The Urban Wizard had thus far experienced a rather calm experience on the island. He had set about his tasks, and his trench coat had barely gathered much dust amongst all the traveling and rabble-rousing with his fellows.
[NB] "Street Sweeper" Travel / Checkpoint Semiautomagic
- Thread starter Karl Jak
- Start date
- Status
Face to Face
Assassination Attempt!
Assassination Attempt!
The land was foreign, but then again, this whole little landmass was a great big unknown for the Urban Wizard and the assorted members of the Street Sweepers.
With the sun starting to dip below the horizon, the majority of the group was simply trying to set up their tents. Once the sun came, it was more likely than not that they’d find themselves once again marching to meet some great host of monsters and villainy.
The lieutenant of the unit, the Urban Wizard himself, stood watch outside of what should have been his tent. Instead, he’d left the assorted tarps and metal bits and pieces in a pile on the ground. Ever since they’d stopped in this little patch of land, he’d felt increasingly uneasy, and even with the glow from his staff to comfort him in the night, he felt little peace of mind.
In the distance, someone screamed.
A woman?
The Urban Wizard scowled. While there were plenty of women in their army, he was fairly certain that a bad dice roll had left him with a full pack of sausage for the long march.
“You hear that?” Someone asked in the darkness up ahead as a few soldiers started to head toward the sound.
At first, he couldn’t believe what was going on. “Wait,” the Urban Wizard muttered as he gave chase. “This is clearly a tr—”
Something crashed into the wizard, and both man and attacker went tumbling to the ground. A rasping scream was followed by jagged claws ripping through the rugged material and into the flesh underneath. Urban Wizard clenched his jaws as he grabbed his still-burning staff and thrust the business end into the side of the lithe, feral monster before it could go for his throat with its jagged teeth. The flames caught hold of its desiccated flesh and the rags it wore, but even then, if it hadn’t been for a gaggle of soldiers, it was possible the beast could have killed him with its final, desperation-fueled moments.
Instead, the nightmarish monster was thrown to the ground and hacked to pieces.
Had Ridley been on for jokes, it is quite possible he could have quipped that they hadn’t so much run away as they had ‘retreated… with style’, because the host of the Dragon’s Gaze found themselves quickly venting their rage on the first group of non-monsters they could get their teeth around.
“Street Sweeper”
Lieutenant-> Harry Dresden
100 Combat Soldiers
Checkpoint
50 Combat Soldiers
Vs
“Dragon’s Gaze”
General -> Ridley
Lieutenant -> Untotto
750 Combat Soldiers
***
Battle Statistics
Unmade Carnaval: 750 Combat Soldiers
Hell Divers: 150 Combat Soldiers, Checkpoint Advantage
Notes: A checkpoint built on its own it akin to a motte and bailey-esque field fortification. Nowhere near the complexity of a fort but a bit more defensible than a village with zero walls or barricades of any sort. Given the numerical disadvantage, the barriers will not be able to hold for too long. I will ‘resolve’ this combat scene within 36 hours AND/OR after 1-2 Carnaval posts (1 *has* to be from Weiss – the other one can be Weiss, Jade, or Spur).
Battle Statistics
Unmade Carnaval: 750 Combat Soldiers
Hell Divers: 150 Combat Soldiers, Checkpoint Advantage
Notes: A checkpoint built on its own it akin to a motte and bailey-esque field fortification. Nowhere near the complexity of a fort but a bit more defensible than a village with zero walls or barricades of any sort. Given the numerical disadvantage, the barriers will not be able to hold for too long. I will ‘resolve’ this combat scene within 36 hours AND/OR after 1-2 Carnaval posts (1 *has* to be from Weiss – the other one can be Weiss, Jade, or Spur).
“Street Sweeper”
Lieutenant-> Harry Dresden
100 Combat Soldiers
Checkpoint
50 Combat Soldiers
Vs
“Dragon’s Gaze”
General -> Ridley
Lieutenant -> Untotto
750 Combat Soldiers
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Ridley’s gaze turned onto the pathetic checkpoint, his thoughts already turning back to the fight for the Vault. Though it was turning against them and the din of combat had not turned to their favor, the Unmade General had been happy to fight in carnage of such scale, such devastation. It was a battle that left corpses strewn about the battlefield and unrelenting bloodshed.
In comparison, taking this pathetic Barricade was little more than an exercise in annoyance for the dragon.
