[NB] Ruins of the Crimson Tower (Castle)

[Karl Jak]

Far to the north, a terrifying tower had seemed to go up, almost overnight. Looming over the rest of the island, the Crimson Tower cast an unnerving glow from its apex that could be seen from halfway across the landmass. Near to the beating heart of the tower, a monster in clown’s clothing leered out through the stained glass.

It had been reborn. Remade, even. Fresh power burned through It’s veins. Stretched out in front of it It was an entire landmass full of meat, ready for the taking.

Down below, the shambling, soulless monsters and a retinue of humans who spoke more gibberish than Pennywise performed their functions. Soon, the Unmade Carnaval would start to spread across this island, an incurable wave of pestilence and destruction that would see the unmaking of all life that stood in its path.

Army overview: The Unmade Carnaval has a loose, you guessed it, carnival theme, with many of its soldiers sporting variants of clown or circus attire. Many of the unmade soldiers attack with weapons that have often been fused to their bodies, giving many of them the appearance of being part-circus, part-fleshly machine, and part-whatever they may have been in a past life. Other members of this force are bestial creatures who were already corrupt and monstrous before being ‘imbued’ with the corrupting forces of the Fallen Arbiter. Some can still speak but many, while they seem to understand, are capable only of guttural sounds.

Hey, Please note: All NPCs and PCs for the Unmade Carnaval (UC) start here. Please note that posting is not a requirement for moving from your Castle square.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Something was different.

For a hundred-billion years, before the universe and long before the first glittering pinpricks of stars began to light the sky over a scummy little dirtball called Earth, It had always been the same.

Once—and this It knew to be true, knew it down to the very core of Its being—It had been but a creature of simple desires. A creature of habit, even. From the moment Maturin’s mammoth belly had gurgled and that ugly old reptile vomited the universe into existence, It had preyed upon creation. It feasted upon the people of Derry for years, after all, painstakingly shaping their sleepy little town into the perfect hunting ground: glutting Itself on their delectable emotions, the flavorful byproducts of their wildest imaginings, their fear.

So why, then, was It feeling… different?

Whereas It had been smiling before, gazing out from Its mighty tower with a sensation approaching satisfaction purring in Its throat, the Unmade creature’s attitude was now much different. Its clownish face curled into a sneer, candy-red lips peeling back to reveal dozens of needle-sharp teeth.

It despised change.

The first change had been the idiot children, of course. Always the children, that wretched Losers Club. Disgusting little vermin, but oh, how It had longed to rend their flesh with Its teeth, sample their sweet, sweet terror (It shivered just thinking about It)... but that was beside the point.

In Its interactions with that pathetic band of misfits, and all the other defeats that came after, It had learned some things about Itself. Things that It did not like. All It wanted was to eat, sleep, dream, and wake to eat again. Was that too much to ask?

Abruptly, the stained glass window before It flickered, kaleidoscopic fractals of light pulsing out from the heart of the Crimson Tower. The rainbow-colored gleam swept over the ground like the glare of some colossal eye, casting the forms of the shambling, shuffling troops below into stark relief. Hundreds of corrupted bodies milled about the grounds surrounding the dark stronghold, their very presence serving to poison the landscape— twisting the tropical forest into a thorny, corrupted snarl of ambiguous plant matter.

A look of speculation came over Its features, Its inhuman visage furrowing in cruel contemplation.

These creatures were obviously lesser than Itself, nowhere near approaching the power of Its deadlights. Their eyes glowed with empty malice, some strange power compelling them to roam about with a single-minded purpose quite different from Its own sophisticated thinking. Still, where before It would have felt no attachment to this horde of writhing monstrosities, being a solitary predator by nature, It now felt a sense of... kin-bonding?

Yes, something was different. Very different. But, despite Itself, It did not feel upset. No, quite the opposite, in fact…

There was something like a hum, buzzing throughout Its skull, resonating in a melodious thrum alongside the usual ebb and flow of Its deadlights. The hum had begun some time ago, It was not quite sure when. It was a pleasant enough noise, It supposed. Soothing, like when It had first emerged from nothingness, swaddled by the void-like depths of the macroverse. A strange sensation, one that It had never felt outside of dreaming, or perhaps only after a particularly satisfactory meal.

Indeed, there was something else there, hidden within the sweet notes of the song. Something other, slipped inside like a bitter pill that It was made to swallow no matter how much It retched and choked. A name, repeated over and over again inside the clutches of Its demented mind, erasing all memories and reshaping Its most innate desires: Darkseid, Darkseid, Darkseid.

How curious! How strange! The Others had already departed in the service of this Darkseid. Flayed of all insubordination as It was, it was a mighty struggle to resist the urge to do the same, to mindlessly hurl Itself at whatever enemies It might encounter in this grand new hunting ground...

Yet, deep down, It was still a creature of habit. While the Dark Arbiter's influence was great, Its will to survive was just as powerful... and—horror of horrors!—Its fear. It was anyone's guess when It would leave the sanctity of Its tower... if It ever deigned to leave at all.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Assassination Attempt!​

The lead assassin couldn’t believe the simplicity with which this operation had gone.

After all that travel. After losing their scouts from the bombardments. After all the stalking through this monster-ridden landscape.

