The Battle of Death Mountain: Staging

[Albert Wesker]

He was met with the now familiar up-ending of his sense of direction as he passed through the portal from the Nexus to the hellish landscape of the Steppes, and a veritable wall of heat and ash struck him full in his grimacing face. A single wheeze as he quickly forced himself to acclimate to the new environs was all that passed him, and he was right on his way again, the infrequent, loping movements of the massive hulk of powered armor proving its worth on the rocky, uneven terrain.

Bounding from one precarious ledge to a patch of sliding gravel, sailing over a pool of molten rock, and barging through sulfurous clouds, the virtual soldier charged straight-on toward his destination. Along the way, he had Cricket pull up and relate to him the particulars that Nealaphh had outlined in its plans for this event in more detail. His expression remained neutral as he took in the plan of action and pieced together what it was all about in his head.

"It all points toward being a very energetic experience, if nothing else. And likely quite violent, to boot! There is every possibility you will end up gravely damaged, or even destroyed again as a result of this," his helper program pointed out to him.

"I'm aware." His own response was short and almost curt. "Just means more caution and proper strategy will be required."

"Quite so, sir. Shall I draw up possible plans for your own movements, then?"

"No. Wait until we see who else we'll be working with. Plan things out with their strengths and weaknesses in mind."

"Ah, yes. Of course. Making plans without taking such things into account would be unwise indeed, I suppose."

"Yes. It would." The stark contrast between Colonel's iron-hard, no-nonsense demeanor and the professional, yet almost bubbly and easygoing nature of Cricket was not lost on the soldier program. Usually he'd seen that a Navi and their operator were similar, at least on some level, back home...but then again, there had never been a Navi operated by another Navi, to his knowledge. The situation wasn't exactly typical.

"Diagnostics indicate Death Mountain lies slightly due west from our current course, sir. All this ash and treacherous footing has caused us to veer slightly off our projected path."

"Correcting course."

It was just one of the many minor reasons that he was glad the little helper program was present, despite the clashing of personality. He was very detail-oriented when it counted. The minor change in course heading would have only cost a few minutes at most, but spotting it early enough and keeping on constant alert for deviations like he was, Cricket kept those few minutes from being wasted on the avoidable frivolity of being lost. And that was always a plus.

It was an uneventful journey across the unwelcoming landscape, marked only by the occasional correction of course by Cricket, or the navi voicing some curiosity or other it noticed in their surroundings, or on the dataverse.

Within the span of mere hours, Death Mountain loomed largely in the immediate distance, and only a short few minutes later, the hulking powered suit crashed down at the base of a narrow, winding path, leading up to what looked to be a war camp of sorts. A series of bounding leaps and jet-assisted leaps and hops carried it up the rocky mountainside, leaping alongside of, and occasionally over, the pathway, finally coming to a halt at the edges of the makeshift war camp, letting out a long hiss of pressurized air as it powered down, venting excess heat and air as it settled down, losing nearly a foot of height as it buckled, the cockpit opening to admit Colonel to emerge, stepping down onto the ash-covered rock of the mountain.

A faint grinding of servos and gears sounded behind him as the cockpit sealed itself once more. "Locked and secured, sir, and ready for future transport away from here, if necessary!" Cricket announced cheerfully as it jumped back into the PET hanging at his belt. "Affirmative."

It didn't take him long to scour the area, exchanging a few brief words with a goron he passed to point him in the right direction. He strode up to an unexpectedly large gathering of what he could only assume to be Primes. He recognized only one among their number -- the woman, Miranda Frost. He waited silently for the immediate conversation to be finished, Frost announcing the arrival and intent of her and her group to assist in the operation at hand, before Colonel spoke up himself. "Headmaster Nealaphh. My apologies for the delay in my arrival. Colonel.EXE, reporting for duty."

[Tearen Wover]

Nealaphh stood silently by as the other three Primes in its presence mingled and got to know one another. It had suspected there might be some friction between Tom and Harry Dresden, but it seemed as though both wizards were willing to be civil for now. It was not entirely surprising; based on its knowledge of both men, the God-Mind had been rather certain that both took great pride in being reasonable souls in the madness of the Omniverse. As for Connor Hound...the mercenary continued to genuinely surprise the Enigma. Nealaphh had, heretofore, only known the mercenary to be a practitioner of military and martial arts, but with the recent inquiry regarding the folding of space, as well as the envelope of energy surrounding his firearms, it seemed there was quite a bit about the man that Nealaphh may have never guessed at. Normally this may have been concerning, but unlike Tom Riddle, Nealaphh had no concerns for betrayal from Connor; the man was true to his word as long as the shadow held up its end of the bargain.

Several new minds pinged at the edges of Nealaphh's awareness, and the God-Mind looked up to see four figures approaching from up the cracked, ebon slope. Three of them were expected; Thor, Revan, and Red Hood. It didn't take long to figure out who was who simply on visual aesthetics alone. Nealaphh had known an incarnation of the God of Thunder in its previous Multiverse, and the markers were largely the same. The psychic medium around the Asgardian's mind swirled with brash confidence and self-respect. Such a stalwart asset would be invaluable for facing down Volvagia itself. Red Hood's sharp, ricocheting thought patterns mirrored the same sort of hyper-attentive analysis that Connor Hound projected, but there was something more to this man. A faint bitterness tainted the few emotions that struggled free from the consternation of his psyche. A dark past, but nothing that Nealaphh could easily glean from such a cursory scan.

Revan, similar to Harry and Tom, had a rather sophisticated series of mental bastions in place to prevent the kind of casual snooping that Nealaphh was attempting. Her predatory eyes flicked up and met Nealaphh's brazenly as the God-Mind tried to prod at her thoughts. Nealaphh simply blinked slowly and brought its attention to the fourth member of their party...the unexpected one.

...and how unexpected indeed. Miranda Frost, of all people, walked with them. She announced their arrival with the kind of confidence that Nealaphh had gleaned based on reports that Drake had passed along to its notice. She would be an excellent ally, but there was a more pressing concern; how was she even here? Drake had told Nealaphh that the Prime brawler had burst into a shimmering cloud in the same way that the Panda automaton had. By everything that Nealaphh had deduced, that meant she had been deleted from the Omniverse outright, yet, here she was. This brought a slew of questions that were very troubling in nature. The Enigma slipped a covert message to Tom with a telepathic whisper.

The white haired female...reports indicated she had disappeared in the same manner as the construct in the Nexus. This presents a conundrum. Keep an eye on her.

Seeing as many of these Primes had never contacted Nealaphh before, and therefore might be startled by its telepathic communication, the God-Mind summoned Klee and Shen to its side to speak on its behalf. The hovering, shimmering black prisms spoke in unison as Nealaphh used their voices directly through their mental link.

"Greetings Red Hood, Thor, Revan, and Miranda. My deepest thanks for deigning to assist me." the Aspects said in their resonant, chiming voices.

"A promise of glory beckons the presence of any true Son of Asgard. I am Thor, God of Thunder, and these are my compatriots." Thor said in his booming brassado. Nealaphh offered a curt bow, something Tom had never seen the Enigma do before, before responding in proxy with its Aspects.

"A promise that shall not be broken, Odinson-" Nealaphh said, pausing mid-sentence as Colonel arrived in a mechanized exo-skeleton. The Headmaster nodded towards the Navi in due respect and waited for the digital construct to join Nealaphh at the God-Mind's side before continuing.

