The Dark Ages [Dark Data]

[Okor]

The seat creaked beneath his weight, now-tarnished wood screaming in defiance of the mounting pressure of the pestilent paladin. Two hands that were little more than a thin veneer of leathery skin atop a seething swarm of symbiotic insects raised a steaming pie to his maw, thin tendrils of steam rising into the jagged chasm that stood in for his nostrils. What remained of his olfactory senses remained were alight.

Syrup-drenched fruits, sugar in such excess that it formed its own crystalline continents beneath the surface, the ineffable element of love.

Blood and Fire.

The distinct sounds of the hunter’s arm-cannon resonated through the big-top, only to be drowned out by Okor’s sigh as his feast was denied, the pie held in his hands falling to the table, flaky crust breaking apart as sliced apples slid from the pulverized pastry, aloft on a tide of syrup. He rose, claws carpeted by the carapaces of a thousand ravenous parasites, the decrepit flesh of their host no longer sufficient.

”Well, let’s do this, then.”

One of the brutes seated at the table lunged towards him, fatty flesh and muscle crushing any remains of civility beneath his bulk as pastries evaporated into a fine pulp of crust and filling, smeared across a too-tight tunic. Fists the size of ham joints careened towards his ruined face, a crack of bone impacting bone echoing throughout the tent as all fell silent. Strands of sickly white blood dripped from his maw as his head slowly  turned back to face his attacker, every inch of his flesh wriggling as a manic grin formed upon his festering face.

A hungering claw lashed out in return, wrapping itself around the back of the once-mighty man’s head, some of the seething mass of symbiotes jumping ship, swarming the unfortunate’s skull even as it was driven through the table, splinters flying in the air as the crowd within the tent began to move. Screams and shouts reverberated through the tent as the huddled masses of humanity charged forward, daggers drawn and clutched in clenched fists. A roar of rage drowned out their din as his own fists hammered down, sending lesser men crumpling to the ground beneath, his stride unimpeded by the knives clattering off his ceramite armour or slicing through his leathery skin.

The Jester that had hosted the event capered towards him, a club painted with a grin held in one hand, a sickle slick with a dark, purplish fluid held in the other. The fool leapt over the heads of the horde, curved blade descending in an arc towards the marine’s bared throat.

“Leaving so soon? But you’ve barely even scratched the crust of our little competition!”

The sickle sunk inside, its acidic coating hissing and sizzling as it burnt at dessicated flesh, maggots and stranger writhing in pain as they melted under its caress. A smile spread across the Jester’s face, eyes too focused on the devastation his alchemy had wrought to notice the claws wrapping around their arm.
With a jolt, they jester was pulled away, the blade still lodged in the marine’s neck as he went about his bloody work. With the familiar crack of bones and a disquieting slorp, the fool’s arm came free in a spray of gore, the remainder of the body being sent careening into the crowd, the severed appendage already starting to feed the worms even as it cracked an approaching assailant over the head.

Move. Strike. Bleed. Break. Crush.

Okor could fight in his sleep: a swarm of peasants armed with slivers of steel held no threat, and the poison eating away at his flesh was doing so at a noticeably slower pace than his own host of parasites. There was nothing here that could challenge hi-

This train of thought was interrupted by a solid thunk. The hilt of a truly titanic axe struck the earth, its massively obese wielder holding it in a single hand, their eyes reduced to pinpricks of purple light, a permanent piggish squint. “Boss-man sez you gotta get chopped up. Ruined plenty pies. You’s gonna be made into more.” The brute hefted the axe, slowly striding towards the septic soldier, sunlight streaming in through the top of the tent glinting off their shining blade.

He was summoned. He could not delay aiding his allies in favour of duelling some hapless brute. His hunger burned within his gut, writhing, gnawing, like a thousand thousand barbed lashes driving him deeper down this bloody path.

Skin split. Bones broke and reshaped themselves, fossilized ribcages stretching wide, tearing what remained of his stomach apart as the seething morass of maggots and fleshy tendrils within lashed out, Nebula’s minions fully exercising what little capacity for terror they possessed, screams echoing throughout the tent.

”You wanted me to eat?”

A maw packed with tainted teeth, bared in a devilish grin. One eye, mad with hunger. A nigh-infinite amount of lesser lifeforms that would nonetheless outlive all other species. Perhaps three dozen prey left standing.

One possible outcome. Death cries competed with a guttural roar for auditory domination, the latter winning out by pure virtue of being the only sound save the dripping of blood and the splash of greaves through sanguine pools of gore after a few seconds.

Okor emerged from the entrance to the tent, ragged flaps of flesh covering the hollow of his stomach, crimson staining his armour, a slowly expanding line of acidic erosion spreading from the Jester’s blow. His companions fought against the other peasants, their attachment to their mortal flesh denying them the somewhat lax approach to self-preservation the Corrupted Crusader could indulge in.

He backhanded a screaming zealot away from him, sending them sprawling to the cobblestones, knife clattering to the ground as shimmering streams of Omnillium wrapped around his arm, coalescing in his palm. A flash of iridescent light followed as it extended, grew, and reshaped, filth and decay consuming it as what was once pure, ever-changing potential devolved into a solid mass of rusted Iron.

The Pestilent Paragon stumbled forward, raising the hammer as it began its inevitable arc towards the solid oaken gates of the castle, the locks upon it still awaiting the approval of the contest’s officiants.

Entropy waited for no man, however. Gripping the shaft in both near-skeletal hands, servomotors within his armour screaming in rage alongside him, he brought the hammer down upon the sealed portal, warp energies coruscating around the head as it descended.

Gigaton Hammer used for 2 order points. Requesting a summary of our order points next update, if possible, please.

[Nebula]

By the time Okor had got to the gates of the Nebula Castle, his companions were there already. Judging by the mob of villagers that followed behind them, everyone kind of silently knew each other was the cause. They had be given an opportunity to take part of a festival, but nobody really played along. Thanks to the actions of Samus and then Okor himself, it was brute strength that won out. Neither of them wanted to actually 'play along' with whatever was going on here. They had seen enough of Nebula's work at play to trust anything they actually saw in this realm.

Samus Aran, Hiro Protagonist and Madotsuki were standing in front of the massive wooden gate, debating the best way to get through it. Just as they were coming to a conclusion, that was when Okor brought his hammer down. The gates smashed forward as if they were paper being blown about by a whirling fan. The power that he put his attack on the large doorway was probably a little more then he needed. He looked at his companions, and then back at the villagers making their way towards them. "We should go," he said simply, and led the pack inwards.

When they stepped foot inside the castle proper, they were greeted by another set of large doors, though these didn't seem to be locked. The room itself was bare. It was like the entrance hall to the castle in Camelot, except with the fancy decorations like banners or carpets. They were no knights here. Nobody greeted them.

The foursome stepped forward, into the right. It was Hiro who looked behind them and noticed it first. "They're gone," he announced. Everyone turned to confirm. The crowd of corrupted peasants that had been following down the village was gone. Like they weren't there to begin with.

It was at that moment that the middle of the floor opened up. Madotsuki was the only one who was positioned away from the random trap door. The large stone-slab that Samus, Hiro and Okor had all been standing on suddenly opened swallowed them whole.

Samus, Hiro and Okor have fallen into the Dark Castle's Labyrinth. Depending on the person, the place and illusions faced will be different. The illusions that speak to them will formally challenge them to complete this maze and then they will be allowed to re-join their companions and fight the Black Knight in fair combat. The illusions will not fight the characters directly, only taunt them. Win and he will give up the Nebula Space, lose and the group must embrace the corruption.

Okor's Labyrinth is a dark sewer system. In addition to gross swamp-thing monsters, the 'illusion' that will speak to him is the scary clown from the village. He will attempt to degrade Okor and threaten to lock him up where he belongs, in the sewers.

Samus' Labyrinth is a hedge maze, except the roof is covered just like the walls, so she can't see the sky. She is still in Predator Form. She will face zombified-versions of the villagers from earlier. The illusion that will guide her is the Watcher from the festival. He will ridicule her from putting herself in this position, by not agreeing to participate in peaceful games.

Hiro's Labyrinth is a medieval castle. He will face darkling knights. The illusion that will speak to him is that of the Black Knight himself, who is decked in heavy ebon armor. He will declare Hiro as the leader of this group and attempt to lure him to his side with a powerful darkchip.

The group has 13 Order Points left. As a reminder, this is your shared pool of SP from now until you leave Nebula Space. You have one week to write one roleplay (no word limit), but if you're all done early then I will move us forward early.

[Okor]

The earth crumbled beneath his tread, claws flailing out, seeking the succor of stable stone, only to be denied as his diseased bulk fell, tumbling into darkness, his allies slipping deeper into the shadow and out of sight. He snarled as he turned, attempting to view his fate, only to see the infinite blackness rising up to meet him, a scream of defiance cut short by the enveloping darkness suffocating any hopes of awareness.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Tainted water fell from a rusted grille above the crumpled heap of maggots, rotten meat, and corroded metal, a steady stream upon the helmet wiping away the bloodstains so recently applied. One eye opened, crusted by pus and dried blood, tinged crimson by millennia of hatred and infection, looking out at the surroundings. Greenish water flowed around him, flakes of rust joining the less easily discernible debris in the almost-stagnant stream, the water serving to feed flourishing colonies of moss and algae along stone walls, untouched by light.

