09-18-2017, 04:40 PM
And just like that Kuzuru’s world was torn asunder. The scythe-girl had shouted something about the need for cover, but the demon’s sluggish reaction left him lagging behind. A beachball sized chunk of stone slammed into his gut and sent him soaring across the room. His hearing degenerated into a nonstop cacophony of explosions followed by ringing. Gale force winds battered him with debris and tossed his body around like a ragdoll. He closed his eyes and hoped for the best, but after the third or fourth impact his thoughts turned into scattered mush. As suddenly as it began the veritable wind tunnel ended, leaving behind the tranquil, and almost comforting, pattering of raindrops. Kuzuru found himself buried beneath a sizeable pile of rubble. In his tumbling he had managed to get caught in one of the corners of the room, and were it not for the bulwark that this structure provided he would’ve been sent over the edge.
Warm blood trickled down the demon’s face and wormed it’s way through the network of debris that hugged him. It took a few moments of struggling to realize that he had ended upside down. His hearing hadn’t quite returned yet and the screams of his imprisoned souls screeched between his ears. He wished for death, and even though the wish was ephemeral he meant it with every fiber of his wicked being. Kuzuru stretched, reaching his one free arm outwards. His fingers played with a sheet of rock, eventually getting enough leverage to slide the piece out of the way. Fresh air mixed with the cool drizzle of rain greeted his fingertips. He tried to pull himself free using this newfound leverage, but found himself thoroughly stuck.
As he was getting ready to surrender his body to whatever Omni willed he felt a portion of the weight shift off of him. Miranda’s hand wrapped around his and pulled. Claptrap worked frantically, grabbing stones and throwing them off. Kuzuru coughed as his head breached the surface. A several inch long gash across his forehead oozed blood. The rest of his body was covered in bruises and cuts, but none of them were quite as grievous. Once he was free he sat deflated against the pile of rubble. He tried to chuckle, but the pain in his ribs only made him wince.
“Well fuck,” he groaned, “friendly fire ain’t so friendly.”
His vision drifted upwards towards the tumultuous storm overhead. Thick fingers of red lightning stretched across the heavens and threatened to smite anyone foolish enough to abhor shelter. Unfortunately shelter was in short supply now that the roof was quite literally blown off. Rain came down in sobering waves, warmed by the volcanic atmosphere. Steam billowed off exposed bits of pyroclast and enveloped the mountain in a shell of fog.
The darkloid was the first to recover, standing on a ruined stretch of stone that once served as a balcony. His constructs laid scattered across the rubble, some of them half-crushed or completely buried. He held up his hand and beckoned towards the heavens. And in response the heavens sent down a bolt of crimson lightning. His arm acted as a lightning rod, absorbing the awesome power set against it. Once the energy was absorbed he turned his crackling limb outwards and the same magic that created his doppelgangers, rejuvenated them. Their once-battered forms rising once again to meet the Liberators in glorious combat. Again the Darkloid spent a few moments concentrating before turning his magic against the mountain itself. The remains of his fortress twitched and shifted as the debris began to float. He stepped off the balcony and was caught by one of the floating formations, rising several feet above the battlefield.
Kuzuru groaned and motioned towards his fellow blades, “go take care of that please, I’ve got just the worst migraine.”
Miranda raised her eyebrow, but nodded and turned to fight. Claptrap followed suit, shouting some kind of battlecry.
The demon rolled over and fished into his pocket. He retrieved a darkchip and held it between his blood-soaked fingers. For a moment he closed his eyes and listened to the chittering lamentations of his prisoners. He felt their every cry and wail. He smiled. As one would a tab of acid he placed the chip onto his tongue and held it in his mouth. Choke on this you crybabies he said inwardly before swallowing the chip. A fresh wave of agony scratched at the inside of his head as the darkchip slithered down his gullet. He stood and used his forearm to wipe away the fresh coat of blood over his eyes.
In his hands materialized the slick black body of a guitar. Violet tones shimmered beneath the ebony sheen and the strings seemed to be made of ink. The entire thing seemed to shift and pulse as if it was created from a gel. A shoulder strap wrapped across his back and let the instruments hand lazily at his hips. He ran a bloody hand across the body and bridge, leaving behind a trail of smeared red. Kuzuru licked his lips and smiled.
“Alright baby, time to fuckin’ rock and God-damned roll,” he said.
