[MS] Fortress Briggs

[Karl Jak]

​

The personal bastion of General Azula. An imposing and ineloquent bulwark of stone and steel (there's no snow though, this is a grassland, so those snowy peaks would just be large hills).

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
???​

A commotion in Fortress Briggs brought the contingent of feuding Miniskirt Armada leaders racing up to the parapets.

“What is going on?” Azula barked as she stormed into one of the rooms that housed some of the structure’s weapons.

“My cannon… jammed, Ma’am!” A soldier yelled with a slight squeak in his voice as he rushed to snap off a salute.

The general scowled as she turned back to Stheno. “Organize a team and scour this place for anyone who doesn’t belong.”

Before the gorgon could nod her head, there was another loud crash from within the complex, but this one was from just below them—the same holding area where the fortress held its only prisoner.

Elise, who knew full well where the crashes had come from, raced down, with Azula, Nico, and the other members of the retinue close behind.

The vampire found the doors to the holding area still open, and inside, a gurgling and wheezing Strazio with a dagger still plunged into his lung.

On the wall, a message written in the man’s blood.

“Long live the Queen!”

Strazio has an Major Injury (punctured lung) and a Minor Injury (he was smashed in the skull and rendered unconscious ... again). Some triage can make him comfortable, but he's not going to really enjoy himself once he eventually regains consciousness.

 

[Azula]

This entire post takes place following Elise’s last post in ‘The Burning Legion Travels,’ and prior to the above F2F.

“Ma’am,” a voice pierced the conversation meekly. Azula spun around to see one the guards from the parapets of the fortress standing in the door of Strazio’s cell, looking rather pale. “Um,” the guard sputtered.

“Spit it out,” the general ordered, “I’m in the middle of something.”

“You’re, uh,” she replied, “you’re gonna want to see this.”

Azula blinked. What the fuck now?

“Alright, Elise,” the fire princess sighed, turning back to the vampire, “have it your way. His bonds stay off, but you are responsible for him. You will stay with him, you will watch him, and if he does anything sideways, it’s on you. Do we have a deal?”

Elise glanced over at Strazio, who locked eyes with her in return. “Yeah,” she nodded, “sounds peachy to me.”

“Good,” Azula grunted, “let’s make sure it stays peachy.”

And with that, she turned and followed the guard down the corridor of Fort Briggs’ prison sector. She had no clue what could possibly be so demanding of her attention, but with everything and its mother suddenly needing her input, she was beginning to feel a tad bit put upon — but also incredibly important. About that, she had no complaints; the more the insects around her absorbed the reality of her worth, the better.

When they arrived at the front wall of the fortress, Azula stepped out into the brisk, cold air and snatched a pair of binoculars from one of the sentries. Just ahead, she saw a looming conglomeration of figures scurrying on the horizon — but these weren’t the unmade monstrosities she’d grown so used to beating back.

Hell Divers.

Come to try and plead for or fight for their general’s safe return, no doubt.

“Ma’am,” another sentry called out, “shall we fire at will? We can probably eliminate a good chunk of them from here, and they don’t seem to have fully comprehended our position yet.”

Azula held up a hand. “Just a warning shot,” she ordered. “Let them know we mean business, but let them live.”

For now.

“This is about to get very fun,” she smirked.

***

Some scoring for this section of the post:

Morning came slowly, and with it, a well-rested Azula. Everyone in Fort Briggs had been distinctly on edge since the Hell Diver unit materialized in the area, but the fire princess couldn’t have been less bothered. Her warning shot the previous day had been just that — a warning shot — because she knew, for once and for certain, that she had gained the high ground. They would submit. Perhaps they would try their hand at some treachery along the way, but they would, eventually, be pressed into the palm of her hand.

Azula watched the makeshift camp from the top of the battlements, silk bedrobe billowing in the cold northern winds. Baja Blast trickled down her throat as she observed the miniscule figures of the ‘enemy’ unit just a little ways off. From what little she’d heard of the information Elise gleaned from Strazio — the vampire was shockingly protective and frustratingly not forthcoming about their conversations — the person most likely in charge of operations there now was a demon named Altanis. This suited Azula just fine: demons and psychopaths were, after all, her people. While others might have shuddered to surround themselves with their ilk, the princess-general welcomed them with cautiously opened arms.

She sucked in a deep, preparatory breath. The last few days had been a whirlwind, between rushing to finish construction on their fortress, finding out their castle had fallen, and finally coming into contact with the rest of the regular, non-monsterfied people on this island. The general had never expected to have to deal with so much once she’d been denied command, and without so much as a peep from Mustang — but luckily, her instincts from her time as Fire Lord kicked in quickly and boldly.

“Fire again,” she spoke just loud enough for the half-sleeping guard posted near their cannons to hear. “It’s time to wake them up.”

As the guard scurried away to relay the order for a second warning shot, Azula swaggered back indoors, sweeping through staircases and corridors back to her general’s quarters. Certainly she wasn’t going to meet whatever emissary the Hell Divers sent personally — no, she’d selected the cat for that — but should this first contact go well, she wasn’t opposed to meeting this Altanis person. And for that, she needed to look her best.

“Ma’am,” the guard posted at her door held up a hand as she reached him.

“What, fool?” the general spat. “I haven’t the time—”

“Stheno to see you, ma’am,” he interrupted, only furthering her ire. But she stamped it down for a moment — she’d assigned Stheno to keep herself close to the team watching over Strazio and Elise, so if she’d broken from that assignment, there must’ve been something wrong. “She says it’s important, ma’am.”

Without another word, Azula pushed into her room, seeing her loyal bodyguard standing just opposite. The blindfold over Stheno’s eyes blocked her true expression, but Azula could tell from the way the rest of her face contorted that the news was not good.

“What is it?” she asked simply.

“It’s… Gilgamesh, ma’am,” Stheno frowned.

“The pretender?” the princess scoffed. “What about him? Has he come to join us as well? Set another seat at the dinner table, I suppose—”

“No, ma’am,” the gorgon replied, voice raising ever so slightly. “He’s… we’re receiving some reports… rumors, if you will… that he’s defected from Commander Mustang’s army.”

For the first time in maybe her whole life, Azula found herself genuinely shocked. Her eyes widened a bit, and she froze in her spot. She wasn’t surprised, per se, that a volatile presence like General Gilgamesh had finally shown his true colors… but something about hearing it, feeling the rocking of the event, it actually happening in real fucking life… well, to be honest, it left the normally quite talkative sass machine remarkably speechless.

She sighed quickly and decidedly. Something else she’d have to deal with, then.

“And Mustang?” the princess blinked. “What of him?”

“No one knows,” Stheno shrugged. “No word.”

Azula took a deep breath as the implications of that set in. Dead, then? She couldn’t imagine Gilgamesh would’ve defected without sliding one of his gaudy, gilded swords directly into Mustang’s backside. She’d met the golden-haired pretender only briefly, but she could already guess then that he was a fool and a problem; now, she was certain of that, and certain that her reluctant commitment for her commander had apparently been misplaced, as well.

She held up her rocks glass and swirled the last gasp of Baja Blast left inside it. She brought it to her lips and slurped it down, cupping the entire glass in her hand and immediately hurtling it at a nearby wall. It shattered, and though she didn’t flinch, Stheno did turn towards the noise with some alarm.

The bodyguard nodded, as if every fiber of her body understood the strange feelings coursing through Azula right now. “Shall I send someone for another glass, General?”

Azula bit her lip, both from nerves and from some strange, bubbling adrenaline building up inside her very bones. “Yes,” she nodded, “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

Stheno started towards the door without more fuss, stopping only when Azula’s hand clutched her by the forearm and forced her to.

For a moment, the princess stared at the ground, goosebumps flying across her skin. Moment after moment had come to her doorstep, building and building and building, until this. She raised her eyes and made eye contact with Stheno’s blindfold — she was glad to share this with the mercenary, who’d been by her side since the first hours of this competition.

“Yes, ma’am?” Stheno asked, innocently.

“Shall I send someone for another glass,” Azula repeated, “…commander.”

Time stood still for a moment as both of the women braced for impact. Finally, Stheno’s lips curled into a gentle smile. She nodded, and stepped away, leaving Azula to her own devices in her chambers.

