Login

Tearen Wover · 05-18-2016, 10:35 PM

It had long been a firm belief, if not an absolutism, in Nealaphh's mind that godhood was not a measure of power, but of worship. Heroes and villains of incredible, earth-shaking power were scattered across the span of infinity like so many shells upon the distant shore. They came and went, taking their insufferable platitudes of friendship or nihilism with them, leaving no more of a mark upon their universe than the imprint of a cowrie in the sand, washed away in seconds by the ebbing tides of the temporal schism. No, it was not these individuals who were remembered. Frail, weak, disgusting specimens of countless species often found themselves at the pinnacle of some great artifice, the heads of their implacable disciples bowed in reverence. These living gods, they possessed no special abilities, no preternatural affinity for world-bending feats of destruction. They needed no such thing to garner the undying love of their chosen idol, and with this fervent host at their beck and call, such clods of flesh left an indelible legacy on the universe.

Woe betide those who would confront a combination of both the worshiped mortal and the bombastic paragon.

It was this train of thought that steamed across the God-Mind's psyche as it stopped to observe the draconic humanoids that had been so casually slain by its comrades. Though clad in very little, there was something consistent in their attire; a small amulet of polished glass, etched with the same insignia that had marked the point of no return on the path to the summit. Culture. Volvagia was no mere beast, despite how simple her mind might seem. She was a mother. A queen.

She was a goddess, and Nealaphh had thrown its loyal followers directly into her path.

Standing up from where it was crouching, Nealaphh called out to Okor through the communicator wired directly into its neural network. No response, not even from the artificial mind housed within the Plague Marine's armor. In keeping with the dawning comprehension, Nealaphh noted that the rumbles and quakes of battle had settled back into the normal, geological thrum of the mountain. There was only one conclusion; Volvagia had bested them. The shadow called out to Red Hood, Erik Vrell and Demetri who milled about nearby, planning their next movement.

We must go.

All three turned around in unison and stared at the Enigma with a hint of apprehension and confusion. Surely the implications must have already connected within their feeble heads, but predictably enough Red Hood spoke asked the obvious question anyway.

"Why?"

Nealaphh said nothing and swept past the now muttering Gorons, tracing the path they had so slowly been creeping along to get to this point. The mission was a scratch. The best they could hope for now was to save as many Gorons as possible before Volvagia either tired of its reverie or retreated. As painful as it was, Nealaphh conceded the prudence of responding to the vigilante.

Alpha has fallen. We need to protect the village.

"Will we even make it in time? It took us an hour to just get up the mountain!" Vrell said, spreading his arms wide. The foreman of the Goron technicians shot the psion a dirty look.

"Better to save some than none!" he growled, trundling around to follow the god-mind's footsteps. With nothing further to debate, Vrell and Hood fell in line, leaving only Demetri and his sentient body suit standing in the carrion-filled clearing.

"Creator...I'm not entirely sure participating in the defense is suited to our capabilities." IRIS chirped, a concerned tone. Demetri made a face that could best be described as frog-like before letting out a long winded sigh.

"Nealaphh came to rescue me from Nippur. The least we can do is check it out." the thief muttered, fingering the points of his spiked chains pensively. With that, the troupe was once again moving as a united pack, at an admittedly hurried shuffle.

The sky overhead seemed to cackle with sparking flame as Beta Squad reunited with Gamma. Their injuries were varied and grievous, to be sure. Harry Dresden hovered over Miranda's supine form as Connor and Colonel both sat on hunks of igneous slag, watching the comparatively unscathed subterfuge team approach. A flicker of jealously was perceptible in their collected consciousness, but more importantly, a sense of pride. If nothing else, at least one of the Squads had been successful.

Myriad corpses, too varied and mangled for words, littered the black battlefield. Some of the crumpled dragons still drew labored, ragged breaths, calling out for a mother who was too enraged to hear. Easily a thousand heaps of scaled carrion littered the landscape, their scales and half-lidded eyes glimmering like a sea of fireflies among the charred scree.

"We saw Volvagia, at least, I'm pretty goddamn sure it was Volvagia, fly down the mountain overhead. Didn't even glance at us. Alpha dead?" Connor asked. Normally Nealaphh would find the mercenary's particular bland of flippant dry humor to be bemusing, but the god-mind was far too rife with permutations and tactical estimations to appreciate the attempt at levity.

"Alpha dead." quipped Red Hood, responding on Nealaphh's behalf. The Enigma shot a thought over to Colonel.

You did not pursue?

"I did not wish to act without orders. On our own, engaging the primary target would have been suicidal, bordering pointless." the Navi fired back, a surprisingly sharp edge injected into his otherwise measured dialogue.

We're going after her.

"You're damn right we're going after her!" shouted one of the Gorons who had assisted in Gamma's defense. The rest of the Brothers murmured and nodded their prodigious craniums in agreement.

"What about...egh...Alpha?" Miranda grunted as Harry hauled her back onto her feet. Nealaphh paused and let this thought override its background tasks. Honestly, it hadn't even considered the need for a search and rescue attempt. Honestly, if, of all Primes, Okor had been killed, there was very little reason to suspect anyone else had.

They knew their mission might end in death. I won't abandon the Gorons in favor of potentially ridding a few Primes from minor inconvenience.

"Okay." Miranda said in a completely flat tone. It was rather hard to gauge just how the mysterious amputee felt from her tone and inflection alone, and Nealaphh did not have the brain power to spare to try and pry more directly into such a passing curiosity.

"Yeah, that's great, but we're all pretty spent here. I'm not really feeling dragon slaying right now." Harry said, folding the charred sleeves of his trench coat over one another.

Then do what you can to get the Gorons to safety. The priority has changed.

This was not entirely true. Nealaphh was still absolutely driven on the goal of ridding the Ashen Steppes of the Brood Mother once and for all, but appearance were critical at the moment. It could not afford to lose the Gorons as an ally, and abandoning them when it was clearly responsible for their impending slaughter would not go over well at all; not just for the Gorons, but the entire Omniverse. Being a savior was incredibly tedious.

We can't delay any longer. Make your choices.

A few minutes later, the total thirty Gorons and a handful of weary and, in some cases, nearly dying Primes began their descent from the summit. Without the need to stay on guard against the dragon swarms, their progress was swift, and the downhill hike allowed for easier travel. This especially suited the Gorons, who curled themselves into tight balls and subsequently started rolling right down the scorched side of the mountain like thundering boulders. Nealaphh could not fault them for feeling the need to get to the village, and if the god-mind had been in a slightly different circumstance, it make have adopted its avian form and joined their blitz.

Such bravado made no tactical sense at this point. They needed to operate as a group; it was the only way anything was going to be accomplished.

Some span of time later (Nealaphh wasn't in the mood to keep track), the combined forces of Beta and Gamma crested the final hill to be met only with a vista of flames. Volvagia made no attempts at subtlety as it looped and curled through the sky, woefully rending the Gorons' quaint mason-work huts to absolute ruin. Pain...no...absolute anguish radiated from the entire scene, wafting through the psychic medium and tickling the deeper, suppressed levels of Nealaphh's psyche. It was invigorating, intoxicating even, to pay witness to such destruction with wild abandon. It could feel the sorrow of Volvagia's bereft rage with every shattered wall, and it could feel the trembling, cathartic fear of the Gorons caught in the Arch Dragon's wake.

To say the village was in ruins was to implicate that there was any trace of it left at all. Between the naturally jagged stone of the Ashen Steppes and the pulverized piles of debris that had once been homes, farms, shops and more, it was impossible to distinguish what was artifice and what was natural. Gorons scattered like fat beetles among the ember soaked remnants of their domiciles, trying in futility to find some respite from the lashing flames of Volvagia's ire.

To be completely honest, the Enigma was more than slightly jealous of Volvagia. A strong part of the god-mind wished to join in the flagrant fracas, dancing amidst the tongues of flame and joining in the brazen percussion that so heralded a changing universe. Nealaphh was abruptly dragged from its enraptured awe as IRIS screeched a particularly emotive warning.

"DUCK YOU IDIOTS!"

Not a moment later, Volvagia screamed past overhead, and in the middle of its white-hot indignance, Nealaphh knew that they had been spotted. But there was something else that was primarily occupying the dragon's attention. Something that it both hated and feared. Even as Nealaphh made the deduction of what such a thing could be, Darunia rocketed forth from some heretofore unseen outcropping and collided with Volvagia in mid-air. The sheer bulk of his mineral mass, coupled with his gorilla-like build, saw the two veteran Primes tumble to the ground in a snarl of scale and shale. They landed among a plume of black soot, which exploded from the ground like its own living entity, coyly dancing around the ensuing showdown like a ghost, egging them on. Volvagia stood coiled, her mouth held agape as Darunia pounded his fists together with a thunderous bang. The Goron Chieftan launched himself like a bullet towards the Goddess of Drakes, but the clever predator caught him like a child's toy between her mighty mandibles and proceeded to fling Darunia off over the southern hillside.

Satisfied that the Chief had been dealt with for the moment, Volvagia's remaining eye slowly, deliberately rolled around to look upon the new Primes who dared to contend with her. Most of them smelled like the blood of her brood, not that Volvagia needed a reason to crush anything that dared challenge her.

Prepare yourselves.

Quote:Number of Rounds: 3
Word Limit: 1,500
Random Events: Off

Existing Damage and SP use stay

Posting Order: Volvagia, followed by Post Calling in this thread. Once Called, a writer has 1 hour to post.

Time Limit: Three Days, starting from Volvagia's last post.

Current Damage:

Harry Dresden:
4/20
SP: 0

Miranda Frost:
10/20
SP: 0

Colonel:
6/20
SP: 0

Connor Hound:
5/20
SP: 1

Red Hood:
15/20
SP: 2

Storyteller · 05-20-2016, 06:08 PM

Only a slim portion of the mountain, more specifically the lower shelving of glinting cinnabar stones and the crumbling staircases of boulders, had been discernible for the past hour amongst the roiling tumult of ash and smoke that pervaded the land. A vast, tumbling pile of rocks had fragmented over the side of the mountain, terrible sounds that would have made a thunder-clap quail in fear rumbling down the jagged slope to stir fear within the hearts and minds of the Goron village.

The Gorons recognized that their chieftain was not one to shrivel or shrink from frost or heat, but rather from the fear that some grievous harm might befall his people. It was with great trepidation that they watched as he abruptly stood still and straight, his eyes glittering with an unflappable, cool resolve while he looked upon the perpetually burning rise of Death Mountain.

