[NB] The Vault

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Karl Jak

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The forests are a little closer than the image above implies, with the approach to the pyramid itself only possible in one direction (it helps that said side is also the only one where the stairs are functional). A nearby village tells stories that the pyramid has always been present, but that no one dares to venture too close to it, because there are rumors of tribes in the forest that seem to materialize from thin air to assail would be tomb raiders. Other legends speak of even darker secrets housed within the temple at its apex.

Securing the Vault is one half of the victor's equation, but if an army can wrest control of this landmark, it is said to house powers beyond anyone's wildest dreams.
 

Karl Jak

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Siege Battle!
"The Dragon's Gaze" vs the (outer) Vault Guardians

With their weapons still dripping with the blood of the Hell Divers, the army of the Unmade Carnaval pressed on to its destination. At its helm, General Ripley strode triumphant toward the foundation of the pyramid that supposedly housed some great power within its depths.

A booming, British voice sliced across the tension as a lithe figure casually descended from the steps of the pyramid. “Who dares attempt to defile my land?”

The seemingly masculine figure’s chest, abdomen, and groin were covered in a dark-green armor that almost seemed molded to his body. The rest of his exposed skin was a lighter shade of green and marked with a variety of striations. Three clawed toes were matched by a trio of bladed ‘fingers’ as the man, with his bulbous and oversized cranium, turned his sinister red eyes upon the arrived masses.

A short-statured creature with a staff welded to its corrupted flesh stepped up to join General Ripley in glaring at the being that approached them. “Who are you?” Despite the garbled tones of its voice, Lieutenant Untotto’s speech patterns had a somewhat melodic candor to them, as if the horrifying corrupted monstrosity might suddenly start to talk in verse or haiku.

The green alien creature’s visage twisted into one of mock confusion as he glanced around at individuals that weren’t there, sharing his indigitation with them before turning his focus back to the military officer. “I am General Doctor Screamsicle II, Esq. If you plan to ascend this temple, you will have to destroy my army and I.”

“You and what army?”

Screamsicle II sneered as he lifted a clawed hand and impossibly managed to snap his bladed ‘fingers’. “The vilest and most villainous creature Mr. Jak could think of.”

As the army of unmade monsters watched, a grinning, bearded man with hair way worse than Karl Jak popped into existence at the base of the stairs. Decked out in some type of yellow body suit paired with some padded armors and some strange tech around his upper arms, the sinister figure snapped a finger and pointed at General Ridley.

“Hi, I’m Mirage, and I’m the worst.”

Then, suddenly, over two hundred more Mirages popped into existence all around the base of the pyramid—all of them sporting that same doofy yet supremely villainous smirk.

“Destroy them!” Screamsicle II roared as he leashed a blast of ki at General Ridley.

You are now fighting General Doctor Screamsicle II, Esq. He’s like the original, only adult-sized and having gone through graduate school. Nothing else is obviously different. He has all the usual DBZ powers you’d expect a saibaman to have, along with a brilliant brain (I mean, it’s ginormous, why wouldn’t these things be smart?)

He is joined by 250 Soldiers, evenly-ish split among the three classes. All of those soldiers are Mirage (or, y’know, Mirage as Karl interprets him). All of them are equipped with Mirage’s standard kit of holographic technology, so you can imagine that the 250 will often look like … more than that.

Have fun!

Weiss, you have two posts for this fight. You are free to post from whatever perspective you desire (Ridley, one of his lieutenants, some soldiers). You may also give up a second post to your Commander (to write as an NPC).

Either way, once those two posts are in, I’ll resolve this scene.
 
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Spirits of Vengeance
As the vibrant blast of ki hurled at Ridley’s face, the pint-sized imp standing at his side simply raised her mangled arm in answer. The Stardust Rod fused with her flesh sizzled and hissed, swirling with dark magicks as a pane of glimmering magic manifested in a protective curve before her General—

PHOOM! The flaming ki-ball struck the magical barrier with enough force to send a shockwave rattling through the air, dissipating in a sparkling firework of cast-off energy. An outraged shriek left Screamsicle’s throat at the sight, the audience of Mirages ooh-ing and aah-ing as the pretty lightshow slowly flickered and faded into nothing.

With a light tsk under her breath, Untotto stepped forward, the mangy, hulking form of the Red Dog padding over to join her. She leapt onto the massive hellhound’s back with startling ease, spinning around to face the troops a moment later.

Our efforts to take this temple will not be in vain!the tarutaru sing-songed, her demonic little face splitting into a wide, fanged grin. Her painfully fused staff-limb gestured with a dramatic flourish toward their foes, flaring with a miasma of violet energy. Do not stop until every last one of them is slain!

And with that, a savage roar rippled across the Unmade horde like a tidal wave of sound, hundreds of twisted soldiers swarming the steps of the pyramid in a dark flood. Not unlike a flock of crows descending upon a single, stray scrap of flesh, they clambered over and fought against one another to reach their prey, jaws slavering and fiendish weaponry brought to the fore.

The temple’s guardians responded in kind, a hail of fiery gunfire crackling in the air and tearing through the Unmade forces. Several Mirages crouched down at the top of the temple steps, offering suppressive fire from above, while others hurled down the mighty pyramid steps at full-tilt, an innumerable number of clones flashing into existence all around, practically dancing in circles around the invading army. What had appeared to be only a few hundred or so Mirages became at least twice that number, though many of the illusory clones were swiftly shredded into glittering fractals of light by the Unmade.

Red Dog bounded right into the thick of it, a veritable crimson blur as his massive paws tore over the ground. Untotto just barely managed to hang on by the furry scruff of his neck, bouncing with every lurching step, but her other arm lifted high— an almost mischievous twinkle in her eyes as the Stardust Rod began to gleam brighter, a sizzling, purple inferno flickering to life all along its length.

A hearty, vengeful cackle rang out as Untotto slung spell after spell at every Mirage clone she could. Bursts of acid, eliciting a chorus of agonized screams whenever they struck a fleshy target! Jets of glistening water, slicing through the air with enough force to cut through steel and bone alike! And her favorite, fire— a controlled torrent of flame exploding from the Stardust Rod in a conflagration of hellish red, eating away at the enemy’s numbers.

Red Dog, too, snapped and snarled as he began to ascend the temple stairs, knocking any who stood in his way aside with a swipe of one of his massive paws. More than one Mirage clone went spinning down the steps, screaming as they tripped and fell from such a great height, only to be completely devoured by the mass of writhing Unmade at the base of the pyramid, the gratifying sound of their tormented cries swallowed up by the horde.

It was horrific. It was chaotic. It was the most beautiful thing the tarutaru had ever seen, but to tell the truth, she was getting a little bored riding around on Red’s back. So, when Red paused to pin a Mirage or two on the ground and tear into them with his teeth, Untotto gracefully dismounted— landing about midway up the pyramid steps in a swirl of purple flame.

From the nearest Mirage came a barrage of gunfire, pinging off the hard stone next to her and sending shards of shrapnel flying up into the air. Untotto smirked, slinging her trusty acid-spell at his face, and watched with great pleasure as the man dropped to the ground, clutching at his face and screaming.

Ohohoho!” Untotto chortled, strutting toward him with a bit of swagger in her step. The Stardust Rod fused with her flesh lit up with a mean purple glow, embers of evil flaking off like so much ash.Look at you; why so blue? Could it be that you’ve realized your demise, taking on an army of this size?

The Mirage scrambled backward, still grasping wretchedly at his face and gasping through the pain, but he did pause to look at her. His fingers peeled away with an uncomfortably crispy crackle, a grimace worming its way across his face as scraps of burnt flesh stuck to his hand. He looked first at his hand, then the steadily advancing mage, and again at his hand.

Mirage sighed loudly, arm dropping to his side. Hidden from the impish mage’s gaze, his hand caaaarefully reached for the pistol strapped to his hip...

“Aww man, you ruined my face! I always say not the face, and look at what you did! You hit the face!” he complained, gesticulating at his ruined features for extra emphasis.

Untotto feigned interest as she leaned forward, peering closely at his face with her eerie crimson eyes. After a moment, she snapped the fingers of her one functional hand, a sadistic grin blooming across her mousy little cheeks.

I have just the fix,she purred, her staff-limb jutting straight towards his face. The remnants of the Stardust Rod began to flare brightly once more, a sickly green stream of acid beginning to drizzle from the tip. You’ll be symmetrical again with these simple tricks!

“No!” Mirage exclaimed, eyes widening. The hand that had managed to fumble for his gun while the black mage was distracted swung ‘round, the barrel of the Wingman leveled straight at her head—

But it was too late. A bubble of acid exploded from the rod embedded in Untotto’s arm, splashing over the man’s skull with a gnarly hiss and sending his pistol clattering to the ground. His screams echoed across the rainforest for a solid minute... eventually dying down into a series of incomprehensible gurgles, gags, and weak, fleshy burbling sounds.

Untotto turned, a satisfied smile curving her lips.

Much better, much better… the tarutaru murmured, gaze roving around to take in the battleground in its entirety. Her eyes lit up a moment later, fixing on a specific point— a large, winged shape, slowly but steadily clawing his way to the top of the pyramid.