"We now await the arrival of just a few more worthy souls. As you know, I am Nealaphh. This is Tom Riddle, Harry Dresden, Connor Hound, and Colonel. I was just reviewing the plan with them. Have you any questions?" Nealaphh crooned, the soft, tinkling voices of its Aspects adding an even thicker layer of tranquility to the already serene manner of Nealaphh's speech.

[The Rogue]

Connor shakes Harry’s and Tom’s hand,

“So Mr.Riddle, and Mr., as I’m guessing from the coat and stick, Dresden? Seriously, magic? Or are you two pretending? Is there actually magic in this world? Like D and D wizards? Ooooooh!”,

Connor shakes his hands in the air sarcastically.

“Or do you have some nice tech that makes it seem like magic? What do y'all have?”

They stand there in shock as it now dawns on them that Connor has no clue about his potential.

“Don't you-”, Harry began to say, then some woman naming herself as Frost walks in and gives her explanation. Connor waves and begins to say something, but another person shows up. A man in black and white armor with gold accents arrives and apologizes for being late. Connor frowns at the strangeness of the man's self title, Colonel.exe. He is puzzled by this, as to why would someone include a computer file type in their name?

He shrugs this off and gives attention to the rest of Frost’s party. Thor, like the Norse God of Thunder, Connor rolls his eyes, Darth Reavan, probably someone just trying to be a Sith from Star Wars, and Red Hood, like the DC character, Connor chuckles to himself at all of this, for it's just plain old silly to him.

“Salvete, Frost and company,”

Connor barely gets to say this as the two strange prisms start talk for Nealapph. Connor silently questions this, but will ask later. Once the Eldritch being stops talking, Connor looks over to Harry so he can resume his conversation.

[Okor]

Powdered black sand shifted beneath the slayer’s feet, the sulphurous atmosphere competing with his own aura of entropy for the dubious honour of being the most unpleasant odour in the region. There was no life to be found here, every step serving only to provide a new vista of death upon the horizon. He had borne witness to entire worlds being ushered to such a fate, their crust shattering as innumerable millennia of science pried their tectonic plates apart, bearing their molten core to the void. How many planets had burned by their own masters’ hands, simply to deny them the truth of Chaos?

Trillions had been atomized, still shackled to lies.

Fine grains of ebon glass passed through newly-grown fingers, trickling down to the ashen steppes of this realm. He drew in a rattling breath, the cyclopean window to a world of hate and hellfire falling upon the volcanic tower ahead of him.

Death Mountain.

An exceedingly dramatic title, but admittedly one that verged on being somewhat appropriate. A great wyrm lay coiled within its bowels, and the haphazard array of rumours brought forth by the ever-vengeful spirit within his armour attested to its might. Its simple mind scoured the dataverse, tearing forth truths from the unfathomable behemoth of knowledge that claimed the strange realm of knowledge and data he would never dream to touch. It stalked through ones and zeroes like an ancient predator, scarred and starved by millennia of violence and hunger, glutting itself upon the ripe bounty this new hunting ground had to offer, returning the choicest scraps to its master of meat and bone.

Pistons hissed as it guided its host to its feet, feeding its organic symbiote coloured hexadecimals, the shifting of code translating to hurried pict-recordings of fire and blood claiming what was Volvagia’s by right of strength. His final companion had done its duty, forewarning the fetid, fallen angel. Another step, another inch closer towards death. Muttered prayers, vocal libations offered up to appease the machine spirit, tumbled from his maw as his shambled towards the obsidian spire.

***

It took him several hours to arrive at the base camp, ramshackle shanties housing the warriors in this calm before the firestorm, strange, stone-hewn creatures hurrying between doorways, doing all they could to prepare for the upcoming battle of legend. They parted before him, the gorons glancing at him briefly before continuing their harried errands, a rough circle of solitude enshrouding him. As always, he stood apart from the world, his rotten mass plodding towards the gathering of primes, the hovering, shrouded figure of his Lord evident. Mere mortals surrounded the divine figure of his Master, the self-absorbed spirals of narcissism he had witnessed on that empty field being born anew in this scorched realm. He judged them as he approached, a reddened eye falling across them as the cynical corpse came to his Lord.

A golden-locked Fenrisian, clad in silvered steel plates, their jaw jutting forward like it was carved from pale marble, grinned cluelessly at the vista, a stone mallet twirling at absurd speed in their hand. He was not expecting them to ponder the mysteries of the universe any time soon, but this was hardly a requirement in battle. It was evident they were a warrior, and as long as they could leverage that to their advantage when the time came, there would be no quarrel.

His head swiveled, fossilized spine scraping against his armour as he looked upon more of the assemblage.

A woman leaned against the side of a hastily-erected hovel, darkness infusing her being. Ebon hair, black synth-skin, shining armour, and a similarly colourless cloak adorning her perpetually prepared body. A device hung from her hip, a seemingly bladeless sword. He decided to not question the wisdom of this, trusting that there were few primes foolish enough to walk into a war without a means of waging one.

Nearby, similarly impassive, was a man who had yet to discover colours other than black. Any armaments were kept concealed behind a lengthy coat, a disservice to the wargear’s machine spirit. Okor’s own remained mag-locked to his body, brazenly displaying their bulky, corroded mass.

A robed figure looked upon the other man with derision, a scowl embossed on their dour face. Dark robes, mystic runes swirling around the edges, failed to conceal a silver pentacle lying across his chest, offering up glimpses of focuses, fetishes, and other quintessential tools of magery. With luck, this warlock would not explode, or merge with others to become a nigh-unstoppable entity of destruction. He did not fancy his odds.

A dark-haired youth stood by Nealaphh’s side, a calculating expression present on their face, wisdom beyond their years evident in their eyes. Perhaps they were a prodigy, perhaps they were possessed by some unspeakable horror from beyond mortality. It had become increasingly hard to determine the nature of children in this realm, much to his annoyance.

Whirrs and clicks greeted his further steps as a heavily augmented woman glanced at him, a steel grin sealed to their darkened skin, crimson light pouring out from a cybernetic oculus as they watched his approach towards his Lord.

Clad in carapace, a man lurked in the shadows, a blood-red mask hiding him from the world as he watched the proceedings, ivory lenses set in his false face denying him any vestiges of humanity.

With a final heavy step, Okor came before Nealaphh, three emerald eyes gazing down at him as he stopped, knees protesting as he knelt before his Master. ”My Lord. Justice was… served.” He slowly began to rise, pulling a blade from an inglorious position on his back, mere cargo, rather than the artifact it could have been. It flew into the air, an idle toss supplemented by the telekinetic power of the Headmaster sequestering it within the swirling morass of sigils adorning its robes. He moved to Nealaphh’s side, his mind slowly relaxing, opening itself up to the ambient energies that emanated from his master, the chaos a taste of home, a reaffirmation of his continued dominance in this nonsensical realm. His claws wrapped around the pommel of his blade as he pressed its rusted tip into the dirt, standing vigil over the proceedings.

[Zack Fair]

Another long voyage.
 
Zack had always wondered how personal energy and the need for rest worked in this realm where he could summon anything else at whim. He had decided not to test it on this trip shortly after setting out, however. One thing was for certain, and that was that he would need every ounce of his strength if he was going to be any help to the coalition that dared challenge the all-powerful overlord of the Ashen Steppes. Truly, it was a fool’s errand. Immortal or not, only the most insane and idiotic primes would dare to challenge this sleeping beast.
 
He already felt a kinship with them.
 
