The Dark Ages [Dark Data]

[Hiro Protagonist]

The passage through the gate from the Nexus into the medieval verse of Camelot was marked by a rather sudden and unexpected change. Hiro's high tech, stylish car shook and juddered, rolling to a stop about ten feet away from the stone gate and the surrounding marker. The hacker's sight had been obscured by whirling patterns of the portal, and thus was startled to look down at the steering wheel and see reins in his hand. Also, he was seated much higher up. And there were two black horses, made of shiny carved dark wood and what looked like gears and clockwork. "Are you......fucking serious?" Hiro muttered to himself incredulously. His sweet ride had transformed into something more 'period' appropriate. A fucking horse drawn carriage.

"Hiro. I notice that your car has undergone some...technical difficulties. Also, I am stuck inside the cabin. My frame is too large to exit without breaking the construction of this vehicle." The Plague Marine's voice emanated from inside the black carriage compartment, and Hiro jumped down from the driver's seat to land nimbly on his feet. A hand went up over his goggles as he parsed the situation. "I already hate this place. And you know what Okor, be my guest. I'm just going to break this back down into Omnilium. I'll be damned if I go gallivanting around in a fucking clockwork carriage like a fricken' goober."

As he was griping, he noticed the Liberator Brace he'd plugged into his wristcomp light up and begin whirring. Huh. Readings...he scrolled through the small screen, as Okor's rusted bulk began to split the wooden frame of the carriage his car had been transmogrified into. "Nebula operations detected....okay, but where? No rangefinder on this thing?" Hiro kept tapping the screen, going through the analysis of just what this Liberator Aide was picking up. He winced as Okor tore himself free from the carriage and landed on the ground with a heavy thump. "I do not mind walking, Hiro. Although it seems your friend's conveyance was deemed acceptable." And of course, Madotsuki floated up in her weird crystal car as the hacker was reading about how the power readings seemed to be "omnilium holes" for lack of a better word. Like antimatter, in layman's terms.

"Okay, so, Team Dung Ages." The frustrated ronin waved his wristcomp in the air, the device letting off a purple ping as it traced the concentrations of dark power. "Once I reclaim the remains of my poor car, destroyed oh so callously once more, what say we head out and try to find some trouble, yeah?"

[Okor]

A black tongue, warped to intone the impossible language of Daemons, ran across ruined teeth as Okor looked out over the idyllic plains. Blades of grass blew in the wind, a sheen of dew shining as the field shimmered and shifted with the breeze. He raised his rusted helmet to his horned head, sealing his rank corruption inside corroded ceramite. ”It’s about time I took the fight to some poor bastard,” he said, his armour lending a guttural growl to his words as they filtered through the vox. Eagles soared through the sky in the distance, dwarfing what structures stood on the horizon.

”The arena lies that way. The scent of blood and… glory is still fresh in my mind,” gurgled the giant, inclining his head towards a marble dot far off on the distance.

The hacker looked up from his ongoing manipulation of Omnillium, goggles falling over his eyes, giving the appearance of some multifaceted insectoid abomination, one step closer to the glory in gangrene offered by Nurgle. “Blood sport, Okor? I would say that sounds like it’d be beneath you, but then again, you did crawl out of the sewer back in The Deeps.”

The marine chuckled, errant pebbles on the cobblestone road beneath the group vibrating with the bass rumble. ”Aye, they organized a tourney. I needed to… kill, and they needed to watch someone kill. It was enjoyable enough.”

Hiro knelt down as iridescent ribbons of power flowed from the ruins of his vehicle back into himself, their new companion sitting on the edge of their crystalline chariot, feet kicking freely as they waited for the renegade ronin to reclaim the remains. “Did you do well?” Asked Madotsuki as they perched atop their arcane construct, lightly clutching a blade between their fingers.

Okor shrugged, the mouldering masses upon his shoulders shifting. ”I claimed two before some brigand got lucky and beat my… brains out, with a rock. I hope to repay them that favour, in time.”

With a final deft movement of his hands, Hiro drew the remaining Omnillium into his essence before turning back to the path before them.

“Well, here we are. A zombie, a Samurai, and a magical little girl out to fight the physical embodiment of corruption. Only thing between us and a Dataverse series is that Madotsuki doesn’t have an action figure.”

“Wait, you two have action figures?” Asked the girl as she dropped down from her shining vehicle, the magic and Omnillium that held it together flowing back into her being, her razor-thin blade held at her hip.

”So I’ve been told. Apparently it can be disassembled and burned without lasting damage. To have one’s achievements and abilities recognized is... “ He paused, trying to find the words. ”... Appreciated.”

“Hey, fuck you man.” Said Hiro, adjusting the Katana at his belt as he began to walk alongside the child and the corpse. “The most impressive thing mine got was a damn athlete's cup. There’s no justice in this world.”

The Chosen of The Plague God hefted his bubonic blade, slime seeping from its length, staining his broad shoulders.

”No. Not yet.”

[Madotsuki]

When the dreamer had been amazed at the sight of grass, she knew she had been living in Coruscant for too long. She took in a deep breath of natural, unrecycled air, then immediately exhaled at the sight of her samurai friend's new ride. At first she had been amused at the sudden change, hiding a laugh as they all realized that Okor was trapped in the back seat. After she managed to look closer at the horses powering the carriage, however, she was in awe of the sheer mechanical complexity of the equines. Unfortunately she was only able to admire them for a minute or two before Hiro dispersed it back into Omnilium.

'It's a shame. Those horses looked awesome,' she said, glancing down at the two from her crystalline perch.

"Cool or not," the ronin replied, looking back up at her, "there's no way I'm riding in a dinky carriage."

'Suit yourself.' And with that, she hopped down from her vehicle and landed next to the rotting marine, already getting used to the pungent odor of death he always carried. Laces of rainbow-colored energy reached into her body as she allowed her construct to degenerate back into Omnilium.

She turned to see that Hiro was already beginning to hate this verse. 'I think this place is nice,' she objected, crossing her arms and frowning.

"Easy for you to say-- you're not the one that got their vehicle wrecked. Again."

'No no no. I mean, I've spent almost all of my time in the Omniverse in Coruscant. It's a bit of a sensory overload, to be honest.'

"You seemed to like it."

'I did. I just needed a break from it is all.'

"If you really needed a break," Okor questioned, "then why did you wait until now?"

She was about to reply, but paused. Her first answer was that she had people who needed her there; it was the truth, but the samurai knew that she was a shut-in, and he'd probably try and dig deeper into that statement. Which was bad, since those aforementioned people were a group of rebels and a family gang. Instead, she answered with 'Well, someone needed to pay for our room, what with Hiro here being gone for a while.'

She could've sworn that she saw a flicker of suspicion in the EPD officer's eyes, but he nodded. "Right. We should probably get going now-- Nebula isn't going to stop itself. The signal seems to be coming from this way."

They started towards the destination, with Hiro leading the group while Madotsuki and Okor hung near the back. She wasn't entirely sure, but she had the feeling that the Chosen of the Plague God was staring at her through his helmet. ...Did he know she had lied earlier? Or was he just analyzing her now that he had the opportunity to do so? Nervous, she fiddled around with her knife until the silence was too much to bear.

'So... Okor? How did you and Hiro meet? And did you two do anything together? He looks a little...' She glanced over at her friend. '...different... and I'm thinking you had something to do with that.'

[Nebula]

Before the squad could continue their passing of pleasantries, a far-off crash rang out from just over the horizon. Following this disturbance was a notable shudder from the earth beneath their feet, the shock causing the remains of a rotted tree to unearth itself and topple onto the dirt path before them, landing with a clattery clamor just feet from their location.

”Suspect,” the largest among them rasped, his single jaundiced eye staring into the distance as the trio stopped short to assess.

“Gotta be Darklings,” Hiro responded, answering the question the three had silently asked themselves seconds prior. “Whatever is causing that must have some extra juice.”

Madotsuki nodded in agreement. “I’d bet.”

As if to affirm their assumption, a similarly troubling though entirely different noise met their collective ears just seconds later. This tone was quite different from the deep, dull boom of some mysterious detonation or the groaning of Mother Earth. Instead, rather, the call came shrill and haunting upon the wind.

