The Primordial Weapon

[PepsiWhirda]

Whirda saw the tarrasque well before Blues scrambled around the corner, his armor battered and pouring smoke from half a dozen places. The abomination dwarfed any dragon she had ever seen, both physically and by its sheer calamitous presence. Her blood ran ice cold. Fear coiled coarse and sinewy in the pit of her stomach like serpents. It seemed to conquer her very imagination. Whirda found herself denying the beast's existence even as it rumbled toward them, quite real, the very bedrock of the hills crumbling to afford it passage.

She blinked once, twice, and finally managed to look away. Blues shook her shoulder with his remaining hand, his eyes inscrutable behind the visor, but his lips moving rapidly. Her hearing, focused before on the sound of the earth literally shattering, came back to the foreground next.

"—coming! Snap out of it! We need—"

"What the hell were we thinking..." Whirda breathed, paying the preteen machine no attention.

Bravado, plain and simple. In her short and hectic time in the Omniverse, Whirda had defeated ninjas, goblins and zombies, wolves and githzerai, even the mighty shade Ahn'Thrix. But this thing...

The tarrasque moved at no more than twice the speed of a human walking, seeming ponderous, almost bored. It meant them no ill-intent, Whirda realized. The beast destroyed in a straight line, regardless of obstruction, completely indiscriminate. Somehow that makes it all the more terrifying.

The punch came from below and knocked her on her ass. Now it was she who looked up at Blues, who scowled.

"Sorry," he said, "but I had to do something."

Whirda could only nod, rubbing her sore chin with one hand as she stood. The streets were empty, the drow seeming wisely to have packed up shop.

"Way I see it," Blues continued, "we have about fifteen minutes to plan. We're going to have to get up on its back, right? Maybe go for its eyes?"

A harsh laugh escaped before she could catch it. "Come on, kid. You don't actually intend to fight this thing, do you?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Here's the plan, Blues." Whirda pointed back in the direction of Darkshire. "We run that way, as fast as we can. We thank Omni, or whoever the hell else you're supposed to pray to in this gods-damned backward realm. Preferably we don't look back."

"This is it, isn't it?" Blues said, the gravity of the situation seeming finally to settle into him.

"Evacuate Darkshire into The Tangled Green and destroy the gate," Whirda affirmed. "Destroy all the gates. Seal off the Verse and trap this thing inside."

"There has to be another way," Blues argued. "Some way to slow it down, or—or cripple it!"

"I think we can help with that," said an unfamiliar voice from behind them.

In their distraction, they hadn't even seen the five strangers approach.

[DioBrando]

The sound of galloping hooves echoed throughout the empty road, a torrent of rain fall harboring their arrival as the flitting shadows of 5 horse mounted men charge through what had once been a bustling hub of trade. Though the place appeared to be a ghost town the empty streets and homes a blessing in disguise for the once denizens of this town, they had been the lucky few warned ahead of time what was coming. They who had been allowed to flee their homes rather than wake to find themselves in the gullet of an aberration many times more terrifying they had ever known. These men rode on ahead in spite of this threat however, each of them adorned in strange foreign garb, and not so much as an iota of fear in any of their eyes. The hunting party had all resolved themselves to stand firm in the face of death today.

As the group rode closer to their goal the echoing roar that cascaded throughout the surrounding area grew from a rumble that shook their very bones to become a deafening cacophony that carried with it a tide of dread that shook even the fore runner of the group's very soul. They all knew that those roars were normally a death knell that reminded that even primes like them had to be aware of and that they were currently riding towards a monster that not a single one of them could hope to face alone and survive. Yet the leader of the group was not afraid, for Dio had made his plans and had acquired knowledge and allies he had confidence in. He believed in their talent, and he believed that they would unquestionably succeed here today.


As they rode closer they would hear the growing sounds of battle in the distance, the sounds that had been shrouded within the din of the monster's roar now ringing clearly within all of their ears, and it told them of one simple fact. Someone had beaten them to the chase and was already facing down the monster on their own. Dio swore as he'd give the reins of his horse a crack the harsh whinny of protest his horse let as it would accelerate, Dio leaning down towards his horse as he'd force the groups pace to accelerate to a sprint. They didn't have time to waste anymore, but what some would have seen as the actions of someone rushing to another's aid was actually nothing more than simple avarice for him. He simply didn't want them to steal the kill on the monster before he got a chance to appear the hero and slay the beast himself. It was to be his hunting party, his hands, that destroyed the monster. Not these pretenders to his greatness who dared to stand in the way of his plans.

Thus this harsh pace would continue as they took what would have been an hours long journey and reduced it by half, no path too treacherous, no obstacle that could possibly stand in his way, and behind him he cleared the path for those who would follow. A trail of broken fences, shattered windows, and demolished walls left in his wake. This was Dio acting to his fullest and here he wouldn't spare so much as a second on his path towards conquest, it was why he had decided to lead the pack and choose the direction of their charge and it was through this that he managed to turn what had been plotted as an hours long journey into a mere hour. As they crossed the horizon and finally exited the storm to get a look at the town of Writou itself what he saw was far from what he had expected. What he had thought were the sounds of battle were merely The Tarrasque shambling through an armory, the cannon balls and explosives detonating under the pressure of one of The Tarrasque's feet, but when not wielded by a prime or infused with the energy of omnilium they didn't posses so much as a tenth of the power needed to scratch that terrifying beast's hide.

Dio had expected this monster to be absolutely titanic in size, he had researched the beast extensively within the lower archives and had exact measurements for what it's body was supposed to be, but that had been represented by mere numbers a unit of measurement that he could equate to a large house but he had never seen huge monsters like this in his world. In his world it was always battles between the likes of men and vampires, even the appearance of something as strange and unusual as his stand would be considered a peerless marvel in his home world. This monster went far beyond that, and now Dio had some small inkling of the terror those men felt in their hearts as they went to do battle with The Prime Evil Diablo. However, he was a man unfettered by the laws of normality, he had chosen to risk his own life to obtain one of greater power even if it meant having to devour the lives of others, and he had steeled himself in the face of a devil. Thus his heart did not quaver in the face of this, he knew that he was staring down one of the most terrifying monstrosities ever created within the pits of hell. That the tusks it bore were ripped out of the skull of some greater demon and grafted to it for the sake of spearing through a fortresses walls, that it's blood was that of hell itself, magma taken from the deepest hottest pits of hell in order to power the sin heart in its' core. He knew his enemy, and it did not know him. This knowledge gave Dio the strength to ride forward unafraid.

Charging on he'd come to the town center, yet in that nexus he found that he and his group weren't alone a man seemingly made out of some kind of metal and a dark skinned beauty from who Dio could feel an oppressive aura of evil emanating from were staring down the monster. Thus, Dio would stop his group around the corner, motioning for them to stay quiet while he listened to them. The lady seemed to be arguing with the preteen machine. As they argued he'd hear her mention Omni and then how she didn't know who else she was supposed to pray to here telling him that they were primes, or at the very least the woman was. However as their argument continued it became apparent that they planned to destroy the gates that connected The Pale Moors to the rest of the Omniverse in order to isolate this aberration from the rest of the verses. It was a pragmatic choice, after all to the other universes this place was filled with nothing but monsters. A choice Dio would have even advocated if he hadn't planned on using this place to establish his base of operations. Thus, it was now that he'd move into the town center, dismounting with a confident smirk as he'd say "I believe we can help with that."

Striding forward he'd undo the sling around his shoulder and drop the crate in front of the pair, smirking as he'd withdraw the first of the thermal detonators, turning it so that it glimmered in the light as he spoke. "My name is Dio Brando, leader of the party you see behind me, and these are a little present from Coruscant. They have been anointed holy oil and are the best combination of technology and magic in this or any other verse. The intense heat and holy energy that happens when these go off is enough to, in theory, prevent the regeneration of any wounds we inflict on that bastard tonight. As for crippling it, well. Just leave that to us."

He turned to speak to the group, a somber look in his eyes and a commanding aura wreathing his body in a maleficent and charismatic energy that seemed to emanate from his whole body creating the very image of a resolute general

"Tonight we stare down an aberration far more terrifying than any we have ever faced, however in spite of the terror it inspires all the more obvious is the destruction and evil that it brings in it's wake. Thus, it is with a resolute heart and mind that I give you one final order execute the plan and in doing so, create a world free of the unforgivable abomination that stands before us."!"

He would then turn to face the towering monster and with a moment of focus he brought out his stand The World. Breaking out into a sprint he'd leap up towards a roof top, the ethereal being trailing in his wake as he'd charge towards the beast, intending to draw it's intention and set the location of the fight as close as he could to that limestone quarry, hoping that it would be enough to allow them to take advantage of the aquifer this land sat on and trap the beast in a mire the likes of which had never been seen. Dio's rush continuing as he'd leap from roof top to roof top, occasionally perching on the ruins of some steeple or building in order to correct his course as they beast continued on it's indomitable path. However, the honor of first blood would definitely be his regardless, and thus, propelling himself forward as his stand would throw him forward to be the first to land a blow on this beast. Dio summoning his stand again as he'd propel himself towards the monster like some kind of vampire torpedo, The World appearing once more in the instance of first contact, both fists colliding on the same point with more force than a howitzer, a shock wave exploding off of each punch as a hail of fists unleashed a torrent of blows that rained down against the steel like hide of the monster like a barrage of missiles impacting against it, so fierce was the barrage that time itself shattered around the beast as the first blood was drawn. The Tarrasque would not take this assault idly, the beast turning with surprising speed even as the first torrent of magma erupted from the wound, the fury of hell itself glaring back at Dio as the monster's house sized limb swung with incredible speed towards him.

Even as the monster turned however The World was already in motion, moving out towards the spines that covered the building sized monster's back, his hands full of those special explosives he'd taken from Dio. As the beast's massive claw would lash out with incredible speed, Dio would only be able to dodge narrowly, but even just the shock wave off the beast's attack had been enough to knock him back into a near by wall, but even as incredible agony wracked his body with torturous pangs, Dio's laughter only stopped when he began to cough up blood. The reason for that laughter was apparent, because even as he'd been knocked away his Stand had managed the simple task of smashing those detonators into the thick hide of the beast. This was the real test to see if their engagement would be successful, dozens of explosions ringing out, a cry of agony coming from the beast as the first lasting damage it had ever felt was inflicted, a spray of magma accompanying each explosion sending out thick torrents of molten rock that reduced the surrounding houses to ash. Yet, as the flow continued moments after it became apparent. They had been successful! Through the combination of magic and technology they had found a way to obliterate the beast it's regenerative abilities were one of the chief dangers of even high level primes approaching this aberration. Through this discovery and it's application the road to victory was laid bare, and in the blackened remnants of what was once Dios' heart he felt his morale soar. The confidence that had waned when he had been knocked away so casually returning a thousand fold as he'd cry out.

"Haha, my research was correct! Everyone proceed according to the plan!"

[Proto Man]

In a veritable whirlwind, the entire dynamic had shifted.

Whirda and Proto Man were no longer standing by themselves in the shadow of a colossal force of nature. They were no longer alone against an unstoppable mass of horns, scales, and claws.

Battle had been joined, and from the looks of it, the war had only just begun. With a focused agenda, the leader of the new arrivals had launched himself at the beast, and despite the suicidal implications of such actions, he had succeeded in this headstrong plan. Smoke and molten blood escaped from the wounds the creature now bore on its side, and the man, after climbing up to his feet and wiping the blood from his chin, grinned smugly at the ancient beast.

In the chaos that had been Dio’s initial assault, the rest of the group had been forced apart in a wild attempt to avoid the shockwaves and the force of the explosions that ruptured the creature’s hide. Proto Man found himself half-buried under one of the few remaining structures left in the abandoned village. Somewhere above the mass of wood and dried reeds, Proto Man heard another roar as the ground shook.

“Do you still live?” The rough voice waited for no answer as the material above the android was knocked away in a succession of swift kicks. The figure that owned the voice was a gruff-looking man in very dated armor, as if he’d been pulled out of a picture book from an elementary history class…

It was then that the info blurb appeared on the android’s internal display.

“Wait,” Proto Man muttered as the man bent down and hoisted him up to his feet as if he weighed nothing. “It’s Atelos, isn’t it?”

“And you’re Blues,” the Spartan shot back as he pulled the shield from his back and glanced over his shoulder at the Tarrasque. “Now that we’ve established that, we have bigger issues.” Somewhere in the distance, Proto Man heard a shout and watched as two people attacked the monster with what seemed to be half-frozen jets of water. Another individual appeared to be fiddling with more explosives. In response, the lumbering monster dispelled the pair with a stomp that shook the landscape, fissuring the earth from the point of impact.

“Where is Whirda?” Proto Man asked as he readied the Proto Buster and started at the creature.

Atelos, who remembered the wallop that the child possessed from their run-in with the monsters outside Silent Hill, thought nothing of the fact that a ten-year-old was marching at such a creature. “The infected woman?” The Spartan inquired as he moved to catch up to the preteen robot. “Haven’t seen her since Dio wounded the creature.”

That meant she was somewhere. Perhaps she was lurking in the shadows and biding her time. In their short time together, Proto Man knew that to be the woman’s modus operandi. Her skills were their most refined when she had surprise and the benefit of picking her windows of opportunity.

Unfortunately, Proto Man was nothing like that.

With the barrel of his weapon shuddering as the energy built inside, the Prototype Robot Master strode across the collapsed, smoldering remnants of the village’s main thoroughfare and leveled his gaze with the creature at the other end. Targeting reticles popped up as his system continued its analysis of the Tarrasque—crunching numbers and processing visual information as quickly as it could. Somewhere off to his left, Proto Man heard shouting, but the words were drowned out by all the other noise. Up ahead, the two individuals who used the elements to their favor fell away as a giant limb cleaved through the hardened dirt as if it were sand.

Swinging up his gun arm and supporting it with his other hand, Proto Man grinned beneath the shadow of his visor and fired. Although it lacked the pizzazz of a series of linked explosions, the discharge of energy from the Proto Buster erupted forth like a bolt of lightning, searing through the air before connecting against the creature’s face with a deafening boom and a flash of light that momentarily blinded everyone else.

