Kill the Numbers [Dark Data]

[Miranda Frost]

This was complete and utter chaos. Darkloids of immense power opposed the loose alliance of primes who spent all they had to repel them. All of them had matched up with a darkloid or two, all except for Miranda. Syn, Claptrap, and Kuzu all left her vision, but the sounds of battle revealed their positions. Soon the two sides tore the place apart, pieces of rubble and stone flying through the air. Miranda would duck and weave, her blue eyes tracking each stone as they flew into her sphere of detection, which would seem to be severely diminished by the environment the group was trapped in. Unfortunately she wasn't fast enough for some pieces of rubble soaring through the air like deadly meteors. Some would glance off of her steel arms as she worked to swat away the pieces she couldn't dodge.

 The light of her blue eye would catch something else, a humanoid shape  charging at her flank. She didn't need to look directly at the figure to recognize it as one of the darkloids, though this one seemed to be clad in heavy armor, hoisting  a double edged blade in one hand and a heavy shield in the other. Miranda continued her movements to appear as if she'd hadn't noticed his approach until the very last moment when its blade fell down at a diagonal arc over her. Her movements were slow, but fluid. With a single step she was able to slip out of the attacks arc, her bladed claws grasping at the beings arm, the other grasping a hold of the  shield the darkloid was attempted to scrape off the white haired woman.

 Miranda smirked, her eye shining a blazing blue. Within her chest her crystal spun and discharged, pulsing its power throughout her body. Beneath her skin she could feel her muscles and blood boil as the power transmitted itself, discharging out at her back. This discharge would take the form of blue flames, forging themselves into six flickering wings. A sharp azure halo would spring into existence above her head.

 "I won't change for you", she'd murmer, the other darkloid's voice echoing within her skull. So their plan all along was to merely incorporate all within their realm of control? To what end exactly? In her thought, she'd find her claws exerting much more force now. She could feel its scales begin to crack and shatter.

Apparently this beast took exception to this. His powerful jaws would surge forward, but Miranda would have none of it. Her boot would kick forward, catching the Darkloid in the chest, sending it sliding backward. 

 It would let out a sinister hiss and roar before charging once more, its bronze blade lunging forward. Miranda was a bit more equipped now,  Her arm swatting its claws out dismiss fully.  Sparks flew as her claws caught its blade, knocking it to the side. The monster would thrust its shield out  but Miranda was easily able to step backwards out of its attack.

 The Darkloid would recover its blade and advance swiping its length down upon Miranda.  The white haired angel would reach up, catching the blade within her grip.

 She'd frown, her face darkening in expression. Why did everything in this realm have this dark feeling to it? Why did everything here want to consume, maim, and twist everything within sight or hearing? 

"I can touch, but I know you don't feel a thing", She'd say, her grip tightening, shattering the bronze blade in her grasp. 

"I can pray but I know you'll commit a sin", she'd declare, her right fist firing out against its shield, leaving a massive dent in its structure before swinging her foot around, her boot catching the lip of the shield and flinging it away.

"I can sense now it's all clear to see", she'd murmur, stepping into  the beasts guard, but it had recovered by now. Its now unoccupied hand would grip at her shoulder, its maw coming down upon her, its bite sinking into  her neck. 

 Wincing she'd  grasp at its neck, threatening to tear out its throat should it tighten its bite. She could nearly smell its fear. It was beautiful.

"You're no good and you mean no good, treacherously", she'd continue, Her other arm grasping at its sword arm, both of her claws clamping around it like a vice. She'd  Send her knee up into its gut, denting the armor that supposedly protected this being. She didn't end there, Until the darkloid would let her go she kept sending powerful blows its way, hammering that dent further into its gut. It wouldn't be long until simply wearing that deformed armor would be unbearable. As it stood, she held the advantage, no matter how gruesome  her neck injury was.

Activating t1 trans over alt form two:

 ATK: 7 DEF: 2 SPD:  3 TEC: 5

Engaging Warrior.

[Morene Fellon]

Morene's ears rang with headache-inducing intensity as Kuzuru's violently loud guitar erupted the eardrums of the Darkspawn copies in front of her. Laying them down with a nice meaty swing of her poleaxe's hammerhead wasn't difficult afterwards.

More importantly, it was satisfying in a way. The huntress had seemed so used to this chaos at this point, so something to spice things up a bit was necessary to keep her morale stable.


Even if it meant terrible sound turned into weaponry that seemed to have been so close to her head that it was a purposeful case of slight friendly fire from her "ally."

Thinking about this, that slight morale Morene thought about only a second ago lowered a considerable amount. The woman's teeth were clenched to the point of chipping at how annoyed she was with the demonchild carelessly firing wherever he pleased.

Metal plates clanked as the swordsman Darkspawn beneath Morene rose to it's feet. The woman sighed as she realized smacking Kuzuru again would have to wait, for the beast in front of her did not hesitate whatsoever in charging the woman.

"A break would be nice," the woman lowly mumbled to herself. Nobody else could hear Morene's words but herself, and she was too tired to care. Off in the distance, Ebony saw this and thought of an assortment of cool one-liners she might have shouted at that moment, but were perhaps muffled by the demon's loud strums. None of it was true however; the huntress really wanted to end this fast.

In the spirit of fast and efficient, the woman raised her poleaxe to guard her chest. The immediate feinted attack followed by the samurai was easy enough to read, so all Morene had to do was follow it up with a nice shove. Damaging? By all means, no.

Disorienting? For certain, wasting no time after watching the bladed warrior stumble back to charge another hammerhead strike.

The Darkspawn copy before her expected an immediate response, only to raise it's sword to protect itself from nothing. No more than half a second later did the actual poleaxe connect with the samurai's elbow.

Morene expected a disgusting pop to follow, but was almost dissatisfied to hear nothing but the crunching of loosely laced together plate.

Still, the samurai fell once more, this time his sword crashing to the ground with him. One of his limbs was snapped straight in half however, but alas, that did not stop him. Once more, the soldier of Nebula rose to it's feet, but Morene wasn't much prepared to deal with it this time. At the corner of her eyes slightly obstructed by her helmet, the firearm-wielding Darkspawn shot Ebony directly in the ribs. The huntress' heart sank, but she didn't have time to react as only a second later did the samurai's helmet collide directly into Morene's forehead.

Sure, two helmets crashing into each other wouldn't imply much damage, but it did accomplish worsening Morene's intense headache. Slight dizziness followed as the samurai's gauntlet smashed down onto her still-protected face. It was brutal, messy, and the unprofessionalism of it quite honestly annoyed the woman. Still, she couldn't do much as she fell bum first onto the floor.

Groaning in pain, the woman grasped at the beast's broken arm and tossed it's entire body to the side.

Claptrap continued to scream in excitement, and Morene swore she saw that strange woman almost as big as her smiling in her general direction.

Morene sat herself upright, taking a slight second to breathe and let the chaos sink in. Admittedly, it was hard to do so over the magic flinging, gun slinging, and guitar thrashing banging at her head constantly. Either way, there were things to be done. At the corner of her eye, the sight of a slightly limp Ebony reminded the woman what exactly she was here for.


Strangely, the samurai didn't go for Morene this time. The woman was confused initially, but the intent eventually dawned upon Morene as it waltzed off to the bulky white alien-like creature she hadn't seen before. An eyebrow raised beneath her helmet, watching it attempt to save his magician ally before being pummeled by the new Liberator in the group. Morene was flattered, realizing that the Darkspawn thought itself too ineffective to deal with a woman who had a dedicated weapon for denting armor like a car crashing into a lamp post.

At that point, she ran to the hooded scythe user, watching as her friend whose name went "Summer" held down the head of the firearm-wielding zombie right into a puddle of magma.

The huntress winced a bit at the crackling heat that followed. It didn't take much time for Morene to reach her friend still trying to catch her breath. Still.


From then on, things could only get worse.

807 words, post late by a few hours still.

Morene takes on the enraged samurai after Kuzuru activates his terrible-sounding guitar.

Samurai's arm becomes slightly disabled, which leaves plenty of room for Syn to pummel the poor creature into the ground, promptly impressing a slightly confused Morene.

Morene runs off to Ebony afterwards, seeing as she's injured and Summer handled himself well by shoving the face of the Gunslinger right into a sizable body of lava.

[Nebula]

Half of the cavern was crumbled in on itself. Another quarter of it had been burned by lava that oozed its way down from deeper into the mountain. Down on the main floor of what had once been the war room for the Ashen Steppes' Nebula Army was six liberation fighters, surrounded by the clone bodies of a Dragonborn Spellcaster. They all sized up the rest of the room, and then each other, as the confrontation came  to an end. They seemed to have won.

"Where's Claptrap? Kuzuru asked.

The answer came in the form of a loud, high-pitched squeal. Everyone spun to the direction of the noise as they watched Claptrap come flying towards them and landed with a thud and a slide on his side. "I'm okay!" He announced as he found his way back onto his wheels. "I'm fine! I'm fine! Thanks for asking!"

The seven of them were now in front of the balcony of the upper level of the cavern, where the Original Ashen Steppes Darkloid stood, his clawed hands resting on the railing. He didn't seemed scared, but his normal calm demeanor definitely had a crack in it. Everyone could tell the change in his manner. Perhaps he had underestimated them. Perhaps bringing them here, to his world was foolish. In an effort to give him the ultimate dark power, he might have inadvertently made them too strong for him to overcome.

The Darkloid disappeared into a watery mist for a moment, appearing moments later in front of the group of liberators. He held his spellbook in one hand, and a long purple staff in the other. He set the hilt of his weapon on the ground and his the book up. It began to glow. "I will give you one last chance." He told them.

"We're done playing your games," The man known as Summer spoke up. He was near the center of the group.

"Let's just get this over with already," said an annoyed Kuzuru. He had taken up a leadership spot in front of the others.

The Darkloid shook his head. The book began to shine brighter. The youngest of the group clearly tensed, sensing strong magic in the room all of a sudden. "You are all weak as you are now. You may have beaten some grunts and some copies, but you can never hope to best me, much less my master."

"You don't even know us!" Someone squeaked out all of a sudden. It was Morene.

The Dragonborn Spellcaster smirked. He seemed to regain some of his confidence. He was more comfortable now, as he felt the power from the book begin to radiate around his arm. It was powering through his limbs and torso and into his staff, which was visibly shaking. "I know much more then you might care to admit. You are all nothing but murderous mercenaries..." His eyes skimmed over Syn Shenron and Miranda Frost. "...lost rejects..." his pupils passed over Ebony, Morene and Claptrap, "...or vessels for powers beyond your comprehension." This time, he looked right at Summer and Kuzuru.

"He's doing something!" Ebony warned. It was obvious that he was casting something, but only she could tell that the size of the power he was drawing from that mysterious book into his staff. The top of the purple hilt began to glow much brighter, from dark violet to light fuchsia, and finally a heavenly white. "Get ready!" She warned.

The Darkloid disappeared again and then re-appeared in a flash of waves right in the middle of the Ashen Steppes Liberators. They all spun around to see him. "I will give you one last chance! One last offer to cast aside your weakness and embrace the power that Nebula can offer you! No more games, this time you will choose Power or Death, for real!" It was at that exact moment that the light erupted into a flashbang-type effect, blinding them all. "Make your decision!"

The noise of the explosion was loud initially, but then cut off suddenly. When each of the liberators opened their eyes, they found themselves alone, in a dimly lit room in the caves. In front of them was a pedestal with a Darkchip resting on top. There was a single door that would lead them out. In front of the Darkchip on the podium was a gold nameplate with their title on it. Next to the golden tag was a single word carved into the stone of the support: 'Choose!'

Claptrap and Syn Shenron take 6 points of damage (moderate injuries)
Miranda and Morene take 3 points of damage (minor injuries)
Kuzuru takes 3 points of damage from using another Darkchip. No additional injuries.
Summer and Ebony take 1 point of damage from normal wear and tear.

All seven of you are in individual rooms with a Darkchip in front of you. The Darkloid will take the form of someone or something close to you to convince you one last time to join him in Darkness. He will offer you this special Darkchip which is specific to you and will grant you significant powers (that I'll explain if you take it). Choosing to take this is an individual decision. You can take the chip (or not) and walk out of the room (into darkness or light, depending on what you chose). You have until Wednesday night at 11:59 EST to write up to 1,000 words in one roleplay.

Claptrap will be faced with Handsome Jack.

Syn Shenron will be faced with Perfect Omega Shenron.

Kuzuru will be faced with the Ouroboros Blade, in the form of Renji Kiyamasa.