A seething mass of symbiotes, clinging tightly to a skeletal hand stripped clean of flesh, reached out, writhing worms picking the rotten revenant off the ground, steadying him against the side of the sewer as he stumbled along on partially skeletonized legs. What little flesh remained on his bones was concealed by his ancient armour, the aegis that had protected his flesh, if not his soul, for the entirety of The Long War.

“Awake at last, hm?”

Okor turned, his head turning just a bit too quickly than his flesh should have allowed. A wraith floated before him, a blank mask daubed with a bloody smile, topped with a hat adorned with skull-shaped bells. One arm floated by its side, an inch apart from a ragged, ethereal stump.

“And here I was hoping that you’d save everyone the trouble and have the decency to die down here.”

”No… Such luck.” His voice had adopted a buzzing rasp, his immeasurable host only growing with every moment. He lashed out with his blade, the rusted tip passing harmlessly through the phantasmal fool, releasing an ear-piercing screech as it glided across the sewage-slick stones behind the illusion.

“Resorting to violence already?” Laughed the jester, passing through him as it came to rest behind his shoulder, the crimson grin painted across its ivory mask smiling at him from the corner of his vision. “Death made you, Okor. It took your life on Barbarus, and used you to sow itself across the galaxy. Again, and again, you’ve propagated the cycle: You killed to raise an empire that sought to kill you. You killed to steal a kingdom, and now you kill to save one. When will it end?”

”When Nurgle declares it to be so,” grunted the marine, tearing his blade free from the wall as he began to splash down the sullied stream, the odd maggot falling from his writhing mass into the waste-water.

“Nurgle, Nurgle, Nurgle…” The fool floated past him, level against the ground, one arm propping up their head as its severed counterpart floated idly along with the wraith. “You know, it’s the funniest thing. Apart from a crazed cult lurking in the sewers of Darkshire, I don’t think a single being in the Omniverse knows his name.”

”Yet,” he snarled, bones swaddled in his ever-hungering symbiotes gliding across the stone as he peered into the darkness, his ethereal tormentor providing a dim glow that only seemed to serve to highlight the darkness.

Laughter seemed to surround him, from every angle came demented giggling, the waters around him sloshing and shifting. “Nothing but death and pain follows in your wake, Okor. Fiara? Broken and left behind in Dante’s Abyss. The Gorons you were pledged to save from Volvagia? Burnt and cast out into the wastes. Darkshire? Its most vulnerable given an eternity of pain and suffering to march through. Everything you touch turns to ash.” Masses of pallid flesh and tentacles wobbled forth from the shadows, multiple toothed orifices dripping corrosive fluid. “This is where you belong, beast of buboes and woe. Locked beneath the earth, far from the innocent lives you have yet to ruin.”

Okor snarled, a hand of maggots and malice grasping a tentacular limb from a mutated beast, throwing it into the stone wall, its already-tenuous form splattering into a fleshy paste. ”I am a man!” He drove his blade downwards, skewering another monster as he pressed onwards. ”My hate!" Another creature rose above him, its underside little more than a hungering maw the size of a man, lined with needle-like fangs. He pressed forward, teeth sinking into his pauldron as he shoulder-checked it against the masonry, whatever internal organs it possessed rupturing upon impact. ”My ambition!” He howled as he stomped downwards, the skin-bag of meat and teeth splattering into a fine red mist. A tentacle lashed out, skewering the increasingly abused flesh of his abdomen, writhing within his tortured innards. Okor leaned forward, grasping onto the tentacle with a hand made of ravenous parasites. ”... My love.” A tide poured forth from his decrepit form, rats fleeing a sinking ship as the horde consumed its newest host, the monster squealing as it disappeared under the tide. ”I am more human than any other in this realm could claim to be! I live, I die, I live again, eternal and undaunted!”

He paused, panting as what little remained of his opponents dripped down from the walls. ”You can taunt and lie and scheme and deride all you like. But you cannot change me. You cannot stop me. I... cannot stop me. All that I am, and all that I will be is sworn in service to The End of all things.” He reached down, grabbing a still-squirming abomination, slamming it against a raised stone in the wall, every impact eliciting another twisted squeal, another splash of blackened blood. ”I am cancer. I am death. I am the rot at the heart of creation.” What little remained of his latest victim fell to the floor. In its stead, he raised a maggot-made fist, the stench of fresh air and fresher flesh tantalizingly close. ”I am birth. I am growth. I am the life that blooms from what remains of that which came before.”

He slammed his fist down, the stone sliding deeper into its slot, its surface cracking as mechanisms began to grind within the wall.

”Now open wide and let. Me. In.”

[Samus Aran]

Samus fell – she’d been ready for a trap, and instantly launched her grapple beam upwards towards the entrance of the trapdoor. It connected, but pulled away, eliciting black liquid.

And so the ground it was. But luckily for Samus, there were no spikes or lava waiting below. Just soft dirt. She landed softly, the air itself seeming to cushion her as she fell.

That sealed it, then. The Black Knight was as arrogant as he sounded.

All the more reason, then, to avoid the dark power her allies had been so eager to borrow of. She’d always suspected, but now it was seemingly obvious – the dark power was as big of a trap as anything they faced on their way to the core of this pocket verse. They wanted people to use it. Fire versus fire. And let the fire spread.

As she stood up, eyes scanning the environment, Samus touched the breastplate of her suit. The one dark chip she’d taken was still locked away in there. As a last resort. Should she destroy it now?

A laugh interrupted her thoughts. The Watcher.

The bounty hunter sighed, as the old man shimmered into sight before her. As casually as one offers a hand in greeting, Samus thrust a foot into the old man’s mouth. It passed straight through, carrying the hunter to the other side of the apparition. She turned with a wry expression. “Worth a shot.”

The Watcher laughed again. “Nothing phases you, does it, my lady?”

Samus backed off, keeping her gun trained on the phantom enemy. “No.”

She turned and took off into the maze.

It was a hedge maze. Samus immediately pined for the loss of her x-ray visor’s full functionality, flipping it on just to see – worthless. Wherever she was, it was totally separate from where the others were being confined – she’d teleported or perhaps entered a new pocket of sub-space. Great, the hunter found herself thinking. At the very least, she didn’t have to worry about her allies – there was no point. They would make it or they wouldn’t.

The hedges didn’t go up to the ceiling, but Samus knew that trying to jump over would not help. There was probably some dark force-field or something or other, but better to check, she supposed.

She jumped, keeping one hand over her head to brace for that forcefield.

Thud.

Yep. These darkphiles were arrogant, but not entirely stupid – at least the maze designer wasn’t. Why was everywhere she visited always some kind of labyrinth?

Samus hit the ground and kept running. She was coming to the end of a long corridor, which ended up leading to the right. Doubtless there was gonna be something around the corner. Easy moments always led up to difficult moments. That was also something Samus had learned.

Samus stopped before the corner and took a peek.

Zombies.

The hunter honestly could have turned her palms up in mock-disbelief, but didn’t. She was too grateful to be facing such an easy foe.

She rounded the corner and ran, firing as she did so. Men – women – even the children. The hunter only hesitated for a moment before the latter. Then she gunned them down too. These weren’t people that might-or-might-not be cured. She didn’t even know if they were real. The damned old man hadn’t been. Judging by what they’d seen so far, in and out of dark space, the power of Nebula didn’t leave much outside of possibility. All the more reason to destroy it, now and forever.

A sucking-clicking noise filled the air. At first Samus thought it was some monster, the next challenge to gun down. But then she realised it was the Watcher’s voice, amplified, and the sound had been him tutting. “So easily you gun down these innocent villagers, these children! Would it not have been easier to simply play my little game?”

Samus used the walls of the corridor as footing, jumping between them to both dodge the zombies’ swipes and rapidly ping-pong through the maze. The Watcher?

Fucking ignored.

Some time passed before the old man piped up again. “You ah … don’t care to prove your points? I thought Samus Aran was a warrior. Someone who respected morality.”

“Yeah, I am.” Samus took a moment to reaffirm. “That’s exactly why I need you to shut up.”

The Watcher’s voice took on an angrier tone. “You won’t listen, you won’t diplomatize – and this is your reward! Dealing with a maze full of angry zombies, and I could help, you know! I could get you through the maze!” In the corner of her eye, Samus could almost see the Watcher, hands spread in frustration, like one trying to lead a horse to water.

Samus took the head off another zombie, and continued on. By this point the Watcher’s voice had started to take on blatantly inhuman qualities. It warped and morphed as his anger rose.

All this time, she hadn’t happened upon the real weakness of Nebula’s forces, but now she was realising it like a slap in the face. In exchange for all that power, the minions of Nebula?