When the light faded and the ringing in everyone’s ears faded, the unfortunate reality of the situation set in just a little bit more. There was a scar, that’s for sure—a large and blackened one that adorned much of the Tarrasque’s cheek. Other than that?

Nothing.

Now ignoring the warriors beneath it, the monster’s focus was on the child who wouldn’t back down, even as the Tarrasque lowered its head, dropped open its massive jaws, and let out a roar with enough force to uproot and clear anything that even remotely resembled a standing structure. When the creature’s jaw shut and it reared its head back up, it burst forward as if it were spring-loaded. A shadow fell over the android, and a moment later, a palm came crashing down at him.

Never one who backed down, Proto Man threw up his hands and summarily vanished from sight when the Tarrasque’s house-sized hand slammed into the ground. For those individuals close enough to see the impact, there was a slight moment of resistance in that instant before the scaled limb hit dirt, causing the earth itself to buckled under the blast. In that instant, a blurred shadow flickered as a figure darted and skipped up the scaled appendage.

With a growl, the Spartan Atelos leapt into the air—shield and spear at the ready—and landed on the creature’s hand. Although his strength was unmatched, the thrust intended to bury the bladed end of the polearm into the Tarrasque’s hand resulted in the weapon shattering apart on impact. A frustrated growl escaped the Spartan’s mouth as he discarded the ruined weapon and glared up at his foe’s visage. “Does this amuse you, Monster?” The aura around Atelos’ body burned red as he stepped forward and hurtled his shield like a discus at the creature’s face. His aim true, the Spartan watched as his shield slammed against one of the Tarrasque’s eyes, causing it to let out a rumbling roar and reel its head away. Before Atelos had a chance to revel, the surface he stood upon started to move up, and it was then that he realized he still stood on its hand. With no weapon and his shield on the ground beneath him, the Grecian did what anyone would do—he held on for dear life. As the hand lifted up, he spotted something that elicited a mixture of shock and relief.

Yards below him, at the bottom of a vaguely palm-shaped crater, a red fist punched up through the compressed dirt.

With a groan, Proto Man grabbed hold of solid ground and pulled himself up out of the little grave that he’d been forced down into. He lay there for a few moments as his systems ran through the remaining diagnostics. His shock absorbers, both those in his shins and forearms, were blown from the act of resisting the creature’s effort to smash him into a puddle of smashed steel and robot fluids. A somewhat passive aggressive textbox indicated that, had the ground been denser, it wouldn’t have yielded beneath him in such a manner to prevent him from being crushed.

Scrambling up to the lip of the crater, Proto Man glanced around. The three warriors who had accompanied Dio looked a little shell-shocked—their focus on a partially ruined pile of explosives a few yards away. Knowing that they’d sort out their own situation, the android set his attention on the shield half-buried in the soil. A look up showed him that it’s owner was on the creature’s hand, which know was now moving a little too close to its mouth for comfort.

Although his legs still had some kinks to sort out, Proto Man half-hopped, half-shambled over to the shield and tore it up out of the ground. Although it was larger than his entire body and weighed probably half as much, it made no difference to the synthetic limbs of the robot youth. Holding up the shield, Proto Man eyed the two straps that would be fitted around the Spartan’s heavily corded arm muscles. Stepping through the bottom strap, the robot slipped the top on over his head and one shoulder, as if it were a seat belt. It was a little awkward with the metal grip behind his helmet, but Proto Man would live with it for the time being.

His eyes not set up, the android broke into a clumsy sprint, and it wasn’t until a few paces before his leap that the stride returned to his step. From a few yards away, the leader of the other warriors watched curiously as the little machine launched himself up at the monster. Although damaged, the mechanisms in his legs still had enough juice to propel his preteen-sized body high enough to grab onto one of the monster’s nails as it lifted its hand up near its face.

Atelos, whose angry eyes remained glued on the monsters, remained oblivious as the child scrambled up behind him. The Spartan’s aura blazed high like a funeral pyre—no monster was going to intimidate this warrior. With another thunderous roar, the Tarrasque made to throw Atelos into his mouth, but before it could, there was a flash above its head as a lithe figure swooped down from the mess of horns and hardened flesh above its head. Running down the vertical surface, Whirda dropped into a ninety degree baseball slide and drove the shade’s dagger into the creature’s already injured eye. When the blade hit the bottom of the creature’s eye socket, Whirda planted her feet on its cheek and kicked off—her shadow-afflicted body becoming a missile until she hit the creature’s hand and rolled up into a standing position.

“Run.” She whispered as she rushed off toward its arm in an attempt to get some distance before the wounded, angry force of nature remembered they were all within fifteen yards of its mouth. Atelos, who hadn’t expected the woman to materialize from seemingly nowhere, now turned around to see a battered, dirt-caked Proto Man holding his shield.

“This is yours,” the preteen machine replied as he tossed the heavy chunk of wood and bronze at its owner, who caught it and slipped it seamlessly over his arm, as if he’d done so a thousand times before. “Now you better listen to the lady.”

“What will you do?” Atelos inquired, even as he saw the barrel of the boy’s weapon glow blue with energy.

“What I do,” Proto Man shouted as he ran passed the Spartan, dropped to a knee, and fired the charged blast at the face of the creature. He aimed for the scorched patch he had created earlier, and this time, the shot tore through the reinforced hide of the monster, eliciting fresh roars of anger as its lava-like blood started to bubble and seep out of the wound. Before either robotic youth or Spartan could appreciate the wounds worn by the beast, they were both knocked clean from it by a rapid and breath-stealing smack from its other hand.

Amid the descent, the Protoype Robot Master continued to build a charge in the Proto Buster. As he neared the earth at the tail-end of the multi-story plunge, he twisted his body and discharged the blast into ground underneath him. The reaction force of the blast colliding with the soil was enough to negate most of the speed with which his metal body had been accumulated during the fall, and once the energy faded away, he smacked the ground without sustaining any painful bumps or bruises.

Rising up to a vertical position, Proto Man looked up to see that the Tarrasque, even as it trickled magma from fresh wounds, didn’t seem to waver as it now turned its attention to the quartet from the depths of the Moors. Dio and his associates had their own plans, and while they’d been set back, they were still trying to stay the course.

[Alain the Carnedge]

"Oh hell." He muttered to himself, utterly dumbfounded. This was a problem. Their explosives might have been ruined in the chaos. Nothing was going according to plan-there were two other Primes here, probably trying to steal the glory, and, even better, their strategy might have just gone straight to hell. He rushed over to check the status of the detonators, hoping that if anything, they weren't disabled or about to explode before the monster even got near.He checked everywhere, looking for any red lights that indicated that a detonator was about to blow. That'd set a chain of disaster dominoes in motion that would destroy this entire assault. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw there were no flashing lights. This wasn't going as bad as he'd thought, thank Omni.

Beep. Beep.

It appeared that Omni didn't like being thanked. Alain turned around as if he was moving in slow-motion, and there it was. A flashing red light from one of the detonators about to go off. He opened his mouth in surprise, perhaps about to scream in terror or more likely, anger, but he'd apparently lost his voice, and he was only able to make some kind of stunned squeaking noise. Grabbing the thermal detonator, he hurled it at the creature before the explosion ruined everything. It might have set off a chain reaction, sending their entire strategy down, and them along with it. It certainly wouldn't have been enough to take down the Tarrasque itself, even if every explosive went off at once. But the group? Definitely. They would've gone up in flames within a few seconds. The monstrosity was flat-out far more durable than they were, and in a test of endurance, it was going to win. The explosives were their only chance.
that it could only concentrate on killing them to end it's agony, but then it was covered in flame, the explosion sending Kuzan
The detonator flew right in front of the beast's horrible maw, which it didn't notice as the others were causing such intense pain hurtling back, and the creature letting out a horrible, deafening roar in sudden pain. One of it's horns flew away, landing in the nearby village's smoldering remnants. Alain momentarily revelled in his success-this could still be salvageable, even if the ice man was down! Then it turned around, absolutely fuming with unbridled rage, looking for who had caused it momentary suffering. "Goddamn it..." Was all he could mumble, completely exasperated by how this had turned out.

It sprinted towards him, absolutely livid, and Alain dove to the side, then scrambling to get up before it rushed at him again.He groaned at himself. Just how did he manage to mess this up? He quickly turned to Aang so that he could yell "Follow the plan! I'll get back when it's distract-" He was then cut off by the monster charging towards him once more, coming around for another attempt at crushing the insufferable human. It was hit by more energy blasts from behind, Dio's "The World" following the beast to land more hits, but everything only seemed to further piss it off. Nothing hurts quite like an explosion, especially when your other wounds would regenerate without a problem.

It suddenly stopped and raised a fist, Alain barely leaping back in time to dodge, but even though he had evaded the strike, the mere vision of the creature's arm pounding into the ground and shaking the earth beneath him brought a sudden wave of absolute fear. His brain knew that he should really not be fighting this thing-it was just too dangerous. Every part of his body immediately felt the urge to run away and hide instead of continuing on in this suicide mission. But he refused to give up, summoning his blade before the creature came back for yet another attack. It was still being hit by magic, whatever the robokid was using, and The World, but the abomination just wouldn't leave him alone. It had set its sight on the mercenary, and nothing would deter it now!

He could already see the scars of battle fading from the creature's body and swore in annoyance, but there was no time for that. Everyone was trying to divert it's attention, but it was too transfixed on Alain to pay them any heed. The creature moved as expected, though it was still far faster than anyone could have predicted at first. It seemed almost impossible that such a big creature could move so fast, but here they were. It raised a foot and stomped, causing the earth to split yet again, though the damage still wasn't anywhere near big enough to send the thing itself falling into the core of the Pale Moors. What could swallow the group was more like a tiny hole in the ground to this colossus of a creature. But his eye's analysis had another function that he definitely had not installed previously; displaying the results of this thing's attack not too soon after it had started. He had just enough time to leap into the air, and bring his blade down upon the creature with the expected result of cutting through it's hide and spraying it's magma-esque blood as others had previously.

Unfortunately, his blade didn't cut deep enough. It didn't even leave a miniscule scar, as the sword hit one of the monster's scales and bounced off harmlessly. This was a building-sized abomination capable of shattering the will of lesser warriors with a single rage-filled roar. But not this group. They were all hardened warriors (except maybe the so-called avatar), and this creature wasn't enough to send them packing. The allure of glory kept him going, and Alain's feet hit the ground before the beast could send it's fist through the air to retaliate, which would definitely break a lot more than his spirit. If he took one hit from this, he knew that he was done, so evading any attacks was his first priority.(Dio might have been yelling at him to get back to rigging the explosives, he couldn't hear them as he was too focused on not-dying) It seemed like the creature might be felled, and they were partially succeeding in that the creature was taking wounds. It was just regenerating from them just as fast.

Alain ran under the beast's leg, narrowly dodging some incoming attacks from the others. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that someone was picking up something, maybe the horn, from the corpses nearby, and was mildly disappointed that they either wasn't strong enough or hadn't thought of beating the monster to death with the corpses themselves. Trying to push out that thought from his mind as it wasn't anywhere near necessary, the mercenary lunged once more, this time trying to plunging his blade through the beast's leg as it turned around. His aim struck true and managed to pierce it's hide, if only barely, but the beast did not roar in pain as it had before, merely giving what seemed to be an annoyed grunt.

The merc clutched his blade so that he could pull it out of the creature's leg, putting all of his might into causing this beast more harm. The sword left, and so did more of the monster's magma-like blood. It wasn't much, but a wound was a wound. Realising that now was a chance, he swiftly pulled a manticore fang from his cloak and plunged it into the creature's wound before he lost the opportunity. It more than likely felt like nothing but a mosquito bite to the creature, but the poison that was now running through it's veins was far more of a concern, assuming it didn't have some kind of innate resistance, which he lamented that it most likely did.

It was very apparent that it hadn't worked or at least didn't work immediately, as the creature raised it's leg again with the intent of crushing the puny bugs beneath it. Alain bursted a mere second before it crushed him into a fine paste, for a single moment moving faster than his vehicles could to evade the creature. It was not however, fast enough to prevent him from falling over from the incoming shockwave, sending him sprawling across the ground. He got up, groaning, and looked around until he was content that it had given up. "Time to get back to Aang." He muttered, almost completely convinced that he'd finally managed to shake it off his tail.

He actually did, if only for a moment.

The Tarrasque let loose yet another roar, swinging it's claws and stomping it's feet so that it could finally get rid of these pesky flies, but everyone was too skilled, or at least cautious, to take too much damage. The Tarrasque was dealing with so much pain that it didn't know who was causing what, and instead resorted to wild attacks in hopes that it'd hit someone. Alain quietly walked back to Aang without so much as a word of encouragement, attempting to leave the scene before it noticed him again. He didn't bother looking for Kuzan. He was surely out cold. Alain mentally scolded himself for the pun, then stopped, crouching on the ground so that he could analyze the creature. The information'd surely help him survive this mess, or maybe he could even sell it later assuming there were more of these things out there. But as he waited for the profile, he could only breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn't after him anymore. Hell, he might even get out of this alive! But then it appeared to stop and sniff the air for a split second, and suddenly, it rushed for him, the furious monster detecting the familiar scent and looking to kill.

Alain's eyes widened and he stopped his analysis, utterly shocked at how persistent the thing was. It then opened it's titanous mouth, still running, and the mercenary barely jumped back in time to prevent himself being crushed between it's powerful jaws. He wildly swung, too shocked to aim correctly, and while it did in fact hit something, the beast's other horn was far too durable to be snapped off by his toothpick. He turned and bursted again, determined to distance himself from this thing before it ended his life. What was it's deal? He offhandedly realized that maybe it was so determined to kill him seeing as his cloak was literally made out of blood, but that thought faded quickly.

Especially seeing as his burst had sent him plummeting into one of the fissures the abomination had created.

