"The Lonely Island" (Scene - Completed!)

[Karl Jak]

The Last Emperor was a dude by himself.

Despite his awe-inspiring demeanor and presence, the sailors and soldiers of the Fleet had all voted to avoid the little island with the cabin. ‘Bad vibes’ seemed to be the pressing concern, but the Last Emperor felt that no vibes were insurmountable.

As he trudged out onto the island, the monolithic penguin glanced around at the rest of the island. By the time he had returned his focus to the single cabin, he noticed something flicker in the air. In an instant, whatever device had been cloaking the island either failed or turned off, revealing that the center of the landmass contained what seemed to be a lake surrounded by a batch of cabins. While there was now a larger, central lodge, the penguin could still spot the same building with the smoke coming out of its roof.

HOW FOREBODING D00D

The penguin spoke despite being the only one on the island, which meant there was no one to question his decisions.

As he took a few strides toward the center of the island, he felt something shudder underneath his flippers.

Chh chh chh …

OH I KNOW THIS ONE

The Last Emperor twisted around, as if to try and surprise someone creeping up on him, but all it noticed was the ships pulling yet further out to sea.

Ahh ahh ahh

Twisting back to the center of the island, the penguin let out a sigh as a colossal, machete-wielding reptile in a hockey mask arose from the lake.

***​

Characters Involved: The Last Emperor (@King Ghidorah)

Notes: The Island itself is nondescript. If we scale you both down to people size, the island is probably the size of a football field (does this analogy help or make sense?). There are beaches with palm trees, and the center where the cabins are located is mostly grass and shrubs with a small batch of trees near the lake. The cabin with the smoky chimney is, for reasons unknown, indestructible.

Enemy NPC Characters: Jasonzilla, a Size 6 kaiju with all the powers of Godzilla and Jason Voorhees. Can you kill it? Probably not. Is there a set way this Scene is programmed to end? Probably. Does that still require you to get mauled in the process? You said yes so probably. Anyway, this scene has two (well, 3, I guess) possible endings.

Length of Scene: This Scene will last for 36 hours
Post Count/Size: No limits but don't post nothing, lol
Other Stuff: Others MAY NOT join this scene if they move along this path (mostly because of time constraints)
Other Stuff: You may retreat and ‘restart’ this scene (DM me if that’s a consideration)

Good luck.

 

[King Ghidorah]

Rory and the newcomer stared at each other. There should have been a roar, a bellow of challenge, something, but the saurian therapod with the triple-rows of bony plates on its back and the charcoal-grey hide was weirdly, utterly silent. It looked strangely familiar, but between its unexpected accessories and what the penguin was pretty sure were minor visual hallucinations, he could couldn’t quite place it.

DOOD, WHERE DO YOU EVEN GET A HOCKEY-MASK THAT SIZE?

Saphire electric discharge crackled up the saurian’s dorsal plates, and a column of burning blue light erupted from its open jaws and struck The Last Emperor directly in his feathered albino chest.

SHRRRAKT

AAWCK!

BOOM

The penguin titan went over backwards in a tantrum of flailing tentacles as though he was mounted on hinges, raising a tremendous cloud of dust and soil. The island shook – and the murderous godzillamorph stomped ashore, its giant machete raised overhead in one clawed fist. Cabins collapsed in clouds of splinters beneath its mighty stomping feet and its furious thrashing tail sent enormous waves washing over the little lakeside campground, obliterating a volleyball court, drowning several more cabins and flooding the little forest.

The Last Emperor attempted to right itself, but Rory just wasn’t having any luck. He still didn’t quite have the hang of a body that was basically a squid from the waist down. Like, he was pretty sure there were feet in there somewhere, but also that those feet were rubbery and vestigial and deeply disturbing to look at; he certainly wasn’t using them to walk.

It didn’t help that his chest hurt fiercely. The other monster’s fire burned, and blue-tinted smoke rose from a blackened spot on his plumage where the blast had struck.

Fortunately, for a creature that could breathe friggin’ nuclear lasers, the saurian slasher seemed strangely stab-happy – and in its rush to get in murderin’ range it failed to consider the physical dynamics of a victim with a cephalopod for an ass.