Before he could lay into his first solo a bullet whizzed past his head. His ears twitched and he focused in on the culprit. High up on a floating piece of terrain stood a cowboy hat wearing version of the Darkloid. It carried a lever-action rifle and with a practiced motion chambered the next round. Kuzuru pointed the neck of the guitar at the gunslinger and laid into a riff. The sound that the guitar produced was a barbaric sort of cacophony that only those clinically insane would enjoy. Physical waves of sound cut through the battlefield and slammed into the construct’s body. It dropped the lever-action and brought both hands up to it’s ears, wincing as the waves of rock washed over it. Once the short riff was over the thing rushed to draw the two revolvers holstered at its hips.
Kuzuru watched in glee as the gunslinger began to take aim and fire at anything that moved, including its fellow doppelgangers. The demon threw up a set of devil horns and shouted, “it’s time to shred you sorry motherfuckers!”
And shred he did. It was hard to say whether it was the discordant nature of the instrument itself or his own inherent lack of skill that shaped the ungodly cacophony that followed, but one thing was certain -- he was having the time of his life. The voices that plagued him still screamed, but instead of being hampered by their incessant baying he incorporated them into his own hellish chorus. The screams of the damned were now, quite literally, music to his ears.
He fired a blast of sound past Morene, slamming it into her sword-wielding opponent. The samurai-esque shade began to swing with the intensity of a berserker, forcing Fellon to adopt a defensive position. However the shield-bearing copy strayed too close and attracted its attention. Using the momentary distraction Morene struck out with her halberd, scoring a solid hit against both of them. Kuzuru howled in excitement and turned his gaze upon the true Darkloid.
In response the Darkloid held out his hand and closed his eyes. Bright red orbs crackled into existence. There was about a hundred of them, each the size of pinballs. He clenched his fist and the marbles rained destruction down upon the guitarist. Kuzuru yelped and tried to dive out of the way. The fusillade of magic pelted him and the ground around him, each of the supercharged orbs exploding upon impact. His scream was overshadowed by the relentless hail of magic. Once all was said and done he remained standing in a smoldering crater, his entire body covered in burns and bruises. He threw up a middle finger and fell to a knee.
Warm blood trickled down the demon’s face and wormed it’s way through the network of debris that hugged him. It took a few moments of struggling to realize that he had ended upside down. His hearing hadn’t quite returned yet and the screams of his imprisoned souls screeched between his ears. He wished for death, and even though the wish was ephemeral he meant it with every fiber of his wicked being. Kuzuru stretched, reaching his one free arm outwards. His fingers played with a sheet of rock, eventually getting enough leverage to slide the piece out of the way. Fresh air mixed with the cool drizzle of rain greeted his fingertips. He tried to pull himself free using this newfound leverage, but found himself thoroughly stuck.
As he was getting ready to surrender his body to whatever Omni willed he felt a portion of the weight shift off of him. Miranda’s hand wrapped around his and pulled. Claptrap worked frantically, grabbing stones and throwing them off. Kuzuru coughed as his head breached the surface. A several inch long gash across his forehead oozed blood. The rest of his body was covered in bruises and cuts, but none of them were quite as grievous. Once he was free he sat deflated against the pile of rubble. He tried to chuckle, but the pain in his ribs only made him wince.
“Well fuck,” he groaned, “friendly fire ain’t so friendly.”
His vision drifted upwards towards the tumultuous storm overhead. Thick fingers of red lightning stretched across the heavens and threatened to smite anyone foolish enough to abhor shelter. Unfortunately shelter was in short supply now that the roof was quite literally blown off. Rain came down in sobering waves, warmed by the volcanic atmosphere. Steam billowed off exposed bits of pyroclast and enveloped the mountain in a shell of fog.
The darkloid was the first to recover, standing on a ruined stretch of stone that once served as a balcony. His constructs laid scattered across the rubble, some of them half-crushed or completely buried. He held up his hand and beckoned towards the heavens. And in response the heavens sent down a bolt of crimson lightning. His arm acted as a lightning rod, absorbing the awesome power set against it. Once the energy was absorbed he turned his crackling limb outwards and the same magic that created his doppelgangers, rejuvenated them. Their once-battered forms rising once again to meet the Liberators in glorious combat. Again the Darkloid spent a few moments concentrating before turning his magic against the mountain itself. The remains of his fortress twitched and shifted as the debris began to float. He stepped off the balcony and was caught by one of the floating formations, rising several feet above the battlefield.