Each breath passed in and out of her lungs like the harbinger of an evolution she’d been awaiting for so long. The girl swept over to her footlocker and carefully removed the blue uniform she’d grown so used to, holding it up before her and taking it in. She smiled at the slightly cropped coat, grimaced at the bluish-gray miniskirt… and promptly set them aflame.

She tossed them into the fireplace just across the room, and the blue flames danced, leaping to the logs in there and beginning to rage. She retrieved her old clothes, her normal outfit, from where it’d been stuffed at the bottom of the locker, and began to put them on. She slid on her dress and boots, then slowly pulled her hair back into her traditional tight bun and impaled it with her flame-shaped clip. She glanced briefly at herself in the mirror, smoothing her skirt with her hands and smiling softly at her reflection.

When she was finally satisfied with her appearance, Princess-Commander Azula of the Miniskirt Armada was about to set about her day when the chaos struck.

The last F2F begins here.

 

[Jak]

The T-800 waited for instructions as Connor angrily held yet another baja blast “Princess-Commander Azula” formerly requested. Hearing her voice clear across the fortress was one thing, calming her down was yet another problem. But he did it more than once and it required a hell of a lot of patience.

“Maybe you should go, Bob.” John muttered as fast as he could slurp a half-cold cup of dried coffee from a few days ago.

The terminator looked at John with his signature dried, emotionless look like he half gave a shit, half not. The T-800 frowned “You are supposed to be said to be a fated leader back home, do something about that, won’t you?”

John took a breath, muttering under his breath “At least this coffee is miles better than the stuff we get at home.”

He slugged back said glass and put on his emotionless mask as he held a “BIG GULP” of Baja Blast that the Fire Princess Commander had very specifically asked for in times of her anger.

It seemed like there had been rumors floating high and low about various problems both major and minor.

The fire princess/commander was already in her old clothing. Something didn’t personally sit right in Connor’s mind. Something big must have happened to Roy and the rumors were circulating that a King was claiming “ownership” soon.”

Azula muttered lightly as she was in little mood to talk to anyone.

“Connor, what do you want? Now isn’t the ti-”

He sets the big gulp of Baja Blast on the table next to Azula, and speaks through an emotionless mask.

“Listen, I know you have a lot of crap on your plate right now. But the most important thing at the moment is to find out who Strazio’s attackers are at the moment."

Perhaps his friend might be more useful at this very moment.

“I also have someone who can track signatures of enemies from far away programmed by myself in the future. He's used to blend in with others as a infiltrator."

 

[Elise]

Elise paced furiously inside of the medical wing of Fort Briggs. She marched up and down the treatment room where Strazio was strapped to a triage bed, having been sutured and stabilized for the moment. Once again, his blood was splattered over her clothing. Once again, she had to panic about keeping the pale man alive.

Nico had taken it upon himself to supervise the ring of their loyal troops who were trained in the art of subterfuge. They would find out who was responsible for this...root out the culprits...that was all well and good. Strazio was stable, she was here, and there were guards outside the room.

She glanced over at him as he rested. The pale halogen lights of the medical wing made his already pale, gaunt face look positively ghostly. He was hooked up to an array of monitors and basic intravenous drips. Karl Jak had made sure that there was no real medicine on the asteroid; just enough for a basic patch job. The sheets and floor were littered with gauze covered in diffuse, pink blood stains. Elise had used more of her modest medical training in the past few days then she had in almost a decade. He wouldn’t survive without a proper hospital, not in the long term, at least. Basically a dead man walking. Fuck. Fuck!

And yet...she could still feel his soul pulsing with every heartbeat. She could also feel the strange, psychic ghost within him exerting pressure on her mind. It was comforting, in an odd way...like being hugged by her gelatinous, octopoid familiar.

Everything was fine for the moment.

So why couldn’t she stop thinking about it?

It couldn’t be Azula, despite the stupid graffiti on Strazio’s cell wall. The general was one of the Queen’s most valuable bargaining chips, especially with the other Hell Divers pinned down just outside of the fort. Elise doubted that Azula would risk him dying - it was also the only thing that was keeping the vampire herself loyal in these treacherous times.

Whoever had planted that message had a poor understanding of subterfuge...but their skill with infiltration was clearly on par.

What about the enemy General? Elise didn’t have much direct intel on the one called Altanis, but she did know that she had a reputation for bloodthirst and brutal tactics. On the other hand, she was currently pinned down by immense firepower and seemed interested in parley. It could be a cover to infiltrate the fortress...but then why go after Strazio? If she was interested in disrupting the security of Fort Briggs, the timing was completely off.

Someone was trying to pit them against eachother. Or perhaps trying to weaken a potential rival.

Elise looked out one of the heavily reinforced windows towards the north, where the dark swirling storms of the Unmade Carnaval ran amok.

Mustang and Gilgamesh were the least likely candidates. Mustang wouldn’t try to knife an enemy General and pin it on Azula. Gilgamesh definitely would, but the Golden King had bigger problems at the moment, if rumors were true. Plus, he was too far off...Elise had barely gotten here herself before the magus got jumped.

It stood to reason that whoever had sent the assassins either had them embedded here before Strazio arrived...or was within striking distance. Her face wrinkled into a furious scowl.

That left either some other Hell Diver general, or the Unmade. The clowns were the most obvious culprit...but perhaps Strazio had been deemed disposable by his comrades in the course of trying to sink Fort Briggs into paranoia.

That still left the list of potential culprits unacceptably long. She drove her fist into the drywall, causing several of the guards to draw their weapons and shout alerts.

“Stand down. That was me.” Elise grumbled. She swept out of the room, giving Strazio one last glance, and marched out to find Azula. Currently the Princess-Commander was brooding in her ready room, along with some baby-faced soldier type; another Lieutenant Elise had not been introduced to. It occurred to the wizard that Azula currently had most of the Miniskirt Armada’s officers at her disposal. The Fire Queen certainly knew this as well.

Elise sighed softly. She had just barely escaped one mutiny. She really wasn’t in the mood for another.

“Not now.” Azula grumbled as Elise knocked on the door. The vampire rolled her eyes and stepped across the threshold, causing the haughty general to openly snap. Bout damn time.

“Don’t you freaks need to be invited into private chambers? I said not now!” Azula snarled.

“I need to get Strazio out of here. He’s no longer a threat and I’m not betting his life on this stupid game.” Elise said flatly. The general made a fiendishly quick calculation, and smiled with warm hatred.

“What if...I had something that could ensure his survival?” she purred.

Elise didn’t budge, but remained silent.

“Oh I see the look in your eyes. Yes, you’re being extorted. But I did bring a powerful healing item with me into this competition. Girl has to be prepared, you know.” Azula said, beginning to pace around the room. It was sickeningly similar to when Gilgamesh had been trying to brainwash her with his fealty bullshit.

“Get to the point.” Elise spat. Azula tilted her head in acquiescence. There was no point in taunting the vampire further, and Elise was clearly upset enough to do something rash.

“I have a plan to get those Hell Diving squatters off of my lawn...but Strazio’s injuries come at a convenient time. I suspect General Altanis is eager to survive this whole affair…” Azula trailed off. Elise rolled her eyes and dragged her hands down her weary face.

“Yeah I get it...you have one day to talk to them. Otherwise I’m taking him and my forces elsewhere.” she said. There was no darkness or malice in the statement...just plain, simple exhaustion.

“That’s plenty. You may go-” Azula started. But Elise was already gone. She stalked back down the hallway, right towards Strazio’s medical facility again. When his soul was within range, her pace slowed just slightly.

Then something occurred to her, and her pace quickened.

Elise stormed up to the bed of the albino magus and flicked his nose with her manicured fingers. Strazio snapped awake with a small gasp, and then squinted at the vampire looming over him.

“Hey. Idiot.” Elise barked. Strazio sputtered a weak laugh.

“Good morning to you too.”

Elise pinched her nose and took a deep breath.

“Tell me you didn’t stab yourself, dude.”

 

[Gildarts]

Honor is everything.

It is the code, way of life, and way of living. To honor one’s life is to live as a samurai. To honor all life is to be one.

The small-framed warrior knew justice. His actions executed it. He would keep his word no matter the consequence. He hoped the next steps taken would go as planned. He put his faith into the purity of his intention. And if it fell through, he’d put this belief into the power of his blade.