Weak squeaking came from the creature attached to Ridley’s back. Somehow, the monkey still held onto the dragon’s personage, though it had long-since dropped it’s weapons elsewhere. Burns were scattered across its body from the battle with mustang, where the little creature could do naught but hang on for dear life, and one eye had seemed to turn milky and bled constantly.
Ridley strode forward with a graceful swagger, as he approached the cities defenses. So far, his artillery had yet to fire a shot, though all were trained on the base and were instructed to fire so long as they saw so much as a loose arrow.
Ridley crawled forward with a spiderlike horror as a grin came to his face.
The Soldiers readied themselves for battle, and orders were being yelled, a thousand insults and death threats hurled towards the Unmade general. Ridley turned to the little primate on his back, watched its remaining eye go blood red, its jaw set and ready.
A screaming, gargled and horrible and nasty, echoed through the air. The gurgling little creature had lost no volume or voice, and the sound simultaneously resembled a monkey’s howl, a child’s scream, and the shriek of a cat.
The unearthly noise continued, and the soldiers went to hold their ears as they waited. Was this some sort of attack?
The shrieking continued for a short moment more, before the Chimp finally ran out of breath. The garrison was stunned into silence, save for the panting monkey.
Ridley looked the creatures straight in the eyes for a second with one of his own, and this moments praise was all that was needed for the unmade primate to straighten its pose and take a smug, grinning position.
Now that the chaff had been silenced, Ridley spoke his terms.
“Join us. Become unmade. We will eat those who resist alive and screaming.” The general snapped through ragged teeth. “Those are our terms. You have two minutes to comply.”
In comparison, taking this pathetic Barricade was little more than an exercise in annoyance for the dragon.
Weak squeaking came from the creature attached to Ridley’s back. Somehow, the monkey still held onto the dragon’s personage, though it had long-since dropped it’s weapons elsewhere. Burns were scattered across its body from the battle with mustang, where the little creature could do naught but hang on for dear life, and one eye had seemed to turn milky and bled constantly.
Ridley strode forward with a graceful swagger, as he approached the cities defenses. So far, his artillery had yet to fire a shot, though all were trained on the base and were instructed to fire so long as they saw so much as a loose arrow.
Ridley crawled forward with a spiderlike horror as a grin came to his face.
The Soldiers readied themselves for battle, and orders were being yelled, a thousand insults and death threats hurled towards the Unmade general. Ridley turned to the little primate on his back, watched its remaining eye go blood red, its jaw set and ready.
A screaming, gargled and horrible and nasty, echoed through the air. The gurgling little creature had lost no volume or voice, and the sound simultaneously resembled a monkey’s howl, a child’s scream, and the shriek of a cat.
The unearthly noise continued, and the soldiers went to hold their ears as they waited. Was this some sort of attack?
The shrieking continued for a short moment more, before the Chimp finally ran out of breath. The garrison was stunned into silence, save for the panting monkey.
Ridley looked the creatures straight in the eyes for a second with one of his own, and this moments praise was all that was needed for the unmade primate to straighten its pose and take a smug, grinning position.
Now that the chaff had been silenced, Ridley spoke his terms.
“Join us. Become unmade. We will eat those who resist alive and screaming.” The general snapped through ragged teeth. “Those are our terms. You have two minutes to comply.”
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Ridley did not choose the timer without careful planning. Every single one of those seconds were time given to instill terror and panic. These men weren’t going to be surprised by a lightning strike attack in an active warzone, nor would Ridley try to simply catch them off-balance.
Instead, the key was to set them off-balance. Give them enough time to contemplate, but not enough to make peace.
It had the added effect of bringing out the enthusiasm, the eagerness of his troops. Even the Unmade could be worn down and brought out of their reverie over time, and retreating from fresh meat was not their way, but this? This made the toothy, writhing abominations salivate. Like a dog staring at food, every single creature slowly transformed as the seconds ticked by into a ravenous, hungering horde. What seemed like a reprieve to the defenders was simply a way for Ridley to whip his troops into a frenzy.
When the two minutes were up, Ridley gave no signal, had to make no speeches, nor even a roar. The Helldivers seemed to be committed to staying within their hovel, but it mattered not to the old Lizard. As acid and fire rained down on their fortifications, The dragon rushed forwards amidst a tide of grinning monsters.