Very briefly and with a minute roll of trembling, needling brightness, the dusky mountain wailed, a thin thread of glistening visceral sound that rose and fell wildly in pitch, desperate as the scream of a rabbit caught in the unmerciful talons of an owl. The numerous, palpitating shimmers of the fires freckling its ominous visage flared fiercely heavenward, as if swept up by one great, thrashing gust, before soundlessly dying into their lowly pits of coal, the mountainside all at once enveloped in an impenetrable blackness. A solemn Darunia raised one wide hand, his fingers spread rigidly and poignant in the gloom, and then let it fall.

In the moments following that strange, dark stillness up on the mount and Darunia’s signal, there was a mad rush amongst the Gorons to transport their valuables and babes to what they dearly hoped would be a safer distance, rocky footsteps and the creaky clattering of wheels wheedling across the plain. Wide vessels of water scattered about the domed roofs of the settlement gleamed smilingly skyward as the villagers hurriedly bustled, prepared to drown the fires that might take up quarrel with their homes.

Something like the burning scent of marigolds breezed through the town on a hushed wind, peppery and sweet, almost as if the glorious apex of the sky itself was afraid to speak of what was about to transpire. As how one who is running cannot help but spare a glance back towards that which they are fleeing from, the villagers cautiously watched the mountain as they worked, a whispered quiet wavering indecisively in the air, caught on some uncertain ground between awe and intimidation.

It would not be enough.

A pulse vibrated through the ground beneath their feet, potent enough to cause even the most dense village dwellers to stumble. Pebbles upon the ground, black as pepper-corn, jilted and skipped about as the tremors became more severe. A coarse, bracing wind pitched dust into the night. Like the dark shadow of a flame creeping across a page, catching alight in a ravenous ripple of orange-gold, the swirling billows of brackish mists above ruptured and burst; the fearsome dragon Volvagia sieved through, ghost-like, as if on the crimson red sails of a tremendous frigate anointed with scaly war-gear.

Every able-bodied villager took up arms, the dread within them quelled by a strengthened desire to defend their home. As the fire drake swept low over their houses, teeth the size of a dozen shining blades wreathed in the burning intensity leaking from its jaws, they began to run to and fro, directionless so as to present a more difficult choice of meal for the formidable beast. Footsteps reverberated like the beating of war drums in the resulting chaos, the Gorons' meager homes grievously scorched by the dragon’s breath, all the world swallowed up in a blazing, all-devouring inferno.

Cauterized rage gleamed a dangerous white within the pits of Volvagia’s eyes, the great helm fitted over its skull piercing through the thick and smoky air as its crusade of flame continued. The hallmarks of marauding destruction crackled and sizzled with every blackened toy or piece of furniture, the rock-strewn sinews of the ground splitting amid the round skeletons of stripped houses and places of gathering. With each new lingering spark of flame that sprang to meet the air, the Gorons observed with growing sorrow as their village was torn asunder.

The stagnant bloat of lava wallowed and surged up through cracks in the plain, voracious flames swirling high in the perpetual night. Volvagia shrieked, hastily thrown projectiles tumbling uselessly downward after striking its thick hide, oftentimes set alight as they fell so that they accelerated the process of setting the village to blazing.

Unseeing save for the small, hapless bodies of the most hated and very much despised Gorons, the serpent flew with its belly low to the ground, the living flame there tracing long, black wounds across the vista, a cobra stalking scarabs in the gasping aridity of the desert.

Burning thermal updrafts, cast out like fishermen’s nets amongst the chaos and destruction the dragon had gleefully wrought, ensnared the equally formidable anger of Darunia. His feet pounding across the blackened earth comparable in both intensity and strength to a diesel locomotive, the chiseled weight of his body sweltering a bright gold through the hissing and glaring of the flames, the Goron chieftain slammed into Volvagia and sent their combined weight careening off into the grime and grit, scrapping and struggling. It was akin to a sparrow pecking at the grasping claws of a hawk in appearance, but still the dragon cried out shrilly as pain wracked its serpentine body.

Unluckily, he was only able to distract the beast for but a moment, and soon the dragon’s weighted gaze swept round for a new mark after it has tossed the chieftain towards some sizzling knoll over yonder. A certain scent trickled within its glowing nostrils, an incessant and coppery smell that scalded and burned along the reason for its incensed frame of mind, and the massive lizard could never have resisted the fury-stricken madness that flared to vibrant life within its super-heated breast.

Dragonslayers.

Volvagia, the fires haloing its throat flaring angrily outward, regarded its new challengers with a beautifully menacing stillness. It was striking, snake-like loops spiraling as helixes of scattered firelight danced across them, the shifting scales covering its body built harder than any shield or armor the beast had known in its own land. Torch-like reflections etched along its golden claws, catching the light as they clasped reflexively.

Behind the twisting coils of its body the ebb and flow of hurtling flames brushed ever upward, cradling the supine form of the dark sky above and casting the serpent’s countenance in stark, malevolent detail. Coppery hazes of contrasting vapors wept and drizzled inside of its serrated maw as it unhinged, a shriek exploding outward in a nebulous, smoke-trailing charge that surged directly for the congregated Primes.

Quote:1165 words - Site.

Red-Hood · 05-21-2016, 01:37 AM

Red Hood watched the mighty dragon Volvagia fly around the decimated village of the Gorons. Red removed his helmet, placing his helm underneath his arm. With his free hand he wiped the drying tears from his face. The memory of Thor's corpse was still burned into his mind, or what was left of it. This damn dragon murdered his friend. Thor put his life on the line because he had said they should help this Nealapph, a being they knew nothing about.

No I can't think like that right now ,Red thought to himself, shaking his head lightly. This damned dragon would pay for killing his friend. Red placed his helmet back over his head before returning his gaze upwards. The dragon swooped down and plucked one of the many Gorons taking their final stand against the beast. Volvagia flew around in a figure eight before chucking the poor rockman into the distance. Red watched the dragon, memorizing it's flight pattern.

"Nealaphh! Distract the dragon!" Red yelled over the roaring beast.

Once he got a good understanding, Red broke into a sprint, heading towards the rocky mountain side wall.

Red began to climb. Nealaphh focused on the dragon and too Red's amazement the dragon sped up. It was if someone had pressed fast forward on a VCR tape. The dragon's roaring was now a high pitched squeal. Volvagia was confused and not accustomed to the extra speed it how had. The dragon crashed violently into the mountain, causing the mountain to shake and break free large boulders. A few of these hit the mighty dragon, but the great beast took no notice, she craned her head and angrily peered her head down below. With a great leap she opened her wings and began flying towards the primes lined on the ground.

Red had nearly been shaken from the cliff side when Volvagia had impacted, but he some how he was able to cling to the mountain's side. Red watched the dragon fly towards his allies has he prepared his insane plane. Red couldn't help bit smirk as he thought of his friend. He would be proud to see him perform the crazy stunt he was about to attempt.

As the dragon flew nearer Red leapt from the mountain.

"For Asguard!!!" Red screamed. The foreign battle cry that Thor always screamed filled him with bravery as he soared through the air. He could almost feel his presence, as if he was there.

Red landed hard onto the dragon's scaly back. Hard. So hard he bounced off and began to slide. Red nearly slipped completely off until his hand caught one of Volvagia's spikes that ran down her spine. Red pulled himself into a more balanced position as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Volvagia didn't feel or notice Red's harsh landing on her scaly exterior. He began to slowly make his way to the head of the dragon, pulling his knife out as he went.

The dragon drew closer to his allies, she reared her head back and roared with joy as she opened her jaws wide and aimed for the line of primes. Red quickly drove his knife into the eye socket of the beast.

The roar of agony that bellowed from Volvagia's throat could be heard for miles. She shook her head succumbing to the pain as she rose into the air. Red tried to hang on but the violent shaking of the dragon's head proved to be too much for the vigilante.

Red felt air rush past him as he fell towards the ground.

This is it, at least I'm going out fighting, he thought as he closed his eyes, smiling. Maybe he would see Thor in Valhalla, whatever the hell that is.

Tearen Wover · 05-21-2016, 08:59 PM

Twelve seconds into the final showdown with Volvagia and things were already starting to go off the rails. As the assembled Primes dashed in all directions, Nealaphh remained perfectly still, watching Volvagia’s movements carefully. She was everything a goddess should be, a ruthless combination of fast, nigh invincible, utterly deadly, and cunning. It was a combination that was found more often in the universe than most of the mundane races might care to admit. There was one thing she lacked, however.

The coiling, screeching wyrm, after shaking Red Hood off of her cowl, immediately curled towards the god-mind in a seamless transition from defense to offense. It was not immediately apparent how effective Red Hood’s attempt to blind the Arch Dragon had been, but for now Nealaphh had to assume she had it in her sights. Apex predators are so very predictable; however hackneyed it might be, their overconfidence was easily their undoing. As Volvagia surged through the spot where Nealaphh had just been standing, her jaws clamped down on nothing but an ephemeral black smoke.

Assessing the situation, the god-mind decided it was prudent to ensure that Red Hood not die so early on. There was but one way to ensure his safety, and so the acrid cloud flew towards the plummeting mercenary, enveloping him the moment before impact. Basalt debris and embers exploded outwards from the impact site, a solid cloud of ash obscuring the outcome of Red Hood’s grisly fate.

All at once, the umbral shroud was blown away, as if a violent wind had driven the pervasive soot outwards. There was no such breeze. At the epicenter of the crater stood a new being. At first glance, one might assume it was just Red Hood covered in ash, but upon closer look, they would see that mercenary’s clothing and armor had taken on a black iridescence, almost like a gleaming puddle of oil. A third eye had cracked open on his mask, the three gleaming slits of light now emitting a violent green color. Perhaps most remarkably, however, were the immense, black, feathered wings that unfurled on his back.

Meanwhile, the man, Jason Todd was coming to grips with his newfound understanding of the cosmos. With Nealaphh bonded to him, everything seemed infinitely more clear. Every eddie of smoke, every crumbling hut, could be predicted and mapped. He could feel the god-mind inside his head, but it was not an oppressive feeling. It was more liberating than anything he had ever felt, as if the entire back of his skull had been pried open, allowing the component songs of reality to funnel directly into his conscience.