Not incredibly smart.

None of them had been. Strong, yes. Indescribably strong. But nothing came free in this world.

Now she just had to escape this damned maze.

She turned another corner, aware that her muscles were beginning to feel leaden. Despite the power suit’s augmentation, movement was still movement – and she’d been moving all day. She recognised this not as a terrible thing, but simply a fact – as the day wore on, she’d be less and less capable. But rest was not an option. That, too, was simply a fact.

This next corridor lead into a kind of clearing. There she saw the Watcher, standing. Waiting for her.

And this time, it was him that decided to finally play on Samus’s level. He did blurt out one final banality – “I warned you!” before he prepared for battle. His arms burst outward, the whole length of them having been the mere fore-digit of a much larger arm that had somehow been contained within. A second set of arms joined from within the human clown car that was the Watcher’s body, this set bearing a pair of carapacic sickles where a hand might otherwise have been. His legs burst up, revealing several more pairs, and his head exploded into a bug-eyed, reptiliansectoid monstrosity. In the end, he looked like a cross between a centipede and a praying mantis, and whatever dark power could cook up.

Without breaking momentum, Samus jumped up and kicked him in the face.

It was, in fact, far easier than Samus had expected. Instead of having to counter his sickle-hands or some other insectoid attack with her charge-beam as she’d been prepared for, she’d knocked him straight down. And Samus never looked a gift horse in the mouth. She unleashed her charged energy down the barrel of her gun and straight into the monster’s maw, and then shot down the barrel of her throat until the pellets came out of his spidery abdomen.

She surveyed the smoking corpse. It was probably fine.

Then she turned and continued running. If the Black Knight was foolish enough not to kill her at the first opportunity, and prideful enough to play games, then this maze had an end. And now she knew his weakness. But would it help, in the final battle? When blow came to blow …

Her thoughts visited the chip lodged securely in her breastplate.

Would she have to use it?

I MAY HAVE TAKEN SOME LIBERTY WITH 'ILLUSIONS' AND MAYBE FUCKED UP BUT WELL THE POST IS DONE NOW SO I'M POSTING IT

[Hiro Protagonist]

"aaaaaAAAAAAHHH!"

Hiro tumbled down a long stone slide, whooshing through cramped tunnels as his own momentum bore him along helplessly. Shoved up against the side on twists and turns, frantically scrabbling for a handhold or something to slow him, he felt the surface drop away from under him. Now he was free falling, turning end over end. He shut his eyes, thinking, "This is really going to fricken' hurt." .

FWOOMP

He landed, surprisingly, on something incredibly soft. A huge, elegantly decorated bed, replete with pillows and blankets. Perhaps unwisely, he took the chance to catch his breath on the mattress, before a high pitched voice jolted him out of his moment's peace. "Oh! A hero has arrived!"

The hacker sat up and rolled off the bed to behold a gaggle of medieval maidens, clustered in the corner and regarding him fearfully. Rolling his eyes, he checked his goggles and equipment, before looking around the room for an exit. "Wait, brave hero! Please...stay with us a while? We have been kept prisoner by the Black Knight since he arrived." Another one chimed in. "Yes! He took us from our villages as tribute, in exchange for leaving them standing."

Hiro held up a hand to cut them off. "Look, ladies. That's a lovely story and all, but you don't register as living things on my scanner. So....nice try." The women disappear with an almost audible indignation, as a booming laugh echoed throughout the room. The trappings of luxury and intimacy faded away to reveal a plain stone room with a pile of hay and chains on the wall. "Truly, there is no fooling you, Hero. I knew you were a natural leader."

The silicon samurai proceeded out of the wooden door into a long long hallway...lined with formations of knights. Wielding all sorts of weapons and polearms, Hiro gripped his katana and prepared for battle. But they didn't move. The voice spoke again. "Proceed, champion. Come. Meet with me. We have much to discuss. PAy no mind to my guards, they are merely...decoration. For the time being."

Exasperated, Hiro started walking, his footsteps echoing off the banners and torches lining the long hallway. "You must be the big boss of this place, right? The Black Knight? Well, I'm a black knight too, and uh...there's only room for one in this biznitch, got it?" This hallway was taking forever to walk down.

"Untrue, Protagonist. Very untrue. See! Even your name cannot hide your role." Hiro opened his mouth again to speak, but was cut off. "And of course, as a leader, you are worrying about your compatriots. Do not. They are safe, for the time being. I wanted to speak to you 'behind closed doors', as it were."

The digital daimyo allowed himself a smirk. "You sure talk a lot for a personification of evil, buddy. This chat going to take much longer?" He picked up speed, loping into a jog until the knights lining the hall started to blur into a seamless image. Putting his speed on display might throw the Black Knight off.

"I will cut to the chase, then. You are obviously the most tactical, the most level headed of your allies. The mad plague knight, and the tormented, self-doubting shrew in armor so thick she doesn't have to expose her sins to the world. Compared to them, you are a noble! You deserve a noble's place." Hiro could see where this was going. Ugh, why did bad guys always have to result to this line of thinking? Raven had tried it, Rife had tried it, The Sage had tried it. "Join Nebula, and rule a verse as your own. I can sense it in you, you have already embraced the Dark Power. You can handle it, surely. There will be no gibbering mindless oblivion for you. Here."

And Hiro was suddenly in a throne room, the Black Knight standing; no, towering over him. A wickedly spiked gauntlet was outstretched towards the hacker. "Take this Darkchip, and swear fealty to Nebula. Help me destroy them and you may have your own verse to rule." 

Really....that easy, huh? Time slowed down as he stood there, two halves of his personality arguing with each other. Accepting the offer was unquestionably an act of evil. But what was evil, in the Omniverse? Hadn't he been beaten down, over and over again, and committed to gathering as much power as possible? Here was the fast track to it. He could feel the corruption inside him reacting to the darkchip's presence, whispering in his ear, trying to convince him. 

And then the samurai on his shoulder just shook his head and turned away. Really? Fucking really? He might as well shatter his blade if he took this offer. What kind of monumentally stupid person would take it in earnest? Besides, evil bastards never got the nice girls. 

Only heroes did.

"Sorry, tinpot. Gonna have to say no." The street ronin turned his back and marched out of the throne room...into a twisted stone maze. 

"You have chosen...poorly. Go then. Find your friends. Face me....and die."

Hiro leaned forward into a sprinter's pose, the goggles on his face blinking and analyzing possible courses through the maze.

"You first."

And he was gone.

[Nebula]

Okor entered the arena from the north-side of the circular gladiator pit. The large entry-way was blasted open from his side and he stomped his way onto the sandy ground. From both the right and left, from his view, came both Samus Aran and Hiro Protagonist. At first it seemed coincidence that they all happened to arrive in these fighting pits at the same exact time, but the fact that this would-be opponent was standing in the center of it made thew hole thing fishy.

They all began to step forward towards the center, glancing at each other. The Black Knight stood tall, facing towards where Okor had come in from, but clearly noticing the other two as well. He was much larger then the average human, decked out in glistening ebony armor from head to toe. He was flanked on all four sides by knighted darklings, each with a different weapon. They covered him well.

"Welcome to Nebula's greatest creation," the Black Knight's booming voice spoke, "A New Camelot, born out of the powerful corruption you find in the Omniverse every day. I am soon to be the new ruler of this verse and every verse connected to it. You may call me The Black Knight." He waited to see if he got a response from the trio, but he did not. He pulled the huge two-handed greatsword from its sheath on his back, and used one single hand to slice it down into the ground in front of him. "And this is Alondite, the Bringer of Your Dooms!"

Right on cue, three of the four Darkling Knights in front of him rushed forward towards one of the would-be Camelot Liberators.

The group is in the  fighting pits in the depths of Nebula Castle. There are a bunch of medieval looking spectators watching the group.

You are now facing The Black Knight and the Four Camelot Commanders. The four darklings with him are each using a different weapon (to help you identify them through each other's roleplays): Sword and Shield, Crossbow, Great Axe and Morningstar. The Black Knight has a massive blade named Alondite.

Samus takes 3 points of wear-and-tear damage. Hiro and Okor are okay. You should probably give me health updates though, since we haven't done that in awhile.

You have until Saturday, November 4th to write up to 2 roleplays with a max of 1,000 words in each one. I reserve the right to jump in and post OOC notes on the Black Knight's behalf in between some roleplays. I'll try to avoid doing so if I know someone is writing. Lemme know if you have questions.

[Samus Aran]

Damage Counts according to my calcurations:
Hiro: 12
Okor: 6
Samus: 9

Samus stepped forward, aware of each heavy click and whirr within her suit. They’d gotten this far. Genuinely, she felt relieved. The day, though it had been merely a matter of hours, felt somehow … spiritually, longer. It had taken every ounce of her focus to get to this point alive and intact.

This was it. The final battle.

Samus surveyed the enemy.

The Black Knight himself was nearly seven foot tall – perhaps his natural height, perhaps a byproduct of dark power infestation – the hunter guessed a combination of both.