They struck fast and hard, finding every breach, every foothold, every nick and cranny to break open to crawl inside to the good men behind their protective shell the artillery pelted further within the walls as his men swarmed through and into the outer defenses. Whatever wasn’t finding its way into a hole was making a new one, or simply crawling up the primitive walls and barricades with their unique appendages. Hooked barbs and distended claws sunk into the weakened walls and let the shambling abominations scramble up with a fury, not noticing their comrades as they died, or even caring. The Pirate general grinned as he saw his force cover the Checkpoints defenses like a swarm of ants crawling across a slug.
The slugs fired back, of course, and Ridley was quick to find the strongest sources of such, spewing plasma on any fortified position or would-be sniper that his artillery had managed to miss, and he strode forward with purpose as he allowed his troops to slaughter and pillage. It was nostalgic, certainly.
The nostalgia was interrupted as he saw a yawning blast of flame cook some of his more insectoid forces in their shells, falling down in a pyrotechnic display of burning Clown makeup.
Another of the wizards he’d seen so much of. Ridley waved Untotto to come with him - he’d have rather finished this newest reality-warping miscreant off himself, but there was no time for that. They had to move as the master wished, after all.
Instead, the key was to set them off-balance. Give them enough time to contemplate, but not enough to make peace.
It had the added effect of bringing out the enthusiasm, the eagerness of his troops. Even the Unmade could be worn down and brought out of their reverie over time, and retreating from fresh meat was not their way, but this? This made the toothy, writhing abominations salivate. Like a dog staring at food, every single creature slowly transformed as the seconds ticked by into a ravenous, hungering horde. What seemed like a reprieve to the defenders was simply a way for Ridley to whip his troops into a frenzy.
When the two minutes were up, Ridley gave no signal, had to make no speeches, nor even a roar. The Helldivers seemed to be committed to staying within their hovel, but it mattered not to the old Lizard. As acid and fire rained down on their fortifications, The dragon rushed forwards amidst a tide of grinning monsters.
They struck fast and hard, finding every breach, every foothold, every nick and cranny to break open to crawl inside to the good men behind their protective shell the artillery pelted further within the walls as his men swarmed through and into the outer defenses. Whatever wasn’t finding its way into a hole was making a new one, or simply crawling up the primitive walls and barricades with their unique appendages. Hooked barbs and distended claws sunk into the weakened walls and let the shambling abominations scramble up with a fury, not noticing their comrades as they died, or even caring. The Pirate general grinned as he saw his force cover the Checkpoints defenses like a swarm of ants crawling across a slug.
The slugs fired back, of course, and Ridley was quick to find the strongest sources of such, spewing plasma on any fortified position or would-be sniper that his artillery had managed to miss, and he strode forward with purpose as he allowed his troops to slaughter and pillage. It was nostalgic, certainly.
The nostalgia was interrupted as he saw a yawning blast of flame cook some of his more insectoid forces in their shells, falling down in a pyrotechnic display of burning Clown makeup.
Another of the wizards he’d seen so much of. Ridley waved Untotto to come with him - he’d have rather finished this newest reality-warping miscreant off himself, but there was no time for that. They had to move as the master wished, after all.
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This entire situation was, in a manner of speaking, pretty damn bad.
Two minutes seemed like they went by in the blink of an eye, and I barely had time to get two thoughts together. This wasn't the first run-in we'd had with this bunch of Stephen King rejects, but this was the first one that was in such big numbers. I'm not saying I was nervous, exactly, but....
Hell. I was fuckin terrified.
But, see, sometimes that was a good thing. Fear could make you do a lot of crazy, not very smart things sometimes, but it had one big shining good side: it always triggered that fight or flight response. That little primitive part of you that tossed a coin to decide whether you run away and go find new pants, or grab the nearest big stick and start speaking softly.
And this time? Well...
I already had my big stick ready.
When the mob of freaks and assorted monsters started turning my newest favorite checkpoint into a Wal-Mart parking lot on Black Friday, I was not a happy wizard.
"Just couldn't even let me finish planning a spell, could you..." The words came out in a heavy sigh that was, in all honesty, way more shaky and faltering than you'd imagine. I was still a few big steps away from 'knee-shaking coward', but I wasn't exactly at my best. Go figure, almost two weeks of pretending to be a soldier took a toll on you.
Still, I had plenty of adrenaline to work with now. 'Fight Response' was my middle name. Okay, actually, it isn't. Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. I would say 'conjure by it at your own risk', but...there has to be something left to be conjured. And I have a feeling like I might not be around for much longer. At least not in one piece.