Nealaphh was learning new things too; the complexities and depths of the man it now knew to be called Jason Todd. A rich, deep personal history that the god-mind wished it had time to review in detail. What was important, however, was that the Enigma could feel the raw physical capability of Red Hood, as well as something more. Something deep and dark. An inner wellspring of power, not often tapped. What was this word, Lazarus? Faint memories of a viridian pool, shock, and confusion. Nealaphh could feel the latent energies of this eldritch encounter lingering within Jason’s bones. It needed only a small push to be released. A predatory scream, which now seemed so much less august, drew The God Hood’s attention back to the moment at hand.

Outwardly, the God Hood’s inky black form became enveloped in a boiling, green light. Obviously this made him a very attractive target for the Arch Dragon. Again, Volvagia careened towards what she desperately wanted to be easy prey. A keening energy began to gather in her mouth, which to the God Hood, seemed to be happening in slow motion. Jason Todd watched as the very fabric of space lensed outwards in front of them, a rippling bubble, expanding to its full size right as the dragoness unleashed a nearly solid line of white fire at where they stood, accompanied by what could be compared to an unending thunderclap. A deep rumbling could barely be perceived over this cacophony, as the hyperbolic shield simply refracted the searing beam in all directions.

The God Hood could sense the dragon’s mixture of consternation and bewilderment at the concept that one of her indignant blasts hadn’t even phased the vermin. Despite her seething rage, the strafing attack had really been a token effort on her part. Clearly the sort of straightforward brutality that had worked on the fools at the summit was not going to be effective against this particular scrap of flesh. She would need time to formulate something to catch The God Hood off guard. In the mean time, there were other fish to fry. With an abbreviated howl, Volvagia swerved to the left and set her sights on the other Primes.

The God Hood reviewed his options. While he could certainly withstand a great ordeal of punishment, there was not much in its arsenal that was well suited to breaching the diamond carapace that was Volvagia’s hide. Two pistols, knives, batarangs, and a slew of exotic, impressive, yet not entirely potent attacks that Nealaphh brought to the pairing. Causing the dragon to smash into the side of the cliff face had certainly been effective the first time, but he was not certain that such a tactic would work repeatedly. Any attacks that they did attempt would have to capitalize on the already present holes, nicks and crevices that presented themselves on Volvagia’s writhing, flaming body.

The God Hood watched patiently as the Dragon Queen tormented his compatriots; Demetri narrowly diving out of the reach of her claws...Miranda hunkering down behind the remains of a statue as hellfire rained down on her. He could feel their collective panic, and their confusions as to why the Prime fusion just stood there watching as the rest of them suffered. The simple truth was that there was no point until an opportunity presented itself. There was a new game afoot, and he could tell that Volvagia knew this. Both of them were biding their time.

Jason had been on the right track with his initial attempt to debilitate Volvagia’s remaining eye. This fight was not going to be won by attempting to overcome the dragon with raw power. For all the good that would do, they may as well have tried to each individually arm wrestle her into submission. It was possible that Volvagia’s arms could serve as a weak point, but The God Hood doubted that crippling them would do anything more than have a tertiary impact on her combat abilities. There was also a very conspicuous gaping wound in her left flank that Alpha had managed to create before being slain. Based on her body movements, the fused Primes could tell that she was intentionally keeping the breach out of the line of fire. This was easy, since the rest of the remaining dragon slayers had all bunched up in an attempt to unify their remaining power. That was the wrong game. It was time to capitalize on Volvagia’s one weakness.

Split up. Surround the dragon so that someone can be attacking that breach on her left flank at all times.

The telepathic missive reverberated through the frenzied minds of The God Hood’s allies. How quick they would be to respond to the suggestion was a matter entirely out of his hands, but at least some attempt to organize their efforts was being made. In the meantime, he may as well try to take some of the pressure off of them. The God Hood reached into his coat and withdrew a small, cylindrical flashbang grenade, tossing it lazily towards the Arch Dragon. Using his telekinetic prowess, the fusion held it just behind the crest of her helmet. With this, he took one of his pistols in two hands and carefully squeezed off a series of pot shots, sustaining fire just long enough to get Volvagia to look his way for but a moment. Each bullet ricocheted off of the iron mask, ferrous sparks bouncing off into nothingness with each whizzing impact.

Flash bang. Avert your eyes. he called out.

When she did finally rear her head in fury, her raging gaze focused on a bizarre cylinder hovering right at eye level. In the next instant, everything was white.

Now would be a good time to move.

Quote:1402 Words according to Google Docs

1 SP Used for Lazarus' Blessing
2 SP Used for Symbiotic Fusion

Stat Array: 6/7/5/9

6/9 SP Remain

Moves Used:

Warp Burst
Flash Bang Grenades
Dual Pistols

Albert Wesker · 05-23-2016, 11:23 AM

"I feel I should point out the obvious and state that our continued existence in this particular incarnation is looking to end very shortly, sir," the synthesized voice of Cricket piped up from Colonel's PET. The flat, emulated cheerful tone he was constantly saddled with did nothing to hide the worry in his words, and after a moment, he simply added, "I have created a virtual backup of myself on the Dataverse. Should we die and this PET be destroyed, I will be waiting for you to respawn again, in hopes that you do so. All memories from this point on will be lost, as you know quite well, so please do try not to say anything too important."

"....now really isn't the time for humor," the solvier-navi cut in quite bluntly. "Things are much worse than anticipated."

"Yes, I'm quite aware. You're at less than half of normal fighting strength. Much less, in fact. You have critical damage and system abnormalities in multiple places, and only your combat system bypasses are keeping you functioning well enough to continue this insane debacle. It would be remarkable, if it weren't so... What is the word....likely to end up pointless."

"....regardless of how likely or unlikely something is, it isn't a given one way or another. We've come this far, and caused this beast to wake up and rampage. No one with any conscience could just leave it be without even trying to stop it."

"One might almost think you were trying to be a hero, with that kind of thinking, sir."

"They'd be wrong."

The cybernetic soldier lapsed into silence as he bore witness to the devastation and wrath of the arch dragon of the steppes. It seemed much less like a living thing, and much more akin to a literal force of nature. The already blistering heat of the steppes, especially near the volcanic Death Mountain, had risen to an all-new level, the air positively choked with ash and searing heat, embers and motes of molten earth and rubble making it a chaotic, hellish scene.

"We don't have enough firepower for this...not in a conventional fight," Colonel noted to no one in particular. "Not with how beat up we are." A swift flick of his saber, bringing it up to bear and looking ready to immediately leap into battle regardless, immediately followed his words. "....and so we'll have to resort to other methods."

The blade of his saber immediately flared up with a brighter glow, casting flickering emerald sparks about him in a wild profusion, throwing his entire body into a shroud of green and shadow. His heaviest firepower was locked, a precaution to stop him from overtaxing his system to too large a degree, but he still had enough to hopefully put at dent in this monstrosity.

He didn't make his move right away. He waited for his allies to do that, most of them being more nimble than he was, especially in his damaged state. He merely leveled off the blade of his primary weapon at the rampaging dragon, staring it down with his usual unflinching, steel-hard expression. If he held any fear about bringing the sights of such an overwhelming force to himself, he gave no indication of it. Fear was one of the kinder things you could feel...it let you know when you should be worried, when you were in danger, when you should run, or at least be cautious. It was tied directly into self-preservation and the instinct to keep oneself safe.

Every such 'kind' emotion and the capability to ever experience them had been forcefully ripped out of Colonel.

But before his lack of such a feeling could land him in a very poor situation, he heard the telepathic voice of the God Hood echo in his mind. It was a sound move, to exploit a weak point. And his sword arm slowly lowered from its ready state, and he immediately broke off to one side, breaking into his long-paced, almost lumbering stride. His movement was slow, but steady and sure, taking him along in bounds and short hops as much as actual strides, cutting a wide circle around the field of devastation. To a casual observer, it might have even looked like he was actively fleeing.

But when the call about the flash bang went out, he cut his path at a sharp angle, vaulting over the blasted-out husk of one of the stonework huts of the gorons, and vanished from sight amid the blinding flash of the grenade.

For several long seconds, the synthetic warrior seemed to have disappeared entirely. The dragon let its fury be known, even in its temporarily blinded state, and its perceived prey did their best to harry and combat it as their assorted capabilities allowed.

It was at that point that careful eyes would finally see Colonel make his appearance once again, making a powerful leap up out of a cloud of ash, sailing several meters up to land with a ponderous crash atop what was left of cliff overlooking the skeleton of the village below. His sword raised up again, the end of the blade pointing at the dragon. The blade abruptly flickered and sputtered, shutting off entirely, and from the emitter, a burst of energy erupted, along with a cascade of sparks.

Like a miniature emerald comet, it flashed through the heat-hazed air, and collided with the arch dragon's armored hide to no immediately noticeable effect. It splintered in an explosion, throwing sparks and streaming remnants of expended plasma in all directions, and drawing an irritated, withering growl from the so-called deity, who immediately rounded on him.

And immediately, a hail of gunfire, a veritable storm of small bolts of plasma, tore apart the air between the arch dragon's left side and the shattered hut Colonel had dove behind earlier. An individual shot would have been less than an ant bite to the mighty dragon. Even the withering spray of fire currently assaulting it would have hardly been worth notice. But sheer volume of fire saw more than a handful of the normally inconsequential bolts of energy struck the terrible wound in the dragon's side, drawing far more than simple irritation from the great beast.

And as the hail of gunfire kept the beast distracted, Colonel once again brought the massive tank-gun that was the Colonel Cannon back to bear, bracing the heavy weapon on his shoulder. A mighty, screeching roar rent the entire battlefield, and the arch-drake whirled about, coiling in on itself to keep its wound from being exposed to the withering hail of plasma fire any longer, and drawing a deep breath, no doubt readying a devastating blast of flame within its maw to incinerate the soldiers summoned by the cyber-soldier.

And just as it spread its jaws to let forth its deathly breath, the signature, deafening crash of the colonel cannon's firing sounded, and an explosion engulfed the back of the drake's head in a plume of smoke and shrapnel.

Quote:1211 words, according to the on-site word counter.

Moves used:
Colonel Army (rifle variant)
Charge Shot
Colonel Cannon: Impact:

Erik Vrell · 05-24-2016, 07:49 AM

Volvagia's fury echoed throughout the steppes, shaking the earth itself. Erik had faced difficult battles and possible death before, but this was a whole different beast. Fear penetrated deep down into the very core of Erik's being, shaking him to his soul. Staring down the drake wasn't like looking death in the face, it was more like facing down an apocalypse. Volvagia was few and rage given form.