Screaming.

HARK! THERE IS EVIL AFOOT!

Chaos on the horizon, and near at hand. Go investigate, and see what it might be! Everyone has three days, to make one post, of 600 words each. Happy hunting, folks!

[Okor]

”A tale for another time, it seems,” gurgled the giant, his claws pressing themselves to either side of his head as he twisted his vertebrae back into alignment with a sickening snap. ”For now, we have some poor fools to send screaming back to whatever hell they crawled out of.” He began to turn off the well-travelled path, the aftershock of the agonized scream still rumbling through the earth, crushing shrubs and small stones beneath his tread. The intoxicating scent of blood and fear was on the wind, his twisted maw slavering with the thought of feasting on fresh flesh, animalistic instincts driving him forward as he tightened his grip on his ancient blade. Hiro moved alongside him, the hacker’s blade remaining in its sheathe as the digital daimyo effortlessly glided over the wilderness. Their most recent acquisition was barely visible, an ethereal shadow at the edge of vision, a vengeful wraith stalking through the woods.

It was hard to determine whether the Darklings or the Hunters were the true terror.

Okor vaulted over a mossy boulder, greaves digging deep into the mulch-coated earth as he pressed forward, the shattered fragments of his mind being forced back into alignment by his will. ”Hiro, it just occured to… me. What are we actually here to kill?” His compatriot paused, looking oddly at Okor from beneath their glowing goggles. “Ah. Right. Forgot you’re crazy enough to agree to this without knowing what we’re fighting.” Hiro mantled over a fallen tree, its rotting innards resplendent with new life growing on the ruined remains of its forebears. “The gist of it is that some corp by the name of Nebula’s flooding the Omniverse with these chips made of this dark energy shit, and it’s-”

”-Corrupting the user, driving them down the path of darkness, and fomenting… unrest that Nebula is taking advantage of? The blood in the air set his hearts hammering as he loped forward, the roiling emotions and instincts within his rotting brain momentarily suppressed. Hiro turned towards him, an 8-bit eyebrow cocked. Okor shrugged, shoulders shifting as he spoke, his body still dragging him forward towards the slaughter. ”It’s one of the oldest tricks in the… book, Hiro. Drugs call to the bored and the desperate alike. Propagate it enough, and all levels of society become septic.”

“Right, right. Keep forgetting that whole ‘Cultist of a Death God’ thing you have going.”

”Nurgle is not a Death G-”

“Whatever you say, big guy. Now, Okor, you take point. Madotsuki, head around the side. I’ve seen Okor fight after having his head lopped off, so don’t worry about him biting off more than he can chew.”

Madotsuki answered with a nod as they drifted off into darkness, twirling her blade around her delicate fingers.

“Now let’s go earn that paycheck.”

[Madotsuki]

Nebula confirmed that I could do this-- don't worry.

Screaming. Someone was in trouble. Madotsuki snapped her head around to stare in the direction of the troubled person like an owl. Her heart pounding in her chest, the others preparing to run, they gave chase.

Her eyes flickered from tree to tree, trying to locate anything of note. But then she sensed someone. ...Sensed? The dreamer suddenly became aware of everything she could feel, not with her five senses, but rather it was something she couldn't quite describe-- she could almost form a mental image of her surroundings, even when she had her eyes closed. The sudden addition of a sixth sense nearly caused her to stumble in shock, but she remembered that they were on a time crunch and pulled herself together.

Anyway, she glanced at a nearby tree; someone short was behind it, but was blocked from view via another tree. Over there. Someone was there. As she adjusted her view to see the stranger, a blast of dark energy was launched from that location and flew into the distance, electing an inhuman roar from some monster.

Worried that the person was aggressive, the half-baku readied her knife and started to sneak. She took a moment to glance back at her friends; they had already split up, however. Now that no one was watching her, she vanished into the air and lurked closer.

The newcomer was far shorter than she had expected, only topping about two feet tall. Their face was obscured by a red hood with a pair of thin horns-- never a good sign. They waved a staff (which suspiciously resembled a spine decorated with rubies) in the air, muttering incomprehensible nonsense as she fired off another blast. The caster mumbled another phrase, summoning what could be best described as emaciated dogs with massive claws, visible jawbones and dreadlocks. The creatures carried tiny imps on their backs as they ran into the horizon. They died almost as soon as they were out of sight, if the loud whimpering noises that followed had belonged to them.

If it weren't for the fact that this stranger lacked the black chip the Darklings apparently had, then the dreamer would've probably just slit her neck and disposed of an enemy early on. There was also the fact that they seemed to be fighting some evil creature, so that was enough to sow doubt into her mind. Instead, she turned visible, tapped the short person's shoulder, and phased out to avoid any reflexive attack aimed her way. Which had paid off as the stranger swung their bony weapon and missed the incorporeal dreamer. 'What are you doing here?'

The newcomer pulled their hood down, revealing that they were a girl with short, white hair, green eyes, and a young, yet mature face. Said face was scrunched up in an attempt to display anger... or fear... or both. "Trying not to die!" she huffed, her voice that of a full-grown woman. "What are you doing here?"

Madotsuki allowed her body to return to the mortal plane. 'We detected some dark energy over here.'

"We? Who's we?"

'They're over there' was the reply as the half-baku pointed in the general direction of her friends. 'We thought we'd find Darklings here, but--'

"That's why I'm here! I was investigating an energy imbalance when these weird monsters ambushed us. They stuck something inside Azzathec--"

'Azzathec?'

"He's my demon minion-- that Doomguard and I have been through thick and thin, but when that thing got inserted, I lost control of him."

'You can't summon another one?'

"Not while I'm under fire!" As if to punctuate that sentence, a bolt of dark energy wooshed past and crashed against the tree behind them, splitting it in half and launching it into the air. "Think you and your friends can help me?"

'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' Madotsuki replied, retooling her telepathy so she could shout at her partners from far away. 'GUYS! I FOUND AN ALLY!'

[Hiro Protagonist]

Hiro was easily the fastest of the three Liberators, his boots making little sign of his passing as he ran towards the screaming. His body felt electric, ready, tensed with potential energy like a coiled spring. He lost sight of Madotsuki as she went blurry and disappeared like a patch of haze, and the steady, loping footfalls of Okor's weighty armor beat out an advancing pattern that spelled doom for any who opposed them. 

-fwit-

The screams were coming from a village, thatch roofed cottages alight with demonic purple flames. Peasants clad in roughshod fabrics ran to and fro, chased by monsters of all kinds. Orcs, trolls, mercenaries wearing spiked leather, and strange demons. All shared one attribute, namely they pulsed with dark energy, visibly. With Hiro's high spectrum goggle vision, they resembled little more than violet spectres. He poured on the speed, determined to make an entrance and have this encounter spread across the rolling green hills of Camelot by word of mouth.

-SWISH-

"HHUUUOOORRRGGHHH!!" A Darkling orc raised his wicked weapon, a gnarled scimitar made to look like it was bone. Or actually made of bone. Pitchfork raised, family cowering behind him, a lone farmer stood against the wall of a burning hut, jabbing ineffectually at their attacker and his two minions, both glowing with purple corruption. "Back! Back, you monster! Foul abomination!" The man cried out desperately, fighting for his very existence. With a swift, cracking blow, the orc removed the head of the pitchfork and laughed. Deep and mucousy booms of nefarious intent accompanied the downward chop of his weapon.

Hay blew up from the ground as a blue and black blur interposed itself between the Darkling and his victim.

Then a wet meaty sound, and the orc fell onto his knees, headless, Hiro's katana outstretched and dripping with ichor as he paused, visible in all his technological glory. The suddenness of his appearance left both attackers and victims speechless and gawking. Lowering his head, the Digital Daimyo grinned. "Someone call for a rescue?"