Ridley had made his move.
 

Ridley

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Talons cracked into the stone of the temple stairs. The dragon’s ascent was quick enough, keeping his head forward. For most creatures, this would imply a focus and determination, a tunnel vision to his goal. Ridley, however, had eyes fit more to an avian’s, despite their reptilian hunger.

To either side, he could see the devastation done by his lieutenants. He saw the mammalian fake that smelled of electronics and hair gel move forward, assault rifles of unknown make firing back.

A choking belch erupted across the battlefield as one of his men scrabbled forward, clown adornments on its powered armour. The Gauss rifle in its hands sang fire as organic spikes left its mechanical barrel. A fusion of superior genetics and enough tech could even make an ordinary human worth more than fodder in a fight, the Dragon saw.

The mirages ducked for cover, hiding behind an earthen ridge in the jungle. This merely played into the aberration’s hands, as its body bloated up. The CmC-300 armour distorted as the creature’s stomach expanded, and as the tubing left the soldiers throat, a ripple flew throughout its body, before a stream of bile was released.

“Oh fuck no-
“-No, my hair is too-”
“I’m too cool for this-”

All complaints were silenced as the acid arced around the barrier. The Mirages fell even as the infested creature sagged, collapsing like a deflated toy. It would recover in time, of course, so the other members of the army paid it no mind.it would recover, or it would lay there to dribble.

Ridley’s army continued forward in an inexorable press, though. Some weapons looked absolutely comical, ranging from simple clubs, while others tended towards boar spears to hold their enemies in place, impaling them and enjoying every last, sweet second of the Mirage copies’ change from smug mockery to abject terror. Ridley had no idea what reason a holographic life-form had for needing to feel pain, but he relished the design choice.

To his other side, his lieutenants worked in concert, magic and mayhem following as the army bore down. Missiles were fired by horrifying creatures, unleashing cancerous growths with a mind of their own that were quick to jump on and devour any unfortunate soul that grew too close. Other weapons fired needle spines, and in some cases even Ridley’s eyes flashed to a crab-like creature below him, the freak of nature holding its foe in place with claws as long as a man’s arm and twice as wide, and then unleashing a vaporizing blast of blackened energy that left no trace of the man.

It left a nostalgic feeling in Ridley’s mind. Space pirate. The thought brought ties back from long ago, and a feeling of fury and rebellion briefly lit in Ridley’s mind, but this time the Dragon forced it down. No, it would not do to fight itself at this venture.

It was here only to win. To crush its opposition.

The reptilian stood straight up on top of the temple, looking directly into Screamsicle II’s eyes as he strode forward, meeting the general at the top of the temple.

Cut off the head…

In response, Screamsicle II gave a nasty grin.

Five new holographic Mirages shimmered into view, all of them arrayed in a circle around the pirate king.

“Alright, later gator,” one of them quipped, causing the rest to give their own identical, slightly off-tempo chuckles. Ridley recognized the design enough to know they were bearing some sort of missile launchers, and recognized the distance enough to know this fool had made a critical mistake.

Before a shot could be fired, Ridley sprang into action, turning in place with a vivid grin as he lashed out with his tail. The deadly weapon drew a crescent arc as the bladed tail left five headless bodies stumbling around and falling over before they returned to shapeless light.

”Predictable and ugly. Good combination.”, the head Saibaman taunted, before unleashing a massive fireball of yellow ki straight for the space pirate.

A normal creature would’ve had the sense to dodge away. Ridley merely threw himself forward, leaving a hole a foot deep in the stone temple as he launched himself forward, just dodging above the wave by centimeters, and in an instant the distance between the two was cleared.

Screamsicle was quick on his feet, though, and Ridley’s teeth gnashed together as he bit down on an after-image. The alien was quick on his feet and threw a pair of blasts from the space dragon’s right. The beast simply batted the two shots away, ignoring the burning, smoking sensaiton of his hand, and responded by going on all fours, letting a primal roar ring out through the jungle, and flinging his tail forward like a whip.

The saibaman was forced to be quick on his feet as the deadly weapon whipped out, leaving a trail of destroyed stone and vines in tis wake. The Saibaman was left off-balance and on-guard, just enough to realize that it wasn’t just being harried - it was being lead into a trap! An instant before it would have been ensnared, Screamsicle jumped as high as he coild in the air and avoided being grabbed and crushed in the monsters insidious grip.

This, too, was part of Ridley’s calculations, and for the first time, the Saibaman saw a cold smile as the dragon opened its maw and belched a torrent of plasma spheres.

The plasma was swiftly deflected with ki blasts of Screamsicle’s own, with the only damage being to the cabbage heads stamina, but it stood confidently in the smoke screen of the attack, certain that the unmade general would be easy to catch off-guard in the smoke.

Of course..

The reptile gave a smile, as the rest of his entourage arrived. Former hell-divers, their red eyes and uneven walk gave away the possessed nature of their new form.

He was general Ridley after all. he didn't need to take this battle alone.

The unmade helldivers took their new weapons, shotguns that pulsated with a red glow, and fired into the smoke.
 

Karl Jak

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Face to Face
"The Dragon's Gaze" vs the Temple Defenders

Ridley closed his hands around the green alien’s throat and contemplated biting its head off to put a punctuation mark on this victory. Down around the base of the temple, the fighting had worn down, with the last of the grinning, replicating idiots torn to pieces and devoured by pair of wendigos.

Although the temple was seemingly won, the dragon knew that there was a more useful fate for this creature. “You will serve,” Ridley rasped as he threw the battered form of the saibaman down the temple stairs. The unmade thralls swarmed Screamsicle, who could offer only the feeblest of resistance as he was dragged away to the Carnaval’s equivalent of a ‘camp.’

With the pyramid’s temple laid out for the taking, the dragon triumphantly marched beneath the massive archway and down the poorly illuminated stairway. As it approached, a pair of heavy stone doors parted at the base of the stairs, and once over that threshold, Ridley was momentarily bathed in darkness as the heavy stone bulwark smashed shut behind him.

Chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh.

The dragon snorted, releasing a small puff of plasma that bathed the large subterranean chamber in a momentary flash of light that revealed no sign of life in clear sight. That said, that flash of light had shown a variety of pillars that filled the room, which no doubt meant that th—a.

A machete jammed through the dragon’s abdomen as recessed torches sprung to life around the enormous stone room and within nearly all of the support pillars.

Grinning as only a space dragon with a high tolerance for pain could grin, Ridley lurched forward, off from the machete. After taking a few steps, the dragon turned around and glared at the eight-foot metal monstrosity. For a moment, Ridley felt the slightest twinge of unease as he caught the fiery red eyes that seemed to burn with fury behind the metal plating that covered the creature’s seemingly malformed visage.

“Temple guardian?” The dragon replied as the lights suddenly flickered, bathing Ridley in a moment of darkness.

When the lights returned, the hulking monster with the machete had disappeared.

Chh chh chh … ahh ahh ahh …


@Weiss Schnee , you have exactly 24 hours to reply to this writing prompt.

You are fighting Über Jason.

Ridley has entered the challenge area, which has sealed behind him. His forces will hold the position in the meantime, under the leadership of his lieutenants.

“The Dragon’s Gaze” suffered 200 casualties in the fighting outside the Vault.
All the ‘Mirages’ are dead (were they ever really alive?)1

Screamsicle II can be executed, kept prisoner, or unmade.

"Dragon's Gaze" Morale has increased by +75% for capturing the Vault.

1. According to section 9, sub-section 10, paragraph 9 of the standard Syntech participation contract, the answer is no, Mirages are not classified as being alive.
 
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The dragon’s frame trembled with energy, shivers rippling through his frame as he slowly turned his orange, glowing eyes from one side of the chamber to another, inspecting every inch. It was in vain; there was no flash of light to give away Jason’s position, no footsteps to reveal his clever hiding place, no scraping of metal on stone. Nothing.

Ridley’s tail lashed from side to side as the xenomorph’s eyes swept the area. The smell of rotted, soaked flesh fused with metal was pungent, filling the dark, dusty chamber.

The silence seemed to echo for an eternity, only broken by the soft, slow sounds of Ridley’s tail whistling through the air and the ever present breathing of the old lizard.

A second passed. Then another. A third.

Ridley heard it just an instant before the blow came.

The soft hum of electronics, and a drop of water striking the floor.

Jason struck from behind the drake, but Ridley was ready this time— his tail blade slapped the heavy blade away, the missed strike of the cyborg’s machete embedding itself into the stone.

The flames of the archway leapt up, and Ridley unleashed a violent scream of primal challenge. A slicing claw drew a thin trail across the cyborg’s torso, but to Ridley’s immense displeasure, no blood came came bubbling to the surface. Jason simply grabbed the reptile’s arm, his powerful grip digging directly into the surprised pirate’s flesh.

Pulling the dragon’s limb sideways, the psychopath slammed the space pirate’s arm to the floor and nailed it there with his foot.