The masked monstrosity stepped up, its thunderous footsteps oddly muted, shaking the island but barely making a sound, deftly reversed its grip on the outsized machete, grasping it with both clawed hands for a downward stab – and was immediately enveloped by tentacles. Pale briny appendages whip-cracked thunderously as they wrapped around its ankles, its waist, its arms and neck as the Last Emperor anchored itself to its foe and did the world’s most impressive sit-up, crossing its gargantuan flippers to meet the saurian’s descending forearms.

As the Last Emperor, Rory possessed the stillborn dregs of the strength of a galactic destroyer. Whatever this thing he was fighting’s true nature was, it was running off of a power-well that hadn’t been strangled in its crib : its strength burned with the inevitable sapphire heat of a newborn star, impossible, unstoppable, and it was all Rory could do to deflect the incoming blow. The absurdly huge machete glanced off the abominable penguin monolith's barnacle-crusted shoulder, drawing a splash of black blood fit to drown a four-bedroom home.

NO NO NO NO NO NO FUCKIN’ NOPE DOOOOOOAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

Tentacles slithered and rumbled frantically, prismatic nodes shifting position as the serpentine coils which carried them wrapped tighter around their target to no apparent avail. Rory could feel his foes grip on its weapon shift through the tentacles wrapped around its wrists, and could see very clearly what was going to happen next. It involved his giant penguin head splashing down in the lake while the rest of him fell in an entirely different direction.

He pointed his prism-nodes into the eye-holes of the gargantuan hockey-mask, and the laser-focused werelight of a southern aurora erupted at point blank range.

BREEEEEEEENN

SKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEONNNNNNNNNGKGUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHUUN

This time, it was the saurian who fell, finally making a sound as it howled in rage, staggering back, unbalanced by the pustulant penguin titan which had anchored itself to the monstrous slasher’s chest, tripping over the lake-shore and hitting the ground with a tremendous muted rumble.

Rory tried to run – but having desperately attached himself to his foe, he found he didn’t have the degree of control necessary to rapidly disengage.

He looked down. His opponent bared its teeth, smoke rising from the blackened pits within the now-cracked hockey mask as a blue glow rose in the back of its throat. The creature’s machete had fallen to the side, embedding the blade in the soil of the island and perfectly bisecting an unusually robust human being who was also wearing a hockey-mask, and carrying a machete of much more reasonable size – an event which went unnoticed by both titanic combatants.

‘SUP MANG. YOU KNOW, IF WE TALKED ABOUT THIS –

A sustained blast of sapphire nuclear fire hit him right in the face, and in the ensuing uncontrolled flailing as his bill cracked and his plumage caught fire he finally managed to detach himself from his opponent, slithering unsteadily away – and nearly tripping over the tenement-sized machete embedded in the earth.

Take it. There is a symmetry which must be followed, when fighting a myth – let alone two.

Weaving drunkenly as smoke poured from his ravaged face Rory didn’t question the voices in his head, the intersection of ten-thousand unintelligible whispers – he was just glad, in the moment, to have a friend.

As the masked saurian rose silently to its feet behind him, he wrapped a tentacle around the hilt of the giant weapon and wrenched it from the ground in a shower of mud, ruined cabins and uprooted shrubbery.

AUHAHAHAAAAAGH…. ALRIGHT, OMINOUS WHISPERS FROM BEYOND. WHAT NOW?

No further advice was forthcoming. Steadying itself with a shuddering effort, the Last Emperor turned around in a complicated dance of shifting tentacles, grinding shrubbery and fleeing half-dressed campers into pulp.

Slikt

The other monster was right there - its approach unnoticed and utterly silent. And now it had a giant machete embedded in its side. It looked down at the injury, which oozed viscous green fluid, apparently more offended than concerned. Rory followed its gaze. Chest-to-chest, they looked each other in the eye. Hastily, the scorched penguin titan slithered backwards, towards the beach, releasing the blade and raising his tentacles and flippers in a gesture of frantic supplication.

The titanic slasher wrenched the machete from its side, and the wound immediately began to close. Electric blue fire crackled up its dorsal spines and its mighty tail thrashed.

The Last Emperor’s tentacles changed their posture, from placating to presenting their prisms. He did not stop retreating, however.