Morene will be faced with Grigor the Gargoyle.

Miranda will be faced with her brother, November.

Ebony will be faced with a younger version of herself, Catherine Windsdale.

Summer and Sonny will be faced with a monster-version of themselves, claiming to be their true self.

[Miranda Frost]

At the end of that little skirmish, she stood tall, suffering only a minor bite wound to her neck and  few bruises over her abdomen  while her opponent stood ahead of her, barely able to hold its broken blade and dented shield. Beaten and bloodied, the dragon-born stood in a condition  none should fight in. The fighting paused, the darkloid's posture indicating their lack of will to fight.

 This particular battle was over.

 The spell-caster took the time to ramble on about the usual thing people do when they become desperate. However, these speeches are punctuated by a Hail Mary of sorts.

 Aye, there's the rub.

 Within a blink of an eye, the spell-caster moved in between the group. Miranda and the others turned and then...

 BOOM!

 Miranda's eye may have shut, but her awareness was never impeded. Her surroundings seemed to move seamlessly from the  site of the battle to a different room. Her eye would creak open viewing just ahead out of her normal radius of passive perception. Before her lay a white marble pedestal, engraved with the single word, "Choose".  

 Still on about this, was he? Why was he so desperate to keep us using the chips? Miranda's was already reduced to smoldering plastic. What more use could there be to it?

 Miranda would step towards the pillar, the light seemingly concentrated upon it. The blue light of her eye illuminated the room. How could any of this be real? Miranda knew first hand how reality could be bent in the Omniverse. Miranda's claws reached down for the chip, but a voice from the shadows halted her.

 "You're making a wise decision. I can't keep saving your skin like I used to", the voice would say as the figure stepped from the shadows into full view. The man was tall with black, silky hair, deep azure eyes, and fair skin, with a goofy ass smile she could have recognized anywhere. This man was her brother, November Frost. Miranda's claw would withdraw from the chip, the corners of her mouth tensing.

 Her memory wasn't the best here in the Omniverse. If anything, she was forgetting more and more by the moment. She remembered not much from her home-world, but she did remember a bit about her brother.

 Especially the one part where he gave his life so his dear sister would live. 

 Miranda's eye narrowed at the man before her, the blue color of her lenses shifting to a burning red. How could this man be November?  Throbbing pain wracked her mind. She held her head in the palm of her hands. How could this be true? How can this be real?

 She'd feel his gentle hand upon her head. "It's been a long time... You've grown so much. I'm proud of what you've become,", he'd say, giving pause to her. She remembered him like this. He was always soft and carefree, but always a competitive asshole when it came to fighting. This was a side that was reserved for people like her.

 "You.. shouldn't be here... How are you here?", she'd ask, her eye falling upon the blade on his back. If she remembered correctly, it was a family heirloom of some sort. The sword was a ceremonial one, its length being around six feet in total. Where the tip was supposed to be in such a blade was a six inch wide gap leading two feet into the blade wear another edge would be found. The sword was an executioner's weapon.

"The same way you are. I was called by the Glowing White guy, Omni", The man would say with a chuckle, his gloved hand sifting through her tangled, pale hair. Her eye remained on the weapon, nearly frozen in her tracks. He never used this weapon back home, she realized. The weapon was just too unwieldy and heavy. It was meant for beheading, not combat.  Her brother wielded a smaller, plain appearing long-sword. So what if he was supposedly a prime here? It made more sense to reach out for something familiar, like that one blade he always used.

 "That's good, I suppose, but that is not what I meant. How did you survive?", she'd ask, her eye changing color once more back to blue. She remembered the cracking of a gunshot, the blur as his body took its position in front of hers. The precision of the shooter was just as amazing as November's ability to move. The bullet carved a hole through to his heart and shredded it to pieces. 
 
 Miranda knew, because she saw the results of that shot first hand.

 "The shot was off a few millimeters to were my heart was, it passed through me harmlessly.", he'd say, giving her head another gentle pat.  Her claws would tighten into a fist.

 "No, It wasn't harmless. Harmless doesn't look like...", she'd say as she sent her fist into her chest, the hydraulics in her arm pumping to its max. Its chest would be the first to give way to her fist, the next would be its heart.  Miranda would pull away from this thing's body, her arm painted now with a new coat of crimson. Glaring down at the body, she'd sigh and kneel down. Her claw grasping a hold of the giant blade's hilt.

 "Fear is necessary for evolution, the fear that one could be destroyed at any moment. Thank you, November, because of you I endured the unendurable.", She'd say, lifting the giant cleaver into her hands, hoisting its weight without much effort upon her shoulders. "Thanks to you I've become much more than a mere knight."

 Miranda would turn, her eyes glancing at the marble pedestal, its chip nearly shining in the light. She'd take a step towards it. However, she'd find her other foot dragging with the weight of that man latching onto her ankle. 

"Take the chip! Without it you are nothing but a mere shadow of what you could be! With this you could be godlike. Just take it!", it would cry out in desperation. Miranda would have none of it and kick his hand away.

 "I'm not the smartest cookie in the jar but... I'm just a what was it? A murderous mercenary? You also toy with my memories, using what little I remember of my brother to attempt to manipulate me right?" , She'd say with a scoff, Holding the blade straight up, aiming its blade directly at that chip. "Maybe you should have worked on your sell's pitch before hand.", she'd taunt, bringing that blade down upon that chip. Such a weak creation couldn't stop this blade as it cleaved through its structure and through the marble pedestal it sat upon.

 The blade would crack and shatter, its shards scattering about the room's floor. Miranda would frown in disappointment, tossing the useless weapon away. "It would seem your illusion isn't the most believable. This was a stupid weapon, but it wouldn't break to something like this."

Miranda would turn and make her way to the door, spitting on the bleeding corpse-to-be. "I can only imagine how terrible everyone else's experience is."

[Summer]

A brilliant flash of light and a concussive blast from the Darkloid assaulted Summer’s senses. Blinding white filled his vision and an explosive ringing sang in his ears, both of which quickly began to fade away. White let up into the dim black of a cavern, its rocky walls illuminated only by the faint glow of a pedestal, standing ominously in front of the storm spirit. Summer took one cautious step forward, the quiet thump of his boot on stone cutting through the otherwise cruel silence, followed slowly by another. 

Affixed to the side of the pedestal was a golden placard with three small symbols engraved upon it, barely visible under the weak glow. 嵐 and 晴天 , arashi and seiten, storm and clear sky. Doing his best to ignore the kanji, the youkai’s eyes wandered slightly to the side, falling upon the word “Choose!” roughly carved into the side, and the up to the top of the pedestal, where a single Darkchip lay.

Nice, isn’t it?

The stagnant air of the cavern stirred into a faint breeze and whispered its words into Summer’s ears, before falling still again. He suddenly stood bolt upright, electricity crackling through his arms as he swivelled around, searching desperately for the source of the voice.

Well, I suppose you can’t tell. Yet.

Another calm gust swept to life, muttering in a way only the spirit of the weather understood. Summer stopped in his tracks, facing the back of the cave, but kept his fists up warily.

I’ve never been the best when it comes to matters of technology. I’ve been improving though.

“Show yourself,” the storm spirit hissed, eyes darting around every visible nook and crevice.

Gladly.

The ethereal voice took on a more muffled tone, masked by the cloud of fog slowly coalescing around him. Light from the pedestal diffused through the layer of fog, spilling its radiant glow across every corner of the cavern, and for once the room almost felt inviting. Shadows flitted through the ubiquitous glimmer, all diving together in a manner that almost seemed solid, quickly building up into the form of a humanoid silhouette in the haze. Summer gritted his teeth, the electrical current running through his body falling off. This wasn’t an enemy he could punch. 

Hello, Arashi.

The voice said, muffled through the fog and placing extra emphasis on the name.

“Nice to meet you, mysterious silhouette.” Summer growled, every muscle tensed and ready for action.

And you too, Seiten. I know you’re hidden somewhere in there.

“The pleasure is mine,” Sonny said politely.

“I thought one hint would be enough.” The storm spirit spoke once he was sure his other half was done talking. “Who the hell are you?”

Getting impatient, are we?

The shadowy figure suddenly disappeared, leaving only its echoing voice.

Too impatient, I’d say.

Suddenly its voice was right in the split spirit’s ear. Summer whipped around, swinging a powerful haymaker towards the noise. His fist cut through the fog, but found no victim. He caught himself, stepping hard into the ground to stop his turn, and now found himself facing the pedestal, where the silhouette was now standing. Despite the light emanating off of it, the shadow remained untouched, almost solid in its presence.

“That’s what I always say!” Sonny responded, stealing his voice for a bit. “He’s always rushing ahead with no regard for anything, leaving messes in his wake that I have to clean up!”

You’re not perfect either, Seiten. You know that as well as I do. So slow, so cautious, so... patient.

Sonny grumbled something under his breath in response to that, soon falling silent.

You see, I am you. The true you that’s been suppressed all these centuries. The you that’s been sitting back, trapped and split, ever since that damned magician tore you apart.

Summer shifted on his feet slightly, raising an eyebrow and listening intently.

I am the whole you, what you can become here, in the Omniverse. You can become me again.

“What’s the catch?” The storm spirit asked warily, lifting his chin up slightly.

There is no “catch.” This is a power you can take freely. Just take the chip and it will all be yours again.

The silhouette flickered, and suddenly it was standing behind the pedestal, still as shadowy as ever.

Go on. You know you want this power again. The full power of the weather at your beck and call. You will never have to squabble over storms or sun again. You will never have to clean up each other’s messes, because for the first time in centuries. You will be whole again.

It’s last words boomed out, grandiose promises shaking the very foundation of the cavern.

“And all I need to do is take the chip, huh?” Summer mumbled, wading forward through the fog, eyes fixed on the prize. A small burning sensation sprang to life in his chest, spreading a small blossom of warmth through his blood. He placed hand and stump on either side of the pedestal and stared down at the tiny, electronic device. “Just take the chip and that power I’ve been missing will be mine again?”

“That’s uh...” Sonny mumbled, pausing for a moment. A small bit of power tore itself free from Summer, materializing outside of his body as gaseous light. The weak, silvery glow that suffused the cavern brightened tremendously, and suddenly it was as though they were in a world of bright, white clouds. “That’s what he said.” The sun spirit took shape where the shadowy figure had been not moments before.

“Of course it’d be so easy,” Summer spat, marble cracking beneath his fingers. “Centuries of research and toil, trying every trick in the book we know just to dissolve this split, all those different magics we dabbled in to no avail. We’ve consulted with and killed people, monsters, hell, even gods, living a dangerous life that finally came back to kill me at the hands of that god damned squirrel. And you’re telling me all that work I put in is completely pointless just because you happen to have some random, hacked-together piece of metal and plastic on hand that can resolve all this!?” The edge of the pedestal shattered completely under his rage-fueled grasp. He raised his good hand high above the Darkchip.

Don’t!

“Summer!”

Two voices barked simultaneously, one corporeal and one ethereal, just before he threw his fist at the computer chip. A flash of light enveloped both the device and the hand, draining all the strength out of the strike. His fist bounced uselessly off the pedestal. 

“Think. This. Through.” Sonny growled, one hand raised. It was his energy-dispersing magic that had saved the chip. For now. “Look, it might not sound pleasing to you, but think about it. This could be our chance. Who knows how long it could take us to fix the split on our own. Our whole life has been leading up to this point. We’ve fought tooth and claw to get this far, we’ve died and reborn, we’ve made ourselves interesting enough to Omni that he plucked us out of our home and dropped us here. It’s been a journey of two thousand years, but here we are. It’s brought us right to our way out. We can’t let this opportunity slip by us.”

Yes, listen to your light of reason, Arashi. Don’t let your rashness cloud your thoughts.

“You listen here, Sonny.” Summer hissed his other half’s name. “Sure, this is an easy way out, a nice little shortcut to get us out easily, but look at the facts. We’ve seen first hand what these things do to people. If we take this, not only are we indebted towards the very things we’ve been beating back, it will turn us into one of them. We might get a fleeting taste of our old power back, but at the cost of our freedom, the cost of ourselves. We are Summer Murdoch, spirit of the storms and the sun, spirit of the winds, of the blue sky. In all our centuries of living, we haven’t bowed to anyone, not Kings, not Emperors, not Deities, not even the Old Gods themselves. We are not going to bend the knee to some nebulous, unknown entity just because he tempted us a bit.”