As the monsters surged forward, I couldn't really do much directly against so many. Except just to lurch forward, tightening my knuckles around my staff, and steeling myself for what was about to come next. Acid and fire and explosions rained down over my little slice of hell on earth, and it was being quickly overrun by enough slavering, ugly monsters to make a dozen Hollywood B-Horror movies. A raised staff and a projected dome of mostly transparent energy warded off the raining death and hell, as I bowled through some of the lesser schlock in my way.
We were outnumbered five to one, here, but most of them weren't much to worry about. There were only two that stood out as major threats. The big, angry Metroid-wannabe, and the mutant offspring of a Keebler elf and Cthulhu.
Ugh. Don't think about that image too hard.
My free hand fumbled in my duster pockets, taking hold of the familiar weight and heft of my blasting rod, and without missing a beat I whipped it out. One quick shout of "Fuego!" and a roaring sheet of flame blasted out, turning the ground in front of me into a smoldering, ash-covered stretch of nothing littered with a few twitching, charbroiled insect-freaks.
Venteferro," I whispered under my breath. And all around, the weapons which had been dropped and scattered in the charge started to lightly shake and rattle on the ground. The bits of metal in our hastily put together construction, and all the shredded bits and chunks of armor all rolled over and shifted about, subtly coming to all point in one direction. Just about impossible to notice in all this chaos, but...that was kind of the idea. What they didn't know about could hurt them a whole lot.
I didn't even break stride, continuing my charge at something between a steady march that would have been intimidating if I wasn't sweating bullets and an ungainly jog. Two against one...one obviously a giant terror with enough nightmare-spawning potential to terrorize an entire school's worth of kids, and the other with enough...something or other. I don't even know.
It's hard to be witty when you're diving into life or death fights, alright?
"Hey, so, as far as ultimatums go?" I spoke up, willing my voice not to shake with everything I had in me. "Six outta ten. Solid delivery, but the follow through of a saturday morning cartoon bad guy."
"It wasn't meant to be sincere, you oaf," the unmade general snarled, with a mocking sneer. "It was meant...as a distraction."
"A distraction, huh? That's pretty smart. Kinda wasted by just strolling on in here with a head-on attack, though." I just shrugged, and slowly lumbered to a stop, panting as I swung my staff out to point at the dragon...bird...monstrosity...thing. "So, what are the chances here of us just...sitting down for a nice chat, and settling this like civilized people, man to giant terrifying dragon-man?"
The response that came wasn't from the big nightmare-thing. It was from the small nightmare thing, in the form of a laugh that immediately drove a white-hot knife of pure agony twisting and spiking directly deep into my brain.
Oh, yeah, and the actual blast of magic accompanied by some pedestrian half-brained wording. Just calling out the name of the element? Seriously? How did they manage any control over magic like that?
"Infriga!" Without even a wave of my staff to direct it, an icy chill crept out from my body. The air before me plummeted in temperature, and a thick sheet of ice formed out of nothing, quickly bringing up an entire wall. It was nearly immediately demolished by the incoming spell — lightning bolts, seriously? Why something so unnecessary? — but it bought me the extra two seconds I needed. Time to pull out a spell that I'm sure would be a hit at parties, if it wasn't frowned upon to use magic for something as frivolous as 'entertainment'.
"Noctus Ex Illuminus!"
I sprinted out from behind the crumbling ice wall in two separate directions. One of them was actually me, the other was just a quick and dirty illusion. It wouldn't hold up to any kind of serious scrutiny, but in chaos like this? It didn't have to. It just had to buy me another few seconds to get out of the way.
"Venteferro!" This time, I wasn't quiet about it. Both me and my illusionary doppelganger thrust our staff forward, toward the beasty and the smaller beast. All those little metal bits from before immediately shot forward. Like something between Paul Bunyan's own personal shotgun and some kind of nightmarish directed shrapnel bomb, it pelted dragon and pint-size wizard both, and plenty of other monstrosities behind them. The screeching and cursing were an intermingled mess that only made my headache worse, but damn did it feel good to do some damage.
At least, it did until the dragon whirled around and stared daggers right at me. "Oh. Crap."
The illusion failed right when all my focus went to the nailgun trick. This always happens.
A noise somewhere between a roar of indignant fury and the shrieking of an angry bird emitted from the giant ghastly general, as flames spewed forth from his jaws and he lunged forward right at me. He lunged forward fast. Too fast.
