V M [Unmaking] The Nausicaa Incident

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Jul 26, 2018
The leadership of the City of Hope was running out of… well, hope.

Out in the streets, the floating island’s affluent citizens caroused and engaged in their meaningless social chatter as they always had. They remained remarkably unphased by the happenings of the galaxy, the Unmaking thread a distant specter, far from view. Certainly they’d gotten to see a taste firsthand as Dante’s Abyss once again broadcast across the cosmos — but still, their indifference persisted.

Wasn’t that all just an experimental version of the unmade fashioned by the purple-suited hooligan in charge?

Wasn’t it all just TV magic?

Wasn’t it all… bullshit?

Comrade Lear Carmine, one of the deputy press secretaries for Zachary Comstock himself, had fielded this and other unsavory questions many times in the year and some change that had passed since the Siege of Markov. Naturally, of course, in the aftermath of that nearly cataclysmic event — and the not-so-nearly one that resulted in Govermorne being reduced to nothingness — the City of Hope’s governing bodies had tried to play down the threat Darkseid and his thralls posed to Opealon. The people, for the most part, had gone along with it. Down on the surface there were more stories of those nasty ruffians turning up unmade excess, but nothing like that had happened up on their safe islands. Nothing like that could .

At least, that was the story Lear was being paid to peddle to the populace of the City of Hope and it’s surrounding suburbs, like Nausicaa. They sat quietly in their carriage as it rocked along the cobblemarble roads of this smaller settlement, just a few leagues removed from the main City proper, and pondered their complicitness in the ignorance of these wealthy fools.

For a long time, Lear — and their many compatriots in the press department — had bought into the story that they’d been selling their people. That the City of Hope, for all its marvels, wasn’t a viable target for Darkseid. Or at least, if they remained passive, they wouldn’t incite his wrath, and might be able to hold out long enough for someone like Karl Jak to figure out how to get rid of the damn fool.

Lately, though… the skies seemed getting darker, and every street corner seemed more threatening. They hadn’t heard any actual reports worth any salt of any danger, but… well, they’d always had a sense.

And now, they thought as they pulled up to yet another city hall on yet another minor city-island, yet another press conference.

The doors to the carriage swung open and the Asari slid out, their perfectly tailored pants barely scuffing the ground as they started the long walk up the stairs into Nausicaa’s city hall. The building did look rather glorious rising up out of the ground before them — tall and a little spiral-y in parts, with a beautiful staircase and classically-designed columns holding up the roof.

It shined in the glow of the Crossroads’ sun, and for a moment, Lear felt themselves falling into the trap of this Arbiter-damned planet again.

How could anything happen here?

If they hadn’t been too busy taking in the scenery, they might’ve noticed the small tremor echoing through the ground beneath their feet.


Thousands of miles below, the waters on Opealon’s surface began to part through some mind of their own.

Waves began to split, and where ocean once had been, darkness and the abyss crept into view. Underneath the crystal blue skies of the ocean planet, beneath the shadows of the floating islands, something crept out of the depths of the deep, dark sea and set its gaze on a small, seemingly insignificant landmass hovering just far enough away from the planet’s seat of power.

Nausicaa was in its sights.

And soon, in its grasp.

The Nausicaa Incident begins early next week.

Prepare yourselves. More info dropping in the OOC forums soon.


Jul 26, 2018
Lear stood steadfast before the hawks of the press, suppressing the urge to roll their eyes at their idiotic questions.

“Does Comstock know of anyone who is actively trying to fight back against this threat, since he won't?” one reporter asked, her brows furrowed in what the Asari knew was some predatory glare. These foolish journalists always tried their best to catch them in some sort of lie, or at least coerce words out of their mouth the papers could twist. Well, Lear wasn’t an amateur.

From behind this marble podium situated in the main antechamber of Nausicaa’s City Hall, the cabal of reporters looked more like a pack of malnourished tigers, slopping and drooling for any scrap they could get. The City of Hope’s longstanding independence from the affairs of the rest of the galaxy had, truly, made the news circuit rather dry. Lear supposed these fools could’ve tried to report on things happening elsewhere in the galaxy, but to tell the truth, the citizens didn’t rightly care. They’d become so insulated thanks to the Skylanders’ isolationist, nationalist policies that the business of far off locales seemed irrelevant unless they were planning a far flung vacation of some sorts for themselves.

“Mr. Comstock has heard reports that there are folks on Opealon, as well as the other planets, doing their own independent research into the so-called Unmaking threat,” they smiled, “...the word ‘threat’ used loosely, of course.” Their smirk grew, and they nodded to a group of Comstock-allied journalists off to their right, eliciting a chitter of laughter and mockery aimed at the more offensive reporter just ahead of them.

“That said, I’ll say again what I’ve said before: the City of Hope has not authorized any outside help because we do not need any outside help. I’m sure the Crossroads Sun Times is well aware of the City’s policy on outsiders and otherwise supernatural help, as well as how successful that policy has been in curbing threats.”

“Yes, but -- ”

“‘But’ nothing, respectfully,” Lear interrupted, not at all respectfully. “The City’s policies remain as they have always been and always will. Does that answer your question?”


Lear blinked. This tremor… this tremor they felt, and had to admit it knocked them slightly off balance. For a moment, they considered that something could be happening, and then shook it off, scoffing at the very thought.

“Any further q --”


Another loud, rumbling sound echoed through the hall, and Lear was knocked off their balance. Reports fell into one another, colliding and slamming to the ground with a huge thump, as the entirety of City Hall seemed to jerk off center.

Lear’s blue-skinned hands grasped the marble podium, and they could feel their breath getting short. What’s happening? What the Arbiter-damned fuck is going on?

A voice crashed into their head. Dark, gravelly. Pure evil.

You already know what’s happening.

You already know... it’s time.

Outside, citizens of the city-island of Nausicaa scrambled to regain their footing. Lear burst from the front doors of the marble building, sprinting as fast as they could toward the carriage that had brought them here. Reporters clambered after, trying their best to catch the deputy press secretary and question them about what was going on, but the cracks in their facade had already broken.

“Deputy Secretary Carmine!” someone shouted from the crowd. “Is this the unmade?”

“It’s just -- ” the Asari yelled back over their shoulder, pausing briefly to try to hold back the crowd. They wanted to say it was just the floating islands’ tectonics. That sometimes… landmasses move.

They knew, though. They couldn’t say how, but they fucking knew.

Then it came.

A huge, black tentacle, lightly glowing with indigo energy rose up into the sky, rearing back and then smashing down on the ground, crushing the carriage. The horses carrying it whinnied with fear, bucking and sprinting away, as Lear watched their escape crumble before their very eyes. They stared, dumbstruck, at the gigantic limb, which seemed more energy than mass, and then turned back to the crowd of now frozen reporters.

“Run,” they said.

The same reporter from earlier met their gaze. Tears welled in her eyes. “...where?”

Before Lear could answer, several more tentacles shot up out of the abyss now revealed in the sea below, wrapped around the floating island of Nausicaa, and yanked it right out of the sky.

It jerked, then started to plummet almost in slow motion. Citizens of the City of Hope who saw its crash-landing of the nearby suburb would swear it had taken at least ten minutes. In reality, the Unmade tentacles had pulled the Skylanders from their perch above the seas in less than ten seconds.

It smashed into the waves of Opealon’s great ocean and started to sink.

The Nausicaa Incident intro, part 2/3.


Jul 26, 2018
“Father Comstock?”

It had been several minutes now since the boy had disturbed him. Hands folded over his lap, the City of Hope’s ruler leaned back in his burgundy leather office chair and let a deep breath escape his lips. Just outside the window of his office, he could see it — one of their islands, his islands, sinking into the depths.

Something like exhaustion coursed through his veins; an overwhelming sense of defeat. Nausicaa wasn’t gone, of course, and the Unmade hadn’t proven themselves unbeatable quite yet, but this… was quite far out of hand.

“Yes?” he replied flatly without turning around.

“The distress signal’s been sent, sir,” the boy informed him. “And sir,” he continued, “the councilors aren’t very happy about it.”

“I’m not either,” Comstock sighed. “I’m not either.”


Sergeant Swift’s ship entered the Opealon atmosphere a few hours after Comstock’s distress call had gone out. For a while, she and her crew hovered above the scene, watching as huge, black tentacles swept over the island.

“That looks like…” one of the privates flanking her started, before trailing off.

“Trouble,” Swift scoffed. “Trouble, trouble, trouble.”

The Sergeant narrowed her eyes — undoubtedly, there’d be Unmade monsters crawling all over the island by now. What did Comstock expect them to do? There didn’t seem to be any logical way to get the island afloat again, and even if they could, they’d have to figure out how to get rid of those huge tentacles first. The blue glow reminded her of the infected flora and fauna on Cevanti, of the gentle evil that had radiated off the Fade at every moment during the Siege of Markov.

These Unmade monsters… soon they’d be seeing red. But she knew, deep down, that this wasn’t a search and destroy mission — she would not, in her wildest dreams, be able to bring these monsters to heel. Not here, not now. No, first and foremost, this was a rescue mission. Get as many people out as they could, and save the island if at all possible.

Her ship’s sensors began to beep. “What’s going on?” she turned to a corporal manning the radar station.

“Seems like we aren’t the only ones responding to this distress call,” the soldier shrugged.

Swift smirked. So finally, the supercharged denizens of this universe were going to throw themselves into this fight? Maybe they did have a chance at stomping the unmade into the ground, after all.

“Guess we’d better get going, then,” she nodded. “We wouldn’t want to miss all the fun. Bring her down, soldiers.”

The ship whirred as it began its descent to Nausicaa… and whatever lied in wait.


As I said in the OOC thread, this is very free form. Zachary Comstock has sent a distress signal out to the Crossroads at large — use that or some other plot device to get you to the island and start rescuing folks!

Good rule of thumb for events like this is to check in with people before you use their characters in your post — just make sure everything is hunky dorey with everyone else and post away! Please let me know in the thread or on Discord (Jacob) if you have any questions!


Frosty X
Apr 24, 2020
Erde Nona
Click Here
Something had pulled Kopaka towards a particular spot in the city for some time now. It was a strange, almost intuitive calling that once again conjured the phantom memories flirting at the back of his consciousness. So it was that, after a day -- or perhaps several -- of wandering, he eventually found himself standing outside the gallery and offices of William & Sons Art Consignment, staring at the glassy, black exterior with deep scrutiny. His vision had said that the only way to catch the fleeing darkness would be to give up his status as a light bearer. It was a metaphor that he was growing increasingly impatient with.

After thirty minutes of contemplation, the Toa pushed through the revolving door, and into the pleasantly chilled interior of the auction house. A small fountain of clear water cascaded down the back wall. The floors were made from polished, gleaming marble. A well-dressed human woman stood behind an equally well-crafted counter and smiled hesitantly at the biomech.

"H...hello! My name is Veronica. Are you here for the open house?" she chirped. Kopaka scrutinized her for a moment: the optics of his Kanohi Akaku clicked and buzzed softly.

"This is a reliquary, is it not?" he buzzed. Veronica smiled vacantly. She recognized him in a distant sort of way. Wasn't he a famous warrior from one of the other worlds or something? Maybe a Syntech tournament? Something like that.

"Yes! We house and keep a wide variety of salvaged and created artifacts, primarily from Opealon. Is there something specific you'd like to see?" Veronica quested.

"...not specific. But I have an interest in the cultures of this world." Kopaka offered. Veronica nodded eagerly, and rose from her seat behind the desk. She motioned towards the elevator, and clip-clopped her way towards the lift in a pair of precarious, mauve stilettos.

"Certainly! I can show you our cultural and ancient pieces available at the moment. We have some other customers browsing that level. This way please!"

One particularly frigid elevator ride later, Veronica shivered her way out of the stainless steel lift and showed the towering Toa into a show room full of polished glass cases. Several other wealthy Hope natives were milling around, enjoying various libations and cheeses, and the room was abuzz with foppish small talk. The Toa paid them no mind. She showed him a variety of discovered and salvaged items from around Opealon's islands. To her credit, all of them were interesting in their own right. Kopaka would have enjoyed studying and analyzing any of them to learn the stories they carried within. The Toa of Ice froze, however, when he was shown the final piece.

"And here we have a particularly strange discovery. This ceremonial mask was found on one of the City's garden islands after being lifted from the sea bed. We believe-" Veronica babbled happily before Kopaka took a commanding step forward. He placed a clanging metallic hand on the glass of the exhibit, reaching for the grinning mask just beyond his reach.

"The Kanohi Miru. Great Mask of Levitation." Kopaka droned in an inarguable reverie. The grey mask seemed to stare back at him with expectant glee. Flickering, green memories stirred within his processors. Who was Lewa? Someone he had known from his homeworld, perhaps. Did he dare dig deeper into that trench of confusion and existential dread? How often could he pretend to walk away from the forgotten past? Veronica cleared her throat, snapping Kopaka out of his sudden trance.

"Well, if you want it, I'm sure I could arrange-" she started, before being cut off once again.


The Toa and Veronica wheeled around to the source of the outcry. There stood Arthur Morgan, swirling half a tumbler of fine cognac and holding a plate of fancy crackers. A long, pregnant silence passed between the three of them as a wide grin split Arthur's stubbled face.

"Well I'll be a bobcat's mittens, where you been you frosty rascal?!" the cowpoke whooped. He, quite rudely, set his cheese and booze on top of a nearby Govermorne auto-cello -- quite valuable, now that the World had been Unmade -- and stomped towards the biomech with wide arms. Just before Kopaka could profoundly object to the embrace, however, the entire building rattled, causing the lights to flicker. Veronica yelped softly, and Arthur caught the stumbling girl instinctively.