“Do you want a repeat of the hero’s graveyard, Summer?” Sonny shot back in a pointed tone, leaning in even closer. “We had a chance there, we could have seen what happens when a split even stronger than our own breaks. We could have witnessed the Spirit, who was broken into five god damn pieces return to one. And you blew it. You got hungry, you abandoned Amaterasu, of all people, you went off gallivanting on your own, and you got us killed, again. We have a second chance right here, in our grasp, and you’re about to completely ruin it again. Think. About. It. We might not have a third chance. This could very well be it for us.”

“Would you fucking listen to me for once!” Summer planted his hands on both sides of his other half’s face and dragged him even closer. “If we take that, we won’t be us anymore. We’ll become Nebula’s dog. Mindless. Loyal. Always ready to do whatever master says. Sure, it might take us another two thousand year journey to find our answers, but at the end of that journey, we’ll still be us. We don’t need to rely on a bunch of silly, wannabe demon lords to figure this out. Got it?”

“Hm... fine...” Sonny mumbled through squished cheeks.

“Great!” Like flipping a switch, suddenly the storm spirit’s voice was cheery. And just to punctuate his point, he yanked down with all his might. His other half’s head slammed against the chip and pedestal with a monstrous cracking sound. Metal and stone shrapnel exploded every which way as the sheer amount of force behind that bony bludgeon shattered the Darkchip and its display. Sonny’s body was rent apart in an instant, dissolving into a glowing mist that flowed back into Summer.

Fool! You could’ve had it all.

The ethereal voice hissed, echoing through its fog. 

“Terms and conditions may apply.” Summer added on with an unnatural coldness to his voice, straightening right back up. “Come on. You’re me, you should know how to press my buttons better than that. Y’know, if you really are me, then I pity you. All that power, and it’s pointless because you can’t rampage of your own accord.” A chill welled up in the spirit’s body. “So, let me put you out of your misery.”

You can’t kill yourself, Arashi.

The mysterious, incorporeal voice suddenly had a note of panic in it.

“Watch me.” He stated. A frigid wind rushed out from the winter spirit’s body. All at once, the mist in the air froze, clumping together in large, icy lumps on every surface they could. Including the supposed silhouette. Thick ice swiftly froze and layered over the black form, clinging solidly in spite of its attempts to run. Its movements quickly ground to a halt as a durable coating of ice froze its joints in place, and all of a sudden, it just collapsed, hitting the ground with a loud clatter. 

“That was rather cold of you, Summer.” Sonny said after a moment, voice monotonous.

“What can I say, I’m not an ice person,” the spirit shot back, brushing frost off of his jacket. 

“Icy...” He dragged out the ‘ee’ sound.

“Well, now you snow...” Summer carefully stepped towards the door, doing his best not to slide on the layer of ice on the ground, or trip over the frozen corpse. “It was really ice of him to provide that fog. Couldn’t have killed him otherwise... Wait I already used that one.”

“That aside.... Thanks, Summer. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Sometimes you need clouds. ‘Else you get blinded by the light."

“I suppose so.”

2000 Words exact

[Morene Fellon]

Every one of the Liberators had a decision to make now, whether they liked it or not. Morene was no exception, and as soon as a ping of shock ran down her augmented spine upon seeing Grigore return to face the huntress, she knew of the Darkspawn's intentions.

Looking around as she approached, the faces she saw confronting her allies were... unfamiliar. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots and guess that this was a blatant and forced manipulative scenario designed to trap fools into the gaping maw that is the dark energy of Nebula and it's supposed corrupting powers.

A few more steps was all it took to feel the gargoyle's breath at her face again, the woman's helmet now lowered to stare the man in his eyes.

His blue noble robes, slicked back hair, curled horns and large curved blade by his side were unmistakable qualities of Grigore. Not even a devilish Nebula-influenced aura surrounded by the likes of the Darklings was visible on the man's stone-like skin. All of it made Morene slightly excited, in all honesty. The chance to talk to this honestly interesting, if not flawed individual once again was something she only dreamed of doing until now.

His breath was clean, as usual. She remembered that much from her last fight with the creature; he had a knack for appearance and presentation, despite being a creature of the night himself. That alone almost gave Morene Fellon second thoughts about the legitimacy of this Darkspawn copy, but...

"Morene Fellon," he spoke, "it has been quite some time."

His voice was low and baritone as she remembered. Still, the doubts creeped at Morene's mind anyways. She wanted  to believe she could have a second start with this powerful being, or at least learn of his true intentions, but alas, he continued.

"You are not inclined to believe me, I know you never were," Grigore sighed, "but this could be the start of something greater than Abucairo ever would be. You were the only one worthy."

A smile creaked at the woman's lips, staring at the Darkchip now seeming to float within the gargoyle's palms. How flattering! She thought, holding back a bit of a giggle. The amusement didn't last long, however. Slowly, Morene's face turned into that of a melancholic expression.


"You are not him," Morene claimed, looking down as if her vowed enemy wasn't there in the first place. She elaborated further, hoping perhaps this "Grigore" fake would prove her wrong anyways.

"He would not have went after such petty sources of power."

Silence followed short. The only thing the huntress could do after that is walk away with a reminder.


In the Omniverse, there are no true traces of home.

458 words.

Short and sweet is how this refusal went about; Morene walks away from the Darkchip's corrupt influence once more.

[Ebonywood Hellscythe]

“W-wha?”
 
Ebony blinked rapidly, trying to clear the flash from her eyes. Her body swayed side to side while she rubbed her forehead. Taking a step forwards, she winced. It didn’t hurt as much as before, but even after being removed the bullet left a dull ache. At least the bleeding had stopped.
 
Huh, why was I bleeding?
 
She called out, dreading the reality: she’d been separated again – but from whom, her memory eluded her. Everything was fuzzy. She turned around, hoping to get better luck looking behind her, only to be met with a dull rocky wall.
 
Ebony shivered, reaching up and pulling her hood down to her chin. The fabric stretched against her face, but she could breathe through it well enough. With quivering fingers, Ebony let go, moving her arms to hug against her chest while the hood snapped upwards. It still covered the tops of her eyes, allowing shadows to drape across her face in the scarce light.
 
“Whooah! Are you…” A childish voice, full of awe. Ebony recognised it from somewhere, but she couldn't quite lay her finger on it. Regardless, she spun around in the direction of the voice, her cloak twisting before swaying back as a consequence of the momentum. Identical vibrant green eyes locked briefly before hers flickered to examine the child.
 
The girl had long blond hair, slightly shorter than Ebony's but much messier. It looked like she'd taken 3 years of bed head and thrown them all into one hairstyle. A baggy yellow dress hung over her body, just covering her thighs – the fabric was littered with grass stains, as were the girl’s knees, which was strange considering the cave setting. She wasn’t much shorter than Ebony, perhaps four to five inches at most, but almost half of that was due to Ebony's boots.
 
A big toothy grin donned the blonde's face; some of the lower back teeth were missing, adding to the childlike nature of the smile. “You’re Ebonywood Hellscythe!” She fumbled about, pulling a book out of a compartment in the wall. Under her breath, she mumbled to herself, loud enough for Ebony to hear, “I’m prepared for this.”
 
The Further Adventures of Ebonywood Hellscythe: Volume I
 
A sketch of a flaming scythe was pinned to the leather cover.
 
Ebony tilted her head slightly, confused, still not comprehending the situation in full. The girl continued looking at her with starry eyes. Moving forward, she guided Ebony backwards, lightly pushing her down onto a previously unseen wooden chair.
 
“I know this is a lot to take in, but… you’re actually a fictional character.” She grabbed one of Ebony’s hands with her own and clasped it with both of her palms. “Don’t be scared, but I wrote you.” Flipping the book over revealed a short, handwritten blurb, and beneath it a neat cursive name: Catherine Windsdale.
 
Shuddering under her cloak at the memory that identity brought, Ebony’s mind clicked. She was talking to herself – from years ago. She wasn’t quite sure where they were exactly, but the girl in front of her was the Catherine she used to be. Somewhat confusingly, but understandably, the girl thought she was Ebonywood Hellscythe. The real, or actually unreal, Ebonywood Hellscythe. 
 
It was mentally jarring. Talking to one’s past-self, especially one buried so deep in the back of her mind despite the relatively short number of years that passed, wasn’t something she ever expected to encounter. Ebony just stared at her counterpart’s eyes, letting the seconds pass without saying anything.
 
“I knew I should have explained it more gently,” Catherine whispered to herself, apparently thinking aloud, before speaking up – her hands clenched slightly around Ebony’s as she did so. “My name is Catherine, and I’m your biggest fan, Ebony! This might be a bit confusing for you, but this is like my dream come true!” 
 
Ebony had distinctive memories of wishing for Ebonywood Hellscythe to climb in through her tower window and take her, Catherine, on adventures. Catherine’s comment about this being her dream come true was undoubtedly an understatement. And Ebony didn’t want to crush that. Thus, she found herself playing into the act.
 
“You’re… You’re my… fan?” The girl had crouched slightly, allowing Ebony to speak at eye level.
 
Catherine grinned. “The biggest!” She released Ebony’s hand, getting one last touch of the glove as she did so.
 
Ebony tried to raise an eyebrow but ended up twisting her face in an odd manner. “You don’t look very big.” She grinned.
 
“You know what I mean, silly,” Catherine pouted, puffing out her chest and standing up straight. “Someday I’m going to be like you!”
 
“Oh?” Even in her second attempt, Ebony still butchered the raising of an eyebrow. There was a surprising amount of truth to that statement, both in what the girl meant and from Ebony’s perspective.
 
“Yeah! I’m going to be able to do magic someday, and I’ll get a cool scythe, and I’ll go on adventures.”
 
Ebony tilted her head, amused. She stood up to join Catherine.
 
“Where actually is your scythe?” Catherine asked while reaching up with a hand to try and flatten parts of her hair.
 
Pausing in thought for a moment, Ebony busied herself with pushing the air down on Catherine’s head with her magic, blowing it into a neater shape. “It’s magic. I can summon it whenever I want.”
 
Catherine rubbed her new hairstyle before looking up at Ebony with beaming eyes. “Show me! Show me! I wanna see! That sounds awesome!”
 
Ebony blushed slightly under her hood from the praise. Finally, someone understands. Although that person was also herself, so perhaps that could have been considered cheating. “Okay, just stand back. I need some room to do the magic.”
 
The girl stepped backwards, watching intently. For a brief moment, a small shadow shrouded Catherine’s face. And then it was gone. Ebony dismissed it as consequence of the poor lighting and weakly shook her head, blinking.
 
“Are you ready?”
 
A very large grin rose on Catherine’s face as she visibly shook with anticipation, gazing attentively.
 
Ebony firmly planted her feet down on the ground and stuck her left arm out to the side. She closed the open palm into a fist, creating a magical breeze blowing her cloak. Completing the motion, she jerked the arm back in, holding it horizontal along her waist while twisting her other arm up to her face. “Forces of the darkness, stand by my side; grant me a weapon, use my power from inside.” She stretched her arms forwards, feeling the forming weapon as she spoke. Her eyes flickered to red as she spun the hellscythe in the air – warm, yet harmless, wisps of magical purple flame trailed in its wake.
 
Catherine’s jaw dropped as she struggled for words. “C-c-can I touch it.”
 
Ebony considered that for a moment. It was hot, and it was only due to her gloves and magic that she could handle prolonged contact comfortably. She grinned, pulling up her hood magically, “I can do even better.”
 
Levitating her scythe in the air, Ebony handed her gloves over to Catherine. “You’re going to need these.” She took off her cloak, also levitating that behind her. She rubbed her arms and shoulders, unused to standing without the weight of the fabric. “And, you’ll want this.” She added, guiding the cloth around Catherine’s body. It was a bit large for her, but the back of the cloak didn’t drag against the floor, so it was good enough.
 
“W-w-w-w-whaaa…” Catherine reached up to raise the hood so she could see. Her eyes locked onto the floating scythe in front of her. Tentatively, she reached out, touching it with her fingertips. “It’s warm,” she whispered. Excitedly, she finished the endeavour by swiftly grabbing the staff with her new, borrowed, gloves.
 
Carefully, Ebony moved away, lest she get caught by the blade during the girl’s eagerness. She smiled from the nostalgic feeling it brought. While not fond of ever heading back to that time, preferring to suppress the memories and hide away her past, she had to admit it had its ups among the downs. She leant back against the rocky wall, enjoying the fiery disco.
 