"Riflettum!" was all I had time to manage, and the shield that weakly sputtered to life was barely enough to blunt the impending charge. It shattered like glass, and I felt almost all the air exit my lungs right about the time I felt my everything get bathed in a torrent of scalding fire and disgusting dragon breath.
I screamed, of course. I think everyone would.
But I did something that I'm pretty sure not everyone would, either. Having magically enchanted clothes that are fireproof helps, but they were never tested against dragon flame. Still, just a second...just long enough to gasp out a few syllables...!
"Ass...an...ti...." I sputtered and coughed, thrown backward by a lashing tail as it tore through my duster, and only missed running me through entirely by virtue of sheer dumb luck. The entirely too warm feeling running down my pants afterward told me it hadn't missed entirely, though.
I toppled over into a messy tumble, rolling backwards and sideways onto my hands and knees. Covered in soot and ash, and coughing up what little air I could still suck down, it looked like it was all over for me. And let's face it...it probably was.
Guess that makes me a cornered mouse.
"...ass...an...ti...us!" With the last baston of defiant strength I had, I practically threw my staff at the gruesome twosome, and the wood splintered and cracked as all the sigils on it flared to life. Pure kinetic force exploded out, rushing forward in a ground-churning wave.
I could see big bird's eyes go wide right before he got hit with a wave of pure momentum the size of a minivan, and was sent flying into the rest of the ruckus.
Two minutes seemed like they went by in the blink of an eye, and I barely had time to get two thoughts together. This wasn't the first run-in we'd had with this bunch of Stephen King rejects, but this was the first one that was in such big numbers. I'm not saying I was nervous, exactly, but....
Hell. I was fuckin terrified.
But, see, sometimes that was a good thing. Fear could make you do a lot of crazy, not very smart things sometimes, but it had one big shining good side: it always triggered that fight or flight response. That little primitive part of you that tossed a coin to decide whether you run away and go find new pants, or grab the nearest big stick and start speaking softly.
And this time? Well...
I already had my big stick ready.
When the mob of freaks and assorted monsters started turning my newest favorite checkpoint into a Wal-Mart parking lot on Black Friday, I was not a happy wizard.
"Just couldn't even let me finish planning a spell, could you..." The words came out in a heavy sigh that was, in all honesty, way more shaky and faltering than you'd imagine. I was still a few big steps away from 'knee-shaking coward', but I wasn't exactly at my best. Go figure, almost two weeks of pretending to be a soldier took a toll on you.
Still, I had plenty of adrenaline to work with now. 'Fight Response' was my middle name. Okay, actually, it isn't. Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. I would say 'conjure by it at your own risk', but...there has to be something left to be conjured. And I have a feeling like I might not be around for much longer. At least not in one piece.
As the monsters surged forward, I couldn't really do much directly against so many. Except just to lurch forward, tightening my knuckles around my staff, and steeling myself for what was about to come next. Acid and fire and explosions rained down over my little slice of hell on earth, and it was being quickly overrun by enough slavering, ugly monsters to make a dozen Hollywood B-Horror movies. A raised staff and a projected dome of mostly transparent energy warded off the raining death and hell, as I bowled through some of the lesser schlock in my way.
We were outnumbered five to one, here, but most of them weren't much to worry about. There were only two that stood out as major threats. The big, angry Metroid-wannabe, and the mutant offspring of a Keebler elf and Cthulhu.
Ugh. Don't think about that image too hard.
My free hand fumbled in my duster pockets, taking hold of the familiar weight and heft of my blasting rod, and without missing a beat I whipped it out. One quick shout of "Fuego!" and a roaring sheet of flame blasted out, turning the ground in front of me into a smoldering, ash-covered stretch of nothing littered with a few twitching, charbroiled insect-freaks.
Venteferro," I whispered under my breath. And all around, the weapons which had been dropped and scattered in the charge started to lightly shake and rattle on the ground. The bits of metal in our hastily put together construction, and all the shredded bits and chunks of armor all rolled over and shifted about, subtly coming to all point in one direction. Just about impossible to notice in all this chaos, but...that was kind of the idea. What they didn't know about could hurt them a whole lot.
I didn't even break stride, continuing my charge at something between a steady march that would have been intimidating if I wasn't sweating bullets and an ungainly jog. Two against one...one obviously a giant terror with enough nightmare-spawning potential to terrorize an entire school's worth of kids, and the other with enough...something or other. I don't even know.
It's hard to be witty when you're diving into life or death fights, alright?