Naming his sword. Proud, just like she’d guessed.

Three of the knights charged forward. He and his favourite remained? Arrogant. Lucky for her.

“I’ll be your opponent!” said the morning star-wielding knight, as he leapt the distance towards Samus.

The Hunter instinctively raised her cannon, clicking the missile trigger.

Click, click.

That was the problem with relying on instinct and muscle memory. It took Samus half a second to remember that her missile systems were disabled. Long enough for a morning star to graze her helm.

She had, of course, been quick enough to duck backwards. In that moment, her suit changed, growing outwards to take on its normal, bulky appearance. In confined quarters such as this, speed wouldn’t help as much as raw defense. Robbed of her various tricks and upgrades, this would be a brawl. A fact Samus did not appreciate. She was a tactician, a fighter who relied on positioning and exploiting her opponent’s weaknesses through versatility. Right now she had a gun, a grappling beam and her wits.

Still, it was more than morning star boy. As he lunged, swinging with wild fury, she pivoted, keeping her opponent on her left hand side. As she blocked and feinted with her left arm, she hooked her right arm under, taking potshots. Each crashed against his steel armor, seemingly doing nothing. But she had to trust. None of her previous adversaries had shown much in the way of weakness or fear. But they had all fallen, one by one, to persistence and attrition.

Okor, meanwhile, was handling the greataxe wielder, while Hiro battled the crossbowman. Samus always made sure to keep an eye on what else was happening.

That fact saved her life in the coming moments.

As she circled around, she found herself with her back to the Black Knight and his remaining vassal, the sword-and-shield wielder. Her target indicators were fuzzy, but still up, and out of the corner of her eye, she spied a HUD-arrow lighting up.

This was one moment where muscle memory and intuition did save her. Out of habit, out of instinct, she jumped – and as she flipped, the massive sword of the Black Knight cleaved her previous position in twain. The morning star-wielder ducked, avoiding its swathe with a hoot. “Careful, boss!”

The Black Knight growled in displeasure at his miss. “Shut up, worm!”

Not so arrogant after all, Samus noted, as she twirled in the air to land behind the Black Knight. His next vassal, the sword-and-shield wielder, came at her directly in the next moment, forcing her to dodge sideways.

The Hunter’s heart thudded. They’re cornering me …!

The Black Knight turned, and despite his helm-clad head, she could almost see the evil grin. Feel it like a veil of malice descend upon her position.

That was when Hiro sunk a katana halfway-deep into the Black Knight’s side.

The obsidian knight gave a roar of pain and swiped, far too late to catch anything but the hacker’s shadow.

“Thanks,” breathed the Hunter as she stepped in to counter the shieldman’s sword with her arm cannon.

“I just saw an opportunity to stab him,” quipped Hiro. “Thanks for getting his attention.”

The Black Knight rounded on the crossbow-wielder. “Keep him busy!” he spat.

“Yes, boss!” The crossbowman replied sheepishly, raising his weapon once more to target the hacker.

Samus took a moment to survey the stands. Crowds filled them. More illusions, or dark-power infested humans from the real world? No time to find out. The shortsword-wielder and morningstar-wielder were coming at her from either side, and it was all she could do to jump backwards, quickly assuming her Predator form to take on a burst of speed as she continued blasting away. It wasn’t risky as long as she kept her back to the wall. Theoretically.

She’d run into Okor and greataxe-man’s territory, and as she backpedalled from her own opponents, a similar opportunity to Hiro’s jumped into her head. The Hunter smirked despite herself. She turned and shot several times at the greataxe wielder.

Predictably this annoyed the knight, who growled. “Can’t you two keep her busy?!” he snapped, before receiving a deadly punch in the face from his opponent.

With his opponent down, Samus saw about getting the undead walker’s attention. “Okor!” she cried, and shot his grapple beam straight at him.

Bemused, the plague knight raised his hand, letting the grapple beam attach.

“Swing!”

“Hmm …. I see.” He gripped the blue beam and wrenched, as Samus herself leapt off her feet and retracted the beam to give it some motion.

Okor’s strength never failed to impress. He swung Samus round, and as the axeman stood, he received a blue beam to the face, flooring him yet again. The momentum continued, and finally Samus let go, flying back towards her two overeager pursuers.

Two feet met two faces. Samus only wished she had two guns, but elected to shoot the morning star-wielder first before resuming her run-away tactics.

With the fight in full swing, only one question remained on Samus’s mind. She had not the time to ask, but her mind asked anyway.

Where’s Madotsuki?

Her mind flashed back to Shinnah the gnome.

Not. One. More.

As the Black Knight closed in on Hiro, Samus ran into the giant’s back and thrust her cannon-arm into the back of its knee. Another roar of pain.

Hiro dodged out from between his two opponents. “Could’ve been faster,” he gasped. But his face showed something like gratitude.

Samus grunted as she ran in the opposite direction.

Just don’t die, she thought.

[Okor]

An axe forged of blackened steel whistled through the air, the sharpened edge digging deep into his mummified flesh. The force of the blow elicited a grunt from the giant as he staggered backwards, parasites already slithering from the rent in his leathery skin. Corrupt claws wrapped around the shoulder of the sable-clad darkling, bringing them in close as Okor’s horned helm drove itself forwards, a crack resounding through the arena as the knighted nightmare fell backwards, their armour dented under the impact. The plagued paladin struck out with his greaves, hooking one leg around the darkling’s leg and pulling it out from under them, lifting his blighted blade high in the air, the tainted tip prepared to be driven through the abomination’s heart.

A crossbow bolt embedded itself in his wrist as he drove the blighted blade downwards, driving it off its deadly path. It skittered off the stones as the Axe-wielding warrior clambered to his feet, another quarrel thudding into his breastplate to cover the retreat of the Archer’s brethren.

”Honour among rogues?” Okor gurgled, ripping the poisoned projectile free from his wrist, its serrated tip dripping with white blood and black toxins. ”Such a rarity these days.”

Sluggishly, a hand reduced to nothing more than bone, animated by the maggots still feasting upon scraps of festering flesh, raised a single silicon chip and jammed it inside a crack upon his envenomed vambrace.

Slime-slick biomechanical horrors breached through his much-abused armour, lamprey-like maws latching on to his gauntlet, their pallid bodies squirming and glowing from within as tainted lightning arced from his blighted body. It coalesced in front of an outstretched palm, twisting into runes of ruin and sigils that promised an eternity of suffering.

”And a shame it will end so… suddenly.”

Lances of entropic energies spat from his palm, turning armour and flesh alike to dust with their passing, the axe-wielder’s discipline preventing him from releasing anything more than a soft grunt while leprous lightning impaled them. Flesh turned to dust in the blink of an eye, errant bolts of electrical bile gnawing holes through a raised shield, motes of steel turning to dribbles of rust as the devoted darkling protected his massive master. Burning coals shined from within the Black Knight’s helmet as he turned to face the being that would dare strike him.

The thrill of power ran through ruined veins, the lightning-leeches adhered to his gauntlet slowly slithering away, corrosive fangs gnawing at the earth as they sought out the dark nexus of energies within this realm. He stepped over the fallen knight, his blighted blade screeching against the stone beneath them as he shambled closer, slowly building up speed as he charged.

His momentum was arrested when a haft slammed down across his neck, the previously fallen axeman pressing himself against Okor’s bulk, holding the plagued paladin in place while his master deigned to bless the Marine with his presence, a sword the size of Okor himself raising overhead for the deathblow.

Mortarion’s son struggled under the tender caress, the blackened helmet shuddering as it came to rest next to his pauldron, eyes like star-swamped galaxies staring out at him from within the sable steel. “Nebula’s light shall shine eternal,” came a hoarse whisper, as time seemed to slow: The glint of the two-handed blade descending from on high, the press of the axe haft against his throat, the steel plate against his back.

The transparent blade slicing through the wrist of his would-be captor.

Okor fell forward as he was released, along with the severed hand as the Black Knight’s blade careened through the Darkling’s shoulder, cleaving through the air where Okor had previously stood, and the armour of his underling with equal ease. A roar resonated through the arena as the Knight’s prey was denied, mimicked by its minion as it clutched its axe in one remaining hand, star-spun pseudopods flowing from the breach in their armour.

Hiro stood at his side, jumping from foot to foot, adrenaline pounding through too-human veins as he clutched his sword of glass, knuckles whitening his darkened skin. He turned to Okor, a grin shining beneath the increasingly complex series of goggles and sights as the ambulatory shrine to entropy slowly rose from his knees. “Not yet, Big Guy.” Hiro paused for a moment, contemplating patting the plague marine on the back, before his sense of self-preservation prevailed, wrapping both hands around the hilt of his exotic weapon.

The two crusaders stood together against the world, one wielding a shining sword of sculpted glass, the other holding a battered blade of corroded iron. All was silent for a moment, both sides taking a moment to regroup their strength as they gazed at each other with unrestrained fury.