OOOH FUCK YOU, D00D. MY FACE WAS MY MEAL TICKET. THERE WAS PROBABLY A NICE WAY TO DO THIS.

Opposing energies erupted, and nuclear fire and flickering eldritch laser-light carved trenches across the island.

Rory used one application of focus to not get friggin' stabbed, mang.

 

[King Ghidorah]

Rory was not having a good time. In fact, he was pretty sure that of all of the bad things that had happened to him which were definitely not his fault, this might be one of the worst.

Worse than the time a government-sponsored bounty hunter threw him into a volcano.

Worse than the time an entire planet erupted in global thermo-nuclear war around him because the perhaps-only-slightly chemically addictive snack-cakes upon which he had built a breakfast-food empire fit to make John Kellog fall to his knees, tear his clothing and weep turned out to cause progressive delusional paranoia in apes, and he was stuck living in a bunker amidst the ruins and surviving on his own awful product until trans-dimensional tax-authorities showed up to talk to him about something completely unrelated.

Worse than the time his robot butler dropped a cinderblock on his head because it had trouble understanding colloquialisms.

He couldn’t swim off the island – he didn’t know *how* to swim with tentacles. He couldn’t even walk along the sea-floor: Dave had said he’d friggin’ melt if he spent too long in the deep ocean, and he had no idea what ‘too long’ even was.

The towering avian mutant thought he probably had to kill his foe. But he was also pretty sure he couldn’t kill it: he had finally recognized the Mask of Jason, highly marketable terror of previous DAs.

Yes, in theory Rory could also try and return to the aircraft carrier – but what if Jazonzilla followed him? What if it sank the boat?

Frantically, the Last Emperor slithered in circles around the perimeter of an island with nowhere to hide for a creature his size, while the saurian slasher pursued him at a plodding, leisurely pace with machete held high. The ground rumbled. Particle beams flashed. Rory begged, and cajoled, over-running his word-limit and burbling about non-existent business opportunities in ancient tongues long forgotten by the living multiverse, and none of it made any difference at all.

And then his vicious nuclear tormenter tripped over a cabin.

It was ridiculous – a little cabin, set apart from the rest of the ruined campground, with smoke curling out of the chimney: It should have crumbled if either of them so much as brushed against it, should have been torn free of its foundations and sent spinning in pieces across the horizon, should have caught fire from the mere proximity of a creature that contained such world-ending flames.

But it stood, and Jasonzilla went over like an unbalanced sack of uncooked fishsticks.

Rory took his chance – he pointed himself at where the Naval Dominance Brought to You By Syntech™ lay at anchor, and he slithered just as fast as his enormous, frantically thrashing tentacles could carry him.

RAISE ANCHOR D00DS! TRY NOT TO LOOK LIKE A METAPHOR FOR ANYTHING! ESPECIALLY CAPITALISM OR TEENAGED SEX!

 

[Karl Jak]

Rory slithered across the beach and out into the waters.

He was scaling up the ship when the blast of atomic energy slammed into it, shearing through steel and scalding part of Rory's nearby limbs.

Despite listing, the vessel corrected itself and steamed out to sea as the colossus glared at it for a few moments before returning to the confines of the lake.

Update:

The Last Emperor has escaped with some minor burns (a Minor Injury)

 

[Karl Jak]

The Lonely Island had two new visitors.

***​

Updates:

Characters Involved: Krampus (@Tails) and Sam (@Nico Cinder)

Notes: The Island itself is nondescript. If we scale you both down to people size, the island is probably the size of a football field (does this analogy help or make sense?). There are beaches with palm trees, and the center where the cabins are located is mostly grass and shrubs with a small batch of trees near the lake. The cabin with the smoky chimney is, for reasons unknown, indestructible.

Enemy NPC Characters: Jasonzilla, a Size 6 kaiju with all the powers of Godzilla and Jason Voorhees. Can you kill it? Probably not. Is there a set way this Scene is programmed to end? Probably. Does that still require you to get mauled in the process? You said yes so probably. Anyway, this scene has two (well, 3, I guess) possible endings.

Length of Scene: This Scene will last for 48 hours
Post Count/Size: No limits, but obviously there's some threshold y'all have to clear
Other Stuff: Others MAY NOT join this scene if they move along this path (mostly because of time constraints)
Other Stuff: You may retreat and ‘restart’ this scene (DM me if that’s a consideration)

Good luck.

