[HD] Fortress Gehenna (Dmg'd)

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Karl Jak

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A sprawling, wall-enclosed complex that looks more like a haunted school building than a military fortress, Gehenna has an aura of foreboding and calculus around it.
 

Karl Jak

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Face to Face
Sabotage!

Altanis signaled the spies up on along the gun emplacements, and they sprung to life.

It wasn’t much, but it was honest work (?).

Despite the scaling the walls and getting into place, the operation quickly started to unravel, as the fortress’ garrison sprung to life all around them. Small arms fire started to rain across the fortifications.

“Set off the charges!” Altanis screamed as she was suddenly encircled by a handful of unmade ghouls. “The. Charges!”

No sooner had that final, barking order left her mouth than the night sky was illuminated with a puff of flame as



The Hell Divers have lost 29 spies.
The Unmade Carnaval have lost about 50 soldiers.

The guns at the Fortress have been disabled for 24 hours.
 

Karl Jak

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Siege Battle!

Doomguy and the remainder of the Hell Divers saw the signal and pressed onward, their helmets snug and their eyes dead ahead as a more distant fortification peppered their ranks with a spattering of mortar fire before they reach their destination.

***

Battle Statistics

Unmade Carnaval: 500 Combat Soldiers, Fortress Advantage
Hell Divers: 666 Combat Soldiers

Notes: Fortress Gehenna is, once you’re passed the walls and guns, a giant, spooky-ass school campus.

Rules for posting for this scene are as follows: I expect at least one post from each Hell Diver within a 3-day time span. Whoever posts first will be fighting outside the walls/along them (I’d prefer this be Altanis, since she can write the ‘conclusion’ to her operation, but I won’t be picky). Once that first post is ‘live’, the next person to write can have the Hell Divers capture the gate, gaining entry into the complex and allowing them to push the fight into the building proper, where the “school headmistress” awaits them. Naturally, I’ll need at least one rp by Spur within this three-day time span as well.

(Edit - tweak to numbers because I had to double-check my morning PMs)​

Fortress Gehenna
Defenders = 500 Garrisoned Soldiers + Rita Repulsa

Vs

“The Hell Divers”
Generals -> Doomguy, Altanis
Soldiers -> Musashi, Caboose
666 Combat Soldiers
 
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Altanis

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With the garrison of the fortress already coming alive and taking action, Altanis knew that any chance they had for a surprise attack was utterly lost. They wouldn't have had much of a chance regardless, once that 'signal' went up and the guns were disabled, but they hadn't even had time to tend to that before the enemies were aware and upon them.

She knew, though, that the rest of the Hell Divers would already be on their way. Regardless of personal opinions or feelings, they weren't going to be so foolish as to ignore a chance to close in on this fortress while the guns were disabled. Even without having personally experienced it as many times as she had...their power should have been abundantly and violently clear.

So Altanis steeled herself, and turned her focus to the ghouls who had surrounded her. One of her eyes was covered with the tattered, bloodsoaked eyepatch of her fallen 'ally', the other glimmering an angry gold as she peered around at them, not even bothering to gesture for showmanship any longer as blades and crushing waves of psyhic force erupted from nowhere around her. The unmade forces were all swatted and batted aside or out of the air as swiftly as they moved to attack. It was a minimal offense maneuver, doing virtually no real damage or injury to her foes...but it also kept them from doing much of anything to her, without greater numbers.

Far more worrying than the enemies surrounding her, however, were the defenses of the fort itself. While their main guns might have been temporarily disabled, that did little for the more...short-ranged defensive implements. The ones guarding the walls and gates themselves. Regardless of her efforts, she couldn't hope to hold out against them for long, even had she been at full strength.

But she didn't need to.

Among the fighting higher up, near to the main gun emplacements, there was a flurry of activity. The troops assigned to her in this operation all came quickly storming down, in some combination of simple climbing or other wing or rocket-powered gliding descent.

"Secondary charges set, General!" a voice rang out hoarsely. It was the second in command of the sabotage group who had scaled the walls. Extremely pale and sporting several new holes in his armor, but otherwise still intact.

"The Sergeant was lost in the unexpected counter attack?"

"Unfortunately, ma'am! Had his head taken off by a thrown cleaver!"

"Unfortunate indeed," the centaur hisses. "But so be it! You know what our next step is, soldier!"

"Affirmative!" the soldier barked in response, and with a swift gesture to the others, they proceeded to scatter, as did the general herself, vacating the stage before it was completely drowned in the swiftly-mounting defenders of the fortress.

As they all went, grenades were produced, along with grenade launchers. A swift hail of explosive death and distraction was let loose — there were as many bursts of smoke and blinding light among the onslaught as there were of shrapnel and fire — and almost simultaneously the remainder of the secondary charges were set off. Not with any intent of structural damage or severely weakening the fortress itself, this time.

Just for simple distraction.

Enough to cause minor damage, disrupt the close-ranged defenses and draw eyes away from the real danger while it advanced upon them for that critical extra moment.

"How long until the rest of us get here?!" a voice hoarsely demanded from close by.

"Longer than we want, sooner than the enemy wants!"

"Alright, smartass, we don't need—"

"Silence!" Altanis barked. "If you have enough energy to whine and bitch, then put it to more constructive use!"

"Ma'am!" the instant turn of attitude under the weight of her direct attention and orders would have been amusing, in a situation less filled with the looming specter of imminent, messy death.
 

Karl Jak

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Battle Updates

The Hell Divers can force entry into the Fortress.

A little over 100 unmade soldiers will arrive shortly to attack the besieging Hell Diver force.​
 

Miyamoto Musashi

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Pink hair flew in the wind, framing a pair of reddened eyes, as the ronin stood upon the front of their ranks once more. Clad lightning scorched armour, the various lightning attacks from alien and man alike, had left her nervous system in a permanent state of twitchiness and sudden paralysis, but she adjusted. She had to.

On her hips rested her trusty pair of swords, and across her back was tied a new acquisition. A katana of pure white and gold, a weapon and a memento both.

“Zenits-,” she glanced aside, hand already reaching to reassure a shoulder that wasn’t there as she grew quiet and shook her head. All that remained was the sword upon her back. They lay in wait for a signal.

And so, her trembling hands set upon the handles of her blades.

Crimson flame lighted the skies.

The signal they had awaited.

“Rip and tear, until it is done!” echoed across their ranks, yet the sheer battle weariness had begun to wear upon them. Many beloved comrades lost, they boiled for tired, war-worn vengeance.

And so, like many times before, the legion began to roll forth.

-----

The haunted building before them looked not quite like anything that the swordsman had seen before. Not that she particularly cared for architecture.

Her swords drew at the first sight of the monstrosities, lacking the usual finesse of her strikes as she simply hacked her way through whomever dared stand before her. Knowing that she couldn’t quite rely on the precision of her strikes anymore, she’d had to rely on simple, brute force.