A blast of energy forced the knight wielding a morning star to stumble as the torrent of power broke against his breastplate, the darklings starting to surge forward in retaliation for this indignity. Samus screamed out over the din as the hunter sunk to one knee, laying down suppressing fire for her luddite companions.

“Stop posing and get fighting!”

864 words. Made use of the Firing Zone Battlechip acquired after the Centaur fight that I horribly butchered the name of.

[Hiro Protagonist]

Hiro was roused from his second's pause by Samus shouting at them. "Not posing!" He yelled back, a second before the Black Knight's tremendous sword nearly gave him a too short haircut. He skipped back, heart thumping in his chest. Blood was pounding in his ears as they all danced the deadly cantata of the warrior. Hiro stepped forward and blurred, using his enhanced speed to dart in between targets.

Katana battered off the Morningstar Knight's pauldrons, a rapid flurry of strikes denting his gorget and bringing him worringly closer to decapitation. His strike true, Hiro disengaged towards the other Darklings. He refocused into sight right in front of the crossbow wielding Darkling, raising his katana as he crouched low. The bow went high as it was knocked aside by the glittering blade, the bolt going high into the stands and bringing one of the spectators down gurgling. A crunch sounded from behind him as Okor bodily flung himself at the wounded Morningstar Knight, Hiro tensing his stomach as he released a wide sword slash, catching the lightly armored crossbowman right across the chest and causing black bile to spill from a nasty cut.

The samurai turned on his heel, focusing on the next target in front of him. His was a fast, harrying style of combat. His allies, armored and sturdy, could take the hits these Darklings were dishing out. His best strategy was to worry their foes, distracting them so Samus and Okor could fell them for good. Then, they could focus on the Black Knight.

Who's massive gauntlet had just darted out and closed around Hiro's throat, lifting him bodily off the ground. 

"Hggk....Hhkkkk.." The hacker choked and squirmed three feet off the ground as the Black Knight crushed his windpipe. "Insect...annoying little bug. Leave the fight those those that can survive without fleeing every second." Hiro felt himself being thrown clear through the air, watching as both Okor and Samus had been too occupied fighting the other Darklings to save him. Not that they should have come rushing to his rescue. He was more than capable of taking care of himself.

This thought went through his head calmly, right as he hit the ground, rolling through a cloud of dust. Coughing and rubbing his neck, he struggled to his feet and started punching in codes on his wristcomp. "I am tired....of being thrown around." He spat a hunk of reddish phlegm on the ground, before a suit of glowing green armor surrounded his person and blade, his enhanced sensors activated. 

He dashed forward, leaving green tracers in the air as he redoubled his assault against all four Darklings and the Black Knight, leaving his trail behind him as his katana glowed and slashed at and through armor and limbs. He caught sight of Samus blasting the Sword and Shield Commander in the face with a sizable burst of energy, staggering him back at the same time Okor crushed the Greataxe Wielder's  breastplate in with a hefty strike.

Hiro pulsed in his datastructed armor, jabbing the emergency program he'd last used in Darkshire, biting his tongue for what he knew was coming next. "Hey Okor!" He yelled towards the plague knight, his left arm's armor covering beginning to darken and grow nasty spikes of red. "You didn't get to see me use this one last time - here's an encore!"

And he slammed his fist into the ground, red spikes jutting up from the battlefield and catching the Darklings in it's radius.

598 Words.
Hiro used Totsuzenshi.
Hiro used T1 Power Up - Ronin of the Metaverse (1 OP)
Hiro used T2 Super Attack - Head Crash (2 OP)

[Okor]

Fresh from his victory over the axe-wielder, Okor charged forward, his corroded cleaver clutched tightly in his claws, every step sundering the stone beneath, a clumsy tidal wave of maggot-ridden flesh and war-forged steel compared to the graceful motions of his companions. His gangrenous gaze was fixed upon Nebula’s champion, the shot-riddled shield bearer interposing himself between his dread master and the plagued paladin descending upon him, fearless in the face of nigh-assured destruction. The Darkling’s noble sacrifice was denied as Hiro’s hack distorted reality, a red spear drenched in black bile and loops of binary sequences rising from the earth and running the abomination through.

What passed for blood coursed through the remains of Okor’s veins, rotten hearts pounding in his chest as the world seemed to fade away to nothing more than himself and his titanic foe. Sable steel covered the giant from head to toe, the blade held in the Black Knight’s gauntlet larger than Okor’s own body, its dread length seemingly absorbing the light, sight gravitating towards it. There was nothing more than the two warriors and their blades as they closed the distance, skill matched against strength.

Unfortunately, the Death Guard neglected to factor in speed. Hiro had no shortage of it; a blur striking at the lesser foes as Okor sought to go blow-for-blow with the giant, slowly bleeding their corrupted vitality away with a thousand cuts of his glass blade as they hung suspended through his techno-sorcery. Okor, however, had no such celerity, as he discovered when the Knight broke his crimson bonds and sought to repel the impertinent marine. The Black Knight’s blade was like the death of the sun: Sudden, terrifying, inevitable, plunging all that ever was into darkness. The two-handed blade tore a great rent in his armour, shrapnel flying from the impact as Okor was sent tumbling backwards, bouncing off the unforgiving stone, a symphony of shattered bones accompanying him.

”Pathetic,” snarled the sovereign of this tainted realm as he advanced forwards, Hiro’s lightning-fast flurry of blows ended as his blade was caught in the morning star’s chains, fending what remained of the axe-wielder off with a kick to the gut. Samus’ shots sped through the air towards the wounded crossbowman as she launched herself from the shieldbearer’s barrier, an armour-clad claw reaching out to drag her back down to earth.

”I can see what you are, Paleblood,” the Knight hissed, his now blood-drenched blade hoisted over his shoulder, eager to deliver the killing blow. ”The sorry excuse for your life. Every betrayal, every murder, the thousand of thousand failures that stitch together the sad saga of your existence.” His blade was raised high now, preparing to crash down and end the suffering of the son of Mortarion. ”Before I end your misery, tell me one thing, just one thing: Why?” The smirk beneath the giant’s helmet was palpable, the voice echoing throughout the arena melodious and noble, almost hypnotic. ”Why do you persist? Why do you insist on blighting us with your continued existence? Why do you still shamble through the realm of the living, when you belong in the cold, dead earth?”

The sword scythed down as Okor raised his battered head, his single eye staring out at the foe, filled with blood, pus, and undying hatred as he snarled out his answer.

”Because my legs are not yet broken.” Fragmented fingers jammed a shard of silicon ebbing and flowing with corrupt energy into his bracer, black flames consuming him entirely as the power of Nebula flowed through him. Tortured souls shrieked as he bolted forwards, the Black Knight stumbling backwards as infernal fire crashed against him, the conflagration coalescing into charred armour and bone, skeletal fists raised overhead as they hammered down upon his helmet. His own sable-steel gauntlet reached up, prying the pyroclastic warrior from his face, throwing them to the unforgiving earth.

Fire-blackened boots ground against the stone as the marine landed on his feet, drawing a blade slick with dark oil, sizzling off the stone as it ate away at all it touched. The claimant of Camelot ran a gauntlet over his face, feeling the dents beaten into it. ”What kind of Demon possesses you, to force you to fight against such odds?” He soon resumed a fighting stance, both hands wrapped around the hilt of their blade. ”Tell me, so that I may exorcise it.”

Okor laughed as he spread his arms, what was not consumed by wrong black fire covered in soot and ash. ”Sheer bloody-mindedness.”

The black blade descended downwards, scything through the air and cracking against the stone as Okor stepped around it, the weapon whistling past his torso. He planted one skeletal hand upon the flat of Alondite as the knight swung it to the side, vaulting himself over its length as he raised his own blighted blade. A million battles upon a thousand worlds had taught him the ways of war, and freed from the fragility of flesh, he was free to exercise this experience. As the pretender to Aragorn’s throne attempted to recover from his wild swing, Okor plunged the blade into the tainted titan’s stomach, the corruption within the armour and upon his own blade meeting, as the aspiring god of Nebula and the foreign Lord of Decay began their invisible war of contagion.

Okor smiled as he pressed the attack, swinging his plagued blade with precisely applied brutality, revelling in his newfound perfection, his corrupted cleaver carving into joints and cracks, seeking to leave the false king crippled and contaminated with the greatest of Nurgle’s gifts:

Despair.

959 Words. Fiery charge dark chip used. 2 Order points used to activate The Burned Man (+2 ATK, DEF, SPD, and +4 TEC), 11/16 Order points remaining, by my count.

[Nebula]

The Black Knight was losing. The arena was littered with the bodies of dead or incapacitated Darkspawn Knight. His armor was dented and scratched from the several attacks he had taken from the trio of warriors. A corner of his helmet was torn off, revealing his dark chin underneath, coated with some red liquid. He knew coming into this that they were strong. He didn't know if he over-estimated himself, or under-estimated them. But either way, with the taste of his blood on his tongue, he knew that this was a real life-or-death situation. This was not going to be a situation where his power overwhelmed with ease. He was going to have to work for this power. He would have to earn it.