About to fall to his death, Alain plunged his blade into one of the walls around him before his arm'd be torn off from trying later on, quickly coming to a halt far before reaching what he presumed was the Omniverse's hell. Hanging onto the blade with both hands he realised that he had no way of getting back up. He also realised that his sword probably wasn't that far off from snapping. He couldn't hate his blood magic more than he could at the moment; he was utterly seething.

[Drogon]

Aang had been in a state of rather severe panic ever since the Tarrasque had shown its giant, menacing visage. It seemed most of the group was mindlessly flailing about, trying to damage this invincible, lava-bleeding monstrosity in whatever small way they could, gradually draining blood until hopefully it would eventually fall, like mosquitoes sucking blood from an elephant-boar. Well, like mosquitoes, hopefully they could find some insidious way into the creature's bloodstream, some way to kill it that wouldn't be readily apparent.

He himself had decided to guard what remained of their damaged explosives. There was little he could do to the creature, and as such, it was better that he protect what little essence of a strategy the hunting party had prepared beforehand. Furthermore, he was hoping to formulate, before the day was done, a more valid strategy to take down the beast than simply pummeling it until one side was too exhausted to continue.

Aang's trance was thoroughly broken as he watched Alain, retreating from the beast, accidentally send himself flying into a Tarrasque-prepared abyss in the ground. Right. The rest of the good people here were doing their best to take out the beast. Get your wits together. You're the Avatar! He knew he had little to no offensive capabilities, especially against this thing, so he settled for the next-best position in this situation: Backup. He sprinted to the crack containing his endangered ally. There was little he could do at the moment for those fools climbing all over the thing, so he leaned over the edge and called out to the least insane of the pack.

"Velgr! You down there?"

There was movement far down the crack, and a fair ways off horizontally from where Aang crouched on the ledge. In the dim light, Aang could see the figure of a battered man hanging from a weapon of some sort imbedded in the fissure's wall. "That you, Aang? Yeah, down here!" One hand waved frantically before quickly returning to the weapon's hilt.

The crack was just wide enough for Aang to pull out his glider and float safely down to an outcrop only a few inches out of the wall, and directly below Alain. Of course, that lead to the predicament of actually getting the two of them out. The ground suddenly shook again, nearly dislodging both of the ridge's unfortunate inhabitants. Crap. "Okay, we're getting out of here as quickly as possible. Do you have a free hand?"

"A free hand? What? No, I'm holding on for dear life with both, thanks!"

"Well, okay, but the only way I can think to get out of here involves you taking my glider, and it needs to happen as soon as possible."

Alain's head now turned to face Aang, and after ascertaining his sincerity, shook in disbelief. "There's no way that thing can hold me like it can a 12-year-old with wind magic. It won't work."

"Look, you're going to have to -" The walls around them again rattled, and debris began falling from above. Alain barely managed to avoid the impact of a particularly large boulder, which came crashing down straight on Aang's shoulder. "- Uwaah! Mmmpf. Trust me." Aang writhed in pain, holding to the edge only with his right arm as his left shook wildly towards the abyss, Aang hardly able to control it in his pain.

A few seconds passed, and Aang again looked up to Alain. Through the fog of pain, he could see one arm reaching down to him. "Hurry up then, and let's get this over with." Composure partially regained, Aang attempted to retrieve his glider from the strap on his back, but flinched as his arm's muscles again twisted, putting him through yet another bout of agony. Yet, he managed to grab the staff, and let it hang in his limp arm as he again let his nerves return to functional status. By now, he was breathing deeply, sweat dripping from his face as the exertion of forcing himself to move despite his injury and the heat of the still-nearby Tarrasque combined to increase his discomfort in the face of death.

A few more seconds. He could feel again in his left arm. He began lifting it to the sky, each muscle contraction shooting electrical disagreements to his brain, each inch closer to Alain's still-outstretched hand an hour of pure torment. And yet, when the glider finally made its way into his comrade's unsteady grip, already unfurled by Aang's accidental death grip, the pain began to dissipate. He could feel very little in his injured arm, but for now, it was functional. Now, for the hard part. He knew he couldn't airbend at all with his bad arm - the movements would be impossible with his newfound injury. He'd have to do it with his good arm, which meant to keep himself hanging...

He again grabbed onto the tiny ledge with both of his hands. "On three, you're going to let go of the knife, and hold the glider in - eeurk - in both hands, from the sideways pole at the front." Alain examined the small instrument in front of him, finding said handle. He then glared down to Aang in disbelief. "I'll push you out, I'll push you out, I can bend air, you'll be fine. Just do it. There's no other way." The man sighed in exasperation, and prepared for takeoff.

"One... Two... Three!" Aang let go of the ledge with his good arm, pain again shooting up his shoulder and throughout his body. The man above him began to fall, and before Aang was over the debilitating shock, he was already below Aang's meager ledge. Don't. Panic. Your other arm is still fine. A gust of stale, rank air rose up from the chasm below, guided by Aang's better arm, slowly but surely steadying Alain's freefall. And then... He began to rise. Aang put his whole being, his very soul into the one nasty spout of air, pushing up and up and up on his own glider, and now Alain was higher than him, rising. The end was in sight, the surface was so near... And then Aang slipped. Something about the air changed. The glider turned, slowly at first, and then it flipped over, going into a freefall. He watched as Alain's figure began to flail, becoming disconnected as the glider flipped, tossed off to the side. "Wait... No. No! I was saving you, no!" He let go of the first gust, again claiming air from below to push his glider in the direction he'd seen Alain fall. But it was too late. The secretive, hooded man was nowhere to be seen.

Above the crack, Alain laid in the dirt for a moment, having just been tossed off of an unsteady glider, before standing up, brushing himself off, and focusing again on the task at hand. He couldn't hear Aang's cries of despair, for they were muffled by the warm, hard ground, and by now he was at least a good 30 meters from the boy. The glider's trajectory had been disturbed not by Aang slipping, but by the natural breeze of the surface, a breeze he was only too glad to again feel on his skin after being stuck in that dank, collapsing hole.

Aang gave up. He couldn't see Alain. Obviously, the man had fallen to his doom, and he was to blame. Aang gritted his teeth, and began wiping his tears from his eyes with his sleeve as he regrabbed the wall with his fully functional hand. He'd be back, he'd be revived at the Nexus, this was the Omniverse. Primes didn't really die. That said, he had still let down his allies, and lost his glider to boot. There was only one thing to do: Climb back up, somehow, and do what he could to defeat the beast, if nothing else, for the fallen one. Aang reached upwards, to another one-inch ledge, and began his ascent among the falling of rocks from above and the dankness of... Whatever it was that was below.

[Albert Wesker]

Things had definitely gone to hell, in the proverbial sense. And from what relatively little he had seen, if the course of things didn't change, just might end up going that direction literally, too.

The idea of fighting a "building-size" monster hadn't really been much to go on, but it was enough to give a general sense of scale, if nothing else. But the reality of it, upon actually seeing the beast was another matter entirely. Something akin to the size of the legendary pirate Whitebeard, or perhaps the Pacifista or Gecko Moriah...that was approximately what he had expected. Still huge, compared to a normal man, but not so...gargantuan as the beast that they were now facing off against. It would have dwarfed even the huge figures he had expected, just as they dwarfed a normal man. The sight of it, its sheer size, and the power that was suggested by its simple bulk, let alone whatever supernatural forces were at work within or around it, and at its ferocity as it responded to the injuries laid upon it... Every second was a struggle not to bolt and flee as far away as quickly as possible. It would have been the smart thing to do, against something so terrible.

But smart wasn't always right.

Running away would have meant abandoning the other people who had signed on to end this monstrosity's terrorizing of the area. And while he might have been able to live with himself over that, somehow or other, it still didn't make it right. And as angry as they had already made the beast, if it should win the day against the gathered hunters, there was no telling how terrible the rampage afterward would be. His personal honor, special brand of justice, and rational thoughts clashed for what seemed like far longer than the few short moments it took, until he was caught mid-leap by an explosion. So focused on keeping track of the goings-on of the situation, and looking for an opening to do some damage or other, or keep the Tarrasque distracted, he had been completely unprepared for the blast.

He had readied a lance of ice, the air around the weapon shimmering with the strong infusion of Haki it bore, and leaped up, intending to hurl the weapon straight into the beast's maw. He was completely caught unawares, only given the barest warning by a flash of fire before he was engulfed in it as well. If it could be called luck, he was lucky enough to not be caught directly in the blast, and was knocked clear of the worst of it, as much by the concussive force of the blast itself as the ensuing roar of pain and fury of the Tarrasque.

The ice man collided with a mostly-whole chunk of still-standing building, and went clean through it, landing amid a pile of rubble and dust. The roof shifted worryingly, as if it were about to come down on top of him as well. Thankfully only a chunk or two dislodged and thunked down, leaving him safe from further harm or annoyance. But he was already plenty injured and in more than enough pain. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, half-crawling, half-staggering back out of the structure, his head spinning from the dizzying impact, and his entire side ablaze with intense pain and scorched injuries. He briefly acknowledged it was a wonder he could move at all, and chalked it up to some miraculous combination of dumb luck, years of training and experience in ignoring and fighting through injury, and not taking the blast full-on to begin with.

He shook his head, trying to ignore the pain altogether, and leaped up onto the building he had just come out of, landing more heavily than intended in a crouch. He mused briefly that he just might end up with matching burn scars on both side of his body, now, as he surveyed the situation before him. While he couldn't say the 'battle' was going well, as far as he could tell no one was seriously injured yet, and they were at least inflicting damage on the hellish war machine they were pitted against. The regenerative ability of the beast was impressive and frightening, even given it was supposedly being slowed and impaired by the apparently "holy" explosives being used against it. Regenerative abilities on such a scale, outside of a Logia user being blown apart while in their intangible elemental state were entirely outside of his knowledge and experience, and anything to do with supposedly holy, blessed objects were likewise entirely foreign.

The idea of a monstrosity like the Tarrasque, and the magma spilling from its wounds, however...he understood that well enough. It was far and above his expectations, and what he had in mind to compare it against for strategy, but he was familiar with fighting such impossibilities. It didn't mean he was any less scared, or debilitated effectively right off the bat, but...he would just have to do whatever he could.

He somehow didn't imagine his particular abilities being of terrible use in directly damaging the beast, but he had other ideas to be of use.

He took a swift step forward, lowering into a crouch, and blurred forward in a dash with as much speed as he could. He darted through the air, hit the ground running, and a second later, made another leap, blurring with the speed, and slid to a halt at the edge of the that Alain had just been helped out of by Aang. He crouched down on one knee by the edge, peering down to see just how far Aang was in the darkness. It would be easy to grab him and leap back out again, with his current height in the pit...but there was nothing to get a foothold on to get a good leap back out again.

But he could make one...

"Aang! Get a good grip; things might get a little shaky in a second."

"They already are!" The young Avatar's grip faltered for a moment, and a cringe told Kuzan he had probably been injured in some way. The continuously falling rocks, most of them small and mere flakes and chunks from the walls of the split in the earth, had probably been to blame, if he were to hazard a guess.

"Things might get worse for just a second."

That was all the ice man had to say, as he clenched one hand into a fist, lowering it to the ground beside him, knuckles touching the rugged earth. After several seconds, he opened his hand wide, turned it sideways, and swept it toward him. From the wall opposite Aang, the rock cracked and split as a large spire of ice, flat and angular, burst from it, spearing into the wall opposite. It narrowed sharply as it went to the point now buried in the wall under the Avatar, and at the further shaking and cracking of the wall, more chunks of earth and rock fell in a rain, and among their number was Kuzan. "No time to climb out the hard way..."

He landed heavily on the chunk of ice bridging the pit in the earth. The distance was going to make it tricky with Aang's extra weight, but...he should be able to manage it. "Let go, Aang. Time to get back to the surface and rejoin the fight." The young Avatar simply stared at the poofy-haired man for a long second, as if trying to debate if he was crazy. A particularly large chunk of dislodged earth, nearly the size of his head, falling mere inches from colliding with one of his hands, clattering on into the darkness below seemed to make up his mind for him, and he loosened his grip, dropping the couple feet to the icy surface below.

Rather uncerimoniously, Kuzan grabbed the young Avatar around the waist, as a crack appeared in the ice -- the trembling of the earth from the Tarrasque's fury above, and the growing heat from the hellish 'blood' the beast spilled, and Kuzan's lack of complete focus thanks to injuries had left it unstable. He knelt down, flexing at the knees, and jumped. He sailed upward, easily reaching the edge of the tear in the earth, and grabbed hold of it. He hadn't quite had the height to clear it, but he swung his body around like a pendulum and tossed Aang roughly up over the lip of the chasm. He was only shortly behind, kicking off the side of the pit and landing roughly on its other side.

"Things never do end up going as smoothly as planned..." he grumbled, mostly to himself, as he rose up to return to the battle. He was beginning to wish he had minded his own business back in Camelot, and never came investigating this poor business...

[Atelos]

The giant Tarrasque limb came out of nowhere and knocked Atelos and Blues to the side. Atelos felt a crack underneath his skin. Pain flared up as he felt his body bounce off the ground. Atelos hit his head against the floor and felt his blood spill on the floor. His vision faded in and out as he saw Blues barely make it to the ground ok. Black overcame him in and out as he heard sounds of explosions and he opened his eyes to see Blues shooting at the beast like a boss. Fading in and out of sight he saw the giant beast stampeding and rapid sights of people going in and fighting.

Is it my time to play Spartan? The voice creepily cooed in his head followed by a sinister laugh. Atelos began to push himself up and he felt his head beginning to mend itself. He felt an oozing liquid seep out of his head as his skin was forced back together. A feeling of nausea washed over him as he lost strength in his arm and crumpled to the ground. He felt the world leaving from him before a hand grabbed him and helped pull him up. The red ten-year old was pulling on the large Spartan. Atelos was spurred to his feet and as he wobbled to get his balance, he felt the Grecian god curse as he was forced into the recesses in his mind.