Roused by the telepathic alerts of Nealaphh, Erik turned away from the cylinder and covered his eyes. The resulting bang was deafening and Erik ears rang as Volvagia raged blindly above him. Erik knew that most of his weaponry was useless at this distance, so he sheathed his sword. Violet mist poured from the sleeves of Erik's cloak and gathered in his hands. The energy crackled as it formed a ring in his hand and hardened. When the chakram had duly formed in his hand, the psychic pulled his arm back and tossed the ring like a child would toss a frisbee. The violet ring sped towards the dragon, only the ricochet off of her scales on impact and soar off into the horizon.

Refusing to be discouraged, Erik flung chakram after chakram at the drake, to little effect. Growing desperate, Erik attempted to hit any vulnerable spot he could. He fired at her eyes, her mouth, her underbelly, but nothing managed to scratch the drake. While he doubted that he could actually harm the beast, but he stubbornly continued his assault, desperately hoping to land a proper strike.

Storyteller · 05-24-2016, 11:45 PM

Brands of fire streamed from Volvagia’s mouth, enraged sparks spluttering outward to dance upon the jagged plain. A scream of fury blown far across the landscape sent infernal vibrations shuddering through the air, the frenzied beast hardly registering the innumerous and trifling attacks that continued to pelt its side.

The long spirals of the serpent’s length were sinuously scaly, ripped open in minuscule patches, and oozing viscous lifeblood. Even under such apparent duress, its proud head stayed wholly fixated on the scattered Gorons, grinning maw golden and gleaming by the glare of a million torches, monolithic against the roiling sky. The winged figure with obsidian-glass skin seemed to absorb all of the light from Volvagia’s guttering fires, desiccated silt and glossy hazes churning up around it in a sanguine mess that obscured it from the drake’s every breath, but the Maker and Destroyer continued to try and set it aflame nonetheless.

That is, until agony struck like a cannon blast across the skeletal ridges of Volvagia’s helm, the world churning in a swirl of molten gold and green so bright that it was painful to look upon. A shrieking whisper of pain, paradoxical and terrible and burning into the divinity of its skin, surged throughout its already overextended nerves. Gusts stung like knives against its injured side, ichor trailing in thick, heat-radiating streaks along its unspooling body.

All at once, Volvagia was rendered mostly blind, its eye sockets dribbling with all the brightness of morning and the remnants of the flash bang grenade. The lower steppe was soft, ground down into a gorged bed of fire and embers by the dragon’s rampage. Nonetheless, something crunched beneath its coiled mass as it messily crashed to the ground. The burned wrecks of homes, no doubt having succumbed to crackling, fiery ruination.

An insistent frequency defined the writhing movements of the fire drake, its confidence upended by the sinister darkness that blotted out its vision. Unseen enemies, shivering about in the resulting cataclysmic tremors that ruptured through the ground, circled ceaselessly and struck with blows that had the great beast thrashing with an undercurrent of disbelief that was indescribably hard to swallow.

Sharper than any blade, a screech that was both high and thin rent the air, causing the head of any sentient thing within the Steppes to ring. Slavering trails of gelatinous sludge and napalm flared fiercely within its wide-stretched maw, the serpent’s jaws endowed with far too many teeth for one living creature. The sclera of one eye burned a bright white, pulsing with a vicious, feral light that squirmed in living tendrils about its ridged snout at last affixing resolutely upon the God Hood.

While it could not see its most perplexing adversary thus far, Volvagia had a very unsettling notion that it had just been bumped down a tier on the food chain. Or, rather, that it finally had something settled comfortably upon the highest rung alongside it.

This was good. Volvagia was not opposed to a challenge, every now and again, though it was accustomed to having the advantage belong to itself alone.

Unseeing, the world stirring around it like the augmented depths of a boiling cauldron, Volvagia could still smell the acrid stench of sweat and desperation that trailed its opponents. Its thoughts slackening to a meticulous, magma-like crawl as it considered its options, Volvagia mercilessly snapped and snarled at the lesser Primes with its great mouth ringed about with fearsome, scintillating fangs.

It was seemingly all for naught, unfortunately. The Primes it was dueling were far, far too nimble-footed, and although Volvagia would have laughed at every attempt made to pierce the impermeable shields tightly wound over its body, its tail looped fast and secretively around one wounded side in a haphazard effort to shelter it from their attacks. Enraged and in pain, Volvagia wrenched itself instinctively downward, homes and boulders alike crumbling like eggshells beneath the sheer immensity of its plunging, serpentine form.

Firelight sighed through vortexes of hazy mists and dense storm clouds of ash, shredding in acrid spikes across Volvagia’s fluid spine so that it seemed more like a bizarre, luminiferous eel than a dragon. Its skull crashed hard into the heat-cracked trough below it, a burst of jewel-like lava and gaseous fumes spewing forth as the dragon burrowed within the resulting cloud of dust to evade the onslaught of the Primes, the membranous tendrils that shifted along its sides receding below the sooty plumes.

A roar like the tearing of tissue, awful and sickening and wet, cascaded down from directly above a cluster of Goron villagers still attempting to abdicate their homes. Overcome with a quaint desire to defend, the Gorons swarmed about below the wyrm's undulating, copper-tinted coils like a horde of particularly hard-edged ants, their collective fright stampeding across the ground and whipping up an immeasurable morass of smoke.

Volvagia allowed for the small group of Goron secondaries to run hither and thither for a moment, desperately searching for a way to slip between the tightly-packed barricades of its scales. Unluckily, they found themselves to be thoroughly ensnared, the malevolent gleam of Volvagia’s helm hovering in ill-omened bemusement.

Struggling against the coils with fists and weapons had no effect— they only wound tighter still, constricting like some kind of gargantuan ball python, and the hot drag of the fire drake’s breath made their prison fierier than any oven they had ever known. Masses of cannibalistic flames, tangled and warring against one another to lap within the colossal noose-shaped Sicilian Bull the dragon had created, sizzled and popped along the underside of Volvagia’s belly.

The villagers’ terror was a crescendo that built and built, overloading the dragon with a rush that shivered under its iridescently scaled hide. Tumorous cracks cut into their forms, the energy siphoned off from their failing bodies feeding into the drake’s ravenous flames but not consumed by them outright. Though the knitting together of fibrous tissue was sensitive and prickly along Volvagia’s twisting flank, it did something to reduce the rising frenzy in the massive beast’s mind, acting as a salve for its discomfort.

Satiated at last, the fire drake’s throat hummed with a chain of low, contented clicks.

“Hey, grass snake!” was all the warning Volvagia received before what felt like the entire roof of a home careened through the air and slammed right into the side of its face, cracking outward in a hail of fragmented tiles and slate.

The dragon jerked its head backward and uncoiled, a pained hiss curling out from its fiery nostrils in thin, greyish strands of smoke. A hemorrhage of light crackled to life behind its eyes like a dozen firecrackers, incandescently intense and shattering whatever relief Volvagia had drawn from the Gorons. Said group of unfortunate stone people wisely fled while the immense reptile was distracted by whoever had flung the piece of roofing.

And there, with his arm still upraised from heaving the slab of rock towards its head, was Darunia. Once again, the Goron chieftain had managed to come barreling out of nowhere and take the fire drake by surprise. Volvagia snarled savagely, an interminable smolder building within its breast and culminating into the orange-gold fire that sieved out from between its jaws, prismatic gleams quavering across its scale-clad hide as it readied another jet of flame.

Yet, instead of engaging Darunia directly, the colossal wyrm swept upwards into flight. Ruddy embers ignited viciously in long, redly glowing streaks across the ground, spiraling behind Volvagia as it trailed skyward and merrily left destruction in its wake.

Senses concentrated into a perfect arrowhead of focus, Volvagia continued to articulate its grand design upon the landscape. Effluent cinders wept in purplish heaps in countless balding spots across the plain, wretchedly lacking in enough potency to rouse themselves from their eddying slumber. Visibly absorbed by whatever task it sought to perform, Volvagia deftly wove throughout the bruise-colored clouds in all its golden-scaled glory, caring not for whatever projectiles were pitched its way.

With a discharge of fire streaming forth from its lungs, the wind-scattered and feeble piles of ashes were kindled anew; bright flares mapped a constellation across the stygian darkness of the Ashen Steppes, snaking soundlessly about the footprint of Death Mountain.

Soundlessly, save for the rising miasma of blistering heat and drooping terrain.

Quote:1,385 words - wordcounter.net

The Rogue · 05-27-2016, 11:03 AM

The Beast was ravenous, but Harry was able to calm it down and turn it back to Connor. Connor nearly passed out after the transformation, but he still had enough energy and drive to continue. The horde was either dead or mortally wounded, so the job was done. The group then decided to wait for their employer.

During the wait Connor decided to let his mind wonder, he also summoned in his SCAR and a newer weapon, a modified Serbu Super Shorty. He reached into his memory and mulled over the events that have recently passed. He hardly remembers the initial transformation and how he got out of the gullet of the wyrm, but after that everything was clear as day. The primal rage of the Beast scared Connor, he didn't know that was in him. To say the least, he traumatized himself. He remembers biting down into the flesh of a drake, the taste of the flesh and blood was still fresh in his mouth. What scared the mercenary more was that he enjoyed the taste of Dragon flesh, in fact he wanted more. His stomach gurgled softly, and he was about to excuse himself to find some more Dragon meat, but then Nealpph and the rest of Beta Team had arrived.

Connor stood and asked a few questions, trying to keep the mood light. The rest of the party didn't necessarily catch it. After that they started to head toward the Goron village to help the rest of the villagers. As they group crest a large ridge Connor starts to reload his guns. Slapping the respective magazines into the proper guns and even loading 3 Devastator shells into his shotgun. He holsters both of his pistols and his shotgun. He charges the SCAR and slaps the first bullet into place.

He doesn't attack right away, but he runs into the burning village to help the villagers escape. He immediately finds a mother and her children. They are trapped in their own burning home by a pillar that is on fire. Connor uses his jacket sleeves to protect his hands from the flames and pushes the pillar away from the door. He kicks it down, sending a small plume of embers and ash. He yells to the family,

“This way!”, he even holds his hand out for them. He pulls the to safety and goes to lead them out of the village. Volvagia swoops down from above, and as the arch dragon dives down , she lets out a gout of her fire. Connor gets the family down and fires at the dragoness. She circles back to the group of Primes, and continues her onslaught. Connor gets to the outskirts of the village and has the family there. He looks at the arch dragon, and gets ready to go back into the village. Then a bright flash happens, Connor is somewhat blinded by it, but he quickly blinks away the black dots swimming in his vision. He was out of range for Nealpph’s warning, but he was still far enough to not experience the worse effects. He shakes off the swimming dots and goes back into the village to rescue the rest of the trapped Gorons.