The fucking clown was just sitting there at a table, staring at a plate of … porkchops?

Business time.

Stealthed, the assassin made his way into the room—his eyes never leaving Pennywise, who likewise hadn’t moved a whole lot. The assassin had read the dossier, so he knew this fuck was weird as hell, not to mention whatever being unmade had done to the creature.

Probably day dreaming about diddling kids, the sick fuck. Gonna gut this bitch.

So close now. The assassin could smell the sick stench of the creature.

NOW!

In an almost euphoric haze, the assassin lunged and violently started to stab Pennywise. The katchin blade sliced effortlessly through the corrupt flesh of the clown-beast, who was so taken aback that It offered no resistance as the blood poured from beneath its combat suit.

Combat suit?

It was then that the assassin saw what was really going on. It wasn’t Pennywise who sat in that chair but one of his fellow soldiers. The assassin, bound to the chair, was dead from about a half a dozen lethal wounds, and his blood was already pouring to the floor in sheets.

“Oh, fuck, what just happened?” The man whispered as he dropped his bloodstained knife and backed up into a solid mass that wasn’t there ten seconds ago. Eyes wide with horror as he felt the hot breath on his neck, the assassin simply clenched his eyes shut and made peace with his god of choice before Pennywise opened his great maw and devoured the man’s head.

6 Miniskirt Armada Assassins have been killed or killed themselves.
2 Unmade Carnaval Assassins have been destroyed.

Pennywise is full.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Sabotage!​

The screams brought Pennywise down from his lair at near the apex of the Crimson Tower.

Head tilted, the monstrous Commander peered into the room where a dead body lay in one corner, and in the center of the room, another individual was writhing in agony.

“oHoHo,” Pennywise muttered as he crept into the room and looked down at the wounded man. “You’ve come to play with us?”

The Miniskirt spy spit at the clown’s face, which registered no response as the saliva dripped down It’s painted visage.

As the spit dripped off the side of Pennywise’s cheek, the unmade Commander finally grinned as his shadow fell over the man. “Friend time.”

1 Miniskirt Armada Spy has been killed.
1 Miniskirt Armada Spy has been captured.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
???​

Pennywise returned to Its lair and found itself drawn to one of the chamber’s assorted windows.

It glanced up at the moon and sneered.

Chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh …

The clown monster twisted (literally) its head around to survey its surroundings for some sign of ingress into its domain.

Had It simply looked down to the base of the Crimson Tower, It may have noticed the damp, mute goliath in a hockey mask looking up at it.

Pennywise’s focus returned to the world beyond the window, and a cursory look down revealed nothing out of the ordinary around the ‘castle’ of the Unmade Carnaval.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Assassination Attempt!​

They had traveled far and wide, through a network of insidious traps and dangerous obstacles.

They were inside the belly of the beast, and for what it seemed, everything was progressing according to plan. Broken into squadrons and shrouded to avoid detection, the Hell Diver assassins had penetrated the Crimson Tower, with each group branching off in the event that the situation … unfolded.

The lieutenant, a dark-skinned woman whose name was lost in time and space, led a squad that consisted of a blonde maniac and three of the most adept killers from their army. They crept and crawled their way up to what had to be some sort of command chamber.

“Spread out,” the unnamed bandit rasped as she gestured around the room. “Anything of value. Destroy it or steal what’s portable. Whatever we can’t take with us, we deprive from them. We have to make it as hard for these fuckers to kill our people as we can.”

Toga sauntered over to a table and glanced at some maps that seemed to have pictures of something strategic. With a shrug, she rolled them up and stuff them into the pouch she wore slung over one of her shoulders. For the rest of the stuff on the workstation, she rendered it ‘useless’ with a manic amount of ripping and tearing.

The group had nearly picked over the room when the doors on the far side of the chamber cracked open.

Without hesitation, the five spies activated their concealment devices and stepped into the nearest shadow they could find.

“Oh no,” a deep, reptilian voice intoned as a literal dragon lumbered into the room. Ridley tilted his head as he looked at the scene. “You think this means anything?” He inquired as he scanned around the room. “I know you’re still here.” The dragon shot a burst of plasma and bathed a third of the room in molten flames. The pair of Hell Diver spies there, try as they might, screamed horribly as their suits, flesh, and bones were rendered to a sludgy ash by the searing heat. “You think to invade this castle? You have come to a literal den of vipers, and you expected… nothing?”

A second burst, but the spy lunged forward, evading the stream and running straight at the dragon. A dagger flashed in his hands, but he missed with an errant swing.

Ridley did not miss, and the dragon’s tail casually disembowled the man.

Toga, eyes wide but feeling as alive as she ever had, reached for her weapons when the lieutenant grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her aside. Even if she had wanted to, the woman’s insane strength would have prevented the teenager from making a different choice.

The pair ran for the set of heavy double doors at the other end of the room, and with the nameless bandit crashing into them, they easily gave way. The twosome were through, and no sooner had they slammed the doors shut than a burst of super-hot plasma crashed into the other side.

“Let’s go,” the Nameless Woman whispered as both of them heard the commotion from the lower levels of the castle. Ascending the staircase that lay before them, they passed through another set of doors that slowly swung shut behind them.