“Are you alright?” The boy questioned with a concerned look on his face. Atelos assumed that he didn’t look too good, especially with the black oozing liquid just finishing fixing his head. Atelos smiled and grunted as he recovered from his small break to see the large monstrosity before them, as strong as ever. Atelos felt an insatiable rage as he looked at the beast. Literal fire began to leak out like little faucets as Atelos gritted his teeth at the mere sight of the monstrosity.

“You want me to run? I’m just getting started!” Atelos cracked his neck and chuckled as his younger associate smiled and raised his arm to help finish off this beast. He saw the boy begin to charge his arm cannon as Atelos grinned and donned his shield charging towards the titan that Atelos had no chance of harming. He ran towards the giant beast with his shield and saw the blast fly past him and dig itself into the hide of the monster. Atelos ran up towards the thing and saw it cry out a monstrous roar as the blast opened another wound in it’s leg, the magma flowing out of the wound. Atelos formed his three swords as the building charged into him causing him to be stuck to the creatures massive leg. The Tarrasque let out a giant roar as Atelos clinged onto the leg for death life. It was running and he began to slip from the legs. Atelos grabbed on for dear life as he put one arm up and grabbed onto the skin of the creature. Magma dripped from the wound onto Atelos’ shoulder and he felt the skin peel off his flesh and the burning sensation caused him to clench and grab onto the skin ever more tight.

This creature shall pay for the damage to my vessel. The thought raced through his mind and he new Hades was doing all he could to keep the Spartan from killing himself.

His body went up in flames and he continued to climb up on the body, his newfound flames causing the molten Magma to roll off his skin like water. His body began to tire out and ache and by the time Atelos got to the newfound wound his flames had begun to die out and Atelos struggled to grab a hold onto the monster. The fresh wound from the robotic warrior had almost closed and the magma seemed to dry up. His grip failing, Atelos knew he had to do something quick. A sword materialized before his head and impaled into wound right before it closed causing the monster to scream in pain and unleashing a frenzy; kicking and stampeding and destroying everything it could to stop the pain. The creature swiped at Atelos and grabbed him and brought him up into his hand.

Atelos struggled to get out of the grapple but the creatures strength was almost crushing his insides. It put him up into his eyes and Atelos saw nothing but the face of death and a chilling sense of fear ran down his spine. Atelos ignited himself on fire and watched as the Tarrasque gave no indication of letting him go or suffering any pain from the fire. It opened it’s wide jaw and began to move Atelos towards its mouth.

“Oh shit.”

You are a god damn idiot Spartan.

[PepsiWhirda]

They were losing. For all the aid provided by their ragtag band of new allies, they had served only to fuel the tarrasque's ire. The primordial weapon waded its way through the abandoned village like knee-deep water, seeming to regard the powerful Primes as no more than so many pesky insects to be swatted. Unless they could find a way to deal more than superficial damage, sealing off the Verse would truly become their only option.

To that end, Whirda resolved herself to find the de facto leader of their new allies. Her distaste for the man had been immediate. Years of isolation after she learned the truth about her father had taught her to distrust men who oozed his brand of saccharine sweet charisma. It was simply not the stuff of virtuous men.

Even so, the situation forced her hand. For all his pomposity, he had been the only one to deal the beast a significant blow. And indeed, true to his word, those wounds on the tarrasque opened by his holy oil were the slowest to close, continuing to spill rivers of magma down its sides.

It was between two of those rivers that Whirda sprinted. She deftly navigated along the tarrasque's spine, avoiding the bubbling rock and errant blasts from Blues, and leapt out into open space, vanishing with a crack.

When she reappeared, she let her knees buckle. She landed hard in a slide on the tarrasque's arm, just above the elbow. Thirty feet below she could see the helmeted warrior wriggling in the beast's grasp, flames limning his body. Even from this far away, through the cacaphony of the tarrasque's preternatural howling, she could hear the warrior's screams as his bones started to crack beneath the pressure.

Still sliding, Whirda created a shadow clone perched just above the warrior, on top of the tarrasque's hand.

"Blues!" she screamed, waving her arms at the preteen machine. She could barely see his visor tilt toward her through the smoke. "Catch him!"

There was no time to see if he had understood. Her slide ended at the tarrasque's wrist, where she planted her feet and sprung straight up, twisting and tumbling until she could see that the warrior was watching her.

"This is going to hurt!" Whirda yelled. She vanished a split second after the warrior's resigned nod.

She reappeared atop the tarrasque's spined and armored head, bracing herself against one of its remaining horns. She watched as, far below, her shadow clone detonated, wisps of shadow flung in every direction by sheer concussive force.

Roaring, the tarrasque relinquished its grasp on the battered warrior. The crackling flames limning his body flickered and faded as he slipped into unconsciousness. He dropped toward the ground just as Blues skidded into place beneath him, catching the warrior and absolving the bone-shattering momentum of his fall.

Whirda's lips quirked in a wry grin. Hell if this isn't fun.

She turned in response to a flicker of movement along the ground at the tarrasque's flank. There! The de facto leader of the squad of new Primes darted between the tarrasque's legs and out of sight, moving toward what remained of the village.

A final shadow step brought her beside Blues, who knelt beside the unconscious warrior. He seemed to be recovering quickly, his wounds stitching and fading away before her very eyes.

"This approach is useless," Whirda said. "We have to retreat to those explosives and come up with a plan."

As if in response, Dio Brando trotted up to them, breathing hard but seemingly otherwise unaffected by the battle. "The aberration's strength exceeded even my estimations," he said, eyeing the tarrasque with new respect. "Now, what sort of a plan do you have in mind?"

[Proto Man]

How long had it been? Thirty minutes? Thirty hours?

Proto Man’s internal clock told him one thing, but his perception of reality told him something else entirely.

Having failed to cripple the creature in their first string of attacks, the makeshift group pulled back, hoping to salvage a strategy from whatever they could piece together. As the others made to return to what remained of their explosives, Proto Man paused and turned to glance back at Atelos, who was still favoring one his legs. The stop of the preteen machine caused Whirda to pivot and tilt her head.

“I’ll buy you a little time to figure out a plan, okay?” He said with a grin as he lifted his Proto Buster. “Trust me… it’s kind of what I do best.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Whirda nodded her head and was gone with the rest of them, leaving Proto Man and a still groggy Atelos just a few hundred feet in front of the lumbering Tarrasque. “What are you doing?” The Spartan inquired as he sat up and brushed off his knees.

At that, the preteen machine lifted his hand cannon. “Stalling.” He muttered as he released another over-charged bolt of energy up at the creature heading their way. The blast ripped through the sky before slamming into one of its eyes and causing it to grumble and slam one of its feet down with enough fury to shake the landscape. Neither Proto Man nor Atelos wavered as they stared up at the creature. The Spartan readied his free-floating swords and prepared for the force of nature to once again bear down upon them.

“Strategy?” Atelos asked as the two backed up a few paces.

“That’s what they’re doing back there,” Proto Man muttered as he started to charge another attack in the barrel of his weapon. “We’re just here to make it bleed.”

The Spartan furrowed his brow, and although he glanced back at the rest of the crew, he didn’t move from his spot next to the preteen robot. Turning back toward the Tarrasque, the Grecian adjusted his dented helmet and slammed his empty hand against the front of his shield. “Come get some!” He screamed as a giant hand came crashing down at the twosome.

Throwing himself hard to the left, Atelos hit the ground and rolled up into a crouched position. With the adrenaline surging in his veins, he spun around and threw himself at the creature’s appendage. The swords that had once orbited him leisurely now launched themselves at the Tarrasque’s body, hacking and slashing with hapless abandon. Although the blades were powered by all the fury the Spartan could muster, they failed to bite into the scaled flesh of the monster.

“Spartan!” The voice of the boy caused Atelos to glance over. He saw Proto Man standing just a few yards away—a wide grin on his chin—as he held one of the explosive charges in his opposing hand. “Catch.” With a grunt, the youth hurtled the makeshift bomb over to the Spartan, who caught it and immediately dropped it onto the monster’s limb. Before Atelos had a chance to properly run for his life, the charged blast shot through the air and slammed into the explosive device. It was only the primordial instinct to swing his shield around that spared the Grecian from being consumed by the enormous blast that threw him a few dozen yards away from the scene of the skirmish.

With a smile, Proto Man watched as the Tarrasque reeled back. A giant chunk of the creature was missing between two of its fingers, rending both of the limbs momentarily useless as they dangled from magma-soaked tendons and structurally unsound bones. Glancing back over his shoulder, Proto Man saw that the other members of the group were falling back with what remained of their arsenal. If he knew Whirda, the woman probably had a plan by now. If not here, the man known as Dio would certainly have something up his sleeve. Something about him gave the impression of an individual rarely caught off guard, even when carefully planned situations went sour.

That left Proto Man as a makeshift barricade against a massive, lumbering heap of monster. The Tarrasque loomed above him, its long shadow bathing him in darkness as he watched the creature take a moment to look at its ruined hand. Did it register pain? It roared and bellowed and made all the other noises that one often associated with injury, but it never seemed to slow down. To make matters worse, only the explosives seemed to have any long-lasting effect on the creature. The wounds to its face inflicted by the Prototype Robot Master were nearly healed, with only some dried magma left behind to indicate any trace of former injury.

Was this creature even killable? Dio and his group seemed to believe that their weapons could slay the monster, but the reality staring them in the face showed otherwise.

A glance at his HUD revealed that the Robot Master was starting to quickly burn through most of his reserves. While some of the minor scuffles were attempting to mend of their own accord, the majority of his ancillary systems were starting to power off in order to reroute the energy to where it could serve a better purpose. It was times like this where he felt like he was a human being freezing to death, and his body was jettisoning its extremities to protect its core from the elements.

“This is pointless, child.”

Proto Man glanced over to see an irate Spartan limping toward him. Atelos’ helmet was gone, revealing a head of partially singed hair, and despite the fact that he was clearly injured; the man’s aura blazed around his dirt- and blood-stained body. All it took, however, was a look into his eyes to see that something had changed behind closed doors. There was a vile, repugnant fierceness in the Spartan’s gaze, and all of his mannerisms conveyed a carefully maintained maliciousness just waiting to be unleashed.

“Do you have a plan then?” Proto Man demanded. He might be a child, but the machine wasn’t a pushover. Omni himself could shove him down, and the robot would stand back up and get in his face.

Upon hearing the child’s question, ‘Atelos’ snickered and slapped a hand across the surface of his shield. “I’m going to kill it.” At that, the Spartan rushed forward, his shield in front of him as he made for the creature’s hind leg. A few minutes later, Atelos was gone, having started an ascent destined to take him atop the fel monster.

Ignoring the Spartan warrior, the Tarrasque had set its sights upon the boy with the gun arm. It was at a methodical pace that the primordial beast approached Proto Man; much like a wolf would stalk a wounded lamb. He may have been battered and wounded, but the preteen machine didn’t think of himself as a bleating farm animal, and he’d be damned if that was the impression he was going to leave for posterity.

A flash of color washed over Proto Man, replacing his normal color palette with one of orange and red. After taking a brief moment to flex out his worn legs, the android sprinted forward and jumped, hoping against all things that he still had enough juice in the thrusters to get the job done. As the preteen robot soared through the air, he released a stream of fire designed to keep the creature off guard. Whether or not it did any lasting harm to a monster that literally had lava coursing through its veins, Proto Man couldn’t be certain. At the very least, the diversion allowed him to come crashing down on the back of the Tarrasque’s neck.

“Now then…” Proto Man muttered as he turned around and scrambled up onto the creature’s head. With one of its horns blown off, he was able to slump over the stump and try to process the situation.

Legs are shot. Arms are barely within functioning parameters. Buster close to overheating. Power cells need to be recharged sooner rather than later. The notice on his internal display told him that he could ill-afford to keep fighting at this capacity without suffering from very adverse effects. Since he didn’t fancy reliving his exeunt from the Ashen Steppes, Proto Man knew he’d have to be a little more conservative from this point forward. After all, the creature’s death might only be the beginning of a protracted conflict, especially if there was anything more than just ‘fame and glory’ to be had from its demise.

“What are you waiting for, Boy?” The rasping voice of Atelos snapped Proto Man from his calculations. He turned to see the Spartan clawing his way up onto the creature’s cranium. “Put up or shut up. I’m not waiting around all day for them to science this beast to death.”

With that, Atelos shoved passed Proto Man and made right for the less dense carapace near the front of the behemoth’s face.

Switching over the Proto Sword in the hope of conserving some energy, the android followed behind the unhinged Spartan. If they were lucky, the group below would come up with something before the two of them got smashed and/or devoured.

[Alain the Carnedge]

Alain quietly begun his analysis of the beast again, crouching low and activating his invisibility, the black sigils spreading across his cloak. He couldn't do anything for the kid, who seemed to have fallen into the abyss in the mercenary's place. Despite seeing more than a fair few of people die, the merc did feel a slight twinge of guilt. He seemed to have incapacitated two of the members, even if it was by accident. But there wasn't anything he could do for them, even assuming that they weren't dead. Alain didn't have the means to heal Kuzan, nor the means to save Aang from the pits of Omnihell. Hopefully they either both survived, or at least they'd both "respawn" if he was to believe that primes couldn't truly die.

Thoughts of a less friendly-fire happy bounty hunter aside, the beast's "abilities" quickly became evident: It wasn't housing any secret techniques like eye-lasers or fire breath, which was a relief. On the other hand, it was still damn-near impossible to kill or even injure this monstrosity without the explosives. He was actually genuinely surprised that his blade managed to scratch the creature at all. Thankfully the beast itself was apparently occupied with identity crisis spartan and robokid, so it hadn't had a chance to find Alain alive, at which point it'd most likely resolve to correct its mistake and crush him into a fine paste.

Confident that the creature couldn't find him, he frantically looked around for the explosives. They were obviously the team's only chance of destroying this creature, and even if it wasn't much of a plan, there wasn't exactly much else they could do. They injure it without them? It'd regenerate. They run away? There was no need for this crusade in the first place. The beast would also keep terrorizing the citizens, but to the mercenary that was just a minor concern.