Kopaka was immediately on alert, and had the ice sword drawn at full power. A few nearby gallery viewers were exclaiming at a window, which had a perfect panoramic view of the nearby suburb island of Nausicaa. They all shrieked in horror as fleshy, hungering tentacles ripped the island from the sky, and began to drag it down to the depths. Kopaka's optics magnified to their fullest extent. The island was filled with civilians, and from this distance, his magnified vision could also see that the several whirling portals of gloom had twisted into existence around the otherwise idyllic skymote.

There was no hesitation. Kopaka marched over to the glass case holding the Miru and smashed it open with a stern, metal fist. Flashing alarms and a shrill klaxon immediately gripped the gallery, but the Toa didn't pay it any mind. He raised the stray kanohi to his face, and was wracked by an indescribable feeling as the mask of power fused with his systems. A brief flash of lightning and energy rippled over his body, as his usual telescopic features took on the grinning visage of the new mask. Arthur and Veronica looked up in a mixture of astonishment and awe.

"Trouble." was Kopaka's simple reply. With that, the biomech sprinted headlong through the the plate glass window facing Nausicaa, and launched off over the rooftops with intermittent bursts of flickering, blue jet blasts from his feet. It took Veronica and Arthur a moment to recover from the shock of it all, but after some time, Veronica picked herself back up and smoothed out her sunny, copper dress.

"Do you...know him?" she glanced at Arthur.

Meanwhile, Kopaka was in full form. Who had taught him how the Kanohi worked? Where had he practiced these great leaps and bounds, and how did the power move through him? All of it was senseless exposition, ignored in the urgency of the moment. Danger and duty brought an incensing clarity to the Toa's otherwise ponderous existence, and he would be foolish to pass up on the necessity of heroism.

It was a gorgeous day in the City of Hope; the clouds were piled like tall piles of silk, and the solemn sun of the Crossroads shone brightly on the destruction of Nausicaa. As Kopaka vaulted over the final safety barrier of the City of Hope, the Mask of Levitation eased his free fall just enough to give the Toa a good look at the doomed suburb far below. The vivid sunlight showed where pockets of malign shadow already plagued the fabric of the natural order. The ocean was already encroaching on the walls surrounding the artificial paradise, washing entire neighborhoods with relentless, muddy foam.


Nausicaa surged up towards him as he plummeted, and he hit the pavement at a sprint. Kopaka was certain that Lewa, whoever he was, would have been proud. His immediate landing zone seemed to be a shopping district of some kind; spending money seemed to be Hope citizens' primary form of distraction. All Kopaka really knew was that there were people nearby in need of preservation. There was a ripple of light, and the Kanohi Akaku bloomed back into form upon his robotic face. Its powers of X-Ray vision pierced through the concrete and cables of the surrounding buildings, allowing him to pinpoint a small clutch of civilians who had taken cover. Basement level, across the street.

An Unmade tree root cracked up through the pavement of the road, and snapped in the air like a whip. A sundry obstacle; it was bisected. Kopaka smashed through the glass door of the shop with minimal loss of momentum, and pointed his blade towards the back stairs. A river of ice cascaded down around the looping staircase, and the elemental android slid down the fresh slope in perfect form.

In the basement were five souls, all cowering from the shadows themselves. Ilsenni and her son Nestal had been on a simple shopping trip that day; just a quick walk down into the cafe district to find a birthday cake for father. Rito birdfolk were generally sneered at in the City of Hope, but Ilsenni had an assortment of human friends outside of their aerie. Those bonds had been unexpectedly brought closer now as they sheltered down with three humans. Two were the owner and cake decorator of the bakery. The fifth was some guy who had been trying to grab a quick lunch.

Now the oven was trying to murder them. They could hear it banging against the barred and bolted basement door, even as the various bags of rock salt and cleaning supplies began to twist and ooze together into some new, horrid monstrosity.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" Jackie swore, trying to keep the corrupted utilities from amassing with flailing strikes from her broom. Meanwhile, Jackie's boss Mike was trying to find more things to pile against the door, which was rammed once again with another fiery slam. The stupid birdfolk brat was shrieking keen tears, and it seemed like the island was probably sinking.

In the darkness and panic of the moment, they hardly noticed when the commotion outside of the basement doors transformed into a series of rhythmic, precise clangs. Mike recoiled backwards from the door as it suddenly became painfully cold to the touch, and frosted over with a skin of glittering ice.

"What fresh hell..." he groaned, just as the doors was cleaved in half. The five civilians collectively flinched as their death approached, but it did not come. A crackling, whooshing sound filled the air, and things seemed to be calm for the moment. Jackie opened her eye to peer at the pile of cleaning supplies she had been battling. They were frozen into a solid, immobile mass. She wheeled around to regard the towering, ice robot looming in the doorway.

"Who...?" Mike asked. But the boy, Nestal, had the answer. Actually, he was a bit of a fan, and glanced down at the white Syntech action figure he was clutching in his feathered hands.

"That's...you're Kopaka!" he choked.

"Toa of Ice." the bionicle confirmed. He turned towards the frozen staircase, and flexed his fingers, shattering the improvised ramp on a whim.

"...and the Darkness cannot stand before me. Come."
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Amalia Eckern

Level 2
Sep 14, 2021
The City of Hope had been attacked. Innocent citizens of the prosperous city were in danger, and Father Comstock had swallowed enough of his pride to send out a distress signal. And the general consensus on the Desamparado Wharf was - who really gives a damn? Let the prim and proper islanders figure it out themselves, as they loved to say “Hope isn’t for the hopeless.” Being dragged from the sky and into the ocean put those schmucks squarely in the “hopeless” category along with every last salt-soaked sea dog. Though not as briney as her fellow seafarers, Amalia Eckern’s sentiments were much the same. So when the distress signal came, she didn’t even bother to get up out of her seat atop a supply barrel. Instead she simply continued to peel an orange with her thumb and listen to a few sailors discuss the attack.

“Ya think it’s bad luck to just let them fend for themselves?” Someone asked.

“Nah, let ‘em meet with Davy Jones himself for all I care,” Another person said, “They’d do the same to us if we were in trouble.”

“Yeah, suppose you’re right.”

“Honestly, it’s a shame the whole damn city wasn’t pulled under, rotten islanders deserve everything they get.”

“It wasn’t the whole city?” Someone asked.

“Nah, just some suburb, Norsica or somethin’ like that.”

At this Amalia froze, orange slice still in her mouth. She swallowed hard and asked, “Did you say Nausicaa?”

None of the sailors had even noticed she was there. Still, the man nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s the one, Nausicaa, unmade ripped it right outta the sky.”

Their conversation continued, “How’d they even do that? If it was that easy you’d think one of the pirates would…”

Amalia stared at the pile of discarded orange peels beside her. The sailor’s voices faded into the background and she suddenly wasn’t very hungry anymore. Nausicaa had a park, several actually, but one in particular stuck out in her mind. It was filled with sweet smelling flowers and in the summer the sun kept the grass warm enough that you could fall asleep in it. The best part - it was just down the road from her family’s home and she and Lily could walk to it anytime they wanted to. She turned the half-eaten orange over in her hand, focusing on the stringy, spongey, white stuff covering it. Did her parents even live there anymore? Or did they move after her sister died and she was exiled? Why did she care what happened to them?

“...yeah, they’re all goners, but you know…”

Amalia broke off an orange slice and held it to her mouth. Her appetite had been ruined. She pulled it away and instead held it up over her shoulder. Something rustled within her jet-black hair. The head of a raven materialized from strands of her hair, it leaned forward and snapped up the slice of orange.

“Erin,” She said quietly.

“Yes Amalia?” The bird responded, looking down at the unfinished fruit.

"Do you remember my parents?"

"I remember how much you hated them," Erin answered, "You should let them drown."

Hate was a strong word, but it was probably correct. They had, after all, been the ones that reported her abilities to the authorities. That is, after they tried to help her be normal. How much had they spent on doctor visits and expensive medications? She remembered sitting on big comfy couches while therapists tried to convince her that the spirits weren't real. Amalia stood and Erin dematerialized back into her hair. Something bugged her. The night they reported her to the paranormal suppression bereau. The night that Lily died. Amalia's parents had tucked her in and whispered "I love you." Why? Why would they do that then have her ejected from the City? How could they say that they loved her in one breath and betray her in the next?

Amalia tossed the orange aside and moved towards the docks. She needed transportation. After wandering for a few minutes she settled upon an old man with a patched together sailboat. Money, after all, was not something she had in abundance. The old man, with cord-like muscles and leathery skin nodded at her as she approached. He was most assuredly drunk as fuck.

"Uhm," She said, "I need a ride, please."

"Where to?" He asked.

"Nausicaa, I--"

"No way," He interrupted, "Ain't no way I'm gettin' involved in that shitshow, good luck finding anybody here who will."

"But, but," She rummaged around in her pockets and produced a handful of coins, "I can pay you, you don't even have to stay, just drop me off, please."

"What is that? Like 38 coins?" He chuckled, "I said 'no' and I'm the cheapest boat out there so if'n I'm saying no, then you ain't gonna get a ride. Let them islanders figure it out themselves, I say."

Amalia shuffled back and forth, eyeing the man and his boat.

Erin whispered in her ear, "Claw out his eyes and make him drink seawater."

"Hush," She whispered back.

That was almost the end of it. Surely the City was mobilizing soldiers and aircraft and all kinds of forces to help Nausicaa. Her parents would be fine. They would be right? Why did she even care if they were? Amalia tasted blood, she had been biting the inside of her cheek. She took a sharp inhale and threw the pile of coins at the man's feet before rushing past him. Her hair started to writhe like a nest of snakes and Erin materialized mid-flight from her hair. Amalia jumped into the rotten tub and lowered the sail, while Erin used her talons to slice away the mooring ropes.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" The man shouted, clumsily rising to his feet.

"Sorry!" Amalia shouted, "I'll bring it back, I promise!"

By the time the man had stood up the wind had already grabbed the sails. The entire vessel creaked and groaned, and reluctantly obeyed the wind's will. The sailor shouted and cursed, but didn't dare jump in after her. Eventually the wharf shrank behind her, becoming nothing more than a small pile of driftwood. Erin circled overhead, finally coming to a rest on Amalia's shoulder.

"We should have spilled his guts into the ocean,” Erin said.

Amalia gently batted the spirit's beak, "Why are you always so violent?"

“Why are you afraid to crush your enemies between your teeth?,” Erin responded.

“Not everyone is an enemy Erin,” Amalia said, “Now… Do you know how to drive a boat?”

Erin most certainly did not know how to drive a boat, she could fly after all so why would she need to know how a boat worked? Amalia, on the other hand, had a bit more experience, namely she understood that sailboats floated and they needed wind to go anywhere. That said, when she examined the endless coils of ropes and knots she had little idea of how to actually steer the damn thing. She had managed to drop the sail, but that was about it. After a spell she had managed to not only get rope burn on every single finger she hadn’t come any closer to learning how to drive the boat. Worst yet, she had completely lost sight of the wharf.

Something on the horizon, however, did catch her interest. It was a wreckage of some sort, a boat maybe? Or a flying machine? Both? She wasn’t sure, but what she was sure of was seeing two humanoid figures, clinging onto the floating wreck. Amalia pulled at the rope she figured had the best chance of directing her over to them. Regardless of dumb luck or perhaps skill the boat followed her command and before long she had pulled up besides the shipwrecked figures. Amalia offered a nervous smile.

“Uhm, hey,” She said, trying her best to slow the craft down, “Either of you know how to drive a boat?”

Arthur Morgan

Pass Into Myth
Aug 2, 2018
Click Here
Spirits of Vengeance
In the wake of Kopaka’s departure, Arthur was left standing there, staring at the shattered remnants of the glass window, stricken dumb like the rest of the art exhibition’s guests. And perhaps more than a little bit inebriated, to tell the truth.

He slowly glanced at Veronica. If she was particularly bothered by the window’s destruction and the gigantic mess of darkness devouring the island suburb beyond, she sure wasn’t showing it— more focused on the rumpled state of her dress, if anything.

Still, that didn’t mean real trouble wasn’t well on the way. Already he could hear a bit of a commotion over by the entrance to the gallery. Turning his head, Arthur identified four broad-shouldered men dressed in dark suits rolling in like a couple of well-dressed storm clouds, bulky weapons strapped to their hips and a stern demeanor hanging about 'em.

“Do I know him?” said Arthur, a wide, easy grin spreading across his face. “No, can’t say I do.”

“But... you just said his name,” Veronica’s brows lowered, her eyes sweeping over him with a clearly distrusting air. “You called out to him. I heard you.”

“Did I?” he asked, swiping two flutes of champagne up between his rough, dirt-crusted fingers. The delicate glasses clinked together as he brought them to his lips, the dark shapes of the security team filtering through the glass, soothing and reassuring their way through the crowd of tittering, whispering nobles. “Don’t think I recall.”

Taking a long pull, Arthur winced and coughed as frothy notes of almond went down the wrong pipe, lightly thumping his chest to offset the uncomfortable bubbles fizzing against his collarbone. Vile stuff. ‘Least the crackers and brandy weren’t all that bad...

Veronica stared at him. The look on her face reminded him uncomfortably of someone he’d been close to once upon a time, though he couldn’t rightly say who it might’ve been. Seemed there’d always been someone disapproving of him for one reason or another; felt oddly natural, it did.

Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Uh… yes, you did.”

“You must be mistaken, lady. I ain’t never seen him before in my life,” Arthur swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, setting the now empty champagne glasses down on a nearby platter with a little more force than necessary. “Listen, I’ll catch ya later. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s trouble.”

The man turned, stumbling, and pitched with incredible determination towards a door labelled as the emergency exit. He made it about three steps before Veronica was dogging at his heels, grasping at his sleeve in a half-hearted attempt to stop him.