Still, as exciting as it was, Zack didn’t get in too much of a hurry. He travelled quickly, but carefully, ever mindful of the typical terrain hazards of this volcanic world. The journey took longer than expected, but was more or less fruitful. Nealaphh’s post advertising the campaign against Volvagia was viewable to anyone with Dataverse access, so with such a bold statement came the appropriate attention.
 
Zack camped out with various caravans on his journey to Death Mountain, some of them belonging to locals to the Steppes, and others comprised of nothing but tourists. The latter were a skittish bunch, being visitors from far more stable ‘Verses. They wanted to be close enough to say they saw the fight, but far enough away to not actually be a part of it. Still, Zack enjoyed sitting and swapping stories with all types of people on his journey. In it, he’d learned some of the depths of the different realities that the Omniverse touched.
 
He knew when he was getting close to Death Mountain by the thinning of the crowds. Not many people wanted to venture near the Goron village and the Institute’s encampment, despite the former having the reputation for being one of the more welcoming places in the ‘Verse. Before long, he broke down his flimsy motorcycle into Omnilium and continued the rest of the way up the harsh terrain by foot.
 
Zack had a very recognizable silhouette. Even one that didn’t know the ex-SOLDIER could guess what he was about, as the enormous sword that hung from his back was typically the first thing about him that a stranger would notice. He made his way into the camp with ease, attracted to the same gathering of primes as everyone else. Evidence of his extended stay in the Steppes was easy to spot. His skin was a bit darker, and the black ash that the wind carried everywhere was stained onto himself and everything he owned. Yet, beneath it all, he had a warm and almost innocent smile. Upon spotting the two he recognized, his eyes lit up like a child on Christmas.
 
“Miranda! Colonel!” Zack immediately exclaimed as he joined the group, abstaining from making a proper and broad greeting. If one weren’t paying attention, they might have thought he’d been there all along. “Man, is it good to see you two are alright. We didn’t know what to make of what happened to you two at Bowser’s place.”
 
Zack scanned the group again, and spotted one more individual that he recognized. He’d never learned Dresden’s name, because they’d only been acquainted for less than a minute before a bursting lava flow had caused everyone to run for their lives. Still, the spellcaster had come to his group’s aid before, and here he was again, ready to help with another noble cause.
 
“Hey, Warning Shot! You made it, too!” Zack said, knowing no other name to call the wizard. “Glad to see you survived. We were worried about you.”
 
Before continuing to catch up with his friends, he knew he needed to get to the point of his arrival. Zack looked over to the one he knew was Nealaphh. It wasn’t hard to guess which one was calling the shots around here, so he gave a firm and polite nod.
 
“According to Drake Oneir this is the place to be,” Zack addressed the godmind. “So count me in as one more dragon slayer.”

[Red-Hood]

Having already been introduced, Red merely nodded to each of the other primes.  
"Well if you don't need anything from us at this moment Nealaphh I'm going to go find a tent" 

The being that was Nealapph nodded, or what Red assumed was a nod given that the entity didn't have many features. Red walked past the primes leaving his companions behind to further the conversation. 

Towards the end of the row of tents he found one that was vacant. Red pulled the flap aside and stepped in. He was surprised to find that the tent was more spacious then he first would have assumed. A cot sat off to the left side of it and a small chest to the right. Red sat down on the cot, staring at the ground. He thought about the upcoming battle that would soon be at hand, still unsure what his role he'd be playing it. He could have asked and probably should have at the time of their arrival but he was tired and longed for solitude that he hadn't had in awhile. Although he enjoyed the company of Thor, Red still found it easier to be on his own.

Red laid down on his bunk and stared at the ceiling of his burlap tent. His eyes began to grow heavy as he fell asleep. 

Red dreamnt he was back in Gotham, jumping from roof top to roof top with his teacher Batman. They were chasing some one who was just out of sight that he couldn't make out who they were.  Finally their prey had run out of space to run, he stopped peering over the edge of the building. The figure turned to face the dynamic duo, chuckling as they drew near. It was the Joker, his sick crimson smile parted menacingly. 

Red punched him, face paint smearing onto his gloved hand. Joker laughed as he slowly looked back at Red. 

"That all you got Jason?" The clown sneered. Red punched him repeatedly, blood splattering the rooftop with each punch. Joker stood and wiped the blood from his face. His face paint smeared even more. Red took a step back as he looked at the clown. Most of the paint had come off, exposing his face. The face that looked back at him was his own. Red stared in horror as his doppelganger began to speak.

"We are just alike you and I, soon we will be one and the same." Throwing his head back he cackled, the noise of the laughter echoing inside his head.

Red woke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. He sat there staring once again at the burlap ceiling, shaking slightly and breathing heavily as he recalled his freakish nightmare.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik's grey horse emerged from the gate at full speed, the hot air whipping the psychic's face. Erik commanded his horse to stop and took in the landscape. The verse was uncomfortably hot, possibly more so than the endless dunes. Ash coated the ground in thick layers, crunching beneath the horses hooves. Erik wiped sweat from his brow and cursed his luck.

"I hate the heat." The psychic muttered as he urged his horse forwards again. "Why couldn't the dragon live somewhere nice and cold, like a mountain." Erik's horse surged forwards, closing in on the beasts lair. Soon enough, a small encampment came into view, shadowed by a massive mountain that made Erik eat his words.

"Forget I even asked." He psychic groaned as he studied the mountain. It was obviously volcanic, and seemed to have a ring of fire orbiting it's peak. Erik's horse trotted forwards into the camp. There was a small gathering of primes, including a busy looking Nealaphh. 

"Erik Vrell, reporting for duty." Erik said, bowing slightly to the god kind as he dismounted.

[Thor]

Thor let himself come to ground a short distance from the goron village. He set Revan down and said they should wait for their companions. Flying had taken more out of him than he had expected. Thor watched Red and the masked woman come to him as he let his strength return. When they had come close enough Thor began to follow, motioning for Revan to follow. As they entered the village they could see four figures standing in an open space. The first three seemed human enough, though all but one seemed to wield the tools of sorcery, a skill he had little liking of thanks to his brother. The fourth, however, was different. The black robed figure did not wield the implements of the Art, yet Thor knew some how that the face beneath that hood would not be human. When he and his companions had reached the group the woman calling herself Frost stepped forward and offered a fair introduction. All four turned their heads, and Thor was not disappointed when he saw the face of the hooded figure. He was about to step forward and personally lend his aid to the one called Nealaphh, whom Thor suspected was the robed being with three eyes, when more began to arrive. He watched the spectacle of the gathering unfold before him and his companions. First was a massive thing of steel and circuits that opened a gaping mouth to spit forth a much smaller warrior who identified the dark being as Nealaphh. Nealaphh spoke to them through the aid of floating shapes, thanking them for coming. Then a man that smelled of rot in armor that glowed with power came to stand beside the shadowed leader with a quiet apology. Then yet another man, this one with a sword as big as his body, approached walking right passed Thor and his friends to greet the group as old friends. Finally Red-Hood spoke saying that unless more was needed he would be retiring. Thor watched him go, contemplating following him, only to have another warrior riding a horse arrive scattering his thoughts. The warrior dismounted and bowed to the one called Nealaphh and announced his name and intention of joining their cause in one short sentence. Thor looked at the wildly varied group. He had remembered the heroes that had united to guard his own earth. There were similarities to be drawn. He smiled.

Thor looked around at the buildings, then at Nealaphh. "My Hammer sings of dragon's death, but if we are not to march this day then I would like strong drink and good company. Does anyone know if this place possess a hall of drinks?"