Kuzuru groaned and motioned towards his fellow blades, “go take care of that please, I’ve got just the worst migraine.”
Miranda raised her eyebrow, but nodded and turned to fight. Claptrap followed suit, shouting some kind of battlecry.
The demon rolled over and fished into his pocket. He retrieved a darkchip and held it between his blood-soaked fingers. For a moment he closed his eyes and listened to the chittering lamentations of his prisoners. He felt their every cry and wail. He smiled. As one would a tab of acid he placed the chip onto his tongue and held it in his mouth. Choke on this you crybabies he said inwardly before swallowing the chip. A fresh wave of agony scratched at the inside of his head as the darkchip slithered down his gullet. He stood and used his forearm to wipe away the fresh coat of blood over his eyes.
In his hands materialized the slick black body of a guitar. Violet tones shimmered beneath the ebony sheen and the strings seemed to be made of ink. The entire thing seemed to shift and pulse as if it was created from a gel. A shoulder strap wrapped across his back and let the instruments hand lazily at his hips. He ran a bloody hand across the body and bridge, leaving behind a trail of smeared red. Kuzuru licked his lips and smiled.
“Alright baby, time to fuckin’ rock and God-damned roll,” he said.
Before he could lay into his first solo a bullet whizzed past his head. His ears twitched and he focused in on the culprit. High up on a floating piece of terrain stood a cowboy hat wearing version of the Darkloid. It carried a lever-action rifle and with a practiced motion chambered the next round. Kuzuru pointed the neck of the guitar at the gunslinger and laid into a riff. The sound that the guitar produced was a barbaric sort of cacophony that only those clinically insane would enjoy. Physical waves of sound cut through the battlefield and slammed into the construct’s body. It dropped the lever-action and brought both hands up to it’s ears, wincing as the waves of rock washed over it. Once the short riff was over the thing rushed to draw the two revolvers holstered at its hips.
Kuzuru watched in glee as the gunslinger began to take aim and fire at anything that moved, including its fellow doppelgangers. The demon threw up a set of devil horns and shouted, “it’s time to shred you sorry motherfuckers!”
And shred he did. It was hard to say whether it was the discordant nature of the instrument itself or his own inherent lack of skill that shaped the ungodly cacophony that followed, but one thing was certain -- he was having the time of his life. The voices that plagued him still screamed, but instead of being hampered by their incessant baying he incorporated them into his own hellish chorus. The screams of the damned were now, quite literally, music to his ears.
He fired a blast of sound past Morene, slamming it into her sword-wielding opponent. The samurai-esque shade began to swing with the intensity of a berserker, forcing Fellon to adopt a defensive position. However the shield-bearing copy strayed too close and attracted its attention. Using the momentary distraction Morene struck out with her halberd, scoring a solid hit against both of them. Kuzuru howled in excitement and turned his gaze upon the true Darkloid.
In response the Darkloid held out his hand and closed his eyes. Bright red orbs crackled into existence. There was about a hundred of them, each the size of pinballs. He clenched his fist and the marbles rained destruction down upon the guitarist. Kuzuru yelped and tried to dive out of the way. The fusillade of magic pelted him and the ground around him, each of the supercharged orbs exploding upon impact. His scream was overshadowed by the relentless hail of magic. Once all was said and done he remained standing in a smoldering crater, his entire body covered in burns and bruises. He threw up a middle finger and fell to a knee.
Quote:Activating Darkchip: DISCORD
Upon activation, this darkchip will form into the shape of a guitar, composed of some shining black substance, with a slick violet sheen. It looks faintly damp or moist, but is completely dry. When played, it produces a jarring, discordant melody, which drives anyone you deem as a hostile target into a frenzy. They lose ability to tell friend from foe, regarding everyone as a target, while heightening aggressive urges to make them bloodthirsty and eager to attack anything around them. Each time, these effects last for fifteen seconds, and the effect may be used up to four times before its power expires.
Activating T1 power-up “Strength of the Damned” for one round
Kuzuru’s new stats
ATK - 6
DEF -1
SPD - 4
TEC - 4
Kuzuru has 2 more uses of DISCORD left, feel free to have him use them as you see fit.
15 OP remaining
![[Image: ZzG0TJ9.png]](http://i.imgur.com/ZzG0TJ9.png)
![[Image: AshenBladeBadge.png]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/13/AshenBladeBadge.png)