“You can’t go out that door, Mr. Morgan, it’ll set off the—”

He fumbled with the door, shouldering it open. The rest of her protests were promptly drowned out by the most ungodly, ear-splitting shriek Arthur'd ever heard; he damn near let the door swing shut on his face in surprise. But by now the law was shouting, and almost certainly headed their way, and—

Arthur Morgan—the man, the myth, the drunken buffoon—shot out the door like a greased pig from a chute, duster flapping behind him as he tore his way down the stairwell. The sound of shouting and heavy footfalls thundered after him, but his senses were overtaken by the pounding of his heart, his boots thumping down the tiled steps, the promise of sweet, open air that lay ahead, and untold danger beyond.

Bang! The outlaw crashed through the back door, spilling out into the alleyway behind the fancy arts center. He found that it was utterly deserted, and nearly tripped over a few bins lying around with garbage and other foul detritus littered across the ground.

A pigeon took flight with a muffled warble as the man turned and barreled down the thin strip of pavement, tearing off in the same direction he remembered Kopaka'd been headed.

He’d already lost track of that robot feller once before, back in Dante’s Abyss. He wasn’t about to lose him again—not after all this time.


Charismatic Duelist
May 12, 2019
Click Here
Spirits of Vengeance
Seventy-six hours.

Seventy-six accursed hours.

That was all the time they’d gotten to enjoy this miserable sopping wet little ball of anxiety and prejudice before everything started going to (what was actually amounting to) literal hell.

Isra sighed and pushed the accelerator closer to the floor. He gripped the leather steering wheel tight, his dark skin turning white with tension.

At least he was a bit more relaxed than a week or so ago.

Ruedlen rubbed the top of his thigh, squeezing above his knee as her keen eyes studied the city in it’s chaotic motion. It was sensual, and forced his mind to remain in the present. (She helps keep me so focused.)

He gave a deep breath. He didn’t want to think about the future. He just wanted to go back to that hotel suite and hit pause for forever and dwell in a safe place. A part of him was almost resentful to have to return to his responsibilities, almost spiteful about how little time he got to relax normally. Isra knew better though, knew himself far better than to think that sitting idle for long periods would actually help him out. The dark haired man sighed through his teeth as they rounded a corner.

They were about to arrive to snatch up Ezrihel from whatever brothel or fashion show he’d crawled into. Raphael cast a long look over the woman next to him as he finished programming the route into the autopilot, “hey... we’re nearly there Rue we-”

She pulled him in for one last kiss as she shuffled her way into the backseat. “Yeah, I know love. Your privacy and all that. Down low.”

The medic closed his eyes and exhaled. It was hard to not worry about her. She was a perfectly deadly warrior with an unbreakable will, but it was still difficult for him to not worry about her safety, about her health and well being. A pit yanked his stomach down.

He hated caring about people. It made things messy and complicated and tedious. Things were so much more agonizing when it was more than just himself he had to care about. It was easy for he himself to underplay his own self-value. He could quantify the pain he knew he’d feel if she was mortally wounded, or if she died (gods forbid it, it would be unspeakable).

It was awful trying to stay grounded in the moment. His mind snapped and crackled with infinite stressful possibilities as he worked to try to mentally prepare himself for everything that was ahead of them. He was already easily imagining Ezrihel’s endless bitching and whining about the situation. It was a mere moment before the imagined became a reality as they pulled up next to the curb.

The ashen blonde diva strutted up to the driver side of the car and popped the door open, much to Isra’s displeasure. “Ezrihel, what are you doing, get in the passenger si-”

“Scoot over-”


“I’m driving, move over Israphael!”

“Wh- I can drive just fine, what’s your problem?”

“Just let me-”

“You know what, okay- fine.” Isra unclipped his seatbelt and slid over to the passenger side with a massive roll of the eyes. “Fine Ezrihel, drive the damn car then.” He clipped himself back in, “do you even know where we’re going, impatient one?”

“I’m certain that you’re going to fill me in exactly.” The nobleman cast a glance back at Ruedlen, who stared idly from the back window. “What, did I interrupt a date, Isra?”

“This is hardly a time for anything romantic, Ezrihel. A part of the city just got yanked into the ocean, in case you and your infinite knowledge haven’t noticed.”

“Ah, yeah you’re right Isra, Ruedlen’s too high class for a social deadweight like you. What was I thinking,” he pulled them out onto the road and floored the accelerator, “acting as if you could be relevant to her. Ha. I really am hilarious.”

“Yeah, you’re an absolute comedian, Althaus.” Ruedlen piped in, clearly unamused. “Are we going to go see what happened, or are you two going to bicker and bitch like two stupid old rivals? I can feel all the deaths piling up around us.”

Ezrihel scoffed at her as he swung them around a corner sharply. “Charismatic as always, dear Rudy- and where did you two get this car? It smells like a pleather factory.”

“You should be smart and call P’thyael, get them ready. It’s looking like the incident area is pretty bad just from first reports.” Isra’s eyes quickly scanned the out-pouring of real-time news.

“... How much of the city is in the water.” The noble asked cautiously.

“Looks like a suburb: Nausicaa.”

“Honestly, I have no idea how big that is. Is that a lot? Lots of casualties?”

“Ezrihel.” Ruedlen snipped.

The aristocrat sighed dramatically. “I didn’t even want to be here, okay? We have been harassed and molested the entire time we’ve been here because of our ears.”

He started on a rambling tangent. “Forgive me if I’m not chomping at the bit to throw myself down into the abyssal oceans to fight off Dhir’lous-knows-what for the sake of saving technological arcana-hating xenophobes. Do tentacles just miraculously pop up from the depths of the oceans here? Why am I the only one who was worried about some sort of catastrophe happening while we were here?”

His emerald green eyes snapped up to stare at Isra. “Oh and by the way, no way in any of the infinite layers of hell are you going to get me to eat more of that calamari stuff.”

The doctor shot him an utterly baffled look at the sudden topic change.

“Oh don’t act like I’m coming out of left field at you, Isra. Those tentacles dragging an entire neighbourhood into the ocean are just bigger versions of what you had me try. Let’s just say-”

“Althaus, I don’t think they-”

“Let’s just say that I am very freaked out.” The noble asserted his voice over his companion.

“... Althaus, I really don’t think they served us that thing’s babies.”

“How do you know that??! You absolutely can not know that- this Opealon place is awful and strange and full of nightmare scenarios okay?” Isra went silent, save for a quiet grumble. “Next time, I am the one choosing the planet to land on and have shore leave, and that’s an order.”

The catty blonde let the car slow to a stop as they finally came to the scene of destruction. Smoke rose from the sinking suburb a half a kilometer down, and tattered sections of asphalt and rail lines hung like earthen scraps and forbidden tinsel from the ragged roadways.

The massive fall made their collective stomachs lunge, even if it wouldn't hurt them too badly- it was more so the water rapidly consuming the islet that gave them pause.

At least it was a flying hover car, perhaps it’d be able to survive the fall. Ezrihel certainly hoped it’d be able to, with what he was planning.

Then his sharp eyes noticed something.

“Is that a man over there?” Ruedlen blurted out, staring at a... rather dated looking individual dressed in a long duster. He was standing close to the edge, seeming to test different areas for a route down. There was something about him, she felt. Something stained him dark and blue with the royal colors of death.

“He’s not trying to find a way down there, is he?” Isra pondered out loud.

Ezrihel rolled the window down and, “Hey human!”

The capped figure spun around quickly, or rather, he attempted to. He wasn’t trying to be caught with his backside in the wind by any law-enforcement now.

The Andromedan continued once he had the coated-man’s attention, and beckoned him forward. “Are you trying to head down to Nausicaa, cowboy?”

The cowpoke stepped towards the car, only a tad bit wobbly. “Yeah,” came his gruff answer. “Why?”

“It’s looking pretty dangerous down there... Do you have a ride or... Were you just planning to make the world’s tallest long-dive?” Ez pushed a lock of blonde hair from his face and studied the man. He honestly looked like he’d stepped right off the set of one of humanity’s ‘westerns’, but the grisled landscape of his stubbled face lent a certain air of authenticity and credibility to any wrangling stories he might tell.

The human man glanced at the electric powered vehicle and grimaced slightly. “Well I-”

“Do you have a name?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan, sir.” He felt compelled to answer the downright aetherial blonde quizzing him. The outlaw wondered if the androgyne studying him was one of them biblical angel types, they certainly looked the part with the flowing hair, and that divine looking glow.

“Good lad. You may call me General Althaus. Now hurry up and hop in cowboy, we’ve got a suburb to save.” The back door closest to Arthur popped open with a quiet hiss.

Oh why the hell not.

He clamoured into the car and swung the door shut behind himself. “Now, how’s we getting down from here?”

The angelic blonde flipped the car into reverse, smiling at their new dusty friend with a certain level of mischief. Arthur felt his stomach to an uncomfortable degree as the flying hover-car bolted forward over the edge.

It was a long way down.

Arthur cast a look over to the dark haired woman next to him in the back. He hadn’t even gotten to ask for her name yet, but he found her most striking features to be her lavender skin and the way her ghostly white eyes cut across him. She smirked and waggled her fingers at him in a half-playful wave as he began to float up and off his seat. Rue saw how his inner fire burned a cold blue and she found her curiosity piqued. It did not escape the man how the three travelers seemed bolted down to their chairs even as he drifted into the ceiling and lost grip on his black leather hat.

It felt like they’d been falling for ages, plummeting forever into a great big abyss that wanted to consume them.

Then, just as suddenly as the suburb had been wrenched from the sky, they hit the ground with the same intensity as a cartoon safe dropped from a skyscraper.

The car had survived the fall, at least.

The car and the three tanky andromedans inside had little reaction to the sudden stop, at least.

Arthur would argue that he wasn’t as blessed or strange as this new group he found himself in the middle of as he fished around for his well-worn hat. Seatbelt or not, he’d still been tossed around a great deal in that landing, though he quickly found he was hardly hurt by it. The ambiguous feller in the driver seat, Althaus, handed him his cap as they extracted themselves from the small crater the vehicle was ‘parked’ in.

The strange gal next to him with the curly raven hair had simply climbed out from her window with a level of grace that made the cowboy feel like it was just another normal Tuesday evening for her.

Isra was still seated, looking back at him with steely azure eyes intense enough to pin any critter or creature to the ground in it’s scrutiny. “You are human. Are you injured from the fall?”

He set his battered hat back on his head, a fitting crown for a noble outlaw, and unclipped himself from the seat with a deep groan. “Aw hell- no- no I think Iam fine.”

“You’re good to travel? I’m surprised your knees aren’t in your mouth after that landing.” The doc took him at his word, however, and joined his companions on the destroyed and deserted street.

Well, it certainly felt like his knees were down his throat as he hobbled up to the group. They all spoke softly between themselves, discussing some sort of idea or plan he figured. The blondie was gesturing semi-wildly at what he reckoned was a gigantic tentacle looming in the distance.

“All I’m saying is that I don’t think we have the artillery for something this massive, I mean, how many dive suits do we have on hand? Does anyone here know?”

The dark haired duo shrugged. Inventory was in neither of their departments, so they hadn’t bothered keeping up with what felt like irrelevant information for their stations. Isra spoke up first, “we need to help secure as much area as we can, get any civies out of here.” He glanced between Ez and Rue, then to Arthur. “Are you sure you are good to fight, Morgan? You have a limp.”

The way that the dark-skinned doctor coolly and matter-of-factly noticed the ever-so-slight limp to Arthur’s gait caught the man off guard. These three were keenly perceptive, he’d reckoned with a hand rested on his belt buckle. “Yeap, I said I was fine.”

Ruedlen had taken to raking the blue man over with her eyes once more. Cold and blue, like the grave, she thought. A human man left unhurt by a multi-story drop like an andromedan? He was no normal mortal man. She felt a weight in his steps, a solemnity in the air around him.

“Good,” Isra spun on his heel and instantly set to searching through the closest building before Ezrihel, who’d been uncharacteristically silent, corrected him.

“Darling Isra, next building down, huddled in a back room of the third floor. Feels like a small family.” The medic duly darted into the aforementioned apartment and disappeared from view.

Could this angel feel or somehow see folks in these smoldering buildings? An idea flashed into Arthur’s head. “Hey, er, General Althaus-”

“Yes, Arthur Morgan?”

“I was wonderin’ how you can tell there’s folks in which building- you see I was lookin’ fer a particular feller back up top.”

The blondie pursed his pretty lips for a very brief moment. “This ‘feller’ you are looking for, are they a human like you?”

“Er, no. They ain’t. He’s this big icy feller- he was jumping ‘cross buildings last I saw ‘em.”

“But he’s organic, yes?”

“He’s uh... Toa.” That was what Kopaka had called himself constantly, the Toa of Ice.

Ez stared at the cowpoke for a moment, he could feel the gears turning in the man’s dusty brain. This Arthur man certainly seemed as if he’d been thrown through time and space. “I’m sorry Morgan, I don’t think I really know what a ‘Toa’ is.”

“An icy robot?” To be frank, Arthur didn’t quite know or understand what a Toa was either.

“I’ll see if P’thaeyl can pick him up with a scan then. Why don’t you go with Saerhaus and find the survivors on the other side of the street? Oh- I’m sorry. The woman in the back with you was Saerhaus.” Ez quickly added on when he realized that he’d only introduced himself, and pointed across the street at Ruedlen. She’d slipped away and was prizing heavy rubble away from the doorway of a half obliterated building.

With little more than a nod Arthur left and jogged over to her.

Ezrihel scoffed and shook his head. Toa? Ice robot? A thousand possible images jumped to mind for how this ‘big ol icy feller’ looked. In a city of androids, robots and artificial intelligence, it would be quite a pain to try to track down a single robot- but he supposed he could keep an eye and ear out.

’P’thaeyl, I need you down here fully kitted. Bring me Rose.’

’Yes, Master Althaus. I will be at your location momentarily.’
The AI was quick to chirp in his head. He darted into the same building that Isra had gone to check, keeping his mind’s eye focused on the vivid living flames of his companions’ energies.

