of electricity slammed into the midst of its quills to leave a few blackened and burnt. Despite the seeming lack of effect this attack had had on the beast, it had succeeded in capturing its attention; tilting itself slightly to one side so that they were positioned before its mouth, the gargantuan manta spat out a hissing wad of vile effluvia which arced towards Icarax and his passenger with remarkable speed.
The fireball, by contrast, got more of a reaction; lowing in pain and agitation, the leviathan staggered briefly under the impact and loosed a loud trill as the flames began to spread gradually across its back.
The Danse Macabre Codex