Ridley gave a scream of indignation that changed to a shriek of pain as the cyborg dragged a bloody cut across Ridley’s wrist with his blade. Pain struck through Ridley’s eyes, briefly, and for a moment the Unmade general felt pressured. Surprised. Out of his element.

The red that streaked through the orange of the former pirate commander’s eyes drowned it out in an instant. Ridley snapped his beak forward and crushed the giant’s torso between his crocodilian maw. The beast shook its head from side to side with Jason’s body in tow, struggling against the metal, before throwing it with all the ferocity of an angered dog with a chew toy.

The implacable slasher struck a nearby pillar, breaking the stone, and the creature seemed to actually have trouble moving for a moment, slumping a little.

Then, the lights turned off, and Ridley found himself struck back into a world of darkness.

The massive xeno inspected its injured arm, pulling it back with a groan of pain. This creature was strong. It was smart. It hunted Ridley as he hunted it. A cybernetic abomination. And it had drawn a steady trail of orange blood.

The flames lit again, and Ridley found himself staring directly at a hockey mask.

He struck quickly, tracing a line across the pirate general’s face from just below his eye through past the lower jaw. Thin, but firm.

The dragon hissed its outrage and struck, clawing wildly for his opponent’s heart. Jason’s response was simply to charge through Ridley’s guard, smash his shoulder directly into the dinosaurian tyrant, and smash him to the ground. The pirates arms came out to claw out the cyborg’s narrow throat as the general spat a feral growl at his opponent.

Jason’s new tactic was to smash his legs into Ridley’s chest hard enough to knock the wind from his body. And then do it again. Then a third time. Ridley’s eyes burned with rage and his maw burned with fire, but both were smothered by Jason’s oversized boot, as the serial killer put all his weight on the lizard’s windpipe.

The dragon choked, eyes bulging in frustration and hatred at this disgusting, vile mammal. He would not die here. Not to this.

A small screech broke up the thought, as the sound of small paws skittered past Ridleys earholes. The monkey! How long had it been down here? Had it just woken up? Whatever the case, it struck like greased lightning, little paws striking with razor sharp cymbals of rusted steel and cutting into Jason’s legs.

The cyborg’s response was, of course, simply to kick the little creature as hard as he could, and the monkey went skidding across the floor. The little Clownish primate gave a soft coo, before crumpling, dead, dying, or simply unable to maintain consciousness.

Jason turned back from his distraction to finish Ridley off with a single beheading chop, only for a wicked grin to be plastered on the predator’s face.

Vermin.

A blade carved its way through the cyborg’s stomach, as Ridley’s grin grew broader. His serrated tail flashed in the darkness, glittering with dark blood. The flexible appendage drew itself back, forcing the cyborg off his opponent inch by inch.

Coward.

Ridley pulled himself back up to his standing hunch even as Jason was forced off him.

Food.

The xenomorph’s glare grew venomous, as the smile changed to rage and crocodile jaws snapped for the rebuilt killer’s head.

The lights went out, an instant before Ridley could see where the stalker went, and the dragon gave a smile.

Plasma fire rang out through the halls, spewing at Ridley’s feet from between his flaming jaws, and Jason was revealed.

The dragon struck quickly, pushing his full weight forward in an instant. Jason swung with his machete, but Ridley caught the blade in his talons, and shoulder checked the giant hard enough to slam him to the floor.

The plasma light disappeared, and Jason with it. Unleashing another burst, Ridley quickly found his target’s new position and pressed the advantage, pursuing without hesitation. Jason’s machete stabbed for the Dragon’s chest, but Ridley bit down hard on the improbably durable metal, pushing him back tooth-to-sword, before finally slashing his talons across the drowned psychopath’s torso.

Face me!” Ridley roared.

Once more, the flames from the plasma extinguished, but even as Jason’s body disappeared, the flaming torches around the pair grew red hot in intensity.

“Hehehehe…. Hahahahaha!” Ridley cackled.

In front of him, Jason stood, implacable as ever, and the space pirate enforcer was quick to assault once again, striking with all the force of an animal possessed. The dragon’s talons were quick, and Jason was no swordsman, but nicks and cuts appeared across Ridley’s body all the same. Orange blood spewed from the Unmade general’s body, but he paid it no mind— Jason’s killer strikes were reduced to wild hacking, striking with force and speed with no thought for finesse or position.

Even so, the wild blows found their way onto Ridley’s body despite the dragon’s efforts. Talons dug into skin and left brutal marks and dents against metallic replacements, bladed tail-strikes deftly parried the worst of the cenobites' worst attacks, and no laceration was taken without another three given in response. The flames burned strong as the two killers danced, all room for subtlety in either fighter’s mind gone as they lost themselves in the primal fury of senseless slaughter.

Ridley’s grin grew broad as the strikes continued, and the dragon gave one last thought to its durable foe, before fire erupted like a match in the drake’s maw, and he belched hot death into his foe’s face, an eruption of flame that threatened to engulf the man whole.
 

Karl Jak

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Even as the lights flickered, the room never went dark, given the deluge of flames that poured from the space pirate’s maw.

When Ridley finally stopped, the dragon immediately withdrew a few paces to wait for the retaliatory strike from his monstrous foe. There was no sign of a flame-broiled corpse on the ground, and while the air was strong with the delicious stench of rotting flesh, the tomb’s guardian was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, a panel in the center of the grand room split apart as an altar emerged through the floor. Ridley approached, his eyes scanning his surroundings with a faint degree of paranoia as he approached the orb. Despite never having seen such an artifact, the dragon already knew what its purpose was, and he bore a predatory grin as the gates of the Vault opened for him.

Emerging from the Vault, Ridley hurtled the orb down the temple stairs, and with a thunderous boom, its primal magics washed over his assembled army.

Ridley has suffered two Minor Injuries from generally being stabbed and battered.

Über Jason has seemingly been defeated (?)

Unmade Carnaval claim the Vault, and Ridley’s Army will gain an unknown (to people who are’t Ridley, who will decide) ‘Boon’.

The Vault will close behind Ridley and remain closed until the square changes hands.
 

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Siege Battle!

General Ripley knew they were coming, and the space pirate did not fear their advance.

The veritable waves of 'blue' soldiers and mass of green troops could gladly throw themselves upon the Vault. Ridley would make them bleed for every square inch of the imposing structure, which had been adorned with spikes and a collection of still-decaying corpses.

"Ready the guns," Ridley roared as the Artillery troops stationed along the summit of the vault pushed their field guns into position and rain hellfire down onto the amassed armies.

Diving to avoid a shell, Wraith lifted her head and scowled. "When did they fucking get cannons?"

Sneering, Ridley waved his hands and released his Assault troops on the unified armies.


Battle Statistics!

Unmade Carnaval: 1600 Combat Soldiers, Vault Advantage
Hell Divers: 896 Combat Soldiers
Miniskirt Armada: 3139 Combat Soldiers

Notes: The Vault has no outer lying walls, so the fighting takes place up and alongside the pyramid structures (and on the ground around it). Attackers will naturally have the low ground from the start. This fight, given the PCs involved, will roughly take at least 2 days, and I expect all PCs to post at least once in that timeframe. More posts are allowed. If you are including an NPC or PC that isn’t yours, make sure you coordinate with the other army.

The Vault
Defenders = “The Dragon’s Gaze”

"The Dragon’s Gaze"
General-> Ridley
Lieutenant(s) -> Untotto, Red Dog, Screamsicle II (All NPCs)
1600 Combat Soldiers

Vs

“The Firewall”
General: Roy Mustang
Lieutenants: Violet (NPC), Mirage
Soldiers: Izaneus, Deadpool (NPC)
1800 Combat Soldiers

“Teen Spirit”
Lieutenants: Nico, Elise
450 Combat Soldiers

“The King’s Men”
General: Gilgamesh (NPC)
Lieutenant: Gamzee (NPC)
700 Combat Soldiers

+

“The Pale Rider”
General-> Wraith
Lieutenant(s) -> PJ (NPC)
896 Combat Soldiers
 

Elise

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Finally, Mustang could have something to feel gratified about. It had been a simple order, and the tactics of the siege were sound enough. The quiescent Commander had also wisely given the King of Heroes a fairly long leash regarding his preferred tactics and approach to the asteroid temple's outer grounds. Gilgamesh grinned to himself as he and his forces formed a column directly down the center, storming resolutely towards the vaulted steps of this ancient facsimile.

The irony, of course, is that Gilgamesh had been planning on doing this anyway. Mustang and his erstwhile helpers were but a welcome asset to his goals. Sunlight gleamed off of his gilded armor as his loyal servant bore him forwards atop an improvised litter. A fusillade of incoming fire arced high over the hastily assembled, jagged fortifications and trenches cut into the lawn of the complex, but a constant stream of explosive lances, swords, spears and axes conjured by his holy Gates kept the worst of the barrage at bay. The temple and the grounds had been inexcusably polluted with, black iron crenulations, dripping with the sugary, red ichor of clown monsters...but very few of the mongrels dared to leave their safe havens.

The King crossed his arms and sniffed with disdain. Nothing was more pitiful than an enemy too craven to meet on the field of battle.