"Hey, so, as far as ultimatums go?" I spoke up, willing my voice not to shake with everything I had in me. "Six outta ten. Solid delivery, but the follow through of a saturday morning cartoon bad guy."
"It wasn't meant to be sincere, you oaf," the unmade general snarled, with a mocking sneer. "It was meant...as a distraction."
"A distraction, huh? That's pretty smart. Kinda wasted by just strolling on in here with a head-on attack, though." I just shrugged, and slowly lumbered to a stop, panting as I swung my staff out to point at the dragon...bird...monstrosity...thing. "So, what are the chances here of us just...sitting down for a nice chat, and settling this like civilized people, man to giant terrifying dragon-man?"
The response that came wasn't from the big nightmare-thing. It was from the small nightmare thing, in the form of a laugh that immediately drove a white-hot knife of pure agony twisting and spiking directly deep into my brain.
Oh, yeah, and the actual blast of magic accompanied by some pedestrian half-brained wording. Just calling out the name of the element? Seriously? How did they manage any control over magic like that?
"Infriga!" Without even a wave of my staff to direct it, an icy chill crept out from my body. The air before me plummeted in temperature, and a thick sheet of ice formed out of nothing, quickly bringing up an entire wall. It was nearly immediately demolished by the incoming spell — lightning bolts, seriously? Why something so unnecessary? — but it bought me the extra two seconds I needed. Time to pull out a spell that I'm sure would be a hit at parties, if it wasn't frowned upon to use magic for something as frivolous as 'entertainment'.
"Noctus Ex Illuminus!"
I sprinted out from behind the crumbling ice wall in two separate directions. One of them was actually me, the other was just a quick and dirty illusion. It wouldn't hold up to any kind of serious scrutiny, but in chaos like this? It didn't have to. It just had to buy me another few seconds to get out of the way.
"Venteferro!" This time, I wasn't quiet about it. Both me and my illusionary doppelganger thrust our staff forward, toward the beasty and the smaller beast. All those little metal bits from before immediately shot forward. Like something between Paul Bunyan's own personal shotgun and some kind of nightmarish directed shrapnel bomb, it pelted dragon and pint-size wizard both, and plenty of other monstrosities behind them. The screeching and cursing were an intermingled mess that only made my headache worse, but damn did it feel good to do some damage.
At least, it did until the dragon whirled around and stared daggers right at me. "Oh. Crap."
The illusion failed right when all my focus went to the nailgun trick. This always happens.
A noise somewhere between a roar of indignant fury and the shrieking of an angry bird emitted from the giant ghastly general, as flames spewed forth from his jaws and he lunged forward right at me. He lunged forward fast. Too fast.
"Riflettum!" was all I had time to manage, and the shield that weakly sputtered to life was barely enough to blunt the impending charge. It shattered like glass, and I felt almost all the air exit my lungs right about the time I felt my everything get bathed in a torrent of scalding fire and disgusting dragon breath.
I screamed, of course. I think everyone would.
But I did something that I'm pretty sure not everyone would, either. Having magically enchanted clothes that are fireproof helps, but they were never tested against dragon flame. Still, just a second...just long enough to gasp out a few syllables...!
"Ass...an...ti...." I sputtered and coughed, thrown backward by a lashing tail as it tore through my duster, and only missed running me through entirely by virtue of sheer dumb luck. The entirely too warm feeling running down my pants afterward told me it hadn't missed entirely, though.
I toppled over into a messy tumble, rolling backwards and sideways onto my hands and knees. Covered in soot and ash, and coughing up what little air I could still suck down, it looked like it was all over for me. And let's face it...it probably was.
Guess that makes me a cornered mouse.
"...ass...an...ti...us!" With the last baston of defiant strength I had, I practically threw my staff at the gruesome twosome, and the wood splintered and cracked as all the sigils on it flared to life. Pure kinetic force exploded out, rushing forward in a ground-churning wave.
I could see big bird's eyes go wide right before he got hit with a wave of pure momentum the size of a minivan, and was sent flying into the rest of the ruckus.
No one would ever fault the Urban Wizard for not trying, in the face of the wave of bloodied, enraged Carnaval soldiers.
Soldiers dying all around him, the wizard launched and endless, dazzling array of magical spells against the dragon and its host of monstrosities. In the end, there was no way to fudge the math to let the stalwart, unyielding wizard escape this scenario with anything resembling a victory.
Even so, he fell back into the center of the checkpoint and never stopped fighting until he was physically overwhelmed and bludgeoned into submission.