Not her specialty, by any means. But effective enough, in short bursts.

Before them, stood the gates to the eerie fortress, denying entry from any who dared approach. But of course, by know any fort would’ve quaked in their boots from seeing the legion of bloodthirsty, vengeance fueled helldivers before their gates.

They’d conquered more menacing places than this in the past. And they’d paid the price in the lives of those they stood here to avenge. And so, a squadron of soldiers, each shouldering rocket-launchers marched forth, protected by a lone swordsman and a legion of gunmen, each felling their worth of frilled clowns, hemp-dressed aliens and other fuckery, before falling prey to one themselves.

Yet their goal was simple enough. Blow that gate to hell.
And with it? Secure their entry to the fort and blow the undead right to the same hell with the gate.

“Fire!” she commanded, her voice rising above the cacophony of guns and sickles alike, as the troop of four took their stances, each dropping to a knee as their launchers took aim.

SWOOSH!

In a series of flashing lights, sixteen rockets soared forth, four from each launcher as they hungered for the steel of those gates.

“Hihahahaha!” A few of the projectiles were stolen from the air by suicidal maniacs as they dove forth, attempting to grasp the ballistics only to explode right with them. They’d learned to expect this kind of suicidalness from the fucked monstrosities of the Unmade.

And so they’d prepared.

BOOM!

The missiles found their target, exploding into the metallic gates that blew right from their hinges, crushing any unfortunate enough to have stood behind them. The passage to hell was open, and so?

They would enter.

“Forward!” she bellowed, as the legion began to roll forth once more, any in their way felled and any fallen of their own left behind as they mercilessly sought to overwhelm any and all in their way.

They’d had enough.

They would nip this in the bud, cutting and gunning down any and all who tried to stand in their way.

Revenge would be theirs.

As would at this rate the building, in which their enemy laid in wait. Hungry for their blood and fresh corpses to replenish their ranks with, much like the Helldivers hungered for vengeance.
 

Josuke Higashikata

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They break into the darkened and spooky school that remains unsettling to witness its presence. There is one thing the basic training trained hell Divers for combat, and that is fear nothing. Only picture your fears that stand in your way face to face, awaiting to be rip and tear that dares to defile your existence. No matter how creepy this school or fortress attempts to bring down anyone's bright aura, the Hell Divers are ready to dismantle this evil that needs abolishing. The Doomguy's squads move inside the school's entrance alongside Musashi and Atlantis.

The scene greeted the intruders with the themes of abandonment, spider webs, and vandalism made by the unmade stationed here. A few enemy clowns loitered in the entrance, noticing the Hell Divers broke through into their home. They threatened their unwelcomed guest, but the marines took them down swiftly, not being outnumbered for now. Doomguy and his army began to march down the school hallways on full alert for any hostiles to eliminate. Eerily enough, it remains silent, avoid of any enemies while they invaded the unmade dark fortress.

"It's too quiet. Marines stay alert." Doomguy commands his brothers and sisters not to underestimate the situation.

Musashi stays on guard with her swords drawn in ready in her hands, looking around in the dark environment with little lighting. Doors to classrooms on both sides of the hall remain shut, and the windows were foggy. Atlanis arms her laser trident, igniting it in both hands in preparation for any surprise attacks. Suddenly, the stillness breaks when crackling and screeching rings out throughout the campus coming from the intercom system.

"Attention, this is your school's headmistress speaking. I want to welcome our new international students to the fine and well-education system that this island offers. Now then, with the welcoming committee out of the way, class is dismissed!"

The vile and hair-raising voice speaks loudly over the old intercom system that rings across the school grounds. It hangs up abruptly right before all the classrooms' doors swing open quickly, revealing the various wicked clowns that are ready to leave their classes. The Hell Divers gather with their backs pressed against each other, seeing the clowns pour out into the hall they stand in, becoming claustrophobic quickly.

"Marines, rip and tear!" Doomguy angrily yells before making first blood in this grand hallway close-combat battle.

"RIP AND TEAR"

They all cry out after their courageous leader leads them to infiltrate and destroy another fortress belonging to their most mortal enemies on this island. While they fight, the Doom Slayer believed that Caboose was following behind him this whole time since their bond has grown throughout the conquest. Blasting his shotgun and pumping it after killing a clown that had no match against him, he realizes he needs a grenade ready to be thrown to a group of unmade horrific clown creatures approaching him.

"Caboose! Hand me a grenade!" He yells out loudly against the gunfire, screams, and fighting surrounding him along with the Hell Divers. "Caboose?"

Doomguy now realizes that his blue spartan ally was not behind him and can't see where he stands in this chaotic battle. "Goddammit! Where the hell is Caboose?"

The demon-famed killer and hell's most feared marine switches his shotgun out for his Gatling gun, spinning the barrels before they rain out a forecast of bullets to his victims.

*********

"Depression"

"Sad"

"Friendless"

"Slightly congested"

Caboose's voice speaks out while walking into a dirty bathroom stall to go in peace. After he finishes, he flushes the toilet and leaves the booth open. The restroom he stands in was silent, with no one using it besides the sad, lonely blue spartan, still mourning for his pink friend. A single light bulb that lights the bathroom faintly stays powered. He can hear the gunfire and action going on outside in the halls of this school, but he is too unhappy to care if they achieve victory or not.

The blue and green armored spartan stands in front of a sink with a cracked mirror on the wall, appearing that someone punched it from before.

"Aw Buu, I wanted to do so many fun activities and games before I even realized it was time to say goodbye." Caboose calls out, looking at the many reflected selves of him staring directly back toward him upon the mirror's shiny surface. "I don't know what to do now with him gone. What do you think I should do now, me?"

"You should pick up your attitude and smile more while you have the chance." The figment of his imagination kicks in, showing the more prominent reflection of himself talking directly back at him in the mirror.

"But why? My greatest friend on this island is no longer with me." Caboose speaks back to his reflection, still filled with sadness.

"But don't you remember? You can make many more in your lifetime! It's what makes life worth living for." The reflection talks back to the real Caboose, giving him encouraging advice.

He sniffs his sad little nose underneath the blue and green Mark V helmet.

"Yeah, I guess your right. Then again, I will get sad when I lose another friend."

"Listen to the big guy upstairs. When other friends surround you, they cheer you up and listen to your feelings to make you feel all better. Just like what principal Doomguy did back at the beach!" Another reflection of himself speaks only from this time, a smaller version of himself at the mirror's bottom.

"That is true. Principal Doomguy did try to make me feel better after sharing his chocolate. Not only that, but he did listen to my feelings when it came time for sadness. At least he didn't lie to me about Buu."