Ki’s right paw rested on the hilt of his katana as he raised his chin and let his gaze rest upon the heads of many men. The fur boy stood on an elevated ledge with his slivered pupils meaningfully touching every face he saw. The pang of sorrow smothered his heart as their eyes all reflected his silhouette.

The cat’s orders had been to introduce himself and that was it. For him however, there was always something more to say. The fighter wanted to unite himself with them. He sought to do that.

A speech is a version of an introduction, right? Ki thought as he took a brief moment to contemplate the message he wanted to send. Everything about this place reeked of war. He couldn’t predict how it would end, he wouldn’t promise peace in such an unpredictable time. He could, however, offer the hope of it. Battle or not, time would always bring inevitable casualties. They could be ambushed any second or never shed another drop of blood. To inspire was the only way to prematurely honor the fallen. For it brought purpose to death’s empty void. He didn’t want to announce death but offer a way into its acceptance.

“What comes next could be the beginning of peace.” The cat began, projecting his voice and using his surroundings and the colossal wall behind him as a sort of amphitheater for extra depth.

“My name is Ki, this is your first time hearing from me and though I may not look like much, I am a warrior just like you. The most important thing you need to know is that I will be by your side and no matter what happens, together we will leave a legacy by simply being the best. The most I ask is that you live for me as I will do for you. It is within every single animal and man’s instinct to survive.”

Ki paused, finding his words hitting a stride and his own internal revelation, “Hone this instinct with each strike from here on out. If our spirits are synchronized and if our purpose is pure, it will deliver us victory in the face of a fate that might tell us otherwise. Together and alone, we each carry the spirit of warriors. Together we fight for the promise of victory. Even when we are alone, let us fight for one another.”

The samurai launched himself from the ledge before them. Now they stood on equal footing, a wordlessly humble ending. One true to himself. His balance landed him against the gentle leaves of grass. Combined, each strand painted the ground a rich medley of viridian and pale gold.

They weren’t expecting a battle yet given the purpose of a samurai, he was always expecting one. With the echo of applause, he took it that his introduction struck something in them. However he couldn't push from his mind the thought that at the distant end of this war, they may all be together in the afterlife.

The lonely, hollow feeling of death filled him once again with trepidation and reminded him exactly what he was fighting against.

 

[Altanis]

The small unit warily marched forward, leaving their camp behind them. All of them were blanketed by a heavy cloud of wariness and concern for the thing they were marching toward, the distant fortress which they had already seen fire perilously close to their main gathering of allies. Marching right up to it like this was, as many of the soldiers in the uneasy group would silently point out, an unnerving prospect. They had seen all too clearly what guns of this caliber and scale could do to soldiers, in their charge into and retreat from that city…

And yet, they all soldiered on grimly, trekking through the grasslands at a steady even pace. Even if this was a worrisome prospect, they trusted enough that their recently-appointed General wouldn’t do anything to intentionally get them killed. Their minds were still worried, but everyone was firm in their grim resolve as they marched onward.

Everyone except, of course, for the officer in charge of the unit, who seemed almost completely unaware of the danger he was in. He strolled along at the front of the unit, nary a care in the world judging from the unbreakable grin splitting his face. He was loud and boisterous and cheerful, singing a random tune in time with his marching. He often fell back with the others to give a merry clap on the back, or running off after something among the grassy plans that caught his attention, or jumping in a sudden startled leap when the straw hat atop his head nearly blew away.

He was...probably not the first thing someone would envision in a leading officer, but he was what they had. He was at the least inspiring and cheerful, and helped keep them all from sinking too deeply down into the dumps, if nothing else.

After what felt like days to some of those assembled, but what in reality had perhaps been mere hours, Sergeant Demetri spoke up above the monotony of marching boots, raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

“Lieutenant Stretch. Movement ahead. Looks like it’s—” He barely had time to get half of his words out before the officer lived up to his name, and streeeetched over one arm and his head, eagerly snatching up the binoculars for himself.

“Where, where?!” he demanded, as the rest of his body ran over to catch up with his elongated limbs. He apparently seemed to neither know, nor care, he was looking through the things backward.

“S-Sir…” Demetri coughed slightly, stepping away from the overly enthusiastic youth, before slowly extending a hand and carefully flipping the spyglasses over. “There.” And with his free hand, he pointed into the distance.

Wasting no time, the Stretch Pirate shuffled several steps forward quickly, peering intently through the now-righted binoculars. “Oh, there they are! Now I see ‘em!” And his broad grin, if anything, grew even wider. “They’re from the Minispins Army, right?”

“The Miniskirt Armada, sir,” Demetri corrected. “And yes. They look to have been dispatched from the fortress to...greet us.”

“Cool!” the Lieutenant tossed the binoculars over his shoulder carelessly, reaching up to adjust his straw hat. “Then let’s go!” And he sprang into action, springing ahead.

“Sir!” the Sergeant’s voice immediately rose to a volume it hadn’t reached back in the camp, or when dealing with more…clear-thinking officers. The sudden shout froze Stretch Pirate in mid-step, almost comically so as he simply wavered there balanced on one leg, his head twisting around like an owl.

“We should be very careful about how we approach this. If we charge ahead recklessly, they might mistake it as an attack.”

“Oh, right, we’re not here to fight.” Just like that, the Lieutenant calmed down and adopted a normal standing posture again. “We’re just here to talk.” And he nodded sagely.

“....y-yes, sir, we are.” Demetri heaved an exasperated sigh, as several other soldiers in the unit snickered in amusement. “Shall we keep moving then, Lieutenant?”

“Shishishishi!” Lifting one hand up to lightly tap and adjust his hat again, Stretch Pirate looked ahead to the approaching retinue of the other army. “Alright, everybody! Dimmy-guy! Let’s go say hi!” And he proceeded forward at a far more sedate eager marching pace, arms swinging in a comically exaggerated manner with every stride.

With a simple wave of his hand, Demetri set the rest of the unit into motion as they started forward again.

* * *

It seemed like many more hours passed, though in reality it was likely much less time, before they pushed through and hacked apart a dense sea of almost shoulder-high grass. Pushing several paces ahead, Lieutenant Stretch Pirate came to a halt with hands on his hips.

A raised hand from Sergeant Demetri signalled the remainder of the unit to stop as he proceeded up to stand next to the Lieutenant and they watched as the dispatched unit from the Miniskirt Armada drew nearer.

“All units!” the sergeant’s voice rose up in a clear, iron-hard shout. “....at ease. Weapons down, no hostility.” There was an array of murmuring and relieved sighs, along with the staccato clicking and ratcheting and droning hum of weapons being deactivated and lowered to the sides of their owners. Demetri himself folded his arms behind his back as he stood at his Lieutenant’s side.

“Yo!” Stretch Pirate lifted a hand in greeting as the other side drew near, his grin undiminished in the least. “You guys are from the Magicspuds Array, right?”

“The Miniskirt Armada,” Sergeant Demetri cut in calmly.

The leader of the detachment, who seemed to be...a cat? Stepped forward and eyed the bizarre group with a weather eye, looking the Lieutenant up and down before sweeping an eye over the rest of the unit. “Yes,” he finally spoke up, voice calm and even. “I am Ki, of the Miniskirt Armada. And you are?”

“Cool! I’m Luffy, Lieutenant for the Help Diggers!”

“Hell Divers,” Sergeant Demetri helpfully corrected.

“And we’re here with a message from the horse-lady!”

“....from General Altanis,” Demetri clarified, with a barely-withheld sigh. “She wishes for a peaceful meeting, and for negotiations that may...benefit both parties.”

 

[Strazio Rockwell]

“No, I didn’t fucking stab myself,” He declared and then immediately fell into a coughing fit.

Elise watched, unimpressed. He shot her a glare and tried to cuss her out, but as soon as he sucked in air he started to cough again. Something was drawn painfully tight in his chest with every cough, and he started to feel light headed. The whole room began to spin and he pitched over and out of bed. With a solid thud he fell to his hands and knees. His coughing had turned into lurching gags and an acidic bile slithered up out of his stomach. Elise cringed and looked away at the slowly growing puddle of greasy inside juice.

“Come on bro,” She said “Get yourself together.”