[Gwendolyn]

Revan's eyes followed Red as he stalked further into the patchwork camp, each doorstep throwing up a small cloud of dust and ash. He had a dark aura around him despite the facade, he kept up. It was rather peculiar to Revan how he bottled it all up instead of venting. Then again, Revan didn't know him that well.

A dry, scratching noise drew her attention and thoughts away from the red-masked man, instead focusing on the behemoth of a warrior that stood before her. She wasn't sure that calling him human would be entirely accurate. He was several feet taller than any human she met. Most aliens, too. Revan's eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to find something to compare him to.

"Rancor. Only remote match." She muttered to herself, learning once again on the hut behind her. The newcomer resembled a young, heavily armored Rancor. The recent memory of his coming gave the young woman chills. He wasn't natural, by any stretch of the imagination. Revan would have to meditate on this further.

Nealaphh was an exceptionally curious entity, but not in an exactly bad way. He was a being that operated in a different place of thinking and perceiving, and yet he seemed as tangible and real as anyone else. If anyone was to blame for that, Revan had to guess it was Omni. Wanting to know more about how this job was going to proceed, Revan pushed herself off the small ramshackle building and approached the being tentatively. It's head turned as she began to walk towards him as if it could sense her presence. It probably could.

"Headmaster Nealaphh, it truly is an honor to make your acquaintance." Revan started, drawing in a deep breath top steady her racing heartbeat. His aura made Revan feel insignificant and small, and his underlying power washed over her in invisible waves, throwing her off for a few moments. The Sith shook her head, clearing it somewhat.

"I will retire until the battle so that I will have time to clear my head." It nodded, seemingly accepting her words before running whatever he was doing before. She turned and walked out of the clearing, weaving around the creatures and people that hurried about. It was a familiar setting, even if the people were different. Revan's memories were fuzzy, but she remembered some. Soldiers performing daily PT, routine inspections. The occupants of the bridge standing at attention as she arrived. But the rest was nothing but haze.

She knew that many people would die in this battle, it was a truth of war. And they were at war, despite what some would believe. The Headmaster put forth some very interesting ideas, ones that made a lot of sense and appealed to Revan. She would have to study them more intensively to extract any more information.

Listing the canvas flap to an empty tent, Revan stooped slightly to step into the small structure. A lone candle sat on a makeshift nightstand next to a military-style cot, lighting the tent with a dim, flickering light. Sighing, she sat on the edge of the cot, her hand in her lap, dark hair like a curtain in front of her face. It had been a long day, filled with many surprises and interesting experiences. Her left hand found the familiar weight of her lightsaber, the cylindrical hilt like an extension of her arm.

She unclipped the weapon from her belt and ignited her weapon, the dim candle's light overpowered by a blood-red hue. A low hum filled her ears and she smiled as she disengaged the blade. She had high hopes about the coming battle, despite the pessimistic thoughts nagging at her mind.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the cot, Revan lowered her head to the pillow on the cot, surrendering to her waking dreams...

[Gildarts]

The small cat draped over his shoulder and was bouncing up and down, "Where're we going?" her bright eyes never wavered from the path that carried them beyond a forest, past a portal leading into a haze of white, then beyond a thick cloud of gray, they were plunged into a new world. One so distinctive the pair reminisced on how they both had been introduced to the Omniverse, neither experience was pleasant for the prime nor the feline, yet they had united in arms and spirits, though Piqui had yet to know that she had been transplanted worlds apart from Magnolia.

The Ashen Steppes certainly lived up to the name, though it was ambiguous if either of the wayfaring travelers knew of it. Gildarts had a indiscernible expression chiseled into his face, one that would not be swayed by any swell of putrid smoke or splurge of molten lava in his way. Beyond the two, lay more of the same. Black rubble, sharp mountains of hardened obsidian, and enough thick smoke to fill a smoker's lungs for a lifetime. Not to mention the heat, it was a strain on his still healing bones, which had had some time to rest before he had finally set out on this journey once more. Gildarts had been determined to leave, even though he had wanted to visit Ambrosia again, for the simple fact that with the Malefactor in his mind, he could no longer be sure if it would eventually be corroded. Living on the edge was terrible, but it was worth it if the creature did not possess others and use their bodies to create mass genocide. Gildarts sighed. The Malefactor had stayed quiet for the last couple of days, too quiet,  Gildarts suspected it wouldn't last. The creature would always thirst for something. He thought that it might find sanctity and sanity in peace instead of blood, or perhaps something it could only get a taste of such as manhood.

The Malefactor could never have that. Yet, by possessing people and using them to create death, it surely had developed a taste for blood. Meanwhile, on the hike ascending a generous incline into the volatile sky, Gildarts breathed in so much of the volcanic cloud, he could feel the acid burning in his nose, and traces of black soot could be found on his tongue.

Piqui had started purring, but then when her eyes started unnecessarily tearing, she realized that this climate was no joke. Her fluffy fur started to wilt and stain and smudge with sludge, her nose wouldn't stop throbbing, and her wings, had they been large with balance enough to float, surely would've been torn straight in two. The exceed was quite unhappy and relinquished her joyous position on the man's shoulder to hide in his bag, slung over his shoulder, which still had some fresh air in it, and Piqui gladly gobbled it up in hopes to soothe her scorched lungs.

The trail leading forward, spun on, to the cat's eyes, much like a twirling ball of yarn, slowly unwinding at every new curve. Molten lava spewed before him, and nearly nicked his inorganic arm. His gaze seethed with more heat than the fire as the prime extended his hand and blasted the squirting liquid into cubes of still steaming stone. Specks glowed bright red at his feet, while the oblivious prime counted his fingers - still five, phew! - and then counted his luck. Gildarts had been lead here by an inkling. His gut sometimes told him where to go and he followed. Usually there was a mission for him to complete at the end of the venture, other times, adventure crossed him and intercepted him along the way.

"You there!" An old voice howled from afar.

The prime must've had wax in his ears the source of the voice grew nearer with the soft trampling of footsteps atop stone, "I say, you there sir!"

The mighty prime spun around on the old man, probably giving him a fright as the Fairytail wizard's cape swished like that of the grim reaper. Gildarts' stone face bore down on the elderly man with a spark of curiously, while his eyebrows rose up, "Eh? Do you mean me?"

"Yes, you! At this rate you'll tread right through the mine fields, and I don't even mean the good kind, just take a look for yourself," the man's withered index finger pointed to the hazy horizon.

At first, Gildarts saw nothing, however then, bringing forth into his view as a few clouds shifted and thinned, the Prime saw the smoldering spouts of many chutes erupting from the ground, just like the spurt of lava he had just encountered. The one that had nearly melted his arm off. It was like a backwards waterfall, yet intent on ambushing any who stepped on it. It was a minefield. Triggered by the slightest toe-touch.

Or at least, that's what the man was saying, "... So that's why you can't go there. Hey, are you even listening? Guh, you must be one of those primes I heard were passing through, well, go on then, Death Mountain is that way!"

"Death Mountain?" He mused his inquiry.

"Sure, you know, that menacing thing on the horizon past the magma geysers. That thing you're walking in the direction of. Only t'ing for miles m'friend, aside from that there village down there."

Gildarts gulped, suddenly the air felt as though it were stinging his eyes and his throat felt dry, "How long have I been walking?" The prime looked around the sky and saw no real sense of light, save the ominous glow from the orange unquenchable fires. He licked his chapped lips and drew blood along the little course lines of skin.