"See, that's the spirit! You've come so far in this life. There are still friends surrounding you like principal Doomguy, Musashi, Atlantis, and many more! C'mon now, one of your friends is a magical pony! Wasn't that one of your wishes to make friends with on the friendship wish list?" The more small reflection talks about the allies that are still with him currently right now. All the other reflections in the mirror agreed to the smallest one's advice given to the real Caboose.

"That's fair too. Also, Atlantis doesn't like to be called a pony. Sorry."

"Aw." All the reflections say that one word in disappointment to not call Atlanis by any horse resembling things.

"But, Thanks guys, I need the emotional support right now." Caboose cheers up significantly, looking at the many reflections of himself.

"Now, your friends need help, and they can't fight without you!" His more significant reflection speaks out, worrying over the many comrades currently attempting to take the fortress.

"Your right! They need me right now! Well, goodbye all of me. I'll see you another time when I need cheering up." Caboose announces his departure, hurriedly leaving the bathroom.

No longer in the restroom, his reflections remain on the cracked mirror.

"Great job team, we made the real me proud." The significant Caboose reflection speaks to the clones present in the mirror.

"What are you talking about? You mean our, me" A smaller reflection talks back to the significant reflection, correcting him.

"Right… Ok, who wants to play twister?"

All the reflections excitedly agree on the silly game, speaking rapidly altogether.

"IdoIdoIdoIdoIdoIdoIdoIdo!!!!!!!!!!!"

*********

A massive punch to a clown's face is landed by Doomguy, making his enemy fall to the ground. Finishing the unmade creature, the Doom Slayer stomps his boot in a brutal movement that smashed the head in killing his claimed kill. He focuses on more clowns rushing to surround him and his marines. Some reloaded, and others were well-armed, ready to assert more hostiles to their kill count. The Hell Diver green commander looks back at the soldiers that stand by him. He switches to his shotgun to conserve ammo for his Gatling gun, pumping it with a malicious look in his visor, staring heavily back at the unmade clowns.

On the opposite end of the hallway where the Hell Divers faced, they hear someone stomping boots into the ground, charging to their position. They suspected it to be a big berserk clown to come in and finish the job to crush the group, but instead, Doomguy sees clowns getting pushed over or trampled. When the figure gets closer, it reveals to be Caboose joining in with his Hell Divers family. He jumps into the green crowd, blending in with his army, grasping and aiming the assault rifle tightly in his hands to the hostiles.

"About damn time you showed up!" Doomguy looks back at the blue spartan who joined his side, standing bravely.

"Sorry, I had to use the bathroom before fighting. I didn't want to upset you when I had to go in the middle of one." Caboose explains his disappearance to his commander, hoping he could forgive him. "Doomguy, thanks for cheering me up earlier. I'm thankful for the Well Drivers becoming my friends."

His commander appreciates Caboose thanking him for their little talk earlier but now wasn't the time to talk about feelings. They got a war to win.
 

Miyamoto Musashi

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Soon enough after the announcement, the hallway had split into two, forcing the Helldivers to split their forces if they desired to purge the entirety of this demon infested building. As usual, the swordsman split onto her own, with some of the forces following in her wake.

Who the hell built hallways this cramped anyway?!

The particular hallway the ronin had chosen left her at an annoying disadvantage, too narrow to truly swing her swords from the sides, leaving her with only three options.

From above, from below, or from the front.

And lack of options? It meant predictable.

Stepping over yet another corpse, the swordsman watched as yet more classrooms swung open and clowns clad in backpacks ‘n creepy, frill-trimmed school uniforms flooded their path again.

“W-we can’t win!” shrieked a voice from beside Musashi, “There’s too many of them!” the voice uncharacteristically full of terror, something that the swordsman wasn’t used to hearing within her ranks.

“Push forward!” she commanded, stepping aside as the Helldivers pushed forth past her, the narrow lines allowing for effective use of their guns, as any who stepped into the hallway. Trembling beside her, disobeying that direct command was the terror-filled disgrace.

One of her swords sheathed as she grabbed the screamer by the neck-joint of their breastplate, pushing them against the wall. “Too many of them?!” she demanded, eyes burning with rage as she leaned the entirety of her weight against them, lifting them into the air.

“Do you think Zen-... The Lieutenant worried about the enemy numbers in his final moments?!” she howled, blood escaping from her knuckles as they paled amidst her rage. “He died saving us!”, the wood paneling behind the marine creaking as the ronin pushed harder.

“I...u..I uh...uh...auh,” stammering, the private was at a loss for words, trembling like a leaf in an autumn storm as they sought for words that weren’t there. Searching for a response that wouldn’t get them decapitated by whom, or what was supposed to be their venerable leader in this horror-filled hole.

BANG!

Splinters exploded from the floor as a bullet tore into the wood, fired by a terror-clenched trigger.

Sighing, Musashi glanced to her side at the still smoking muzzle of the gun. Slowly, her grip loosened as she set the other down.

The tightly wound ronin relaxed along with the explosion of gunpowder, as she set a hand upon the other’s shoulder, “What’s your name, private?”

“U...ah… It’s...uh,” at a loss for words, the private trembled yet. For a moment, Musashi couldn’t help but see the Lieutenant in them, back when he’d still trembled like a leaf at the slightest threat of enemies. “I-it’s Liliyana. Lilyana Jones!” she finally responded, offering a weak attempt at a salute.

“You’re with me then, Lilyana. I’ll show you that they will bleed when they’re cut. They will die when they’re shot,” she noted, dragging the girl forward with the hand set upon her shoulder, “And that we’ll win, regardless of their numbers.”

-----

With their leader and a coward left behind, the Remnants of the Storm fought forward.

“Changin’ mags!” echoed across the halfway as private James Gungho released the magazine from his chaingun, the metal box falling toward the ground before his steel-toed boot came to kick the discarded box with all the force of a rampaging rhino.

Bong~!

The mag rang as it crashed and embedded itself into the forehead of a school-clown, sending them crashing into the floor, joining their dead friends.

“Heeello there~!” cackled a clown as a door beside private Gungho swung open, holding a book high above its head, “Could you help me with my math homework?” the demon asked, head canting to one side as its grin widened.

“The fuck?”

“See, if I have two Helldivers!” the demon began to explain their freshly-assigned homework enthusiastically, as if this was a perfectly normal school day here! “And I split them in half, how many Helldivers do I have?”

“Have this!” boomed private Gungho, brains off and gun reloaded as he smashed the clown’s face in with the butt of his rifle, a nasty crack sounding from its skull before it tumbled into the ground.

“Wrong answer!” cackled the fallen demon, before pulling the book open. A snap of a thin wire drowned beneath the cacophony of battle, even as the book sizzled for mere moments, its hollowed pages displaying an explosive proudly.