Strazio shivered and wiped his mouth. His body had stopped self-destructing and he took a few slow draws of oxygen. The tightness in his chest relented, but did not vanish. His head continued to throb, hitting him with another wave of nausea. He swallowed the gummy lump in his throat and stood.

“Sorry,” He muttered, “It’s just that I’VE GOT A FUCKIN’ HOLE IN MY CHEST!”

A terrible mistake was made. Strazio wheezed and stumbled forward, clutching his chest. Spots appeared in his vision and everything went hazy for a moment. Elise stepped forward and caught him. Instinctually Strazio grabbed her arms for stability and caught his breath.

“You need to chill,” Elise said, mouthing each word slowly hoping they would sink in.

“You need to fuck off,” Strazio said, pushing her away and righting himself.

“Where are you going?” She asked as he moved past her.

Hand on the door, he stopped and asked, “Where the fuck do you think? I’m going to feed the motherfucker that did this their teeth.”

“Do you know who did this?”

Strazio paused. There was something about having multiple concussions and skull fractures that made remembering fine details difficult. In fact, having multiple concussions and skull fractures made remembering fine details downright painful. He clenched his teeth and massaged his forehead, discovering a freshly grown knot.

“I don’t know, they looked like someone who worked here,” He coughed, “Fuckin’ I’m gonna find them.”
“Nope, stop,” Elise said, grabbing his wrist.

Strazio growled and tugged at her grip, “Let go.”

“You are not going anywhere dude, not in that kinda shape, and especially not with an assassin skulking around.”

“I said, ‘let go’” He repeated, pulling his wrist and her closer.

“And I said you’re not fucking going anywhere,” She responded, effortlessly pulling his wrist back towards her.

The thought of headbutting her right in the nose and making a break for it crossed his mind. The sharp pain of even considering using his bruised melon for such a thing made him reconsider. Given pause, Strazio's mind considered the world that laid behind that door. The Lake of Fire had held more soldiers than Strazio had ever seen, and as petulant as she was Azula no doubt had a comparable force. Without magick, breaking free was tantamount to suicide by poor decisions.

“What do you care anyways?” Strazio asked, letting his arm relax.

“I care because I’m trying to keep you alive, dipshit,” Elise answered, “And you seem hellbent on making my job as hard as fucking possible.”

“Yeah, well, if it wasn’t for your best buddy Azula I wouldn’t be halfway fucking dead!” He shouted and then collapsed, wheezing.

This time Elise let him fall.

“She’s not my best buddy, and I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up full dead,” Elise’s temper started to flare, “So quit being a fucking asshole!”

In between coughs Strazio started to chuckle. He fell backwards onto his ass and looked up at the vampire. He smiled and shook his head.

“This fuckin’ hurts.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

Silence was shared between the two with the only sound being the hum of medical equipment.

Strazio looked away and said, “Sorry I punched you.”

“It’s alright, didn’t feel it anyways,” She lied.

“So now what?”

“Now, you sit tight until this whole thing is over.”

Strazio smirked and shook his head, “Come on, you know I can’t do that.”

“Yeah,” She said, “Yeah, I know.”

Another pause. Strazio’s mind drifted back to Demetri and then to Altanis. That horse-bitch was no doubt thrilled to take over in his absence. A few days ago he would have been more than happy to let her have it, but why did he feel so guilty now? Strazio, these are people, people with lives and ambitions and families. Demetri’s words echoed in his head. He had left them in the hands of that monster. To her, the Lake of Fire was nothing but a tool, a hammer to be used against her enemies. He had abandoned them.

“I can’t stay here,” He said, “I can’t let my soldiers die.”

“Seriously? ‘I can’t let my soldiers die’,” Elise mocked him and laughed, “You’re so fucking lame.”

“Hey, I’m serious, help me and I’ll let you do whatever stupid magic stuff you wanna do to me.”

Elise sighed, long and slow, “I’ll do what I can Straz, but no miracles and you really gotta start thinking about self-preservation more, like seriously what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What can I say, I’m built different.”

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

The fortress had, at first, promised a sense of security for the burning legion. However, this had been undermined the instant that their prisoner had turned up shanked and unconscious in his cell. More cowardice! The mutant warrior wasn’t going to stand for such underhanded tactics anymore. If whoever was responsible couldn’t fight her face to face, then she would just need to drag them, kicking and screaming, from their hiding place.

“Keep looking.” Stheno growled to her team. “We’re not going to rest until we find these rats that we’ve got creeping around.”

The group of soldiers murmured in agreement, their weapons at the ready for any even remotely suspicious looking characters sneaking around the fortress. From the way that the legionnaires glanced around anxiously, fingers on their triggers, the gorgon could tell that everyone in the small squad was feeling the same way about the situation that they had found themselves in.

“What do we do if we find them?” One of the soldiers asked tensely. “We just gonna kill ‘em?”

“I’d love to pop one of the bastards between the eyes.” Another grunted. “They deserve it if they’re going to be creeping around and stabbing prisoners.”

“Trust me, I want to rip ‘em limb from limb as much as you guys.” Stheno hissed, Ladon in one hand and her pistol in the other. “But we’re going to have to be satisfied with just roughing them up. Gotta do our best to bring them in alive.”

“For questioning?” The first soldier inquired.

“Yeah, mainly.” The warrior replied. “Though, I do figure that our prisoner and his… friend, I guess, would like to get their hands on our intruders too. Can’t hurt to let ‘em bust a few skulls.”

There was no more input from the squad, apparently satisfied with the reasoning behind the response, if a little annoyed that they wouldn’t be the ones putting down any saboteurs caught red-handed. Stalking through the halls of the fortress, the team spotted a single man standing in the hall, a mystified look on his face as he held a piece of paper in one hand while holding his helmet under his arm in the other.”

“Hey, you!” One of the soldiers growled, her rifle raised and trained towards the man. “State your name and business.”

“Huh?” He asked, turning around with an even more confused look on his face. As soon as he saw the group striding towards him, he quickly turned pale. “H- wha- huh?”

“You heard her.” Stheno growled. “Name and business.”

“P-private Jeremy Fielder.” The man gasped, dropping the piece of paper and his helmet as he rushed to stand to attention. “I-I got lost finding my bunks, ma’am.”

One of the members of the squad flipped through a manifest of the armada’s soldiers as the gorgon crouched down, examining the paper that the private had dropped. Rather than any secret instruction as she might have suspected, it was simply the name of his living quarters with some basic directions. Still, she couldn’t rule out any secret codes from a single glance.

“He’s clear.” Her squadmate said with a nod after what seemed like an eternity. Returning the gesture, the berserker handed the private back his helmet and the paper.

“Sorry, soldier, you’re free to go.” Stheno sighed before pointing down the hall. “By the way, your bunks are that way.”

“Oh, thank you.” He gasped, taking his things back before saluting once and speed-walking back down the corridor.

“Another dud.” One of the squad groaned.

“Yeah… let’s just keep going.” The warrior agreed before leading the hunt once more.

 

[Gildarts]

Somewhere along the lines, he had bowed.

The feline’s yellow eyes remained fixed on the men before him, the dynamic was curious to say the least. That last part, a peaceful meeting, he felt himself hoping. His pacifist spirit yearned for a concord and perhaps he could be the one to deliver it.

“My superior wants the same that you do.” Ki responded stoically. First impressions told the cat that one of the men was straightforward, the other was somewhere along the lines of lighthearted.

Behind the samurai, there was an assembly of men with their weapons at ease, a small portion of which were sitting cross-legged with their eyes closed. Ki had invited them to meditate, though when voices began to emerge there were an array of peeking eyes.

The furry warrior began calmly, “I know we have similar interests and we also each have something we can offer one another that the other wants. I truly believe we can come to a conclusion and have our superiors meet in order to solidify negotiations.”

As Ki continued to talk, Luffy’s eyebrows continued to raise from shock. Initially, he had thought that a voice was coming from one of the other soldiers but with the small mammal’s lips moving and words still coming out he couldn’t contain his shock. “You’re really a talking cat, huh?”

Demetri’s eyebrows raised in exasperation. He sent an elbow into the man’s ribs and cast him a gnarly side eye. Before the man could respond, Ki interjected with a pleasant smile. “Yes, I’m also a samurai, the last of my clan.”

“That’s so cool!” Luffy exclaimed gleefully. “I’d like to make the deal now!”