’Can you tell me how many dive suits we have on board?’

’We are not equipped for deep ocean dives.’

’None, really?’
He cursed his people over their disdain for water as he shouldered past some rubble, graceful enough to slip by quickly without dirtying up his black inquisitor robes. ’Do you happen to know what robot class a ‘Toa’ is, P’thaeyl?’

’I have no andromedan class entries on robotic ‘Toa’. Would you like for me to try accessing public records for the City of Hope?’

’Yes, but only if it doesn’t divert or hinder your deployment.’ The building rumbled, creaking in a sheer metallic stress-whine that made the Andromedan clench his teeth and grimace. What an awful sound. It made his stomach flutter in suffocatingly anxious fear that the entire apartment was about to slide clean off into the water and he found himself gripping the wooden railing until it started to splinter in his begloved grip.

This was the worst vacationing experience.

Sigmund Vrell

Cosmic Brain
Staff member
Level 6
Level 5
Sep 9, 2018
Mesa Roja
Click Here
Tobias knelt patiently in the living room, quietly listening to Alva’s increasingly agitated shouting with whoever was at the door. It was someone sent by her father, no doubt, and he was sure that they were revelling in the opportunity to deliver her bad news. And, of course, if she couldn’t take her anger out on the messenger, she’d take it out on someone else. With any luck, that someone would be him and not anyone innocent. With a final muffled shout, the door finally slammed shut and his Lady walked into the room, running her hand through her raven hair with a frustrated sigh.

“That was a message from Father.” She said, confirming the young man’s suspicions. He remained silent as he waited for her to continue, unwilling to interrupt his distraught priestess. “Apparently, Nausicaa is sinking. Darkseid has decided to pay those pretentious bastards a visit.”

“O-Oh. I see.” Tobias replied, caught off guard by the severity of the situation.

“That's not all of it.” Alva sighed, crossing her arms and fixing her gaze on him. “Father has decided that we’re going to intervene, and he’s giving me the opportunity to handle the job.”

“I'm sorry, but isn’t that a good thing?” Her warrior asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “He isn’t holding a grudge after that... incident down below,”

“Of course it would be, normally. But he sent that cretin Reginlief to deliver the message.” Alva’s attempts to keep her composure faltered for a moment, a mix of rage and sadness crossing her visage. “They… weren’t kind in their delivery. But no matter. With your help, I’ll be back in Father’s good graces.”

“Hrmm... are you certain that I’m the one you want to send? And only me?” Tobias said, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He could practically see all of the ways that things could go wrong flashing before his eyes, and the thought of letting her down after seeing the look on her face was enough to make him sick. “Not that I mean to question your judgement.”

“Ah, this again...” The priestess sighed, giving him a tired look that only served to make him feel worse. “How many times must I say it? You are my greatest weapon, Tobias. My favourite sword. I know that you can do this, that you can get on that gods-forsaken rock and figure out what’s going on without drawing any attention to us. I would not pick you if I didn’t put all of my faith in you.”

“Thank you, Alva…” The young man replied quietly, his heart aching at the belief she had in him. “But please, humour me. What if I do fail?”

She sighed, giving him a forlorn look “Then that will be the last straw for Father. I’m sure he won’t say it out light, but he will doubtlessly push me to the side and focus on my brother. I… I don’t know what I will do, but I will figure something out.”

Tobias felt his chest tighten. The fate of his Lady was resting on his depressingly inadequate shoulders. Despite the sickly feeling seeping into his stomach, he did his best to steel himself. If it was for the only person in the world who believed in him, including himself, he would do whatever it took.

“Very well, Lady Alva. I won’t-.” Tobias said, the words catching in his throat. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good. Good…” Alva said, a tired sigh slipping from her lips. A moment later, she perked up, leaving the room for a moment. “Ah, I won’t send you empty-handed though. I have a gift for you.”

“Please, Lady Alva, you don’t need to… Oh...” Tobias said as she came back into the room and revealed her gift. She proudly held out her sword, a beautiful blade with an ornate black hilt, passed down to her from her father. “No. No, I couldn’t...”

“You can, and you will.” She said firmly, pushing the sword into his hands. “You’re worried about not being good enough, right? Well, this is one of the finest swords this side of the crossroads. It will see you through this.”

“I… Thank you, Alva.” He said quietly, taking the sword. The warrior knew that it was a baseless argument, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. “I’ll head out soon then.”

“Alright. I will see you shortly.”

Tobias almost opened his mouth to correct her, to let her know that he very well could let her down, that he might screw things up so badly that she wouldn’t even deem him worthy to resurrect, but he decided against it. “Yep. See you soon.”


Tobias let out a long, sharp whistle at the state of Nausicaa. He had never been to the City of Hope himself, but he had heard stories of a beautiful display of progress floating among the clouds. One that rejected him. One that rejected Alva. Now, though, it was a chaotic mess full of panicking civilians and encroaching horrors. Frankly, he liked it better this way.

The warrior’s sightseeing was cut short by a shrill scream nearby, drawing his attention just in time to see an errant blob of corruption soak a nearby tree, almost instantly morphing it into a nightmare topiary as it uprooted itself and began lurching towards the nearest terrified citizen. Well, even he could take on this one.

Tobias lunged forward, brushing his royal blue robes to the side and drawing his own sword in one fluid motion, unwilling to use the precious heirloom that had been lent to him on a man-eating shrub.

“Bear no false gods. Suffer not the falsehood of reality. The despot Darkseid will fall.” The man chanted, his skin and robes crackling with violet lightning as psionic energy peeled from his weapon. With a screech, reality sharpened itself into a jagged blade of amethystine energy around the edge of his sword and tore into the tree as he swung from the heels. The psion wrestled with the corrupted plant for a few seconds before letting out a roar as his weapon’s fangs tore through the warped bark, bisecting his foe with an eruption of violet lightning.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments as the fresh corruptant’s body withered and faded, a handful of braver citizens staring in fear and awe at the display. “Was… was that magic?”

“Not magic.” Tobias said with a grimace, flourishing his blade as he turned from the crowd. “Divinity.”

It was a true shame that Alva wanted the mission to be a more subtle affair. These people should be rejoicing. After all, a true god had come to save them from Darkseid. Gal’skap had arrived in Nausicaa.


Dungeon Master
Level 4
Jul 1, 2021
Click Here
"The prosperous town of Nausicaa has fallen from the sky!"

Lilith tilted her head up, the usual droning of the TV interrupted by a breaking news alert. She sipped a glass of white wine, curiously watching the live aerial footage.

"Father Comstock has issued a distress signal, urging all of the Crossroads to lend their assistance in recovering the great island."

What did she care—

Oh. She forgot. This wasn't an ordinary world with ordinary threats. A terrible plot immediately formed from her dark desires. This was a chance to meet some new friends and make some new enemies. She'd soon forget their names, either because they died or weren't that interesting.

Although, she figured a few would stand out and etch their way into her memory.

The bar- nay, the entire village was in a commotion, more than usual. Seems like a lot of people got the message at the same time. The common folk were eager to gossip about the apocalyptic event, of course. But equally there were talks of wannabe heroes itching to snatch their spot in the light, diving headfirst into the rescue effort.

Truly sickening.

Most of the brave souls were sending themselves to the slaughter, but that's not what bothered Lilith. No, what mangled her guts was that some heroes actually would be prepared to fend off the Unmade (I suppose that's what these corrupted monsters are called). The thought made her physically, mentally, and spiritually ill.

She would not stand for this. It was now her mission to leave as little survivors as possible, and maybe wring some hero necks along the way. She wasn't exactly fighting for the side of the Unmade, though. Her motivations were purely for selfish reasons.

It was strange. Events this exciting never happened on the Earth she knew. Granted, it was nowhere near a perfect world, but disasters were usually within the realm of control. Life just wasn't the same after the Great Wars.

It was rather fortunate that she was pulled into this dimension, wasn't it? She was tired of waiting for the sequel to the Great Wars to happen on its own. Although, if she was a bit more persistent, she could've caused some world-ending catastrophe to really grab everyone's attention. She was almost certain she hadn't caused this one.

But I will be responsible for its success.

Lilith tightened her straps and raced for the world gate. All the other citizens had the same idea; a long line had formed as the destination was changed to Opealon.

Ugh, do I really have to wait in this damn line?

As it turns out, she did. She crossed her arms and put on a pout all the way through as she stood impatiently.

She decided to add her own rabble to the restless crowd. "Hurry the fuck up! I'm missing all the action!"

A distant 'Yeah!' came in agreement.

Shouting and jeering did little to bring her ahead any faster.

Being crammed next to all these amateurish soldiers vaguely reminded her of those bygone times she was suddenly so nostalgic for. Of course, she never joined the military in any official capacity, she had neither the patience nor discipline. Nonetheless, she found her way onto the battlefield, using the cover of war to violate every clause in the Geneva convention.

It's just too bad her involvement was expunged from history. She knew well enough why; if the world knew such evil walked freely, it would be in a constant state of terror. And so, covertly, the nations conspired to contain Lilith. Rumors had been circulating long before then, rumors of a strange woman who brazenly executed the powerful and the famous.

As society collectively advanced, it realized the stories were more than fiction.

The assassin could not be captured, neutralized, or otherwise kept quiet. The operations did force her hunting habits to adapt, though. Now she kept her presence a secret, lying in wait, until the perfect conditions lined up for an ambush.

The harassment continued. More vigilant police, tougher armor, heavier firepower. More obstacles to overcome. As technology evolved, so did the mutant.

It seemed the conflict remained locked in a stalemate.

Then Lilith discovered the internet.



"Huh?" She blinked. Finally, I can get this show rolling.

The man logging entrants on a tablet stared at her incredulously. "Name."

"Lilith." She tried to blitz past the gate only to be stopped by a forcefield.

"You may enter after you've paid the toll, miss."

She eyed the machine next to the gate before muttering something rude. "Fine." After spilling a handful of Coin into the toll collector, she marched through the portal.

Two steps later, she arrived in the welcome area of the City of Hope.

The first thing Lilith noticed was the polished marble floor. A stark contrast to the dusty stone paths of New Abraxas or Karim. It wasn't just the floor; the whole room was sparkling white and sky blue. Far too safe and sanitary for her liking.

This planet is dreadful. I'm gonna enjoy tearing it apart.

This area couldn't really be called a welcome area. It was more like an inspection checkpoint which all visitors must pass. A squadron of guards swarmed the crowd, shaking each person down for whatever they deemed contraband.

Unfortunately (for them), Lilith had nothing to hide. She had no problem exposing her vileness to the world. When it came her turn to get her personal space violated, she made sure the guard was as uncomfortable as possible.

"Ahn!~ Hey, what are you touching me there for?
"Is it really necessary to be so rough?
"Are you being thorough? I think you missed a spot.
"Is that all, officer?"

What was once a show of power had been made into a mockery by this infernal woman. The guard ashamedly dismissed her, if only to salvage his dignity. Oh, to hell with Nausicaa! Is saving one blasted city really worth sullying the reputation of the City of Hope?

"Oi, that it? You sure I don't need a deeper examination?" She peered down with an unimaginably devious expression.

Well, that was fun. Now it's time to get serious. A convincing lie. She almost believed it.

Lilith leafed through the complimentary pamphlet, trying half-heartedly to learn more about this place. She skimmed past the vomitous walls of propaganda, mostly concerned with the map.

"18 hours of daylight? Are you fucking kidding me?!" she clamoured, her contempt for the planet growing by the minute. Somehow, just reading that made the oppressive sunlight worse.

So this place is called the City of Hope. What an unfortunate name.
God... I can hardly hear myself think!

The city was non-stop bustle. Even in the midst of an emergency, gaudy, extravagantly dressed aristocrats stampeded up and down the streets, chattering to other pompous snobs alongside. Fleets of supersonic trains chucked overhead at every corner, drowning out all noise with their horrid screeching. She'd been to big cities before, but not even New York was this bad. I swear on the Old Ones I'm going to raze this city to the abyss.

Lilith fought to keep her bloodlust at bay, the urge to cleave everyone in the vicinity nearly overwhelming her.


An unexpected blessing befell the sadist. As she approached the outskirts, the grating commotion died down. Seems some people were sensible enough to evacuate the adjacent area.

A new sort of sound entered her awareness. She knew it well, having been on both ends throughout her lifetime; a chase. She spotted the outlaw making a break for it across the path, beefy security guards hot on his trail, batons in tow.

Lilith didn't get too good a look at him, but somehow, through the man's mad drunken dash, he seemed undeserving of being tangled up in this ordeal. Another responder, she presumed. They'd become real familiar with each other, soon enough.

Speaking of deserving punishment, she proceeded to crumple up the pamphlet and fling it onto the sidewalk. What's one more piece of trash?

Some temporary establishment had been set up at the precipice of the incident. Likely to assist all the would-be rescuers without an affinity for mobility. Although Lilith could probably use that...

Was she really going to pass up plunging into a bottomless ocean?

She perched at the edge of the island, resting on a lush patch of grass, legs daintily swinging off the abrupt drop.

There was no denying it. An oppressive, malignant force festered in the waters below. She tensed up as tingles of corruption teased along her skin. She deeply inhaled, tasting the brackish air.

I tried this once before, didn't I?

Except it was a concrete pavement instead of an endless expanse of blue.

It was so naive, thinking back on it. How could she think ridding herself of the curse would be so simple?

Somewhere, deep down, she wished the sea really did swallow her up, returning her to the lightless, thoughtless, formless void, floating forever. That place was her 'home', wasn't it?

And yet here she existed, in spite of natural order. A permanent mistake. A wound incapable of closing.

Melancholy washed over Lilith.

With a little shove from fate, the earth beneath her gave out, the wind whipping past her like thousands of tiny thorns.