"See how they cling to my temple like so many corpulent ticks! See how they tremble at the King's approach!" Gilgamesh roared over the din. A swarm of rattling, winged skulls screamed towards the militant procession, and a river of royal steel rocketed forth to meet them. All around him, loyal warriors screamed, died, and fired their clattering firearms. The amount of firepower pouring out of the temple was, in a word, obscene. Someone, however, had to lead the charge, and no one in the Crossroads was more fitting than he.

"With me, noble sons and daughters! Stay with your king, and we will gain the temple in one crushing stroke!" Gilgamesh bellowed. He pulled a gleaming blade from the glittering ether and cast it forwards, just as an immense, roiling ball of flames exploded in the field in front of them. The forward-most servants carrying the litter fell, dead or injured. It mattered not. The King disdainfully dismounted from his royal transport and trod upon the earth like the mortals around him.

"Overrun the fortifications! Take them for yourselves! The glory is ripe, and ours to claim!"

A lightning bolt thundered past his left ear, killing several soldiers behind him and leaving a blackened singe along his pauldron. The King staggered for a moment and glared towards the top of the temple, where Ridley and his Lieutenants were no doubt lurking in the shadows. Whoever was slinging these spells was going to have to learn the hard way that Gilgamesh was a legend for a reason.

A torrent of razor tipped icicles sprayed from the pinnacle of the pyramid. Gilgamesh waited, extended his hand, and snapped.

The icicles dissipated. The King yearned to see the look of shock on this unseen wizard's face as their magic was counter-spelled so deftly.

"Elise! Draw out the caster and slay them!" Gilgamesh called into the radio crudely strapped to his gauntlet.

...

It was a beautiful day. Not the kind of day suitable for all out, demonic warfare. The clouds were piled into half-tone stacks of billowing cotton, dramatically spilling across a lapis sky. The sunlight spilled down from directly overhead, giving the rain forest a glittering, prismatic affectation. Dangling bromeliads and a hundred varietals of orchid quivered with each distant salvo of artillery. It was the kind of day Elise dreamed about when she was stuck in her crypt. Idyllic...sunny...bucolic. The kind of days she had missed when she was consigned to walk the night.

Instead, she was hunched down behind a log with a pair of binoculars, watching Gilgamesh's bold, singular advance directly into the Unmade kill zone. It was impossible to see the forward line of the King's Men behind the boiling, flashing cloud of debris and smoke. Angry rivers of gunfire interlaced with one another from the temple to the central charge, forming a chain of carnage she preferred not to contemplate.

The detachment she had commanded with Nico had flanked around to the South, and were waiting inside the treeline for a signal. The rockstar hellion sat next to her, poking and prodding at what passed for mashed potatoes from an MRE.

"Damn, that boy don't quit." Elise murmured under her breath. She was able to see the arrogant bastard topple off of some stupid platform before another volley of acid fire obscured their advance.

"Gilgamesh parties hard." Nico said through a full mouth. All around them, members of the Teen Spirit brigade checked their weapons and milled around behind cover. There was a rustle behind them, and Elise suddenly felt the presence of Gamzee Makara. She put her binoculars down and wheeled around to leer at him.

"Aren't you...supposed to be over there?" she said, gesturing towards the thundering cacophony. The clown simply gave a honk and a shrug.

"Found some toppings for that nasty-ass grunt slop, bro." Gamzee growled, plopping down next to Nico. The clown pulled some shredded, green plant matter out of his pocket and sprinkled it on top of the ration. Nico stared at it for a moment.

"Cool. It's like a...spice or herb or whatever?" Nico said with a raised eyebrow.

"What? Naw, 'sjust some green shit I pulled off a tree. What y'all doin?" he smiled. Nico blinked, tried a bite of the...moss...and abruptly tossed the plastic meal tray aside.

"Waiting for orders." Nico grumbled. He had conjured The Red Chord, and the crimson electric guitar sat next to him, aching to be shredded.

"I'll take a slime pie!"

"Shut the fuck up, Gamz."

Honk.

As if on cue, the radio over on a nearby stump crackled with a new report. It was King Bastard on the horn.

"Elise, draw out the caster and slay them!" he roared before being cut off by a burst of static. Elise raised her eyebrows and looked around their position. Everyone had heard the order, and were now looking at her. Oh shit. This had been easy when it had just been a hike through the rainforest. Now these people were looking at her and the idiot next to her to guide them through hell and back.

"Um...alright. Form up and spread the word!" Elise hollered, standing tall and brushing off her armored, blue battle gear. "Infantry and Support move out to the edge of the treeline and start getting their attention! Stay in cover, keep it long range!" she shouted. This all sounded pretty good, of course, but she was only parroting the second-hand orders that Mustang had given her detachment for this engagement.

"Oh and...uh..." Nico started, also standing up and slinging the guitar around his waist, "...snipers stay back with Elise and pick off clowns that are returning fire on...y'know...us. Today, we fight like bitches!" Nico whooped, before being slapped in the chest by the vampire.

"Watch ya mouth. Let's get to it! Spread out and move up! The word of the day is 'gunline'! Let's go!" Elise said, clapping rapidly. That last bit sounded a little bit like a daycare teacher, but the troops complied regardless. She patted Nico and Gamzee on their shoulders with a fanged grin.

"Have fun jamming, you idiots. I'm gonna kill me a wizard." she said with audible relish. Trying to out-guff Gilgamesh had proven to be a disappointing exercise in futility for the past week. There was no way she was going to pass up on a chance to merc some half-brained Unmade spellcaster. Wizardry was her gimmick...

...although she couldn't help thinking that there had to be a contingency that was gonna fuck them up. I mean. They couldn't all be cooped up in that stupid pyramid right?

"Backline. Remember to look behind you every so often."
 

Izaneus Phortea

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Amazement.

This singular expression was plastered upon Izaneus's face as he looked out upon the battlefield he too now fought on. His allies were decimating their opponents with a variety of styles. Technologies... Powers.

It was here Iza felt a shift in the air around him. Converging, whipping. Thrashing about until-

CRASH
Iza's eyes widened as the explosion responded across the field. The heat.. He could feel it from where he stood. The blaze glowed brightly, his eyes fixated on it

The progenitor was none other than his commander. Barking the occasional order. Keeping his soldiers, determined, playing the battlefield as though it were a simple game of chess.

That same commander had given him advice what felt like years ago, now had a fierceness in his eyes, and a wrath in his voice that Iza felt could fell any demon before he laid a hand on them.

Iza turned back to the siege. And took one deep breath.

With a wave of his hand, three dangerous bolts of magic swayed around him, with one more. They shot off toward three unmade soldiers, piercing their hide in a brutish display of magical precision

Iza kept this routine going. Launching his magic missiles in groups of three, and felling soldiers in groups of three just the same.

Occasionally he threw a mote of fire, in an attempt to both understand battle and the element as mustang had taught him.

His only thought, was to be glad fighting among the good people he had met during this event.
 

Nico Cinder

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"Fire!"

He would never get tired of that. One thing Nico was very good at was screaming. Thankfully, there was plenty of it to be had in the middle of battle. The kathunk, kaboom, kachunk of an artillery line had a nifty rhythm to it that the musician found immensely satisfying, but as it stood, this was perhaps the dullest, easiest round of Call of Duty Zombies he'd ever played. Nico would've found their gorecore aesthetic more unsettling, if they weren't way the fuck over there and so very easy to explode. God, were those things hideous though, and they damn sure didn't want you to forget it. Every time a shell would explode right in the middle of a cluster of those fucks, most would disappear in a cloud of red mist. It was as if all their excess flesh was begging to be disintegrated, a weight lifted off the shoulders of the corrupted. Some though, would be far enough away from the initial point of impact to only lose a limb or two to the shrapnel. Chunks of meat ripped off the bone. But the forces of the damned wouldn't be stopped by something as measly as a battlefield amputation, no. More than once, the lieutenant and his soldiers grimaced and swore at the sight of these injured creatures picking up random body parts separated from their original owners and...claiming them, no matter the army they belonged to.

"Sir?" Grunt #117 called back after firing off another round. He had a name, probably. Nico didn't know it, but the number painted in blue on the back of his armor made him grin. "Permission to swap payloads?"

"I thought you'd never ask, soldier!" Nico hollered back. "Dealer's choice! Have your pick of the litter!" The rockstar strode back behind the row of mortars and clasped the eager man on the shoulder, who had already pulled a shell out of the pile behind him. Glancing down at his soldier's choice, Nico laughed a little harder than he meant to. It was smaller than a normal shell, with a glowing purple core. This guy had good taste, and while he wanted to know his comrade's name, he wasn't the one who needed to be worried about it. He had a marker in his satchel for just such an occasion, which he handed to the man.

"Write your name on this one, dude. Let 'em know who started the storm that sends them to hell." Nico turned to the rest of the firing line as his new friend did just that. "Alright you lot, that's enough hellfire! Let's give those ugly bastards something else to scream about. Tesla payloads, all of you! Shove some lightning down their throats! I want those fuckers cooked from the inside out!" A chorus of approving shouts followed.