He stumbled back, clutching the knife-wound on his stomach. The rot had peeled away some of the ebony armor there, revealing pale greenish, tainted blood that oozed out. He fell down to one knee. Then he dropped forward onto his hands. He breathed deep, panting as he tried to recover. Around him, he could feel the presence of his enemies in front of him. Samus Aran was to the right.  Hiro Protaganist to the left. Okor Paleblood right in front of him. They were coordinating. He smiled.

This was why The Black Knight chose to serve Nebula. This is why he accepted the corruption. For moments like this. For live or die, take it or leave it moments like this.

There was a noise from one of the trios. Suddenly Okor sprung forward. Hiro was moving too, right at him. He realized quickly that Samus had somehow signaled to them and was moving as well, so they could all attack and finish him at once. But would not be that easy.

"Fools!" He shouted as he suddenly rose up onto his knees. He gripped Alondite by its handle and spun from bottom to top, and then slammed it down to the ground. When the giant blade hit the sand underneath it, a powerful wave of pressurized air blasted forward in a blue-white glow. The ground tore apart ten meters in front of him, spreading to form a cone aiming straight for the trio coming at him. "The Black! Knight! Lives!"

Okor takes 1 damage. (7)
Hiro takes 3 damage (15).
Samus takes 3 damage (12)

The Black Knight uses 'The Black Knight Lives (T2 Defense).

He also uses 'Vacuum Wave (T1 Attack)' on all three in front of him. All three will take 10 damage unless they individually defend against it. Feel free to coordinate OOC if you want someone else to write you using a defense.

11 Order Points Remaining. 

The next round will be 1 roleplay with no word limit. I will get a roleplay in as well at some point this round as well. The deadline is one week from this post. As always, if we finish early, we'll move early if possible.

[Samus Aran]

In the heat of the battle, they’d made a tactical misstep.

Charging the enemy all at once – it had seemed to be a smart move. The united move. But the Black Knight was a cornered dog, a feral hound, and the hunter should have known that he’d had an ace card up his sleeve.

But Samus, too, was a hound. And she’d tasted blood. Those instincts had kicked in. Perhaps it was the Metroid blood. Perhaps it was the Stalker blood. Perhaps it was the blood of Madotsuki, imagined.

None of these things ran through Samus’s mind at the time, though. Those considerations would only come later, when the bloodlust faded. At the time, Samus thought only one thing:

End it.

The Black Knight slammed his sword into the ground, and Samus immediately knew that something was wrong. She planted her feet, crossing her arms even as the azure spread through the air, the ground. She was already in its radius before she could stop.

The words are lost in the squall, a panicked frenzy of syllables blurted out and heard only by her suit:

“Missile Storm, Initiate!”

Some modicum of sense had returned to her in the moment, and with that, she’d formed a desperate, half-second plan: blow herself backwards with the missile storm. Intercept its force with the explosion of her own attack.

It had been worth a try.

The missiles launched too late. They sailed outwards and presumably hit their intended target, but Samus was unaware.

The pain that Samus felt wasn’t explainable – no pure pain on that level ever is. The brain can only process a certain degree of pain before it overloads, blanks out, and registers it on the ten-point scale as simply ‘nothing’.

At the point where it hit Samus’s abdomen, her suit was compressed like a tin can being struck by a pressure hose.  It folded in, cutting into her gut, and the shock waves rippled outwards; blowing chunks of steel like orange confetti across the battlefield. Viewed in slow-motion, one could witness that stopping moment, where she seemed to pause momentarily, before being thrown backwards like a rag doll in a fireworks display.

And that was that.

.

.

.

At some point in some time, a woman woke up to a roaring silence. It was as though she was in the eye of the storm; aware, vaguely, of movement around her, but unable to perceive or make sense of it.

All at once the pain came, like the deep breath one takes after coming up from underwater; and she could perceive nothing else other than screaming agony, full-body sickness that made her want to retch and die.

Samus screamed as she clutched at the compressed metal at her midriff – what remained of that part of her suit – and tore away, relieving her of the immediate threat to life and mobility. Any normal person would have blacked out at the process. But any normal person would not have come here.

She gasped as she took in the scenery. The crowd were going wild. It was probably that fact that made her most furious. She didn’t care whether they were real or simulated – it was the insult. The principle. Violence was what she did, yes. Terrible violence. But only ever to counter violence. That her actions – that the threatening of her life – should serve as entertainment to somebody, was disgusting to the hunter. It was that fury that found the hunter her feet, that pushed her upwards in spite of the pain, and narrowed her eyes on the target, the focus of it all:

The Black Knight.

His sword was lowered against the upheld katana of Hiro. Samus watched as the diminutive ronin slid to the side, raking his blade against the knight’s armour.

Eager to join, the hunter stepped forward.

Her suit was not so eager. It still functioned, but the legs were markedly less responsive. She didn’t need the visor’s HUD to tell her that it was bleeding out, along with her true body. Fighting now would only lessen the time she had left.

That made her choice considerably easier.

Samus clicked open the breastplate storage compartment of her suit, reaching in. The dark chip immediately filled her fingers with a buzzing energy, like a bottle of wasps. It was almost as though it was angry for being contained so long. Anxious to be unleashed.

The image of a sniper’s scope. ZERO IN ON TARGET AND KILL.

Samus slotted it into the arm cannon and raised it towards the Black Knight. As dark power swelled in the cannon, her desperation was replaced with confident grit. The pain in her abdomen even seemed to subside a bit. This was the power to destroy evil. And who better to wield it?

Her eyes narrowed and, as though her very consciousness had lurched forward, she saw the Black Knight as though he were a hand’s breadth away from her.

She pulled the trigger and there was no delay. A purple lance of light shot into the Black Knight’s head.

T1SA: Missile Storm used, 1 Order Point, 7 OP remaining. Samus and Black Knight both got hit, so Samus is now at 22 damage.

Dark Chip: ZERO IN ON TARGET AND KILL used.

[Nebula]

There was a moment there when The Black Knight thought he might have won. His confidence was about his high as his body when the trio of would-be Camelot liberators rushed him at once and he fooled them into thinking he was down and out. As Alondite came crashing down to the surface and the turquiose energy erupted from it, he had a feeling of triumph wash through his body. He learned, moments later, that this was a false sensation. Over-confidence had proven to be the downfall of both his opponents and himself, as they defended just as well as he had.

The ronin known as Hiro Protaganist suddenly surged a similair shade of blue and rushed right through his attack. The bounty hunter, Samus Aran, took the attack straight out but had unleashed a volley of missles at the same time. The Ebon Warrior was just about to dodge the counter-attack when he felt a sharp pain run up his side, right where he had been stabbed earlier. Knowing where it came from, he looked up. Okor had rolled sideways, avoiding the attack all together thanks to the poison he inflicted from his Septiv Shiv. The Plague Knight had successfully poisoned him, and so the Black Knight didn't move in time when the missles came crashing into him.

He stumbled backwards, losing his balance. He could still see Hiro Protaganist rushing at him through the smoke. He put his weight forward, holding the giant blade Alondite in one hand and slammed it to the ground. The cyber-ninja stepped sideways and avoiding it, his own blade coursing blue. When he jumped up at The Black Knight, he got in a good strike to the shoulder-plate but ultimately didn't piece it. He was pushed sideways and sent rolling back to his feet.

The Black Knight turned, armor dented and burned from the missle storm, to face Okor Paleblood. "Your dirty tricks will do you no good anymore, Paleblood," The Black Knight put his hand on the wound from earlier. It was still clearly there, but no longer tainted with the poison. He pointed Alondite at the Plague Monster. "I will finish you first, you...what?!" Surprise and maybe even fear shot into his voice as he felt a tinge of dark energy, but not coming from himself. He looked to the side, where Samus Aran had fallen. She was still standing, and had just activated her first darkchip.

A violet lance of destruction slammed into his metallic helmet and erupted into a flash of electric energy. His low-pitched groan could be heard  from underneath it as he literally slid backwards on his feels. He stumbled forward and slammed his sword into the ground to stop him from falling backwards, instead falling and kneeling in front of it. The pain was unbearable. This wasn't supposed to hurt him. This was his power. The darkness. The corruption was supposed to be his to control.

He stood up. His breastplate and arm-guard on his right side were heavily damage and half-way storm apart. The left was burned from the purple energy from Samus' darkship. His helmet was completely gone. His dark skin was bruised, but his eyes told the real story. One of them was completely bloodied, closed from swelling and ooozing red liquid. The other one was glowing so brightly from the lavender power that it could have been a dark flashlight.

The Black Knight rose up again and pulled Alondite out from the arena floor. "No more tricks!" He roared. His anger seemed to shake the foundation of this underground fighting pit. The crowd, which had consistented of corrupted villagers, began to disappear, as if they were never there. "I will finish this! I will finish all of you, for Nebula!"

The Black Knight uses Dark Rush (T2 Power-Up, +2 ATK/DEF, +4 SPD, +2 TEC, giving him 6/10/4/6). He has 1 OP remaining for himself.