“The answer is one! Hahihihahahahihihahaaa!” the self-exploding demon corrected, just as the fuse finished its burn and ignited the explosive within.

BOOM!

Caught by the ensuing inferno, private Gungho’s charred corpse fell within the classroom, before the door closed behind him, as if he’d never been there in the first place.

Class was now in session for one private James Gungho.
 

Jason Lee Scott

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Cursed to wait. Cursed to toil. Cursed to fight.

To kill? That wasn’t so bad.

Rita limped to the large door leading from her chambers . With each step her right leg was unable to place itself flat on the ground, still distorted from the years of death and rot before. Yet a dark energy appeared with every attempt to place it on the ground, much like the aura surrounding the rest of her body. She was still so broken, but now not the least bit incapacitated. Darkseid’s power supported her where her own body failed: a constant reminder of her pledge to a greater power.

The double sided doors burst open before her to reveal a massive courtyard, filled with Unmade clowns displaying poor impressions of students. Some held books and absently stared at each other, as if they were supposed to be talking but didn’t receive the message. Others sat on benches, staring at open books and never turning the pages while even more still walked mindlessly to and from the buildings surrounding the open area. There were even a few on a makeshift volleyball court, knocking a ball back and forth with machine-like efficiency. On the other side of the expanse she could hear the sounds of battle in the first building of the campus. They were here. They would make it through. Good.

Rita through her head back and cackled manically, all while pounding her staff to the ground. Her troops immediately forgot what they were doing and turned to face her at once. One was struck in the head by the errant volleyball.

“We have company, you miserable goons!” Rita screamed as she raised her staff. “Can't you nitwits play the part!?”

At once the skin began to shed from her mindless army. Her inner forces were revealed to be made of a heavy clay, incapable of speaking in any more than distorted, garbled noises. Her army of Unmade Putty Patrollers began jumping about in anticipation of the approaching challengers. They suddenly showed a lot more life and excitement than any of the Unmade had before, but they were still blindly loyal to a single cause, just like their headmistress.

The doors ripped open, and the opposing army tore from the hallway. The putties rushed their foes, trying no to give them any breathing room, yet the Hell Divers were quick to establish a foothold once they gathered more space. Rita fired a lightning bolt into the crowd, caring little for who it struck as she was more concerned with the immediate failure of her troops.

“Imbeciles!” Rita shouted over the sounds of battle. “For once in your miserable, resurrected lives do something useful and stop them!”

Shortly after she’d given her orders, she noticed putties flying in every direction as one being charged straight for her. She quickly realized she had been identified as the leader of this operation, and she was about to be confronted by none other than the leader of these miscreants, only known to her as Doomguy. A clash between the heads of each side of the battlefield was poetic, and made sense. A good leader never shrinked from a real challenge, but that wasn’t something Rita pretended to be.

Rita sent a ball of green fire into Doomguy’s chest, sending the space marine reeling away. She stepped forward to prepare another attack that could give her enough time to make an escape, but hesitated at the sound of galloping. She turned to see a putty had been telekinetically flung at her, at attack she barely dodged by ducking under the screaming minion. She had just enough time to turn back to her original opponent, only to be peppered by buckshot from Doomguy’s shotgun. Rita screamed in pain and fled behind several putties, using them as cover.

As she tactically retreated, she cast a lightning bolt at the centaur that threatened to close in. It slowed her foe enough, and devoid of other options she grabbed a rusted bicycle from a nearby rack. She fired another bolt of lightning, this time with no real target, just at the battlefield in general. Feeling she’d bought herself enough time she climbed onboard the failing contraption, and began to make her escape across the yard at an entire mile per hour.

“In your FACE, Hell Divers!” Rita shrieked as she peddled through the melee, casting balls of flame in energy direction.

The Hell Divers’ SPARTAN soldier was quick to grab his own bicycle to give chase, yet all he was able to do was kick the peddle right off. Instead he hurled the bike into the crowd, striking Rita in the back of the head and sending her to the ground. With the soldiers of both sides fighting ruthlessly, she was temporarily lost in the crowd.

It was all the time she needed for a sneak attack.
 

Miyamoto Musashi

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The Remnants of the Storm bursted out onto the chaos-engulfed courtyard from a side entrance, arriving to witness a battle that had already descended into full chaos. Clearly the other route had brought the main force through sooner. But of course, from a morale perspective, a fresh batch of reinforcements had just arrived on the scene!

Well, if you could call anyone on the goddamn island fresh anymore.

“Gun them down!” the ronin announced without remorse as she dragged forth the unwilling private she’d decided to concentrate her attention upon - Lila? Lily? Lilyana. Something like that. Her muscles trembling with bloodlust, the swordsman found it uncharacteristically hard to care.

And so, she threw the woman forward heavy handedly, following in her wake as her sword brutishly cut through one of the nearest gray humanoids, cleaving it in half through the Z-engraved breastplate.

As the grayscale comical relief fell aside, it revealed several more from behind it as the jerky their movements were jerky, janky and strangely coordinated. For whatever reason, one threw a backflip in place?

“Hrgh,” the ronin grunted in frustration, leaving her private behind as her swords cleaved through one after another of the enemies that she viewed in contempt. A waste of her time, in comparison to the damn dragon.

Couldn’t they just step aside?! Couldn’t they see that she had more important matters to attend to? Mightier enemies to cut down!

Left behind, private Lilyana Jones fired into the gray mass of enemies, half her bullets clattering into the building behind them as the recoil kicked her gun skyhigh. Clicking empty, she watched the approaching horde as the never-receding panic reared its ugly head, and the girl began threw fumbled with the magazine release, her trembling hands failing to release

“S-stay back!” she warned, her voice trembling before casting the entirety of her gun, much akin to a kitchen sink, at her opponents. It was just that the gun lacked the mass of a kitchen sink with it. And so, it bounced off of a trifecta of chestplates without leaving a dent.

“G-get away from me!” howled the poor private Jones as a pair of putties took hold of her arms, even as she squirmed and struggled, her kicking legs caught by the third. And so, the putties began to carry the captured private away, abandoned by her comrades and Lieutenant alike.

Just how had someone this incompetent come this far anyway?

-----

The swordsman’s arm came to a halt midswing as she heard the distantly familiar screams over the cacophony. Surrounded by a never ending mass of punching bags, the swordsman knew she’d fucked up.

Had she not been supposed to prove to the girl that these horrors could be cut down?
Had she not been supposed to display leadership and competence alike?

And what, in a matter of five minutes, she’d successfully not only abandoned her protegee, but gotten herself surrounded and that self same protegee captured?

She’d really gone and done it now. Her head was many things, but it was slowly dawning upon the ronin, that it wasn’t in the game.