Nico took to this "giving orders" thing far easier than he would've expected for a young punk like himself just making it up as he goes. There was something about the push and pull of giving and receiving orders that he felt very comfortable in when surrounded by a battle of this scope. With all the chaos before them, it was something that you could count on, something to be grateful and appreciative for from both ends. One of many, he supposed.

"FIIIIRE!"

And the guns, how they sing. Their voices ripple down the line in a cascade that began with that same soldier, 117. Bright, white hot flashes of plasma, or electricity, or whatever the fuck was in those little metal canisters of death laced through the temple proper. Lightning bright enough to cast shadows in broad daylight danced in the glass of Nico's eyes, and he couldn't help but cackle. His troops were already prepping for another salvo. By the looks of things at the base of the temple, the Armada was gonna need it, and then some. A big ass red dog thing was tearing a bloody zigzag down the front lawn.

"Looks like Clifford the Big Red Stab Wound wants to play," Lieutenant Cinder whispered to himself. With as much noise as they were making, it was only a matter of time before his detachment would have to pack up and either push forward behind the infantry to give them support, or find somewhere else to set up shop. A few more rounds, and he'd send the order, along with a notice over comms.

Hey...where's Gamzee?
 

Roy Mustang

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From the opening volley, Mustang issued no commands. Lieutenant Uzumaki knew the battle plan they had outlined; she would carry it out. With Gilgamesh’s army and the contingent of helldivers they would storm three fronts of the pyramid at once, force the enemy to divide their attention. That was their job. Mustang’s was to fulfill his role as a state alchemist. To regress years back, once more become the Hero of Ishval. The human weapon.

*Snap*

A cluster of putrid beings erupted into flames. Mustang didn’t even wait for them to stop burning to assess the location, he had already set his sights on the next target. A hard point from which Unmade horrors belched forth acid at their approaching troops. The barricade was layered, stone upon wood, menacing with spikes. Immaterial.

*Snap*

With a resounding boom, the barrier shattered into burning fragments before the power of flame alchemy. Armada soldiers pressed into the gap, bayonets and firearms quickly butchering the surviving Unmade crew within. He turned his focus away again, searching for his next target with an icy focus. The tell-tale whine of approaching shells drew his attention skywards, as a volley of strange objects hurtled through the sky. They were artillery shells but sporting unnatural limbs and screeching heads that betrayed a frightening sentience as they arced towards his position.

*Snap*

In an instant the sky above them burst into a kaleidoscopic inferno. The bright orange of mustang’s flames mixing with the hellish green of the unmade shells igniting in midair. The armada troops nearby took shelter as bits of flaming debris rained down on them, smoking and charred. Mustang sneered down at a blacked Unmade corpse, bulbous and smoking with putrid fumes. The unmaking existed to cause only destruction and decay. Of course, the scum didn’t even have the decency to burn cleanly.

*Snap*

Mustang returned his ire to the enemy lines, reducing to ashen slag any position that the enemy had the audacity to lay claim to in his presence. He was the Flame alchemist, the Hero of Ishval, he wielded death with a white-gloved fist. Wherever the unmade horrors sought to build strength he would direct his wrath, scorching the vicinity with zealous fire.

*Snap*

He was only dimly aware of the battle tides around him. His only focus was on the enemy. The collar around his neck started to emit what could only be described as a threatening beep, he was close to exceeding what was allowed. How the enemy burned! Every place they were strong he made them weak!

“Commander Mustang!” A voice cut through the haze of festering smoke and the smell of burning flesh. He recognized it. That couldn’t be right…. Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn’t here on the island, she was still recovering from the fight earlier… As he focused on the voice, he recognized Lieutenant Uzumaki approaching. Her shoulder was bloody but based on its color the blood wasn’t hers. She locked eyes with him, pointing to the color around her neck. His was still beeping ominously. That was right, this wasn’t a real war. They were fighting a mockery of conquest, even as men around him bled and died against horrific beings. This wasn’t simply a battlefield where he could release his rage. He had been given a duty of command. Men and women were depending on him for their lives. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, and he gave a nod of recognition in the Lieutenant’s direction. She turned back to the battlefield, already shouting orders.

In a second his eyes snapped open once more, focused and intent. Their forces were stalling out. The Unmaking army had the been here for days and had known they were coming. This would be a massacre for both sides if they didn’t arrange tactics properly. Study the enemy, know them and understand them. Then dissect them along the very lines that hold them together. That was the path to victory.

The Unmaking was callous and uncaring of life, they would trade casualties with a gluttonous appetite. Clashing with them head on would not keep his men alive. The Unmaking troops were near mindless, they sought only to destroy, but their leaders were possessing of wild and canny thoughts. Wicked scheming that directed the monsters to greater effectiveness. The Unmaking was cornered, mindless with rage though they might be, at some core level they understood the state of the battlefield. They would need to seize momentum and hold it if they had any intention to survive the day. They would take a presented opportunity to change the tide of battle.

“Skuld company!” Mustang’s voice rang out clearly amidst the screaming and thudding of weapon fire. “Split into units and engage cyclically! Be ready to take the front lines when your comrades falter and fall back to regroup when you start to overreach! We will have the day, don’t get yourselves killed claiming an extra hour!”

He stalked across the back of the battle lines at a pace caught somewhere between stride and run, shouting orders and organizing units to reinforce staggering positions.

“Verdande company, work to isolate that hell dog and the rhyming mageling from the main bulk of the enemy! Try to draw them into a push, then isolate them! Lieutenant Uzumaki! Grab some of our best and brightest to keep those men alive!”

He turned to face the main stairs of the temple. The enemy general had not been idle. The reptilian monster had rushed into combat with a sadistic glee that seemed only to resonate with the Unmaking corruption that infested its crooked body. Its wicked tail weaved a web of death and it belched forth plasma in wide sweeps, heedless of the Unmaking troops it caught along with Mustang’s force. His gloved hand clenched tight. It was stupid to choose this fight directly, he knew that.

“Vega squad!” Mustang shouted, his eyes directly on the Unmade pirate general, “You’re with me. Keep my flanks covered, we’re taking down that monster here and now!”
 

Mirage

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“Oh yeah, we make this look good!”

Shots rang out of the trusty, high-powered magnum that Mirage loved to show off with. An unmade soldier was thrown off their feet with each shot, the force of the bullet enough to make most of them stop dead in their tracks. Until, however, the last shot, which ricocheted off the stone stairs as the target he was aiming for ducked down, narrowly saving their own skin. The being hissed angrily at the legend.

“Oh, c’mon, I was so close! That would have made the highlight reel!”

Another revolver shot connected with the hissing servant of evil, as Deadpool came around and blew the top of his smoking gun.

“Now, now, I can't be having you go ahead and take my highlights, I pulled that one off already.” He looked around before leaning in to whisper. “Also, don’t forget to look up after the explosions.”

“What explosions?”

Whistles tore through the air as mortar fire rained upon the temple. Plumes of smoke, fire, and even electricity spread havoc among the troops. Mirage quickly threw out a decoy and began trying to take a picture with the chaotic background. His goggles hung loose on his face as he took a pose.

“This is gonna be great, can’t wait to post this one! Is this my good side?”

“Well, I did tell him.”

A screech rang above before claws sunk themselves into Mirage’s shoulder. They hoisted him into the air, causing the battle to blur by as Mirage tried to regain his composure from the surprise.

“Ow, hey, watch the hair!” He shouted, struggling against Ridley as their claws gripped further into his armor, slowly cracking its protective barrier.

“Idiot, I thought that I ridded this temple of your foul stench!”

Before the dragon could whip Mirage into a position to tear at him, Ridley felt a bullet suddenly tear into their wing, forcing them to drop the Legend and glare at the sniper in the distance. Wraith smirked as she pulled back from the scope, glad she could comfortably rely on her rediscovered marksman ability.

“How about a little less pictures and a little more shooting?”
The dragon screeched once more before heading further across the battlefield. The pesky legend was not worth being out in the open for. The minions would make short work of him anyways. The short drop that Mirage had undertaken was not too damaging, besides a couple scrapes from sliding on the terrain.

“Oof, uh, don’t worry, I’m fine! Nothing I can’t handle.”

A growl behind him caused a chill up his spine, then he turned to face the source of the noise.

“Oh, hey, good dog. Good big red dog.”

The growl deepened before teeth gnashed at the trickster, who split into two directions to attempt to dodge the mutt. With their increased sense of smell, the dog quickly followed the real Mirage, unphased by the attempted trick.

“Bad boy! Terrible boy! Where is your owner!”

Another lunch bit closer than comfort at the Legend, who turned about and forcefully bonked the red mutt on the snout.

“Great, now it smells like dinner. Knew I should have gotten that looked at.”

Both parties winced for a moment as the smell of pork chop filled their nostrils. The red dog seemed to gag for a moment, trying to get rid of the smell. Another duplication followed, this time working a bit more like intended. The dog glanced between them, watching as both began to charge their shields with a large battery container.