She flinched, noticing one of the swings to be noticeably more violent than the others; shadows hid Catherine’s face, but that was only natural due to the cloak. Ebony dismissed it as her being unnecessarily jumpy, shaking her head. Nonetheless, she chose to use it as a sign to move to something else. Thus, it shifted to Ebony showing Catherine her other cool spells, reclaiming her outfit to do so.
 
Amidst the casting of an air spell, Catherine spun around abruptly, running to collect some of the other books, the last of which didn’t have a cover image. “That reminds me, I don’t know what point of the story you’re from!” Catherine narrowed her eyes, glancing over Ebony’s body. “Hmm… You’re older than in this book,” she waved Volume IV in the air (with the fifth being the unfinished one). Her eyes widened, “why don’t you tell me your stories!”
 
Ebony opened her mouth instinctively, about to describe the battle with the darklings – against Nebula, before frowning. Recent memories swam to the front of her mind. Sonny, Summer, Morene. They all needed her help. How could I forget? “I… I’ve got to go back.”
 
“W-what? Why? You only just got here?” Catherine latched onto her arm, weakly holding her in place.
 
“My friends need me.” Ebony’s mouth curled into a grim smile. “We’re saving the world.”
 
Again, the shadows clung to Catherine’s face, and through them, Ebony thought she saw a dark frown. Yet, everything was back to normal so quickly, she doubted herself yet again.
 
Catherine let go, gesturing to a stone pedestal. A small chip rested on the top. “I made this for you; it’ll make you stronger. If you must go, take this with you!”
 
Reaching out an arm, Ebony’s fingers curled, almost touching it.
 
They snapped away at the last second.
 
“Take it.” The tone was oddly commanding, even if the pitch suggested otherwise.
 
Ebony shook her head to clear her mind, unintentionally signifying refusal.
 
“Join me.”
 
She looked at ‘Catherine’, finally seeing through the ruse. “How can you be here? This shouldn’t be possible.”
 
The girl’s expression turned innocent, showing fear. “W-what do you mean? I should be asking y-you that question.”
 
Ebony relaxed her demeanour, taken aback by the display. Yet her self-doubt was quickly squashed by the reforming of shadows around the girl; these ones remained, accenting the dark expression on the girl’s face.
 
“The power of Nebula allows for many things. Join us, make the choice and it can all be yours.” While not something Catherine would say, it still used her unaltered voice.
 
A painting of a boat materialised on the wall, yet under closer inspection, the picture seemed to be moving – the ship was slowly sinking under the waves. 
 
“His power is limitless. Take it, and it will bend to your will.”
 
The implications of this were not lost on Ebony. This was her chance. She could finally take matters into her own hands. She had to make this choice.
 
Reaching out one last time, she grabbed the darkchip in her hand, walking towards the exit; the shade lapped at her feet. She squeezed her palm into a fist around her ‘gift’, holding it close to her chest.
 
In truth, she didn’t feel very different, or more powerful.
 
At least, not until she dropped it, crushing it under her boot. It shattered into millions of tiny pieces. There would be other ways home, and whatever that thing offered – it would never match the feeling of strength that came from its refusal.
 
Ebony spun around, leaning back into the gateway, locking eyes with the disguised Darkloid.
 
“No.”
 
It growled, darkness lashing towards her while her world faded to white.
 
She would find a way home, but not like this. She’d help her friends: all of them.

2000 words (MS Word)

[Professor Sunshine]

As Syn opened his eyes, after recovering from the bright flash of light, the first thing that the Shadow Dragon noticed was that he was seemingly by himself in a dimly lit room with only a table with some sort of chip on it, and a door leading to who knows where. Trying to think of what had happened, Syn remembered the bright flash from the Darkloid's staff, so he assumed that he was probably sent to this room in who knows where due to whatever the Darkloid did after the bright flash. Before he could try to leave however, he was stopped by a figure in the shadows, who grabbed him by the arm as he tried to leave.

As Syn tried to look at the shadowy figure, he noticed that it was none other than himself, but unlike Syn, this figure looked more bulky and powerful, with a dark aura. But what Syn noticed the most about this mysterious figure was that on his chest, the Shadow Dragon could see that he had 7 Cracked Dragon Balls on his chest, which Syn was surprised at since he thought that he was the only one who could absorb the Cracked Dragon Balls, and that there were only 7 of them to be found, but with this version of him existing, apparently all that was out the window now.

A few seconds later, Omega began to speak to Syn in a ominous tone "Hold it. Before you leave, you should probably stay and take this Data Chip that is on the table." As Omega said this, he gestured down at the Dark Chip so that Syn could notice it. "We are both the same person, but I represent the peak of your powers, which you could use for anything you ever wanted. Power, pure destruction, and the control over everything, it would be all yours, and to reach that peak all you would need to do is accept this chip, and use it."

"Do you expect me to be a fool? You and I could be or not be one and the same, but while I may take any way I can to seize more power and cause more death, I do not trust this because without any actual proof, for all I care it is just a ordinary chip." While saying those words, Syn took some time to think about what to do, and while he did not want to take the data chip on the table since he was not sure what it would even do, but if he could trick this Omega Shenron to come with him outside, then maybe he could try to learn on how to reach his full power as well. "I'm leaving. If you want to come with to help me take care of the Darkloid, then come with, but if you don't then just fuck off."

"So you still want to take him down, even without the power that this data chip can bring you, huh? Fine then. I guess if you need proof, then I will show you how much more powerful you could become with these data chips." With those words said, Omega Shenron quickly began to scream as he hold up what looked like a ordinary data chip, but as the data chip activated, the perfect Shadow Dragon burst into a flaming aura, colored black and blue, and as Omega walked around to show off his power, he left destructive flames wherever he walked. "Don't you see Syn, with these chips you will finally be able to achieve feats like this, and with enough preparation, you could even rule the Omniverse like a-"

Before Omega Shenron could continue, he could feel a blinding pain as Syn Shenron kicked him in the crotch and caused him to fall over, his flaming aura evaporating. "You know, you almost won me over with that flaming aura destroying wherever you walked,
but as soon as you said the word rule, I knew you were a lie. I have no idea who you are or why you are copying me, but you made one fatal mistake while trying to pretend to be me. You see, I do not want to rule the Omniverse, no instead I want to destroy it, and while it may take a long time, I will eventually do it, with or without your help."

By the time Syn finished saying those words, Syn spat at the fake Shadow Dragon and began to look away from him, before grabbing the Dark Chip, putting it on the ground, and stomping on the chip to break it into as many pieces as he could. After making sure no more pieces of the Dark Chip were left, he slowly walked out of the room, into a bright light.

Sorry it's a bit late, but it is 828 words according to site. Syn denies getting help from the Dark Chip.

[Claptrap]

Claptrap blinked a few times as he recovered from the flash of light. Where was he? The room he found himself in was empty, except for a door and a pedestal. Everyone else had vanished. "Hello? Anyone?" Claptrap called, the only response being silence.

The robot approached the pedestal and examined it. A series of titles were scrawled on and crossed off the pillar, including 'Claptrap', 'Fragtrap', 'Prototype' and 'Mistake'. The only title not crossed out was 'CL4P-TP unit.' The word 'choose' was also emblazoned across it. 

Unfortunately, Claptrap was too short to see what was on the pillar. Shrugging, the robot turned to leave, but before he could he heard a sound coming from the darkness. Footsteps and... Slow clapping? Claptrap turned to see who it was and froze in his tracks. Staring back at him was the masked face of Handsome Jack. 

"Nice work, Clappy, I didn't think you would make it this far." He said, his ever present smug grin even more pronounced. "You have no idea how impressed I am that this little steward bot beat his way past all those darklings. Well, you couldn't have done it without my vaulthunter.exe, of course, so I might just take a little credit." 

Claptrap's mind raced. How was Jack here? Why wasn't he dead? Why weren't they fighting to the death right now? Jack approached the pedestal and picked up what was on it. It was another dark chip. "Look, I know I kind of tried and almost succeeded to exterminate your product line, but I was losing my mind. Don't worry, I'm better now. This place has great therapy." 

Jack held the chip between his index finger and thumb, showing it to Claptrap. "See this? Do you know what this is?" Claptrap trembled for a moment, there was something off about Jack. He was too eager, not as composed as he would normally be. Claptrap never liked how cold he was before but this was unnatural.

"I-It's a Darkchip." Claptrap stammered. Jack smirked even harder. "Not necessarily. This is the new and improved vaulthunter.exe. This is months of work in one chip. All you need to do is take it." He held it out to Claptrap, his eyes manic, desperate even, for the robot to take it.

"I-I s-saw you die in the-the vault of the warrior." Claptrap managed to sputter. Jack's face grew angry for a second, before changing back to its normal, smug expression. "Come on, Claptrap, don't you even know me? It was a body double!" Claptrap paused. That made sense. There was just one problem. "OK Jack, give me the chip."

"Atta boy, Claptrap." Jack said, grinning madly as he handed the robot the chip. His grin turned to a shocked look as Claptrap smashed the chip on the ground. "NO NO NO, what are you doing?!" Jack shouted, before he was silenced with a blow to the gut. As 'Jack' gasped for air, Claptrap did his best impression of a heroic laugh. "Hahaha, nice try, but I wasn't at the vault of the warrior! Jack installed a flight of stairs so I couldn't reach him." 

The Handsome Jack clone did his best to rise to his feet, still winded from the surprise blow. "But that doesn't mean I didn't use a body double." He wheezed. Claptrap froze. He was right. He then broke out into another round of laughter. "Either way, I don't care about your chip." Claptrap turned and started to leave while doing his best at flipping the bird. "See ya in hell, buddy. Except I won't, because you'll be in human hell, and I'll be in robot hell, but, you know what I mean."

640 words.
Claptrap rejects the chip.

[Kuzuru]

Kuzuru blinked. His pupils constricted in response to the pearly white environment he found himself in. He sniffed the air. Absent was the heady scents of char and blood, replaced by a disappointing sterility. Now that he had some peace and quiet he became aware of a shrill ringing that buried itself in his eardrums, no doubt the side effects from being on the business end of several hundred decibels worth of explosions. Every inch of his body was plagued with some manner of bruise, burn, or laceration. Not that he necessarily minded, after all a battle wouldn’t be fun without the risk of death, but every fresh wound throbbed and stung and ached. Buzzkill, Kuzuru figured, this whole place was just one big cocktease. He scowled.

The darkchip-forged guitar hung low at his hip, the shoulder straps poorly adjusted for his height. He grabbed at the instrument’s neck and pulled it into a more comfortable position. The entire thing radiated a pleasant warmth, it was hard to say whether that was a residual feature of the Steppes or a more intrinsic property, but regardless it just felt right in his hands. His free hand thumbed at the tight strings, feeling the tension that kept them tuned. Closing his eyes he picked out a few chords, smiling as the discordant noise echoed outwards.

“You need to leave,” a familiar voice cut through the guitar’s cry, “now.”

Kuzuru opened his eyes and found that his surroundings had changed ever so slightly. He was no longer alone and there was now a pedestal with, quite literally, his name on it. Atop this ornate plinth sat a darkchip, seemingly made for the demon himself. The man with the long black hair was none other than Renji Kiyomasa. the original owner of Kuzuru’s current body.

“Hey there sugarfoot,” Kuzuru said, waved, and then added, “shouldn’t you be locked up?”

“I’m not looking to parlay with you demon, I’m here to make sure you make the right decision,” he answered.

“That so?”

Kuzuru’s crimson eyes flicked over to the darkchip. He licked his lips. His eyes dart back to Renji. The swordsman kept his hand resting on the sword at his hip, no doubt ready to draw it at the first sign of commotion. The demon stroked the body of his guitar and took a step towards the pedestal. In response Renji stepped between the two and drew his sword. The blade hummed, vibrating ever so slightly. Kuzuru held up his hands in surrender and chuckled.

“I’m just takin’ a look is all,” he said, “so slow your roll cowboy.”

“Leave,” Renji responded, nodding towards the open door.

Kuzuru groaned, “oh what’s the matter Renji-boy? You too good for me now that you’re a convict?”

“You can do what you will with my body,” he answered, “but, I’m not about to sit here and let you destroy every soul trapped in this blade.

“Ohoho, is that what those little darkchips have been doing?” Kuzuru clapped his hands together, “I just thought they would give me a hellish hangover or something, but this, this is interesting.”

“Leave.”

“Jeeze, when did you get so forceful Renji-boy? If you weren’t such a pain in my ass I’d be impressed,” Kuzuru said, “at any rate, I don’t think you’re in a position to stop me, in case you’ve missed the memo I’m kind of a bad ass motherfucker, and you’re a ghost trapped in my gut, one that’s about to get exorcised with that lovely D-chip there.”