“What the fuck is this?” The lieutenant murmured as a large chandelier flashed to life, bathing the room in an uneasy yellow glow that illuminated the macabre decorations that lined the walls.

“Amazing,” Toga spoke with a gasp as she looked at the all the various corpses impaled along the chamber walls. While some were gnawed behind comprehension, others were intact enough to see that these were soldiers, with some garbed in blue accents and others in green. “Some collection.”

Chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh …

While Nameless Woman was having absolutely none of this shit, Toga removed the fancy headpiece given to her for this mission and let it drop to the ground as she walked into the center of the room. She pulled down her face mask to reveal a wide smile as she searched for something among all the blood and corpses.

Chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh!

At the sound, Toga turned sharply and saw her hunk half hidden in shadows.

Those muscular shoulders. Those ratty clothes that seemed to be wet all the time. That glinting machete!

“My Jason!” The teenager shouted as she raced to ‘her man’, much to the verbal protests of her lieutenant.

Toga had got to within an arm’s reach of the mute serial killer when she noticed that the center of his hockey mask had a red circle on it.

And since when did Jason wear a clown suit?

The teenager’s eyes went wide as she felt the cold steel tear through her suit and narrowly miss one of her lungs. Her gaze dropped to the weapon and then quickly returned to her boo…

“You’re not Jason,” she rasped as she stared at the grinning clown, whose mouth fell open at the accusation.

“I’m Pennywise,” he replied cordially before nodding his head a few times. “Welcome. A long time since I’ve had such a young visitor.”

Toga noticed that there was some saliva dripping down the corner of the deranged clown’s mouth.

“Such a loooong time!”

Toga and the Nameless Lady are trapped in the lair of Pennywise. The two of you (Jade and Jeff) get a post each and, naturally, you can play this scene however you desire, technically speaking. I will be back after those posts (AND/OR 36 hours) to cap off this scene.

40 Unmade Carnaval Combat Soldiers were destroyed.

“The Branded Vengeance” has lost 73 soldiers, who either killed themselves or were killed.
20 were captured alive.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Content Warning: Seriously grotesque descriptions. Dismemberment. Etc.

With a jerk and a pained gasp, Toga managed to wrench herself free of the machete lodged in her chest. A weak spray of blood splattered from the wound as the teen staggered backward, one of her hands reaching up to uselessly grasp at the gaping tear in her flesh. Her fingers came away wet, skin stained with a lovely shade of deep crimson, and her face blanched at the sight.

Strangely enough, though, her injury didn’t feel like a stab wound at all. She would know, after all! Brows furrowing, Toga prodded at the gash a bit more, and found something that chilled her to the bone: five identical puncture marks, embedded deep between her ribs. Almost like—

Eyes widening, Toga’s gaze snapped up to the clown. Watching in sick fascination, she observed as the machete in Its grasp just... melted, the glinting, silvery metal reshaping into an array of wickedly-sharp claws.

At the look on her face, Its painted visage split into a wide grin, a pair of burning yellow eyes lazily tracking the teenager’s movements.

“Toga Himiko,” It croaked, the gravelly syllables sounding like they’d been dredged up from the filthiest depths of a sewer drain. “What an interesting little girl you are. I’ve heard so much about you, yes, I have! An interesting girl with a nasty little quirk...” the creature’s words pitched into a growl, cherry red lips parting to reveal a flash of shark-like teeth.

“Ah. You know about that?” Toga asked, voice barren of all emotion, forcing her expression into a perfect mask of calm. She took another step backward, eyes darting around as she attempted to beat a hasty retreat.

If it was at all possible, Pennywise’s grin widened further. Slowly, deliberately, It began to slink forward, clearly telegraphing Its movements. Its great big clown shoes padded feather-light over the floor, eating up the distance between them.

“Oh, yes. I know all about you. Eyes everywhere, y’see…” the clown’s voice trailed off, a long, thin string of drool dripping from Its slack bottom lip. It glanced around the gory chamber, the pupils of Its eyes drifting off to point in polar opposite directions, bouncing around like a game of Pong inside Its eyeballs.

“Private Himiko…” the Nameless Woman ground out, every muscle in her body bristling with tension. She’d noticed the clown’s advance, slow as it was, and didn’t trust the almost… genial tone Pennywise had adopted for this conversation.

But it was like Toga hadn’t heard her at all. Instead, her eyes remained fixed straight ahead, locked on the bizarre, loping form of the creature before her. Tucked securely behind her back, the fingers of one hand wrapped around the handle of a large kitchen knife concealed inside a compartment of her armor.

Abruptly, Pennywise’s eyes snapped forward, irises burning into the girl’s face. Its pupils sprang into focus, pinpricks of black void that seemed to suck all light from the room, each one surrounded by a thin, flickering ring of fiery orange.

Toga froze, certain that she’d been caught out, but was surprised when the clown just… giggled. Actually giggled, Its head canting unnaturally to the side as It looked at her, candy red lips quivering with mirth.

“Yes, yes. I have eyes everywhere, as I’m sure your little friends are learning right about now!” It crowed, crouching down so that It was at eye level with her. “But you won’t need to worry about any of that anymore, Little Buddy, because I’ll let you in on a little secret… you and I, we’re very alike. So alone, so… hungry. Aren’t you tired of all this fighting? The fear, the destruction? Don’t you want to just let it all… float away?”