Bingo. Their bombs seemed that they were relatively unscathed from the battle, the stray thermal detonator from earlier aside. It didn't appear that they were in any immediate danger as well, which came as a relief. Everyone was doing a remarkable job at keeping the Tarrasque distracted, leaving more than enough time for Alain to creep towards the explosives while still under the cloak's invisibility spell. A few good hits from these things and it was hopefully going down, he thought. If anything, he might get an opportunity to destroy the beast's heart before it regenerated from the small amount of wounds that had already been inflicted. Time was of the essence here-the beast was also, if the analysis wasn't faulty, capable of even regenerating lost limbs and bone, which made the destruction of one of it's horns seem almost negligible. Even the holy oil surely couldn't stop the beast's ungodly regeneration for long.

He carefully stepped across the ground, but at the same time, attempted to be as quick as he could. Falling into a fissure again wasn't on his to-do list. Strangely, it was all he could manage not to run away in spite of how many monsters like this he'd faced. This Omniverse also seemed to have an adverse effect on his mind as well-usually he'd laugh and merely prepare for the battle ahead, but whether it was the creature itself or the power drop that caused these fears, he didn't know.

Reaching what was likely their only hope, Alain immediately sprinted over and hastily grabbed the last few detonators from the destroyed crate without slowing him down or accidentally triggering a detonation. That was certainly the last thing they needed, and the faster they got this done, the better. Alain summoned his blade and got ready to charge the beast. He needed just a single moment and hopefully this thing would be incapacitated long enough for them to destroy it's heart and purge the Moors of it's miserable existence. Tearing it apart would be more than a pleasure after it had mercilessly hunted him down and forced him into a fissure, and he hoped that he'd look back on the moment of it's demise later and laugh hysterically.

And so, he ran. Leaping across the numerous cracks in the earth with relative ease (he noted offhandedly that it was actually impressive that the damage to the environment still wasn't impairing the Tarrasque's fighting ability) he launched into battle, a quite literally invisible warrior hoping that at last, this fight could be over.

The first part of the plan was to injure it's legs enough so that it'd topple over. Even the most deadly of beasts usually can't do much when they've fell over aside from trying to get back up, so hopefully this wouldn't be an exception. What could it do? He pondered, still advancing towards the beast under the invisibility. All it had was the ability to thrash around and try to get back up if it fell. Surely this was the smartest course of action.

Casting his doubts aside as there was little time for such things at this point, he slowed his pace and ran low once he got close to the Tarrasque itself. It was now he understood why the beast was so dangerous despite not having some more flashy powers. All it needed was it's regeneration, and no matter how strong you were or how much pain you put it in, the wounds you inflicted would merely heal. It would always win. If you had no means to stop it's healing, then you do not beat the beast: you survive. Thankfully, they did have those means.

Approaching from the back and deftly ducking under the beast's swinging tail, Alain waited for a few seconds until he was confident that the monster couldn't sense his presence from this close, then pulled out one of the stored thermal detonators and hovered his finger over the button that'd hopefully send this thing tumbling into one of the fissures that it had created. Oh, what irony that would be! Alas, the environmental damage still hadn't reached the level where they could hurl their foe into the abyss and be done with it, but maybe with time. Not like it mattered, the beast would surely collapse if he got a good hit, right?

Despite holding the detonator that might seal their victory in his hand, he still did not press the button. It could also secure their loss, as the spartan and Roboboy were in range of the blast. Dio and the mysterious woman were still unaccounted for, however. Where they had wandered off to was a mystery to him, but it was unlikely that the bloodsucker'd managed to seduce the woman and ran off with her. Killing his allies still wasn't a priority though, at least not yet. He could warn them, yes, but the beast probably wasn't fond of letting 'em get out of range. Ducking to evade the beast's tail again, he swore under his breath.

Get it to come after me, instead. When it's ran far enough, detonate the explosives and...die, I guess. "This is gonna hurt, isn't it?" he muttered to nobody in particular.

Approaching from the back again but far more aggressive this time, he took a moment to ready his blade before plunging it deep into the creature's leg, as he had done before. Unsurprisingly, it had little more effect than it did the last time, and it didn't even react when he tore the sword out. He scowled. Surely this thing must have some kind of weak point? It definitely didn't seem like it. It's tongue was probably made of titanium or something even more stupid. Well, there was only one other option.

The sigils on his cloak disappeared, and he jumped onto the beast's tail as his invisibility faded, starting to run and then bursting before it managed to shake him off, barely managing to cling to one of the spikes on it's shell. Continuing his attack, Alain ran up to the creature's head, waved to the others with his other hand because he thought it'd be funny, then jumped down, grabbing the beast's remaining horn and hanging from it for a second or two before stabbing one of the creature's eyes. Not bothering to tear his blade out this time as living took priority, he immediately let go of the beast's horn and, when his feet hit the ground, sprinted away before it pulverised him.

Breathing heavily from exhaustion, Alain turned around to check whether or not the beast was following him. That question was promptly answered by a snarling, demonic monster charging in his direction at max speed, crushing the remnants of whatever village used to be here beneath it's feet. His eyes widened for a split second before he took off, swiftly taking out a few of the detonators and pushing the buttons. The red lights flashed, and despite fatigue he forced himself to keep going. Not much further, he thought. He dropped the detonators, the beast getting ever-closer, and the explosion sent it roaring in pain again, and Alain flying away.

Landing less than gracefully from the explosion and incredibly thankful that there was apparently no pain, Alain scrambled to his feet without any difficulties. Seemed the others caught up and managed to catch it's attention again. Perhaps the beast was too angry to focus on anyone in particular now. More magma was pouring from the creature's new wounds, but it waded through it's own lava-esque blood like it did so all the time. Deciding he wanted nothing to do with that unless there were no other options he quietly retreated, and began summoning some supplies to patch up his own wounds. He didn't know where the bag of medicine went, but they probably forgot it at the Manor. With luck this nightmare of a creature would breathe it's last soon.

[Drogon]

Well, apparently Alain was alive after all. How, Aang had no idea, but he was certainly relieved nonetheless. His ineffective Tarraqtics notwithstanding, the more primes still standing the better, and the beast seemed to be beginning to show its one true weakness other than, of course, the heart. It was so obvious now, and Aang mentally hit himself a few times for overlooking the most basic flaw of the beast - It would infinitely regenerate. And it couldn't stop itself. Or if it could, somehow, it certainly would never consciously choose to. It also bled lava, and lava is a substance that seems to have a few rather immutable properties - such as its tendency to cool off and thicken. Granted, the Tarrasque's skin was seemingly hot enough to keep that process at bay, but not forever, and as of yet, the creature hadn't stayed in place for any period of time long enough to make use of this quirk.

The stench of the great hulking beast again engulfed Aang as he sprinted to its new location, only increasing as he gained on it and as more temporary wounds collected on the thing's legs. It was now veritably wading through its own blood, though it wouldn't be for long - At this rate, someone or another would lure the creature away again in an attempt to gain some imperceptible advantage through stalling for time. That may have been good before, while they were still gathering knowledge and still had holy power-infused explosives to plant, but that was no longer the case and the ragtag crew of primes old and new needed to stand their ground here, once and for all, else they be rapidly and inarguably consumed with hasty.

"Alain! Everyone! Stop running!" Sweat dribbled down Aang's face and body, his injured arm hanging uncomfortably limp at his side and his frame slumped sideways to compensate. He was a great runner, being an airbender and all, but the dry, extreme heat of the air around him was causing him to pant and perspire like never before. A crack of sharp pain ran through his throat, serving only to highlight its parched state and said situation's incongruity with loud shouting. "We have to keep it here!" Another cough, this time accompanied by a hacking gulp of desert-dry wind in a feeble attempt to return moisture to the throat and continue his warning. "I'll distract it, just don't -" *wheeze* "- D-don't run! Don't let it chase you! I'll -" This time, a phlegm-filled gag, causing Aang to trip, ending up kneeling beside the snarling maw of the malificent brute. He muttered unintelligibly under his breath for a moment before adding, "I'll distract it from the front."

The Tarrasque had noticed him. It would've been quite the surprise had it not, considering their relative locations and Aang's current aura of weakness. It almost seemed the beast could sense his useless arm and screaming lungs just as well as a shark might blood in the water, or an airbender the shifting breeze. A monstrous claw, twisted in nature and showing only the barest scars of its injuries of but a few minutes before, came crashing down at him, and he shot up, just barely managing to only be grazed by the surprisingly rapid appendage. No glider. Only airbending. As the other claw came swiping from the side, a gust of scorched air hit Aang in the back, propelling him forwards out of the way of certain death and onto an unstable perch on the creature's spine.

"Slash the legs! Get its feet stuck in its own blood! Then we can aim for the heart!" That was the last phrase he uttered before no more sound would come out. His voice was now officially off-limits, it would seem. More restrictions.

The Tarrasque was getting bored of the buzzing gnat on its back, and its attention was again returned to the slightly meatier leeches now surrounding him on the ground. Aang's precarious perch lurched dangerously as the beast spun to face a different adversary, and he was forced to use his one good arm in grabbing the monster's spine to postpone his inevitable fall from glory. At least a few of his teammates seemed to have gotten the message, and so Aang was content in his observation having been appropriately received. Now, he could go back to actually carrying out what he preached...

The now effectively one-armed, mute twelve-year-old let go of the burning handhold and flopped to the nearly-equally-scorched ground after a rather bumpy 50-foot decline. His face landed square in the dirt, only inches away from the ever-growing pool of lava emanating from the underside of the atrocious lizard; had he had hair, it would surely have been rapidly set aflame by sheer proximity. Aang scampered to his feet, quickly shuffling back a few feet, and looked up to find himself under the left of the creature's belly. Don't let it move. He gave himself a quick shake to ease his newly-found full-body stiffness at the hands of a living cliff, though an ache of the same cause would not so easily be hindered. Do not give in. Teeth gritted and eyebrows crossed, the young and bruised airbender called upon an old favorite - the Air Scooter.

The air, as Aang had discovered, cared little about a person's pain, suffering, or injuries, and would yield to experienced benders with little effort provided the necessary motions to control it were still possible. The air was a neutral force, and didn't much care for the goals, necessities and futures of men. It did, however, resent being torn asunder by the unnatural heat and the unbearable stench, being forced into impurity by such abominations of nature as that about which it had eddied around the Pale Moors for far too long now. As such, it gave in more willingly than usual to Aang's beckoning, forming almost on its own into a whirling, scathing sphere of searing airstreams working together with the parallel purposes of propelling the battered youngling onward and lashing out vengefully at any other power which might dare reckon with the primordial force of the winds.

Soon enough, the Avatar, oblivious in his suffering to the cries and exclamations and urgings of the others on his side, came again to the front end of the Tarrasque, this time glaring up at it head-on in direct defiance of its power. He would be the bait, the others the hook. He would keep the thing bound in place as the rest secured its fate in Hell. Though he couldn't say it as he perched upon his round, writhing throne, determination his only emotion and pain a thing of the past, a single phrase flowed through his mind, overtaking all else and freezing time for the briefest of moments as everything around him but his fiercest adversary disappeared into grey nothingness: "Come at me."

[Atelos]

This vessel fit well just like a new suit, only the finest of quality was worthy for the God of Death. Spartans...what beautiful creatures, they sure know how to make a good meat suit. They were strong, willing and unyielding...however the latter proved to be a negative in his case. However, Hades liked the struggle. It fed him more power, it kept him entertained, and gave him something to aspire for.

Hades strided over to the creatures face with the robot boy not to far behind. Damn this creature...why did the Spartan have to pick such an opponent. Such futile ideas such as honor. Honor is for the dead. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the statement and put on another grim face as he reached the creatures skull. The short boy came behind him and he couldn’t help but wonder...why? He knelt down on the ground looking for some sort of weakness but the skull was as hard as the Spartan’s shield. A guttural roar came from beneath them and the monster began to shake it’s head in acknowledgement to the pests that made its head itch. Hades was flung from his position and he flew straight into the horn of the beast. His air flew out of him and he struggled to breathe as he noticed the Robot holding on for dear life as the Tarrasque struggled and continued to chase down their allies. Hades pulled himself up and continued to peer for any weak points of the beast.

Movement pulled his attention from the corner of his eye and he saw one of his companions waving like an idiot to the two who tried to end the beast. The shaking around him began to calm down and before Hades could even begin to look, the bounty hunter began to sprint towards the creatures face. So is the man going to help us? However, he slid down the monster’s face completely ignoring him and ran over and stabbed the creatures eye. The man promptly jumped off the beast and sprinted to be as far away as possible...was the wave a signal to leave...Hades didn’t want to take any chances. Hades looked off where to run but glanced back at the clueless machine. He was shaking his head, almost as if he were beginning to clear his mind. Hades ran over to the boy and picked him up. He was much heavier than he expected. Damn how much does this kid eat? It didn’t matter he ran towards the edge of the beasts skull and jumped off.

*BOOM*

An explosion blast right where Hades and the boy were and Hades was sent flying. He covered the boy’s body as the explosion covered him in flames and scorched his back. As the missile of Spartan and Machine came closer towards the ground Hades turned his back towards the ground preparing for impact.

They made impact and Hades could feel the crunch of the mans bones and the sharp shards of rocks digging into his blackened skin. Hades got up with the seemingly unscathed Robot boy and he looked questionably at him.

“Why would you do that?” Blues looked up at him with curiosity and glanced worriedly at the monster that chased the idiot Bounty hunter.

“You still remain of use to me...oh. I guess play time is over. I’ll see you soon...blues. The Spartan shook his head and the whitish color in his eyes seemed to fade away into the oblivion as Atelos regained control. He looked around for a moment and writhed in pain as he felt all of the burns, cuts, and broken bones start to mend itself. He was brought to his knees and he felt the laughter in his head as the God began to watch his suffering. He glared at the target of his newfound rage and saw the monk providing lots of noise and causing the abomination to focus on him.