Blades flashed, blood sprayed, and in the end, Hiro was left standing. He adjusted his goggles and looked back at the Secondaries he'd saved, waving them off. "Go. We'll handle this now." They nodded with fear and scrambled to leave the combat zone. The hacker drew his pistol in his off hand and crouched, watching as Okor charged into a corrupted man in armor, cracking his skull backwards with the butt of a rusted and glowing bolter, firing rounds into other targets and bellowing Nurgle's glory. "Fuckin' A, man. Let's get to it." Hiro muttered to himself, and dashed forward again, out of the visible light spectrum. The three Primes were holding their own quite handily against the darklings attacking the town, although as the hacker twisted out of the way of a dagger thrust and lopped off the offending limb, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was forgetting something.

Then that roar they'd heard earlier sounded again. Oh. Yeah. Right.

[Nebula]

Chaos reigned in the village. The three primes come here to do battle against Nebula had been thrust into a situation of doing precisely that, and all too suddenly. Grossly outnumbered, and yet they were holding their own quite admirably. The only major obstacle to be found was the giant, lumbering demon under Nebula's influence, doing its best to shake the very earth apart with its roaring and fury.

The giant, plodding hulk came smashing through the burning wall of what looked to have once been the local tavern, letting loose an ear-splitting bellow, and hurling a ball of dark purple flame at Hiro, even as the hacker curled into a backward somersault, kicking off the wall behind him to avoid becoming roasted ronin. The once-dagger-wielding foe was not so lucky, and was reduced to a pile of cinders after a moment of scream-filled agony. A huge, meaty fist rocketed forward, intending to knock the speedy swordsman from the air, but sheer bulk meant its strike missed, only barely catching the hacker in the wash of air behind the strike. It lost interest at that, lumbering away to continue its path of rampage.

The pestilent, plague-filled bulk of Okor had little trouble, barely breaking stride as he cut a swathe through the innumerable darklings assaulting the town. It was his, virtually, unobstructed march of slaughter than he beheld the primary source of trouble in the town. At the farthest edge of the town, there was a lone individual. Around it, several deep purple sigils, spewing smoke and dark fire, stood arrayed. The individual, covered head to toe in robes and shrouds, went perpetually through a series of rhythmic, arcane gestures, and at regular intervals, another darkling would come bursting out of the smoke from one of the sigils. And at the figure's waist, hung a belt laden with at least a dozen of the dark chips Doctor Regal had warned and spoken of. Several broken bodies lay scattered around, of civilians and the local militia alike, their weapons broken and shattered. Definitely a much tougher contender than the hordes it was summoning.

Time for a challenge.

Mission: Get to the Magus

The town is under siege by a corrupted magus, serving as a lieutenant for Nebula's forces. A powerful sorcerer, and the one responsible for summoning the hordes of darklings attacking the settlement. The darklings themselves are mostly inconsequential. They all have the survival power, but aside from that their only danger is in their sheer numbers. The true objective is to reach the magus and slay him, to stop his summoning and break control over the warlock's demon minion. It won't be easy, with said demon minion throwing its bulk and anger around, and the sheer number of nebula's forces lurking around and causing trouble.

Everyone has five days and one post, up to 1200 words, to see to the task. Happy hunting!

[Madotsuki]

Madotsuki and the gnome (who had introduced herself as Shinnah when they had a free moment) raced into the village, the battle already raging. Houses were alighted with fel flames, unable to be put out by water. If the beasts noticed the two girls entering, they didn't show it-- they had other problems to deal with. Darklings were getting wrecked left to right by Okor's immense power, but like a hydra, for each monster the plague marine slew, two more took its place. Her samurai friend, on the other hand, battled with the bulkier monsters, one of which caught the warlock's attention.

"That's Azzathec!" she announced as quietly as she could, pointing at the largest one. Its orange, leathery wings fluttered as if the torn skin covering the appendages could ever hope to catch air. Raising one of its two hooves, the Doomguard stomped down where the ronin had been just a moment earlier. This allowed Hiro to counter as he sliced across the demon's abdomen, although it left but a scratch on the monster's hide. With a frustrated roar, it batted the cyber samurai away with a gnarled hand. Hiro recovered quickly, but was forced to focus elsewhere when another large Darkling almost stabbed him in the back with a greatsword.

'We need to help them,' the half-baku communicated. 'I'll see if I can help Hiro. Think you can help Okor over there?'

"I'll try. Just... try not to kill Azzy, alright? We can still save him."

'No promises.' And with that, the two split up.

Deciding that she'd start off strong, she planted her feet into the ground and prepared the energy in her palms. She allowed it to gather, then launched the writhing, purple column into the side of the Doomguard's head. The demon stumbled from the impact, but swiftly returned to its feet and glared at the dreamer, retaliating with an energy blast of its own. Now the girl definitely had its attention.

She rolled forward to dodge and fired off a few crescents at Azzathec, who knocked away the attack effortlessly. Of course, she never intended for those purple waves to hurt, merely to distract her target as she ran between its legs. The demon bent over to grab her, but she phased out of the plane and slipped through its grasp. Turning around, she found the giant dark chip that had wormed its way into the Doomguard's back. Wisps of darkness fizzled out of the wound where the foreign object failed to cover it. Maybe if she pulled it out, she could defeat it easily?

She returned to normal and latched onto the demon's back, using the black belt that hung around its waist as a foothold as she began to scale its easily-climable, scaly skin. Azzathec thrashed, trying to knock the dreamer off, but she had already made her way to the chip and she clutched onto it, keeping her in place. Between the pauses, the half-baku tugged as hard as she could in an attempt to pull out the object. Slowly, but surely, it began to budge away from the flesh.

But before it could be pulled free, a sudden explosion of energy coursed into Madotsuki's body, blasting her away from the demon as she rolled across the ground. She convulsed as the energy raced through her veins, coiled around the chip, and pulled it back into place as it entered the wound again. Ugh-- what on earth was that? It was as if she had taken Nico's teleporter, except the transition was ten times worse.

And she could've sworn her skin cracked somewhere.

A quick examination confirmed that her skin had indeed been torn-- a long, scar-like crevice that ran from the side of her right eye that wrapped all the way around to the back of her head. It glowed purple, and stung, but otherwise she felt okay.

She didn't have long to understand what just happened, as a large club landed right next to her. The monster wielding the weapon stared down at her hungrily, reeling back for another swing. With a gasp, she phased out and ran as fast as she could to hide behind a house. She swallowed deep breaths, trying to formulate a plan as she recovered.

731 words. Used Night Slash, Ghoul Rush, and Phasing.

[Hiro Protagonist]

He was back in the thick of it, his blade cutting through air and flesh with equal ease. The crowd of howling monsters and enemies was far thicker here than it had been in Darkshire, but the pace and chaos of that melee was fresh in his mind. He felt sharper, faster, more in tune. Omni wasn't lying about the powers of Omnilium, since each time Hiro took an asskicking he came back better. Nowhere was this more apparent than here.

Disengaging from the large Doomguard, he flipped over the head of a corrupted dwarf, burying a tanto in the man's neck before pivoting on his shoulders and executing a wide bicycle kick, clearing the immediate area for a landing. Flexing his left hand, the tanto zipped back into it and locked with the magnets in his gloves. Another sidestep to dodge a scything pair of wicked claws and a smooth movement brought his shuriken pistol out of it's holster to spit it's lethal load into the attacker's torso, the monomolecular projectiles cutting a swath through the amassed Darklings and leaving them writhing on the ground in multiple bits.

The violence was staggering, but Hiro found he was enjoying himself. Moving through stances and maneuvers he'd only practiced on wooden dummies, and executing attacks he'd never been fast or agile enough to even think of trying. He was electric, untouchable, faster than a data transmission. During a momentary lull as the assembled Darklings jostled each other, now wary of the swordsman's skill, Hiro activated his Overdrive without even thinking, the projected suit of blue samurai armor making him light up like a mocking beacon, as if to tell the small army of Nebula's minions "Come and see.".

Dashing forward as a blazing blue streak, his tanto stabbing and parrying like a graceful breeze, he left trails of blood and ichor floating behind him, behind pained expressions and slowed down wails of oain and fury. His jacket hadn't even been ripped, he was so on top of things. The hacker ronin was plying a bloody trade he'd never had the chance to back home, far too focused to quip or shout, his eyes hidden behind the emotionless glowing  of his goggle. For a moment, he felt immortal. Godly. Perhaps this was what the Plague Marine felt during war for his God. It was intoxicating.