Okor used Septic Shiv to counter the earlier super move and rolled a 1. Both moves countered. Hiro countered with his Super Defense Perfect Kyohi. Neither one took additional damage. 8 Order Points Remaining for the group (11 minus 3 T1 Super Moves).

Samus will take 6 (5 for the serious injury, 1 for the darkchip corruption) points of damage, vice 10. I'm still learning this combat system, so bear with me. Black Knight took damage as well.

[Okor]

The black knight towered above the liberators, the dark powers of Nebula bubbling just beneath the aspiring King’s scarred skin, manifesting in a twisted reverse-light beaming from his unruined eye. Screams of devotion to his accursed master reverberated through the cracked stonework of the coliseum, a mirror of Okor’s own faith. Blackened bones and scorched steel stood opposed to the Conqueror, the contagious crusader’s consciousness stubbornly refusing to abandon his much-abused anatomy. Hate poured through the lump of charcoal that had replaced his hearts, both blackened organs cracking and crumbling as they attempted to give life to his blighted body.

Black tar flowed from within his charred carapace, cocooning his blasted form in an ebon membrane, its sable surface bubbling and twisting as it grew, swelling to thrice the size of the tainted warrior. The Black Knight roared as he stepped forward, his great blade hoisted over his pauldron as he advanced.

”You dare flee from Nebula’s champion?!”

Aldonite descended upon the cyst of corruption, its edge gleaming in stark contrast to the darkness roiling beneath its blade. The hacker cried out, raising his psy-forged shuriken pistol, only to have Samus’ armoured hand press it downwards. “Start flanking! Okor’ll hold his attention.”

Hiro paused for a moment, considering lodging a protest in regards to the Plague Marine’s current incapacitation. Reflecting on the literally supernatural vitality of Nurgle’s Chosen, he gave a simple nod, clutching his blade and pistol as he circled around the two cursed conquerors.

Aldonite kissed the exterior of the black, vile blob of corruption, tearing the exterior membrane. The Knight’s howl of triumph was deafened by a reverberating roar as the cocoon was cracked and torn to pieces. It was a sound from the dawn of humanity, the cry of a predator-god that stalks a thousand worlds in a thousand forms, an ancestral terror bred into the very genome of all things with an ample amount of flesh and a distinct lack of natural toxins or armour plating.

A ferric fist tore through its withering womb, knocking the blade of the black knight aside as the mechanical monster emerged from its cocoon. A series of tainted talons lurched forwards, their twisted tips dripping with bile as they sought out the gut of Nebula’s chosen warrior. Their gentle kiss of carnage was denied as the Black Knight leapt backwards, his sword flying into the air as he caught it by its blade.

The walking edifice of entropy took a shuddering step, its mouldering mass hung with rusted chains from which were displayed grisly trophies and prayers scrawled across steel, flayed skins, and bone. ”Nebula dies this day,” came a snarl from within the ambulatory shrine to decay, the two hydraulic fists clenching as the dreadnought charged, cracking the cobbles beneath its tread, rotating at the hips as its limbs were sent flying towards the Black Knight.

Unfortunately for the liberators, the time-honoured windmill technique was not so effective against an opponent with any degree of dexterity. The Knight nimbly leapt aside, dodging Okor’s flailing fists, bringing the pommel of his blade down on the machinery exposed in the cracks of the dreadnought’s carapace, eliciting a crack as gears and cooling pipes shattered beneath their strength. They had a mere second to look smug at their skilfull sabotage before a solid mass of rusted iron and palpable hatred struck them, sending them staggering backwards as Okor’s advance continued, unabated.

”You may be Nebula’s champion,” Okor snarled in a synthesized voice, knocking Aldonite aside with a corroded fist as the Black Knight danced tantalizingly outside of his grasp. ”But we are killers, hunters, and hacke rs all.” The Black Knight’s blade surged forward, bouncing off the armoured hull of the hulking warmachine. ”Scream your devotion to your absent god.” Two hammer-like hands joined over the verdigris-coated sarcophagus from within which the husk of the marine was imprisoned, plummeting downwards towards the plated armour of the Black Knight.

The bare-headed villain made a move to dodge, only to find a grappling hook wrapped around his ankles. He desperately rose his blade overhead, seeking to parry the blade, only for it to be driven towards his own head as he was unable to withstand the mechanized marauder’s strength. His own sword bit into his flesh, screaming in frustration and pain as a blade bit into the back of his knee, the ronin taking advantage of the distraction to attempt to hobble their foe.

Speakers set into the unholy hull of the Dreadnought hissed and crackled to life as his talons closed around Aldonite, a stub-fingered fist rearing back to drive itself into the Knight’s bloodied face. ”For my God lives within all of us.” He took another step forward, pushing the black knight back even as the dark-skinned warrior ducked beneath his blow. ”He feasts on your strength,” he proclaimed, another wild swing shattering the stone beneath them as the Black Knight broke free of Samus’ grappling hook. The Black Knight’s riposte drove his own blade into the mechanisms of Okor’s arm, oil and broken gears flying free.

The Knight roared as he struck again, ducking beneath another frenzied blow, cracking pistons as he slid past the hulking mass of hatred.

Any machine would have fallen by now, dilapidated and broken mechanisms rendering it immobile.

But as the bulk of the dreadnought turned, a chain adorned with jagged trophies of bone having fallen across the cracked casket set into the assault walker, a single eye filled with hate gazing out from within a prison filled with rotten amniotic fluid, the truth was made clear. This was not a machine of war: It was an Avatar. A lopsided grin forged from a thousand dead creatures was resplendent upon the rotting, rusted excuse for a walking weapon, and as Okor raised his twinned fists, he spoke in the voice of his plague god, he spoke with every ounce of delicacy and subtlety he was known for.

”Die.”

2 Order points used for Dreadnought Transformation. 6 Remaining. 9/11/0/2 stats. 1030 words.

[Madotsuki]

Where was everyone? One moment, they were there, and the next moment they were gone. The dreamer glanced around, eventually locating the trapdoor that must've pulled them away. She knelt down and attempted to force open the door, but the seal was so tight she couldn't breach it with her nails. Not even her attacks could pry it open.

The sound of stone against stone interrupted her, and she glanced up in alarm. The walls were shifting, closing in, blocking the exits. Immediately she tried to phase out, but then she remembered that she couldn't do that anymore. Confusion turned to panic as the room began to shrink. How was she going to get out of this?

Seeing as she was about to die, she decided that she wasn't going to take this lying down. She focused on her hands, readying to fire a blast of energy. It leaped out of her hands and into the wall, but it did nothing.

Growing hysterical, she pulled out her knife and started firing, but the walls were unstoppable as they pressed in on her. No, no no no! In a last ditch effort, she reached out her hands and pressed against the wall of death. It stopped for just a moment, only to close in several feet and break her arms.

She cried out in pain as the walls pressed against her chest and back. The pressure against her body was overwhelming, her bones cracking in response.

And then the room slammed shut.

Madotsuki has died.

[Hiro Protagonist]

The Black Knight launched his attack, some form of energy wave. The hacker grinned, and gripped his katana. A button clicked on his wristcomp as the countermeasures activated, crackling blue ebergy surrounding his blade and his body as he sliced through the attack like a biblical prophet parting an ocean. He caught the Knight's blade above his head, straining against the titanic strength.

"Face it, tin can! You're about to get deleted!" Hiro bantered, as he slipped out of the way of the Knight's crushing sword. Alondite whipped around again at him, only to bury in the dirt as the Knight staggered, Okor having shivved him in the armor chink. The silicon samurai flash stepped backwards, catching his breath as his erstwhile ally battered the dusken champion of Nebula. Hiro was reminded once again of the reason for one of his personal rules since coming to the Omniverse: "Do not fuck with Okor."

And then it got even better. The plague knight transformed into a rusted, rotting behemoth of a mech, a walking testament to his god's power. It was so awesome Hiro had to mentally stop himself from reaching for popcorn, right as Samus's voice shot through his goggle speakers. "GET HIM FROM BEHIND!"

Hiro nodded in agreement and circled around as Okor's Dreadnaught formform caught the Black Knight's sword in it's hand and battered the medieval menace's helmet with it's own blade. He paused, about twenty feet away and sheathed his blade, targeting the shifting bulk of black armor.

One jam of a big red button on his wristcomp later, and the screen fizzled out as red orbs began forming around Hiro's exerted body, his arms held out to his sides as they formed a scattered sphere around him.

This time, he was definitely posing.

"CHERNOBYL WIPE!

And the packets surged forward around his arms as he swung them towards the Black Knight's unprotected back.

Hiro kept his T1 Power Up active (1 OP)
Hiro used T1 Super Attack: Chernobyl Wipe (1 OP)

[Nebula]

Alondite came down hard enough to slice through the air visibly, straight towards Dreadnought Okor. The Black Knight was using both hands, but the defensive stance of the Plague Knight allowed him to reach up and catch the massive sword in his armored paws, bringing it to a halt. He held the metallic blade tight, grimacing back at the Ebony Warrior who tried to push it down and cut through the gauntlets. There were no more words from either of the ironclad fighters. They were past that point. The only communication that needed to be conveyed was through simple violence.