 

[Nico Cinder]

Everyone knows moonlight is comprised of the purest, most finely powdered silver. It shimmers and dances in ways flesh and bone could only ever dream of.

Nico stared at the stars, and choked on his own breath a little bit. It was very graceful, as far as breathing incorrectly went. There are still shining things in the sky after you die, he thought to himself, remembering the galaxy of stars Amalia's giant ass bird had flown them through. A sharp pain on his mouth - Nico had been biting his lip without really noticing. He tried to shake it off, and went back to inspecting Sam's meters and gauges. He had seen her name float up several times in the days leading up to the game, but never actually her. When he and Sam were leaving the camp with Victor for the first time, he thought he had seen a rather familiar looking giant skeleton demon, but it's quite difficult to make small talk in general, much less when you are inhabiting giant bloodthirsty monsters. Nico had decided not to take the chance, and focus on the game. There would be time for talk, eventually.

This is one thing Nico rather enjoyed about traveling with Victor Fries - the man was generally quiet, unless the situation called for otherwise. Direct. Made for boring companionship, but he wasn't really Nico's type of homie anyways, and it has already been well established that banter is not worth the effort when you reside within a weapon of mass destruction. Didn't stop this guy from cracking ice jokes though, which Nico kind of respected. The scientist's head was screwed on pretty straight when it came to fighting and battle. When he made the executive decision to leave all the little infantry guys to watch the boat, Nico was all too happy to not hafta watch where he stepped. Sam and Krampus stood on the beach, two monoliths stuck in the sand. They eyeballed things over with Nico and Victor. A thick fog hung over everything, hungry for the glow of the stars and moon. It soaked it up like a sponge.

"The only information we have about this place is that boat we passed on our way in. It seemed to have been in battle, and in an awful hurry to get as far away from here as possible," Victor mused, almost to himself. It was true. They didn't even have time to signal them, they sped past their boat, almost comically so.

"That big ass penguin was crazy," Nico said. Victor looked like a science-y type, and Nico was pretty sure he heard him say something about being a doctor at some point. Maybe even one of those guys that goes to secret military bases in Antarctica? "Is it normal for them to be that big where you're from? And to have tentacles?"

Victor ignored this question due to irrelevance. "Krampus and I will scout ahead and return to the beach head with a proper plan. Acting too quickly and uninformed could mean our deaths, here."

"You really think it's a smart idea to wander off on your lonesome?" asked Nico, his head poking out of Sam's forehead like a little zit.

"I won't be alone," said Victor, his fist hefting Krampus' chain. "Besides, you're much faster, you could reach us if we found ourselves engaged with the enemy."

Sam snorted, exhaling a gust of steam from his little reptilian-like nostrils and clenched knife teeth. It was up for it, Nico knew this. "If it was me, I'd just level the whole place."

Victor paused. "Can you?" He asked, after a moment of silence.

Nico looked down the way, towards the lake. It did not seem calm on the waters tonight. "Probably?"

"You have my permission then, should things go awry."

"Snowball's chance in hell, or whatever," the punk said with a shrug, and sunk back beneath the black. Not that he needed permission. There were just worse roles to play than guard dog.

 

[Christopher Chaos]

Time — that was always what was needed to solve any issue. Time and, of course, money, but nevertheless — time.

Victor knew about this more than most. His stay in the arena of Dante’s Abyss had, thus far, remained largely uneventful, carving through legions of unmade peons so a pair of dragons could maul and scorch their leaders. The wounds they’d left, well, time wouldn’t heal those; but it would take them further into this sick, twisted game. It would pay off.

In dividends, ideally. In his lab on the Hub, Nora waited — ever the dutiful wife. Each step the Krampus took, her face came into sharper and sharper focus. They’d told him that there was nothing to be done, of course. The doctors, anyway. The other doctors. They’d told him… well, they’d given her about the same chances he and Nico had to conquer whatever was on this island.

A snowball’s chance in Hell, indeed.

Hmph. What did they know?