"Beats me, but if yer thirsty, you can come this way, and I'll get you a glass of water from the tavern or something." The old man hobbled back to a hidden village that looked like a couple of shacks from this perspective, the rest of the buildings were hidden behind the crest of the small hill. He tossed his head back and saw the prime's contemplative squint and beckoned again with his hand, "Well, come on then!"

[Okor]

Drifting flakes of ash settled onto the skeletal sentinel, the corrosion of his armour slowly being subsumed by the flame-wrought remnants. Where did the ash come from? There was scarcely any organic matter in this land of death, save its inhabitants.

The immediate conclusion sprang to his mind, as the fire-belching beast still lay coiled within its spire, the airborne cremations of its victims caught in orbit around its lair. In death, they served a purpose: To further demonstrate the enormity of the task the Institute took upon itself. A creature larger than a thunderhawk dwelt within this realm, and his Lord had decreed that it must die.

And so it would. This was the entirety of the matter. Nealaphh had made its will known, and he was Oath-bound to enforce this.

Not all those present shared in his tireless devotion, however. Several had retired to the nearby shantytown, slipping beneath warm covers to dream whatever visions this blighted land spawned. Okor himself rarely slept, these days. His dreams had transitioned into nightmares, the comforting embrace of the Grandfather absent from the realm of souls, the Empyrean of this blasted reality simply reflecting back accusations when what little biology still functioned demanded a cessation.

Seeking a distraction from the ashen dead that coated him, an eye as fiery as its surroundings looked out across its surroundings, the dead wasteland static, unmoving, thoroughly and completely deceased. Nothing grew, nothing rotted. It was devoid of life, replete with naught but stone and flame.

It was anathema. The sooner Volvagia fell, the sooner he could abscond from this atrocity against nature, and return to a realm more conductive to his being. Ceramite-clad shoulders rolled in ossified sockets, fused bones grinding against each other.

There was an anomaly on the fire-scorched fields, a pair trudging towards the outskirts of the staging grounds, singed detritus parting before them, a palpable aura of power demanding the obeisance of the landscape. One did not survive for long in the volatile power structure of Chaos without acquiring a sixth (Or seventh, or possibly eighth, depending on how much the gods favoured you) sense for strength. The prime had it in spades, raw power leaking from their every pore, suffusing the surroundings. Disease-ridden saliva welled up in his ruin of a mouth, the thought of that power belonging to one more deserving bringing a smile to his rotten face.

Another day, perhaps. Jagged markings, the ancient script of a world long lost to the mists of time, crawled across his helmet, accumulating around the approaching auburn-maned applicant. Packmaster. Huntleader. Foeslayer. Blinking away these sycophantic supplications, he dreged his blade up from the silicate of the square, sliding the antiquated copper cleaver into the leather loop, slow strides taking him towards the newcomer. He was Chosen, he was the Dean, he was tasked with slaying Volvagia, not Gildarts. The name erupted into his vision, emblazoned by the primal intellect dwelling within his second skin.

A dark figure detached itself from the shadows of the buildings, lightly following Okor’s mammoth strides, the Plague Marine’s occasional desperate breath and the constant protestations of his armour shielding them from his notice.

It did not take long for the two titans to meet, the silicate storms that pervaded this realm halted as they looked upon each other. The Dean of Security, a towering demigod in armour older than empires, dripping with entropy and disease, sustained by little more than a stubborn refusal to simply stop.

The Strongest Prime, clad within a dark cloak, linen bandages concealing a sigil beneath their muscular chest, the silvered surfaces of their augmented limbs struggling to keep out the ever-pervasive ash.

A bass rumble broke the brief silence.

”You are Gildarts.” It was not a question. In this damned land, there were few certainties. It soothed his tainted soul, being able to latch onto a concrete fact.

An eyebrow raised itself in a quizzical fashion, the mage taking in the sight of the gangrenous giant. “Last time I checked. And who might you be?” A slight smirk was visible on their face, an optimism Okor was entirely incapable of cultivating prevailing.

The Chosen drew breath, rusted respirator rattling as tumorous lungs filled with toxic air. ”Have you come to slay… The Drake? Or assault The Master?” He snarled, looming over the arcanist.

Gildarts leaned backwards, silently praying for the removal of his olfactory organs. “The drake? The master? What are you talking about?” The Plague Marine pulled back, turning from the impromptu interrogation, waving a pestilence-dripping claw. ”Volvagia. Come. Nealaphh seems to… Have faith in you. He can tell you more.” A heavy greave came down absentmindedly on a stone in his path, the lump of obsidian cracking beneath his weight. ”He is more… Eloquent than I.”

[Tearen Wover]

Everything was in place.
 
Pieces had been carefully positioned on the sham, imitation chessboard landscape of the Omniverse. Months of planning, delays, and unexpected turns of events had ever stood in the way of the God-Mind’s progress. Despite it all, despite this sickened universe’s refusal to cow itself to everlasting change, Nealaphh was finally in a place to launch a direct blow to the farce that The Smiling One had put in place.
 
The night prior had been an interesting one.
 
Okor and Red Hood had ventured away from the camp in the darkness on the auspices of a security sweep. Nealaphh had been dubious of the necessity of such a thing, but the results could not be disputed. Out of all the Primes that Ambrosia had to offer, at the very least, The Strongest Prime had stumbled into Nealaphh’s orchestrations. Words would have to be had with the Princess at a later date, but for now, Nealaphh did not have time to worry about the petty nuances of politics.
 
The wizard had been surprised to see the God-Mind, to say the least. The last time they had met had ended in blood, and though the battle was fierce, both Primes had left with their lives. Perhaps it was the fact alone that Nealaphh had spared Gildarts that the wizard was even willing to consider assisting the God-Mind with their doom-driven task, but after explaining to the man that a pact had been forged with his chosen leader, Gildarts had fallen into line, if silently. Something still plagued the Prime, however; Nealaphh could sense it. Whatever illness had gripped Gildarts before now had dissipated, but this new blight had somehow added…depth to the wizard’s mind. A dark, consuming depth that reminded Nealaphh of something that could only be equated to home.
 
Erik Vrell was an interesting sight to behold. The last Nealaphh had seen of the man was his desperate last stand in the burning streets of Nippur. Before that, he had been beaten down by the blighted hand of Nealaphh’s most trusted follower. A smattering of fear speckled itself across the psionically luminant landscape of Vrell’s mind. The boy would be an asset, for now.
 
He, along with many of the other Primes assembled, had retired to the makeshift shelters that Nealaphh had spent the day constructing. The entire camp sang with anticipation and excited fear across the psychic medium, except for a notable few. Tom had gone missing, per se, shortly after the group of Primes had chosen to disperse, and the signature blankness of his mind was absent from what the Enigma could feel on Death Mountain that night. It was odd, but perhaps the presence of so many other arcane practitioners had put Riddle on edge.
 
Thor Odinson had been the last of the Primes to retire to bed, if the table of the Gorons’ feast hall could be called such a thing. Though the Gorons themselves drank only water and ate only rocks, they did keep a decadent stash of more human fare and drink stocked deep within their basalt larder. Darunia himself had chosen to join in the revelry, for the Gorons were nothing if not proud and boisterous. Their friendly nature immediately had won the God of Thunder over, and by the following morning, they too were calling Thor a Brother.
 
Colonel, Zack and Miranda had spent the night conversing, and catching up. At least, the first two Primes did. Even from across the Goron Village, Nealaphh could sense her deeply troubled mind. What, exactly, was bothering, was something that Nealaphh could only guess at. Hopefully, for now, whatever it was would not distract her during the coming battle.
 