Casualty Report
Unmade Carnaval:
“Dragon’s Gaze” has lost 70 Combat Soldiers.
Hell Divers:
“Street Sweepers” have lost 120 Combat Soldiers.
30 Soldiers have been taken alive.
Lieutenant Urban Wizard has been taken alive.
Soldiers dying all around him, the wizard launched and endless, dazzling array of magical spells against the dragon and its host of monstrosities. In the end, there was no way to fudge the math to let the stalwart, unyielding wizard escape this scenario with anything resembling a victory.
Even so, he fell back into the center of the checkpoint and never stopped fighting until he was physically overwhelmed and bludgeoned into submission.
***
Battle Update
The Unmade Carnaval has taken the square and destroyed/pacified all resistance.
Battle Update
The Unmade Carnaval has taken the square and destroyed/pacified all resistance.
Casualty Report
Unmade Carnaval:
“Dragon’s Gaze” has lost 70 Combat Soldiers.
Hell Divers:
“Street Sweepers” have lost 120 Combat Soldiers.
30 Soldiers have been taken alive.
Lieutenant Urban Wizard has been taken alive.
“Didn’t I murder everyone here already?” Ridley remarked as the great unmade host arrived at the outskirts of Checkpoint Semiautomagic.
“Yes,” the Urban Lich whispered as the duster-clad corpse sneered at the encampment. “You did.”
“Well fuck … let’s do it again!” A nearby soldier quipped, which brought a smile to all the various monsters’ visages.
Checkpoint Semiautomagic
Defenders: 50 garrisoned soldiers
Vs
“The Apex Predators”
Generals -> Ridley, Snake Lady
Lieutenants -> Untotto, Graw, Urban Lich
1665 Combat Soldiers
“Yes,” the Urban Lich whispered as the duster-clad corpse sneered at the encampment. “You did.”
“Well fuck … let’s do it again!” A nearby soldier quipped, which brought a smile to all the various monsters’ visages.
***
Battle Statistics
Unmade Carnaval: 1665 Combat Soldiers
Hell Divers: 50 Combat Soldiers, Checkpoint Advantage
Ridley, you have one post and about 10 hours to do so before I resolve this ‘battle’.
Battle Statistics
Unmade Carnaval: 1665 Combat Soldiers
Hell Divers: 50 Combat Soldiers, Checkpoint Advantage
Ridley, you have one post and about 10 hours to do so before I resolve this ‘battle’.
Checkpoint Semiautomagic
Defenders: 50 garrisoned soldiers
Vs
“The Apex Predators”
Generals -> Ridley, Snake Lady
Lieutenants -> Untotto, Graw, Urban Lich
1665 Combat Soldiers
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The host was sated as bags of meat trailed behind them, their rot and decay beginning to fill the air. The smell would’ve bothered a conventional army, but the Unmade found it intoxicating. Ridley, of course, could’ve taken it or left it, but it gave them some particularly unique missiles for this next battle. Not that it was all that they’d taken from Tulum.
Some of the more ill-equipped of the unmade had dropped their over-worn weapons in need of repair, and started looting helldiver weaponry. The advanced guns and weapons were now, grotesquely rusted and covered in fluids and tumorous flesh. Blades and blasters that were once fired by Tulum’s defenders were now in service of destroying those pledged to save them. The unmade used all, and not even death could save someone from serving lord Darkseid in some way, shape or form.
Ridley refocused on the battle ahead of him, the fort that stood ready for the Carnival’s first blow. He’d give them the death they so clearly craved.
“Lich, do you have your spells ready?”
“Sure, sure.” The undead wizard would reply with a cocky look.
Ridley gave a glare that belied his lack of confidence in the answer, and the Lich gave a cocky shrug.
“Listen, you’re just gonna trust me. We both know ya can’t tell a magic circle from a crop circle.”
Snake Lady gave an amused grin. “Cute, but leave it there. Our fearless general Ridley is only willing to tolerate so much, and he gets angry when he’s hungry.”
Ridley was going to kill both of them at some point in his life, he was certain, but he turned his attention to the rebuilt checkpoint instead. This time, quarter was not to be given.
“Fire!”
The Urban Lich stood with several eldritch casters, waiting, as an array of corpses from the village of Tulum were fired directly into the city. Arcane symbols of orange, combined with black ink, formed under the assembled group, and the catapult-fired cadavers began to softly pulsate and glow.
