Homesick Nightmares

[Kuzuru]

Even against the relentless tide of hellish bodies Kuzuru of the Ashen Blades stood defiant. He refused to wait for their approach and charged towards the horde, carving into them like a weed whacker set against ground beef. Ultraviolent displays erupted from the crowd, gouts of blood painted the streets with gore and viscera. A twister of blades, Kuzuru cut swathes through the encroaching shadows. Not a word was spoken by the devil, for there was nothing to say. Words meant little in the heat of battle and even less so against astral flesh puppets. A kind of high-octane electronic song filled the air and mixed with the carnage, adding another layer of intensity to the massacre.

Haunter watched overhead as his innumerable minions were turned into a fine puree. His bright eyes shifted from the demonic lawnmower over to the fallen dreamer and his newfound friend. For a moment the ghost considered his options, a luxury only afforded to those in control. A swirling orb formed in his open palms, a roiling ball of purple malice. They would suffer for interfering with his meal, and they would taste all the sweeter for it. A sonic boom cracked above the dreamers as Haunter’s shadow orb broke the sound barrier. Kuzuru felt the impact before he even became aware of the deafening boom. A square hit. His head jerked sideways as the solid projectile slammed into his lower jaw and he stumbled and fell. Hundreds of lumbering shades enveloped him their awkward bodies smothering his limp carcass.

“You’re in my world now motherfuckers,” Haunter’s voice boomed throughout the city.

His attention now split the Sage did his best to tend to the Dreamer while simultaneously manifesting a smattering of embers. His free hand was a lighter without fuel, only capable of producing the occasional spark. Shambling towards him the cloaked creatures spoke in an unintelligible bastardization of Russian. Where they had once held knives their hands were now little more than twisted masses of flesh and cartilage wrapped around metal shivs. Baseball bats fused with forearms and axes twisted around odd-angled limbs. Finally catching a proper flame the Sage fanned his fledgling fireball with his mind. In seconds it had gone from a candlewick to a regular bonfire. Satisfied that the Dreamer was stable, or at least stable enough, he stood and turned to face the encroaching horde. He adopted a defensive posture, striking at only what presented itself as an immediate threat.

“Just give up already, what do you care about him for?” Haunter asked and then added, “he’s nothing but a whackjob in a chicken mask.”

Before the Sage could respond a voice shot out from the tide of bodies, “hey fuckboi, you’ve got it backwards.”

The pokemon turned to see a gaping hole in his army of phantasm. A blood-soaked sphere in a tide of shadow, and at its heart stood a demon. The lower half of Kuzuru’s mask had been vaporized on impact, but beneath the residual gashes and burns a set of blood-stained pearly whites smiled at him from ear-to-ear. An aura of violet malignance radiated from the demon’s battered. Thin metal wires erupted from Kuzuru’s wrists and snaked through the marching crowd. A tide of barbed wire spooled out from beneath the demon’s flesh and wrapped around every available surface. It arced outwards in a cylinder formation around the three dreamers, twisting around buildings and lampposts and fire hydrants. A physical barrier of spiky metal formed a circular arena, trapping the three dreamers in with a portion of Haunter’s army.

“I live for this kind of stuff fucko,” Kuzuru shouted, “and you’ve made a big mistake shoving all this violence right in my face, I fucking love it, this is what gets me off at night, this is what I live for, in other words you moron, I’m in my element and right now you’re standing smack dab in the center of my world, and brother, you’re looking awfully appetizing.”

“Tough talk for a dead man,” Haunter responded, sticking his cartoonishly oversized tongue out.

“I’m no man.”

Without another word Kuzuru charged forth with renewed vigor. He moved through the twisted abominations as if they were made of water. His smile stretched across his face, a permanent fixture of the bloodthirsty demon. Haunter watched in impotent frustration as his forces were unable to puncture the barbed walls of Kuzuru’s colloseum, their common weaponry worthless against the physical wall of metal and spurs. His attention turned towards the Sage, who was keeping the thinning horde at bay. Things were beginning to spin out of control. Strong wills tugged at Haunter’s grip and his control over the astral threads began to slip away.

“Enough of this,” the dream-eater growled.

Miami began to dissolve as did the hordes of misanthropes. Beneath the trio the ground began to darken, turning into a thick sludge. Kuzuru’s conquest came to a halt as his targets melted like wax. A massive eye opened up at the center of the barbed colosseum. A sea of white housed a wretched pupil which stared blankly towards the sky. A red slit bisected the gargantuan eyeball and it began to open. Sprawling out beneath them the abyss opened wide. A bright pink tongue coiled out from the darkness and spiraled ever downward. A sudden change in pressure sucked the trio into the gaping maw and they were sent tumbling ever deeper into the rabbit hole.

They fell and they fell and they fell.

[spoiler] Activating Kuzuru’s tier 1 super move “Barbed Trap” for one post and his tier one power-up “Strength of the Damned” for 1 post. 1/4 SP remaining. [/spoiler]