“You moron,” Renji responded, “you draw your power from us, if we are erased you’re nothing.”

Kuzuru laughed and said, “au contraire babycakes, this is the Omniverse baby, and I’m a prime and in case you’ve forgotten I draw my power from omnilium now, so you noisy jackoffs give me nothing but a headache.”

Before the swordsman could react Kuzuru brought his hand down and slammed into a meaty lick of his guitar. The resulting cacophony slammed into Renji. In the resulting confusion Kuzuru stepped forward and grabbed the neck of his guitar with both hands. The demon held the axe over his shoulder and swung for the fences. To the demon there was no greater sound than the particular one made as his guitar smashed into the swordsman’s jaw. Renji was sent tumbling while Kuzuru reached for his prize. In one foul swoop the demon grabbed the darkchip and swallowed it.

For a moment nothing happened. Then, his veins began to boil and every square inch of his skin was ravaged by millions of invisible razor blades. He shuddered and stumbled around like a drunkard. Deep wracking coughs tore themselves free from his throat, bringing with them a deluge of blood. Every fiber of his body was trying to reject the foreign object, his own anatomy having more common sense than his consious mind. His eyes, now filled with ruptured blood vessels, turned towards a figure looming overhead. Renji Kiyomasa, unscathed by Kuzuru’s assault, stood with a wicked smile across his lips.

“You’ve made the right choice,” the doppleganger spoke.

Kuzuru laughed until his chortling devolved into a bloody mess of painful wheezing. He had been played like a damned card.

“Promise me,” Kuzuru choked out between fits.

Renji raised an eyebrow.

“Promise me, that” he began again, pausing to catch his breath, “that this is at least going to be one hell of a ride.”

Kuzuru uses a charge of the DISCORD darkchip 1 charge remains.
Kuzuru activates the mystery darkchip offered to him.

[Nebula]

Six liberators walked out of their dimly lit rooms after conversations of varying degrees of violence, into a shining bright light. It enveloped their senses, until they had no practical way of knowing where they were anymore. There was nothing behind, under or above them. Then, the Nebula Space began to fade back into view around them, until all six found themselves together again. They were no longer inside a cavern, but rather above one. They were on the top of the mountain they had all been climbing since arriving in Nebula Space. There were little craters of lava, but the most spectacular thing to see was the view of the corrupted verse around them. Fiery rivers and strangely-colored forests littered the landscape. It was like a beautiful Hell.

"It looks like we all made the right decision," one of them spoke as they started to get their bearings. It was Summer. He had already deduced that they all must have gone through the same thing.

"Good," Ebony said, from next to him. She wasn't smiling, as she might typically have been prone to do. She obviously still had her encounter in the room on her brain.

Surprisingly, it was Syn Shenron who spoke up next. "No," he said, his voice deep and booming. All the heads (or bodies, in Claptrap's case) turned to look at him. His arms were folded across his broad chest. "There is only six of us. We are missing one."

Everyone began to take a muster who was there. Syn Shenron. Morene Fellon. Summer Murdoch. Claptrap. Ebony Hellscythe. Miranda Frost. "Where is Kuzuru?" Miranda asked, though she imagined that she already knew the answer. "That bastard. He didn't...did he?" She started to bargain with herself on the odds of whether or not Kuzuru would take the offer that all of them had previously declined. She hated to admit that of the seven of them, he would the most likely to consider it. But to actually take it? To willingly put himself at risk for power? On second thought, she decided, that sounded exactly like Kuzuru.

"There he is." Ebony pointed a skinny digit in front of her. Everyone turned to see. Sure enough, Kuzuru was walking up to the group, his sword sheathed at his side and a guitar wrapped around his shoulder, over his back. "With him." Her emphasis was on the Darkloid, who walked next to the swordsman in beige, desert-themed robes. His crimson dragon scales shimmered in the light radiating from lava nearby. Behind the group came some familiar faces: Darkling Knights who were appearing from the exits of the caverns underneath them. They were becoming surrounded.

"This is where we will have our last stand," The Darkloid commented. He always had been a fan of long speeches before confrontations. "I may not have successfully made you all Darkspawn, but still in the end I received a champion. And now we will destroy you, then the Ashen Steppes, and finally Nebula will recognize our - my - greatness!"

The group readied themselves for combat. They began to form a circle, facing outwards as they were surrounded by Darkling Dragon Knights. "Kuzuru, explain yourself!" Miranda Frost demanded. She took the center position in the group, where he might have previously been. He had been the unofficial leader of this ragtag combination of Blades and wanderers. Now she filled that void. "What are you thinking?!"

Kuzuru lifted his face off. At first, they might have suspected he was being brainwashed. But the smile on his face said otherwise. It was hungry. It was classic, crazy Kuzuru. "Miss Frost," he said, almost sarcastically. "Miranda. I told you at the very beginning. We are Primes. We were created for this kind of forbidden power. This is what I live for!" In one fluid motion, he brought his sword out from the sheath and held it front of him. From behind him came two over-sized wings of ebon and violet, fluttered at length on either side of him. They took on some air underneath him, letting him float slightly above ground, menacingly grinning down at his once-companions.

This is where the end began. Six liberators surrounded by mindless Darkspawn, a Dragonborn Spellcaster and Kuzuru, the leader of the Ashen Blades.

Kuzuru has received and activated DARK CHIP: DARK ANGEL. He is granted metallic-like purple and black wings with a span of 20 feet. Not only does this let him fly, but he can shoot some of the 'feathers' out as a ranged attack and hit things from a distance, though with mediocre accuracy.

Kuzuru takes 10 points of damage (at this point around half health left) from using his third dark chip AND using it at the same time his previous one is activated. Despite the power he has, he is in a lot of pain as the chips are draining at his life force and putting his body to work overtime. He will be constantly fluttering between his own wishes and desires, and that of a mindless Darkspawn wanting to obey the Darkloid. If he continues to use both chips, he will most assuredly fail in resisting the darkness. If he discards one, he will still take damage and run a risk of falling into darkness anyway.

The final battle is beginning. You are at the top of the mountain. You are surrounded by Dragon Knights and the Darkloid Dragonborn Spellcaster. He uses a staff and a spellbook. The former is mainly for melee combat; his book is clearly the source of his power. He mainly uses elemental attacks, but obviously prefers fire.

The group (including Kuzuru) has 15 Order Points left. You have one week (until the end of Saturday the 7th EST) to write up to 1500 words. Good luck!

[Summer]

“Sonny...” Summer hissed, his voice a whisper, barely audible over the taunting and jeering of the dragons that once again surrounded the group. He stood resolute next to Ebony, the girl he’d been with this whole time, his body tensed and ready for action. His blood boiled, and every fiber of his being screamed out for him to charge, to sweep in like a squall and lay waste to every single soul in sight. Especially that winged traitor. He would pay for turning on them.

“What?”  Sonny whispered back, as placid as usual in spite of the demon’s transgression.

“Get ready to switch." His muscles ached, his bloodlust sang, but there was a strange clarity hidden beneath his bubbling fury. A calm ray of reason he wasn’t used to, burning away his red haze, and a vague sense of what almost felt like shame. As soon as those first few darklings surged forward, he knew what would happen. All that rage boiling within him would spill over. Just like it had in the past, and just like it would in the future, without fail. But this time, he could change it. He was not going to rage here and now. He couldn’t, so long as Sonny took over.

“Just say the word.”

“You won’t need a word.” Summer growled, an ominous, electrical sensation stirring within the sky above. He straightened up, eyes locked on the arrogant mug of the betrayer. The mountain was a dangerous place to be during a storm, and he was about to find out just why. “Cover your ears, Ebony.”

“Oh, um... w-wh- okay.” With a certain absence to her voice, she almost asked “why” he was requesting that, before immediately realizing it would probably be smart just to listen. The storm spirit raised his hand up just as the disturbance in the air reached peak levels, pointing it towards the object of his ire, and clicked his fingers.

KRA-KOW

A dazzling, twisted streak of white slammed down from the heavens, searing a radiant arc into Summer’s vision, flashing off to the side for a brief moment, before completely engulfing his sense. Even though it was already too late, he instinctively screwed his eyes shut. An almost godly thundercrack rattled the very foundation of the mountain, echoing and rolling across the hellscape, and quickly fading away to nothing. Though he couldn’t hear due to the ringing in his ears, nor see with the white afterimage still haunting his eyes, he could still feel as his body tore itself apart, and slowly rebuilt in his mirror image.

The sun spirit opened his eyes, the lightning’s blinding radiance already clearing away, just in time to witness as a blast of fire burned its way across the clearing and took out one of the darklings. Dazed by the unexpected lightning strike, that was the catalyst for the fight, the slap that returned their senses to them. An inexorable wave of lizards surged forward, and at once, the bullets and magic started to fly.

Sonny’s eyes flicked across the battlefield, searching out the renegade and absently dragging his whip out of his pocket. He quickly found the black form of his opponent, charging forward as unharmed as he had been before. Instead, just a few meters to his left, the Darkloid shakily rose to his feet, his right wing in tatters and spider-web burns covering his entire right half. Solar heat suffused the sun spirit, a red haze fell over his vision, and for the first time since he summoned it, he lashed the whip with the intent to maim.

600 Words.
Used Special Move: Heavenly Bolt (0/1 uses left for this encounter).
Summer got super pissed, tried to hit Renji with the bolt, but wrecked Darkloid instead because HB isn’t accurate in the slightest. Then switched to Sonny, who’s also super pissed.
Due to split fuckery, the active half’s emotions are swayed slightly by those of the inactive half. Sonny’s gonna be moderately angry for a bit because Summer’s mega angry. So just portray him as unusually aggressive and cruel if you need to write him. 

[Ebonywood Hellscythe]

In the aftermath of the lightning, bullets cut through the air towards Kuzuru and the Darkloid as Morene alternated her targets. Most glanced off the Dragonborn's scales, despite his weakened state, while Kuzuru was able to dodge some of his share with his new wings. He seemed to possess some innate proficiency with them - although not enough to prevent the addition of a few minor flesh wounds to his collection. The darklings growled and roared, wasting no time in marching towards the liberators, most of whom had their focus elsewhere.
 
Ebony reached to tug at Sonny’s arm, but he’d already begun moving forward, causing her hand to fall short. He muttered something to himself, but she hadn’t caught it over the sound of gunfire. “Sonny, behind us.” If he heard her, he showed no indication of it, still ploughing forwards with his whip in hand.
 
She turned, summoning her scythe defensively in front of her. One of the monsters lurched forwards, swinging the dull metal down onto the staff. Purple flames erupted from the point of contact while Ebony tried to shove the blade back. Her boots skidded along the floor and sweat dripped from her brow, but with one large heave, the darkling fell backwards, landing on the floor with a loud smack. She breathed out, relieved of the pressure temporarily and seizing every moment of respite she had available.

It didn't last.

Two more darklings replaced the first, both thrusting or swinging the sharp metal towards Ebony's chest. She yelped, trying to step away, only to find her foot was stuck. The first of the monsters had crawled forward, clawing into her thick boot and grasping it tightly. With the number of firm straps, Ebony had no hope at sliding her foot out - although, even if she did, the revelation came too late. Her body had already begun to tip backwards, leaning as far as it could from the metal prior to the realisation her leg wouldn't step with it. As expected, she fell, landing flat on her back painfully. Rocks on the ground dug in through her cloak. Even if she had the state of mind to scramble away, with one darkling still clasping her boot she wouldn't have gotten far - or anywhere at all.

Amusingly, for any neutral viewer, one of the standing darklings tripped over the one on the ground, being pushed forwards by their brethren behind them. Much less amusingly, it fell on Ebony. She coughed, gasping for air through the crushing sensation against her chest, and raised her arms to try and push the monster away. The ebony staff of her scythe wedged itself into the darkling's throat as she lifted it with all her might. Instead of recoiling or moving away, it instead pushed down, snapping its jaws and showcasing its array of sharp teeth. Spittle dripped from its maw while it choked itself.

Ebony shook her head in disgust, trying to remove the specs of saliva and redoubling her efforts to dislodge the foe. She flailed her legs, and although she couldn't see it, she felt her feet kick something - later hearing a muffled grunt of pain.

Metal glinted out the corner of her eye, reflecting the red-hot lava despite having rusty and murky patches along its length. It glided down, arcing through the air in the direction of her head. She yelped, reflexively twisting her scythe to block it. In the process, the darkling's still growling head rolled to the side as well. The forceful blow hammered into its upper neck. With the staff pushing from the other side, it cut three-quarters of the way through as one darkling inadvertently killed his ally.