And then he was jarred out of his self by a hard, burning impact to his torso, Hiro looking down to see a molten purple orb trying to eat through his armor. Quickly, he dug it out with digital gauntlets and flung it away, where it exploded in midair. The Magus had targeted him, standing at the far edge of the battle while waving his hands in geometric, arcane motions, droning in an unsettling tone as he conjured up another burning projectile. A quick area scan confirmed that his allies were busy behind him fighting off the horde, leaving Hiro the most opportune path to the Nebula leader.

Sensing what was about to happen, he sheathed his katana and held his glowing gloves to each other, focusing on his breathing, his goggles throwing up a virtual grid for him to concentrate on. Everything outside of it darkened, his armor glowing all the brighter as perception began to slow in a now familiar manner. 

One

Two

There!

Hiro drew his katana in one fluid motion as the flaming purple ball entered the edge of his vision, swinging diagonally upwards in a righteous strike, his blue vector shielded katana splitting the projectile in twain, both halves turning blocky and angular before flying off in opposite directions behind him, exploding in a shower of burning pixels.

His full vision returned just in time to twist to the side and parry a slice from an iron saber, these Darklings closer to their  appearing to be slightly more proficient. Made sense. He was fighting off three of them at a time, only just now finally starting to feel the strain. Trying to conserve his energy for the lieutenant ahead, he let some of the Darkling assault hit him unimpeded, crashing against his armor over and over. Finally, the last hit made the glowing raiment flicker and die, and Hiro ran the attacker through, yanking upwards to split him chest to skull.

Panting, he stared at the Magus, atill droning and gesturing, lobbing eldritch bolts and summoning more Darklings. "Fuck this." Hiro announced, punching the data burn on his wristcomp. Dozens of his spiky red viruses appeared around his outstretched hands, and then he shoved them in forceful gesture, sensing the rollicking orbs forward into the darklings still before their commander, hoping to blast a path through. "CHERNOBYL WIPE!"

834 words, WHATTARUSH
Hiro used, hoo boy: All his weapons, Zero Point Defense
T1 Powerup: Ronin of the Metaverse 1 SP (3/4 SP)
T1 Super Attack: Chernobyl Wipe 1 SP (2/4 SP)

[Okor]

As Okor dashed through the assembled horde of darklings, corrupted creatures cloaked in an sickly ebon sheen scattering beneath his heavy tread, an empty-eyed goblin being sent flying with a contemptuous backhand. ”Slay the sorcerer,” he growled, taking a brief break from his rampage to look over his staunch allies.

They said you could tell a lot about a person by their fighting style. The Plagued Paladin had fought and bled alongside countless companions over the millennia of his existence, and such blood-soaked insights were rarely wrong.

Hiro, the Hacker, battled to his right, seamlessly flowing between practiced stances as their razor-sharp blade sliced through the maddened hordes of mutants, the transitions almost too fast for the mortal eye to distinguish. He ducked beneath frenzied blows, a subtle motion of his blade eviscerating his attacker before moving on to the next: A dangerous dance of death, each motion beautiful and undoubtedly deadly.

Madotsuki drifted through the horde, an ethereal wraith that Okor seemed to defy the attempts of the observer to pin her down, the only concrete evidence of her presence being the corpses she left in her wake. A simple blade became a worthy weapon in her hands, its point being driven deep into arteries and joints, long-lost humans and beasts alike falling to her efforts: There, an Orc bleeding from a slit throat, a red smile seeping crimson. Here, a knight whose armour and weapons had melded with his flesh; meat and metal proving no obstruction to the knife that had entered his eye socket.

An artist and an assassin, paired with an abomination.

Okor knew full well that his blessed body was as much a weapon as the blade clutched in his claw. Millennia of the Gods’ gifts and humanity’s finest minds had created a warrior that was by no definition easy to arrest. A festering fist dragged an ebon-drenched elf into the path of his blade, elongated claws scrabbling uselessly against his ancient aegis, the struggle quickly ended by the corroded blade cleaving deep into their torso. His foot impacted against their stomach, a sickening squelch being issued as their organs were pulverized, the fresh corpse being sent sprawling backwards into the throng. These were unworthy; a threat undeserving of an astarte’s attention. He needed something more substantial.

As if to answer his prayers, a roar shook the earth, sending the lesser beings surrounding him stumbling. A giant beast stood in the space between two blood-stained cottages, a horrible thing of tusks, spikes, and warped wings, black eyes weeping inky blood that disappeared on its ebon hide, violet runes pulsing with violent energy hovering a scant inch above its sable skin. Blood like tar seeped from scratches and cuts upon its enchanted skin, Madotsuki’s attentions plain.

Bile rose in his throat, the acidic substance burning its way through the soft flesh of his esophagus. Illidan.

No. It couldn’t be. The would-be scourge of Darkshire was possessed of a malevolent intellect; this beast was reduced to a ravening beast, its howls of rage and hunger resonating with Okor’s primal instincts. His bubonic blade fell to his side as he cracked his knuckles, what little self-preservation remaining in the Darklings driving them away from the titans as they prepared to clash.

”I’ll take down the... brute.”

Try to keep it alive. Madotsuki’s voice slipped into the back of his mind, impressing upon him the need for mercy. This foreign concept spoke to the long-oppressed shards of his psyche sheltered within his skull, each fragmented possibility screaming for salvation before they were snuffed out.

A low growl escaped his throat as he moved forward, denied the opportunity to baptize himself in the blood of his foe and emerge, renewed. ”Fine,” he spat, the earth shaking as the two monsters charged forth to meet in battle.

The Felguard’s clawed fist swung, scything through the air towards Okor’s skull, connecting with a sickening crack of bone. Shards of ceramite dug deep into mummified flesh as Nurgle’s chosen raised his arms, claws latching onto the beast’s arm even as it concaved his head. With a scream of rage, he pulled, flensing the corrupted flesh from the Demon’s forearm as he threw them to the ground.

Dust and dirt flew from the point of impact as the two dark beings struggled for dominance, the Plague Marine falling upon them, their claws interlocking as they began to roll through the rabble, crushing lesser beings beneath their combined mass. Bones cracked and snapped as they pitted strength against strength; the might of a dead Legion against a burning one.

Okor pushed the beast’s fists back, his physical limits ignored in favour of victory; cracked bones shifting within his sullied skin. It roared in dulled agony as its body began to fail, ligaments tearing as the Death Guard pushed its body past its limits, one final surge of strength snapping its wrists as its claws fell limp. Roaring in Triumph, Okor drove his head forward, heedless of the demon’s horns as the impact drove it into unconsciousness, a thick green tongue lolling out from between ebon fangs.

He reached out and grabbed the soft meat of a warped peasant’s throat, ripping out their esophagus in a rapid tearing motion that allowed their sanguine sacrament to pour over him as they fell in a silent scream, slowly rising to his feet as he settled his eye upon the sorcerer. Regardless of the throng of tainted creatures between them, he began to charge forward, drawing his blade while the darklings either fled before him or were ground into the dirt beneath his greaves.

A series of detonations drew his attention as he absent-mindedly crushed the spine of a spider-legged goblin, the unnatural abomination wheezing its last as digitized destruction reigned supreme. Razor-sharp pixelated shrapnel spread, a concentrated beam of data scything through the darkling ranks, sending whatever survived the Ronin’s ministrations flying, limbs and mere chunks of meat all that remained of those that suffered his wrath.

Amidst the carnage, he laughed, backhanding an emaciated elf coated in serrated spines back into Hiro’s line of fire, grinning as its weapons were sent flying into the soft bodies of its erstwhile allies.

”Take his skull!” Okor screamed, his voice thick with phlegm and spittle, hearts pumping tainted blood as he charged, blood-drunk on the battle, rusted blade swinging in wide arcs to clear the mutated and malformed minions from his path.

[Samus Aran]

A ‘Liberator Aide’, the scientist had called it. Samus couldn’t help draw comparison to her own ‘Phazon Enhancement Device’: first fitted against her will by the Galactic Federation, now adorned on the chest of her suit of her own volition. Much like this ‘Dark Power’, phazon granted overwhelming power, but overuse could steal the user’s sanity or worse. The P.E.D. was supposed to control and channel that power safely … an extremely relative definition, as it turned out. She’d seen three intelligent hunters fall to its corruption. And yet, without it, she would almost certainly have died at the hands of the Stalker.