Quote:536 according to Google docs

Tearen Wover · 05-28-2016, 12:14 PM

Serenity.

It was an odd feeling to be experiencing when facing down almost certain doom. The fire and dark jubilance of the Ashen Steppes was soothing to the God Hood, harkening back to the sort of cosmic disarray that Nealaphh and its ilk sought to perpetuate. The God Hood could almost hear faint strains of music, the staccato plucking of string instruments and the discordant piping of flutes, as it watched Volvagia twist and writhe into a nosedive towards the ground, intent on blasting all those below in an encompassing bath of purging flame. Somehow, The God Hood had expected more from the Arch Dragon than just the same repetitive tactics over and over. Perhaps superiority had bred complacency within Volvagia’s tactics over the decade of her presence here. Perhaps she really was much more simple minded than the God Hood had wanted to give her credit for.

What was obvious, however, was that Volvagia was quite used to using her dextrous and blinding powers of flight to hold absolute supremacy over the battle. Being able to fight in the full breadth of three dimensions offered the Arch Dragon far more options than her standard, grounded fare, and as any good Enigma would say, the chances of victory correlate directly with the number of choices someone leaves for themselves. Now, however, Volvagia was not the only one who could sustain powers of flight. Staring defiantly up at the coiling wyrm, The God Hood closed its eyes and allowed itself to be bathed in the brilliance of Volvagia’s fire. Yes, there was pain, but pain was only a system of notification. When one tries to ignore their injuries, their danger, pain only increases. Only by accepting the injuries, the desiccation, the flaying of flesh, and cherishing the experience, could one overcome their reflex to cower under such punishment.

The important part, however, was that in her own attempt to broil the God Hood and anyone else nearby, Volvagia had quite thoroughly obscured the fused Prime from sight; even her own fell gaze. The God Hood could feel its quantum location in time and space come unrooted the second the pyroclastic bombardment flooded over its ebon form, and in the blink of an eye, it took advantage of this uncertainty to teleport into the self-same plumes of smoke that drifted lazily over the remnants of Goron Village. Fire still flickering from its form, the God Hood plunged downward through the clouds, his green eyes flaring brilliantly as it observed Volvagia’s attack from behind the dragon herself. With just a modicum of mental strain, The God Hood once again accelerated the Dragon Queen’s transit through time to the point where her diving attack sent her crashing straight into the unforgiving ground of the Ashen Steppes.

Following the cacophonous impact, the stunned Volvagia reared around and glared up at the God Hood. It was almost impossible for the Dragon Queen to comprehend someone executing a sneak attack on her magnificence from the air itself. Her jaws opened swiftly and shrieked a challenge at the God Hood, who still descended directly towards her, wings folded in a diving position. Let the obsidian skinned fool come at her then! Just as she was about to fire another blistering line of death up at her foe, the God Hood came to an abrupt halt in mid air and slowly raised a hand towards Volvagia. No...wait...not at she herself, but the ground behind her.

It was all according to the God Hood’s plan. Perhaps he himself could not significantly harm Volvagia all at once, but that had never been Nealaphh or Red Hood’s primary role in a fight. As a manipulator of time and space, and a covert assassin respectively, both Primes best functioned as force multipliers. With Volvagia standing on the black earth, even for a moment, it opened her up to yet more of the God Hood’s sinister trickery. There came a rumbling crack as the force of gravity itself was distorted beneath Volvagia’s snakelike form. With a confounded screech, the Arch Dragon found the core of her body overwhelmingly bound to the mundanity of the earth, held helpless by one of the fundamental forces of nature.

Concentrate Fire.

The surge of gravitational forces did not last terribly long, but it was long enough for the other Primes present to lay into the immobile form of Volvagia just long enough to further deepen the weeping, glowing wound in her left flank. The God Hood’s whole body shook, the green light which danced along its skin flickering and flaring with the concentrated effort. More. He needed more power, more of this power of Lazarus. After a few seconds, however, the strain on his body became too much, and he was forced to release the Arch Dragon from her gravitic purgatory. With a yelping scream, she scrambled along the black stone of the Ashen Steppes with her foreclaws for a moment before slowly rising up into flight once more. The God Hood could taste something in her mind that it had not felt in the Arch Dragon before; fear. For all her raw might and terrible wrath, it was beginning to seem as though this fight had been evened out far more than she was comfortable with.

Even as she snaked her way through the air, she looked back to see the God Hood tracking her, flitting between the heavy clouds as she herself had done just moments prior. His wings were spread like a gliding bird of prey, waiting with the patience of a raptor for the opportune time to strike. In the span of less than ten seconds, Volvagia’s options in this fight had been diminished significantly. There was no telling when the God Hood would once again compel the Omniverse itself to turn against her.

From his place among the clouds of the Steppes, the God Hood was incredibly pleased with himself. Though Volvagia seemed to be able to sustain an almost indefinite amount of physical punishment, she was not above being pressured into a stalemate. He watched, with keen eyes, as Connor Hound helped remaining Gorons flee into the relative safety of the village’s caves. It was good that at least one of them was keep the priorities of this fight at the forefront of their mind. Volvagia may have done quite a bit of damage, but already her victory had been made less than absolute. Based on the Arch Dragon’s overwhelming sense of vanity and superiority, the God Hood had no doubt that this in and of itself would be enough to severely injure her psyche for a long time.

Or, perhaps, she would just allow her fury to burn a fiery hole where the shame might otherwise be, and become even more of an animal. In light of either possibility, the God Hood would be prepared, always five steps ahead...

Quote:1150 Words according to Google Docs

1 SP Used for Lazarus' Blessing
2 SP Used for Symbiotic Fusion

Stat Array: 6/7/5/9

3/9 SP Remain

Moves Used:

Quantum Uncertainty
Temporal Jaunt
Gravity Distortion

Demetri Malius · 05-29-2016, 01:00 AM

Flutters of ash and cinders fell through the air as a flicker of movement caused a draft of wind to swirl them around, an invisible force that swept through the shadows, even in the orange hue of magma and fire. The light danced around the figure as it swept through the air, the rattling of metal sounding along as it struck some nearby surface, a chip in the rock blasting away before landing in a nearby pool of burning lava. Stressed chains held their weight and more as a spark of blue hinted in the air, the action of movement having the figure give up its complete stealth only for a moment. Although quite mobile, the figure was not adept at quite attacking such vast enemies like the fiery dragon that hovered above him, where the God-Mind had fused with one of their allies to ensure further defense and offense against the beast.

Then, as the combination of attacks from the attacking front managed to weaken the primal being for just a moment, the Headmaster, in his new form, took her out from the sky, bringing her to the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust while small spurts of magma sprouted from the new crater in the Ashen. The cloaked figure would rush forward as the dragon recovered, a chain shooting up from the ground as the beast took to the air once more, though not yet out of reach. A glint of silver flashed at the figure whipped forwards, another flicker of color beyond the shades of red as the dragon reared its head and spewed forth flame, the now visible chains glowing orange from the heat of the flames that barely missed its target.

All at once the figure came into view, in the same moment as another screech sounded in the air from the dragon, a shining steel blade plunged into the fiery wound in its side, the bright orange light showing the face of the thief that dealt the blow. His already black leather garments seemed even darker from being singed at the edges, a sign of more than one close call, his gloved hand gripping the hilt of the stolen short sword that he had taken from the armory of Nippur in his previous battle. Glowing, blue lines shone through his black armor from the secondary that had bonded to him, a lifeline that calculated his each and every move. The lines continued throughout his body, even covering half his face with a combination of metal and wires, a glowing blue monocle that gave him more information about his surroundings and target , hidden beneath a dark hood and masked face. His eyes showed no mercy, a will to survive and defeat his target, the piercing gray illuminated by both the circuitry that enveloped his body and the flames that made up the beast. With a twist, he pulled the blade out of the wound, the blade melting at the edges from the heat, no longer able to perform its duty properly.

The thief's eyes narrowed as he took a moment to examine the blade, before an alert to his senses forced him to jump back, off of the beast named Volvagia, in order to save himself from yet another burst of flames. The thief attempted to keep his chained bond to his target, but the intense heat quickly forced the chained to become brittle, as a moment later, the thief plummeted down at least 30 feet to the rock below, smacking it hard as he rolled to a stop , managing to keep on his feet. Even though he lessened the fall by using his chains and rolling to defuse the force, he felt his body ache from the impact, his breath rapid from the single attack that he managed to make. Such effort needed to make a single blow.

"The chains of your left arm should be fully regenerated in six seconds, Creator, your current weapon is heavily damaged, and will most likely not survive another blow., Currently, our inventory only composes of a single buckler from Nippur's armory. I am attempting to reroute some omnilium to focus on your own weaponry, but I cannot guarantee that they will be ready by the end of this fight if we happen to survive it."

"And what exactly do you believe our chance of survival to be, IRIS?" the thief spoke aloud to his attached secondary, pulling off a glove for a moment as he examined his hand, blisters having formed from being so close to the heat.

"Around three percent, but we shall still attempt to take down Volvagia, correct?"

"Indeed, we shall," Demetri replied aloud, a deadpan tone as he slipped the glove back on his hand with a pained grunt. "Headmaster Nealaphh had provided me with information and attempted to aid me in Nippur, I shall return the favor. Though I am a guilt-ridden thief, that doesn't mean I have no honor at all for those who have come to my aid. Now, allow us to cause some more distress for this vile beast?"

"Of course, Creator, supercharging your omnilium reserves for duplication, will commit assigned reserves in seven seconds. Six. Five..."

The thief sprinted forward, readying his chains once more as he approached the beast once again, the others already making their own attacks on it. He awaited the countdowns of his chain regeneration and his charged omnilium ability, calculating his future movement and routing his attack.

"Four."

He climbed began to climb up a heap of rocks and stone, avoiding dripping bits of molten rock and steam as he gained more altitude, hoping to get as close to the beast as possible.

"Three."

He was close. The beast flew in the air just ahead of him, his chains would barely reach. A cliff was laid before him, If he didn't time this right, he would plummet at least a hundred feet down.

"Two."

With a few steps back the thief found his footing, taking a deep breath before rushing forward once more, pushing himself as his foot left the edge of the cliff, a leap of faith for his capability.

"One."

Numerous chains shot out simultaneously as one thief became five, all aimed towards the flying fortress as they hooked one, one by one, splitting off into different directions as they swung for their lives, attempting to board the flying dragon as if she were a flying pirate ship.