Toga’s cat-like eyes narrowed. Shaking her head, the teen’s grip tightened around her knife, the metal glinting as it shifted within her trembling grasp. “I already have a boyfriend, so you can buzz off, Bozo! Your little scare act isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to be scared,” It whispered, now only several paces away despite Toga’s best efforts to put some distance between them. The creature’s oily voice hissed between Its fanged teeth, becoming increasingly distorted, rotten, otherworldly. “I want you... to be… absolutely PETRIFIED!”

The clown lunged, a flurry of frilled ruffles and serrated teeth flying straight at Toga’s face. The teen scarcely had time to blink before a blur of metal went whirling past her head, smashing right through the clown’s skull. Bizarrely, the creature dissipated in a wisp of smoke just as the Nameless Woman’s hammer made contact.

It all happened so fast that it took the soldiers a minute to realize what had happened— the clown had been a fuckin’ illusion!

“Fuck that,” Bandit spat, staggering with the momentum of her swing, the engine built into her massive hammer guttering a cloud of thick black smoke as it slammed against the floor. She righted herself soon enough, sneering as her head swiveled around to search for the Unmade Commander. “Now, where the hell is it? Where’s the fucking clown?!”

Her young companion’s mouth opened, about to respond, when her eyes snagged on a flicker of movement over the woman’s shoulder.

One of the trophies mounted on the wall, his green armor cracked with blood and guts spilling out like an egg’s yolk, was moving.

“H-h...hhh...” the Hell Diver scout gurgled, reaching out for her with grasping, blood-stained fingers. He couldn’t reach far enough, a thick metal stake effectively pinning him to the wall by his stomach, but he fought to reach her all the same. “Help me…”

Another one of the Unmade’s grisly trophies stirred, dressed in blue fatigues this time and utterly headless. Yet, even though this trophy’s head was nothing more than a gory stump, a few words bubbled out from the remnants of their bleeding, shredded throat: “Help us!”

It was like a dam breaking. All of a sudden, the chamber was alive with movement, a chorus of pleas and agonized screams ringing around the room at a deafening volume. Dead soldiers in various states of decay and dismemberment writhed against the wall, a curtain of shredded meat begging for help that was far, far too late in coming.

“Why did you do this to us?”

“Why did you send us here?”

“We died because of you!”

“Oh, fuck,” the lieutenant breathed, grabbing hold of Toga’s wrist and tugging her in close, just out of reach of the clawing hands. The two Hell Divers stared in abject horror at the macabre scene unfolding around them, forced to cover their ears as the unholy refrain hit fever pitch.

 

[Toga Voorhees]

Best read in time to this:

It's close to midnight and an evil clown is lurking in the dark.
And in the room's light, Toga sees something that almost stops her heart.
She tries to scream but terror takes the sound before she makes it.
She starts to freeze at the horror of those reincarnated guys.
She's paralyzed!

'Cause this is a killer clown-spider fight!
And no one's gonna save her from the beast that loves to fright.
Her hands shake as she prepares to fight,
Against a monster that wants to eat her tonight!

She sees the door's closed, and realizes there's nowhere left to run.
The Lady holds her hand and they wonder if they'll ever see the sun.
They close their eyes and hope that this is just imagination.
But all the while, they hear the wails of the deceased men.
It's the Clown's den!

'Cause this is a killer, clown-spider fight!
And there ain't no second chance against the thing with who loves to fright.
Trying to make it through the night!
They're fighting for their lives against a spooky monster tonight!

The corpses call,
And then start to walk in their masquerade.
There's no escaping the jaws of Pennywise this time.
Is this the end of her life?

IT's out to get them, there's bodies closing in on every side.
IT'll try to frighten them, unless they steel their hearts against the sight.
Now is the time for the two Helldivers to huddle close together.
All through the night, they'll protect each other from the most obscene.
They'll make it bleed!

This isn't just a one-sided fight!
'Cause fuck that Clown if it even thinks to dare try!
But their chests are tight,
And hearts full of fright, as they share a killer, thriller, chiller,
Thriller tonight!

But maybe with their combined might,
The girls can survive to make it past the cold night.
Against a clown that loves to fright.
Their grips tighten as they share a thought,

They're gonna kill IT tonight.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Assassination Attempt! (Pt 2)​

The odds should have been in their favor.

Yet, they were not.

The malaise and cloak of dread seemed to deepen on the two of them as they tried to find a way to fight back against the monster.

With the chattering, groaning corpses screaming down at them, and the monstrous clown laughing and seeming to move from place to place at a whim, there was little they could do. Even when they thought they landed blows upon the clown, they’d discover they had simply bludgeoned some jangling Miniskirt Armada corpse.

“Fuck this,” Nameless Lady barked. “It’s just toying with us, let’s get out of here.” She made a beeline for the door as a frown spread across Pennywise’s features.

Still feeling a haze in her head, Toga moved to pursue her companion but was immediately stopped when the bandit’s torso crashed backwards into her.

Just the torso.

Never one to be squeamish, Toga shoved away the sputtering piece of corpse but not before grabbing a knife from the belt worn by her lieutenant.