“No,” a familiar voice within her assured. “You would have.”

She knew everything the Stalker had known. Those memories had been absorbed into her, along with all the power and omnilium the Stalker had amassed. So she knew it was true.

Would she face the same forced dilemma here? A choice between possible death, and certain death?

The ship’s computer buzzed. “You have reached your destination.”

Samus clicked off the manual drive and stepped out of her seat, into the exit lift. The cool wind greeted her, and as it whipped she stepped over to the side of the ship and looked down.

It was not good. Many of the village’s inhabitants had clearly been taken by this Dark Power, and witnessing this scene made the knowledge of its having spread to every one of the Omniverse’s worlds all the more terrifying. They looked like wild animals, but they moved like insects; with united, frenzied purpose. It recalled another instance of Samus’s past — the planet Aether, almost destroyed by a same such force of corruption. Could these people be saved or were they, too, permanently a part of the hive now?

The source of their ire turned out to be a few figures fighting back. Those who had already answered the call, no doubt. They cut through the darklings as though they were mere blades of grass. If these people could be saved, then perhaps there was a reason Samus was here after all.

The source of the darkness wasn’t hard to spot. It spewed them like a broken oil tanker; slick shapes oozing into life and instantly moving to join the horde. The magus looked like a twisted minister, clad in black robes and a tall, ceremonial hat. Samus somehow got the impression he hadn’t been an unwilling participant in this.

The ‘heroes’ were making headway, but there still stood an army of darklings and darkspawn between them and the magus. An army they would be forced to cut down.

The correct course of action was an obvious one. Samus made the decision. She bent her knees and leapt from the side of the aircraft, pulling down and holding the trigger on her arm cannon as she did so. Her Anti-Gravity Engine pulsed into life and blue-flamed jets at her back angled her towards the mage. 200 metres. 100 metres.

He looked up just to see a ball of orange energy. Then his head was bouncing off the ground.

When he looked up, he found himself viewing the barrel of Samus’s arm cannon. “Call off the troops,” she said. “Or I’ll be forced to terminate you. Five seconds.

“Five.”

[Nebula]

The magus stared back up at the hunter from sunken, black eyes. Long, greasy, graying hair lay splayed on the ground under his head. The ceremonial hat, decorated with gold trim and nightmarish emblems in equal measure, lay forgotten in the dust, rolling away as a tumbleweed in the desert.

As the hunter counted five, the magus did not move.

Dark, caustic fluid oozed from wounds already sustained. A few nicks and scrapes, from heroic efforts of those who had tried to stop him. Countless seared, burning wounds in his flesh and clothing, the results of the hacker-ronin's assault. His belt of dark chips was half blown off, only five of the original payload of the small devices remaining to be seen. Life was bleeding away from his body, in whatever fashion life still flowed through it.

The count of four was reached, the hunter's aim never swaying. The glow of orange energy, from her arm cannon, reflected in the glassy, black eyes of the magus. And he just stared at her. Not uncomprehending, not as if disbelieving, not even as afraid. The flat, empty gaze was filled with only one thing: complete disinterest.

The count of three was reached. Without the constant stream of reinforcements, from the magus's summoning, the forces were finally starting to dwindle. Slowly, just due to their sheer number and the few actually fighting them off. But they were being cut down and fading.

The count of two was reached. The magus finally lifted a hand. Arm straight up, toward the sky, fingers held perfectly straight. In the town, all at once, the darklings stopped. Stopped, as if struck dumb, frozen in time and space. Some of them stopped mid-run, mid-swing of a weapon, mid-jump, mid-roar. As if someone had pressed pause on their ranks.

The hunter didn't waver. The magus did not lower his hand.

Smoke and mist began to pour across the village. The frozen darklings and corrupted citizenry broke down, falling into pieces and dissolving into sludge. It poured and ran through the streets and through the air, drawing back toward its source: the emaciated, withered man, dispassionately staring down the barrel of an energy cannon. "I have called them off," he said simply, his voice unnaturally slow and heavy. It was grating and painful to listen to, as if spoken through a thick syrup, under great pressure.

The entire mass of smoke and sludge roiled in, bursting around Samus like a missile. Thrown off her feet, and knocked out of the way, the mass of darkness coiled under the dark minister, scooping him up and forming into a platform, at the top of a pillar some ten feet high. Massive tendrils of the formed up dark substance rose up behind him, poised to strike. "But they must go...somewhere. Don't you...thi--"

His words were cut off, the built up blast of energy in the hunter's weapon hitting him square in the chest. He staggered, crazily, his footing gone and pitched off his upraised perch. It sloshed down, splattering wet and thickly across the ground. And as it spread out, dissolving, and disappearing, the body of the magus was nowhere to be seen. Only his belt, and the handful of dark chips attached to it, remained behind.

Challenge: complete!

The magus is dead, and the demon will be freed from Nebula's control, now.

Damage Report:
-- Hiro takes 2 damage from being battered and wailed on by mooks who knew not with whom they fucked
-- Okor takes 1 damage for wading through things and not giving a fuck
-- Madotsuki takes 2 damage because darkness is bad, mkay
-- Samus takes 1 damage from being sucker punched by an asshole

Everyone is free to reap and/or destroy the spoils. You all have five days and 800 words to decide your next course of action. Best of luck.

[Madotsuki]

Madotsuki had reentered the brawl --electing to target not the dark mage-- but rather she focused her efforts with Shinnah in order to thin out the ranks of Darklings that threatened to tussle with the powerhouses. An elegant blade, a mysteriously organic staff, and a group of minor demons were all they needed as they charged through the backline. While the dreamer focused on weaving between and slaughtering as many enemies as she could, the warlock worked on escorting the hapless citizens who happened to get caught up in the mess, using her little minions as bait as she led the victims to safety.

Something mighty collapsed to the ground, and a quick glance showed that the plague marine had felled the Doomguard. The half-baku turned to see how the gnome would take the news, but the warlock gave her a thumbs up and nodded, apparently aware that the demon's condition was not fatal. Either the newcomer knew enough about the wounds, or she and the beast had some kind of connection.

The rest of the fight raced by in a blur until another person arrived, having taken advantage of the mage's temporary weakness that Hiro had supplied. In a space of a few seconds, the stranger had the enemy leader pinned to the ground with what had to be some sort of arm cannon pressed up against his head. Time seemed to slow down as the mage withdrew his army, only to have the resulting dark magic well up under and behind him. The two girls stared up at the new danger in horror, preparing to run once it attacked.

And then the stranger nailed him in the chest with a laser blast, leaving nothing but his helm and five of the chips. "Well, that was anticlimatic," said Shinnah, although she looked more relieved than disappointed.

Madotsuki shrugged. 'Let's go check out the damage.'

"Alright. I'll check on Azzy."

It almost felt awkward, running through an open field that had just a moment ago been ravaged by Darklings. People peeked out at the post-battlefield, too nervous to approach. Eventually the dreamer and her friends reunited by the newcomer, although the warlock was still tending to her demon.

"You chose the perfect time to pitch in," chuckled the samurai, holding out a hand for the stranger to shake. "Name's Hiro, by the way. This is Madotsuki and Okor." The half-baku nodded in acknowledgement, then walked over to the abandoned belt. She fiddled around with it for a moment before pulling a chip free. Seeing as she had nothing to store the object in, she stuck it into the inactive chamber in her gauntlet, a purple glow confirming that the energy within was ready to be used at will. Normally she'd leave it alone, but the armor surrounding her wrist would allow her to use it more safely.

"I'm Samus Aran," the newcomer replied, her voice slightly distorted by her visor.

Madotsuki returned with the belt in her hand, holding it up for the rest of the group to see. 'Hey, does anyone want one of these?'

At that moment, Shinnah arrived, Azzathec trailing by her side. While its wounds hadn't been fully healed, it was confidently standing on its two cloven feet. Now that the chip was no longer powering it, it had shrunk in size, although it was still several inches taller than an average adult. It watched the group as they momentarily recoiled at the sight of the demon, but it glanced at the warlock and pointed at her, confirming that it was back under her control.