For just the briefest moment, she entered a state of solemn clarity. Her errant mind no longer clouded by several lifetimes' worth of regret. She meditated on what she was going to do. It was far too late now; she'd already taken the leap. And yet, she was at peace with the inevitable. Maybe, somewhere out there in this whole wide universe, was a glimmer of hope.

If only it were that easy. Lilith's tranquil illusion slipped out of her mind's grasp, as she plummeted halfway from the colossal diving board. She couldn't help but feel the adrenaline coursing through, at the realization that she could finally let loose.

Giddy laughter bursted from her throat. Had she ever done something this fun in a while? Aside from the massacring. Just letting go, and giving up control to gravity.

As she crashed down from the sky, an object came closer and closer into view. She couldn't be sure of it from this distance, but it looked like she was on course to hull a small ship. Oh well. I guess I'm sinking someone early.

Flitting and twirling in the air, her body speared into the sea, upturning a plume of briney foam. She gently descended after the impact, embracing the depths, before surfacing next to a cobbled together mass of wood.

To Lilith's disappointment, she was not turned into a nasty red stain.

There were no supports she could use to climb up, but that was no matter. As she laid a hand on the bow, the water suddenly pulled her sideways, and she was no longer at the mercy of gravity.

Her feet naturally came to rest on the side of the ship, as she waltzed up perpendicular, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. As her form appeared from the railing, she swiveled to stand vertically. Then she hopped down, rocking the planked floor slightly.

"Sup hoes. God, I am soaked. I'm not late to the party, right?"
Sep 1, 2021
Click Here
"Who are-are you pe-people?!"
Juneberry gurgled and spat out another mouthful of seawater. Why was nobody on this blasted planet even remotely normal? Ignoring the -what, comet woman? Whatever, Juneberry fell out of the sky too, she wasn't special - Juno heaved up her metal propeller scrap onto the boat, clambering up, teeth chattering violently. Beyond not introducing themselves, they could've at least, dunno, helped them from drowning? Hypothermia? Juneberry had long learned what the public was like thanks to working retail, but Jove above, there had to be one soul on this stupid planet that had basic manners.
"Yes- ye-yes, I can drive a b-boat."

She wasn't lying through her teeth. She'd crafted boats with her father before, albeit powered by engines and solar power. But this... kid? Didn't need to know that. Wait, why was a kid here? Juneberry shrugged off her wings, numb fingers fumbling with the straps and nearly dropping them glass-first onto the ship. She shuddered. The plant inside was soaked deeply in saltwater, almost completely drained in the hypertonic water. She'd been there too long.

The fall from the sky actually hadn't hurt as bad as it should have. Her wings had sputtered to life here and there, on and off to catch her mid-fall. She'd spotted what looked like land in the mist. It was hard to tell - in this rain, she could only hope for the best and a safe landing. But what she'd thought was land was really a lad, and by lad it was some random beefcake of a man with an equally large chunky blade next to him that nearly took her ear clean off as she crash-landed in the ocean. "ARhghgghhhghgg," was all the warning she was able to cry out to the man before the shock overtook her, and she started sinking.

Somehow, she'd come to, clinging onto the driftwood. Zack, he'd said his name was. She'd had introduced herself back if it hadn't meant risking biting her own tongue off. Juneberry had felt each of her limbs seize in the water, growing stiff and slow... she could feel all the warmth draining out of her stick-thin body. Her hands ached against the metal, which she kept pressing against the pads of her fingertips to keep herself awake. The salt water was seeping slowly into the cuts and bruises she'd gotten from being battered in the storm.

They'd been floating just for a bit before the rain had started to let up. She'd been able to stop drifting into shocked unconsciousness, thanks to this Zack fellow. She'd just about worked up the energy to speak again when these... two... people, she guessed, made their entrance.

She turned and reached out a hand to Zack, though her whole body was shaking violently. She sneezed and drew her opposite hand across her nose. "C-C-C'mon," she coughed. "Ge-get in here."

Mickey Mouse

Level 6
Jul 28, 2018
Mesa Roja
Click Here
None yet!
The year following the Siege of Markov had not been especially kind to Doc McStuffins. After she’d been blasted out of the city in one of the last escape pods, a clear path had been laid out before her. As ridiculous as this might sound, she was now one of the premier experts on the Unmade in the entire Crossroads. She’d had no doubt that she would turn up at the door of the galaxy’s biggest bastions of science and be hailed, her contributions accepted gladly, and set this whole universe on the path toward defeating the Fade and, eventually, the Fallen Arbiter himself.

The clattering of the rolling food tray she pushed down the hallway quickly reminded her that hadn’t been the case. Instead of being heralded for the scientific genius she clearly was, she’d found herself stuck with no coin and no working ship in the midst of some of the most bigoted isolationists she’d ever met. Everyone in this hospital — no, the entire city — refused to even acknowledge the Unmade, let alone listen to her ramble on about them.

She pushed the tray cautiously into the room of her next patient, taking a look around. The girl stuck in this room had, unfortunately, become the victim of many a McStuffins rant, but the good Doc always stayed on the lookout for the other one. The patient’s bitchy guardian, often loitering in the room droning on about this story or that tale, content to just be incredibly snide to whichever doctor was on duty today.

Luckily… she was gone, today.

McStuffins slid the food tray up next to the maimed teenager’s bedside. “Hey there, girl,” the young girl sighed, sliding onto the rolling stool. “Looking a little better! How ya feeling?!”

“Hmfgbjklmyto,” the angsty, angry girl muttered furiously — but alas, unintelligibly — through her face bandages. McStuffins simply nodded.

“Yep,” she agreed blindly, “them’s the breaks, I guess. So—”

The Doc’s mouth opened to launch into yet another tirade about how nobody listened to her and the Unmade were just definitely, absolutely going to make a move on this stupid-ass planet any day now, when someone broke in to deliver the most fateful news.

“Doc,” an orderly piped up from the doorway. “Doc, there’s been an attack.”

McStuffins whirled around. “An attack? In the City of Hope?” Her surprise was genuine; annoying as this place was, she’d surmised their defenses were pretty stellar. Fear of the surface-dwellers, she supposed.

“Yes, Doc,” the orderly nodded. “A suburb called Nausicaa. Doc, people are saying it’s… it’s… that it might be them.”

The Doc’s face flashed with confusion, then horror. So today’s the day, then?

“And Doc… you’ve been asked for personally.”


“We’re going down!!”

Those were the last, foreboding words Doc McStuffins heard as the medical transport ferrying a bunch of City of Hope doctors and nurses careened towards the sinking island. She flew out of her seat as the hovercraft spun through the air, face slamming into a window just in time to catch a glimpse of their bird’s smoking tail. Down below, a myriad of actual ships — the surface dwellers, no doubt — gathered just outside the range of the huge tentacles slowly engulfing Nausicaa, but their craft hadn’t been so lucky.

McStuffins had known things were going south the minute she noticed the perimeter the surface dwellers had started to set up. She’d thought to warn them about the tentacles, try and get them back out of range. Maybe they could land safely on a huge pirate ship, or on that quirky gray steamboat over there, and link up with those vessels’ pilots. Form a plan, form a team, digest the situation, figure out what was going on and then figure out what to do next.

As usual, she’d been scoffed off. They wanted her here for her expertise on the Unmade’s biology, not for her tactical prowess. Admittedly, very little of her experience trended in that direction… but she’d been one of the masterminds behind the final assault on the Fade, dammit!

There was a loud ‘CRASH!’, and suddenly they weren’t going down — they were down.

McStuffins blinked. Where once she’d been surrounded by the protective hull of her medicarrier, now she lay flat on one of the cobblestone streets of Nausicaa, several meters separated from the remains of her ride and the rubble of the building it had crashed into. She pushed herself up, struggling to get to her feet.

Well, she might not be able to evacuate anyone… but she could help people until another avenue for escape arrived.

My tools, she thought frantically to herself, still… in… ship?

Knowing she didn’t have much time to think, she stalked forward as fast as her aching body could take her, hurrying towards the wreckage. They’d been sent to help people here, to rescue them or at least bandage them up. She’d been brought to share what knowledge she could of the Unmade… and failing that, she’d fight tooth and nail to make sure they hurt as few people as humanly possible.

She was so focused on her slow journey to fetch her tools that she hardly noticed the creeping creaking echoing from the alleyway just behind where the medicarrier had crash landed, and so was caught completely off-guard when a parademon burst from the rubble.

She stumbled back, falling onto her butt as the humongous thrall of Darkseid lurched out of the wreckage of her ship. It stared her down with red-goggled eyes glowing menacingly. She thought it might be about to lick its lips, but then — she didn’t know if it possessed a tongue. Or, for that matter, if the crusty skin around its mouth qualified as lips.

She dug around in her lab coat, pulling out the blaster pistol one of their military escorts had shoved into her hand before she’d boarded the flight. Trembling, she lifted it and tried to steady her aim.

This isn’t going to fucking work, she cursed as the parademon lifted its huge laser gun.

Green energy collected at the tip, forming slowly into a supercharged blast — and then the bitch pulled the trigger, and Doc McStuffins closed her eyes and said her prayers.

It was amazing how quickly those prayers got answered.

Woosh, blam!

The noises echoed out in front of her as the emerald death beam crashed into something. Her eyes popped back open, watching as a creature not much bigger than she lifted a huge, Grecian-looking shield before his face, grunting and digging his heels in as he worked to defend her from the parademon’s onslaught.

She blinked again, watching as the beam slowly dissipated. When it was fully gone, her diminutive savior lowered his buckler and flared up at his gargantuan foe.

“Not so fast, pal,” Mickey Mouse scowled. He glanced back at McStuffins over his shoulder. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Uh — the sky?” she answered amazedly.

“Oh, brother! No, it’s you!” he scolded, reverting his gaze to the parademon. “Get up and run. These jokers mean business!”

Doc McStuffins wasted no time in following the mouse king’s orders, scrambling to her feet and bolting down the cobblestone street to try to find shelter, or a better place to help from. Once she’d gone, Mickey narrowed his focus. Bright white energy swirled around his gloved fists as the Counter Shield transformed back into his old faithful — the Star Seeker keyblade — and he lowered himself into a fighting stance.

“Okay, fella,” he smirked. “Let’s dance.”

Roy Mustang

probably plotting something
Level 6
Level 5
Aug 1, 2018
Click Here
Cytokine Industries
Mustang stared at the map with a frown as the ship neared Oplean’s atmosphere. An island this size, and they had to evacuate it near blind? Damn Hopers thought they were invincible, and now their people were going to pay the price for it.

“It looks bad, Lieutenant Colonel.” Lieutenant Hawkeye said from the adjacent seat. “We have little intel on how the unmaking is impacting Oplean at all, let alone any reports of an attack on this scale. If they’ve been experiencing trouble like this they’ve been good at hiding it from the rest of us.”

Mustang put a hand to his chin in thought.
“No, this wasn’t something they were expecting.” He decided, “Within hours of the Markovian attack the Medium had gotten wind of things to the point that our people were organizing without us. New Hope is egotistical, but they don’t have the kind of control that we do in Markov. If they were hiding something it would have come out long before now.”

“Entering upper atmosphere!” Master Sergeant Fuery called back from the co-pilot of the Mako, “We’ll be dropping in five!”

“Understood.” Mustang glanced up with a nod, “Any news on the status of the island?”

“There’s all kinds of strange chatter, sir. From what we can tell, several people have responded to the call. Nobody that I recognize from the Siege, Sir.”

Just like in Markov’s defense… Mustang frowned, There ARE people who will fight the Unmaking, how do we do it successfully before they all vanish again?

He stared at the map once more, rapidly considering the options for his strike team. They’d mobilized along with Sgt. Swift, but Cevanti had not committed troops in number. Hell, Mustang hadn’t even mobilized more than a squad of his own men. The Unmaking was a calculated threat disguised as mindless destruction. They needed to keep every able body at the ready in case Markov came under assault while the Crossroads was distracted here. They’d have whatever sham of a military the Hopers had cobbled together and the whims of the Crossroads wanderers, that would be it.

Damn. He would have to make it work.

“Priority one is establishing a beachhead.” Mustang stated. “I don’t see a way that we will be saving this whole island, unless the hopers have a hell of a lot more firepower than they’ve let on. We need a perimetered safe zone for mass evacuations. A secure location with air access, ideally away from the edges of the…”

“There.” Hawkeye pointed to a spot on the map. “Old church, stone structure, with a sizable graveyard they haven’t filled in yet. It’s even got hedges on two sides.”

“Perfect.” Mustang nodded in agreement. “We establish there, and hold back the Unmaking so that people can get off of the rock before the whole damn place collapses on our heads.”

“Two minutes to drop, Sir!” Fuery called back.

“Target the yard outside the building at these coordinates.” Mustang responded “Range Three thirty-seven, Theta sixty five. Shouldn’t be many people there.”

Fuery gave a nervous chuckle. “We’ll try, sir. These M35s aren’t really aimed for precision landings, to be honest. Personally I’m just hoping we don’t end up in the drink!”

“Then do the best you can.” Mustang responded immediately, eyes still focused on the map, “What sort of enemy forces are we expecting?”

“Aside from the more evident tentacles?” Hawkeye lifted up a report from the edge of the table, “a lot of the same things we’ve documented back home.”
“Nausicaa is populated enough that it’s fauna are limited, but the plants seem to be causing them problems. Also…” She furrowed her brow slightly, “More creatures like the pair we encountered in the abandoned sector.”

Mustang glanced up catching her eye with a frown. It seemed those things weren’t the oddity they had been hoping.

“ They’re being referred to as Parademons it seems.”

Mustang stared back down at the map. His hand itched, he wanted to drop directly into the bulk of the enemy, burn them to ashes before they even knew what was happening… Hit them first for once, instead of constantly scrambling to defend. He exhaled.