For a brief moment, The Black Knight had forgotten he had two other opponents around him. That quickly changed when he felt the energy blasts from Samus Aran's arm cannon connect with his side, causing him to send his attention towards her. At that moment, in a glorious display of teamwork, Okor pushed up on Alondite and sent the Knight sideways, scrambling to maintain his balance. He caught himself from falling, but was too busy with that to focus on Hiro Protaganist, who howled out a command into his gadget on his arm.

Okor could not back out of the way in time to avoid the attack, so he simply hunkered down in his massive Dreadnaught armor. The Black Knight turned towards Hiro in time to see dozens of small crimson orbs flying his way, as part of the Chernobyl Wipe. He let out a growl as he tried to swing Alondite at them, but it only served to make things worse as they began to explode upon immediate contact with him or his equipment. The ruby-red eruption covered his form for a few moments as he took the attack straight on.

The dust settled as the Black Knight stood there, again. His armor was as badly damage as it had always been. Predictably, he was moving as if he had barely taken an attack. The big difference was now he no longer glowed with the dark overflow of corruption that allowed him to use his Dark Rush technique. He was back to his base power, which was still nothing to scoff at. He stood back straight, looking at the trio: Okor right in front of him, within a few feet, and his companions spread out at long range. Alondite came up again.

"You cannot kill me or my Unstoppable Destiny. However," he said simply. "I concede."

He brought Alondite back down, blade towards the sand and he slammed it aggressively through the ground. Once it connected, it blasted outwards enough to cause Okor to stagger, but not fall. Samus and Hiro both had to catch their balance as well. The real problem was once the blast traveled out of the confines of their sandy arena pit, it hit the walls of the castle around it and shook its foundation. The tall ceiling above them began to crumble slowly as it lit up with more of the dark flame The Black Knight had wielded earlier. All around them, the villagers who had been watching this go down began to move in, turning into Darkling Knights one at a time.

They formed a semi-circle around the interior of one side of the arena, as if encouraging the group to use the exit behind them. "Get out!" The Black shouted. "Get out now!" One more, an eruption of dark energy blasted from Alondite, causing the castle to burn alight and crumble even more aggressively.

The Black Knight used Unstoppable Destiny (T1 Super Defense) to block Hiro's attack. He has no OP remaining. He is back to his base form of 4/6/0/4.
Okor was in range of Hiro's attack too, but did not take any damage (4 attack to 11 defense, plus not being the actual target).

He has conceded the fight and is putting all of his power into bringing his own castle down. He has called in more Darkling Knights to encourage you to leave. Here are your choices:
-Begin your escape, giving you a shot at survival
-Stay and try to finish off the Black Knight, with the understanding that you will likely be buried with him and what remains of his force.

You have 1 roleplay at 600 words and 5 days to make your decision, at which one I will give you an OOC update on the consequence.

[Okor]

Black flames burst from the upper stands of the colliseum, the audience descending upon the arena as their flesh warped and twisted, dark muscle protected by armoured plates propelling them down from the walls as they sought to tear and rend at the liberator’s flesh. Shards of stone descended from on high, crushing the mechanisms and metallic carapace that shielded Okor from the world, the walking shrine to his Gangrenous God collapsing against the blood-soaked sands of the arena.

The Dark Knight laughed, blood bubbling from his split lip as he brought down all that he had accomplished upon his head, a self-sabotage meant to allow him to retain some small measure of dignity. An end to his legacy, one final display of power meant to redeem him in the eyes of his distant master.

From beneath tonnes of metal and masonry, a gauntlet tore through the grinning sarcophagus, an atrophic arm following as Okor pulled himself free from the ruin, his armour and sickly skin slick with rotten amniotic fluids, umbilical cables tearing as he started to lurch forward. He gurgled through his festering fangs as he advanced upon the kneeling knight, drawing his septic sword as his companions fought battles of their own against the Darkling Horde.

”That’s not how this ends, ‘Champion’.” A Darkling’s downwards stroke bounced off his much-abused armour, a contemptuous thrust piercing the abomination’s innards, sending them slumping to the sands as the Corrupted Crusader advanced. ”You do not get to simply give up. You have cast your lot, and earned this fate, and none can save you from it.” The knight snarled and twisted his massive blade in the earth, a shard falling from on high, skewering Okor's chestplate as he advanced.

Murder was evident in Okor’s eyes as the war-priest of the plague god advanced, snapping off the tip of the stalactite driven through his torso, holding it like a knife.”There will be no songs sung of this day, no memory of your name. No… trophies. Just the silence of death, and one more failure for your weakling God.”

The walls of the coliseum shuddered as the knight pulled his blade free, swinging it with a roar of anger and pain, his wounds weeping with dark blood. The massive sword dug deep into Okor’s side, cracking his ceramite carapace and his fused ribs. A bloody, twisted smile spread across the Plague Marine’s features as he raised his own improvised weapon, bringing it down upon the knight’s gorget, his stone blade breaking into pebbles against the dark steel.

He laughed, the sound bouncing off the collapsing coliseum, rising over the din of battle as he wrapped his claws around the Knight’s blade, drawing it deeper into him as he began to drive his shard of stone down, again, and again, and again. He screamed out, unholy blood mingling between them as he struck out. ”This is what you’ve chosen! Every lie, every drop of blood shed, has led to this!”

More stone fell, clouds of dust choking the darkling hordes, drifts of sand obscuring sightlines as the hunter and the hacker fought their way through the horde.

Okor snarled, raising what remained of his implement of injury overhead, his cyclopean eye staring contemptuously down at his victim, the ceiling of the coliseum threatening to crush them at any moment.

”Now, be silent, and die.”

597 Words. Okor is staying behind to murder the hell out of the Black Knight.

[Samus Aran]

Samus is at 18/30 damage.

Okor was staying. That was clear and there was nothing they could do to convince the undead man otherwise.

Samus teetered between the two choices. She feared death, but not so much as to dissuade her from her mission. Seeing it logically … what was the better way to ensure the end of this Nebula verse?

She ran through the checklist.

If she stayed, they could perhaps kill the Black Knight before the rubble buried them all. But there was also the possibility that the Black Knight would escape regardless, and leave them to be buried. It didn’t seem the Black Knight’s style. A far more galling, and likely fate would be that he simply survived, through the sheer strength of Nebula’s ever-burgeoning corruption. And then there would be no-one left to stop him.

On the other hand, Okor was not leaving, and to leave him now would surely be to sign his death wish. Samus had seen the undead warrior’s strength first hand, but even Okor’s resilience had a limit. He was little more than a skeleton in a suit of armour now; his bravado didn’t change his mortality.

But certainly, that seemed to mean that the Black Knight would not be escaping. Okor would make sure of that. The Black Knight could still survive … but she would be outside to make sure he didn’t get far, if that was indeed the case.

Samus looked to Hiro, and his mind seemed to be made up also. She turned.

“Okor!” she called. “We’re going! We have to make sure this is his deathbed!”

“As do I!” He returned. “Now … go!”

Samus did not look back.

The suit was damaged badly, and transforming to its Predator state felt like a risk … but a worthwhile one for its speed. As she willed the bulky armor to fade, the HUD flashed up a number of errors, but after a few seconds, with a few clunks and clicks, the Predator armour emerged. She felt a little lighter on her feet now.

The building was already coming down. The dark flame was eating away at the structure far more aggressively than normal flame, and so the chunks that were falling down were practically atomised; beacons of black-purple that exploded into flame as they hit the ground. Samus had to activate her jet pack more than once to burst out of the way of incoming debris, and each time left her gasping for pain. Part of her had wanted to stay and die with Okor, rather than continue to endure as her life bled out. But that was not the path she’d chosen to walk. It was what made her different from the Chozo. They had accepted fate, died and left their creations to haunt the universe. Perhaps she was young and foolish, but without hope, there was nothing to move her.

Besides, she thought, one lip curling wryly despite herself. How many times have I escaped an exploding planet or facility before?

[Nebula]

Samus and Hiro:

The dark castle is now crumbling and rapidly catching fire from the dark flames that the Black Knight let loose in the basement. There is no small amount of inference from what is left of the Nebula Forces, who are much more interested in stopping you from getting away then they are surviving themselves. You can also choose to detour and loot on your way out, at the risk of additional damage.

Your goal is to get outside, and hopefully from there find a way out of the verse.

Okor:

You find yourself up against the Black Knight, but he is heavily damaged and clearly used all of his power up to this point. Unfortunately all exits out of the arena are blocked at this point, and the castle is crumbling around you. There are still a few Darkspawn soldiers left as well.

You can finish off The Black Knight in whatever way you decide, before the castle comes down around you. This will be your last post in this thread.



All of you have one week to write one roleplay, no word limit.