The gnome stepped forward, the vigor drained out of her face. Okor would've recognized the phenomenon as a life-transfer spell. She gave a regretful smile as she spoke. "I'm sorry about this. I was investigating the errant energies here with Azzathec and we got ambushed. I bet things would've been a bit easier if--"

The ronin placed a hand on her shoulders. "We all make mistakes. Don't worry about it... whoever you are."

"I'm Shinnah."

'She's the ally I mentioned earlier,' the dreamer interrupted. 'We worked the backline.'

"Right! And... I'm in your debt. I mean, you saved me and my Doomguard, so if there's anything I can do, let me know. I could come with you guys if you want-- I could teleport the chip into the analysis station in Dalaran and we could help you fight. Or I could just take it there myself if you'd rather me go back."

Word count: 772

Madotsuki claims a Dark Chip.

Shinnah wants to come along. Whether or not she does, a Dark Chip will arrive in Dalaran for analysis.

[Samus Aran]

Perhaps there was a bit of hope in the gnome’s voice. Samus suppressed a smirk despite herself. She wouldn’t lead the gnome either way. Only she knew if she had the confidence to fight this war.

Samus was more interested in the chips. “I’ll have a look at those,” she said to Madotsuki.

The others took this as a cue to gather round and inspect the chips. The moment Samus touched one, she felt a tingle of power on her fingertips. “These might not be safe to handle.”

A chuckle came, as though echoing down a long corridor. “I’ll take my … chances.”

Samus glanced across at the owner of the voice and recognised him for the first time. One of the Primes who’d been fighting at the Nexus, who’d taken part in the huge battle against her one-time killer. Her immediate instinct upon getting a better look at him was to inquire after his wounds; but closer inspection showed that under the cracked and half-broken armor his entire body was a host to injury and … other guests. Samus she was glad her helmet had a filtration unit. Had he been like her, once? A hunter?

“Out of curiosity,” voiced Samus, “What world are you from?”

“Hmm …” The desiccated corpse rumbled. “A world of war. Endless war.”

“That could be almost any world,” the hunter retorted.

Her object of curiosity appeared to consider that for a moment. “Do you know of the Adeptus Astartes?”

Samus shook her head.

“Then you don’t know my world.”

Satisfied, Samus turned back to the chips. A black man, clad in a rather … eclectic combination of leather jacket, goggles and samurai sword, had already claimed one with a single word: “Dibs.”

Samus would have preferred a merits-based approach over the first-come-first-serve strategy, and the man clearly picked up on that. “… Unless anyone else wants to take a look first?” he offered.

“You realise these are dangerous tools, right?” Samus impressed upon him. She didn’t want to burn her bridges, working with allies was undoubtedly better than working alone, but … “I don’t want to have to cut down anyone who gets too much of that stuff in their system.”

“Neither do I,” said the man, and Samus could see in his dark eyes that he was serious. “What’s your credentials for judging, anyway?”

Samus bit her tongue and inspected the chip she had in her hand. Some text hovered above the image of a sniper scope. ‘ZERO IN ON TARGET AND KILL’, it read. The other chips had similar text: ‘MERGE WITH SHADOW AND STRIKE’; ‘LEAVE BODY DOUBLE AND EXPLODE’. It didn’t seem there would be any that read ‘Give a reasonable amount of power and leave your sanity intact’.

Then and there, Samus made the decision to use neither the chip, nor Hyper Mode unless absolutely necessary. Her armaments would suffice. With both her bombs and missile systems now in place, she had less reason than ever to risk her life on the quick-and-easy route. Damage to the suit could be repaired. Damage to her mind?

Further … damage

Might not be repairable.

[Hiro Protagonist]

The battle was ended. With a now practiced hand, Hiro flicked the blood off of his katana blade and sheathed it. The blood line on the ground was tinged purple from all the residual dark energy, and as the hacker-ronin trudged towards his traveling companions, he pulled out his box of smokes and lit one. The smooth inhalation and exhale of the seaside scented smoke made it easier to wind down after the rushing thrill of combat with the Darklings.

Introductions were made and the hacker busied himself with studying their spoils. "Unleash inner power, huh?" His wristcomp had several slots which the Darkchip fit into easily, Hiro booting up his analysis software in safe mode and staring at the raw data, trying to parse it. "This is some pretty powerful stuff right here...I can see why Nebula's using it."

As Okor and the newcomer spoke with each other, the samurai felt a rush of conviction. This shit was easy! Did no one in the omniverse have experience dealing with malicious programs? Hiro had written hundreds of scripts and viruses and safeguards on his computee. Hell, he'd even done what no one else in his home world had and dissected Snow Crash, creating an inoculation against it. SnowScan hsd isolated any instances of the virus and prevented it from throwing up it's damaging portions right into people's faces. He could do the exact same thing with these darkchips.

Withdrawing from the conversation, he nudged Madotsuki with his elbow, her tone maybe a bit too curt. "You did good. Nice moves with the demon. And our little friend here....huh?" He perked up at the mention of Dalaran and frowned. 

Suddenly a blue and black blur whizzed past Sinnah, plucking the chip from her hand. "Actually, that's not what's going to happen, lady." Hiro intoned as he reappeared. Adjusting his goggles, he went on. "Not that we're not...grateful...for your assistance, but I doubt a bunch of wizards and magicians are going to understand tech this advanced. That's Coruscant's purview." He looked down, goggles ignited with glowing blue light. "And as the foremost expert on technology here, and Imperial Agent to boot, I can't let these chips fall into the hands of people who might not grasp the scope of what they are."

Huh. That was..pretty good. He even believed it, aside from the nasty little voice in his head that knew he was just keeping it because it might mean the different between death or domination later on.

Before anyone else could react, he slotted the second Darkchip into his wristcomp. "I strongly suggest the rest of us hold on to these. I have to believe it takes more than one to get all purple and dickish. The magus had like, twenty on his belt."

Hiro claims two darkchips, Inner Strength and Body Double

[Okor]

”I wouldn’t say these are pure technology, Hiro,” Okor gurgled, his recent activities resulting in red rivers of blood running over his rotten armour, the host of parasites within him boiling over as they breached his leathery skin like so many microscopic whales coming up for air. He knelt beside the remnants of the rogue magus, the cauterized stump of their neck leaving precious little to take as a trophy. The plagued paladin pried a single chip from the warlock’s belt, holding the glittering black device in front of his single eye, still wide and hyperattentive as the scent of blood wafted over him. ENGULF IN FLAME AND CHARGE. He quietly rammed the corrupting chip into his armour, concealing with within one of the many cracks that ran through the once-gleaming artifact.

”Either this… Nebula's technology is too advanced for us to understand, or they’ve simply used sorcery as a shortcut.” The digital daimyo tossed his glass blade in the air, letting out a low whistle as he caught it by the handle, slipping it back inside its scabbard. “Well big guy, I can tell you right now that I’ve dealt with this exact same shit before, and it’s definitely possible to manage this with tech.”

”Really now? How did they manage that?”

“Ancient Sumerian mnemo- Okay, right, let’s just focus on gutting these bastards.”

Okor chuckled,running a ruined tongue over his rotting fangs, septic slime dribbling from his malformed maw. It was more like the laughter of an ancient hyena drowning in a tar pit than anything human, although the only accurate comparison between the two would be their dietary habits.

“I take it you two are familiar with each other?” Spoke the new arrival, Aran’s voice oddly feminine from beneath their sleek, powered armour.

”We met in Dante’s Abyss. Killed abominations, kicked ass, and… saved lives. That last one was a new experience,” he spoke, scraping his syphilitic sword against his armoured thigh, breaking its rusted edge into a new agonizing arrangement, red rust flakes falling against the blood-soaked earth. “And then, we fell in love,” spoke Hiro in a mocking tone, briefly posing by the hulking mass of rancid meat and corroded metal.

Pauldrons shrugged, warped and dessicated muscles shifting beneath synthetic flesh. ”Competence is a rare quality, even when the best of a thousand realities are brought together.” His eye slowly slid, focusing in on this ‘Samus’. ”You seem… adequate.”