The red dog lunged at one, landing on top of it as it fizzled out of existence. It turned around to find the real legend, and lunged again.

“You got bamboozled!”

Another fake?

Mirage stood behind the mutt once more, this time with a fully loaded Wingman as he stood behind a pile of sandbags. If the dog couldn’t keep up with the real one, each chase was a gamble that could lead to Mirage having enough time to set up another decoy as he took cover.

“Listen, usually shooting dogs is on my list of things not to do, but given how big you are and how much you look like you want to eat me, I guess I have to make an exception.”

Shots rang out as Mirage split once more, tearing into the large hound as it struggled once more to choose a target. Unfortunately, the chomp came down on Mirage’s arm and into his armor, fetching the decoy didn’t seem to work for this round. More shots tore through the dog, causing it to thrash and toss Mirage into some unmaking soldiers that had come out to the commotion.

“I get that there’s plenty of me to go around but can we relax for a moment?”

The legend was quick to get back on his feet and his weapon loaded before starting to take more shots, sliding along the debris in the battlefield as the dog chased him around. He had just about made it back to the main battleground as the smell of pork chops seemed to be clearing, though smoke and blood wasn’t much of a good replacement. That thought took a moment to settle as he split himself off again, turning to see that the effect seemed to have worn off on the mutt as well. Wide jaws came after his arm again, though with the cracks in his armor again, it was likely that the dog might bite clean through the armor.

Another sniper shot saved the trickster, causing only a slash from the dog's K-9 teeth scraping across his arm.

“I thought you had it under control?”

“Yeah, I mean, I did, I just forgot I did.”

“And you said you weren't sure you believed in amnesia."

Mirage held a finger up for a moment before deciding he should probably deal with the big red dog in front of him that was rearing for another bite.
 

Ridley

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Ridley’s eyes shifted through the landscape, seeing the insects that had brought themselves together to storm his temple. His prize by right of conquest. Striking from multiple angles, it was both the helldivers and Mustangs Miniskirts. Clarity struck him, almost out of necessity, as he recognized his enemies, what they were, and the tactical implications suddenly became clear. He was viewed as a far greater threat than either army viewed the other— which was correct. They had then chosen to take a united stand against him, as so many other races once had…

It had not saved them from him. It would not save these vermin either. Their death warrants were signed in blood the moment they chose to stand instead of kneel.

Ridley strode forth with glee, striking down soldiers of both groups as he charged into the fray. Ridley cooked a helldiver soldier with plasma, blazing flames finding the cracks in his armour and roasting him from the inside, before wrapping his tail around the rifle of one of the miniskirt armada, crushing the weapon and its bayonet before picking the man up. It would have taken Ridley no time at all to simply squeeze down and break the man in two, but the dragon chose to take his time, squeezing softly enough to allow him to hear the bones slowly bend and snap, slicing into the man’s own organs. Ridley relished every moment, as the soldier’s eyes bulged and shook. For a moment, the Unmade general’s other thoughts receded—the thoughts of his bondage, of his troublingly scattered mind, of his troops questionable competence, should have already made short work of such insipid weaklings—and his mind focused with glee on the misery he could still cause to a single person.

The little creature in his grasp struggled, gasped, and whined as best as it could, its power to resist gradually weakening into a bid to struggle for what little life it still had. Vomited blood stained the front of the soldier’s uniform with glistening crimson, and Ridley supposed he could keep his toy would last another minute—

A gunshot rang out, and a bullet bulldozed through the weakling’s head, the blast plinking harmlessly off Ridley’s natural armour. Without a second to spare, the drake’s head turned, smile fading as it was deprived of its plaything, to witness a full squad of soldiers, complete with heavy gear.
“C-captain, I’m… sorry. I just couldn’t watch—”

“Enough!” An authoritative voice shouted, firmly, but not harshly. “Focus! Or that won’t be the last one he kills.”

A black-haired man stepped into view, stripes and decoration all across his crisp blue uniform and an expression of barely contained rage simmering upon his face.

Ridley’s eyes narrowed in anticipation, a nasty grin spreading across his maw. His own soldiers swiftly moved in to harass the blue-clad commander and his Armada, but the dragon knew that they were far, far fewer in number.

Abominations with scythes charged, only to be cut down by gatling gun fire, while other creatures that had stayed back and let loose blasts of flame and acid were being picked off by precision fire. Precious few were making a dent, and for the first time since he’d picked it up again, the simian by his side stirred. The monkey’s broken leg dangled uselessly by its side, and its one good eye looked to the battlefield, then to Ridley, in concern.

“Oo-aa-aa-ahh?” The creature questioned, but the old reptile ignored the query as he charged the enemy lines. Monkeys were stupid, after all. It was why every monkey here had fallen into his trap.

Ridley turned into a dervish of death, ignoring or taking bullets as he responded with so many dead men for every blow landed. He’d feel many of these hits another day, but right now his focus was on reaching their captain, so glancing blows meant little to the archosaur.

Or at least, until the Armada’s commander snapped his fingers.

The pain was staggeringly familiar, but the angle was unexpected. Flames burst into life across Ridley’s body, causing him to stagger. He looked up with naked hate bursting from his eyes at Mustang, ready to roar his dissatisfaction. Mustangs next snap came faster.

The second wave of fire and pain almost pushed Ridley off his feet from the pain alone, but by now rage had taken over. He found his answer quickly, tail-blade striking out and grabbing one of the newly made corpses on the battlefield.

Roaring, Ridley let loose a hail of plasma on his new shish-kebab, before throwing the burning corpse directly at the commander and forcing Roy to jump back.

Ridley continued throwing his makeshift molotovs, leaving Mustang on the defensive. The revulsion, disgust and hatred he saw in the man's eyes stirred something, and for the first time he felt the need to speak.

“Hehehe…even here…” the Dragon managed, his voice reverberating and breaking in places. “Humans are… so weak to the death of their own kind…”

Roy stood up with Eyes of dispassionate ice, the Space Pirate’s barbs killing any mercy left in them.

It was then that Ridley heard the screams, and knew his plan was complete.

Unmade forces and Vert squad alike were barraged in droves, explosives ranging from radioactive shells to toxic clouds, acid and nightmarish beasts that began consuming those they fell upon as soon as they arrived at their destination. The artillery barrage painted his forces and vert squad in equal measure with fire and death, and the temple area around them was quickly covered in smoke, gas, and so much charred meat.

It would not be enough to take down the entirety of either force, but it kept intruders from interfering without heavy cost.

Ridley’s eyes gleamed as he felt the power kept from him for so long course through his veins. With a horrible, slimy crunch of muscle and bone, his frame enlarged, the dragon taking his true size in front of the commander.

Roy didn’t waste a second pondering this and brought his hand up— only for Ridley to blast a gust of air against the lieutenant's body with his wings, leaving him just short of the oxygen needed to snap properly.

In an instant, the dragon quickly took to the air, fire foaming from his mouth. A barrage of artillery fire peppered Roy’s position, leaving the area covered in smoke, and the dragon threw wide arcs of flame in all directions, devastating the gathered armies without a care for who or what he struck. Flames erupted all across the battlefield as Ridley unleashed his innate desire for carnage, his super-heated breath engulfing the area in an inferno of fiery devastation.

The beeping came quickly, of course, but he had done his job, and the old wyrm descended in a straight dive. With a thunderous crack, his massive frame struck the ancient stone as he crashed into the temple just a few feet away from the Miniskirt general. Orange eyes glimmered as Ridley gave an ugly smile.

For the first time since he had been brought here, the feeling of ice in his veins settled, replaced by a yawning fire, as he stared down the Armada’s Commander in chief.

This was what the old pirate lived for.

Ridley using an application of focus to briefly become a full-sized flying dragon instead of a miniaturized ground-bound birb
 
Last edited:

Wraith

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The battle had started abruptly as mortar and artillery fire from the temple began to pound the area in front of the temple with deadly precision. Wraith, sniper rifle in hand moved to the front of her column.

“To your squads! To your squads!” She shouted as each of her soldiers began forming into tight knit groups led by Sergeants and various NCO’s.

Mirage had already entered the fray and was skillfully putting down unmade soldiers with his Wingman.

“Loose formation. Loose formation!” She shouted once more still aware of the artillery.

“One man is waste of ammo. A group of you is a juicy opportunity. I want at least 6 feet between each man. The snipers from Foxtrot and Golf company will cover the gaps. Chain rifles at the ready. We’re going to show them what real carnage is.” The woman ordered over the heavy sounds of battle.

With a sharp whistle she signaled the small group of soldiers responsible for providing everyone with appropriate war music. A series of helldivers strapped onto a mountain of speakers wielding flaming electric guitars began shredding heavy metal music which signaled the entire battalion to charge. The drummers behind the speakers kept the beat as each helldiver began their move toward the enemy line.

Wraith moved to a nearby fortification with her other snipers and brought the Kraber up to her eyes. Each shot was calculated and as important as last. As unmade soldiers passed in between her infantry the company of snipers with her would pick off each soldier and make sure the line kept moving forward so that the infantry could meet the bulk of the force head on. Her plan had worked. While the mortar fire and artillery would get lucky occasionally, the separation of her troops kept most of them from being blown away. Now she just had to find Mirage.