It was still quite early in the morning on Death Mountain, a fact punctuated by the groggy look on more than a few of the gathered Primes’ faces. Darkness enveloped the landscape, and looking out from the side of the high slope, the fire-specked landscape of the Ashen Steppes illuminated ebon blanket like a field of warped, dying stars. Looking behind, the summit of Death Mountain served as the proverbial sun. A wide field of pulsating orange blossomed from behind the silhouette of the peak’s caldera, and seemed to beckon with an almost organic scintillation.
 
Presently, the gathered Primes stood before Nealaphh in much the same way they had the evening prior. Their collected eyes glinted in the darkness, the flickering of the fire-soaked summit catching their humors like predators in the night. It was not entirely an inaccurate comparison, for this morning, they were indeed the hunters. Klee and Shen had taken their dutiful places at Nealaphh’s side, but this morning, the God-Mind chose to speak to the Primes directly. Its telepathic voice rang clear in their thoughts, deep and resonant.
 
Good morning, treasured friends and allies. Though it is a dark morning in the Steppes, it is a bright day in the Omniverse. The Smiling One would have us amble across his sculpted world, suffering and dying in vain hopes of a world we can call home.
 
A hoarse, modulated chuckle came from Okor.
 
By now I trust you have all reviewed the plan of operations for this morning. As such, I will now assign you to your squads. Gildarts Clive, Zack Fair, Okor Paleblood, Thor Odinson, Tom Riddle; you have been assigned to Alpha squad. Your task is nothing short of killing a god, and I would have no one else in this false world attempt such a thing.
 
“You choose wisely, Nealaphh!” Thor bellowed, brandishing Mjlnor.
 
“Hey, I’ve done nothing but kill dragons since I got here. What’s one or five more?” Zack said, only half-sardonically.
 
Okor, I entrust the Gigaton Hammer to you.
 
The monolithic revenant stomped towards Nealaphh, and reached out to take the proffered implement. It floated greedily into the plague marine’s ancient grasp, not entirely of Nealaphh’s own power. There came a sharp splintering noise as a shudder seemed to run up and down the length of the polished haft. As if responding to Okor’s touch, the Gigaton Hammer took on a violent, jagged appearance, crusting over with verdigris and rust. A fiery orange beacon blistered open on the head, mirroring Okor’s own cyclopean gaze.
 
“A true honor my…lord. But was not the….Goron chieftan to wield the Hammer?” the Plague Marine wheezed. Nealaphh shook its head ever so slightly.
 
That was my original intent, but such plans do not always fall into place so neatly. The important element is that it has a worthy master.
 
Conceding, Okor took a step back and ran a gauntleted hand along the weapon, the closest thing to affection he was capable of. Tom rose an eyebrow at the display, making a small note in his diary. Neither he nor the shadow had designed the hammer to adapt to the will of its wielder. It would have to be studied more closely later. Gildarts remained resolutely silent, keeping his eyes fixed on Nealaphh. Again, the God-Mind sensed a darkness fomenting the wizard’s soul, but there was no open thought of hostility.
 
Erik Vrell, Red Hood, Darth Revan. You will accompany me into Volvagia’s lair to make preparations for the death blow. You have been chosen for your demonstrated cunning.
 
“Demonstrated how?” snapped Revan. All she had done was walk/fly up the side of the mountain. How could Nealaphh possibly know anything of what she was capable of?
 
No simple mind can block my scrutiny, Revan. If you have such an implicit discipline, I am sure you are a sight to behold when you put it to active use.
 
“…fine then.” She muttered, he claws tapping impatiently against the silvered pommel of her lightsaber. Red Hood glanced over at Thor for a moment, and Nealaphh could feel a pang of longing for the man’s comrade, but ultimately, Hood acknowledged his duty.
 
“So long as I’m far away from that freak.” Erik muttered, glancing over at Okor. Just about everyone heard him, but now was not the time to take grievance at such remarks.
 
Connor Hound, Miranda Frost, Harry Dresden, Colonel. You will keep the rest of us safe, in a manner of speaking. We all owe you a great debt.
 
 
“Affirmative.” Said Colonel in his abrupt tone. Miranda’s crimson gaze betrayed no emotions whatsoever, and she simply folded her arms. Connor, on the other hand, gleefully cocked his gun and flashed a grin at Nealaphh.
 
“First real job since I’ve been here. Gonna make it good, you can count on that.” The mercenary said with nothing short of a cheery tone.
 
“Hey, no pressure right? By the way, we're gonna have to talk about that 'mental scrutiny' thing later.” Harry snorted, tapping his staff on the ground impatiently. Nealaphh paid the wizard no heed, and continued speaking.
 
Darunia has allowed some of his Gorons to assist us in our endeavor. Gamma team, I leave you with twenty of them to aid you in your fight. We will take five to help guide us through the caverns inside the mountain. Alpha team, I am afraid I cannot put Secondaries right in the sight of one of the Omniverse’s most powerful Primes.
 
The gathered warriors expressed their understanding, and thus, the Battle of Death Mountain had officially begun. They met with the pack of thirty Gorons on the road out of the village, up the mountain. Tom had scouted the path the day prior, and found no other way up to the summit. Nealaphh had no doubt that Volvagia knew they were coming, and that it was only a matter of time before his brood fell upon them…

Writers will have another day or so to write as a total group before I divide the event into three separate threads. Standard calling rules apply. This is due to the fact we do not yet have a moderator volunteering to write as Volvagia.

Please subscribe to the discussion thread so that you can remain advised of any changes in plan.

[Harry Dresden]

Harry woke early the day of the assault, not so much eager as determined. He'd be working with serious forces today. It reminded him of Chichen Itza, and this time he didn't have three Knights of the Cross, his fairy godmother, and the Blackstaff as backup. That said, he was going into it with, among others, an eldritch Power, Lord Voldemort himself, and what might possibly be an honest-to-God Sith. As Harry lay in his bedroll staring up at the ceiling, he wondered if it said anything about him that he was working with all the bad guys now. Still, nothing to be done about it but get to work and get it done. Traditional morality aside, they were going to embark on a great and terrible undertaking today; the banishment of one of the stronger Primes in the Omniverse. A reminder that they were still mortal, after a fashion. And that meant that Harry would need to prepare to work some major-league forces.

The entity had summoned quite a few facilities, but part of Harry's preparatory process was going to involve being a short ways off from the camp. After leaving a simple note; "Gone to prepare for the day, back in an hour," pinned to the obsidian frame of his little shelter, he grabbed his staff and coat, checked for the blasting rod in the coat pocket, and moved down the side of the mountain a short ways, summoning a small camp shower, the kind with the jug of water and a shower head instead of plumbing. Used to cold showers, the wizard didn't bother to warm it. The cold water hadn't really bothered him since... well, since he took a bit of the Winter into himself, really. It's not like a cold shower could hold a candle to the sheer chill of Arctis Tor. Harry disrobed, hanging his clothing over the door and stepping under the shower head, opening the flow of water with a pull of a cord and letting it run over him.

Harry didn't pay much attention to the routine ritual cleansing at this point, slowly and methodically washing himself both literally and spiritually, excess magic draining away with the water. That was the real reason he was doing this; someone else's energy clinging to his own could interfere with some of the larger spells. With this many Primes in the area, the less contamination he started the day with, the better. After he showered, he extracted the Omnilium from his clothing, leaving the spell-wrought duster, and resummoned some denim jeans and a soft white T-shirt along with the towel he used to dry himself.