“I’d be more worried about yourself. Are you certain you can handle those chips? I don’t want you turning into one of those things,” said the bounty hunter, checking the cannon that consumed their arm.

Raucous laughter greeted them as the Chosen bared their festering fangs in a mockery of a smile. ”If something as simpering as a sorcerous shard of silicon thinks it can lay claim to my soul, then it has something else coming. It will have to get in line, and make its bargain like the other thousand entities clamouring for my… service. I am Okor Paleblood, son of the Fourteenth Legion, Chosen of Nurgle, and someone described as ‘a badass motherfucker’. I do not intend on… falling to something so insignificant.” The flat of his blade fell across his shoulders as he rose, the bloody mess coating his armour slowly fading away as his host of parasites feasted. ”Who’ll be the next fortunate recipient of our… attentions?”

600 words according to docs, taking the charge chip.

[Nebula]

The foursome of Liberators spent but a few more moments evaluating the state of the fallen magus’ remains and the wreckage that their clash had wrought before moving on. Other such hazards would likely meet them on their path through to Nebula’s bastion, though they could not spare the time to worry about what could happen if the integrity of the verse was of any concern. With each passing second, the corruption spread.

The group moved in silence, save for the heavy footfalls of their more heavily armored participants. The rhythmic cadence of their trek was punctuated only by the occasional cheerful whistle of their designated hacker, or delicate whisper between the dreamer and her new friend. The forest at large seemed to hold its breath, the leaves themselves daring not even quiver upon their branches. A mixture of uneasiness and apprehension crept over them in equal measures as they listened to the increasingly rapid beep of their respective scanners.

“Seems like we’re getting closer to...whatever it is.” Hiro poked at his Liberator Aide, noting tiny blips on the radar steadily nearing their location.  He couldn’t be sure what each mark indicated, but he regardless knew they’d be in for a scuffle.

“We should be on our guard,” the bounty hunter stated, readying her arm cannon. She hoped that the group didn’t need to be told to keep ready, but she was nothing if not careful. This held true especially among new...acquaintances.

Another moment passed as tensions mounted, the shrill pings of the aides beeping out of sync. Okor had raised a single ebon claw to silence his own when their devices all ceased chiming without warning. It was then that they heard the noise that the scanners’ alarms had been blocking out.

“Is that...a dog?”

The group followed the trail around a corner just in time to catch sight of a medium sized mutt, its attention drawn toward a humble cottage in the center of a clearing. Blood dribbled from the animal’s ear, its shaky legs barely keeping the poor creature standing. It failed to notice the arrival of the Liberators as it continued to bark frantically at the open front door of the building, slowly backing away from the innocuous hut. Though it made a big show of itself, the weakness in the pup’s yapping showed more fear than aggression.

Before any of the newcomers could near the frightened critter, its assailant made itself known. The lone front window suddenly shattered, a murky liquid splattering across the clearing toward the dog as if thrown out by a disgruntled housewife. The canine let out a whine as the discarded pitch-colored liquid began to gather of its own accord, shaping itself into a three-foot-tall ‘pile’ as a child might gather sand at the beach. Long shards of glass bubbled to the surface, arranging themselves into a ghoulishly fanged maw.

”Darkling,” Okor rumbled, feeling the familiar intoxication begin to wash over him. He’d make quick work of the strange mass. ”Where...is its commander?

The foursome’s attention quickly snapped away from the frightened dog and the goo pile as the the cabin’s front door was separate from its hinges and flung across the clearing toward them. Samus raised her arm cannon in the knick of time, reducing the heavy plank to splinters with a well-aimed shot. A moment later the source of the aggression stepped into view, crashing through what remained of the doorframe and taking chunks of wood and plaster with it. A vaguely human-shaped mass of muscle and organ, nearly eight feet tall and six feet wide, stomped slowly toward them on thick, bulbous legs. The monstrosity lacked a ‘head’, instead replaced by a long, glittering tentacle, forming a ghastly trio alongside a similar pair that stood in where arms should be.

“What is that?” Hiro inquired, wrinkling his nose. “It looks like some kind of meat golem.”

Sinnah suddenly let out a cry as the previously ignored gelatinous pile surged forward, enveloping the yapping dog in an instant. The puddle seemed to overpower the animal immediately, wisps of vapor emanating from its loose from as it digested the meal. The group stood in a mixed state of disgust and surprise as the vapor dissipated and the entity split down the middle, reshaping into twin gooey dog-like masses that then turned to face them.

”The odds are shifting quickly,” Madotsuki said, knife at the ready. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer with the three monstrosities before them.

“Four-to-five now,” Samus noted.

The group momentarily pulled their mixed attention away from the towering abomination and the pair of gelatinous fiends to look toward the hut’s shattered doorway. A cloaked figure stepped forward, soon casting off the tattered garment as he made himself known. An older gentleman, quite nearly bald save a patch of white hair on either side of his head, dressed in the dusty formal attire typical of a scholar. Typical, that was, save that the left sleeve had been entirely shredded by a bulging mass enveloping his arm from the shoulder down. The mass looked metallic, a smooth and dull gray down to the elbow and a shimmering gold from elbow to hand. The limb was approximately three times as large as it should have been and looked to be just as flexible as a normal limb as he raised a finger toward the group. Dark mist swirled in his eye sockets as he let out an animalistic snarl, signalling his compatriots to attack.

Encounter: Mad Alchemist!

The only one here actively corrupted by the influence of Nebula is the alchemist, standing in the doorway. His corruption (and natural abilities) give him the following statistics:
Stats: 2/4/1/2
Proficencies: Physical Strength, Ranged Proficiency, Ranged Materialize, Remote Control, Debuff
Powers: Survival, Regeneration (Basic)

Left arm gives him powers to alter his environment alchemically, creating all manner of effects and allowing him to attack or defend from odd angles. On top of that, it's a sturdy, powerful bludgeoning tool.


The giant meat golem has the following aspects:
Stats: 3/5/0/0
Proficiencies: Physical Strength
Powers: Survival, Healing, Hive Mind

It has absurd defensive and regenerative abilities, and is capable of healing its allies. It's neither fast or agile, or particularly smart about how it fights, but it's tough as nails.


The giant glob of slime has the following tricks:
Stats: 1/4/3/1
Proficiencies: Physical Strength, Debuff
Powers: Survival, Malleability, Disassemble, Hive Mind

It is highly acidic to the touch. Fights primarily by flinging portions of its acidic body at targets, trying to consume them. Immediately takes on the properties (and general shape) of things it consumes, gaining new tricks or facets to its abilities.


Contend with this poor, corrupted man and his horrid experiments. You have six days and one post, up to 1200 words each, to do so. Happy hunting!

[Samus Aran]

The alchemist pointed his grotesquely overgrown limb towards the group, and the monsters leapt forward as though they’d been launched by a catapult.

The group reacted instantly, Okor meeting the gigantic flesh golem with a sword of fitting size. Samus darted backwards away from the charge of the dogs, and Madotsuki and Hiro each split to one side.

Samus saw the scene in her mind’s eye, plotting the position of every piece and prioritising targets. The alchemist who’d come last was clearly the one powering these things, or at least creating them. He had to go.

But then there was the problem of the dogs …. the massive golem was easy enough to get around, but those dogs had already caught up with Madotsuki and Hiro. Seeing this, Samus switched her suit to Predator Mode. The heavy armor that adorned the outside of her suit began to melt away, being quickly replaced by a closer-fitting, more organic-looking armor that Samus dubbed ‘The Predator Suit’, in homage to the greatest predator species she’d ever known.

As Okor – blade still pressed into the flesh golem – was pushed back towards Samus, she leapt up and over the charging colossus, her trigger finger clenched, and her body tucked tightly into a ball. She planned to do the same thing she’d done against the minister. It wasn’t broken, and there was no need to fix it.

But this time she didn’t have the element of surprise. As she brought her arm cannon down, the alchemist brought his mutated arm up, and they met with an explosive bang that threatened to throw them both backwards. Samus hung in the air for a pregnant moment before catching herself and flipping backwards neatly to the ground. The alchemist was forced backwards only a single step, his sneer belying his confidence.