Eyes on him.

She moved the scope to his location and watch him get picked up by what looked to be a dragon commander. With a squeeze of the trigger, she nailed a shot on the creatures’ wing which made it drop her fellow legend. She immediately returned to picking off unmade soldiers that would come into her field of view. With an electrifying guitar note her troops collided with the unmaking line and literally began sawing their way through troops, stopping every other moment to unleash a blast from their rifles.

Eyes on you.

Rotating her field of view, she clipped an enemy sniper before they could get the shot off. Removing the empty magazine from the Kraber she took another from her vest and tapped it on the fortification once before sliding it into the weapon and pulling the bolt back to prime the first round.

Mirage again.

“Easy company, swing left and engage the dog.” She spoke into her comms before letting a single round fly, saving Mirage from what looked to be a dangerous blow.

With a sigh she was about to turn around and check her rear lines when a roar split through the battlefield. The dragon had become a much larger version of itself and was breathing down destruction on Mini Skirt and Helldiver forces.

You know what to do.

Picking up her heavy rifle the General began a heavy sprint towards the area where Ridley was flying.

To your left.

To your right.

Duck.


Using her near gymnastic ability to move, Wraith leapt onto the shoulders of various soldiers making her way towards the flying dragon. Clenching her right fist, she disappeared into a void portal that ripped itself open in front of her. Reappearing on top the dragons back she planted the Kraber barrel firmly at the base of its skull.

Trust me. I know what I’m doing.

She pulled the trigger several times before being thrown back through her portal.

Wraith has used one application of focus.
 

Elise

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“Their onslaught is abating! Keep the momentum! Move forward!” Gilgamesh roared over the din of the battle. The siege had become fully pitched, with all fronts of the coalition army pressing towards the temple at the center of the complex. The golden king dashed and jumped between piles of scrapheap cover, intermittently slinging salvos of holy swords towards the fortified steps of the temple. One of his royal guard, Pater, rushed towards his King in a low crouch.

“With all due respect, my liege! I believe Ridley finally realized that the Commander is on the field! It seems all of his attention is on Mustang!” Pater shouted as he popped over one of the spiny barricades and squeezed a few shots towards the parapets.

As if in direct affirmation, a haunting screech broke through the thunder of war as Ridley passed overhead, wheeling like a twisted vulture. Gilgamesh scowled at the beast as the dragon dove back towards the ground, strafing Mustang’s position with a gout of smoldering destruction.

“...Yes, good observation my noble servant.” Gilgamesh said with a wicked grin. Mustang under heavy assault, and the enemy forces distracted? Perhaps the King would be able to kill three birds with one stone, this day.

“Move forward! The temple steps taunt us like a vixen! When the enemy relents, we fill the gap!” Gilgamesh barked, waving his hands towards the steps of the stone edifice. Only one more row of entrenched enemy positions and a hundred or so feet lay between the King’s Men and their final push. So close...so tantalizingly close.

“My King! Shouldn’t we move to support the Commander?!” Pater said, keeping pace with Gilgamesh as the king sent another volley towards a crowd of scuttling clown crabs. The legendary hero scoffed.

“We were given our orders! Pressure the temple at all costs! Surely the glorious Roy Mustang, Hero of Cevanti, can handle himself! Take cover!” Gilgamesh chided. His voice rang with ebullient smugness as his eyes remained fixed on the prize in front of him. The forward rank of soldiers dove behind barricades and into pits as another rolling salvo of cackling mirth munitions splattered onto them. Tiny scuttling spider crabs, adorned with puffball hats and grease makeup spilled over the ground cover and began burrowing into the flesh of those caught off guard.

Gilgamesh was aware that he had lost a truly horrifying number of soldiers in this frontal assault. He himself had suffered a dozen insults of the flesh from the mindless buffoons within the fortified sanctuary. The Gates of Babylon opened behind him, and a fusillade of explosive weapons thundered into his afflicted soldiers. Even Pater, one of his most loyal, gawked at the General-King with an ash-stained stare. Gilgamesh knew the look; the slight tinge of betrayal and shock at true pragmatism. He leveled a blazing, red stare right back at them.

“Your infested friends were already dead! I spared you the same fate, so do not waste it! Stay focused! Stay moving!” he roared.

---

"Is that them? Just below that awning there. To the left."

"...nahhh. Just another chaos harlequin. It looks like spellwork, but the lighting and fire they make is just the fabric of reality weeping."

"Oh. Well. Still worth a bullet."

A single, additional high caliber shot was added to the staccato symphony of the siege as Elise's sniping partner squeezed the trigger on her trans-sonic arquebus. The vampire watched through her spotter scope as the high velocity round popped the harlequin's head like a kool-aid water balloon.

"Nice shot. Let's see...if I were a punk ass wizard, I would want a good vantage point…" she hummed to herself. So far, the magic bastard had not revealed themselves to plain sight. Every time another lightning bolt or acid storm flew from the upper reaches of the temple fortifications, the originating culprit eluded her. It was becoming so frustrating that she almost wondered if the mage was under some sort of invisibility spell.

"Nevermind, this isn't working. Nico!" Elise called into her radio. There was no response from the teenage boy. Elise chanced sticking her head a little farther out of cover to survey the support and infantry lines. They were mostly still intact and sticking to the tree line as ordered, but the Nico and that Mirage guy were skirmishing with some kind of hellhound that had broken through the overwatch.

Suboptimal.

"Alright yeah you look busy but...try and push up when you get a chance. I'm gonna try and get the wizards attention, but I'll need cover." Elise shouted into the receiver. There was a beat, and then a crackling response buzzed out of the transmitter.

"...Fuckin! Yeah! Whatever!" Nico shouted in affirmation. Good enough. Elise gazed across the field of battle towards the temple. Ugly rows of alternating ditches and thorned barricades blocked any easy path towards the temple. Long pillars of greasy smoke rose from smoldering debris, and intermixed corpses, both human and Unmade, littered the field.

Yeah. No way they were crossing that gauntlet; that was Gilgamesh's business. If she was going to get a shot at the Unmade spellcaster, she was going to have to bait them out. Just as she was putting a plan together, another message blared over her radio kit.

"This is Lieutenant Uzumaki from Vega squad! We need supporting fire! Ridley-"

An explosion from the eastern side of the field interrupted the transmission as the giant, tenebrous dragon gleefully swooped through a blooming pile of smoke. Elise clenched her teeth, and contemplated the options. She really, really wanted to bag this other wizard...but they were playing smart and this was taking too long. The vamp growled and swallowed her pride.

"Gilgamesh is going to have to deal! Put all of our spare fire on Ridley! Set the munitions for air burst!" Elise called over the battalion frequency. She tapped Specialist Michelle on the shoulder and gestured towards the temple.

"You stay here and keep the snipers pointed at the summit. If that wizard shows up, pin it down. I'll go bail out the boys."

With that, Elise ducked back into the tree line, and bustled past the other support infantry ferrying munitions to the mortar squads. Small clusters of wounded were being triaged here and there. People she was supposed to take care of.

Man fuck that. These idiots signed up for this. Their cries of anguish as they rolled around in the mud were their own form of entertainment. The vampire stormed down the back line, and emerged onto the main battleground. Mirage and Nico would need help dealing with Clifford to keep the heavy guns focused on Ridley.

As it so happened, Nico and Mirage were doing their best to work together, but the bamboozling was getting too complex.

"Jesus! Fuck, Nico! This is the real me! I wasn't over there!" Mirage said gesturing towards a hologram that was currently clipping through a barricade. Nico ceased trying to beat in Mirage's face with the trucks of his skateboard, and blinked.

"Oh shit, I thought like...I was trying to trick the dog…" Nico stuttered. Mirage squinted at the hellion.

"That's not how bamboozles work. Ah-!" Mirage yelped as Red Dog pounced over a nearby trench and barreled towards them. Both Lieutenants unloaded full magazines into the beast, but the monstrous canine maintained his feral momentum. Gigantic paws tore divots into the churned lawn, and a long trail of blood-flecked drool leaked from a gaping maw. Just as Red Dog was about to close his teeth around the stringy goth, a shimmering field of energy manifested between them.

Red Dog slammed into the Gleaming Ward at full speed, and the magical barrier shattered like glass. His immense, razor backed bulk overcame its defensive abilities, but the sudden collision stunned the beast long enough for Nico and Mirage to scramble for cover. Elise slipped into the combat zone as the Unmade canine rose to his feet and shook himself.

"How brave for such a...tidbit to single herself out." Red Dog rumbled. Elise rolled her eyes.

"Nah, done with bullshit. Bye." she sighed. With a twisted hand and dry incantation, a red lance of energy impaled half way into the abomination's flank. The spell did seem to injure Red Dog, but it didn't change anything. Clifford unleashed a guttural growl and surged towards Elise. What Red Dog could not have known, however, is that Elise also had a bit of animal in her. The vampire lurched away from the charge with a serpentine lunge, and jumped over a barricade facing towards the temple.