Closing her eyes, Shinmen Musashi breathed deep, her swords sheathing as her hands settled. One upon the sheath of her sword and one upon the handle. She assumed the Iaijutsu stance that Zenitsu had always used, and awaited for her opportunity to come.

“Gigigigigigi!” the strange noises of the putties were certainly unnerving...but in some senses comical as well, in comparison to the horrors they’d faced before. So when the circle began to unanimously close upon the Shinmen Musashi, her sword shot forth, leaving from the confines of its sheath and cleaving through the approaching horde in one swift cut.

Dashing forward through the ranks, her eyes darted from side to side, peering for any signs of her protegee. All the while praying in her mind, that her screw up wouldn’t end up costing the private her life.

“...eeelp!”

Over the clatter of battle, the cries for help rang, steering the swordsman’s determined step as she dove below, leapt above and pushed through whomever tried to come between her and Lilyana. For someone she’d so easily forgotten before, Musashi cared painfully much about the other’s fate. If only to escape from her own mistakes.

BANG!

Khh-CHK-CHK!

BANG!


The telltale sound of the commander’s shotgun rang over the battlefield, as the ronin arrived onto the scene, a trio of putties devastated, and moments-before carried Helldiver on the ground.

Musashi stared at the scene; having arrived late. They stood right at the edge of the courtyard, next to the entrance to one of the buildings. If not for Doomguy’s timely arrival and the well placed shells of his shotgun, private Jones would’ve definitely been a goner.

“Keep watch over your troops, soldier,” the marine chastised momentarily before disappearing to the fray once more, to deliver them from this hell.

Snapping from her stun the swordsman rushed forward, sliding onto her knees beside the dropped private, grasping them by the arm.

“Are you hurt?!” Musashi demanded, her eyes darting as she sought for any obvious injuries and helped the other onto a more seated position.

“Yeah. N-no thanks to you though… You abandoned me!” shrieked the traumatized private, even as the swordsman lifted Liliyana onto her feet.

Musashi’s face twisted as the remark landed far too close to home. She had no witty remark nor clever quip to misdirect.

It was the truth.

“I’ll do better,” she remarked. There was nothing more she could say. Nothing she could say that would ascertain that she would. She’d simply have to prove it. And that harsh reality? It stung.

“Now, your sidearm, private. We still have demons to slay!” the ronin remarked, as the reunited pair turned to return to the battle once more. “I promised I’ll show you that they bleed and fall just like us, and I will!”

And so, the pair returned to the battle on the sidelines.
 

Remilia Scarlet

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“Hell Divers! To the Fortress!” I roared as the signal broke the calm sly “To the Castle!” I pointed my shotgun towards the hellish headquarters in the distance, our eventual goal. “Rip and Tear, until it is done!”

-The Mob Rules-

We charged through the front gate like a wave of lava, the fire in our eyes enough to burn a hole into the meager front defenses that protected the twisted school. Gunfire leveled down at our heads from the walls and towers, but storming the enemy base had become a natural feature of the men of the Hell Divers as breath, and I could see the enemy’s aim distracted as the massive frame of Altanis took heads as she ravaged through them with her trident. The front grounds “welcomed” us, the first wave of power armored warriors smash into a light group of undead clowns armed with javelins, shot puts and discus chackling with fel energies tossed down into the furious tide of warriors. Magical explosions rocked the squads attempting to break through, but the enemy were quickly gunned down.

It seemed there was a very light defense along the outside, the many windows along the wall of the school blackened and closed shut. A wasted chance to take fire on us, but I knew that the Unmade were more inclined to attack from hidden crevices. To sow chaos and fear in their enemies, driving men mad and in terror, wound and main then drag them screaming to make them their own. I wasn’t surprised when they came swarming down the halls once the announcement came over the PA system, but it was no less of a fight for it.

My chaingun whirl as I unleashed a constant stream of lead into the enemy screeching from around every corner, the labyrinthian halls inviting every monster and twisted soldier to try their luck with my arsenal. The lockers lining the wall explode outward with deadly explosives and spikes, while others are stuffed with nerdy undead in glasses and dress uniforms to strangle the men and grope the women.

“Oh yeah! This is what I joined for!” One soldier in green fatigues as he let off rapid shotgun blasts beside, a big brute smiling like this was some dream came true, until the door to the chemistry class was thrown open and a barrage of beakers and vials was flung into the offending soldier. A viscous, acidic glob formed and rapidly expanded across his body, his screams of pain muffled into air bubbles as he dissolved under the transparent goo, his suffering finished by a gout of fire from an orc with a flamethrower.

The boom of my shotgun drowned out the chaos for a moment, blood splattering across my armor. The neon green showed though, the soldiers rallied around me with each monster I tore limb from limb in my grasp. My arms were heavy as I broke demon after demon, their bodies bullet ridden and snapped in two, but the rage took it all. I looked to the other behind them, marking on their armor venerating their struggle. Yellow lightning painted across the helm of those who once fought under the flag of the Coming Storm. Pink circles on those who saw the fall of those who selfishly sacrificed themselves, throwing their own bodies into the fray. White fur lined the armor for some, their hatred for the unmade embraced with relentless attacks. Soldiers with scarves tied around their neck favored shaking their foes with sharp knives. Orange plasma weapons cleared anything in their path, fighting in a fury to see their commander in battle once again. While those who fought with me behind me from the beginning marked slashes on their stomach armor, some even removed the plate all together in solidarity. But there was one thing that united us: Rip and Tear.

The commander of the fort proved to be more tactical than the space dragon, feinting back once I had put a buckshot into her. It was actually comical to see her attempt to flee with a five gear bike and watch Caboose attempt to chase her down the same, enough to make me pause before a sniper round nearly took my head off. The battle raged around the courtyard, the bleachers around the football field the main source of cover. There was something nostalgic about throwing angry football players off of me, but the clay-like creature threw themselves at us with little regard for their existence.

Fine by me. I was happy to turn them to chunks with each shot.

Not for long, however, as the sudden appearance of a giant among the unmade, the enemy commander on it’s shoulder with a wild cackling laugh.

“Weren’t expecting this, were you, Hell Losers? Take this one on for size!” She shouted as a giant food smashed down into our defensive position.

You’d think I’d be used to this shit by now, but it honestly gets me every time.
 

Altanis

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Altanis struck out again, utterly skewering and nearly completely bisecting another unmade soldier with her trident, with a grim scowl on her face. This entire affair had quickly devolved into a grim, close-quarter mess the moment the rest of the Hell Divers had breached the gates and stormed in. It was, she supposed, what they 'did'. They dove right into things, turning any location that became a battlefield into a gory little slice of hell itself.

Not that this twisted mockery of a school needed any such help to become hellish. Dark and foreboding, grungy and worn down. From looking at it, the entire place seemed liable to fall apart entirely with just one errant blast in the wrong place. The fact it was still standing, and still standing strong against the onslaught that had just been thrown against it, was a miracle.