“Uh, that isn’t exactly how it works.” Demetri pointed out.

“General horse-lady will-”

“Altanis,” Demetri corrected.

“Gladly meet you!” Luffy’s excitement was rather contagious. Yet it rolled right over the outraged Demetri who was immediately frustrated that he’d interjected in the first place. Painted on the man’s face was a mosaic of confusion and rage. They’d skipped multiple steps. The man was immediately soothed when the enemy’s leader kept them back on track.

Ki’s head tilted confusedly at the abrupt jump of pace and inquired, “Alright, what shall the terms be? I suggest the meeting be near singular. Two individuals each. A superior and an escort of sorts on a space where each could return safely to their numbers if the negotiations turn sour. I’m afraid I’m not in the position to agree to request the particular individual you may be seeking to this meeting, that all shall be discussed there. I know it would be all too easy to have this end in violence, the harder path will always be peace, but that is why it should always be the first we choose.”

Ki had his own concerns about his hotheaded superior being able to cordially make a deal, rather he assumed she would bully her way through it. But if they were on even terms, it might be favorable to have some of the intimidation forces more or less restrained or out of immediate reach.

Demetri squinted his eyes, “Allow us to think on this for a moment. Luffy, come back here and let us discuss.”

They stood some paces away, yet for Ki’s triangular ears and the wind carrying their voices it only allowed for the illusion of privacy.

“What is it Dimmy?” Luffy asked innocently.

“You know we have to be a little more collected, asking him why he has a tail isn’t really the right move, got it?” Demetri grunted at the mistake.

“I donno, I think he enjoyed talking about his heritage. He seems to have a good heart and I want to trust him!” Luffy couldn’t keep his smile unbound.

“That’s exactly why they chose him to talk to us.” The skeptic rebuked bitterly. “He’s civil, but you know we can’t trust anyone from the Miniskirt Armada.”

Luffy’s naivety turned to childlike wisdom, “Just because the Jelly Divers and the Merrysmarts don’t see eye to eye, doesn’t mean they can’t in the future.”

“It’s just,” Demetri felt a spot in his heart soften when he felt the urge to correct the skinny lad, “Things could go south too easily. A lot has happened. Trust must be earned. They need to prove their intentions.”

“You know what we need?” Luffy held his idea finger up, “A giant window!”

Demetri rubbed his fingers against his forehead. He had hoped he’d gotten somewhere with Luffy, but it seemed he had not. Still, he played along. “Why?”

“Because you want transparency but also to keep your distance! What if we put that between General Alta and their cat-guy? It’s like a cease-fire promise!” Luffy closed one eye and held up his two thumbs into corners as he looked toward a clear sky imagining a square window.

“That… Well, there might be a small point in there. But there isn’t exactly glass like that around anywhere. We need something more natural. A self-defending, neutral spot. Did you notice anything on our way in?” Demetri said flatly as he replayed his memory, envisioning swashes of a canopy of emerald and pastel blue sky.

Luffy took a breath and exclaimed, “What we need is a really really big waterfall!”

 

[Altanis]

“A waterfall…” Demetri murmured. For several seconds he was quiet, before he fished among the supplies on his person and quickly withdrew a map. It wasn’t exactly a bad idea, and while he couldn’t remember the exact spot he was sure he had seen something that fit the bill nearby.

Unrolling it he scanned over its surface, tracing a finger along before finally stopping to tap at one particular place. “There are several rivers in the nearby area...would this location be suitable, Lieutenant?”

Stretch Pirate leaned in to scrutinize the map closely, eyes squinting tightly. “Yeah!” He grinned excitedly. “That should work great!”

“Very well, then, sir.” The sergeant nodded simply. “As for the matter of the General meeting alone, shall we—”

“Don’t worry so much, Dimmy.” The pirate officer just clapped his sergeant on the back heartily, his arm resting around the older mans’ shoulders. “We’ll still be close by, in case anything happens, right? And besides! The general is smart! She’ll be fine.”

“But sir, I…” For a fleeting moment, Demetri seriously considered trying to bring up all the reasons why that still wasn’t the best idea. But eventually...he realized it was just going to be a losing battle and sighed wearily. “...alright, Lieutenant.”

And with completely unhindered enthusiasm and resolve, Stretch Pirate turned to waltz back into casual conversation range. “Alright, we decided!” And he stuck out one arm, pointing at Ki. “A private meeting, just like you said!”

Demetri stepped forward, quickly marking on his map and turning it around to show the feline samurai. “We have some suggestions here for possible meeting sites that should prove adequate neutral ground. Easily seen and fairly open ground, but with little room for any large gathering of forces in close proximity.” He pointed out the sites he had marked as he spoke, each of them along rivers and near to waterfalls. “A single person, or small group, could easily and quickly traverse the terrain however.”

Ki strode forward calmly, peering intently at the map as he silently judged the options. Eventually, he reached up and tapped at one of the marked spots. “Here.” He looked up at the sergeant, then the Lieutenant. “If there are no objections.”

Demetri glanced down at the map and shook his head.

Stretch Pirate craned his head over, looking down and just laughed. “That’s’ where we thought would be best, too!”

Ki nodded simply, stepping back. “Then we have an agreement, for now. I will pass along the message to my superior.”

Demetri rolled up the map again. “Do you need this copy of the map to remember the location?” he offered, only to be met with a shake of the head from the furry warrior.

“Alright! We’ll go tell General Artwork where to meet your boss!” He adjusted his hat, with an excited chuckle. “Let’s make sure we end up as friends, so we can work together, alright?” And he extended a rubbery hand down to the cat.

For a moment, Ki simply stared back up at the strange youth, before he accepted the offered hand, with a firm and polite handshake. “I hope this has favorable results for us both, as well.” And he stepped back, turning about to give the signal to his troops to begin heading back to the fortress.

“Yosh!” Stretch Pirate hopped up and spun about in midair, in an impromptu airborne about face. “Let’s get back to camp, then!”

“Affirmative, sir.” Demetri carefully stowed the map away again and stepped toward the rest of the unit. “Wrecking Crew, move out! Back to camp!”

An affirmatory shout went up from the troops, as they set about a quick about face of their own, and set pace back into the grasslands.

 

[Azula]

This was it.

Barely a day into her tenure as Princess-Commander, things in the Miniskirt Armada had gone incredibly off-kilter. The emergence of the pretender, Gilgamesh, down south had demanded her attention for most of the day, but the fire princess couldn’t turn her focus away from the unmade for long. The monsters lurked just to her north — and closer than anyone expected. Between Strazio’s near death and the cryptic note slid under her door in the dead of night, someone was fully inside her fortress, and Azula planned to find out who it was. Stheno and Elise had been dispatched, along with every espionage-minded soldier she could find, to root out the culprit, but thus far nothing had turned up. She wouldn’t let the unmade destroy her base of operations like they destroyed the Miniskirts’ castle.

These were the thoughts and anxieties bouncing through the newly-minted commander’s head as she and Stheno trekked down from Fortress Briggs to the base of a river than ran through an adjacent hill. As they headed to a river, of course, to confront yet another headache-inducing problem: the arrival of Hell Diver troops on their very doorstep.

Azula had hesitantly agreed to meet with the general of the group, Altanis, mostly alone, in a neutral area. Yes, quite technically, Azula’s definition of a neutral area was a place her mortar cannons could still fire off shots and destroy the Hell Divers, but she could grapple with her distinct paranoia later. Perhaps it had been the assassination attempt in Ursa that had brought her pause, or the attack on her prisoner under her very nose — either way, tensions were running high going into this meeting, and Azula’s anxiety was higher.

She couldn’t show it, though. This was her first real action as commander — a fact she doubted Altanis was yet aware of — and she had to do it right. There was… so much on the line, so much to prove, so much to accomplish, and quickly. She’d spent most of the day going over maps and soldier manifests, examining what she had left, and searching for ways to most effectively utilize and expand her resources.

Altanis was step one.

The small waterfall beat down on the river below, almost completely masking the hoof-steps of the demoness as she approached with an escort that made Azula’s face scrunch and stomach turn.