“You take the right leg. I’ll take the left. The monk should provide enough distraction for us to do something substantial. He glanced at Blues and the boy gave him a firm nod before they ran off to help murder the giant beast. The beast let out a giant roar as the monk began to play with it, scooting around on air and avoiding the beasts grasp. Atelos cleared his mind as he ran up towards the beast’s leg, his bodies injuries slowing him down and causing him to almost give up in pain. He forced himself on and he reached the leg barely in time, Blues was already climbing up the treacherous monsters leg. Atelos sighed and began his climb as well. His limbs screamed in pain as he forced himself up the monsters leg.

He reached the soft part of the beasts leg and heard a large blast and saw a red fellow running away from the other side and he knew he was behind. Three swords forced above him and dug into the soft flesh as it yielded to his swords, the flurry of blades left a sizeable wound. The magma blood trickling down as it started to heal. It wasn’t enough...Atelos glanced at his glove as he ignited it and stuck it deep into the monsters wound. The heat of his fire was barely covering enough to stop the magma from completely incinerating his arm. It wasn’t deep enough...Atelos let his rage flow through him and his entire body went aflame and he stuck his arm deep enough to feel the monsters muscle. He tugged onto it with all of his strength, his anger wading and his flames dying down and his skin began to ignite with the magma. He did one last tug and...the muscle gave out and Atelos’ grip loosened as he fell onto the ground with his arm covered in burns.

The monster let out a roar of pain for the first time and fell to the ground attempting to repair it’s wounds before the party could injure it. Atelos tried to get up as his wounds attempted to close but his body was done for now. It was all he could handle and now he needed to rest while the group finished off the beast. His job was done...for now.

[DioBrando]

Dio continues to laugh for a few moments as he realizes that success is actually within reach before he gets up to take a step, his leg giving way as he staggers forward as blood dripped from his forehead and arm, a long gash torn in the jacket and the heart shaped circlet he wore split directly down the middle. His breathing was heavy as he'd take a moment to observe the situation and let his wounds heal, dark reality dawns on him that if he had not used his stand to throw him out of the way at the last moment he would have been cut in half, but even that would not have been enough, if he had not also had the assistance of Whirda he would have been nothing more than a particularly vile smear on the unpaved ground beneath the beast. That he, Dio, had come so close to death terrified him truly and completely. After all, that was merely the lightest of grazes he had received from the monster, and if that light touch had that much power behind it, it was completely possible that any direct hit would reduce even him to a meaty pulp he wasn't sure he could come back from.

Dio grits his teeth and shook off the shock of a near death experience before he'd turn to take stock of what happened while he was recovering. The vampire observes the flow of battle as it unfolds, carefully taking stock of what was going on as he'd formulate a new plan of assault. Kuzan seemed to be doing an admirable job of keeping the lava flows from becoming an issue, and interestingly enough forming new platforms for those who couldn't fly to get at the creature. Alain seems to have vanished into a fissure that Aang followed him into for some god forsaken reason. Then the so called avatar appeared a few moments later, and much to Dio's disgust he was crying. He didn't even need to be told that the man had vanished from Aang's sight at some point and the boy had presumed the mercenary dead. It was enough to make Dio nauseous, hiring the child he knew that the boy was naive. Though to go as far as to weep openly like a bawling baby on the battlefield, that was pure unadulterated weakness that he simply could not tolerate in any way shape or form, though if Dio knew anything it was that the Mercenary was likely still around just no longer interested in destroying the monster. He would swallow the bile he felt building in the back of his throat as he'd note the actions of Whirda, Proto, and Atelos he made an internal note to have him executed for deserting if Alain didn't show up soon. He also made a note to reprimand Aang for wasting time on tears when there was the monster responsible still alive and breathing. He never thought he'd need to tell a prospective do-gooder how to do their jobs, in his time being a hero meant gentlemanly conduct, and a tenacity that these men simply didn't seem to have. He missed Johnathon sometimes. They just didn't make heroes like him anymore.

Though, the battle still raged on in spite of Dio's internal retrospection on better days, and he was rewarded for his tardiness with a gout of boiling magma coming straight for him as Protoman's proto-buster fired off a barrage into the beast's weakened carapace. His stand appearing in a flash Dio would use the power of both their legs to leap away just in time, the curtails of his coat catching fire even so, and he was forced to discard the now charred jacket leaving him wearing little more as he'd turn to glare at the beast for daring to have interrupted his introspection. In his rage, however, his mind calculated a dozen ways in which to hurt this beast, and finally, he had what he believed to be a tactic capable of bringing this beast to it's knees.

As he'd retreat back he would turn to speak to the woman he'd seen produce that clone, the group that they had met apparently having the same idea as he had and returned to the explosive crates as a sort of fall back point. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed their help at this point. Even though his plan was working to a tee they weren't able to get enough explosives in the right place at the right time to get to the sin heart, and as long as that vile mechanism still beat within the monster they weren't going to be taking it down anytime soon. Thus, with a frown and swallowing a considerable amount of pride he would ask her if she had any ideas

The fair haired woman thought intensely for a moment, plans flashing through her mind like lightning strikes, her mind devising a dozen separate stratagems in an instant, unfortunately the challenge before them was simply too difficult and many of them had to be discarded as quickly as they were thought up, but one in particular stood out as the least risky way to finally take that bastard of a beast down "We have but one option if we're going to avoid losing another, it seems like the beast attacks anything that annoys it enough and doesn't seem to look too closely at it's food, it didn't even treat my clone as anything other than another annoyance it tried to bite down on. If we can sneak a considerable amount of explosive inside to where it's not protected by that diamond hard carapace via one of my clones we should be able to blow the beast's entire head apart, and open a channel to the sin heart where we'll destroy it. Be warned though, if this plan doesn't work I will destroy the gate from the other side to trap that monster here."

Dio nodded, turning towards the location they arrived at and running towards what was left of the damage explosives. That they couldn't be used traditionally was true, but when rigged with one of those clones and another thermal detonator the fusion material inside would still explode. He'd rush towards the other crate and grab a fresh detonator from it, Dio reaching down to his belt to remove the belt with the heart shaped clasp in the center, a few well-placed strikes creating loops in the leather for him to attach a ring of thermal detonators, and with that done he'd turn back towards the damaged crate carrying it back towards Whirda in a flash of movement as he'd say "can you take this crate and this belt down the beast's throat? If we manage to detonate from inside the beast I think we'll be able to do enough internal damage to give us a shot at the heart. It won't be a pretty journey, but given the disposable nature of your clones it's our best option."

Whirda can barely hold back the bile she felt creep into the back of her throat at the man's display of molasses thick charisma his voice oozed, the very nature of his words soothing the heart and seeming to intentionally appeal to the way she preferred to be spoken to, carried himself in such a way that his very form seemed to exude a charisma that bordered on the unnatural. She had experience with Dio's type in spades, ones who took note of the tiniest details and applied them in their word play like a surgeon would a scalpel in order to create the responses they desired, the very definition of a manipulative personality. Unfortunately for Whirda however, no matter how much she lamented the fact Dio was unquestionably right here. As it stood with the beast distracted, disabled, and reeling from a combination of attacks that had been paid for in blood they had no choice but to proceed with the only remaining option of damaging it's internals while it was down and using that moment to go in for the killing blow on The Sin Heart that perpetuated the beast's vile existence. That also didn't mean that she had to be happy about this though, and she responded to Dio's attempt at charisma with a harsh edge to her voice. 'Fine, if that's the best option we have, but if this fails don't think I wont seal your undead ass in here so fast it makes your head spin." She said, her ire for Dio leaking through the normal cool exterior she kept up, but Dio paid it no mind. After all, as a man dedicated to the ideals of evil he was quite accustomed to people vowing to kill him and even coming at him with intent to die in the pursuit, how could he possibly be flustered by something as small as a little bit of vitrol from someone who understood his aims?

However, as the best laid plans of mice and men are often wont to do, a factor came up that almost ensured it would go awry. There was Aang, pinned almost dead center between this things eyebrows, a factor that made it readily apparent to Dio and the crew that they couldn't go ahead without sacrificing the young avatar. While others saw a cause of panic and peril however, he saw his chance to cement a pawn in his plans, to create a loyalty so sickeningly complete that it made Dio's stomach turn at the mere thought of it. Though he loathed the idea of letting anyone know the secret power of his stand what he needed more than that secret right now was one simple thing, reliable allies, and now heaven itself had presented this exchanged to him and he had no intentions of letting this ultimate chance pass him by! Adopting a pose, his arms shrugging the yellow jacket he wore half way off, his legs in a wide stance as he'd mimic the heroes of his world, a hand splayed in front of his face as he tried to channel a faux version of that all too virtuous and self righteousness that the men who had dared to hound him often did as he'd say.

'Wait, we cannot move forward as long as Aang is trapped on the beast. You move in behind me and I'll give you the signal to detonate the charges once he's free!"

Aghast that Dio would even consider the value in another's life Whirda merely nods as the leader of that group of strange primes charged towards the beast just as it would cry out, the monster thrashing in agony from the intense power that the Spartan's blows had carried, yet this didn't bode well for Aang as the avatar would shake violently, his body slamming against the diamond hard chitin as the Avatar clung desperately to the spine he had affixed himself to for the sake of distracting the beast, Whirda running beside him as her body would shimmer changing into a series of clones that branched out even as Dio's speed picked up, doubling to out pace even the fastest car from the modern world as he'd charge towards the beast with everything he had, The World Materializing as Dio would leap from building to building, his soul grabbing onto him as he'd leap once more hoisting him like a javelin before letting him fly, the combined momentum hurtling the vampire like a missile with incredible accuracy as Dio would charge his body with stand power, giving his eyes a touch of the keenness they had back on his home world to give him the prowess necessary to undertake this herculean effort. As Dio whizzed by, his movements fluid as he'd tuck in to grab the boy from his position affixed it seemed almost as though it would all go off without a hitch, however in the beast's death throes it lashed out wildly, with a speed and intensity that vastly outstripped even the incredible power it demonstrated before, and just as Whirda would leap forward the beast would open it's maw to roar in agony and defiance of the primes who had dared to wound it so gravely, and as it did so one of those house sized spines raised to come into Dio's way. Unable to fly or alter his trajectory quick enough, Dio slammed into one of the spines that protruded from the monster's snout with enough force that he felt several ribs crack, another thrash as the Beast took the clone down it's throat and Dio felt his collarbone snap like it was balsa wood, just a simple dry crack and he, Dio felt even his bones which had stood the test of time and had survived at the bottom of the ocean for a hundred years crack! Feeling the agony of his snapped bones he knew that he didn't have much of a choice, and he'd will his stand to appear. The World grabbing Aang and flying off to deposit him on a near by building as he'd shout. "ACTIVATE THE DETONATORS."

[PepsiWhirda]

Somehow, impossibly, the tarrasque fell. Primes fled in every direction, scorched and gasping, as its colossal body hit the ground. Whirda caught sight of Blues, ever the noble companion, dragging Atelos clear of the rivers of magma pouring from the beast’s scarred hide. The air shimmered with heat. Buildings splintered like so much kindling as the top heavy tarrasque thrashed and howled its frustration into the night, unable to regain its footing.

For all his saccharine arrogance, Whirda had to credit Dio Brando’s selflessness. The towering man hit the tarrasque’s skull with an audible crunch, his limp body hanging on less out of strength than sheer stubborn resolve. Ten feet below him the magma flowed freely, threatening to devour him the moment he let go.

Flanked by her clone, Whirda strode toward the beast, trying to take in every angle, every variable, of the plan she was now forced to enact. Still a solo fighter by her pragmatic nature, it was a constant struggle to rely on her new allies, to expect anything other than more blundering messes she would be forced to clean up. She hefted the crate of explosives under one arm, the belt of detonators slung over her shoulder. She and her clone skidded to a halt at the edge of the magma pool surrounding the beast, just in time to see Aang carried to safety by Dio Brando’s unusual weapon. Only two factors remained: rescue Dio, and deliver the killing blow. After an entire battle with virtually no responsibility, the fate of the Verse now came to rest on her shoulders.

The tarrasque’s thrashing slowed. Hours of constant bombardment seemed finally to have caught up with it. Whirda cast her gaze across the shimmering sea of magma to see Dio’s grip begin to slip. He shook his head weakly, seeming to slip in and out of consciousness.

Acting fast, Whirda turned to her clone, who regarded her silently. Ignoring the peculiarity of the situation, she began to tap into the thrumming strings of shadow in the air around her. She took hold of her clone like a marionette, manipulating each string to reshape the mass of shadow. When she was done, a gaping hole in its chest exposed a hollow core. She wrenched open the crate and transferred each container of the holy explosive into that core, tossing the thermal detonators inside as well. Sealing the clone shut, she imparted a simple mental command. Stay.

The first part of her plan secured, Whirda conjured a gust of wind that hurled her high over the battlefield. Another gust, then a third, steadied her as she fell into her descent, landing lightly on the bridge of the tarrasque’s snout. The creature seemed not to notice her, the extent of its wounds too great. The “great” Dio Brando still clung to the side of its gargantuan head, muttering gibberish to himself, his arms and face streaked with blood and soot.

Whirda trotted over to Dio and knelt beside him, bringing her face close to his ear. “This is going to hurt,” she said with no small amount of satisfaction, as she conjured another gust of wind. Dio flew free of the perch to which he clung, the force of the wind carrying him far over the magma, where he landed in a heap. If he yet lived, he gave no indication.

Beneath her, the tarrasque snorted. Its beady eye blinked, seeming to regain focus. Mimicking her earlier strategy, Whirda dropped to a knee and slid the rest of the way past the creature’s flaring nostrils to rest, her legs dangling in open air, in front of its yawning maw. Its tongue lolled out of its head as Whirda dropped on top of it. A wave of hot, putrid breath greeted her, bringing bile surging up her throat. She retched and spit, taking a tentative step toward a row of teeth even taller than her.