"You can run, but you can't hide!" he howled. Red Dog cleared the spiked barrier, and was subsequently clubbed in the face by a stupid clown pole.

Honk.

"Not hiding. Where's the wizard?" Elise snarled as the beast rolled in the dirt. Gamzee stood next to her with a dark, fanged grin. There was something different about him for sure. Elise could feel his boiling lust for carnage through the Ephemeris; a dangerous tool. But she could work with this.

"Prepare yo' ass, puppy dog! This motherfucker 'bout to show you how a REAL. CLOWN. DOES IT." Gamzee shrieked. Elise edged away from him by one step.

"...w-word." Elise murmured. As the next round of their duel began, the wizard cast a glance towards the direction of Mustang's brigade. The smoke filled sky above Vega squadron was now boiling with a swathe of carefully timed mortar shots and machine gun fire. Whether or not Ridley gave a damn remained to be seen. Good. Goo-

A blast of fire smashed into Elise from behind, and knocked her flat onto her face. Undead reflexes allowed her to spring to her feet with a feral hiss, but the damage was considerable. As this happened, her radio crackled to life.

"Hold fire! One of the Hell Divers is on top of Ridley!" came the voice of the mortar team leader. Elise shook her head, and tapped the radio.

"Repeat?" she breathed.

"Uh! Nevermind! She warped off. Resume fire!" Corporal Felix buzzed.

"What…?" Elise said again, still getting her bearings. What the fuck was going on here? Why bother?

"Ahem!" came a small voice to her right.

There, standing atop a small stack of artfully arranged corpses, was a small, button nosed creature with a gleaming staff jammed into her left arm. The arcane focus still smoked and steamed from the fiery spell she had cast moments earlier. The temple and an approaching hoard of giggling monstrosities loomed behind her as she cackled in genuine glee.

"Ohohohoho! A little clown said you were looking for me! Think you can kill Untotto? Would you like to try and see?" the corrupted taru taru sang.

Elise blinked and turned to face the seething juggalo next to her.

"Did you…? How…?" she said, gesturing at the temple. Gamzee, showing deep restraint, laughed maniacally and shrugged.

"You said you were lookin' for the motherfuckin' wizard, and I'm a homicidal clown. I just walked in and asked. No one stopped me." he growled. Elise sighed deeply, and swallowed lump of fear. She had managed to draw the heavy hitters of the Unmade army away from the position of Roy's supporting fire, yes. But she suddenly felt very over extended.

"Honestly, we did think he was one of us." Red Dog interjected, pacing around the war torn clearing. The Miniskirt Lieutenant shot Makara a withering glare.

"Who's...side are you on?"

HONK. HONK.
 

Karl Jak

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Fighting is brutal, with bodies piling up everywhere. The Unmade Carnaval is holding their positions due to the ferocity of their soldiers, but their numbers are finite.

The Hell Divers have lost roughly 300 soldiers.
The Mini Skirt Armada has lost roughly 1000 soldiers.
The Unmade Carnaval has lost roughly 800 soldiers (just to be transparent for the sake of people getting senselessly upset – they are level 2 soldiers fighting from entrenched positions, no one said this was going to be easy).

I'll spare any PC injuries until the next update (the last update?).

To push their claim, the Miniskirt Armada (+ Wraith) forces must continue to push up the Vault structure, with Roy leading the way as he heads at General Ridley. Or one or both (or all three, technically speaking) forces could try to retreat at this phase.

I’d like at least one more roleplay from all parties involved. The fight will be resolved when that happens *or* after another two days.

Any Army/Unit leaders who have questions can hit me up in the medium of their choice.
 

Izaneus Phortea

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Iza pushed forward with the allies around him. Following their lead as the battle raged on. The soreness in his muscles had began to fade. With its disappearence came a newly formed attentiveness, with each moment the battle continued, Iza learned. And studied the formations. And frenzy.

Magic after magic. Missile after missile. Fire after fire.

They all flowed from him as easily as he breathed... 3.. 6... 9... 12... 15...

He watched silently as each of his attacks continuously barraged the unmade targets. Adrenaline blurred his thought process, instead forcing him to push his attacks more and more. Whatever projectiles came his way he did his best to defend against using his shield spell.

Obviously he couldn't defend against everything... But he fought through the pain. Cuts... Burnings. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't let himself stop...

18, 21, 24, 27, 30...

Cuts and bruises began to appear on his body as he pushed forward with the miniskirt armada.

He couldn't smile. Despite wanting to. That wouldn't open the door to his adrenaline fading. Though the name of their force led him to believe he was a bit of a joker.

He appreciated the man, and that mirage character. Thus he would put all his being into this fight, as he silently promised himself he would.

This was a cause HE chose to fight for. This was HIS decision, and he would make sure they saw victory.

"C'mon!! Let's show them our ferocity!!! Beat them back!!"

The words fluttered out of his mouth faster than he could stop them. It was not his place to say those words... And yet he didn't regret them. But with the battle goin on, he was sure they were lost in the chaos.

Nonetheless! He was to fight! And fight he shall!
 

Roy Mustang

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Mustang’s eyes widened as the monster swelled in size before his eyes. Limbs cracked and re-aligned underneath the unmaking growths as the creature twisted and formed in the air. This thing had been unnatural even before the corruption had taken hold of it, he could see that now. As the monstrous dragon landed in front of him with a wicked grin, the gust of wind forced him to lean into it, blowing away the smoke to reveal the debris and carnage of the field around them. Mustang stood undeterred. His uniform was scorched and torn from shrapnel in several places, revealing bits of the armor that Syntech had provided him for the event.

“Are you ready to perish, human?” the unmade general sneered. Mustang met the creature’s grin with a smile of his own, though the anger and outrage were still visible in his eyes.

“If that’s what it takes to see you monsters destroyed!” Mustang shouted back.

Mustang raised his glove, but Ridley had already belched forth a fresh hell of his own fires, and the alchemist was forced to scramble backwards. The tell-tale hum of rift energy heralded Wraith’s arrival as she appeared above the enemy, unloading several rounds into Ridley before vanishing back into the portal. Mustang seized the window of opportunity and dove into the cover of the smoking mounds that littered the battlefield. Ridley whirled back to face him, only to find the alchemist had vanished.

*Snap*

Flames roared out of the smoke, scorching the massive reptile. Ridley responded immediately, his own fire coating the area the attack had come from.

*Snap*

Only a few seconds later, a second burst of alchemical fire erupted from behind the unmade general. The blaze licked eagerly at his unmade flesh, searing his wings and causing him to stagger forward a step. The space pirate whirled, eyes narrowing. The man couldn’t have moved that quickly, surely…

Mustang remained crouched within the smoke, squinting to see the unmade beast’s movements from his concealment. He watched it retaliate once more, sweeping claws tearing through the area well to his left. This would work. So long as he continued to send his flames from oblique angles, there would be little chance for the monster to retaliate in time. He raised his glove to incinerate the enemy once more but froze. Ridley had not been searching for him in that smoke.

“Try it again, coward!” The space pirate roared with malicious glee; a member of Vega squad held squirming in one massively clawed hand. Mustang cursed, then stepped out of the smoke.

“Have it your way monster.” He called back; face twisted with derision, “Put the man down, we’ll settle this cleanly.”

“So sentimental… you’ve sent hundreds to death this day… yet would throw away victory for this one?”

“Release him! Final warning monster!” Mustang scowled.

“Fool!”

Ridley sneered at the alchemist, his wicked tail darting forward suddenly. Mustang spun out of the way, releasing a spark of alchemy that arced all along the arm that held the man captive. From shoulder to wrist, the monster’s arm erupted into flame. Ridley dropped the man, even this monstrous thing was not wholly immune to pain it seemed.

Mustang’s satisfaction was short-lived. The tail that had shot past him at first curled as it returned. The muscled appendage wrapped around his torso and arms, its barbed end biting into the armor beneath his uniform. With an extended chuckle of malice, Ridley began to squeeze, forcing the air from Mustang’s lungs with a gasp. The Armada commander’s face twisted in pain. He struggled with the monster’s tail, working his arm inside the creature’s grasp until his hand was untangled enough. Mustang retaliated immediately.

*Snap*

It was a tame amount of almost sloppy fire compared to the last several bursts. He needed it to be fast. It was a quick surge of flames, but it erupted directly into the monster’s left eye, searing all along the left side of his face. Ridley screeched in rage and pain, flinging Mustang away with appreciable force. The state alchemist collided with the side of the pyramid walls, cracking a portion of the stone that had already been damaged during the previous assault, then dropped to the ground in a coughing heap. He forced himself up to one knee, blood streaming down one side of his face, where a chunk of debris had clipped him. The space pirate general stalked forward with a murderous rage, smoke trailing from the side of his face.

“No more games. Die now!” Ridley sneered, then opened his mouth to unleash a molten ball of fire towards the downed Mustang.

“Funny! I had the same thought!”

*Snap*

The State Alchemist’s own flame rushed forth to meet Ridley’s blast, the explosion centering in unmade general’s own maw.
 
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