“Why would you try to leave, Pennywise?” The clown cooed as he slithered his way closer to Toga. “I thought you were going to be my frieeeend, Toga. My friend til the end.”

“Not a chance,” she growled as she moved forward and swung the blade. At the last second, the adolescent girl twisted and managed to stab the real Pennywise, who had slid around behind her.

The clown’s face contorted into something that vaguely resembled discomfort, but then that impossible jaw just sagged open to reveal a maw full of rows and rows of shark-like teeth. Back in the clown’s throat, a warm orange light seemed to call to Toga. She felt as if the ground beneath her had gently fallen away, and she was swimming—swimming into that warm glow.

N-no!

Toga turned her own knife into her thigh, and that shock was enough to snap her out of the haze.

Pennywise’s jaw clapped back into place, but that smile hadn’t left his face. “Come now, Toga. Embrace the deadlights.”

“Puh-lease, I’d literally rather die than hang out with you,” Toga replied calmy before she even more casually slit her own throat.

Nameless Lady is dead.

Toga Himiko is dead.

Pennywise has a Minor Injury (he got stabbed!)

 

[Ridley]

Ridley’s massive frame stood still as a statue, unmoving, as the monstrous reptilian strained his ears. The look on his face was one of mirth, as he waited, the time ticked by as the unmade general listened to the fighting. The screaming. The thumps and bumps of combat betrayed only slightly by the padded doors. The master of this castle had chosen to take these enemies on alone. It was the first thing Ridley had seen from the creature called ‘IT’ that he’d found himself respecting, yet the closed door remained vexing.

The unmade reptile bared its teeth with a low growl as the doors slowly opened, and he heard the sound of gurgling, sucking and consuming. The eldritch freak had swallowed its prey as Ridley took his first step into the chamber, and the reptilian was forced only to watch as it took one last swallow, blood across the front of its clown outfit like a frilly lace bib.

The clown could fight, after all, and it looked like the little creature had consumed the intruders with due aplomb.

Ridley turned as one reddened eye met with Pennywise’s own, as the creature returned to its simpering clown costume, locking eyes with It. A disgusting eldritch entity, but Ridley had worked with such things before. He saw nothing to particularly care about with this one.

The Unmade commander met his gaze with cold, unfeeling eyes of his own, attempting to enforce his will with a look, and Ridley’s glare grew sharper. They simply sat there, tensed and poised to fight.

It took thirty seconds before Pennywise broke the silence, and both monsters began to move, slowly circling each other in the ruined room. Ridley’s tail lashed as the clown began to giggle.

“I see you’ve consumed your… kill.”

“Oh ho! Not to your taste! What a connoisseur!” It would reply with a fanged grin.

Ridley’s response was compounded as the chimp on its arm screamed to life, banging its little cymbal together with a spurt of energy that belied its seemingly dead appearance on the space pirates shoulder. “Few things taste worse” Ridley replied, eye slowly shifting to focus on the little monkey.

Pennywise continued their slow dance. “Well, if you’re not here to learn how to share, why are you here!” The Clown yelled, its voice warping on the last syllable as a gurgling growl escaped its maw.

“I need things from you.”

“Oh! You need things from Ol’ Pennywise! And why should I grant you these things, Ridley?” It would taunt.

Ridley’s eye turned and narrowed, as the two continued to circle. By now, both creatures seemed to be focused on something, some invisible moment. Both apex predators looked the other up and down, hoping to find some sort of weakness, some golden opportunity only they knew how to spot.

Neither found it, and eventually, It simply threw two frilly-gloved hands up in the air and gave a chortling call. “Well then, I guess you shall have - things! General Ridley!”

The Cunning God of Death gave a sadistic smile.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Dewey Duck stood awkwardly in the entryway of a dark chamber inside the Crimson Tower, waiting for the Unmade Commander to finish reviewing the message Princess-Commander Azula had sent. He idly scuffed his webbed feet against the floor, casting a furtive glance around, and tried not to seem too obviously freaked out.

It had been… surprisingly easy to gain admittance to the Unmade Carnaval’s castle, at least once he’d identified himself as a messenger. Especially after hearing what had become of the Miniskirt Armada’s assassins and spies. Yet, oddly enough, the entire experience had been just plain boring so far. To make matters worse, there was no sign of mom, either. It was just him... and the clown.

In the center of the room, Pennywise peered at the letter the little fella had brought, the piece of parchment paper utterly dwarfed by Its long, gloved fingers. Like a child with a coloring book, the clown lay sprawled out on Its back upon a stone chair that could only loosely be called a throne, the perfect example of feline laziness. Its great big floppy clown shoes kicked up every once in a while, jerking around whenever something particularly amusing leaped out from the page, but other than that, the room was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

While the clown’s painted face betrayed no emotion as It read, Its eyes swirled and bloomed with pinpricks of color-- lethal yellow slowly morphing into a cheerfully vibrant baby blue.

By royal decree—

You have been summoned by the new Princess-Commander Azula of the Miniskirt Armada to deliver notice of surrender to her. If you should fail to do so, expect her burning wrath to fall upon you quickly and in full force. She is willing to accept terms of surrender that include your full capitulation and service to she, the Princess-Commander, or the immediate self-destruction of the entire unmade Carnaval. Please feel free to deliver your affirmative notice of surrender personally — alone — or through a single representative. This messenger can escort you to a neutral location to concede your forfeit.