Only then did the beast respond. The roar began as a tremor, a low, primal noise rising from the back of its throat. The tarrasque shook its head vigorously, trying to dislodge her. Whirda stumbled, desperate to regain her footing as the great tongue began to roll beneath her, like a sticky carpet pulled from under her feet. She pitched forward, her arms wheeling, her balance completely lost. She spun until she was staring into the inky abyss of the tarrasque’s throat, just as she slammed against the row of five-foot-tall fangs.

Agony wracked her body as two of the fangs sunk deep into her back, piercing armor and flesh, scraping against bone, wreaking who knew how much havoc. Whirda screamed, writhing and twisting to get herself free, but she couldn’t move. This time she couldn’t hold the vomit back, the sticky stuff pouring free to coat the front of her armor. She twisted her neck wildly, desperately, the plan still a dim flicker in the back of her mind. There! Her clone waited across the battlefield, staring impassively into space.

With what remained of her strength, Whirda wrenched herself free, blood pouring from the gaping wounds in her back. Keeping the image of her clone in the forefront of her mind, she did the unthinkable. She dove headlong down the tarrasque’s throat, the darkness rising to meet her.

*****

When she reappeared, Whirda stood in the exact place her clone had been waiting. The swap had worked. She collapsed to her knees, her vision going dark. If this was the end of her, she could at least take the gods-damned tarrasque with her.

All that remained was to detonate the explosives – and she knew just the Prime she could trust. Her flickering vision focused on the approaching silhouettes of Blues and Atelos. Blues let Atelos slide to the ground as he rushed to her side, mouthing words she couldn’t hear.

“Explosives… down its throat. Need… something to set it off,” she breathed, the words emerging in a barely audible whisper. “It’s up to you, kid.” She smiled, revealing teeth stained with blood. Coughing wracked her body as she fell to her chest in the dirt. The wounds weren’t fatal; she could already feel them stitching and healing as the contagion did its foul, regenerative work. All she needed now was a nice, long sleep.

[Proto Man]

It took him all of eight seconds to process what the woman had said, line up his shot, and build the charge. As the barrel of the Proto Buster shook violently, the Prototype Robot Master watched silently as the Tarrasque tried to lift itself up from the ruined landscape. It made it up to just one leg before it faltered. The monster’s eyes remained focused on the collection of primes as it opened its mouth to release a final defiant scream at those who had brought it so low.

“Finish Buster!”

Proto Man’s knees gave out as the hyper-concentrated beam exploded outward—its size quadrupling just beats after the energy escaped the confines of his arm cannon. The massive beam blazed through the air for just a few fleeting seconds before finding its mark. Unlike the other times, the initial impact lack that satisfying effect as the beam vanished down into the Tarrasque’s gullet, but after just a moment, it triggered the explosives sliding down its esophagus.

The result was instant.

A mighty shockwave hurled the hapless collection of fighters from their feet as the string of explosives blew apart the inside of the monster’s massive, gaping maw. The blasts tore through its flesh—armored or otherwise, and for the first time in the entire battle, it genuinely sounded like they’d injured the giant force of nature.

Scrambling quickly to his feet, Proto Man watched as the mutilated monster lifted one of its legs and tried to take a step toward the group. Even through it all, the creature refused to go down for the count. With the blood pooling down from the string of wide-open wounds on its neck and chest, and with its jaw hanging limply by one side of its face, the Tarrasque wasn’t going to get anywhere. As the collection of warriors looked on, their opponent shuddered. The only leg still serving to hold it up buckled beneath its massive, bloody body, and like that, the once mighty monster tilted and crashed to the ground once more.

Only this time, the impact served to set off a chain reaction that caused the collection of tunnels that crisscrossed under the area to collapse. Rather than just settling into a pool of its own spreading blood, the ground beneath the Tarrasque fell away, and it seemed as if the Pale Moors itself was swallowing the colossal creature.

As the collection of primes looked on, the creature’s eyes found them once more as the ground continued to collapse. Was that sadness they saw in beady black orbs? Or were some of them feeling a degree of pity as the creature vanished into the abyss.

Whatever they may have felt, their thoughts were quickly redirected as the orb of swirling colors found its way up out of the Tarrasque’s ruined body and came rocketing toward them. None of the primes tried to flee, and even if they would have, there wouldn’t have been enough time before the sphere consumed all of them. As it approached, Proto Man simply held up a forearm in the event that it exploded in their faces.

When no such blasts were forthcoming, the Prototype Robot Master lowered his arm and glanced at their surroundings. From the look of things, they were somewhere that was almost the Pale Moors but not quite. The sky seemed a little dimmer, and the earth was a few shades too red, despite looking exactly the same otherwise. What had once been the village was gone, with nothing to serve as an indication that it had ever existed at all.

Proto Man glanced around and saw that some of the other fighters were there, but almost all of them were looking over at the only landmark in sight—a short stone pedestal that housed a swirling ball of omnilium.

As per Sarah Kerrigan's approval, the Tarrasque is defeated. It was her idea to have all the primes involved shifted to elsewhere to settle any difference about the artefact. I also believe that she'll probably give people damage points as well, from the monster fight.

[PepsiWhirda]

Whirda pushed herself to her knees with black-veined arms, and climbed shakily to her feet. She convulsed as the contagion churned within her, beginning the arduous process of repairing the muscles and tendons damaged by the tarrasque’s fangs. Relief would be a long time in coming, but at least she could stand. She rotated her shoulder-blades and winced as pain blossomed anew. Fresh blood leaked from her wounds to further soak her undershirt.

“What in the hells…” she managed, surveying the changed landscape. All signs of their battle had vanished. The corpse of the tarrasque, the magma-charred remains of the village, everything, gone. All that remained of the moors was the ashen sky, and the ground, now the reddish-brown of copper, underfoot.

Whirda took a hesitant step toward Blues and followed his gaze past their battered allies. A pedestal of rough-hewn stone jutted unceremoniously from the dirt about twenty yards away. Hovering above it, a varicolored globe of omnilium danced and wriggled as if eager to burst loose and drift away.

The preteen machine echoed her confusion. “No idea,” he muttered. “But this can’t be good.”

Atelos limped into view beside them, affixing his dented helm over his brow. A telling move, Whirda thought, that he chose to position himself next to her and Blues, instead of the ragtag allies with whom he’d arrived. Something about the situation made her uneasy, the feeling only growing as Dio Brando stirred.

The mercenary and the ice man rushed to his side, dropping to their knees. They conferred in hushed tones as their de facto leader dragged himself to a standing position. If possible, he looked worse off than the trio of primes watching them from a short distance away, and yet, when he turned, he made his best approximation of a hero’s pose, one arm akimbo, the other raised to brush his nose with his thumb. A storm of pain and anger coursed behind his eyes, but the expression melted into curiosity—and was that a hint of eagerness, even greed?—at the sight of the raw omnilium before him.

“If this gets sticky, you guys have my back?” Whirda whispered, taking advantage of Dio’s distraction.

Blues nodded mutely, watching the scene from behind his cracked visor. The preteen machine was battered and bruised, but no stranger to the nuances of situations like this—and, it seemed, no less cautious than the pragmatic Whirda. She found she had come to trust the kid, even value him as something of a friend after the many battles they had shared.

“My dear Whirda!” Dio’s voice drifted across the field, jolting her from her reverie. “So good to see you survived.” If he was lying, he showed no outward signs. Whether an expert liar or a saccharine-sweet, pompous, but ultimately genuine character, Whirda had yet to decide.

“Hell of a stunt we pulled,” Whirda had to admit. “What do you suppose all this is?” She gestured to the pedestal and the mysterious orb.

“I am not inclined to speculate,” Dio replied, wincing with each word. The extent of his wounds showed in his body language if not his rhetoric. “A trap, perhaps, designed to lure us to our fate? As the leader of this party,” he continued, somehow seeming to cast Whirda and Blues under his tenuous command, “I would be remiss if I did not investigate personally—and suffer any potential consequences, of course.” He bared his teeth in a humorless, blood-stained grin.

“No,” Whirda and Blues said in unison.

Dio arched an eyebrow, seeming amused by their dissent, but allowed them to continue.

Whirda shared a look with the preteen machine, who dipped his head in a slight nod. His permission granted, she said what they were both thinking. “You do not lead us. We wish to discuss this further before any action is taken.” Her skin veritably crawled with suspicion as Dio’s stare flitted between them and the pedestal.

“Very well then,” he said finally, gesturing that she should continue, “discuss.”

[DioBrando]

He couldn't believe how stupid the people were around him, how could they seriously believe that the core of the sin heart would be a trap?! Dio felt bile rise the back of his throat before he even spoke, he couldn't believe that he was surrounded by people who would believe such a piss poor excuse for a rationalization let alone that it had worked on these people who likely considered themselves perceptive. Dio shook his head at the mere thought of it all, what kind of awful logic was it that the relic that made up the core of the Tarrasque would make up some kind of trap, wouldn't that have simply been a waste of the entire room that was set up in it's core? The engineers that designed this beast were none other than the most intelligent and powerful architects that in all the realms that comprised the Under Verse, how could they possibly take such care and pay such a high cost for something they intended to have blow up in the end when the original plan was to have one of hell's greatest generals leading their armies from within the beast? Not even the architects of hell were so spiteful and mindless that they'd take a beast that was supposed to function as a command center for one of their most treasured strategists and include a trap at it's core that persisted long after the beasts own death. What they were looking at was far from a trap, in fact, it could only be called a blessing that Dio had disguised with a simple lie. What they were looking at was none other than an artifact comprised of the purest omnilium, raw, unshaped, and likely dangerous to any non primes that touched it but for primes such as those assembled here it was more valuable than gold. However to Dio, who knew that in order to kill Dracula he would need a weapon of such pure omnilium that even Dracula's own incredibly pure essence wouldn't be able to overwhelm it, it was more valuable than even his own life. After all, he was a prime, and Omni himself had said that as long as Dio kept things interesting that he would be allowed to return to life, and Dio believed that with the scope of his plans and ambitions even that bastard up in the sky would definitely be willing to allow him to come back as many times as he needed to. Thus, there had never been any fear of death or pain in his mind as he made his plans, and the injuries he suffered from now were viewed as nothing more than temporary set backs, with that said however, they were set backs he could not afford to keep around for the culmination of his plan.

Thus, his mind races as he concocts his plan while he channels omnilium through his body, burning through his reserves of energy to recover at least a little in case anyone of these curs decided that they'd be better off with the artifact than he would, bones snapping and his arm twisting back into place like Dio was some kind of macabre action figure, blood being reabsorbed into his body and his collar bone mending itself allowing him to stand up straight. However, he didn't want to leave himself without the energy to time stop at least once more in any potential excursions, so his bruises and external injuries were going to be left where they were for now, the dull aches and the searing pain of his remaining cuts and bruises being pushed to the back of his mind with nothing more than a herculean display of willpower.

He wasn't idle as this happened however, and with a look towards the group he considered to be on his side he'd walk towards them, and for an instant of slow timed Dio would whisper to Alain as he passed him, a small smirk on his face. The whisper, barely even audible from the distance that it was spoken to Alain carrying a deep, powerful, and profound Charisma that Dio had yet to unveil. It brimmed with a ambition, power, and clarity that resonated with what Dio believed to be the aspirations of every mercenary. As for what was said in that instant of the pair passing, none could say as to an outsider it would have simply been said all at once, a garbled mix of words that would have come across as either some private code language or simple gibberish. However this was hidden in a seemingly natural motion that Dio took great pains to ensure seemed completely natural, so he'd gesture towards each of the remaining members as he passed to draw their attention to him, and then Dio began to address his group.

"Everyone, I want to thank you for the work you've done so far. You have displayed bravery, dedication, and stood staunch in the face of darkness that many fled in terror from. By killing this beast today you've done a great service that I, Dio, can never hope to pay back. You have allowed The Pale Moors to continue existing where others would have sealed it off, dooming it to a slow death. Fought where others would have ran before even trying to face such a terrible monster, and in the process displayed loyalty that even I, Dio, have never know my entire life. Thus, those of you gathered here who have worked for me today will be rewarded to the highest of my ability. In the future, when I carve out my section of the pale moors in my crusade against Dracula, and further down the road when I finally end his terrible reign, each of you will be granted a dukedom. A section of territory that you will be allowed to overview and that I promise will have no shortage of mineral wealth or established industry. I, Dio, will also be listing you as equals when I make the announcement that the beast was slain and the crisis was averted."

He would say, bowing with a flourish towards his own group, a nefarious scheme already concocted within his mind. By doing this he would encourage those who had fought with him to take his side in the upcoming struggle if the others could identify that this was an artifact, and if not, then he would have done everything within his power to ensure that these men would continue acting as his pawns in the future, this coupled with his action of saving Aang rather than securing glory for himself earlier he had at the very least cemented a decent reputation in the minds of those who had witnessed that act. However, there was still the task left of actually obtaining the artifact, something that Dio absolutely needed if he was going to be the one to take down that bastard in his castle. He would then take a few moments to think on what was going on here, after all he still had absolutely no faith that Atelos would trust him any farther than he could throw him, and even though he had some understanding of what had gone on in the fight and that at least some people had seen his rescue of Aang he doubted that the other party would concede a single inch regarding any potential treasure, thus, Dio knew that he had to end this quick as to prevent them from learning that the omnilium on the pedestal wasn't some kind of time bomb, and with that all too familiar charismatic aura enveloping him he spoke up once more to say.

"With that said however, given that there seems to be no physical sign remaining of the beast I suppose the best thing to do would be to find a way to safely disarm this core here, and bring it back as our proof of the kill. So to speak. The village was abandoned, as was the entire surrounding area so we don't have any impartial witnesses to spread the word, and unfortunately given the competing nature of the factions of some involved here I doubt that we would be able to convince everyone that the task was completed by us without it."

He said, doing his best to seem jovial about the whole matter, but in his heart was harbored a dark curiosity. He had read that there was an artifact within the core of the sin heart, an unrefined chunk of extremely pure omnilium, but unfortunately for him even that had just been raw speculation, and what it did was as shrouded in mystery as every gods damned other thing about the internals of the beast.