This motherfucker? she thought, placing a hand on her hip and rolling her eyes at the sight of the monstrosity Malloki from the library. She squinted as Altanis approached — why the hell would she deign to bring someone so volatile to these peace negotiations? Was she planning something foolish? Azula herself had told Stheno to be on high alert for any funny business, especially given the double warning shots she’d sent that no doubt had pissed some of the Hell Divers off, but bringing the voodoo brute was almost… comically offensive.

“You must be Azula,” the centaur said as she approached the edge of her side of the waterfall. The two leaders were separated by a small chasm — not enough of a drop to kill either party upon a fall, but insurance against an immediate lashing out nonetheless.

For people who can’t shoot fire, anyway.

“That’s Princess-Commander Azula to you,” Stheno piped up, placing her hands behind her back dutifully. Altanis’ head quirked toward the gorgon, then back at the fire princess.

“…Commander?” she blinked, and Azula nodded.

“A recent development,” the Princess-Commander shrugged, “and one that, unfortunately, factors greatly into our negotiations… Altanis?” It was less a question and more of a confirmation, one which the horse woman was more than happy to provide.

“You’re wise to remember,” the demoness almost smiled.

“I never pretend not to be,” Azula crossed her arms.

“Mmmm,” Altanis spoke up, holding up a hand. “I’d argue it would’ve been wiser for you to let those mortars fall on my unit before I came to take back my comrade. Why didn’t you attack when you had the opportunity?”

“I still have the opportunity,” Azula clarified, and Altanis’ expression quickly drooped into a frown. “And trust me when I say the thought crossed my mind. But I think you and I both know we’ve more pressing problems to deal with than destroying each other’s forces over meaningless squabbles.”

“You took our general—”

“—personally,” Azula smirked. Altanis’ scowl grew larger as the fire princess’ grin spread from cheek to cheek. “Just to prove that I could.”

“Couldn’t do it without breaking an arm,” the horse woman mocked.

“Sacrifices must be made,” Azula said simply. “As they must today — we both must shirk our pride and come together for some common goals.”

Altanis took in a deep breath. “I’m listening.”

“I watched your unit almost get buried underneath the clown’s ferocity,” the Princess-Commander explained, “and I simply can’t allow It to continue any further with Its nonsense, not if either of us want to have a chance at winning this war. I don’t care that It eats people, or that It is psychopathic and sadistic.”

She paused for just a moment. “I care that It is annoying.”

Altanis’ expression was almost unreadable, so Azula continued.

“Similarly annoying,” she proceeded, “is the new threat to the south. I assume you’ve heard of… Gilgamesh?”

“Rumors,” Altanis nodded.

“Well, believe them,” the fire princess clapped her hands, stepping forward to the edge of her side of the chasm. “He’s presumptuous, highly irritating, and scuttling around just a few leagues south of us. We’ve got clowns on either side, Altanis, and I’ve got to find something to do about them.”

“So what’s your proposal?” the centaur asked.

“Join me,” Azula offered. “Join me, and my Burning Legion, against the threats above and below. Join me in eradicating anyone on this island who dares not to bow to the power of women like us.”

She smiled, here. Genuinely.

“Join me, Altanis, and let’s watch them burn.”

 

[Karl Jak]

A handful of people have gotten sick overnight.

"What have the Hell Divers done for us?" was found grafitti'd in a hallway.

"Azula fiddles while the clown burns (the island) " found in the mess hall.

 

[Jak]

The terminator never slept. He was busy around the clock, watching, waiting for the time for orders from Connor’s command. Today was special, however. Lt. Connor was awakened by one of his soldiers briefly saluting him and running out.

“New orders, Connor. It’s from Princess Commander Azula herself.”

Connor sat up off his cot and took a swig of day-old coffee from his canteen and looked up “What is it, soldier?” He slugged it down and sat up, eagerly listening to his man reading off the orders Azula had for him.

“Also, Welcome to the fold, General Connor.”

Connor swore he felt his heart skip for a second.

He heard what the man said, but he couldn’t believe it.

“Hm? Did I hear you right?” Connor thought he swallowed his coffee down the wrong pipe.

“Yes, sir.” The everyman soldier turned and walked out.

Sitting up made him think of the thirty years of war he’d been through already and he recalled being on top of a broken tower holding a american flag while men and women around him cheered him on.

Here however there was a much different flashback.

He held up a flag of Azula’s with his men’s cheers echoing around him. It felt like a rush of nostalgia passing over him.

A dramatic wind passed over his clothing while he held binoculars while the terminator stood below watching in between his men.

The flashback ended abruptly when Connor finished setting up his General tent and there was already chaos happening inside the castle. Somehow a few of the men had fallen sick with no causes.

 

[Altanis]

After the proposal was made, Altanis remained silent in return for what seemed a long, long time. Her expression was inscrutable, golden eyes peering down with an unblinking, unflinching stare at the newly-minted Commander across from her.

The only sign of movement that came from the hellspawn was one finger, lightly twitching and tapping against her opposite arm, as she held them folded and crossed before her.

So that was the lay of things here, was it… She had certainly sensed some degree of turmoil among the island recently, even beyond what had been occurring in the vicinity of her own troops. The fact that an entire army had shattered to such an extent that its Commander had changed entirely, however…

This definitely put things in a new light.

Though the demon was entirely certain that if it truly came down to it, things would not at all go the way that Azula seemed to think, it would in the end be a pointless fight. While undoubtedly she could still have her fortress fire upon and cause significant damage to the Hell Divers...the likelihood of them being completely destroyed was minimal. They already knew where the fortress itself was, and now the Commander herself had emerged directly, with only a lone guard, putting herself in the open.

Whether in the name of confidence or arrogance it hardly mattered at this juncture.

That said, though...in terms of who had the stronger position, it was clear enough to see. As much as it was an unpleasant thought to admit, victory wasn’t certain — for either side, especially after having seen the leadership at play. The situation was precarious, indeed...but still, manageable. Very manageable.

“Well then, Princess-Commander Azula…” Finally, when Altanis spoke again, her words were even and carefully measured. “You have a strong hand indeed to play. And you have played it well.” She smirked ruefully, shaking her head. “When it comes to these negotiations, it seems I have little ground to stand on, so to speak.”

“The fact you realize that speaks well of you.” Azula watched the centaur intently. “So, then...your answer?”

“In the immediate sense, I find your proposal...agreeable.” Altanis’s expression went neutral again. “My entire purpose for joining this event was the study and extermination of those…clowns to the north. And it has become clear enough to me that, in spite of any level of pride or ability I may have, the fortifications and obstacles they have built are insurmountable alone.”

“This...event. I do not care for sides or teams, nor do I care who wins in the end. Such things are trivial, and all but meaningless. To such an end, I care little for who I stand alongside, as long as they share a common enemy.” She paused, a sharp gleam flashing in her eyes. “However...”

It was at this statement Azula’s expression twitched almost imperceptibly.

“...I cannot simply turn from my current allegiance.” She shook her head, slowly, as if to emphasize the difficulty of the decision. “While as I said I, personally, do not care for who I fight, those currently under my banner...likely do. For one in my delicate position, only having recently gained command as General, to so swiftly betray our current organization to join another…” She scowled. “It would seem fickle, and opportunistic. Loyalty would be in question. They would begin to quickly lose what little trust I have fostered, if indeed any followed my decision at all.”

“Then simply force them to comply,” Azula said shortly. “You are their leader, even if only for the moment. Make them follow you.”

“Were it so easy, Princess-Commander.” Altanis smirked again, her eyes narrowing slightly to something almost...reptilian with the way they shone. “Certainly, with the right coercion, I could force them to follow me. I could force them into submission, and compliance, and make them obey.” She lifted a hand. “There is a difference, however…”

She immediately clenched her raised hand into a fist. Immediately the ground around her splintered and cracked, several small bits of it rising up to fall into shaky lines and ranks, trembling and wobbling unsteadily in the air. “...between simple obedience forced with an iron fist…”

She relaxed her hand, letting her fingers spread out into an upturned palm. The upturned earth began to still and steady, the uneasy and uneven lines and ranks smoothing out into a tight, pristine formation that stood steady and strong. “...and loyalty earned with an outstretched hand and proper leadership.”

A dismissive flick of her hand sent her mock pebble-soldiers tumbling into the abyss between the General and Commander, where they tumbled and clattered down out of sight.