At the end of the day, though...it was little more than a twisted hive for these unmade pests to come crawling out of, though. It just needed the proper torch to set it all up in flames and it would be handled swiftly.

The Hell Divers seemed quite content to be exactly that torch.

Rampaging through and across the grounds of the structure, into its halls and the yards beyond it they went. Mercilessly gunning down or tearing apart anything that even resembled a clown that rose up to tread in their way. Though they were battered and wearied, the ranks of the Hell Divers proved they were far from broken. If anything, their zeal seemed to have only intensified, the remaining soldiers and troops fighting ever harder and more viciously as if to make up for their depleting numbers. With the mounting losses, one might have expected them to begin faltering or lose hope...

But there was the ever-present looming shadow and awe-inspiring presence of their commander. Doomguy. Flynn Taggart. The Doom Slayer. Though he was only human, and had grown weary right alongside the men and women fighting with him, he remained strong and burning with wicked, seemingly unquenchable conviction. The source of such a fervent refusal to give up or be so much as stalled was unknown to her, but it was...admirable. His placement as Commander was quickly becoming clear; he didn't lead by any imposing intelligence or wit, nor through grand strategic insight and careful planning.

He led from the front. By example. Direct, bloody, violent example. Short-term tactics and unrelenting violence only acquired through hard-fought and won battle. Though he might have looked like he was 'only human'...there was something altogether else about hm. Something that, or reasons the demonic horse-woman couldn't explain, just felt...off. It sent an unnatural chill coursing through her to her very bones. It made her feel uncharacteristically small, and vulnerable whenever his eyes fell directly on her. The way she supposed a normal, mortal person might feel if suddenly dropped into a room with a tiger.

She did not like it. She did not like being frightened, and it nearly drove her to violence every time. Just something in the back of her mind screaming, unendingly and incessantly, DANGER, DANGER regarding him. It bothered her and shook her to her core, and especially because she couldn't figure out why! She was older than entire societies, had millennia of skill and knowledge and power to draw from. She could have conquered entire worlds by herself. She was better than this, had earned her lofty position, rank and attitude...her right to lord over everyone else, and make others afraid of her.

Why did this human instill such an unnatural reaction? The same kind of gut reaction that young, small children had to 'the dark'.

She ground her teeth, her shoulders hunching and hands tightening into fists. "This...can wait..." she whispered to herself. She would have answers to this. But later...when the violence was done. She cast a fleeting glance to the green, blood-spattered form of their Commander, before scowling and looking away, throwing herself back into the battle.

Her sudden spike of self-loathing and the inability to act on her need to understand this unexplained reaction left her rising to an all-new height of violence. Broad, sweeping strikes and blows of her three-pronged spear left gleaming trails of crimson light on the air even as blood and all manner of less pleasant fluids spewed and gushed from the resulting enemy casualties. Crushing waves of psionic force ripple out around her, striking like colossal fists and grasping enemies to utterly pulverize them, wringing them out like some nightmarish juicer to leave only puddles and crushed meat behind. As she turned away to resume her violence, something stopped her dead. Her reflection in a window. It was grimy and muddied, hard to see, but all the same it stared back at her...

Her face and torso were bathed in blood; her own, that of her allies, that of her enemies. Her teeth were bared, as if ready to snap and tear out the throat of anyone how even looked at her wrong. Her eyes....only one of them shone clearly, through the mist and fog shrouding the school. Gleaming bright gold, ever-present and visible through the haze and flashes of gunfire and plasma weaponry. A tattered, ragged eyepatch adorned the other. The only thing she had been able to find among the remains of the one soldier in this entire mess she had actually regarded as more than simply 'useful'.

She had been nothing but a barely-restrained bundle of anger and suicidal vengeance. Ready to not even ask 'how high?' if told to jump, if it meant she would get a chance to take her anger out on these clown-painted vermin. She would have driven a knife into her own allies if it meant she could have gotten to the fighting a day sooner. She wasn't just here to fight the others on this island, she was here willingly, to absolutely slaughter only one group.

That single-minded determination...Altanis had liked the woman. Had schemes and plans for how to use her, train up that bloodlust and overbearing vengeance into something more than an unruly cleaver.

But that last battle had decided it wouldn't be so. That last battle had seen Altanis robbed of the only individual here she had considered more than just 'useful', more than just a 'tool'. One of the few whose names she had committed to memory for more than just necessity; not merely by rank and position...but her full name. Out of courtesy and respect, for someone who had as much of a drive and hatred for these fools as she did. Something about that devil-may-care attitude and reckless disregard for anything that wasn't going to get her exactly what she wanted...had made her stand out, and seem important, for some reason. She had been bitter and spiteful, and only seemed to tolerate Altanis's leadership, but...

In her visible eye, narrowed to a leering slit...for a moment, there was something like a faint trace of a tear welling up. Then she snarled, and whipped her head about to blindside a cackling, knife-wielding gremlin with her remaining horn and threw him into a wall with such force he splattered like a watermelon.

Perhaps, some voice within her head whispered. You viewed her so favorably because she reminded you of someone else.

She seethed, her teeth clenching so hard there was a light crack from her jaw. "Preposterous," she hissed, mostly to herself. "There is only one who I have ever cared about, and no one could compare to her."

But you wish someone could.

She howled in mindless grief and self-hatred as she lashed out again. A tremendous wave of thundering psychic energy tore apart the entire wall that held the offending window, bringing an entire section of the outer wall crumbling down and burying everything nearby in a cascading torrent of rubble.
 

Karl Jak

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Cooped up for as long as they had been, the menagerie of unmade monstrosities within Fortress Gehenna fought to the last as the green army sawed and shotgunned their way through the corridors of the school building.

After engaging in some earlier skirmishes on the floors below, Rita had withdrawn to the Headmistress’ Office on the top floor of the building. An undead, she still found herself grimacing as she had dragged her beleaguered, ungrateful meat seat back up to her last bastion.

They would be here soon.

She would be ready.

***

Battle Updates

Fortress Gehenna has nearly fallen, having been utterly ransacked in the process by both the invading army and its own defenders.

Spur has the opportunity to post one more time, and once he does, the Hell Divers can elect *one* PC to do one more post (or they can also 'pass' and request resolution -- either way, it's Doomguy's call).

Injury reports will come with the final resolution.

Tentative Casualty Reports (these are estimates)

Unmade Carnaval: About 550 Unmade have been destroyed. The remaining survivors have withdrawn to their General's final defense.

Hell Divers: 350 Combat Soldiers (includes about 50 losses from Withering Fire at the start of the battle from Darkwatch Tower)​
 

Jason Lee Scott

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Too familiar. Far too familiar.