Black blood spilt out of the wound, soaking into Ebony's clothing and forming dark clumps. She screamed, rolling, kicking, and pushing her way out from under the corpse, grabbing the carcass with her magic now that there was no lifeforce to stop her.

She flung it in front of her; it crashed into the swarm, causing a near domino effect as the eager, yet compact, mass tripped over their comrades - falling forwards, backwards, and sideways.

Panting, she tried to make her way onto her feet, only to spot two more moving in from her right, and the one that tried to attack her before closing in on her left. Swinging as hard as she could, she hooked the blade of her scythe behind the duo on her right, taking out their legs from behind with the sharp metal. It dug in, purple flames shrouding the impact areas. Both fell backwards, toppling to the rocky ground. 

Bang! 

She couldn't see where it originated, but a spray of bullets found their way towards her other immediate aggressor, giving her time to get to her feet. Sadly, the other darklings all had the same opportunity.

Ebony reached forwards, using her magically enhanced strength and longer range to her advantage. While frantic, the hit connected soundly, driving its way through the darkling's neck and spraying black blood towards its friend.

Yanking her scythe back, Ebony stepped away as more darklings came from her left - behind her group of allies. Over the growls, roars, and clanking of the darkling's movement, she heard more grunts, gunfire, and clashes of metal from the other fights, but was spared no time to look.

Adrenaline pumped through her blood, stimulating every inch of her body as she did all that she could to survive. She longed for home, but in situations like these, there was no time to consider her future plans or aims. Only the present. And right now, that meant staying alive.

If she did have the time to think about her actions, Ebony would note how little remorse she displayed towards the monsters. In her first encounter, she'd just tried to push them away, keep herself safe. But over time she'd learned there was no reasoning with them, they'd just keep coming back, thirsty for blood. The others hadn't hesitated, and she'd adopted their attitude in part, but amidst all the blood and pain one key question lingered in the back of her mind. Am I doing the right thing?  Summer, Sonny, and Morene clearly thought they were, but nothing that would have done little to reassure her.

Luckily for Ebony, however, she wasn't thinking about that right now. She wasn't really thinking about anything. Just desperate instincts assisting her attempts to survive.

Her magic boiled inside her blood, building up pressure and looking for all the outlets it could find. With its influence, they came readily as Ebony chanted frantically, using the slight respite that came from the bullets dispatching of (or at least distracting) those closer to her. She thought she might have heard someone call out, but she didn't have time to register it.

A purple orb of mana shot into the main horde, exploding outwards and coating the monsters in corrosive wisps of magic. Some fell but most continued closing in. Ebony heard a grunt and clash from behind her and the fire support assisted her quickly stopped, before continuing elsewhere.

With her limited ability to fire magic quickly, it didn't take long for the large remainder of the force to close in around her. A few moved to flank Ebony while others mobbed forwards, hoisting their weapons into the air as a show of force.

Ebony swayed side to side gently, as if being pushed by a faint breeze. Her muscles burned from fatigue, her lungs heaved, trying to help get more oxygen into her lungs. Little besides the sound of her own heartbeat reached her ears as she leant forwards on her scythe. She had the time to cast maybe one or two more spells, but regardless of the power she put into them, more darklings always filled the gaps. There didn't even look like that many at the start, no more than the courtyard before. The difference here, however, was that she had to take on the majority of them alone. And that was not something she was physically or mentally equipped to deal with.

She tried to call for help, but her voice locked in her throat through a mixture of fear and her need to breathe. Shuddering, her fingers strayed to the buckle on her neck. If there was ever a time to remove that, it was now. She fumbled with the metal, removing the choker from her neck just as the first darkling clumsily thrust his blade towards her, missing only due to one of his allies attempting the same. Such numbers did pose some disadvantages.

Almost a full second passed as the monsters completed their formation around her. Blood dripped out Ebony's mouth and nose; she coughed through it, creating little red bubbles. Rocks, dust, and lava rose into the air around her while her body locked up. 

Ebony opened her mouth, letting out one last silent scream, as the magic rocketed out of her palms.

1500 words (MS Word)

Morene shoots at Kuzu/the Darkloid. Sonny heads off towards them. Most of the party probably head off to deal with the Darkloid/Kuzu.
Eb gets mobbed.
Claptrap or Morene or someone with guns helps her out a bit from a distance.
Eb still gets mobbed.
Whoever was helping her out has to do other stuff (they got attacked/have to help someone else?)
Ebony uses T1 Super Attack, Wild Magic Surge, while being mobbed.

[Summer]

A streak of red exploded from a dragonling’s eye as a the leather whip, guided by the sun spirit’s hand, tore through it. A bellowing cry exploded out from the beast and, infuriated, it thrust its sword directly towards Sonny’s chest. With a quick half-turn, the youkai shifted away just enough for his aura to take over and push it entirely away. Another roar rose up from behind him as the monster’s sword found purchase in its ally. Sonny’s head swivelled to the side, casting a quick glance towards the impaled darkling, its weapon-wielding hand raised to the side.

The sun spirit dropped, almost throwing himself to the ground as the second dragon’s greatsword began to race right for his neck. Wind ruffled his hair, disturbed by the heavy sword cleaving through the space he’d just been with a powerful whoosh. Not a moment later, a red blur passed through his vision as the first darkling’s head plummeted to the ground, which was soon followed by a heavy thud as its body collapsed. Sonny straightened back up, eyes quickly flicking across the battlefield as he took a step back from the wounded second darkling.

Bright orange flashed in the spirit’s peripheral’s and with a quick spin on his heel, he turned to face it. Too late, it turned out, as a brilliant burst of flames slammed against his face. Sonny choked, the fire eating the oxygen from around him, and he stumbled to the side, patting out the fire with hand and stump alike. His vision quickly cleared up, just in time to marvel as the darkling’s steel blade smacked his chest. The spirit quickly caught his footing, his ribs stinging but mostly unharmed, and threw a quick, disappointed glance towards his opponent, before shifting his attention back to the fire-slinger.

The Darkloid’s book sprang open, hovering just over its hand, orange magics coalescing just above it. With a flourish, radiant flames erupted to life over the book, and were swiftly launched downrange. Sonny stepped forward, sweeping his injured arm out towards the blast. The magic flame washed over his stump, fragmenting and dispersing, leaving nothing but little embers gnawing on his coat sleeve. Steeling himself, he pressed on relentlessly, eyes fixed on the one-winged dragon. His second enemy’s sword bounced painlessly off his back.

His opponent frowned, taking a cautionary step back as he carefully eyed the youkai. Another sword strike tapped against his back, sending a small sliver of cutting pain coursing through him. The Darkloid shifted his book, pointing it to face the sun spirit, channelling his arcane energies. Sonny dropped down and back, throwing himself into the sword-wielding assailants knees just as he went in for the third strike. The Darkling flipped over the spirit’s back, tumbling forward and right into the oncoming attack. A massive conflagration burst forth from the book, racing forward and slamming into the stumbling dragonling. Magical flames washed over and past the lizard, leaving Sonny safe in its shadow.

“Switch.” Sonny ordered, his words almost drowned out by the roar of the fire. His body immediately began to tear apart, his flow of magic shifting from destruction to creation. The hellish inferno cut off just as the transformation was completed. Summer sprang to his feet and rushed forward, straight for the charred, still-standing darkling corpse. With one swift and powerful motion, he hoisted the stiff body up off the ground and hurled it at the Darkloid.

The magician eyes widened as it was suddenly facing down a charred missile, and it frantically whipped its staff around. Its weapon met the flying corpse of its well-done ally with a meaty thwack and a massive cloud of soot, throwing it off to the side. The spellcaster suddenly erupted into a fit of terrible coughing as he was assaulted by the ashes. Summer kicked forward and charged down the hacking dragon, hefting his whip in his good hand. The leather thong lashed out and wrapped around the Darkloid’s left leg, and with a solid yank, the storm spirit swept him off his feet.

With a powerful flap of his good wing, the lizardman caught himself before tumbling completely over, instead falling to his knees. With wasting a moment, Summer sprang forward and unleashed a devastating flying knee at his blinded, coughing foe. Bone crunched beneath his blow, and the Darkloid was thrown backwards, once again forced to catch himself with his only wing. The monster stormed forward, electricity crackling to life in his body, and he raised his right hand up across his chest.

CRACK

Summer’s arm whipped out in perfect form, cutting through the air with a brilliant, electrical streak. The back of the spirit’s hand slammed against the Dragonborn’s face with all the force of lightning. Hand and skull alike shattered beneath the strength of his flawlessly executed, storm-powered pimp slap. The Darkloid was thrown clear to the side, rolling and tumbling across the stony ground, before grinding to a halt a good few meters away. Immediately, dragonlings swooped in, putting themselves between their master and the one who had dared to attack him.

“Switch.” Summer said calmly, shaking out his throbbing right hand. His body reconfigured, and without missing a beat, Sonny fished out his last medigel and carefully jammed it into his hand.

“You need to take better care of yourself...” he mumbled, before facing down the wall of darklings. 

900 Words (1500 total)
Sonny used clever dodging to make people kill each other.
Switched to Summer
Pimp slapped Darkloid with Lightning Strike
Switched to Sonny
Used 1 Medigel. Current HP: 13

[Professor Sunshine]

"Hah, you really think a crowd is going to scare me? I may have not been able to hurt you much earlier, but these mooks should be easy to kill!" After saying those words, Syn began to run into the horde of Darkspawn without a care in the world, he quickly began the final fight for himself by launching a Negative Finger Beam at point blank range at the face of one of them, causing the Dragon Knight to die gruesomely as Syn continued to throw punches into the horde. As bodies of Darkspawn continued to fall onto the floor and turned into dark energy, Syn smiled as he was feeling a genuine bliss from killing the Darkspawn.

Eventually however, with the Darkspawn numbers not looking like they were diminishing, Syn got bored of killing them, and as he tried to figure out what to do now, he thought on where these Dragon Knights were coming from, and why they were following the Darkloid without question. Before Syn could continue to think though, he saw Summer slashing at the Darkloid, and after a few seconds Syn decided to join in as well. Raising his anger to it's peak like before, Syn's body once again changed into the form he had took earlier, and as soon as he could once again feel the modest boost in power, he rushed at the Darkloid.

As Syn began to exchange blows with the Darkling, he began by trying to trip the Spellcaster, only for him to jump over his leg and prepare some sort of magical fireball. The Darkloid then launched the fireball from the air at Syn, but at that moment Syn Shenron held his breath in, before blowing it out and launching the fireball back at the Darkloid without worry. As the fireball collided with the Darkloid, it seemed to burn his staff a bit, but the Darkloid seemed to be unfazed from being hit by the fireball, and quickly launched three more fireballs in the direction of Syn.

While Syn was able to dodge one of the fireballs, the other two fireballs had managed to collide with Syn, and as they launched him back, he managed to collide with Sonny before falling to the ground, burnt by the flames and in pain from the collision. As Syn got back up from the collision, he was furious from the pain, and as he rushed back at the Darkloid, he said "You know, your reminding me of two certain fairies that had managed to humiliate me in battle a while ago, but unlike them, your not going to get away with that! Not at all!"

At that moment, Syn began to focus energy into the cracked Dragon Balls on his chest, and as soon as the Negative Karma Ball began to form from in front of his chest, Syn began to maniacally laugh as the ball of dark energies began to grow bigger and bigger. As soon as the Negative Karma Ball grew to 4 feet in size, Syn quickly launched the ball at full force at the Darkloid, moving it around Summer as she moved in the way of the path of the Darkloid to attack him. As soon as 6 seconds have passed, the ball of negative energy eventually reached the Darkloid, and as the spellcaster tried to jump over it, Syn gave a small grin as he sent the Negative Karma Ball upward.

As the Negative Karma Ball collided with the Darkloid, it knocked him upward into the air, and as the Darkloid fell in the direction of the center of one of the lava pits, Syn quickly fired two Negative Finger Beams at the Darkloid just to be sure he was done. However, even after the Negative Finger Beams have hit the Darkloid as he was falling, he seemed to still be alive, and as was about to land into the lava, he quickly created a pillar of earth from the pit, saving the Darkloid from being burned in lava. As Syn observed the Darkloid, he saw that while the Negative Finger Beams seemed to do barely any damage to the Spellcaster, the Negative Karma Ball at least looked like it had managed to harm his legs fiercely, as small cuts from the blast were bleeding all over them.