“One of these builds only resentment, and fosters anger. It may be slow to ferment, but good will cannot be forced. Sooner or later, they will grow sour enough to actively despise such a forced, violent leader. And they will not tolerate it.” She smiled, an insidious thing that bared just a hint of sharp teeth. “The latter, however...is a wonderful thing. It can make soldiers want to follow you. Want to anticipate your orders, and await them, carry them out with relish and vigor and enthusiasm. They will fight with you, rather than simply for you...and they will be all the more effective.”

Azula’s expression looked somewhere between complete disinterest and indifference, and her impatience was obvious. “A touching sentiment,” she sarcastically remarked. “I had thought someone like you would be more…fit for being a leader. I had heard stories of how cruel and vicious demons were. I’m disappointed.”

At this, Altanis laughed. She actually laughed. Not the cold, mirthless faux-laugh of someone simply playing along, or trying to get a rise out of someone...it was a genuine, hysterical cackle of pure, unfiltered amusement and delight.

“My dear princess…” she finally said, when she managed to regain her composure. “I never said anything about all of that drivel being my preferred option.” She leaned forward slightly.
“It is simply the necessity of the moment, and nothing more. I have not yet had time to instill a proper fear and respect into my soldiers. And under the current circumstances, I shall not have the time nor opportunity. In light of that, I am forced to rely on...other methods. Pretending to care about their well-being, allowing them ample rest and tending to their pitiful needs and requests to foster some sense of...camaraderie.”

She spat to one side. “Each and every one of them is little more than a pair of hands, to hold a weapon for me.” She lashed out one arm and seized hold of Malloki, yanking him off the ground to dangle out over the chasm before her. “Even this one—” She paused to shake the living voodoo, who just cackled and let out a whoop at the attention. “—is only still among my ranks because he is useful. A wild card. He can simply be thrown at a problem, and it will be resolved, one way or another.”

Azula’s eyebrows raised slightly, with some hint of amusement, as the centaur simply tossed the scraggly voodoo doll aside to tumble over the ground at her side.

“So to put it shortly, Princess-Commander Azula…” Altanis paused to take a deep, steadying breath. “...I am afraid I cannot commit to joining you fully. It would raise too many questions, and cause too many complications, at this particular juncture.”

Azula bristled and scowled, her relaxed demeanor evaporating like a spilled canteen in the desert. “Then this entire meeting was pointless. Why would you even bother with—”

Altanis held up a hand to silence the younger woman. Azula’s eyes snapped open wide at the indignity. “I said I cannot betray my current allegiance to join you directly,” she said shortly. “Not that I cannot agree to join you in...a more traditional alliance. We have a common goal, and even without being in the same army, we can come to an...agreement, no?”

Slowly, Azula calmed down somewhat, breathing heavily. “So that’s it, then,” she finally said. “Fine, then… I suppose that can still work, for now.” She ran a hand through her hair, straightening up and forcing her composure back in line.

“If you are still displeased, then I propose a simple trial.” Altanis smirked. “I am sure you have many….difficult tasks ahead of you, with your recent promotion. Allow me to tend to some of them for you, to lessen the burden. Send some of your own troops along to ensure my...compliance, and proper adherence to your wishes, if you like.”

Azula was quiet for a moment, briefly sharing a look with Stheno before offering only a faint smirk. “Very well, then… As it so happens, there is some business I need to tend to. In multiple cities and locations, in fact. I will send one of my Lieutenants with you, and you will see to the compliance of one of the villages in my territory. By any means necessary. He will have further instructions for you once you have completed that objective.”

“Hmm… I see.” Altanis nodded slowly, with her eyes closed, as if in deep thought. “So be it, then. I can agree to such a task.”

 

[Nico Cinder]

Honk.

Gamzee barely knew where he was. This was a recurring theme. He could not recall how so much blood came to be caked on his hands, his staff. This was also a recurring theme. The taste of it ran off somewhere, replaced by a mixture of fruity, sugary, and antiseptic flavors. In the shadows of the medic ward, the ragged, slouched silhouette of Gamzee Makara melds in and out of the light. He had a bug in his head, and it wasn't blunt force trauma. It was a nasty, nasty little thing that had stuck with him since the march up here. He was shufflin' along, minding his business, when he heard some mumbles and mutters shuffling along behind him.

"...Strazi...ockwe..."

A breeze of a name in the roar of the wind. A buzz like no other. Couldn't be matched by anything Gamzee had ever experienced before, not even gettin' his thinkpan all ground up by a big ol' motherfucking woof beast. No, this was something different. He wasn't sure he could let it go. His fingers brushed against his near-empty flask with a weakness he was unaccustomed to. Miracles don't come free, he supposed. Downward, he weaved in and out the courtyard of moonlight.

Nico Cinder and unsavory sorts like the killer clown he picked up on this war path have a very specific relationship. He hadn't seen savagery like what he saw on the temple battlefield in a long time, maybe not since meeting Pecan. It was no small wonder then, that when he came across a relatively conspicuous horned teenager hiding in the shadows and covered in clown make-up and blood, it gave him pause.

"Uhhh. Whatcha doin' there buuud?" Nico drawled, approaching as slowly as he dared.

The swish of the savage clown's hair let Nico know that he's being stared at from the darkness. There was also the glowy yellow eyes. The young punk was having trouble breaking eye contact, waiting for Gamzee to speak.

"Well brother, as it motherfucking stands, I'm gonna go into that room right there," he points, vaguely stage left, in the direction of their captive's quarters. A couple of weird lookin' dudes from Azula's detachment were standing guard with rifles, per Elise's strict protection orders. With something as valuable as Elise was making this out to be, his thoughts drifted. Nico wondered if there was a deal going on somewhere else in the fortress, but deals are for devils and there was one standing right in front of him.

"Well hell, Gamz," Nico started. "Not sure why in the shit you'd wanna do that."

"Me neither," the clown shrugged back with a mouth full of teeth and eyes full of eyes.

"Hmmmm." The saner of the two wasn't sure if the other was serious or not. 'Bout fifty-fifty shot, he reckoned. Lieutenant and former lieutenant looked at each other a little longer before they both turned their attention on the two guards.

"Ah what the fuck. Sounds fun, I can help you out. No killing though, you hear me? Got enough of that going around in this damn compound."

"Can't kill 'em," said the clown with a relatively serious nod.

"Nope," Nico said, noting his restraint. Gotta keep track of that. "But I have an idea. When you see your chance, take it." He readied the Red Chord. It was time to put on a show.

"Watch for any knives in the darks."

 

[Mirage]

Azula wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or disdained at the sight of a small company at her fortstep. She did enjoy the popularity she was getting, but with everything else going on, the annoyances were piling up. The soldiers stood ready to move below as her ally approached the structure and began his trek to see the true commander of the armada.

“It took you long enough. I have been expecting a report for days, so I hope you have a valid excuse. That is unless you want me to revoke your privilege to lead our troops.”

“Yeah, I uh, wanted to go ahead and talk to you in person, because, why not?” Mirage shrugged nervously, harsh authority always threw him off his groove.

The trickster continued on about the incident at the vault, and the proceeding events that led to him arriving here. Much of it had already reached her ears from other messengers and talk of Mustang’s failure, but hearing it from a primary source brought a smile to her lips.

“I suppose I am right to assume myself as leader of the Armada, as expected. Now, given how you handled the situation, I am so sorry to say that I cannot spare any more troops for your efforts. However, I do trust that you and your girlfriend downstairs can handle yourselves for a task I have for you. And don’t fail like our dear old Mustang, or I might have to deal with you myself. Now, off you go, I have enough wretches ruining the gorgeous view of my land and I don’t need more flies buzzing around the fortress.”

Mirage seemed taken aback by the crude bluntness of his new commander, though he did now have new orders. They were practically in line for what plans he had already, but at least he was no longer out on the field blind.

"I gotcha, Princess-Commander! You chose the right guy for the job, aha!" Finger guns shot the air as he turned to head back down to Wraith and their soldiers.

The sun hadn’t even set yet before they were on their way again. Perhaps they could right the wrongs that were done to them at the vault, but with it came its own risks.

 

[Wraith]

Mirage had gone into the fortress to meet with this Azula chick, leaving Wraith surrounded by her entourage. The woman hobbled over to a nearby medic who was addressing a soldier’s bandage.