She would not suffer the same fate as she had before. Rita stormed into her chambers, furious at the failure of her forces. The two storied quarters had a balcony not unlike the one back at her palace on Earth’s moon, but what was most important now was the heavy doors here putties sealed shut. Rita marched to the top level, noting the difficulty in her movement. Darkseid’s magic was waning, but was it by his choice? Either way it was not a comforting thought to her.

“Fortify the door!” Rita ordered, putting all other thoughts aside for the time being.

Putties rushed to the barricade the only entrance, but it didn’t matter. The doors were blown from the hinges not long after they attempted to move obstacles in front of them. Rita was quick to cast a wave of fire over the entrance, reducing the entry team to a pile of burning, charred corpses. Hell Divers struggled to climb over them, while the putties split their workload between barricading the staircase with bookshelves, and attacking those who made it through. Rita was more than happy to unleash a bolt of lightning at every mortal she caught of glimpse of through the carnage.

Yet they kept coming. She didn’t find any bit of it impressive or inspiring, just aggravating. How many more would she have to deal with in this ridiculous brawl?

Her questions were answered at the sounds of gunfire. Unable to climb through, the Hell Divers were shooting their way into the interior instead. Rita cursed loudly as she fired another streak of lightning into the crowd. This time the response was heavy machine gun fire tearing from the doorway, causing the two putty patrollers nearest to do nothing more than run in circles with their hands on their heads.

“Fools!” Rita screamed as she waved her wand once more.

The flames melting the corpses rose further, just as the Doomguy was climbing through the chaos. The nearest two putties were absorbed in the flames, and their panicked, burning bodies were quick to tackle the leader of the Hell Divers. More of the army braved its way through the inferno, only to be greeted by the putty patrollers with nowhere else to run. The battle was close and intimate, with little room on the lower levels.

“You can’t win, you miserable cretins!” Rita shouted down the staircase as she stoked the wall of fire with her magic. “Darkseid will find your weakness! He will exploit it! And you will become one of us!”

More putties rushed to Rita’s side, hurling whatever objects they could find at the top level down to the incoming enemies. The barricades at the stairs were holding, but only because everyone was too busy fighting, dodging debris, or being on fire to tear them down. Rita was pleased with that outcome, and was quick to cast a bolt of lightning towards the centaur woman.

“He pulled me from a time and a place far away from all of this! Beyond what you can comprehend! Nothing is beyond is reach!” Rita screamed.

And yet, the Hell Divers pressed forward. Rita cared not, for they had been warned. She would continue her magical assault from on high, and she would make her new master proud. The Unmaking would continue.
 

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They pushed forward and broke through the makeshift barricades that had been put up to try and stop them. Gunfire and chainsaws shredded through the flimsy woodwork toppled over to keep them out, and the rage-driven green tide of the Hell Divers stormed in. They were met with a surprisingly fierce resistance from the comparatively few enemy soldiers within, as fire and lightning crashed down into the entryways from the unmade leader, roasting and blasting apart enemy and ally alike.

With a renewing chant of their firm, unshaking mantra, the Hell Divers ignored the frenzied assault and pushed through. Some of them burned, but they pressed on and fell into the flames, giving footing for their fellow soldiers to barge through.

Altanis recoiled from a bolt of lightning thrown her way, and her gaze snapped up to the looming form of the undead space witch lording over them all. Fire and lightning and magic rained down upon anything and everything that her eyes passed over, even as her frantic gibbering soldiers twitched and cavorted about hurling everything they could get their hands on down at the fighting below.

"Enough of this..." The hellspawn snarled, giving her trident a twirl and cleanly beheading a leaping putty patroller. "Commander!" she barked, in the general direction of Doomguy as she swept a hand and sent the burning putties that had tackled him down crashing into the nearby wall, and the slayer of hell itself was yanked back up onto his feet, shotgun being slammed into his hands. "Leave the pest at the top of this to me!"

The response the came from the doom slayer was a simple wordless glare, but he rounded on an approaching enemy and put a shotgun blast directly into its chest as he stormed back into the fray.

Altanis stormed forward, up the stairs. Fire and lightning crashed down toward her, and it met with a shimmering wall of psionic force inches before her, breaking and scattering into wild bursts and harmless coronas around her. The barricade at the top of the stairs would have been a hard obstacle to pass for many...but before the already boiling fury of the demonic tactician it crumbled and splintered like old rotted driftwood, a wave of psychic energy smashing it apart as surely as any runaway vehicle.

Fire licked up around her hooves as she pushed through, and a bolt of green lightning crashed into her. The voltage coursed through her, the remaining armor she still wore popping and crackling as arcs of electricity sizzled and flickered over its surface. Altanis grit her teeth, visible eye wide and dim yellow-gold veins spreading through the blackness. The putties at the side of their leader desperately came to her defense, swarming close and rushing the Hell Diver general, but they were met with a wordless shriek and a backhanded swipe of her empty hand, and they all went flying; sailing end over end over the railing and balcony to go crashing down into the hungry maw of fire and bullets below.

"You think you actually have a chance to win?!" Rita Repulsa screamed at the all too swiftly approaching horse-woman as she shuffled back, her staff sweeping out and letting loose blazing sheets of flame. "Even if you destroy me, what does it gain you?! What use will it serve, in the long run?!" She slammed the butt of her staff on the floor, sending out spiking tendrils and waves of darkness to lash at the approaching demon. "It gets you nothing! All your efforts, wasted! You will just exhaust yourselves, and be easy prey for the gifts of His power! You will become one of—!"

Through the wall of green flames, Altanis's gleaming gold eye shone as her clawed hand shot forth, grabbing the unmade sorceress by the throat in an iron-tight grasp. Her armor had been burned and blasted away, leaving the scorched and bloodied red flesh beneath to show. "Silence, witch!" A dull glow of hazy black and red swirled around her arm as he grip slowly tightened.

"Do you think that this...any of this, matters?" She snarled. "That whoever 'wins' this ridiculous little contest, who lives or dies here, actually matters?!" She stormed forward, yanking the space witch off the ground entirely and charging forward to slam her into the wall, the impact splintering the wood and stonework behind it. Though her body had begun to ache and fail her from the damage of this latest battle, sheer stubborn pride kept her going.

"This is all some absurd farce, a private little spectacle which has no bearing on anything. All those worlds outside? The stars around them?" She sneered derisively, her lips curling into a vicious, predatory smirk. "They won't be touched by anything that happens here. It's all isolated, and kept here by that ridiculous Karl Jak. Even if we all fail here, even if you actually won...it wouldn't matter."

"Then why do you fight?!" Rita shrieked, her staff raising up and letting fly a chaotic torrent of magic; fire and lightning and darkness and ice shredding and ruining everything around them, threatening to send the entire upper level crashing down. "Why do you not just give up, and embrace Darkseid?!"