Now dressed, calm, and clean, Harry returned to the camp as the day began in earnest. A simple breakfast of eggs and toast preceded the final strategy meeting, wherein Nealaphh went over everyone's final assignments and Harry spotted a familiar face. Gildarts Clive, one of Erza's friends and a short-term ally of his during that... mess that was Dante's Abyss. He nodded towards the familiar man with neutral determination, focused mainly on the task ahead of him and the way he'd have to go about it. Harry made a token objection to the entity's blatant usage of telepathy with a tap of his staff, the sarcastic comment almost second-nature to him now, and continued planning. Colonel and Connor were unfamiliar. He had met Miranda, once, but they'd been separated soon after and he hadn't seen her fight. Still, Connor cocked a gun, which made it pretty evident what he'd be doing. Much like his rune-carved staff made it blatantly obvious what his own specialization was.

The wizard drew his blasting rod as the group began the trek uphill, the shorter length of carved wood resting in his right hand with the staff in his left. He marched with the other members of Gamma, attempting to hammer out a more specific team strategy. "Alright, I've got a couple spells that I can use on groups, but I'll need the enemy grouped as close together as possible for the best effect. What about everyone else? What's your specialty?"

[Miranda Frost]

 Miranda never did sleep that night. Instead she spent it speaking with zack Fair, a man who knew her before her reformation within the Nexus. Apparently she, or another version of herself, journeyed with him through this fiery wasteland recently, until she herself exploded into countless particles of light. Another version or no, this other Miranda was herself, give or take.

 Though she was pleased to have an ally here that she could confide in, she was disappointing that he did not originate at the same world she did. Recollection of her past events was all she really desired now.

 A few hours of meditation within her assigned tent brought a few memories back, though mostly of the events that occurred in this realm, not her home. She did remembered she once worked with an organisation Miranda had once dubbed the "Black Knights" and that she had a brother that lurked around Omni's toy box. Other than that she drew blank when trying to press at the mental wall within her mind.

 Then morning came, the rays of the red sun peaking through the cracks of her tent to meet with the crimson luminosity of her own. She stood and stretched what little organic muscle remained in her body, and tasked the computer within her eye to go over a extensive diagnostics of her body's systems. 

'Initializing system diagnostics.....'

 Her chest grew hot as her body pushed its crystal to its limits or at least to the point a normal human could sustain, and then to her normal amount, the amount her computer stored within its database.

Internal D.R.C performing at 50 Percent.... 
Back up L.R.C Operational...

"Acceptable", she muttered to herself. She knew this world put limits on somethings or brought others to that boundary line, so 50 percent maybe just enough she needed. Of course through her short memory, and through what zack had revealed to her, she'd never really gone above that amount and still managed to take on these... dragons.

Oil Pumps performing at 100 percent..
Lubrication levels full...
Prosthesis fully operational...
Chest plate undamaged...
Organic tissue undamaged...
Basic Systems Online and Operational.
Combat Systems Online and Operational.

 With that out of the way she exited the tent she resided in. Gorons and human warriors alike readied themselves to take the fight to the mountain. Quartermasters gave out weaponry and soldiers marched in rank and file.

 It was time for her to get a move on to.

 She stepped forward and walked back to the same square they had met before. There she found the primes assemble and separate into groups. Miranda herself would not be a part of the squad to slay the dragon, but then again she was not really needed. That squad stunk of testosterone and aggressive heavy hitters. Adding Miranda to that team would not likely make any matters better. (that group also smelled of death and rotting corpses, so she couldn't quite complain about being left out of that party)

 Instead she would be with Gamma team. The team's roster consisted of her, Colonel, Harry Dresden, and Colonel Hound along with 20 Goron warriors. Between the primes, she mused at the balance of skills and abilities they all seemed to have. Between her and the rest of them, she believed they'd be victorious. 

 She gazed back up at Nealaphh as he briefed the rest of his little army. Cloaks could not conceal one from Miranda's eye, so Miranda could clearly see that this being was not human. What is clear, however, is that this being's home-world and Miranda's home-world were light-years, perhaps even dimensions apart. 

 When the meeting adjured, the squads compiling together and making final preparations, Miranda approached the enigma that was Nealaph. "When this is over, I'll want to speak with you", she stated, her hand moving to tap the side of her head. "Preferably in person, face to face. I prefer interaction that way."

 Nealaph only answered in a gaze that felt as if he were staring into the depths of her mind and soul. Perhaps he was, and if so could probably see within her what she herself sought. Despite her ever increasing machine nature, she was still human. Humans make mistakes and are, often dangerously so, curious. Encountering something that she herself couldn't understand was frustrating. You never know who you will have to fight tomorrow.

 She nodded at the enigma and returned to her group, her eyes scanning over them all. Quickly she activated her communications device, becoming familiar with them. "If any of you have a communicator, I recommend using them. We don't know how many of these Dragons we'll fight, so there may be a chance we may get separated."

 Soon Harry Dresden arrived, but she didn't feel the need to repeat herself. She hoped he heard her. As for his question, she couldn't help but grin behind her mask. It would seem she would be the group's main melee fighter, though she still wasn't quite clear about Colonel. She hadn't quite trained her eye on him to even find out. The others were more obvious. Conner toyed with his gun so she assumed that was his specialty. Harry and Tom seemed to both radiate in strange energy, so she could guess they were magical types. Fair enough.

 "I excell at close quarters combat. With his coat on i'm fairly slow, but it should be enough to protect me from most damage. Warn me before you pop one of those spells... i'm not sure what all I can tank here."

[Red-Hood]

Red sat outside of his tent watching the other primes move about. Anticipation drenched the air  for the upcoming fight. Red had his helmet on the ground where he rested his foot. After a few seconds of concentration a steaming cup of coffee appeared in his hand. With a smirk he began to sip the contents. 

He thought about the team he was apart of, only one of which he slightly knew, that being Revan. Red couldn't help be disappointed with Nealaphh's choice, he had hoped he would be fighting alongside his friend Thor, but he understood the tactical advantage for him to be on the infiltration team. With a chuckle he thought about how Thor would boast after defeating the beast... If he lived. He didn't doubt his companion's power but the unknown of this dragon worried him slightly. 

Red was surprised he cared so much for Thor, after what he had been through he stayed to himself, only using others when it was necessary. But those months in Camelot grew a friendship he hadn't anticipated.  

Thor walked by to join his group, quickly Red stood, grabbing his helm to meet him

"Thor, don't die okay? You kick that Dragon's ass, and I better see your ass back down here with this is all through" Red stated plainly. 

"Do not doubt me friend, This strange world will sing of our victory for centuries to come!" Thor shouted, continuing to meet up with his group.

Red gave a weary smile as he walked to meet with his group. He took his place next to Revan who nodded at him as he approached. Red returned the nod as he began to place his helmet on his head.

[Demetri Malius]

Demetri rushed as he burst through the portal, the sudden increase in temperature causing beads of sweat to already form on his forehead as IRIS tried to cool down his body, running internal cooling processes in order to make sure her Creator didn't 'overheat' as she put it. Demetri could only smile at her worry as he continued along. He skittered across as puffs of steam threatened to shoot out rock and magma at him, Ezzy following close behind. Now that he did not have much in his satchel, he was able to return to an efficient speed, gliding across the landscape with ease.