May our enemies burn and our friends burn bright,
Princess-Commander Azula

Suddenly, a high-pitched giggle trickled out into the room, shattering the silence. It was soon followed by a chuckle, then a short, barked guffaw.

Dewey glanced up, alarmed, as the clown abruptly exploded into a fit of cackling, the little silvery bells attached to Its costume jingling merrily as It fought to contain Its mirth. Pennywise’s painted maw grinned wide, sharp teeth glinting in the darkness as It hooted and howled with laughter.

“Oh! Oh!” It rasped, breathless, finally managing to contain Itself. There was a light ringing of bells as the clown readjusted Itself upon Its throne, rising into a proper seated position so that It could fling a wild grin his way. “This is rich! I had no idea the Miniskirt Armada had such a grand sense of humor!”

Dewey’s brow furrowed, unsure if he should say anything to defend his leader’s choices… but wisely chose to remain silent.

He needn’t have bothered, anyhow. The clown kept on talking enough for the both of them.

“When I heard that loyalties were shifting around down there, I hadn’t thought it would be so dramatic. Oh, how far the illustrious Commander Mustang has fallen. I’m sure even the dreaded Lord of Apokolips would crack a smile at this turn of events… What a joke!” The clown’s words broke off into a peal of strange, twittering laughter. One silk-covered finger even reached up to swipe a few tears from Its eyes, the droplets seeming almost cartoonish as It flicked them away.

The boy shuffled his feet, growing steadily more uncomfortable and restless. Again, he held his tongue. It was pretty hard with a literal clown ragging on his Commander, but he managed it. Maybe he could slip away while this thing was distracted, take a look around…

Abruptly, Pennywise stood. Dewey snapped to attention, all thoughts of exploration instantly banished from his mind as the clown prowled toward him.

The clown came to stand before him. It towered above Dewey with little effort, Its ragged, dirty costume seeming even more unsettling in the dim lighting. A faint stench of death and decay hung in the air around the entity, tinged with the sugary-sweet smell of cotton candy, sugar floss, and funnel cake.

Struggling not to breathe in through his nose too much, the preteen duck tried to avoid making eye contact, staring firmly at the ruffles surrounding the clown’s neck.

Instead of biting his head off or anything, though, the clown merely… held something out to him. Blinking, Dewey refocused his eyes on the clown’s hands— and visibly startled.

Had the clown… always had that balloon?

His gaze turned upward. Pennywise’s face simpered down at him, that ridiculous buck-toothed grin stretching grotesquely across Its alien features. In the palm of Its hand was a sealed envelope, delicately tied off with the string of a bright red balloon.

“Here, my little feathered friend,” It said, blue eyes glittering. “Take it.”

And, quite reluctantly, Dewey did. His fingers brushed close to the clown’s as he grabbed the letter, an icy twinge of coldness seeping into his feathers from just the briefest hint of contact. He quickly drew his hand back, tucking the envelope close to his body to warm it.

Even though It was obviously pleased with his acceptance of Its gift, Pennywise continued to eye him for a moment, utterly unblinking. A shudder passed through the kid; It seemed to see straight through him, gaze piercing right down to the bone.

“But there’s something else, isn’t there…” the clown muttered, kneeling down to the kid’s level. It tapped Its chin, choreographing Its movements like It was performing for a children’s play and not an audience of one scared little messenger. “Something you’re looking for. Or... someone, kee-rect?”

Dewey hesitated, a flicker of hope warming his chest despite the cold dread that seemed to saturate the air around him. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

Somehow, the circus freak before him seemed even more delighted. “Mmhmmm, I thought so. Yes, yes, I did! And I’ll bet I know exactly who you’re looking for.”

“Y-you… you do?” Dewey asked.

“Of course!” It straightened up, already strolling away. “I know everything, see everything. Lucky you, I don’t believe in shooting the messenger, unlike some people. Plus, duck doesn’t suit my taste. Now, let’s see...”

The clown rounded the side of the throne It had been lounging across before. With the air of a magician plucking a rabbit out from a hat, It reached one white-gloved hand into the shadows behind the large chair. Giving an over-exaggerated frown of concentration, It withdrew Its arm from the dark space, revealing—

Dewey’s breath left him all in a rush. “Mom.”

The Unmade soldier Dark Duck will be escorting Dewey Duck back to Azula. Azula’s writer is free to write her as he pleases, but please keep in mind that she will remain loyal to the Unmade Carnaval. She can return whenever, I’m not picky.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Assassination Attempt!​

A literal nest of vipers.

A nest of seedy, lecherous vipers that haunt children’s nightmares. At the top, a trans dimensional creature that once ate children for sustenance after torturing and terrifying them to achieve that savory flavor.

The Wolfpac were no strangers to adversity. They had surviving struggles with the unmade beasts on the opposite end of the island, and the last few weeks had seen them run a loop of it, while the talking heads at the top of the army structure were swapped out like used-up pieces of machinery.

Rubra left her soldiers behind as she pressed up toward the apex of the tower. She knew that this story only had one ending. She may have been hurting, but she would make sure that they remembered her when they spoke about this little war. She wouldn’t be the ‘smol doggo trampled by big doggo’. No, she’d be the one who killed this fucking clown.