Smoke wafted out of the chimney of the cabin in the center of the lake. It was a respectable-looking cabin, for all intents and purposes, sturdy and standing ever-so-slightly more magnificently than he ones on the surrounding beaches. Images flashed through Victor’s head of children snuggling up in their beds there, snow blanketing the roof, that same chimney bursting with smoke from hot, wintery flames.

But, daddy — how will Santa know to bring our presents here? How will he know we aren’t at home, in our apartment?

The surface of the water began to ripple.

Santa always knows, son.

Listen to your father. He’s the expert on these things, after all.

Not an expert, Nora. Just an… interested party.

Victor’s expression steeled. The Krampus’ knees bent, and it shifted behind the trunk of a large pine tree. A shoddy place to hide from a gigantic, murderous monster, but it would but them a moment, perhaps. And that was all they’d need — just a little bit of time.

Can his sleigh make it through the blizzard, Daddy?

Of course it can, son.

Won’t he be late to other kids’ homes?

Oh, no. You see, time works different for old Saint Nick. It’s a weird magic he has — I don’t quite understand it myself. But, somehow, Santa has all the time in the world. He’s never early. He’s never late. He always arrives exactly when he’s meant to. When the moment is right.

The moment struck suddenly, Jasonzilla’s machete sweeping just above the Krampus’ head. It ducked, falling prone on the ground and then launching itself forward with a burst of speed. The giant lizard lurched onto the shore, looking down at the smaller creature; thanks to its hockey mask, its expression was indiscernible, but the way it lifted its machete gave a clue as to its mood.

“Dodge,” Fries commanded his beast.

Obviously, the Krampus snarled, barrel-rolling off to the side as Jasonzilla’s blade came crashing down into the sandy beach. Victor held on tight.

“Strike one,” he muttered, betraying some slight frustration. They didn’t have many chances at this.

Fuck off, came the response.

The lizard was fully in view now, having clambered fully out of the water. It wasn’t slow by nature, but it certainly took its time turning to face Fries and Krampus, who had stalled in a defensive pose just about fifty yards to its left. Gradually — almost as if it was leaning in to the camp and creepiness of it all, moonlight crashing against its soaking wet back and everything — it lifted its feet and turned fully to face the pair of chilling opponents.

Chh chh chh…

The sound came from… nowhere, echoing loudly in Victor’s head. The Krampus, too, must’ve heard it, because it reached up and clutched its head, letting out a sorrowful yelp.

“Steady,” Fries ordered simply, his face scrunching a bit as the noise bounced inside his helmet.

Ahh ahh ahh…

Krampus’ knees bent again, but with more struggle this time. In moments, it and Fries found it hard to tell if they bent at Krampus’ will, or if the power of Jasonzilla’s will was much too strong. The beast truly towered over them — perhaps not as much as it could have, but it was, objectively, a much more impressive specimen than the doctor or his pet. Its scales almost seemed to glow beneath the light of the pale moon; its reflection in Crystal Lake shimmered. Victor bit his tongue — he knew, now, of course, what they faced: Karl Jak’s favorite toy.

Well, Karl, you’ve been a bad, bad boy. No toys for you this year.

Jasonzilla lunged, its hockey mask shifting up slightly almost by itself and its gaping jaws opening and engulfing the Krampus. The monster leapt in the air, just barely evading the lizard’s sharp teeth as they snapped together. The hockey mask slid back into place essentially automatically.

The Krampus hovered ever-so-briefly in the air, a good quarter-of-a-mile above Jasonzilla.

“Strike two,” Victor shouted.

Don’t be so sure, master, the monster scoffed, shifting his weight and diving toward the other monster. It smashed into Jasonzilla’s head with one of its cloven hooves, trying desperately to break the mask adorning its reptilian face. But not even a crack came through.

Jasonzilla’s tail whipped up and wrapped around the Krampus’ waist, lifting him into the air and tossing him headlong into the ruins of a cabin nearby that had long been leveled, probably by the previous challenger to the lizard’s might. Fries clutched Krampus’ fur, trying to regain his senses and stave off the dizziness the impact had brought on. “Strike. Two,” he growled, “and we can’t afford strike three.”

The Krampus roared angrily, but Fries tugged on its chain, silencing it. Jasonzilla slunk toward the ruin of the cabin, leaning down and pushing aside pieces of the roof and stones from the collapsed chimney as it searched for its prey.