“Understood, we’ll keep an eye out for aerial attackers during the evacuation.”

“Dropping in ten! Nine!” Fuery called back, and the Cevanti soldier settled back from the table. Mustang strapped into the Mako’s seating harness, hands braced in the grips as the countdown neared zero.


The M35 Mako rolled out of the shuttle bay snout-nose first, free-falling through the middle atmosphere of Oplean towards the island. It was by design a reconnaissance vehicle, equipped to make landfall independent of the larger transport. Plated shielding absorbed much of the re-entry heating, as the vertical thrusters engaged behind it’s wheels. It’s fall didn’t stop by any means, but the large vehicle leveled out, speed being shed as much as possible as it streaked downwards.

It landed with a significant impact even so, the frame of the vehicle descending a few more feet as the massive wheel's suspension ate yet more of the entry momentum. It bounced more than once, translating still more energy into horizontal movement as it rolled forwards into the street a half-block away from the church.

Mustang rushed down the access ramp as soon as the vehicle stopped, ignition cloth glove already on as he stepped out, ready for attack. Hawkeye was down the ramp seconds after, taking position at his six, but the street appeared empty of attackers. Or civilians for that matter. His squad of eight filed out behind him, leaving Fuery and the pilot to maneuver the Mako down the street with them.

“Stay alert,” Mustang waved a hand towards his men, “Form up around the vehicle until we know where the front is. Be ready for an ambush.”

The spread into a wary arc around the front of the Mako, weapons at the ready. Mustang stode forwards, his black overcoat flowing in the sea air. It was too easy, they would reach the church without any sizable resistance. That had been the hardest part of the plan. Once they had the position, they just needed to hold it. He almost found himself wanting something to try to stop their progress. He grit his teeth, chasing the thought away. There would be time for that, right now this was about an effective evacuation.

Something was making a ruckus down the street though, a strange warbling from one of the alleys up ahead. He could hear it distinctly over the vague mud of sounds of disaster that suffused the area. Frowning he broke off from the formation, with Lieutenant Hawkeye in tow. They moved to the side of the street closer to the sound. The buildings here were undamaged, but silent, dark and empty… Mustang stepped up to the lip of the alleyway, His back to the wall as Hawkeye dropped into a crouch, handgun at the ready. Together they peered around the building’s edge.

Not ten feet into the alley, stooped a gnarled white creature. It was feathered, appearing not unlike the birds that some of the aerial zoids of cevanti were based upon, or perhaps one of their nautical cousins. It was too large to be airborne naturally, and the wings and legs looked twisted and wrong. It chortled to itself in a disturbing sound akin to amusement as it picked at the corpse of some poor refugee.

“Unmade sighted!” Mustang called back to his group.

“Lieuten-” Hawkeye began as Mustang stepped into the alleyway fully, confronting the Unmade avian. It faced away from him, but craned it’s neck up and backwards as he approached, staring at him with an upside-down face, large beak reddened with blood. It turned about, abandoning the corpse and began its strange mocking, angry laughter. Mustang raised his gloved hand as the squawking creature began to beat its wings furiously in an effort to close the distance.


A struggling wisp of flame swept out around his upraised fingers, dissipating into the air almost immediately. His eyes widened as the ravenous gull barreled towards him. He barely registered as Hawkeye swept his feet out from under him, pulling his face away from the bloody talons that swept across the space where his face had been seconds before.

Hawkeye planted her stance, and fired four shots into the unmade gull as it entered the street at large. The bird crashed into the street in a heap, loose and sickly feathers flying off of it as it tumbled to a stop, angry laughter dying in its throat as it bled.

“This island is at the literal sea level right now.” Hawkeye stated matter-of-factly. Glancing towards Mustang as she changed the clip on her gun. “This may as well be a beach, sir.”

“I should be so lucky...” Mustang grumbled, rubbing his head where it had smacked against the street, “A beach would at least have prettier sights than that thing.”

He ignored Hawkeye’s unamused look, moving towards the rest of the squad. “You two, recover the body in that alley, but keep alert for more of these things!”

A pair of his men saluted, heading to the alley that poor fool had tried to flee down.

“Everyone else keep on the move, we’re almost to the target, then we can start to get people away from this dank heap of rock before we’re all spitting water!”


Frosty X
Apr 24, 2020
Erde Nona
Click Here
Dan Cygnetti had really only wanted a damn bagel for lunch. He didn't get time to go down to the local shops from his metal working shift very often, and people had been raving about that damn bakery for months. Figures that, on the one day he would have an opportunity to try something small, the whole damn neighborhood got yanked down to surface level. He peered around the corner at the mostly silent, robotic savior of their group and sneered as it cleaved a thrashing conglomeration of corpses and tropical flowers into bits. Desecrated flesh and overly-vivid petals scattered across the pavement in a frozen shower of gore as Kopaka turned around and leered at their little flock.

"The fiend is vanquished. Rally to me." the thing buzzed. It promptly turned on its foot and began to stalk down the open roadway. They had steadily been making their way to higher ground to try and escape the ever encroaching waves, and by the looks of it, that's where the only rides out of here had been landing.

"Whatever you say, clanker." Dan snorted. He smoothed out his red, oil stained shirt and slinked after the robotic warrior. Jackie, Mike and the two Ritos followed after. Ilsenni in particular was starting to get on Dan's nerves.

"You should be more thankful; Kopaka saved our lives." she said with a disdainful sneer. Dan gave her a rude gesture in return. Everything was fucked; why should he have to put up with these stupid beakheads too?

They approached another small outcropping of buildings at the crest of the hill, and Kopaka took a moment to run an X-Ray scan of the premises. While he did this, Jackie took stock of the view. High above them, the City of Hope loomed like a black, impermeable cloud. She could see lots of emergency lights and activity along the city perimeter from down here, but it looked like they were bolstering their defenses rather than mounting a rescue.

"Lost cause huh?" she swallowed. The view around the island wasn't any better. Various surface dweller boats were holding off the edges of Nausicaa, perhaps hoping in vain to pick up people fleeing the island. There were also dozens of thick, black plumes of smoke from around the neighborhood, despite the ocean swallowing up the doomed suburb. The initial impact of the fall had almost leveled all of the utilities, and most of the taller buildings. She wasn't sure what sheer luck it was that had allowed the bakery to survive, but apparently they were a very rare edge case.

"All deceased. Let us go." Kopaka breathed after concluding his scan. Ilsenni quietly urged Nestal forward, past the crumbled housing block, trying not to look at the bloody red sprays coating the interiors of the distant windows. As they continued uphill, another rescue carrier descended down on the island, only to get smacked by an errant tentacle. The wounded flyer lurched in midair and wheeled sideways before thudding into the ground somewhere just behind the next row of trees. The Toa immediately sprang into action.

"Stay close." he called, even as he vaulted over ruined cars and dilapidated retainer walls. The Kanohi Akaku was working at full power, cutting through the dense foliage scanning for the wreck site of the evacuation vehicle. The equipment and interiors seemed mostly intact, and it wasn't long before the Toa located one of the now stranded evacuation volunteers. The female human had taken cover behind a small, mostly intact concrete shed and was nervously peering towards the landing site. She whipped around as Kopaka trudged towards her, and pointed some type of energy weapon towards him.

The gyro shield immediately began spinning, but Kopaka sheathed his ice sword to hold up a hand.

"I come to help. Name yourself." the biomech barked.

"Doc...Doctor McStuffins." the woman mumbled, lowering her weapon. Kopaka nodded.

"Doctor. Good. I have five souls with me. See to them." he ordered. Sure enough, the capable manager of Mike's Muffins and More had lead his four other survivors to where Kopaka and Doc McStuffins stood. Dan, Jackie and the two Ritos all looked at the young nurse expectantly, and she immediately knew that she was incredibly over her head.

"Just...five though?" she coughed slightly, rising to her feet.

"Many perished in the initial impact. I will broaden my search. If you have contact with others of your team, please take these five to them." Kopaka responded. Again, Doc wasn't entirely sure that she was exactly in the same sinking boat as the five patients now under her care.

"I...will. But it's not really safe around here at the moment?" Doc shrugged. Kopaka's attention snapped upwards as a rumble of tectonic thunder rumbled through the ground. The smoke around the crash site pulsed and was buffeted away by a shockwave of force, the origin of which was a blast of green light. At the epicenter stood Mickey Mouse, shielding himself from a smoldering blast of plasma. A hulking, grey skinned monstrosity loomed over the tiny warrior, preparing to followup on its opponent's harried defense.

The Toa spared no more words for the evacuees and their new warden. He immediately vaulted over the small concrete divider and sprinted towards the combat.

"We should...get outta here." Mike said plainly. The rest of the group was in full agreement, except for the young Rito boy.

"No, wait! I wanna watch Kopaka kick ass!" he cried.

"Nestal!" snapped his mother.

Meanwhile, Mickey Mouse stared up at the Parademon with vexed, but optimistic defiance. After all, he'd handled one of these clowns before hadn't he? Although, he had gotten a bit of help from his good buddy Blues. Well maybe a lot of help...but he was the King after all! A lot had happened since then, and surely he could give this buster a run for his money.

"What an honor...that I should be the one to silence you, rodent." the parademon hooted. Mickey quirked an eyebrow. Had these things always been able to talk? The two warriors circled around the shattered, concrete clearing as the billowing sea wind drove sheets of inky smoke between them.

"You wish, pal! You tell your boss that it's time to pack up and leave these folks alone, now that I'm here." Mickey retorted. The parademon shuddered with sadistic glee, and a ripple of barbed scales flashed up and down its flank.

"Forestall the inevitable, if it pleases you. We-" the demon began to retort, but it piqued its head up slightly. Apparently it had noticed something approaching from behind Mickey. The King of Pals almost tripped over his tail ducking as a pillar of icy blue power rocketed past, right in front of his nose. There was a flash of light, and a shining metallic figure leaped nearly twenty feet in the air, descending straight towards the parademon's face. The brute screeched in fury and parried the interloper down into the dirt with a cacophonous bang.

Kopaka was back on his feet in an instant, crouched down in a fully guarded stance. The gyroscopic shield was screaming, and every inch of the Toa's armored body was frosted over with elemental power. He glanced back at Mickey, and the Mouse King had to instinctively swallow the memories that flooded in. That feeling of being hunted...Coruscant...the snowstorm outside his clubhouse...wondering if Minnie was safe...

This was a different Kopaka, right? Well, if nothing else, he apparently wasn't interested in wasting time.

The bionicle turned his focus back towards the parademon, and deflected a swipe from its rattling, cruel claws. Kopaka brought his sword up in a heavy, chopping swing. Under different circumstances, it may have been trivial for Darkseid's spawn to evade the heavy power stroke, but as it was, its right foot was frozen to the ground. Kopaka's blade crunched into the marauder's armor in a shower of sparks, prompting the demon to wrench its foot free before taking to the air. A series of emerald plasma blasts rained into the ground around Kopaka, who huddled behind his whining shield.

"My blade cannot breach its armor. We must fight in tandem." Kopaka called out to Mickey as he continuously fended off bursts from the strafing monstrosity.

"Good to see you too, buddy! I still owe you a story, huh?" Mickey chuckled. He pranced out of the way as the parademon arced over into a power dive, and raked its claws along the ground.

"Later. Can you wound the fiend?" Kopaka insisted.

Mickey gave the curt android a coy smile.

"Sure can! Think you can get him stuck again?"

Kopaka nodded, and reached towards the sky. A wisp of swirling, icy power began to condense around his arm as he prepared a fully charged glacier blast. His attack would require perfect timing, and would be difficult to aim. Luckily, the parademon was bloodthirsty and arrogant.

Patience...wait for the perfect moment...


Well-known member
Aug 6, 2018
Click Here
Leonardo breathed in deeply, calmly, as he stirred. Early morning light washed over his face, rousing him from his sleep. He sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. The cold concrete floor of the warehouse had soothed his aching muscles, though where he had been stuck with a needle the day previous still hurt whenever he bent his elbow. Even so, he was in fine shape for what they were planning to do next.

The warehouse was missing a large section of its far wall, having been decimated by the turtle droids yesterday. It exposed them more to the elements and to potential thieves, so one of them had always been posted for watch duty, and they rotated through the night. Raphael and Michelangelo still dozed – Mikey snoring and mumbling in his sleep – as Donatello had taken the last shift.

Leonardo raised concern that Walter Peal and his thugs would be scouring the city for them. Donatello convinced him that the threat was neutralised, at least for now. And it seemed he was right. Even with all his brothers back together, Leonardo found it hard to just... let go and calm down. Maybe that was the cause – how could he stand losing them after they had just reunited?

Yet it seemed his brainy brother was right. Donatello sat on a cracked wooden box, typing away at a laptop perched on a larger box. The computer screen light projected onto his face as he worked at his craft. A rusted folding table was positioned nearby, holding a stick with computer parts attached to it in several places and a lens at either end. Wires inserted into the device and into the laptop.

Leonardo stood and strode over to Donatello. He didn’t like this idea. Sure, they had agreed that they had to respond to the distress signal, but using that teleportation stick again? It was the whole reason they had ended up in this strange world in the first place!

“Yes, I’m sure, Leo,” Donatello said, pre-empting his brother’s question. “It’s not going to fail again.”

“If you can get it to work, why can’t you just teleport us back to our dimension?” Leonardo said.

“Because,” Donatello said, focused on the diagnostics on his screen, “it won’t get a lock on Earth. I don’t know why. Maybe we’re too far away, maybe there’s some sort of energy or disturbance blocking it – all I know is this device that got us here isn’t our ticket to getting back home. Besides, we haven’t found Master Splinter yet.”

Leonardo felt like an arrow stabbed through his chest. He hated thinking about Master Splinter. They still had no idea where he was, and Donatello’s mutant tracking program only worked on them as far as they could tell, unless Splinter wasn’t even on the planet.