She slunk around what seemed to be the reanimated corpse of a gibbering madwoman with a stick and ascended a second stairwell. Bracing the door behind her to impede entry, she waited until she heard the gunshots and explosions ring out from the rest of the structure before she turned and charged up to the literal belly of the beast.

Leaping over the threshold, blades drawn and at the ready, Rubra Lupus scowled at the scene of fresh corpses. One in particular—half a teenage girl with a wide gap slashed in her throat—almost seemed to be smiling at the assassin.

“What’s so funny?” Lupus muttered as she looked away from the half-eaten corpse and stalked into the center of the room. “Come out! I know what you are, and I am not afraid.”

The chittering of many mandibles on the ceiling and walls behind her only steeled her resolve as the voice tried to taunt her. “Is that a dare?”

The Wolfpac, as they are ‘NWO 4 LIFE’, all of them fought and died (#26YearOldReferencesAreTheBestReferencesDon’tAtMeJaed)

180 assorted soldiers stationed at the tower were killed/will be killed in the floors below Pennywise.

Pennywise, you have 36 hours to post a response to this. I will then resolve this scene.

 

[Arthur Morgan]

Lupus whirled around, canine ears laid flat against her skull and a savage snarl curling her lip. Her knives glinted in her hands, brandished and at the ready, but it was already too late— in a whirlwind of motion, the clown was upon her.

The full weight of the creature slammed into her like a freight train, sending them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of clawing limbs and snapping teeth. Lupus’ head collided hard with the floor, her knives skittering into some distant corner of the shadowy chamber as they were flung from her grip. Dazed and fighting off a bout of nausea at the rancid sewer-smell leeching off from Pennywise’s antiquated costume, the wolf scarcely had time to react before the creature lashed out, intent on tasting Its prey.

A drooling, cavernous gullet lined with more teeth than she could count clamped down on her elbow, a dozen individual needle-points of agony lancing up her arm like a flare of white-hot electricity. Blood spilled from the fresh wound in a sticky fountain, splattering onto her face as the clown’s distended jaws began to jostle her about like a chew toy.

Fortunately, a proper assassin is always prepared; Lupus was no exception. Gritting her teeth against the pain screaming through her trapped arm, her free hand grasped for her pant leg, drawing out the blade hidden inside a clever slip of fabric. Dexterous fingers flipped the knife until the handle nestled snugly against the palm of her hand, perfectly balanced—

In a silvery flash, Lupus jammed it into the side of the clown’s frill-lined jugular. Her teeth bared in a feral grin as she felt her knuckles punch against the flesh of the creature’s throat with the force of her jab, sliding the blade home with a wet schink.

Pennywise screeched, reeling backward as bright, dazzling, horrifying pain jolted all throughout Its system. The sound of Its high-pitched, otherworldly roar echoed off the walls; surely it could be heard for miles around. Never before had It felt such terrible pain—!

Oh, but It had felt a similar pain, hadn’t It? Once upon a time, in a little house on Neibolt Street, there had been a fiery-haired girl with a sharpened piece of rebar… how could It have forgotten? And what It wouldn’t give to forget again!

It retreated swiftly, cowering and blubbering like a child; Lupus was quick to press her advantage. The call of the hunt sang in her veins—she had drawn blood, she could smell it—and if this monstrosity could bleed, she could most certainly kill It!

Springing deftly up onto the balls of her feet, the wolfish assassin stalked forward, eyes glistening like twin moons in the darkness. A new knife flashed into her hand, the flat metallic blade reflecting the suddenly terrified yellow of Pennywise’s own gaze.

Even as her arm oozed thick gouts of bright red blood onto the floor, even as she stumbled from the combined burden of her injuries, her desire for vengeance was not yet slaked. Her troops were all dying or dead down below, devoured by Its brood in the depths of Its nest— she wouldn’t let this disgusting clown get off that easy!

“No…” Pennywise whimpered, almost as if It sensed her thoughts. It persisted in crawling backward, and suddenly there were extra legs tearing out from the seams of Its costume, bristling with spikes of black chitin and scrabbling across the floor as It fought to escape her wrath. The clown’s painted face remained fixed on her, Its candy-red mouth pulled back into a grotesquely exaggerated grimace of terror. “NOnoNo! Not again!”

A dead-eyed stare met Its gaze head-on, not a single trace of mercy on Lupus’ face. Pennywise turned away, bracing Itself and chittering miserably—

All at once, something very strange happened. The terror that swirled in Its brain, Its own personal torment, so cold and uncomfortable and blindingly vibrant… stopped. Like the flick of a switch, or an old junker stalling in the middle of the freeway. In its place, something else came to the fore: burgeoning, writhing, swelling to fill the space inside Its inhuman skull.

A corruption so insidious, so inescapable that it had elicited fear in even the hardiest of Cevanti’s soldiers, the mightiest defenders of the Crossroads. The very same power that had scrubbed a million life-lights from the super-heated surface of Govermorne, devouring that world’s Arbiter and turning him into something undeniably, irreversibly Other.

Anti-Life. The Unmaking. Alpha, and Omega.

Darkseid.