"Grr... I don't know how you survived that attack, but I have one last trump card to throw at you, and if this doesn't kill you, then I will try it again and again, until I am sure that you die." While the Negative Karma Ball had drained him of his energy, he stil felt like he could still fight, and as he prepared to attack, he tried drawing in energy from around himself, and as he leaned forward and put his arms in front of his head, Syn began to stomp the floor a bit before rushing at full speed at the Darkloid, and as he got closer to the spellcaster he began to pour his own energy into the attack as well, to give it one last boost before it collided with the Darkloid.

As Syn finally collided with the Darkloid at full power, he could feel a few bones break as the attack hit the Darkloid's ribs without any resistance from the Darkloid, and as Syn got back up from the impact he caused, he felt absolutely wasted since he had used all of his energy. As he turned around and walked back from the Darkloid, not caring whether he was alive or not, he said to his allies "I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to fight, but that technique I used on the guy, well I think I will call it the Rushing Shenron Bash.
Remember the name of that technique if any of you ever try to stand against me. Now, if you need me, I'm tagging out for now." As Syn finished saying those words, he turned back to his regular form, and stood down on one knee, trying to catch his breath.

1028 Words.
Syn used Negative Finger Beam on one of the Darkspawn.
Syn used Mystic Breath on the Darkloid, blowing back one of the fireballs the Darkloid launched.
Syn turned into Incomplete Omega Shenron and used his Special Move, Negative Karma Ball on the Darkloid.
Syn launched two Negative Finger Beams at the Darkloid.
Syn used a T1 Super Move, Rushing Shenron Bash, on the Darkloid.
At this point, Syn is wasted energy-wise, so while he is still alive he will barely be able to attack.

[Kuzuru]

With a feral howl Kuzuru launched himself upwards. He spiraled ever higher, stretching out his newfound set of wings. Then with a thunderous snap of his wings he leveled out and hovered several meters above the battlefield. He scanned the calamity that was unfurling before him and he was overjoyed. That heady scent of bloodshed drifted upwards, filling his nostrils and intoxicating his brain. He smiled.

He winced.

Hundreds of thousands pain receptors flared to life, a million beacons of fiery sin boring into his flesh. Burning tendrils of violet scratched at the whites of his eyes. Bullet holes, lacerations, and all manner of bruises ached. A constant ringing, underpinned by a tempest of vindictive whispers. He exhaled and could taste the muddy copper on his tongue. This was agony.

But this kind of agony was its own reward. For the first time in a very long time he felt unrestrained. This body was not Renji Kiyomasa’s, but rather his own creation. Warts and all this was his unfettered countenance, and he would be lying if he did not feel more than an ounce of unsightly pride at the abominable force of nature he had become. He was a kid in a toy store given free reign to do as he pleased. He laid into his guitar for the final time, sending a discordant screech across the battlefield. The waves of sound washed overhead, too diluted to have any significant effect. Once the guitar’s wails had evaporated he threw the instrument aside and let it plummet to the ground. He’d have to come back for it, but in that moment all that mattered was the party going on below.

With another howl he plummeted downwards. He crashed against the first warm body he could find and that body happened to be Miranda’s. She grunted against the impact, using her claws to catch the series of blades that had sprung from his forearms. His feet touched the ground and he drove into her, sliding her across the room.

“You bastard,” she snarled.

Kuzuru frowned and responded, “sorry Frost, not like I had much of a choice.”

He tilted his head upwards, revealing the pulsing purple knot in his throat. Her eyes narrowed on the familiar shape of a darkchip.

“You could have walked away,” she said, trying to leverage something, anything against his assault.

“You know the kind of thing I am,” he said, “I’ve told you before, I’m a slave to my impulses, and he played me good baby, real fukken’ good.”

“Fuck you.”

Kuzuru chuckled, “let’s just enjoy ourselves, after all we’re primes, death doesn’t mean shit.”

Before Miranda could respond a shotgun spattering of metal slammed into Kuzuru’s back. He lost his footing and Miranda took the opportunity to disengage. The demon took another blast before whirling around to face his new attacker. Claptrap, upon being noticed, yelped something and tried to flee. The demon’s wings reeled back and snapped forward like a pair of feathery whips. Violet feathers, sharp as razors, cut through the air with a lethal whistle. One of the ornithological projectiles pierced the robot’s side, but the rest missed their target. Kuzuru reared back for another volley, but was interrupted by a set of claws clamping onto his shoulders. He screamed and threw an elbow backwards, catching Miranda in the gut and breaking her hold.

“Fuck off nerd,” Kuzuru shouted and launched back into the air.

Once more he was above the battlefield and surveyed the land laid before him. The Darkloid was busy avoided the assault of Syn and Summer. His eyes narrowed to a blob of darkness swallowing the meek girl. As he was about to avert his attention to someone more interesting multi-colored explosion tore through the inky horde. Ebony sat at the center of this exquisite carnage. Kuzuru licked his lips. His right arm grew heavy and hung low, gently tugging him closer to the ground. A thick blade bloomed along his forearm, turning the limb into an axe. For a few moments he watched as the girl’s destructive payload grinded to a halt and she was left half-conscious on the ground.

The demon touched down a few feet in front of her. Ebony’s eyes wen wide and she tried to scramble away. Kuzuru stomped forward, his wings drawn outwards to cover her in an imposing shadow. He tried to smile, but found that the muscles in his face wouldn’t listen and were locked into a scowl. He stepped closer and raised his weapon, positioning the edge between her eyes.

“Well,” he said, pausing for a moment to collect himself, “you’ve had a good--- GAHK!”

His declaration was cut short as a familiar theme song hummed through the air followed by a thunderous crack. Sonny’s bullwhip had coiled itself around the demon’s throat.The spirit wrenched on the leather whip with all of his might and the sudden shift in weight pulled Kuzuru off balance. He stumbled backwards, choking and clutching at the improvised garotte. His vision went white and his ears threatened to pop. With the last scrap of air in his lungs he screamed and grabbed the body of the whip and pulled. There were a few seconds of hesitation, but his desperate strength pulled through and the bullwhip slipped through Sonny’s fingers.

Kuzuru ripped the snake from his throat and tossed the whip aside. He fell to his knees, clutching at his throat and gasping for air. The guillotine attached to his arm melted back into his flesh. This moment of respite was short lived as a familiar sensation crawled across his skin. It was a split-second moment of anticipation, the kind of sixth sense that could only be acquired through several lifetimes worth of conflict. Morene had moved to strike him down and her poleaxe was mere moments from hacking into his back. Instinctually his body reacted before his brain could completely process what was happening. Four curved blades erupted from the side of his ribcage and arc up and over his back. Morene’s axe slammed against these blades, cracking two of them, and was deflected to the side. In response Kuzuru’s violent wings snapped outwards blanketed an area around him in razor-sharp plumage.

With a bit of fresh breathing room Kuzuru stood and faced the two interlopers. His eyes shifted between Sonny and Morene. He could still hear the girl behind him trying her best to scoot away. The blades around his back receded and reappeared on his forearms, three on the left and on on the right.

“Why do you protect her?” Kuzuru asked.

“Why would you butcher someone who is clearly defenseless?” Sonny responded.

“Defenseless?” Kuzuru scoffed, “she might have burnt herself out, but she’s far from defenseless, besides she chose to come here, I’ve no sympathy for someone who blows their load early and begs for a timeout later, I also have no sympathy for candyhearts who feel the need to sacrifice their own potential to protect those that can’t protect themselves, you’d all be much better opponents if she was dead.”

Before they could continue the Darkloid floated a few feet overhead and spoke, “you’re doing well my champion, finish the job and you’ll be rewarded with more power than you could ever imagine.”

Kuzuru laughed and turned his head upwards.

“That’s a bold claim there, chief,” he said, “you’ve no idea just how much power I can imagine, but, at any rate, you’ve got me all kinds of fucked up if you think I’m just here for the power.”

“Oh?”

Kuzuru pointed a finger at the Darkloid, “I want your heart motherfucker, I wanna rip that beating lump out of your chest and stuff it down my throat, and there ain’t no kind of deal you can give me that’ll be sweater than that cherry.”

What was once an accusatory finger turned into an open palm. The tip of a spear peeked through his flesh and began to grow. This twisted spear of metal rocketed towards the Darkloid at an alarming pace. Without waiting to see the attack connect Kuzuru turned his attention to the other liberators. He turned slightly and pointed his free hand at Ebony. A second spear made its appearance and was leveled towards the girl’s chest.

“Come on!” Kuzuru shouted, “if we’re gonna play, let’s make it fukken interesting baby!”

[spoiler] Kuzuru used Battle Sense which is his special move and now has 0/1 uses left for this encounter.

Kuzuru spends 2 OP to fire his T2 Super Move “Demon Spear” at the Darkloid
Kuzuru spends another 2 Op to fire another “Demon Spear” at Ebony

Kuzuru is in FFA mode and will pretty much attack anyone/anything that he deems a worthy opponent.[/spoiler]

[Miranda Frost]

Miranda was mentally exhausted from this whole ordeal. Her mind knew damn well from the beginning that power itself was something Kuzu would gun for the majority of the time. What exactly made this little venture any different? Why did Miranda have any hopes of him turning down this Dragonling freak? Miranda gritted her teeth as her eye's gaze skittered about the rubble and ash. Renji was quick to discard the heavy article of clothing as the battle started.  As the rest of the party worked on finishing the reinforcements the lizard bastard called upon. As a result, Miranda was largely ignored, with Renji's attention falling upon someone else. Frost's hands dove into the rubble, turning over pieces of broken wall, and moving pieces of ruined furnature. Eventually she'd find it and in remarkable condition.

 The fabric itself held a few tears here and there, but the coat itself was still fully usable. Smirking to herself, the azure light of her eyes narrowed upon the darkloid. That thing had lead the assault on the keep and was the leader of the hordes of scum that seemed to continuously come at them. Perhaps if it was taken out, the power of the chips would be negated if not lessened. This venture would be the best choice to look into for her. She didn't really want to fight Kuzu-boy after all, even with all the trouble he had put her through. Miranda would hoist the coat upon her shoulder before making her way back to the stage of battle.

 Slowly she'd slip her hands through the coat's sleeves, pulling its weight evenly over her body. She'd almost had gotten used to not wearing the damn thing. The sheer weight of it severely impacted her speed. Her steps had become heavy, with the heel of her boot cracking the stone flooring with every step. She watched as Kuzu renewed his aggression, attacking the scythe wielding girl and his handsome protector of sorts. Her eye would transition from blue to a burning crimson. Red flames seemed to pulse from her body, colescing above her head in the form of a burning halo. From her back the red flames jetted out before taking the shape of six wings with a total wingspan of thirteen feet.

 "Kuzu... You arn't completely wrong.", She'd call out to him, forcing him to turn to her. "I guess we should have a little fun, but there in lies the problem....". She'd thrust out her arm, her bladed claw outstretched towards the Darkloid. "This asshole has made a fool of you. Why don't you help me out here and bring him down to Earth for me so I can rip him apart. Do that for me and I'll give you a treat only you here would appreciate fully."

"Well, when you put it like that darling, I guess I don't have much of choice, now do I?", Kuzu-boy would reply, his hungry smile widening at the thought.

 Quickly his wings stretched outward and flapped hard against the ground, propelling the demon into the air. 

 "Kuzuru, what are you--", he'd begin, the staff in his clutches moving to protect him from the onslaught that was coming.
 
 Kuzu would swipe an arm downard, his blades of course blocked by the spellcaster's staff but the move itself was enough to break the dragon scum's concentration, forcing it to the ground.
 
 Miranda was already running at this point, her crimson eye leering at the recovering asshole, its staff glowing in yellow light, a hastily built dome covering him. Miranda cried out, thrusting her claw against the force field, which did little to slow the advance of her hand as it grabbed a hold upon the Darkloid's staff.

 "Y-you worm", the darkloid spat out, attempting to yank his staff free of miranda's grip. Her claw merely tightened its hold upon the staff, her claws digging into the weapon's structure. 

 "That makes you worm food then", she'd retort, her other fist storming in, colliding with its scaly face like an unstoppable train. Miranda watched as its body was ripped away from the staff, its body sent head over heels backwards, skittering accross the rubble infested stone flooring.

 "Get up. Give me a reason to hammer you back down."