But then, where else would he be? Was he on another planet? Was he in Markov, only he was injured, or captured, and couldn’t get a message-

Stop, Leonardo said to himself. You’re spiralling. Focus on the people who need our help first. It’s what Master Splinter would have – would want.

“So, how’s the teleporty thingy-mabob going Donnie?” Michelangelo said, suddenly appearing by Leonardo’s side. Was he that lost in thought he didn’t notice his loud-mouth brother approaching?

Raphael finally climbed to his feet and walked over. He was scowling – not unusual for Raphael – but it was deeper, more pronounced. He hadn’t taken to the rescue mission plan very readily. Raphael wanted to find Master Splinter first and then offer what assistance they could to Opealon. While part of Leonardo fully understood – and firmly agreed – with his stance, he knew deep down they couldn’t let innocent people suffer when they could help alleviate that.

Besides, Leonardo had been searching for Splinter for months and discovered nothing. He may not have even arrived yet – while they had all teleported from the Turtle Prime universe together, none of them had arrived simultaneously. Hell, Michaelangelo only turned up yesterday.

Even so, Raphael rarely let sense and logic drive his decisions, especially if strong emotions had overridden them in the first place.

“Good, just running a few final tests,” Donatello replied, standing from his uncomfortable crate and stretching. “I hope everyone is ready. I heard about the Unmade creatures that attacked Markov a while back. I was too involved in my... previous work to do much about it, but from what I know about them, they aren’t pushovers.”

“Fine by me,” Raphael said, punching his palm. “I got a lotta aggression to work out.”

“Raph, I just wanted to say-“

“No, Leo,” Raphael said in a deflated tone. “You’re right. We gotta help people who need us. It’s who Master Splinter taught us to be.”

Leonardo rested a hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “We’ll find him, Raph. I promise.”

Raphael shrugged him off. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Leonardo sighed. That’s just how Raphael was. He would come around.

Donatello cleared his throat awkwardly. “OK gang, the teleporter stick is ready for operation!”

“Woo hoo!” Michelangelo hollered, throwing an arm over Donatello and Leonardo. “Let’s go!”

Raphael took his place beside Leonardo. Donatello hit the button on the device’s side and a bright beam of light shot into the sky. It expanded outwards like an umbrella and eventually consumed all four of them.

Leonardo closed his eyes against the shine, unable to bear it. His body grew lighter, as if he was about to float off the ground.

Then sudden weight returned and he noticed a sizeable shift in his location. He opened his eyes.

Gargantuan, writhing tentacles framed the clear sky above. They shimmered with an otherworldly violet energy.

They weren’t in Markov anymore.

Leonardo instantly looked to either side of him and took a sigh of relief. His brothers stood beside him, looking around at their surroundings agape. At least Donatello was right about the teleportation process this time.

With his brothers firmly at his side, Leonardo assessed their new environment. They stood at the intersection of four cobblestone streets with immaculately designed and resourced buildings on each corner. Thin indigo fog hung motionlessly in the streets in isolated pockets, like some gaseous corruption. There was essentially no life around them, nor any signs that there ever had been aside from discarded shoes and jackets, and drying stains of blood on the cobblestones.

“Uh, guys?” Michelangelo said, glancing down each street. “Are we too late?”

“Donnie? Any clue about what’s going on?” Leonardo asked.

“Maybe we’re in an evacuated zone,” Donatello suggested. “Maybe the citizens are hiding in a bunker or something?”

“Then we should try and find them,” Leonardo said. “There must be other people out there spearheading a recovery effort.”

“Hard to know which way to go,” Raphael said, hands on hips. “Nothin’ pointin’ us in any direction right now.”

Michelangelo cupped a hand to the side of his head. “I can’t hear anything. You’d think we’d be hearing some screaming or giant monsters stomping around or something.” He shook his head. “Tsk tsk. These Unmade have never watched a good horror movie before.”

“Somethin’ tells me they ain’t here to entertain,” Raphael said, sneering.

Michelangelo was right. How could they know which way to head? Did they split up and search each road until they found someone to help? But that was risky in unfamiliar terrain with a merciless and virtually unknown enemy.

“Hey! Anyone!” Michelangelo suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs. “We’re here to help you! Is anyone nearby that needs our help?”

Raphael grimaced and slapped Michelangelo in the back of the head. “You idiot! You’re supposed to be a ninja! You know, quiet and stealthy?”

“Ow!” Michelangelo whined, rubbing his head. “What else are we supposed to do?”

Leonardo was about to respond when a faint buzzing stilled his tongue. “Wait, guys... do you hear that?”

The ninja turtles cocked an eye and craned their necks towards the new sound. The buzzing intensified. Soon Leonardo made out black specks approaching them at a fantastic speed.

“The hell are those?” Raphael asked.

As they neared the turtles, their features came into view. Large, mutated insects raced towards them, snapping mandibles that could easily dismember them. They all represented a range of creatures, from flies and bees to ants and beetles, but about the size of a large dog, and twisted into hideous, lethal monsters, their carapaces broken and punctured by protruding spikes.

A number of ants scampered through the eerie purple fog and instantly collapsed. Leonardo recoiled in horror at the toxicity of the gas, until he saw the fallen bugs writhe and contort where they had fallen. New sets of legs burst from their abdomens, ending in vicious curved claws. A viscous green enzyme leaked from their mandibles and dissolved the cobblestone beneath them. As the mutations completed, they pushed themselves upright again in a creepy, unnatural rhythm, and burst forward at twice their original speed.

“Aw man, the one day I don’t bring the bug spray,” Michelangelo said.

“OK, no one go breathing that gas unless you want to be more mutated!” Donatello said, whipping out his bo staff.

“Good one Mikey!” Raphael grumbled, grasping both sais in hand. “You just had to open your big trap!”

“Hey, at least we know not to go near that icky purple gas!” Michelangelo said, spinning his nunchucks in preparation for the fight.

“Oh, you needed a giant bug to collapse in it to tell ya that?” Raphael bit back.

“Enough, guys,” Leonardo said, unsheathing his ninjaken blades and bending slightly at the knees, readying for battle. “These things look like they mean business. Don’t take them lightly!”

The buzzing of insect wings soon drowned out any possibility for communication. Leonardo sharpened his eyes, retightened his grip on his blade handles, and waited for the opportunity to strike.

Dr. McNinja

Kills with one hand, heals with the other
Level 6
Level 5
Jul 31, 2018
Erde Nona
Click Here

“Open wide,” Doc said.

Sitting on the medical bed was an overweight man named Trevor Phillips. Not that Doc was judging him! However, it was worth noting. The patient was here to ask about his self-diagnosis of diabetes which, looking at the blood sample that his new secretary/nurse drew, simply wasn’t the case. Mr. Phillips had stated that his teeth were aching, which “is a well-known symptom of Type II diabetes” (untrue). But pain is pain, and Doc had to see what the true cause of the aching was.

Nobody particularly interesting had come in since the adventure with the Pellbrooks a week and a half ago. Peter was adjusting quite well to the secretary work, and was an adept nurse. It sure helped that he was able to magically heal cuts and bruises. Doc would be worried that Peter was more useful than him if not for the fact that Peter couldn’t heal diseases, only wounds.

Of course, the fact that he was a vampire tended to turn people away, but they were visiting a clinic run by man named Dr. McNinja. Most knew this was going to be weird.

But some were absolute morons. Mr. Phillips opened his absolutely rancid maw, revealing teeth that clearly were not getting washed. His gums were swollen even before Doc had prodded them, and frankly, Doc didn’t even need X-rays to see what the problem was here.

“How often do you brush your teeth, Mr. Phillips?” Doc asked.

“Erry day,” Mr. Phillips lied.

“Do you floss?”


“Mm,” Doc said, leaning back. Somehow that horrid stench was going through his mask. “Well, as far as I can tell, while you are at risk for diabetes, the crux of the problem here is your cavities. I can start treating-“

“Cavities?” Mr. Phillips protested, “You don’t understand. The problem isn’t in my teeth. I have diabetes.”

Dr. McNinja squinted. “Sir, I’m a trained medical professional. I can tell the difference between diabetes and, erm, improvable dental hygiene.”

There was a knock on the door. Doc turned to see Peter opening the door, but refusing to enter. He was holding Doc’s cell phone, but seemed reluctant to actually hand it to Doc.

“Call for you,” Peter said, “Seems urgent.”

Doc rolled his eyes. “Dude, you live here. You don’t need my permission to enter every room.”

“Right,” Peter said, stepping inside and handing the cell to Doc, “Sorry.”

Dr. McNinja put the phone to his ear. “Dr. McNinja speaking. May I ask about the nature of your emergency?”

“Dr. McNinja,” a deep voice replied, “Vampires are going to sink the City of Hope!”

Doc raised an eyebrow. “Who is this, and what?”

“The Opealon government refuses to take action, but I won’t stand by,” the man said, “There are vampires prowling around the City of Hope. They’re going to sink it into the ocean.”

Doc squinted. “…okay?”

“I heard about what you did with that vampire wizard two weeks ago,” the mysterious caller continued, “And I know you can save the city.”

“This seems like an issue for the authorities.”

“They won’t listen,” the man said, “They think I’m CRAZY. But I’m not crazy. Vampires are going to sink our city into the sea and turn us into zombies! I saw a vampire almost twenty feet tall in a vision-”

Doc promptly hung up the call, and blocked the number. He tossed the cell back to Peter. “Remind me to teach you how to screen some of these crazy people.”

“He was crazy?” Peter said.

“Talking about vampires sinking flying cities,” Doc sighed, “Anyway, Mr. Phillips, I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do. I’m going to refer you to some good dentists in the city.”

Peter frowned. “I thought you did dentist work-“

“That means we’re all done here!’ Doc interrupted, “You’re free to leave.”

“But I have diabeeeetes,” Mr. Phillips whined.

“Cavities,” Doc corrected as he pushed him out of the clinic. Mr. Phillips dejectedly walked away. Doc turned to Peter. “That was the last appointment for the morning, right? What do you want to do for lunch?”

Peter gave him an unamused glare as he sipped from the straw poking out of his blood bag. Doc chuckled and stretched. God, he’d kill for something exciting to happen.



I need to watch what I wish for, Doc thought to himself as he watched the news on a small TV. He and Peter were in the kitchen. It was a slow day, which Doc figured meant he could relax. Clearly not.

“We’re about ten miles from the city,” the reporter in the helicopter shouted over the rotor, “It’s… hard to believe what we’re seeing here.”

The camera was shaky and hard to decipher, but that was understandable; the cameraperson was in a helicopter in a war zone. The opulent floating island was careening to the side as colossal tentacles writhed around it, each sucker in the tentacle the size of a truck. The whole island was being dragged into the ocean.

Peter looked at Doc, frightened. “What the hell is that?”

“Not vampires,” Doc shrugged, eyes still stuck to the horror on the screen. “But I guess our mystery caller had a point.”

Peter frowned and took another sip from his blood bag. Dr. McNinja rubbed his eyes.

“Well, nothing I can do about it, now,” Doc sighed, “Let’s clean up and meet some more-“

“Can’t you help them?” Peter mumbled.

Doc looked at him, eyes wide. He pointed at the tentacle monstrosity. “Against THAT?! Hell no.”

The reporter was speaking again. “We are now getting word from the authorities. They’ve sent out a distress call for any fighters to help in the rescue effort. The Unmaking is a threat to the entire Crossroads and anyone’s assistance would help save lives.”

Doc glared at the news. Peter shrugged. “I mean, you’re really good at fighting. Even if you can’t stop it by yourself, maybe you could-“

“I’m not fighting an evil god, Peter,” Doc snapped, “I am a doctor. That little jaunt with your family was an exception.”

“Maybe they need doctors!” Peter argued, “People are gonna be hurt! Maybe like a Doctors Without Borders thing!”

“Please, I’m sure they’re fine,” Doc lied.

“We are now getting word from sources saying that medical transports will be flying from various worlds to help the cause,” the reporter continued, “They are calling for any doctors that could go to the City of Hope to help with evacuation and medical support.”

Peter gestured at the TV. Doc rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, they’re just saying that. What could I do to help-“

“Authorities are saying that literally ANYONE with medical knowledge can help,” the reporter continued, “Especially if the medical professional in question has combat training!”

Doc glared at the screen. “Whatever. The Erde Nona one probably already took off-“

“We are receiving word that Erde Nona has just begun to mobilize its medical transports-“

“Well,” Doc snapped at the reporter, “They’re probably full now!”

“-but there is a shortage of volunteers from Erde Nona, especially those with combat experience!”

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Doc muttered, flicking the remote. The TV shut off, prompting Peter to glare at him.

Peter leaned forward. “I thought you cared about people.”

“I do!” Doc snapped, “But I’m out of my league here. That’s an insane thing happening there! I can’t handle that. How could I possibly help?”

Peter walked up to the TV and manually turned the TV on again. The reporter had a desperate expression on her face as she continued to speak.

“They are calling for ANY DOCTORS. They have ONE SPOT OPEN and they say they are REFUSING TO LEAVE UNLESS THAT SPOT IS FILLED-“

“Alright, fine!” Doc shouted, thoroughly frustrated, prompting Peter to smile, “Hold down the fort and cancel all my appointments this week. I guess I’ll go fight an evil god.”


The medicarrier groaned as it tried to navigate the turbulence in the sky. The attack was apparently cosmic enough that even the sky was rumbling like an earthquake. Doc gripped his temples, incredibly stressed.

Next to him sat a dinosaur.

Well, maybe that’s an offensive thing to say. Fact was, he was a mostly humanoid person. In fact, if you couldn’t see his face, Doc would say there was little to differentiate him from a man with a large build. However, his skin was definitely unusual. He had the head of a triceratops, with the eyes placed on the front like a human’s would be. Truth be told, Doc was reminded heavily of one of the Triceratops people from the Radical Lands. Ugh. Bad memories.