This particular spell, as the Dragon had understood such physics-defying nonsense, was based on some of the principles of one of the few things in Terran biology that had actually fascinated and entertained Ridley.
Spontaneous human combustion.
Ridley waited until he could hear the soft explosions behind the walls, could smell the fire and blood and piss that accompanied being covered in flames and shredded entrails, and ordered his troops to move forward under cover of chaos.
Some of the more ill-equipped of the unmade had dropped their over-worn weapons in need of repair, and started looting helldiver weaponry. The advanced guns and weapons were now, grotesquely rusted and covered in fluids and tumorous flesh. Blades and blasters that were once fired by Tulum’s defenders were now in service of destroying those pledged to save them. The unmade used all, and not even death could save someone from serving lord Darkseid in some way, shape or form.
Ridley refocused on the battle ahead of him, the fort that stood ready for the Carnival’s first blow. He’d give them the death they so clearly craved.
“Lich, do you have your spells ready?”
“Sure, sure.” The undead wizard would reply with a cocky look.
Ridley gave a glare that belied his lack of confidence in the answer, and the Lich gave a cocky shrug.
“Listen, you’re just gonna trust me. We both know ya can’t tell a magic circle from a crop circle.”
Snake Lady gave an amused grin. “Cute, but leave it there. Our fearless general Ridley is only willing to tolerate so much, and he gets angry when he’s hungry.”
Ridley was going to kill both of them at some point in his life, he was certain, but he turned his attention to the rebuilt checkpoint instead. This time, quarter was not to be given.
“Fire!”
The Urban Lich stood with several eldritch casters, waiting, as an array of corpses from the village of Tulum were fired directly into the city. Arcane symbols of orange, combined with black ink, formed under the assembled group, and the catapult-fired cadavers began to softly pulsate and glow.
This particular spell, as the Dragon had understood such physics-defying nonsense, was based on some of the principles of one of the few things in Terran biology that had actually fascinated and entertained Ridley.
Spontaneous human combustion.
Ridley waited until he could hear the soft explosions behind the walls, could smell the fire and blood and piss that accompanied being covered in flames and shredded entrails, and ordered his troops to move forward under cover of chaos.
Face to Face
Checkpoint Semiautomagic vs "The Apex Predators"
Checkpoint Semiautomagic vs "The Apex Predators"
"Kevin!" Karl leaned back in his hair. "KEVIN!"
The Operations Lead dashed into the room, looked around for any signs of ingress into the bunker or indication of something amiss with the technology. "What's the matter, Bossman?"
Karl rewound the footage on the main view screen. Kevin tilted his head as he watched, in full 4k UHD, as a Mirage got his jaw torn out by a half-crocodile, half-writhing black tentacles and goo monster. The executive producer chuckled as a second swipe disemboweled the facsimile of the holographic trickster. The poor sap, based on his (remaining) facial muscles, still seemed like he was trying to crack a smile as he crumpled into a heap and had his organs pool out beside him.
"You get a hoot out of this... don't you, Sir?"
Kevin's boss rolled his eyes as he switched the footage back to Ridley's troops slaughtered another group of outnumbered saps.
"Listen, this is all I got. All the saltiest little contestants were lost in ye olde grand scramble. Plus," Karl scowled as he leaned in his seat to get closer to Kevin. "You ever die, Kevin?"
The former intern nodded his head. "Yes, Sir, once, you were there, if I recall the footage."
"Two times!" Karl corrected before shrugged his shoulders. "When you actually feel yourself die, Kevin, you come and let me know. Until you do, you'll humor me if I like to watch this sorry sap get murdered. You get the next batch of those ready for the Pit?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Make sure you film it with the good cameras."
"Of course, Mr. Jak."
Face to Face
Withering Fire!
Withering Fire!
The checkpoint had flipped hands more than a few times.
Its current residents were sneering, snarling monsters.
Despite their ferocity, the unmade are not immune to massive mortar shells exploding a few yards away from them.
The cowboy mercenary groaned. "Why did I get stuck with this place? I don't want to be in the place where the soldiers go to die!"
Nevertheless, Arthur Morgan adjusted his spandex, his ass-less chaps, and relaxed onto the wooden rocking horse to gather his thoughts and think back to his farm.
"Good farm." He whispered as he reached for his journal and some crayons.
Nevertheless, Arthur Morgan adjusted his spandex, his ass-less chaps, and relaxed onto the wooden rocking horse to gather his thoughts and think back to his farm.
"Good farm." He whispered as he reached for his journal and some crayons.
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