A warning signal popped up in the bottom-left corner of Samus’s visor and she leapt upwards instantly. It had been the right call; one of the gnashing, frothing goo-dogs had broken away from its target to go after her. Samus let out a small, frustrated noise before opening her arm cannon to its maximum width, setting the barrel to spin and unleashing a hail of energy bullets down on the grounded dog. It let out bubbling yelps that sounded nothing like a real dog, twitching as it melted into the ground. Samus held herself in the air for a second, watching. Was it really dead?

It simmered over like a pot of boiling water, and the bubbles – translucent fizzing orbs of acid – began to fly towards her like popping corn. Samus caught a tiny fleck of acid on her arm cannon before she could initialise her Barrier Beam, and cursed as it ate through the barrel, exposing the delicate wiring beneath. The slimes were far more dangerous than they looked.

Might need to use … that, thought the hunter. Not from this angle, though.

As she held her Barrier Beam firm against the acidic onslaught, a column of purple energy crashed into the size of the bubble-dog, sending it splashing sideways into the cottage with an explosion of what looked like magic. Samus spied the more unassuming of the two assassins taking a breath as she relaxed her arms. She had the right idea.

The airborne bounty hunter surveyed the battlefield. They’d spread out a little more: Hiro was assaulting the dark scholar with a flurry of cuts that were almost too fast to perceive. The battle between Okor and the flesh golem was taking them further and further away from the cottage, leaving broken trees and shattered ground in their wake. Meanwhile the other dog was closing in on Hiro’s back.

Was it possible to line them all up, or was it too late?

Samus floated down to the ground, her hit feeting the ground with a snap of metal. “Hey!” she called out to Hiro. “Come with me! Bring him over here! Closer to the golem.”

Hiro didn’t break his gaze from the scholar, but he did take a few steps back, just out of monstrous-arm-range. Whether or not he’d understood, Samus had to act now. She began to run towards the golem, which was getting further and further away by the second. As she did so, Madotsuki and Hiro began to follow at their own pace. Samus couldn’t fire back at them without risking friendly fire, so she simply grit her teeth and jumped towards the flesh golem, whose massive frame was blocking Okor from sight. She zipped over its head and looked down at the plague marine – he looked up.

“Out of the way,” she ordered. “Just for one second!”

If Okor understood, he wasn’t happy about it. He sidestepped a lumbering blow from the meat giant, making room for Samus. She touched down next to its ‘armpit’ and placed her cannon squarely up against its fleshy torso. It turned its head to regard her. Samus met its gaze as her arm cannon radiated a halo of light.

“Three!” she bellowed.

It raised its right arm up, directly over Samus.

“Two!”

The arm began to fall like a collapsing building, as the barrel of Samus's arm cannon finally exploded with light.

“One! MOVE!”

On the other side of the golem, Hiro and Madotsuki darted to either side. The reformed slime-dogs turned to chase … but as they did so, a light bloomed from before them. At first a mere trickle, as through filtering through trees. Then, their empty heads turned to regard the source of the light. The golem. In that very instant, the light spilled out from around his fat frame, through the gap in his legs.

The Zero Laser enveloped them.

At the back of the queue, the scholar’s eyes widened. He took a step back towards the humble cottage. And then in the next second, he was flying through it, stone and wood giving way to pure energy.

Then it faded.

Samus took a knee. “Okay,” she panted, her weary voice only reaching Okor. “Carry on.”

Used Tier 2 Super Attack: Zero Laser (2 SP). 3/5 SP remaining.

[Okor]

Okor blinked away the afterimages that had scorched themselves upon his retina, the sheer power that Samus had channeled momentarily blinding him. He was a creature of darkness, of the abysses and charnel houses at the edge of sanity and space that all wise men feared. Acidic bile gathered in his throat as he brought his blade to bear, the charred flesh of the corpse-construct before him descending, intent on crushing the contagion-riddled crusader beneath its unliving might.

Okor more than matched it. With a dismissive snarl, the tormented and twisted mass of metal he had the audacity to call a sword sliced through its flesh,a glistening limb being cut free from its bulbous body, impacting against the corrupted soil behind him. Already, it began to reknit itself, more meat flowing from the folds of fat stitched onto its mass, whatever unholy application of alchemy and necromancy that animated it giving it regenerative capabilities nearly on par with his own. The charred flesh that had replaced its chest fell free, ash and blackened chunks of carbon being renewed as it advanced, a low moan being issued from somewhere within its tortured self.

Another bludgeoning blow came towards him. A tendril wrapped around itself descended, like a fist born from slick, skinless flesh. With an almost resigned sigh, Okor’s blade met its blow, splitting its erstatz fist in two, the rusted length of warped copper stopping only once its manipulators gathered the strength to catch the corroded cleaver. ”Path… etic,” he spat, wrenching his blade from its prison of pseudopods, a solid kick from his boot sending the beast stumbling backwards. He drew his bolter from his side, almost leisurely bringing it free, slowly leveling it as the hulking mass of meat began to regain its balance. The primitive consciousness that dwelled within the weapon more than made up for Okor’s flagging enthusiasm for the conflict, howling with rage and glee as it let loose its bolt, the explosive shell burrowing deep into the hulking creature’s chest, before blossoming into flame and radioactive shrapnel a moment later.

As the smoke cleared from the latest scar upon his opponent, a voice permeated his thoughts. The chasm his armaments had left was surrounded by teeth and fangs, scars and stitches along its sides opening up to reveal corrupted canines and insidious incisors, lithe tongues wrapping around the dirtied ivory as they all spoke in unison.

”Why do you oppose us? We are both weapons of flesh and bone, born to fight a war not of our own making. We are both monsters. Why fight along these all-too weak humans?”

”I am tired of explaining myself.” Stated the Plague Marine, another bolt blowing its left knee to disparate fragments of bone. As it fell to its knees, a shell sunk into its shoulder, shards of shrapnel scything through its flesh. ”For 10 millennia I have killed. My gauntlets are stained scarlet with the blood of innocent worlds. My soul is claimed by a thousand daemons. I am a betrayer. I am a murderer. I am a heretic.”

One of its tentacles sought to wrap itself around his leg, only to be pulped beneath his tread, his advance implacable. ”I am a monster a thousand times over, a blood-soaked veteran of the wrong side of history.” With an irritated grunt, he backhanded the beast, sending it sprawling backwards as it struggled to repair the damage it had suffered.

”And you are… vermin,” he spat, pointing his bolter directly at the center of its mass.

All three tentacles that the abomination sported wrapped around his legs, dragging him upwards, his bolter falling to the cobbles below him as he was thrown into a ruined building, long spears of lumber piercing exposed flesh. With a grunt, he was forced through the other side of the stone hut, rubble and ruin accompanying him as he rolled over the skeletal remains of its previous occupants.

”You would defy us?” Spoke the beast, its many mouths falling out of sync, each word echoed a hundred times from a hundred mouths as it propelled himself over the distance on its one functioning leg, its trio of tentacles dragging it along the alleyway. ”You will become one.”

Okor struggled to regain his balance as tendrils ensnared his limbs, dragging him closer to the ravening maws of the monster, gnashing teeth promising a painful conclusion to his tale in between whispering dark promises in his ear. ”You will join our unity, and you will embrace service under your new mast-”

It’s attempted conversion was cut short as shimmering Omnillium coalesced in Okor’s fist, a bubonic blade cutting through his bonds, its flesh necrotizing, a flesh-eating contagion spreading through wildly flailing tentacles as the marine moved. An appendage careened towards him, a desperate attempt to stave him off denied by the unnatural resilience of its intended victim. The Chosen of Nurgle pressed himself close to his prey, driving the blade deep into what passed for its stomach as its many mouths desperately bit at armoured ceramite. Already, the poison spread; flesh blackening and falling apart as Nurgle touched his latest child.

”When you get to hell,” whispered Okor, twisting the blade as he began to slowly drag it upwards, eviscerating the abomination by inches. ”Tell them to make room.”

920 Words according to docs, used Septic Shiv (-1 SP), 5/6 SP remaining.