The magnificent beast called out at this tomfoolery, how one person can become so many, these primes having so many tricks up their sleeve, She would twist as turn, a complete spasm to try to throw off the band of merry thieves managing to cause one to plummet to their death, and catching one in her mouth, chomping down and spitting fire as it dissolved back into omnilium. The others took their chance to deal damage to the beasts side as Demetri continued to try to hold his ground, or more specifically, air.

Volvagia then twisted and chomped into a pair of chains, causing another thief to fall to their end before whipping her tail, making the remaining two thieve's. As she did so, one might even see a smug smile on her reptilian face.

Demetri grunted aloud as he was sent flying, his clone dissipating instantly into dust and omnilium as the final, genuine thief spit blood, feeling his chest nearly crushed by the force as he felt his blade slip from his grasp, dropping down. His instinct would kick in, his will to survive this battle overpowering the pain as a chain once again flew through the air to wrap around the tail that had nearly killed him in a single hit, the other shooting out and grabbing the sword before he pulled back on both, Being pulled through the air forcefully as he swung the sword passed him, the chain releasing the blade as it soared to the wound once more.

As it hit and fused with the wound, the metal dripping and leaking to the rock below, the dragon gave another shriek, snapping at Demetri and crushing the chain that he held onto for his life. His eyes widened in fear as the dragon whipped its tail, smacking him in what the others could only assume to be square in his chest, as a loud sickening crack was heard, right before he was sent to the nearest hill, rolling in the dust until he lay on the floor.

With a cough and sputter of breath, he turned over on his back, revealing a splintered and broken shield, the metal bracket on it misshapen and bent.

"IRIS, remind me to never fight a dragon again." The thief coughed as he struggled to sit up, giving a loud and harsh sigh before making it to his feet.

"Will do, Creator."

Quote:1427 words(yeah im over the limit)

Demetri attacked using chains and his last items in his satchel(Shield and sword)

Demetri used his chains,(currently both regenerating, 10 seconds)

Demetri used "Split tactics" 1 sp used

SP left 3/4

Storyteller · 05-31-2016, 07:20 PM

Fire crept like the many legs of a centipede in Volvagia's wake, skittering in the form of dozens of soft orange tongues across the flame-scorched plain. Its long, undulating body continued to course through the air in a pattern that was as predictable as it was intimidating, the occasional glint of talons or teeth striking an imposing crescent of light against the serpent's slithering form and the rhythmic shower of flint-sparks that followed close behind it, dousing the Primes intermittently in flame.

The dragon tracked the clever thief's descent with a single eye, the cogs within its head turning furiously as the last shimmering glimpse of his chains sank into the infernal atmosphere of swirling dust and ash. While the doppelgängers were a most frustratingly effective distraction, they had also been mostly incorporeal and easy to diminish to naught but smoke.

Interesting.

Attention once more swept up by the Primes and their many-hued tricks— a circlet of purple glanced past the fire drake's snout, the mantra of ragefirehate within Volvagia's mind screeching towards a fever pitch as its jaws clamped down upon nothing but empty air— the dragon momentarily let off in its decimation of the Gorons, opting instead to rollick about in the sky and spew caramelized fire as it had been henceforth wont to do. It was not especially conducive to the successful landing of attacks on the part of its opponents, but that was the point.

Predictability bred a false sense of security, after all. A lull in the tactics of its enemies was something which Volvagia kept careful note of with its waning sight and the stinging, painful lacerations that skittered across its scaly curvature, every nerve-ending straining and cycling along with the movements of its attackers.

Jerking to an abrupt pause, its body curved into an 's' of coal-black that danced with streaks of ridged firelight, Volvagia began to wheel around into what appeared to be yet another theatrical loop that would send the drake reeling off into the vaporous hellscape. At the last moment before its injured flank was exposed to the searing wind and hail of electric gunfire, however, the wyrm's helm seemed to split into halves, then thirds, and then finally a perfect quintet— peeling apart until there were five wingless serpents undulating across the red-tinted sky, darting off every which way in an effort to confuse and confound.

A crackle of flame flaked off from Volvagia's tail as its focus turned away from the thief, setting the earth alight so that a massive streak of coppery fire flared upward into a shaky barrier between itself and the collected Primes; the air around it swelled into a purplish-silver sheen of oxygen-starved air, nearly fit to burst. Freshly fallen sparks spluttered and popped like hot grease, the illusory duplicates blending seamlessly with the true form of the dragon into a pepper-colored ouroboros of pretzel twists and streaming light as flamboyant as any carnival.

Thrown projectiles sizzled and were turned to dust by the temporary shield of congealed flame that lay between the dragons and the Primes, eventually breaking the barrier so that it crumbled into dim flecks of fireplace cinders. Unfortunately, the time it had taken to break the barrier had afforded the true Volvagia more than enough time to formulate a strategy of sorts.

As the wall of fire and haze disintegrated, the snaking mass of reptilian clones wove together like the links of a chain, placing enough distance between one another so that they could continue to flagellate freely about— gradually forming into a basket weave of rapidly circling scales with wide gaps all throughout, certainly more than enough room for a beast of Volvagia's exact girth to slip through.

The Primes were surrounded; perhaps only a quite alone but still adamantly determined Connor Hound remained outside the writhing mesh of draconic bodies. Rather than lord its dominion over the ensnared warriors, Volvagia darted in and out of its confusing morass of clones, snapping savagely at every opportunity. Time was of the essence: already one or two of its clones had been reduced to nothingness.

Volvagia glanced beseechingly about itself, snarling when a bullet found its true mark against the armored ridges of its side. Yet another serpent clone was destroyed before its very eyes courtesy of a lucky shot, leaving the immense beast with only two to further its little game of cat and mouse. Still, the heat of battle and something like delight pulsed within its fire-gorged breast, the flinty mountain ridges aligning nicely with the drake's widening grin as it dove once more into the fray.

While Volvagia's arrogance had been thoroughly collapsed by the attack which had pitched it into the earth to settle amongst the dust and rubble, it was replaced by a shivering framework of renewed vigor, unsure as a soldier placed under truce. A terrible shriek rent the air, the dragon glaring down in slavering good humor as it sailed past the Primes, abandoning its clones to destruction in order to pursue the Gorons.

But, the titanic resident of Death Mountain supposed that it could deign to leave something more challenging for its dastardly foes to face. Even as the two remaining illusions dissipated into nonexistence at the hands of Colonel and Erik Vrell, Volvagia had begun to speak to the fire that lay beneath the crust of the Ashen Steppes in a tongue which it alone could speak.

Flares leapt upward in swarms of softness and blazing pain, coursing through the air as if they were inside the red-hot veins of a fire giant before flowering into large, brilliantine networks of fiery light at random. The destructive elements had seemingly taken on a life of their own, kamikaze globules of lava hurtling as if by some incredible telekinetic force only to narrowly glance past their targets.

Satisfied that its work was done, Volvagia's gaze appeared to gleam with private mirth as it plumed high above the village to garner a better vantage point from which to begin its hunt in earnest.

Quote:1030 words - Site.

Mimicked Demetri's Split Tactics, -1 SP. Fireballs are now being telekinetically thrown everywhere.

Red-Hood · 06-01-2016, 04:43 PM

It was a strange feeling going from a free fall to standing and forcing a dragon down to earth with a mere thought. At first when Nealaphh had merged with Red Hood's body he felt it was a great perversion, and for a moment even struggled against the new force. However the longer his presence filled his mind, the calmer Red Hood began to feel. No, not Red Hood, God Hood. He was an entirely different being now after all.

It was still a strange feeling to watch his body being used with out much of his own input into said actions. But the power he felt was quite enticing, and the dragon seemed to have met its match now that the God Hood had been birthed into this strange universe. In this new form the, anger, his motivation and reason for living had disappeared. Never in his life had Red felt this serene. The newfound emotion brought on by Nealapph's personality and wisdom was startling at first, but this new out look on life caused him to see the battle clearly. For once in his life Red wasn't the reckless delinquent that Bruce Wayne had hoped to mentor. He was God Hood.

The part of the new being's brain that was Red Hood was startled to see the dragon split into multiple copies and the new found serenity wavered slightly, only to be bolstered up once more by Nealapph as he soothed the mind of Red. The God Hood nodded as they understood what had to be done. The gaping wound that lay on Volvagia's flank was a clear weakness for the dragon, one that the God Hood could only assume she wasn't used to having. It was clear that was their next plan of attack.

The great beast moved its large serpentine head left and right, peering down at her handiwork of chaos she had just left forth on the Goron village. God Hood watched her from her perch and once Volvagia turned her head, God Hood disappeared.

The being reappeared near the open bleeding wound on the dragon's flank. God Hood reached down and unholstered one of his pistols, with the other hand he extended one finger as a bright light began to emit from it. The tip of his finger grew brighter and brighter as he moved both his hands near Volvagia's wound. A thin beam of light erupted from the tip of his finger as the God Hood pulled the trigger to the pistol. The surprise attack ripped into the wound causing Volvagia to roar in pain.

She lowered her head, snapping at empty air. God Hood lazily floated upwards in front of the great dragon, smirking as he reloaded the pistol.

Volvagia roared as she launched herself from her rocky perch as she flew towards God Hood. He reached down and unholstered the other pistol, flying in the opposite direction he began firing at the dragon. Small sparks appeared across Volvagia's body as the bullets connected with the surface if her tough hide. God Hood had expected as much but damaging the dragon in this way wasn't his goal, frustration was.

The Dragon roared in anger, opening her jaws and exposing her razor sharp teeth as she sped forward, hoping to trap the annoying pest her toothy grasp. Once again the God Hood smirked as the dragon once again attacked predictably. Jason could feel Nealaphh's mind softly pointing out that this his how he looked when he attacked with out pause for Gus actions. Jason smiled knowing that he was right.

God Hood tucked his wings in, dropping rather quickly, much to the surprise of his predator. She dropped her large head watching the obsidian skinned prime, as she started to change course. But it was too late, her sheer speed and size would be too much to maneuver so deftly. With an outstretched hand, God mind once again sped the beast up, sending her crashing violently into the rocky wall in which they had been traveling near. The dragon crashed into the mountain side once again. Red Hood laughed inside of the mind of the merged primes.

I can't believe she fell for that again!