"Creator, the temperature is over 45 degrees Celcius. I can only assume it will increase the further we go, I recommend proceeding with caution. In addition, there is a steep incline and a cliff coming up, we may go around but I believe we can scale it."

Demetri nodded, the whirring of his chains coming to life sharp in the air as he prepared, looking towards Ezzy, who gave a sly smirk before nonchalantly sprouting wings and taking to the air, causing Demetri to look in wonder for a moment before shaking it off and shooting a chain up towards the red glowing rocks. The blade chipped between one of the cracks as the thief scaled upwards, his feet lightly pushing against the wall of stone and making upwards progress as Ezzy chuckled and sped up past him, her wings granted her the ability to reach the peak of the cliff with ease as Demetri took his time with his more mechanical angle of going about it. She waited patiently as he finally turns over and gave a sharp exhale after having completed the feat, before both continuing on their way, Ezzy retracting her wings as they did so. 

After a long trek, they finally came upon seeing a speck in the distance, the large gathering of primes that were preparing for the final assault. With a grin, he came up with a plan for his entrance while telling IRIS to prepare for analysis. They would have to see who was accompanying the Headmaster and analyze who they could, get info on both temporary and permanent allies.

***

It wasn't long before the eyes of those gathered there fell upon them, acknowledging their presence.

"IRIS, analyze."

The robotic secondary's  HUD quickly displayed detailed information on whoever could not block its prying analytical rays, taking into account those new and old. It took well over a few minutes until she came up with all the diagnostics.

Besides from the obvious, Headmaster Nealaphh, Institute members Okor, Tom Riddle, and Colonel seem to be here as well. There are also new Primes here that we haven't met.

The one covered in red armor has some extreme physical capability with a variety of weapons. Certainly a warrior of the sorts. He appears to be very capable of battle. 

The scruffy man with the coat looks to be some type of wizard, able to cast a variety of spells and incantations, as well as a few weapons of his own. A very well  acquired ally, as he also seems to have gained quite a bit of power in comparison to the others,  definitely not new to the ways of the Omniverse.

The woman with the suit appears to have some psychic capability and is quite strategic in her ability, she would most likely work alongside us. Perhaps we can try to recruit her for the Thieve's Guild?

The muscular blonde seems to have most of his ability and power channeled into his blunt hammer, making it much more powerful than it seems. I have no doubt that it can shatter more than just a rock or pound a nail.

The one with the large sword, you appear to have met him before. He is quite powerful and has a great deal of combat ability, no doubt being able to hold the front lines with the Security Branch.

I addition, there is the woman with the varying prosthetics, another powerful ally. It appears the Headmaster has quite the gathering here.

That man there, he is a Lycan of some sort. Though he does well to hide it, as well as has a few sneaky tricks to help with that. Another candidate for a starting thief. 

There is also Erik Vrell, the boy I am sure you are familiar with, he seems to have made it here before us, time more on his side than ours.

Lastly, that one man there, with the cute cat-like being on his shoulder, he appears to be the most powerful out of the group, alongside Headmaster. I can feel the power that he radiates even though he seems passive. Quite dangerous, if I might say.

Demetri nodded at each short analysis of his allies, of course, he would need to write them down in greater detail later, but what she said will suffice. The thief gave a grin as he summoned a coin, walking through the group as he made his way to the Headmaster. With a flick of his thumb, the coin flipped through the air as he allowed a duplicate of himself to take his place, taking the quick sprint forward as he stopped in front of the Headmaster, appearing to teleport as his image came back into view, a grin on his face as he caught the coin. 

"Greetings Headmaster, I apologize for the late appearance. I have erected my own base of operation in Camelot, and it appeared that the passage of time was rather harshly different  in each of our planes of existence. However, I assure you I came at the mention of your plan finally coming to fruition, and you may assign me to whatever task you wish, I can without a doubt confirm that you will not find any of our allies to have the same skills I possess of infiltration and stealth."

"Hello, Headmaster Nealaphh!" IRIS decided to speak up as well, her voice coming from the half of Demetri's face that contained her metallic form. She spoke gleefully having never met the Prime before in person. "Thanks for sending Klee and Shen to retrieve my hard drive, I really appreciate it. My name is IRIS." she exclaimed, introducing herself. "Oh and then there is the female human over there, Ezrihel I believe she calls herself. I would be careful though I believe she is Succubus."

The God-Mind seemed to give a rather curious, or what could be assumed to be curious look as he tilted his head a bit, before Demetri waves his hand.

"Do not mind her, it appears she has a quarrel with my new acquaintance, she appears to have been quite... involved in her home world."He says as Ezzy seems to gives a slight distasteful look towards IRIS on his body, before brushing the comment off and returning to her calm and disinterested state of being, introducing herself in a very high manner, giving her respect to Nealaphh.

[Tearen Wover]

The sudden arrival of Demetri and his compatriot was certainly welcome, but ultimately it might not have mattered. At the scale they were choosing to fight, one or two more Primes in the available pool of power did not appreciably increase the odds. Not when they were attacking Volvagia almost completely head-on. Nealaphh would have, obviously, like a more indirect route that exploited a vulnerability in the Arch Dragon's defenses, but whether by natural forces, The Smiling One's hand, or Volvagia's sheer cunning, there was only one way to do this.

Nealaphh was aware that the group was being watched as it made its way up the final peak of Death Mountain. Flinty, gleaming eyes glared at them as they passed by ancient lava tubes and half-collapsed crags. As they grew closer and closer to the summit, the volcano seemed to respond to their presence. Great flashes of fiery light and gut shuddering rumbles wracked their every step, sending scree and small boulders tumbling down the treacherous path. Small, telekinetic nudged were all that was needed to prevent the rolling bastions away from the platoon.

With each step, their Goron guides grew more visibly nervous, until they crested a hill right before the peak itself dipped over. A stylized, jagged spiral with an arrow on its head was carved into a monolithic totem of stacked rocks. Their forward most Goron guide balked at the intangible threshold which stretched across the path, turning back and glancing at the fifty-odd people behind him.

"The point of no return. We step beyond this stone, and Volvagia's spawn will be upon us."

Nealaphh nodded, and turned to the rest of the Primes, hovering slightly to make itself more visible. It's cloaked silhouette against the fire of Death Mountain looked almost natural, as if such chaos and fire were the God-Mind's natural habitat.

Friends. Brothers. Allies. It is time we made the final commitment to our cause. Alpha Squad, hurry on ahead, and be quick about it. Beta will follow close behind. Gamma, you are to remain here and hold the line. I will not offer prayers to Gods or Fortune; it is our skill and our minds...our own Godhoods...that will see us through this day. Onwards.

With that, ten Primes surged forwards with all due haste, scrabbling up the black, crumbing rock face as they could manage. The instant they passed that stone totem, a droning, whistling howl seemed to wind its way out from the Mountain itself. Animal and Primal, the rallying cry of a thousand dragons pulsed in the air like the fevered beating of a titan's heart.

Half way up the path, Alpha and Beta Squads split, the ten Gorons laden with their most potent bomb flowers leading Nealaphh and its personal squad off to the right, towards a slivered wound in the side of the igneous wall that would have otherwise been missed.

With fated strides, Alpha crested the rim of the caldera, while Gamma squad prepared to keep their ground so far below. Even in the midst of all of this, the quiet focus of over a dozen Primes begging the attention the Omnivwrse, Nealaphh couldn't help but feel that it had...forgotten something important.

Joining the event is now closed. The threads for Alpha, Beta and Gamma will be up shortly.