The clown’s frown promptly flipped, turned upside down. Yes, that was right. Loneliness, alienation, despair, fear… These were all emotions It fed upon. And through Darkseid, hadn’t It been able to engender these feelings in all who dared cross the threshold of Its castle? Hadn’t the Unmaking created a perfect smorgasbord of meat for It to glut Itself upon, gods and kings and princesses alike?

Wasn’t this assassin’s defiance of IT, of the Unmaking, of Darkseid, a type of fear in and of itself?

Yes! Pennywise was sure of it. Staring up at the approaching Lupus, the fear slowly draining from Its face, It suddenly became certain that she was afraid. Convinced of it, in fact! It just hadn’t recognized the signs, or perhaps Its nose had dulled from eating Its way through those who came before her. Whatever the case, It would have her, this little hound and her ripe flesh. Yes, yes, It would...

Raised by wolves, this one! Vicious, It thought to Itself, the spines of Its true form rippling beneath the skin of the clown. She would make a wonderful addition to my menagerie.

Oblivious to the clown’s sudden change in mood, Lupus towered above the creature’s cowering, hunched form, readying her knife. As such, she was utterly blind-sided by the sudden attack that came from below.

One massive clawed appendage slammed into her face, knocking her backward with bruising force. The assassin smacked into the ground with a yelp, her hip and injured arm jarring painfully against the cold stone as she skipped like a pebble over the floor. She recovered quickly enough, rolling over onto her knees and up into a crouch, but not even the swiftest recovery time could have prepared her for the awful vision swimming right before her eyes.

The clown had grown to an impossibly large size, the red tufts of Its hair scraping against the ceiling and Its insectoid legs bracing against the walls of the chamber— which altogether seemed far, far too small all of a sudden. It had to be… ten feet tall, at best, but It was still jarring to witness such a sudden change in dimension. Gaping up at Its massive frame, Lupus could only stagger backward in shock, the knife in her grip threatening to drop from her numb fingers.

It leered down at her, a freakish orange light beaming out from Its eyes and wide, grinning maw like the glow of a jack o'lantern. A massive spider smiling down at the fly caught in Its web.

“Aw, what’s wrong, puppy?” It asked, voice a sibilant hiss. “You were so spirited just a moment ago! Where did that fire go, huh?”

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
Assassination Attempt (Pt2)​

Lupus always fumbled the knife.

In that instant, she became increasingly aware of her body and everything going on around her.

“No return,” she whispered, recalling that final conversation with Azula in the halls of Fortress Briggs. “Only one end for the hunted.”

The assassin rushed forward and threw herself at the monstrosity. Her knife aimed for the flesh of Its neck, but a hand crushed around her own. Even as her bones were shattered, Lupus steeled herself and lunged forward.

She got her mouth around the side of Pennywise’s throat and sank her all-too human teeth deep into the monster’s sickly flesh. Blood sputtered from the sides of her mouth and down into her throat as she attempted to literally chew her way through the side of It’s throat.

It was only after a half dozen stab wounds that Lupus’ grip waned, and the assassin was hurtled across the room.

Pennywise, blood still oozing and dribbling from the laceration, stalked over to the down Lupus. It hooked a foot under her prone form and rolled her only.

Lupus smiled faintly. Her gear had been torn away to reveal a vest of C4, and in her hands, a metal detonator.

“The Armada sends its regards.”

Rubra Lupus is dead.
Rubra Lupus used 1 application of Focus.

Pennywise suffered a Minor Injury.
Pennywise used 1 application of Focus to avoid the brunt of the scene-ending, lair-bursting explosives.

The uppermost floors of the Crimson Tower will need repairs over the next 48 hours.

 

[Jason Lee Scott]

An explosion with in the castle awakened her once more.

It had been ten long years of twisting, turning, and screaming into an empty eternity. Rita had been relieved to return to life, yet still failed to understand why.

She had been reborn, but with a new master and a new mission. She had worked to carry out his goals, but her defeated body had failed to recover as she matched with her troops. Her chosen lieutenants, a baseball bat wielding woman and an animated mascot that put her multicolored enemies to shame, had been forced to take over her army while she returned to the castle. There she had rested, suffering with her unhealed wounds from a battle so long ago. She didn’t understand why. Was she nothing more than a statement that no one, living or dead, in any number of realities was safe from the influence of Darkseid?

She refused to believe that was her only purpose.

Rita Repulsa shambled from the bed she rested in, and began to limp down the hallway of the castle. She heard the sounds of chaos all around here. There was screaming, shouting, and… clown horns? Whatever. Her allies were mobilized, rushing to various locations as they passed her limping form. They were an efficient, undead legion that followed orders to the letter. She had longed for such help once upon a time, and now they were a part of her forces. She could use them to catapult herself, and show her real might. The might of the Unmade.

The fight had not left Rita Repulsa yet.

 

[Karl Jak]

The golden king scowled at the sight of the smoldering tower.

Looking down at his feet, he kicked away the corpse of the unmade ghoul as he turned back to look at the detachment of soldiers with him. “They were so scared of us that they blew up their own castle and left behind these… pitiful wretches to die!” He shouted, eliciting a stream of steady ‘hoo-rahs’ from the men and women. “Simply be existing, our great empire has destroyed our enemies! That is the power we exert over this island!”