Hush now, this fight isn't over yet Nealaphh's voice cooed

Quote: 1 SP Used for Lazarus' Blessing
2 SP Used for Symbiotic Fusion

Stat Array: 6/7/5/9

0/9 SP Remain

Moves Used:

Quantum Uncertainty
Temporal Jaunt
Partical Energy Conversion
Dual Pistols

730 Words according to site

Tearen Wover · 06-04-2016, 09:51 PM

Destruction was one of the core principals of any reality. It was a member of a holy trinity; a constant relation that had to be maintained for anything to transpire upon a plane of existence. Destruction, along with Creation and Progression, were more than mere concepts; they were animistic forces with wills of their own. Nealaphh, as well as many others, knew the names of these fundamental entities as Azathoth, Shub Niggurath, and Yog Sothoth, respectively. To say that they held little regard for the results of their intermixing spheres was more than an understatement. It was a sentiment akin to asking the rain if it cared where it fell, or asking a star if it cared on whom it shone. Such was the way of Nealaphh and the Enigmas, keepers of the Balance.

Nealaphh had always been predisposed to the whims of Azathoth, and by dint of that association, the Crawling Chaos Nyarlathotep. In its home universe, it had been a tertiary entity at the most, relegated to managing and herding the whimpering dregs that comprised the succulent underbelly of civilized life. To work its way into the hearts and minds of the dejected, the scorned, and the hated, by giving them a place to be accepted and loved. Over time, and with gentle coaxing, these downtrodden souls would amass as the true manifestation of the Crawling Chaos.

...and yet, Nealaphh had been far from a god. Such a narrow-minded term was inherently a misnomer for what the shapers of reality truly represented. From the silvery shores of the Astral Plane, to the fused divinity and depravity of Gehenna, Nealaphh had walked the path of death and entropy. Murdering that which was immortal, and dismantling that which was foundation had always been its role.

So what of the God-Mind in the Omniverse? Even in all of its depth of conception could it ever have conceived of such an unnatural affront to the Balance. Its role as Destroyer compelled it to tear the place to shreds, defile its sensibilities, and invite the destruction of its amassed consciousness. Here though, it could have an agenda of its own. Nealaphh had entered the Omniverse with the goal of tearing The Smiling One from his throne. Petty vengeance really, even if the God-Mind hadn’t called it such a thing at the time. Over the weeks that followed, its focus changed to the gradual controlling and manipulation of the populace through succor and vision. A simple plan really; build the Omniverse into a paradise, and then with the reigns in its hands, drive the beast of civilization so deep into the true depravity of sentience that it could never recover.

Now though, as it fought against the Arch Dragon Volvagia, the last few remaining Gorons scattering into their dens and caves, what was this that it felt? Having so long removed itself from the jurisdiction of human emotions, the God-Mind did not immediately have a name for this emotion. A sense of pride...and...relief. Relief that at least some Gorons would be safe. Underpinning this though was a great, deepening hollowness. Regret? Guilt? It was hard to define. Their suffering had entirely been a result of the secret manipulations and whims of the God-Mind, and it had done so with the feeling of security that its machinations would never be truly revealed. The damage that surrounded it now, though, the raw Destruction that screamed in and of itself...did not please Nealaphh.

What have I done?

There would be no undoing the damage. Resummoning the Gorons that had been killed would not hide the scars that would remain here. For what reason? Nealaphh wanted to say that it was not for such pettiness as glory or fame, but ultimately, that had been what it was after. To be a god, whatever nonsensical implications that title had held. Ultimately, Nealaphh’s actions, however auspiced and immaculately calculated they had been, were entirely human. That was what it had been hiding from this entire time; its own humanity.

And now, here, fused with this human and confronted with the throbbing pathos of the suffering it had wrought, its humanity flooded to the forefront of its mind. The God Hood, suddenly overcome with the burden of its regret, slowly sank to the scorched rock below, head hung low, and wings splayed out in the ebon dust. He could feel the eyes of the Primes that had followed Nealaphh’s grand vision upon him. He could feel the predatory indignation of the Arch Dragon whirling through the psychic medium. Ennui overtook the God Hood, and though Jason Todd did his best to will their shared body into action, Nealaphh would not budge.

All at once, there came a sweeping motion and a suffocating heat. His eyes and body told the God Hood that it had been snapped up into the jaws of Volvagia, the bereaved mother clenching on the listless Prime with all the glee and satisfaction of a dog with her favorite chew toy. With screeching abandon, Volvagia whipped her head back and forth, the shaking motion causing her searing fangs to shred the body of the God Hood with each frenzied thrash. At long length, Volvagia released her prey, and the God Hood was flung far to the earth below, landing with a pronounced crunch.

Destruction. The land was suffocated under its imperious grasp. Nealaphh would tend to its duty; Balance had to be restored.

The power of Lazarus, and indeed, the strength needed to keep itself bound to the body of Jason Todd, was ebbing quickly. Already, thick ropes of simmering smoke trailed from the God Hood as Nealaphh’s essence seeped from its body. Volvagia reared around in the sky, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and rage as, for the last time, the God Hood rose to his feet. Some might consider the unstoppable power of a volcano to be a destructive force, but in reality, the surging magma and cooling stone was an ongoing surge of Creation. The Ashen Steppes, however, still lacked one thing.

Progression.

The God Hood called the Chidori Blade to his hand, the black sword glinting in the embered firelight. Nealaphh had originally considered the weapon to be no more than a tawdry token of victory when Okor had delivered it to the God-Mind. Now, though, faced with the ultimate force of this Verse and the weight of its choices, Nealaphh was glad that the sword was in its possession. Without knowing exactly how, the God Hood called upon the Sword of Kusanagi. Brilliant scintillations of chirping static flared to life along the length of the weapon, pulsing to a blinding apex of brilliance. The pure, white-blue light reflected starkly off of the dark iron mask bearing down on the God Hood. With a defiant stare, he looked into the eye of Volvagia, even as she retched forth a final, triumphant shriek, and rose to meet her.

Like a winged bullet, the God Hood rose through the ash-choked air, Chidori Blade leaving a trail of unbridled power in its wake. The combined skill of Red Hood and Nealaphh was more than enough to spot a hairline fracture along the vertical length of Volvagia’s mask. Raising the sword in front of himself, and bracing the pommel with his other hand, the God Hood drove the Chidori directly into Volvagia’s hidden face, the black blade piercing straight through the protective artifice as if it wasn’t even there. The momentum of this full-bodied strike saw the blade fully wedged into the Dragon Queen’s face, where it continued to sputter and spark as she writhed in agony. The God Hood continued up along Volvagia’s spine, until one errant flick of her tail smacked the fused Prime in twain.

The two bodies of Red Hood and Nealaphh soared up through the air for a bit longer before landing back upon the harsh substrate of the Steppes with soft plops. It was all that could be done. Nealaphh closed its eyes, and awaited its fate...

Quote:1,356 Words

Activated Corvidae to change stat Array:

9/3/9/6

Moves Used:

Chidori Blade

Storyteller · 06-18-2016, 05:38 PM

A soft murmur spread like blight throughout the Omniverse in its earliest days, whispering of claws, devastation and fiery breath. But no one storyteller was more intimately familiar with this tale than the chance Goron traveller, unhappily saddled with the knowledge that below Death Mountain slept a terror capable of rendering their world into a place where sorrow would always, always triumph over joy.

But before those fateful whispers traveled on the finicky breeze and soared through the clouds to fall upon the ears of the righteous, brave or self-seeking, there was emptiness. A vacuum of sound, color and change— distant, so very unlike the warm caress of flame and cordite smoke that the fire drake was accustomed to, and it could only grow more alien and cold as time wore untiringly on. Impassively hungry miles stretched outward in all directions, white as the seashells which speckled the shores of the Great Sea.

Snake-like, breath sifting through the air in hazy, shimmering matrices, the great wyrm hunted for something, anything with which it would be familiar. It disregarded all things that did not have some semblance of warmth about them, at last pinpointing a sizzling, phoenix-bright smell that was both malicious and saccharine. The dragon did not waver in taking to the sky to pursue what little relief the strange new world it had found itself in had to offer-- the Gods could play their silly little games to their heart's content, it would not stray from the path for which it was made. Each slithering swish of its scales was layered with desperation, each lambent fleck on the horizon striking and significant like a shot in the darkness.

A tempest unlike any that had ever been witnessed before engulfed the Ashen Steppes; hot winds swallowed all sound and stifled many a breath, coiling fast about any who would bar its passage. Volvagia delved deep within the ground, fiery crevices blooming outward in its wake like the bleeding petals of a field of poppies, winding through the earth in an extension of its own awareness. Softness limited to the touch of fire draped about the serpent as it made its bed there, below the glinting obsidian crust of the ground and within the sweltering belly of Death Mountain, hastening towards its absolution.

Years passed where its reign went unchallenged.

The Goron village had fallen, its knees cruelly sliced out from underneath it, for Volvagia had no need for such trifling things cluttering up its doorstep. It did not suppress its fires in the face of resistance, dry sparks flinching and swarming in star-flung seams of golden intent to devour the homes of innocents. And yet there were those who continued to stand and fight amongst the unforgiving ruins of the burning village, shining brighter than unburnished gold.

Swords melted like soft cheeses against its rigid hide, spells little more than dancing fairy lights when they burst inside its jaws like spring-water bubbles. It had always been simple, so very simple. Foolishly, brazenly, Volvagia swooped low over the Primes, flying to its death.

Volvagia felt weightless, thoughts disorganized and jumbled, sinking down and battered all over by a combination of the wind, ash and fiery rain, and yet at the core of it there was understanding. Awareness. A whorl of blood, memory and bloody memories cycling endlessly across the plains riddled with dusk-sleep and falling stars, playing out as if in slow motion. Like hurtling through rapids.

There was a weight in its head from where the electric blade jutted still, scraping irritatingly about like marbles on glass and sparking intermittently. Glimmers of pain mixed with white-hot saline fluid simmered within Volvagia’s eye sockets.

For the first time in its life, the fiery serpent burned. The beast screamed and thrashed against the wind, agony slivering off from its skin in odious pieces, consumed by its own starved fire. The light sharpened Volvagia’s divine image, the ridges of its helm and the bluish-green sparks shuttering out from its eyelids flashing in narrowly arcing mirage-wisps. A great, brackish gout oozed lifeblood as the waspish edge of the blade plunged ever deeper inside of its skull, the ecstasy of justice easing its way inside.

Roaring darkness filled the jagged space in the dragon’s brain. It swelled with guttering void, sullen and bestial in its contempt for life, scattering flesh like ashes on the wind with all-devouring might. It gushed out from the beast’s wounds, volcanic and surging, a wail wrenching free from the colossal wyrm’s maw as the ghastly pallor of eternal night began to take its mind.