As it pushed aside a particularly large set of boards, it uncovered something it… did not expect. Sitting beneath the rubble was a small box, looking almost like a Christmas gift box. For whatever reason, the monster couldn’t suppress the urge to open it, and immediately — with a comic amount of delicateness — pulled the ribbon off and lifted the top.

There, sitting inside the box, was a young couple, perhaps college aged. They laid in a bed about the size of the box, in a certain state of undress, looking up at the hockey masked-monster with an appropriate amount of horror. Jasonzilla felt its reptilian fingers tighten around its machete. This was his favorite type of prey: horny camp counselors.

It couldn’t even lift its machete before the chain was around it. Nice, Krampus’ demonic-energy infused chain, spiraled up its body, coiling around its arms and torso and, effectively, immobilizing it — for just a moment.

But a little time was all the time Nico needed.

“Home run,” Victor smirked. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

 

[Nico Cinder]

The sand began to shift and thrum, vibrate. Nico's limbs grew heavy, laden with goop. He felt himself get low, felt the symbiote coiling like a beast about to pounce. Tendrils of black ichor staked Sam to the beach on all fours. Its head melted away with growling smile, revealing a fucking cannon in its place. An excessive amount of missile racks stack themselves neatly in alignment on the creature's massive shoulders, locking into place. The main gun began to hum, vibrant with menacing energy. Nico thought about aiming, but simply didn't. One by one, rockets fizzed and whirred off into the night sky, striping the sea of stars in countless smoke trails.

pofpof, POF, pofpofpofpof,

The first dozen rockets smack directly into the hockey mask. Nico got angry thinking about giant machete-wielding lizards wearing hockey masks, and did not feel the need to explain himself on the matter. Bright white flashes accompanied every explosion, and the giant lizard writhed in discomfort beneath the light and smoke. Explosions punched holes into the fog, only to fill it with more haze, a swirling dance where the steps don't matter because there was no floor. Trees evaporated into thin air, and the lake was hideously deformed, every crashing rocket another discordant note in this symbiotic crescendo. As the last missile was loosed and found its target somewhere in the smoke, the 0BL1V10N cannon launched its main payload in a shower of discolored sparks. The shell exploded somewhere in the wall of smoke and fog, and the light that followed was so violent and enveloping that it broke through, turning night into day for a few, floating moments. Nico and Sam could not see the picture they painted, but their brush was heavy. If you were to frame it for them, and give it to them later, it would be a landscape painting. A lone cabin, smoke pouring from its chimney into a smoke sky. All the land surrounding it was scorched, wiped away with white light, save the cabin on the lake.

Nico and Sam using one point of focus to boost this attack on the terrain/JZilla

Victor using one point of focus to boost his cloak of banished elves and defend from that fat aoe

 

[Karl Jak]

Jasonzilla was gone.

In the aftermath of the devastating attack, the titanic monster had vanished into parts unknown. The pair of triumphant Bonds relaxed slightly as no ambush from the seas seemed imminent. Once the seconds had turned into minutes, they saw that the boats were approaching to retrieve them. Prior to departure, two made their way toward the cabin, which remained standing among the scorched carnage of the Lonely Island.

As they neared, there was a slightly warm, fuzzy feeling as both Bonds seemed to blip out of existence, leaving their pilots standing near the threshold of the cabin.

In front of them, the door swung inward to reveal a man in spandex sipping cocoa in front of a fireplace. He tilted his masked face and waved a hand.

“Hey, Nico.”

“Yo,” Nico replied as Deadpool tossed him an energy drink.

“Jacob, I assume you’ll want ice tea?”

“My name is Viktor.”

“Yea, yea … chill out. I can’t believe that I got stuck with Mr. Freeze and Not-Venom/Not-Bryan instead of the giant Penguin. Shaking my head.”


Updates:

Sam has a Minor Injury
Krampus has a Minor Injury

Sam gets +2 Points
Krampus gets +4 Points

Both of you will return to your normal 'Bond' forms once you exit the cabin.

Deadpool has been unlocked as a team member. He has his own Bond that can assume two different forms. Unlike other contestants, Deadpool can freely swap between Bonds and his 'normal self' anywhere on the map, rather than just Rest or Command Points.