"Because..." Altanis's grip tightened, and the former mirth of her expression faded entirely. "I bow to no one, not even in some absurd game. Because I despise everything that you and your band of disgusting vermin stand for. Because you took something precious away from me." Her eyes blazed a vibrant gold, even through the eyepatch covering one. And this time the tears that welled up in them weren't just blinked away; nearly the same thick, tar-like black sludge of her blood slowly dripped and ran down her face as her fury mounted to an all-new height. She was angry...

Angry at herself for having the gall to compare that little human woman to her former lord, even if just in attitude.

Angry at the unmade for taking that little human woman away from her.

Angry at this 'Darkseid' for being at the root of all this sickening mess.

Angry that she had been killed, actually killed, by insane fools seeking his favor back in that dusty desert.

Angry that these insufferable clowns, puppeted and mimicking the ridiculous leader of the unmade forces here, had so severely wounded and injured her.

But above all of that...the thing that made her furious beyond words?

"All your nonsense about what does and doesn't matter, doesn't matter!" Rita Repulsa shrieked, raising her staff again. "Even outside of this place, off this comet and out there; it will all be the same! Resist as much as you want, fight all you like; you'll still exhaust yourselves in the end, and join Darkseid!"

Their ego.

An explosion of psionic and magical force erupted, blowing the space witch completely through the wall she was pinned to even as her magic finally tore apart the upper balcony completely. Chunks of stone and wood and glass fell down in huge dusty showers, burying both combatants under an avalanche of burning rubble.
 

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Face to Face
Fortress Gehenna vs the Hell Divers

Rita sputtered coagulated fluids as she jammed her staff into the ground and used it to will her battered, desiccated body back to its feet.

She’d been blown clean from the heart of the bastion and into a courtyard. All around her, the pitter-patter of small arm’s fire and the cacophony of explosives had died down. A handful of putty patrollers swarmed to her location, but they were quickly under fire once again as the Hell Divers pressed, sensing the fact that the water was thick with blood.

“Come then!” Rita barked as she slammed her staff into the ground once more. On this occasion, the earth itself seemed to buckle under the madwoman’s wills, as the fortress itself shuddered as a swarm of marines moved onto her position.

“Die!” She screamed as she angled the staff and fired a bolt of lightning into the crowd. She had seen the Doom Slayer there, among the vile usurpers, and she was certain that the shuddering corpse that went crashing back into the bowels of the fortress was his.

The cold barrel of a shotgun pressing into the side of her head informed her that she was wrong.

“No!” Rita roared as she swung the staff. She managed to strike the marine with the electrified weapon, but even as the lightning ravaged across his body, Doomguy squeezed the trigger.

***

Battle Updates

As noted in the previous update, the Fortress has been taken and ransacked. It can be repaired for the cost of 2 days, after which it will require a full garrison to function.

While Pennywise remains at large, the Unmade Carnaval has no avenue to victory. RIP.

Casualty Reports

Unmade Carnaval: All Unmade Carnaval forces at Gehenna have been destroyed.

Rita Repulsa is dead.

Hell Divers: 416 total casualties

Caboose is dead.

Doomguy’s injuries are upgraded to one Insane Injury.
 

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Doomguy and the Hell Divers had barely had time to relish the moment when they heard the slow clap from the far end of the courtyard.

Still struggling to steady his breathing after the zombie woman's foul magics had nearly ravaged him, Doomguy turned to see the gold-plated king standing behind two neat rows of armed soldiers.

"Congratulations!" Gilgamesh declared as he reached over his shoulder and drew a sword from a vault portal. "I'm here so you may tender your surrender," he added to a thunderous chorus of 'hoo-rahs' from his assembled forces.
 

Remilia Scarlet

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I sat upon the mountain of rubble, applying a tourniquet to my wounded leg as men worked tirelessly to undig the buried from the ruins of the administration building, my vision swimming from the pain. We had fought bravely against the Unmade, men willing to throw themselves into the heart of combat just to give the men before them a chance to push a further inch. The wounded laid near the bombed out field, many still holding their weapons in preparation for another attack. We had smashed through every enemy we had faced against, turning odds in our favor time and time again. I scanned out among those still standing, few of what was left of our original legion. They were often as drained as everyone else, yet still they worked tirelessly to save the fallen before s camp would be set

“Commander!” A shout from a rockman with armor riveted to his skin took my notice, standing over the unconscious body of Altanis. I shot up, a sudden pang of pain shooting through me and I was forced to lean on a nearby guard. “She’s still breathing!”

“Get her out quickly!” I shouted back, grateful for that small favor. There was still many left buried under the pile of debris, and deep in enemy territory there was always a chance of an attack.

Then the golden manchild showed up with his personal pissboys.

HIs shout drew the attention off all the Hell Divers, sending them to dive for any cover as their guns aimed out into the gaudy enemy. I rose up to what remained of a set of barricades, seething as I tried to store a hole in Gilgamesh’s skull. The audacity of this cut rate megalomanic. I would finish what I had started back in Dante's Abyss long ago and smash his skull into his chest cavity by the end of this battle.

“Someone hand me a sniper rifle!” I shouted, looking across the enemy lined before us. “I’ll put a bolt between his good damn eyes!.”

“Sir. ” I heard a pensive voice beside me. Glum, timid. It should have prepared my for what would happen, but my focus was on giving golden boy a fight for his life.

“Not now! Get everyone behind cover, and someone turn on the battle mus-”

“SIR!” the voice shouted, breaking my fumeing need for combat. I glanced over to the medic, who stared up at me with woeful eyes, and she slowly raised up something in her hands.

A blue helmet, the yellow visor cracked.

“I found him in the rubble, sir” She said again, and I felt my heart sink down into the lowest pits of my stomach. “He… he… he didn’t-” She couldn’t finish, tears welling up in her eyes. She did not need to. I took hold of the helmet in my hands, the weight greater than any weapon I wielded. I could feel a hot stinging on my face as tears rolled down them, a pained bellow seeking to escape from my entire body.

I wanted to throw myself at the enemy, to shred the golden army in the throws of a berserking frenzy. It had been my way for so long, as the pain was so deep to see him no longer on this battlefield. My mind racing to every moment with him, those groans of annoyance turning to melancholy. I wanted to turn this entire island into a bloodbath of my creation. To be knee deep in the dead once more.

But as I had told him, our purpose was to remember others.

My men stared up at me, a mix of worry and fear as they were left holding their breath. I looked at them, waiting for their leader’s command. I was crestfallen, and made a choice that still hurts to think of.

“Get a messenger, and send him to Gilgamesh. Tell him we are surrendering, under the condition that no troops under my command are to be slain.“ I said, each fiber of my being screaming in refusal yet I was left to make the call.

“Stand down, men. We’re done here.”
 
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