Volvagia’s forearms, the glittering scythes of its claws, scrabbled and pawed at the air as it struggled to remain aloft, attempting to climb even in death from some reptilian desire to remain about the rest, to gaze down upon the world and know that it was sovereign over all. Never mind the imminent failure of its body, its flesh, and the wounds cutting deep into its meat. Never mind the agony, never mind the dwindling carbon serpents trailing out from its nostrils. Fly.

The heart within its breast palpitated frenziedly, falling, trailing, quickening like hummingbird wing beats, spasming against its ribcage in fitful jerks. Eventually it begins to lose traction or simply muscle, skipping those first few fateful beats. The wild, earsplitting trilling of pipes heralded its descent, a thousand phantom villages burning in its mind’s eye, towers and spires alike whetted with the sap of blinking flame.

Awful, beseeching ripples ringed about its horns, snout and teeth, and in its terror the dragon seized upon the broken-down shell of a building, dying swiftly and without grace, a shooting star wrenched unceremoniously from the heavens or a fallen angel dredged up from the deepest, darkest cesspits of hell. It was hardly a carcass— clinging fast to its last vestiges of life, yes, but certainly not long for the world. And soon, even that last tidbit of desperation would be taken from it with little fanfare.

Something heavy and solid knocked against Volvagia’s head, a fist splitting its skull and sending a trickle of fresh rheum spilling out from in between the infernal creature’s already slack jaws. A torpid wave mercifully shadowed the pain, though the sight of an incensed Darunia towering above it while it was imprisoned within such a wretchedly broken state was less so.

The fire drake’s world lurched yet again, an empty, unfocused blot of pain burrowing into the soft matter of its brain as Darunia drove the spike further inward with a mighty pounding of his fists. The wrecked structure supporting it groaned in protest as the dragon swayed, tail sweeping outward to engulf the small, effervescent bubble of hazy vision that had become its single remaining area of dominion, and it observed numbly as the Goron chieftain abandoned his onslaught to avoid toppling over as well.

A pity. Volvagia so would have liked to crush him with its tumbling carcass.

The ground rushed to meet its body as it dropped, hooked claws ripped free of their perch in a shower of sparks.

Volvagia screeched with incandescent pain and rage and despair— thoroughly defeated, the fire within its breast spluttering like dampened brushwood set alight, by a being encased in obsidian and its loathsome, trembling ilk. Towards the earth its immense and snaking form plunged, the howling winds surging around it vicious enough to flay skin, scales glistening and a deep gouge cut into its skull.

You will know death, a voice spoke into its mind, and without truly knowing Volvagia recognized it as the hated one clad in a raven’s dark plumes and cowl. It snarled back, fangless and with fire gorging only in weak gasps at the back of its throat, a rabid mongrel without its teeth. You will know what it is to die.

Echoes of shockwaves surged outward to banish darkness and chaos, the charred plain lit up for a single eternity by a miniature solar flare. Seconds afterward, for the first time since time immemorial, a chill wind blew over the Ashen Steppes.

The dragon Volvagia was dead.

Quote:1384 words - Site.

Volvagia is dead. Nealaphh has gained Recognition in the Ashen Steppes!

Tearen Wover · 06-21-2016, 08:11 AM

Silence was a relative descriptor.

In many spheres, the great depths of outer space were considered the ultimate realm of quiescense. This was largely due to physical limitations on the part of mortal-kind; if one know where and how to listen, the Universe was alive with a rippling symphony of stars, roiling nebulae, and percussive pulsars. In this moment, the Ashen Steppes could not be considered truly silent. Despite the abrupt end of the struggle, there was still a gut-turning rumble that permeated the entire mountain.

The absence of the Dragon Queen's screams, however, created a gulf of peace that made it seem as though the world had been all but muted. Nealaphh had expected to die in a quick, fiery death, but the final blow never came. At length, the god-mind pushed itself upright and gazed solemnly at its surroundings. A sick feeling hung deep in the pit of its soul, a wrenching reverberation that drained Nealaphh of almost all coherent thought. In a daze, the god-mind staggered over to the cooling, blackened body of the Wyrm, shedding its rent cloak as it tentatively approached. An obsidian hand touched the equally tenebrous hide of the Dragon Queen, running along the rough, scar ridden armor.

In its other hand hung a purple, circular sigil. It gleamed with a sinister light, as if it hungered to consume the sacred flesh of Primes. Nealaphh looked down at the Banishment Circle with a narrow-eyed glance. Could it condemn this being to the untold depravity of the Underverse? What would be more selfish; trying to save itself from the guilt, or committing to completing its own agenda?

"Hey."

A gruff, heavy voice came from behind the god-mind. Darunia's authoritative timbre was unmistakable. Nealaphh turned around, but did not meet the chieftan's flinty eyes. His bulky silhouette, backlit by the burning remains of his personal xanadu, was imposing in a way that Nealaphh had not experienced in a long time. Darunia spoke again, his voice cold and heavy.

"Do it."

The shadow, naked in the flickering lava-light, held the Circle up to its face. Nealaphh did not want to...but it was not in a position to negotiate with the Goron. For the first time in the Omniverse, Nealaphh obeyed someone else's command, and pressed the violet sigil into Volvagia's disgraced corpse. Electric light began to flicker forth from the Arch Dragon's countless wounds, as the immense body unceremoniously dissolved into a different, distinct kind of ash that only came from the bodies of banished Primes. It was a thick, oily type of cinder that rolled away resentfully under the force of a breeze, rather than drift peacefully into the sky.

"Good riddance." Darunia spat, his voice harboring no intonation of satisfaction or pleasure. He turned to the god-mind, and spoke in a dangerously low tone. "My village, and my people. They are destroyed, Nealaphh. Killing even another thousand dragons could never justify...this." Darunia said, sweeping a heavy hand across the ravaged landscape. Emotion boiled within the shadow. Rage. Humiliation. A profound bolus of indignant anger rose within the Enigma's soul. Its sense of human emotion, having so long been trapped deep in the recesses of its august psyche, now swirled around its mind unchecked. Nealaphh wheeled around to face Darunia, its acidic eyes burning with vindication.

And what of you, Darunia? How do you justify bringing your people to this Omniverse in the first place? You seemed comfortable enough on your throne; was ruling over a lumbering horde of summoned puppets good enough for you?

Darunia's eyes immediately flared, and his fists balled tightly. He stomped towards the god-mind, the silty ground thumping loudly with each imperious stride. He bent down to come eye to eye with the shadow, speaking in the same, restrained tone.

"My people..." Darunia breathed, "...belong at my side. They want to be by my side, and their love for me is real. How about you, Nealaphh? I've seen your writings, I've watched your followers. Oh, they'll go along with your ideas, but do they truly feel loyalty for you?"

The difference is that my followers are Primes; sovereign entities. These Gorons of yours, you say they love you, but is that their honest disposition? Or did you just make them that way? How long after you discovered Volvagia did you keep summoning them?

The burning firelight of the village reflected off of Nealaphh's carapace as it walked over to where Volvagia's head once had been, and plucked the now-dormant Sword of Kusanagi from the pile of odious ash. Its telepathic voice, laden with ire and frustration, continued to bore into Darunia's head.

You let these imaginary friends of your build up their town and lives for themselves. A beautiful lie to tell yourself, surely, that you could escape from homesickness if you but conjured your village here. Did any of them ever question why you had dragged them into your own waking nightmare? No...of course not. Because they 'love' you, just like you wanted them to...

Nealaphh could feel Darunia looming large behind itself once again, aggression and pain stifling all reasonable thought. It was a predictable outcome, but Nealaphh was also experiencing a lack of emotional wisdom at the moment.

What, Darunia? Are you going to beat me into the ground? Will that make you feel better? Will it help cover up the fact that your selfishness doomed the false lives of your beloved-

Nealaphh's train of thought was abruptly interrupted as it found itself airborne, and then slamming into the face of the cliff with a resounding impact. Stunned, it was unable to catch itself as it plummeted back to the earth for the second time that morning. Reeling from the blow, Nealaphh could still sense Darunia's silent departure into the caverns. A pressure built inside of the god-mind's face. It was an odd feeling, but one that it vaguely remembered. Was its body trying to cry? A single, glassy finger ran down the length of its equally smooth face, over the gleaming, flat wedges that symbolized its eyes. Perhaps it may have wept, but this body that it had been consigned to had no tears to give.

Regardless, it was time to move on. Nealaphh slowly lifted itself on to its feet and began searching for the other remaining Primes who had volunteered for its own, equally selfish desires...

Quote:Nealaphh used 1 Banishing Circle on Volvagia

Red-Hood · 06-28-2016, 11:36 AM

They had done it, they had won. The group of primes that answered the cry of help of the God Mind stood tall and slayed a dragon. Although some had perished in the grand battle of Death mountain, their deaths were not in vain.

Red Hood laid there on the ash filled ground a s more ash began to cover him in a blanket. The thought of succumbing to the darkness was some what of a comfort to the vigilante. Maybe it was his time to die again. The thought brought a sickly chuckle from his throat that soon erupted into a hoarse cough. Red jerked to his side and ripped his mask off. Bile, ash, sweat and blood spewed forth from the young man's mouth.

Rest easy my friend, you've earned it, peaceful words began to echo in his head. He rolled back over, propping himself up on his elbows as he raised his head to meet the green piercing eyes of Nealaphh. If the God mind had a face, a soft smile might have been seen across the being's shadowy visage. Red wiped the remains of filth from his mouth before moving to a sitting position.

Red had lost the only friend he truly trusted, even though he was skeptical of the strange hammer wielding Asguardian at first, his fondness of the man had grown over their time in this strange universe. Now he felt empty, the loss of his friend and absence of the God Mind's presence left the vigilante feeling like nothing more than a husk. What would he do? Where would he go? What was the point to this damnable universe? At least in Gotham he had a purpose, here he was just a traveling vagabond with no destination. Hopefully Nealaphh would have some use for him

So... What happens next?" he said in a mournful tone, as he rose to his feet, peering at the being at eye level. His body was broken, but a numbness encompassed his form, blocking out the pysical pain. The emotional toll this battle had brought was still a freshly bleeding wound.

Red looked at the green eyes that started at him, silently pleading not to send him away. He had no place to go after all, but if he must he would respect the God Mind's wishes.

Login
Username:
Password:	Lost Password?
	Remember me