“My leg is fucking killing me, soldier. Can’t you give me any more morphine?” She complained.

“Order’s ma’am. The battalion surgeon has already given you your dose.” He replied, applying a new bandage to soldier.

Wraith grumbled quietly before making her way to the front of her troops.

Eyes on you.

Watch out.

You’re being aimed at.

Wraith brought her attention to the redhead now standing in front of her. She was taller than Wraith and clad in leather armor banded with metal plates. Her red eyes moved about the woman in front of her and a grin spread across her features. Before Wraith could draw her Wingman, a single elven blade was at her throat, lifting into her skin.

“You’re not a spy, are you?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

Wraith scowled, lowering her hand away from her weapon.

“No.”

With a devilish smile Beatrix drew her other elven blade in one fluid motion and crossed them, placing them against Wraith’s throat.

“You’re lying.”

The troops around them had started to move closer to their commander, but knew that should they do anything, Wraith might die.

“Tell your company to stand down or you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” The woman’s red irises ignited vibrantly.

Wraith raised a hand and her men started to move back.

“Beatrix! Stop!” Jaina shouted, jogging over.

“Lower your blades. She’s allied with us. Orders from Azula directly. The guy she came with is on his way back down.” The blonde sorceress placed her hand on the redhead’s arm.

“Tch. I guess fire bitch cleared you.” Beatrix lowered both of her swords and sheathed the blades.

“Do I look like a spy? Really?” Wraith gestured to her injuries.

“A shitty one.” The redhead said before turning around to walk back towards the fortress.

Mirage arrived shortly after the duo had disappeared into the fortress.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” He asked.

“No.” Wraith answered, obviously flustered. Using her crutch she lifted herself to her feet.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Sabotage!​

They’d be there for a while, privy to all the teen warlord’s deepest, darkest machinations. Like any good secret agent, they had known when to be quiet and when to drip just enough breadcrumbs to keep the rats scurrying around.

When the Fortress started to empty out, the mild-mannered trope knew that this would be their finest hours.

***​

It started with a literal bang.

Beatrix III, recently given command by Azula, had rounded up another group of soldiers for ‘interrogations’ when something up on the ‘gun deck’ of Fortress Briggs exploded with enough force to cause chunks of the ceiling to break loose and the walls to shudder.

The blood mage scowled. “Scramble everyone!” She screamed as one of the eight soldiers she had pulled into the room suddenly lunged at her. The woman felt a flash of searing pain from her side as she was tackled down to the ground, but she wasted little time in getting her teeth around her attacker’s throat. Beatrix proceeded chew and rip until the fight left her foe, and although she couldn’t see through the thick blood lathered over her body, she shoved off the corpse and rose to her feet.

“I said… SCRAMBLE.”

***​

Nico Cinder and Gamzee Makara were within fifteen feet of where Strazio Rockwell was being detained when the violence broke out. They wasted little time rushing down the corridor, to where they immediately found themselves thrown into a violent little skirmish with a group of gray-skinned killers.

Gamzee, scooping up a stool used by a guard who had the fun duty of sitting in the hall overnight, used the weapon to bash apart the skull of the nearest non-human he could spot. He had little time to relish that before someone tossed a blinking piece of metal at him.

“Oh fuck,” the clown tossed the bomb away, but it still exploded within a few feet of his face, throwing him backwards and through the reinforced door to Strazio’s new ‘chambers.’

With a dull thud, Gamzee landed on the bottom half of Strazio’s bed.

A little groggy, the clown twisted his head and looked at the white-haired man.

“Gamzee?”

***​

Beatrix III bashed through the doors of Azula’s private quarters. Screams and gunfire still echoed through the fortress.

“You don’t belong here,” she rasped as she leashed a torrent of throwing knives at the back of the knave.

Despite executing an almost flawless twirl, one of the knives still nicked the spy—cutting through his suit jacket and some blood to sputter from the wound.

“Wow,” Karl UnJak remarked as he looked at bloodstained tear. “These are expensive, you know.” The man smiled, causing the flecks of red in his eyes to almost glitter in the poor lighting of the room.

“Enough talking,” Beatrix rasped as she drew her longsword. “More dying.” She took a step forward, and the floor beneath her literally collapsed, causing half her leg to disappear down through the concrete and stone masonry.

The voice pulled her focus away from her leg and back to the man, who stood on the window ledge, with the shine of the moonlight causing his shadow to cast across the entire room. “Remember this as the night you almost caught Karl UnJak!”

Beatrix lashed out with her wrist mounted crossbow, but the stupidly handsome spy had already thrown himself through the window before she could fire the mechanism.

100 Unmade Carnaval agents have been destroyed throughout Fortress Briggs.
75 Miniskirt Armada soldiers have been killed.

Beatrix III has suffered two Minor Injuries (stab wound + extensive scraping and cuts to one of her legs)
Gamzee Makara has suffered a Major Injury (dude had an explosive blow up very close to hisself)

Karl UnJak has suffered a Minor Injury (stabbed).

Fortress Briggs’ weaponry has been sabotaged and will require 36 hours to fix

 

[Nico Cinder]

Nico whistled, but the guards paid him no mind. Feeling a little ignored, he decided the best course of action was to be as obnoxious as possible. He walks directly up to the two of them. They remain in stiff position, on high alert.

"Hey, nerds. This is your uh, commanding officer speaking. I-"

"Oi. You hear something there, Tossy?" said the right guard.

"Not a thing, Sossly. All I heard wot from Princess Commander Azula was that we was to guard this post." said the left guard.

"Yeh, yeh that's in me recollection as whale."

"Why do you two talk like that?" the boy groaned.

No response. Tough crowd. Nico knew just what to do with those.

----

Strazio bolted upright with a flurry of heavy, frenzied breathing. Dreams, dreams, dreams. Pain hitched a ride onto the oxygen filtering into his lungs as the dreams faded into a fuzzy mist. The first sense to return to him was his hearing, an angry raincloud of folky, punky guitar noises noticeable from somewhere outside his little corner of the med ward. As he rubbed the coma out of his eyes and they adjusted to the lowlight, the mage saw shapes move around his door. There were a few shouts and the twangin' sound of some stringed instrument being smashed on something really dense. More shouting. Heavy, armored footfall came close behind.

"Fucking hell," he muttered to himself. Who knows what just happened out there? Not him, that's for sure. Wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. He went to move when someone told him not to.

"I wouldn't get up too fast there, brother," came a hoarse sound. "Touch fuzzy, get dizzy."

"God I'm sick of you assholes and your ominous cryptic bullshit." The mage of rage spits back, and promptly ignored the warning. He'd lost count of how many attempts have been made on his life. Took more than a woozy feeling and a shadow among shadows to tell Strazio Rockwell what to do.

"Bad dreams, brother?" Gamzee Makara mutters, stepping into the light. "Me too."

"The fuck you know about my dreams?" Or "How do you crazy fuckers keep getting in my room?" Are two of many things Strazio wanted to say. Instead, his mouth opened and closed without sound, struggling to find any worthwhile words to use. He looked the horned hooligan in his room up and down. He leaned heavily on his staff in such a way as to imply a swirliness to his demeanor. There was something...urgh. The more he thought about it, the more the mage's mind resisted, but something pulled against it all the same. A big ass motherfucking rock in the middle of a restless, violent river. No question Strazio had was worth asking out loud. The wounded man must've had a physical reaction to all these thoughts and feelings, because the clown in the room tilted his head, swallowed something from the flask at his hip. He goes to offer it to the man the wind told him about.

"Last sip's all yours, Strawso."

"It's Strazio. Rockwell. Get it right or get gone," he says, rather unevenly. "What's in there?"

"Miracles. Mirth. The motherfuckin' usual. Trust me, you want some. Sure as hell had enough of this mah-damn-self."

Before Strazio can even decide or process, there's some slightly more distressing ruckus outside. Gunshots, hollers and screeches.

"Get out here, Gamzee!"

Ah. Ah shit, that Nico kid sure as hell had some kinda timing.

"I imagine you're gonna wanna wait here for this one there, bud." The troll chuckles. There was an edge to the giggle though, something that stuck out to the mage. It was both familiar and foreign. He went to move in protest, but promptly was brought back to his ass on the bed. Clown wasn't lying. Get very dizzy.