Then, in the next act of Dio's performance he would suddenly perk up, as if only just now noticing something as he'd turn to Whirda and Proto to say.

"Of well of course, the good people who we found here need to also be included in this. After all, why can't we be friends with such great heroes? In fact, in light of their valor today I think it would only be be appropriate to list them as a second hunting party who assisted in the kill when we make the official announcement. Though of course, I hope you understand that given the faction alignment of Atelos that he likely wont be welcome at the party. Nothing against you, Darkshire guards just tend to make my traditional guests uncomfortable."

He says, trying his best to seem jovial, to divert attention from the artifact being there at all, to make this seem more like the celebration of a monster that has finally been purged from the land. Which, in all senses but the one Dio cared most about, it was. The best lies did hold at least a grain of truth, and Dio knew well that it would likely be incredibly easy to disarm the situation if he played his cards right, that was unless anyone decided to become psychotic and go on a rampage. Ah, how he missed rampages. The feel of blood dripping down his hands, the screams of the weak and ignorant as they fled from the presence of their new God. He made a note to make some me time after this, carve out someone's heart, set some things on fire, kill some of this lands approximation to nobility, really get back to his roots. He had let that get away from him in his quest to really take down the head of this verse and make it his own, so much so that he had completely forgotten his foundations, the very reason he had wanted to rule in the first place after all is so that he could demonstrate his natural superiority. Though Dio supposed that this had not all been wasted time, at least this way there would be some veneration for the man who killed the aberration that had been a scourge of the land for going on years now, that would definitely earn him some respect from the nobility even if they didn't exactly care for him to start with. An odd look of nostalgia would come over Dio's face as he'd remember better days, and then he'd turn once more to his group to say.

"Now with this said, I think it's time that we stop loitering here and get back to work. After all, we do still have to secure confirmation of the kill and report it so that we can earn the fame and glory that befits us as the killers of this terrible monster. Now, given I'm the only member of our party who has any form of regeneration, and as such my chances of surviving any prospective booby traps are highest, I'll be heading forward first. You two are welcome to send your own man forward as well if you doubt my noble intentions, otherwise, I'm heading forward with or without your permission. Because with no offense intended, you have no authority over me or my men, nor do you have the right to even try. Though, if you're looking for a trophy yourself than I'll be happy to include your name on the plaque we put this on as the leader of the second party."

He'd say a dry smirk on his face as he'd turn and start walking towards the orb. Like he was going to follow their orders anymore than they would follow his. If they thought to impose some authority on him of all people then he would die before bending knee to someone who at best could be considered on his level. After all the two of them would have never defeated this beast alone, and to say that it was anything other than some sick joke that they could impose their authority here as what amounted to the minority then he had no choice but to remind them of the fact that they ultimately held less authority here than he did. Who did they think they were that they actually tried to order around he, Dio, with nothing more than a gesture and a look? People called him arrogant but expect obedience from the leader of a larger group without so much as giving him a little respect for his position, and expecting him to take it lying down in front of his men? That was simply too much, it wasn't like any of them ranked higher than he did here after all, and he had no reason to respect them more than any other prime here, and given the obvious enmity between their factions no one could possibly blame him for disregarding the orders of someone he barely knew and had no reason to continue working with.

However, Dio had prepared for this moment, stowed away within a sleeve was prepared a metallic bracer he had materialized out of a material similar in appearance to the Tarrasque's own hide. He had expected something a bit more direct in correlation to the beast's own nature when he had read of the artifact contained within it's core, but if his theory was correct about the raw omnlium here functioning as any other omnilium would, just many thousands of times purer, then he would be able to make it look similar enough to his original design that with a simple use of sleight of hand he'd be able to swap them in the stopped time without anyone being the wiser. He just needed to get there first, and with his grand performance back there he doubted anyone would dare to snub a man simply looking for the trophy of his kill, let alone as outnumbered as any of the other groups here were.

[Atelos]

Atelos glared at Dio for his abrasiveness at the man. How dare he judge Atelos for serving Darkshire, when he himself was a servant at Dracula. The sight of the mark on the man’s neck infuriated the man as he glanced at Blues and the woman who had not managed to catch her name. The two looked like shit, their injuries major and their spirits almost crushed. Like Atelos they had withstood much pain of the battle and maybe even worse. He has survived though despite the odds. A Spartan against a demonic beast, he felt proud of his accomplishment. The dawning realization came to him...that he could not have completed this without the God of Death...

He looked at the two again and noticed that the two were glaring at the vampire as he was walking towards the orb that stood on the podium. Atelos’ vision turned red and narrowed in on the orb. All else went to black and his sole existence was on that orb in front of him. In his eyes the orb dilated and glowed a bright white before turning red like the ground before him.

A laugh flew by inside his mind and the dawning realization of what was happening struck upon him as his heart shrunk in terror. A piercing screech overcame his ears and Atelos grunted in pain as he was forced to his knees. He rushed his hands to his ears to help dull out the pain but it just made it louder. He looked towards the orb and the piercing scream got louder and louder and louder as he shouted in pain with the rest of the party looking at him. He felt blood trickle down his ears and he coughed up blood. His eyes felt as if they were bulging out of their sockets and he felt as if centipedes were crawling and moving underneath his skin. His vision began to fade into darkness and he turned his head to the two next to him.

“Please kill me. While I’m still me.” Blood began to trail down his eyes as a look of sheer terror was on his face. The world began to pull back from him until it seemed a wall of glass came between him and his vision. A white cloud of smoke appeared over the glass and Atelos went to wipe the blood off his eyes.

Nothing. Nothing happened. Atelos couldn’t move. He. Was. Trapped. Confined. Alone...Behind a glass wall inside his mind and he could do nothing. Not even scream.

---------

Hades sat on his golden throne bored. Nothing was going on that the beast was dead. The man named Dio was bothersome as usual, Blues, the woman and the others. Boring. The lot of them. Even Atelos was being boring this instant...his futile emotions and plans were so...dull. The vision in front of him was the same old boring show. A white orb flew past the Spartan’s vision and Hades felt a reverb in his heart. The same emotion he felt while holding the Maw...oh the Maw. The power he held in his hands. That object must be important. The god snickered as he relished in the fact that more power would be his, especially after he found the sorcerer. Oh how sweet power tastes. The god had to have the orb...so he wouldn’t waste time. It also sounded like something fun to do while he was bored gaining power.

He felt stronger, he felt his power surging through him and he knew he could do it. He felt Atelos’ soul in his hand, the chord, the mental piece that made this warrior tick and move and with a smile, he yanked it. He easily slipped into the meat suit as the Spartan took another turn to spectate. He felt the blood on his face, the air on his skin, and the injuries he had sustained as he saw the group of warriors stare at him. Except for Dio. Dio was still going for the orb. Hades stood up and couldn’t help but have a seizure of laughter as the group looked at the insane Spartan who had just instantly change tunes.

Hades bursted over to Dio and stopped right in front on the vampire. Dio looked shocked at the Spartan, whose bloody smile and white, cloudy eyes stood, slouching before the group. His shield lackadaisically on the side as Dio tried to push the Spartan aside.

“Move over Spartan, Forgive my rudeness but I believe I should have the honor of receiving this prize.”

Hades stood firm and couldn’t help but give his cruel smile as he stared down the large man. “Now now, that wouldn’t be any fun. He laughed cruelly as his body ignited on fire and the group of people began to unsheathe their weapons at the face of the newfound demon.

[PepsiWhirda]

Whirda’s dagger leapt into her hand. In the span of a heartbeat, as drastic as their trip into this unusual realm, the tension had shifted to outright hostility. For all the teamwork involved in felling the primordial beast just minutes earlier, it seemed the prospect of a tangible prize prevailed over their tenuous alliance.

“You and me, kid?” Whirda murmured.

The preteen machine offered something between a frown and a smirk. “Let’s do this.”

Whirda couldn’t tell who struck first. Dio Brando lunged, his mild expression melting into a snarl. The Spartan warrior, wreathed in flame, merely chuckled as three swords blinked into existence above him and moved to intercept.

Dio ducked beneath the first sword, a thin coating of ice hardening around his right arm. He used this improvised gauntlet to bat the second of the Spartan’s swords aside. Dio bullied forward, lowering his shoulder in an attempt to overtake Atelos with sheer strength, but the warrior’s shield stopped him short, the pair growling as they broke apart.

“The World, defend!” Dio cried. His unusual weapon materialized in the path of the Spartan’s third sword, a moment before it would have hewn through his unprotected shoulder. The sword screeched along its length and flew wide, Dio scrambling backward to reassess, a newfound respect for the warrior’s prowess apparent in his eyes.

Transfixed by the display, Blues finally entered the fray. His arm cannon hummed to life as he charged, seeming comically small compared to the clashing titans, but Whirda knew better. Dio and the Spartan were formidable, that much was clear, but she had seen the preteen machine in action, and knew his appearance only belied his immense power.

The mercenary in red blurred for a moment as he slipped into invisibility, taking advantage of the distraction, and Whirda followed suit. The shadows gathered around her, rendering her invisible to the more forward-minded trio brawling at the foot of the pedestal. The orb of raw omnilium hovered above it, indifferent to the furious melee nearby.

Unfamiliar with the raw building blocks of the Omniverse, Whirda nevertheless recognized its importance. She would aid Blues any way she could, but if it came to blows between them, she would make it hers. Anything that could help her decipher the nature of the contagion superseded her fragile friendship with the preteen machine.

Whirda skirted along the outside of the battle, waiting for her chance to strike. As she moved, she manipulated the thrumming leylines of shadow in the air around her. Behind the functional camouflage she had formed around herself, a second Whirda, identical in every way, began to form, the shadow stretching and writhing to imitate her slender figure, her platinum white hair, even the pockmarks and gouges in her armor. She imparted a simple command: get between them.

Blues joined the fray, offering a volley of energy bolts from his arm cannon. The Spartan dropped to a knee behind his shield. The bolts met the barrier, driving the warrior back, a cloud of dust rising around him.

“Now this is fun,” Atelos laughed, rising to his feet as Dio Brando sprinted in from the side impossibly quickly, leaping straight at the unprepared warrior, his immense frame stretched horizontally. He slammed into the Spartan, ignoring the rippling flame, wrapping his arms around the warrior’s torso. The two collapsed in a blur of fists and feet.

Blues caught sight of Whirda’s clone and wisely kept his distance, seeming confused by her straightforward approach. He quickly realized the nature of the attack, his lips curling into a grin. From her point of concealment a dozen yards away, Whirda matched the preteen machine’s expression.

The clone paused between Dio and the Spartan as they rose from their scuffle, each breathing hard and snarling, their primal combat instincts overriding any shred of humanity left within them. Still, they each managed to quirk an eyebrow and frown as Whirda unleashed the second half of her attack, imparting a second command to her clone: detonate.

[DioBrando]

He would meet Hades with a clash of fists against steel, a hard knock from the spartan's elbow sending a spray of crimson from the vampire's nose. The god taking a moment to rub his elbow from side to side in Dio's face, laughing at the vampire as he did so. The mockery allows Dio to focus his vision through iron will even as it blurred from pain to return fire with a hail of attacks from his stand and himself, The World being on the opposite side of The God of the Underworld as they would do their best to lock him in place, the hail of buster fire and the Spartan's own attacks pushed the him back as The Preteen Machine came. Dodging and weaving through the attacks he'd push towards the Spartan, each step a dance between life and death where a single wrong move could end his life in an instant. He reached the spartan with a leaping attack, his stand appearing on the opposite side of the spartan to unleash a hail of blows with him as he finally closed the gap between The Possessed Spartan and his swords parrying each blow of Dio's that connected the collision releasing an explosion that exploded with a sound like a gunshot as his punches broke the sound barrier, each blow that connected leaving a small layer of frost on impact where it touched, and each time The World landed a blow time itself would rupture around The Spartan.

Then in a flash of movement, Whirda decided it was time to intervene, her clone sent out to break up the pair, and upon seeing the clone appear between them Dio's stand The World is ordered to break off the combat and throws Dio, the stand vanishing once it completed it's command. Dio catching himself for just a moment before the shock wave would knock him back down. Standing as he'd summon his stand. He knew that if he continued using this brash and straightforward approach he'd find himself the target of Whirda and Proto after Atelos fell. He was desperately in need of a new approach, and thus he thought for a moment on what his approach should be. A flash of insight bringing an idea to mind, Dio crossing his arms as he'd adopt an almost leisurely stance, Dio finding a way in spite of his injuries, in spite of the obvious exhaustion that wracked his body with pangs and lagged his movements, to come off as a man who not only looked down on his opponent, but also didn't even consider him worth fighting himself. His cape fluttering in the wind kicked up by the explosion as his Stand would meet Atelos in combat, answering the call of battle with a rain of blows. Each strike came so fast and strong that it's fists blurred with the last strike. Each fist becomes a thousand images of a fist as a cry of "MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA!" comes from the stand's creator. Yet, hidden within each fist was a force far more sinister than a regular blow, a strange effect happening as each punch that would connect, small cracks in reality filled with rainbow light appearing around the impact centers of The World's attacks. Each a time a blow came, those three blades flashed, the burning swords parrying blow after blow in spite of it all, it seemed as though the ultra hard alloy the blades were made of were capable of weathering this storm. Dio scowled, he knew that he had to rally the remaining primes to his side, thus he left the battle to his stand for a few seconds, turning to the others to speak.

"It seems you've finally revealed yourself! I knew something was up from the moment you magically appeared in the middle of the manor just as we happened to be leaving. You were really too obvious you know, attempting to undermine my leadership and sow dissent among my men from the start is a trademark of agents of the Underverse. Now that you've revealed yourself and your objective I know I cannot let Hell have something it wants. Thus today it will be a cold and merciless Dio that rids the world of your menace."

Dio said, adopting a pose, leaning back to an inhuman degree his arms held at a bent angle with his palms outwards, fingers arched as if grasping something. The vampire unleashing a cry of "WRRRRRY!"