[Morene Fellon]

The huntress rolled her eyes at Kuzuru's quite frankly hurtful attempt to get under her comrade's skin. A slight sigh came out of Morene's mouth, seeing as she was unfortunately unable to slap the demon boy in the head once more like she did last time. As the demon launched himself upwards towards the Darkloid, the woman raised an eyebrow at his strange decision to turn his only allies against him. Of course, the strategy seemed too easy to counter, Morene almost perfectly content with sitting back for a moment and letting him do all the work.

On the other hand, Morene knew it was never a matter of simplicity when it came to Kuzuru, not even from the few moments she's seen him in action. Turns out, she was right. 

Morene's heart sank once more as she watched the demon's hand shoot another beam of steel aimed directly at Ebonywood Hellscythe. 

The woman did not have time to think. She did not do any such thing, for her arm already shot outwards to grapple forwards, her thruster already activated. It took no more than a mere second for Morene to have grasped onto the scythe-wielding girl in immediate danger, and she was the woman's only focus at the moment. Experiencing a rather severe case of tunnel vision, Morene dived forward to swoop the girl from her feet, her armor skidding across the floor as she did so. A slight sense of relief washed over the woman's conscious like a drug, but that could only briefly distract from the now searing pain in her side. 

Blood spat onto Morene's visor and it's user interface. A wince contorts her expression into one of livid pain being held back by nothing more than concern. Opening her helmet, Morene soon realized she had a lot to be concerned about. 

Looking down at Ebony below her, Morene watched as she held the same emotion of discomfort. It didn't take long for Morene realize how bad her own wounds are, seeing as indeed, she had an entire spike rammed through her stomach. The huntress was surprised however, seeing as Ebony only wound up with a stab wound only roughly four to six inches deep. More importantly however, was the fact that the scythe-wielder's entire body was encased in what seemed to be some sort of... bubble?

Still, she was in pain.

Seeing her friend's blood trickle was enough to anger Morene into grasping at the shaft of the spear, slowly pushing herself up. 

Morene's sight blurred as she heard Ebony whimper over the wound. The woman wished so badly to ease the object out instead of doing this, but Morene had to uphold her promise. She had to.

"My dear," Morene struggled, "please hold still."

Looking up, the huntress made sure she was in the clear to rip the spear from Ebony's side. 

Morene couldn't handle the sounds of pain that followed.

"A-..." Ebony squeaked out, squirming violently.

Too distracted, Morene forgot how physically awful the wound felt on her end, seeing as it must have penetrated some sort of vital organ or two. She couldn't tell. Nor could she have cared. Before Morene had the chance to tend to her ally's bleeding injury, she realized why either of the Liberators weren't dead at the moment. Not too far off, Sonny had had his arm outstretched towards their general direction, breathing as heavy as a man his size could. 

Before she could mentally express her gratitude for defending them, Morene was promptly interrupted by said sharp object.

As in, it was ripped out of her body in a manner of half a second. A sharp gasp escaped the woman's lips, and Morene fell to her knee grasping at the hole in her stomach. 


Her entire body shivered. The shaking stopped soon however, looking at Ebony barely attempting to rise to her feet. Morene didn't hesitate a moment after, for she realized her purpose was to protect.

She would satisfy that purpose.

She had to. 


Wrapping her armored gauntlet around the girl's shoulder, Morene lifted Ebony to her feet. The huntress knew Sonny would come to their side, but Morene did not want to count on it in account of Ebony's life. With that, Morene reached to her back, struggling as she did, to once more pull out her rifle. 

It took Morene no time at all to start aiming, and even less to start walking Ebony and herself to safety. The problem lied in the former action, however.

Finally looking at the demon responsible for this with a full intent on shooting, the huntress saw as his previous comrade, Miranda Frost herself, assisted him in bashing into the Darkloid's physical form.

Gritting her teeth, Morene barely managed to click at the button to lock her helmet into place. The woman wanted so badly to pull the trigger as she aimed at Kuzuru, but Ebony was still in pain. Lowering her weapon, Morene turned to the blonde haired man, still catching his breath from that trick he pulled only moments ago. 

"SONNY! Assist me with these wounds, I beg!" Morene called out, sounding a bit more assertive than she intended. Shaking her head slightly, Morene limped over to the man as she realized this was the perfect time to be assertive. 

Barely being able to walk over to the boy, Sonny need not move. The huntress remembered why she was here well enough, now shooting at the Darkloid above with a single free hand, nevermind Ebony in the other. 

Only halfway there, Morene thought, sucking air through her teeth as her vision began to blur.

The woman's ears began to ring, but she hoped Ebony could hear her next words very well.


"I am a woman of my word," the huntress murmured, "I swear upon it."

970 words.

Morene attempts to tank Kuzuru's super move for Ebony, but ultimately only slightly dampens the effect in comparison to Sonny's tier 1 defensive, and in turn gores Morene straight through her stomach. 
Ebony now has a similar wound in her gut, but not nearly as bad or as deep as Morene's. 
Putting her murderous intent for Kuzuru aside, Morene then assists him and Miranda in pummeling the Darkloid by taking potshots at it from afar.
Morene, with Ebony in her arm, escorts her to Sonny for possible treatment and to get her out of harm's way for now.

[Claptrap]

This was it, the last boss fight. While not exactly wanting to fight Kuzuru, Claptrap wasn't really fazed by him taking the Darkchip. It wasn't the first time his boss had turned on him. The robot watched as the demon dropped from the sky like a giant bird of prey and landed on Miranda before firing a round from his shotgun to help her out. Kuzuru's eyes turned to Claptrap, madness burning bright in them, and a volley of razor feathers soared towards him. 

Not for the first time, Claptrap was grateful for his small size, as only one feather hit home. Claptrap groaned as he pulled the knife-like feather from his side, and inspected it. He attempted to mimic the feather, only for his vision to start flashing red. "Error." The Hyperion voice said calmly, despite the alerts on his HUD. "This item is a Darkchip product. Replication is impossible without a license to create Nebula owned products. Please contact Nebula's offices for more information." 

Claptrap hmm'd before dropping the feather and turning back to the fight. Kuzuru had just fired a pair of demon spears and Miranda had picked the Darkloid up and sent him tumbling towards Claptrap. His gun not at the ready, Claptrap panicked and wound his arm back before landing a surprisingly hefty punch to the darkloid. The sorcerer lay winded on the ground as Claptrap grabbed and cocked his shotgun and aimed it at the darkloid. The darkloid raised a hasty shield which did about as much as it did against Miranda, only slightly slowing the pellets before they impacted his scales, a crunching sound coming from his natural armour as it cracked under the Hyperion firepower. 

Claptrap prepared to fire another shot before Kuzuru came rocketing towards both the darkloid and the robot, nearly catching Claptrap in his frenzy. The whole group had already made their way over to the darkloid as he took to the air for a moment before being dragged back down by Kuzuru. The group began savagely laying into the darkloid, the ashen blades being slightly more careful not to hit Kuzuru than the others. 

Desperate to get some breathing room, the sorcerer created a ring of fire which exploded out from around his body. "Fools!" The darkloid cried, his voice cracking slightly. "You had your chance to join willingly! Now Nebula will take you all!" Before anyone could respond, Kuzuru threw himself at the nearest person in his frenzy. Deciding that he would take the role of wise-cracker while his boss was 'occupied', Claptrap did his best eye roll. "Pal, your army was taken out by seven people. I'd be surprised if Nebula could take a bandit midget." 

The darkloid's eyes darted to the side briefly, before he took off in the direction of his staff. Claptrap froze briefly, expecting the darkloid to keep monologuing enough for Kuzuru to come back to his senses for a moment, before panicking about what to do. Kuzuru had managed to pull himself from the melee, but Claptrap was already replaying the footage of Kuzuru's demon spear. The robot extended his arm towards the fleeing sorcerer, a spear tip pointing from his hand. "I guess you could say he's... Uh... Fired? Man, I should leave this to Kuzuru." Claptrap said as he fired, the spear speeding towards the sorcerer.

568 words

2 OP from mimicking demon spear

[Nebula]

The Ashen Steppes Darkloid was alone and cornered. He was backed up towards the cliff at the top of this mountain. Behind him was his own world, gifted from Nebula himself. The dark power he had been given was spewing, crackling from the wounds he had sustained. His army was defeated. Despite all of the darkchips and all of the corruption he had willingly given himself into, he was unable to defeat this group of would-be liberators. He had given them power and opportunity, and none of it was worth it. He was defeated at every end. 

In front of him was his former targets. They all should have taken his offers. They could have been powerful and great. They could have had a hand in real change in the Omniverse. Claptrap. Syn Shenron. Miranda Frost. Summer Murdoch. Behind Summer was Ebony Hellscythe, kneeling next to an injured Morene Fellon. And behind all of them was Kuzuru, violent wings twitching around him. "Kuzuru!" The Darkloid shouted. He was begging almost. "Please. If I fall here, this entire realm will be destroyed! And you along with it!"

Everyone's eyes shifted from the Dragonborn, back to Kuzuru. The Dark Angel seemed to be dealing with his own problems. While before it was mildly evident that the Darkchip caused some pain, now it was full-blown crackling lightning around him as his body struggled to handle the overload. "That sounds like a whole lot of 'not my problem!'" he growled past the group, at the Darkloid. He flapped those over-sized wings backwards to swiftly remove himself from the confrontation.

He landed on the top of a large rock, within sight of the Darkloid and the Liberators, but far enough way to be discluded from the fight. He fell down onto his knees. The power was too much. He was getting dizzy. His vision was blurry. The darkchips, even the ones he had used already or discarded, had tainted his blood enough to cause his whole body to feel like it was spinning, even when he just sat there. His wings stretched out above him, tense and twitching. His muscled bulged as it struggled to contain his power.

The reality began to set in for Kuzuru, the man inside the body of Renji Kiyomasa. These Darkchips were not just giving him power. They were siphoning it. Giving it to someone else. Not the Darkloid, but someone else entirely, who was using both him and the Darkloid for puppets. The time has now come to bargain, came a voice flooding into Kuzuru's swirling mind. You can keep all of this power. Forever. But there is a trade to be made. You must give into the darkness. You must agree to the corruption. You must become my Darkloid!

Meanwhile, the Dragonborn Darkloid took the opportunity while everyone was watching Kuzuru retreat from the immediate area to jump backwards. By the time they turned back around, he was gone, off the cliff. "What the hell?!" Miranda shouted, "Where did he go?"

"Did he just...?" Claptrap began, letting the question trail off.

No sooner then the thought crossed all of their mind, then a giant claw appeared over the edge of the cliff. It strained to lift up further weight until the Darkloid, now a full-sized Golden-Scaled Corrupted Dragon, lifted itself up and over the edge of the mountain-side. The liberators all ushered their way back to give it room as it swiped at them. No longer was it giving an evil monologue. No longer did any personality seem to linger inside what was once the Darkloid. This creature had given itself up to the Darkchips that it lived off of. It was completely and utterly gone. In front of it stood it's would-be opponents. Five of them stood tall. Summer and Ebony stood in front of a prone Morene. Claptrap and Miranda Frost stood next to each other, with Kuzuru looming in the background. Syn Shenron was near them, but far enough way to be considered on his own.

This was about where the Darkloid would say something, but instead he just howled and erupted flames from his maw.

Kuzuru is in trouble. He is still on the mountain-top but out of the way of the fight. Nebula has gotten all he needs out of Kuzuru at this point, so the Darkchips are officially turning on him. He is now dying. Here's Kuzuru's options:
-He can give into the corruption. He will no longer sustain any penalties to Darkchips (and still gain the benefits), however he will become a Darkloid for Nebula.
-He can turn down the corruption. He will continue to take damage and eventually die and resurrect normally. In this case, Nebula will still gain something from the power he's already siphoned from Kuzuru, but Kuzuru himself will be off the hook.

The Ashen Steppes Darkloid is in his Tier 2 Transformation, Corrupted Dragon. Despite this, he is severely wounded. He is unable to properly fly but he can hover, swipe, bite and blast fire out of his mouth.

-Morene takes 10 points of damage. She is critically wounded and will need some form of healing to be able to move around on her own. Otherwise, she'll need assistance to travel.
-Ebony takes 5 points of damage, as Morene took the bulk of the hit and Summer blocked some of it.
-Syn Shenron, Claptrap and Miranda Frost take 2 point of wear and tear damage.
-Summer takes no damage.

The roleplay limit is 1 post, up to 1500 words. You have until Saturday afternoon/evening EST. Assuming this fight goes well, we will begin culminating the thread after this round. There are 4 Order Points left which can be used by anyone (first come first serve).