“Hey, do you see that little girl?” the reptilian doctor next to McNinja whispered, leaning over.

Doc looked at the girl in question. There was a small child in one of the seats, no older than 12. Doc frowned.

“What’s she doing on the transport?” the doctor said.

Doc shrugged. “I dunno, man. You’re a dinosaur, I’m a ninja, she’s a little girl. We’re all weird here.”

The doctor looked back at him, his eyes full of hurt. Doc sighed.

“Sorry,” McNinja said, “I’ve been feeling cranky. What’s your name?”

The triceratops doctor cleared his throat. “I’m Dr. Hans Leon. And you?”

“I’m Dr. McNin-“

Doc was interrupted by the screech of claws scraping against metal. The noise traveled from the aft of the hovercraft to the fore. It was followed by another screech, this time more guttural. Doc scowled as the hovercraft lurched hard to the right. Something just exploded.

“What the hell was that?” Dr. Leon said.

“WE’RE GOING DOWN!” the pilot shouted.

Doc snapped back to attention, peeking out the window. While he was socializing with Dr. Leon, dozens of insect demons had surrounded them. They had taken notice of the medicarrier, and were taking great efforts to tear it apart. Doc took off the seat belt and made his way to the front of the hovercraft.

“Are there weapons on this thing?” Doc shouted.

“It’s a medicarrier!” the pilot hollered back, trying to keep the ship in the air, “It has sirens!”

The next thing Doc remembered was the ship cracking in half. The insect demons were ripping it apart in mid-air. Doc couldn’t help but mentally compare it to an egg cracking, if the egg was filled with tiny little flailing ants. In the shock of it all, Doc couldn’t even hear the passengers scream.

As the front half started tumbling loosely in the air, Doc felt his body lift off the ground. How foolish it was to take off the seat belt right when the aircraft was starting to go down.

Dr. McNinja grunted and flung his grappling hook at Dr. Leon’s seat, making it catch onto the harness that was keeping the doctor in place. Dr. Leon, on his part, stopped screaming and started pulling the cable as Doc climbed it.

“Thanks!” Doc shouted over the falling air, then clambered over to the parachutes. There were only three other doctors here besides himself, including the pilot.

And four parachutes. Figures.

The other two doctors snatched their parachutes from Doc’s hands. Doc wasn’t even know how helpful those were gonna be at this height, but whatever, let them handle it. Doc handed one to Dr. Leon and the last to the pilot.

“What about you?” the pilot shouted.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine!”

“What are you-“

Doc leaned in, uncomfortably close to the pilot’s face.

“I’m a ninja.”

Doc gave him no time to respond, throwing the pilot off the craft. Dr. Leon jumped after him.

Now, McNinja truly didn’t have a plan beyond jumping and hopefully landing on something soft. Not much luck so far. The remains of the hovercraft were already careening well into the city bounds. From what McNinja could see, he was gonna crash in the middle of a plaza of some sort.

Time to look for something soft.

Dr. McNinja rolled his neck and swan dove off of the falling wreckage. By his rough measurement, he was still about a 1000 feet in the air, and not a hay bale in sight. Perhaps he could latch onto one of the nearby buildings, at the risk of dislodging his entire arm from his body-


Doc turned in the air, recognizing Dr. Leon’s voice. The triceratops had been caught out of the air by some sort of horrible bug demon. It was doing its best to tear apart the triceratops doctor, and doing a surprisingly good job at it. Dr. Leon screamed as his chest was gashed open by the demon’s claws, and it looked like his arm was about to be torn out.

Actually, there’s something soft.

Doc reached into his coat and threw two frozen shamrocks at the demon. It shrieked as it felt the surprisingly sharp projectiles dig into its face. Got its attention, but didn’t seem to bother the demon. The demon relinquished its current victim to scream at McNinja, who drew his sword.

Ground was getting closer…

The demon, whose clawed feet were still painfully latched onto Dr. Leon’s torso, aimed what looked like a rifle at Dr. McNinja. The muzzle started whirring as red lightning started crackling out of it.

“You have a gun?”


“Hope you don’t plan on using it-“

Doc spun in the air, narrowly dodging the demon’s many lasers. Short beams of malevolent energy soared past the tumbling ninja as he whipped his grappling hook at the demon. The cable wrapped around the bug’s neck, and it yelped as it felt itself suddenly lurch downwards, letting go of Dr. Leon. Doc pulled hard, pulling the bug to him and clambering on top of its back.

“Ewwwww bug wings,” Doc groaned as he loosened the grappling hook.

The demon, unamused by this development, whirled around with its claws slashing. Doc managed to dodge one of the swipes, but the second one caught him by the shin. Dr. McNinja grunted in pain, tumbling in the air.

“Rude,” Doc snarled.

Doc spun around again, wasting precious time to get the demon back for this wound. He shoved his sword through the demon’s left wing. Doc couldn’t help but notice that the blood was purple and… boiling?

“Ewwwwwwww bug blood.”

Doc kicked off of the insect before it could retaliate, flipping backwards. The physician threw his grappling hook again, this time at Dr. Leon. No more time. He yanked hard, pulling himself up and closer to Dr. Leon while the bug tumbled downwards, its wing mangled and unable to keep it airborne.

Dr. McNinja latched onto Dr. Leon’s body and patted the backpack on his shoulders. Good, the parachute was still intact.

“I thought you were fine?!” Dr. Leon screamed.

“I was lying!” Doc admitted, pulling hard on the pack.

The parachute unfurled, jerking hard on the two doctors. They grunted at the sensation while the parachute caught the air, slowly reducing their movement. In fact, it was too slow. They were still falling to the ground, and approaching what looked like a warehouse, a little too fast for Doc to feel comfortable.


Dr. McNinja turned around. How the hell did the demon thing get above Doc? And how was it still flying and OH WOW IT’S VERY FAST.

“Hang on!” the ninja hollered.

“To what?!” Dr. Leon screamed back.

Valid point. Regardless, Doc threw his grappling hook again at the approaching demon. The demon in question shrieked as it felt the cable wrap around its throat. Doc gripped tightly onto the cable with his hands, and wrapped his legs around Dr. Leon’s chest. Meanwhile, the demon tried to compensate for the weight of two more people by flitting its wings twice and hard.

At a much safer speed and height, Doc dropped Dr. Leon onto the cobblestone street below. The triceratops doctor yelped as he landed. Meanwhile, Doc flung himself up to the fly demon thing with a hard tug on his grapple. The demon landed hard on the street, sending chunks of stone flying. Doc, in response, landed on the demon itself, his sword cutting straight through the creature’s head.

Dr. McNinja looked up at Dr. Leon to see if he was okay. But Hans Leon wasn’t the only reptilian person here. Doc squinted at the four warriors in the distance, who were currently backing away from some sort of purple smoke. Were those guys… turtles?

“Ey!” Doc said. Without turning, he stabbed backwards and gutted the other demon that was chasing him. “Are you guys turtles?”
Last edited by a moderator:

Zack Fair

Destiny Defied
Level 1
Sep 6, 2021
Click Here
The expression “raining women” turned out to be more interesting in theory than practice.

Zack had barely recovered from his explosive arrival to the Crossroads, and immediately been caught up in a massive tempest. He’d managed to make it to what passed for dry land in this ocean world, when he’d met Juneberry on the same heap. They’d barely introduced themselves when Amalia had drifted up, and then some other woman fell from the sky as well. It had been a pretty chaotic couple of hours, but Zack wasn’t too phased by it. He’d been through stranger experiences before, and probably would again.

So, as the four of them departed towards a suburb known as Nausicaa, Zack was content to ride along happily. He had already explained that he didn’t know much about what Amalia was talking about, as he was new to the Crossroads. None of them seemed terribly surprised by the concept, so he took it to mean it wasn’t uncommon for people to come and go. In the last world he had visited he’d met a lot of people clamoring to escape to their home worlds, but since Zack had died in his original world he wasn’t too keen in testing his luck again.

Zack didn’t know what they were heading into, but it sounded like a chance to put his skills to use, so he was in. Besides, the other option was wave at them as they left the wharf with the only mode of transportation. The objective came into sight in short order, and it was truly a spectacle. The waves intensified once more as they neared a landmass, and Zack swore he could see it sinking even from a distance. Amalia and Juneberry’s gasps confirmed to Zack that this was definitely not a normal sight on this planet, and then the other newcomer had… laughed? Well, that was something, too.

They navigated the boat through the waves, with the threat of being thrown off at every impact with the rough seas. Juneberry was able to steer the ship into the sinking island by spotting a lower entry point with more severe flooding through something of a team effort between the crew. It was fortunate they were able to even get onto Nausicaa, which was precisely when their luck ran out. Unable to slow the boat in the harsh waters, they collided with a semi-submerged car, and the four were hurled forward.

Zack rolled to his feet on the roof of a structure he had landed on, and looked out over the horror before them. People waded through the waters of their flooded homes, screaming and looking for their friends and family in the madness. Then there were demons and monsters roaming the streets, striking down and victims they could find. Zack’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

He wasn’t one of the great problem solvers of the world, but he figured he could work this one out. Zack drew the Buster Sword as he leaped to the streets below.


The Reigning Wyrm
Staff member
Level 6
Level 2
Aug 15, 2018
Click Here
The screaming around the city of Nausicaa Struck Chara as remarkably nostalgic. It seemed that the most snobbish of humans still sounded the same as any other panicked mob once they were whipped into a proper frenzy.

The fallen mage gripped her knife tightly as she observed the chaos within what was once a proud street - water pouring in, Asphalt breaking under bombardment from friendly and enemy fire alike.

A Beast ran forward, jaws dripping with acid. It could’ve been from the sea - Chara’d never really seen the sea before, after all, except from the clouds. It might explain the scales, the unnatural teeth, or the soulless, wide black orbs on either side of it’s face. The Creature sprang from all four unnaturally muscled limbs at the youth, and her response was eloquently simple to such a large creature. Dashing forward with unnatural speed, Chara’s eyes gave off a soft red glow as she took a fantastically ordinary kitchen knife, pierced through unarmored belly and left Darkseid’s newest Freak of nature with a lovely gash that let it’s organs start falling loose before it hit the ground.

Ordinarily Chara would’ve went for something quicker, given a quip and a smile, and moved on to the next target, but there was no Asriel here, no Toriel or Asgore. Chara didn’t have to pretend she was any better than the rest of humanity while she was here, and she moved forward without looking back, expression blank.

The human gave a rather long sigh. Eventually, she’d report to mustang, have to put that mask on for a little bit longer, and do everything she could to ensure his help finding Asriel in the future. First, though…

“Ahh. here it is.” Chara spoke, though to who, she didn’t know.

Certainly not the tentacles that rampaged through the building. The limbs of this newest demon could not see, so she could move with impunity, hacking and slashin with a mad glee as she flitted from arm to arm.

In the end, the ruined limbs were left to squirm uselessly within the destroyed ruins they were a part of, a tangled mess of Metal and Wires and so much destroyed foundation.

Chara Dreemurr gave a sigh. Once, this high-tech mansion was four stories. Now, it lacked anything resembling a roof. A burned out wreck of metal and stone, mostly sitting in piles of rubble amidst what survived of the first floor’s framework.

“Well, I am home.” Chara offered with a thin smile.
Sep 1, 2021
Click Here
Juneberry thought that a service job would teach her well about the kind of loonies the public held, but she'd yet to meet a group of people so determined to see the apocalypse.

Granted, she had been pretty eager to get there herself. But it was different for her.

The first order of business on her ship was - well, first, it was to declare it was her ship, at least for the duration of her piloting. Everyone had to sit down and shut up or she'd toss them overboard herself, because the last time Juneberry had to do an excursion over water she'd gotten tinnitus from the kids screaming to let themselves be at the helm, and she was not about to do that again.

The kid - er, Amalia, was her name - had seemed a bit sulky at the prospect. She didn’t look like she had much in the way of anything - tattered clothes, raggedy hair that she kept stroking and rubbing between her fingers anxiously. She’d helped Juno pull Zack onto the boat, somewhat apologetic and somewhat wary.

“Which way is back?” Juneberry had asked her, redoing the riggings of the ship so they would actually drift more than a dozen meters at a time. It was honestly impressive that this kid made it to her and Zack without smashing their faces into the rocks.

“Um,” Amalia said. “That way.”

Juneberry followed her finger to the horizon, squinting. The rain had steadily cleared up, though the air still tasted tangy with salt. No ordinary storm, since it had hit and passed quick as a sucker punch. But with the clouds gone, Juno could see the clear plume- no, plumes - of black smoke choking up the sky. Juneberry raised her eyebrow.

“Kid, I know a bad fire when I see one. We’re not going there.”

“Oh, yes we are.”

The other woman on the boat had rubbed Juneberry the wrong way since she... did.. Whatever it was that got her here. Juno had been too busy half-drowning in seawater to pay much attention to her. Now that she was taking a good, long look at her, Juneberry was realizing that this woman was wearing... er could you call it wearing? Her body was bound in black bandages. Suddenly very conscious that there was a kid on board, Juno threw a tarp the woman’s way.

“Lady,” Juneberry said. “Put that on.”

“Lilith,” the woman crooned, holding out her hand daintily. Juneberry waved it away. The woman retracted it, looking disinterestedly over Juno. “Hon, you look like you're gonna freeze your ass off. Not that you'll be losing much."

Juno,” she said, lavender ears flattening against her head aggressively. Whomst in the frick did this lady think she was? “My name is Juno, you repulsive stickbug excuse of a humanoid. Listen, skylander-”



“I’m not from one of your pretty little Opealon islands,” Lilith said. Juno squinted at her. “I’m from around the other, you know, many planets in this system? The ones that are here to,” she tips her head up to the sky, eyes glittering, teeth bared in some plastic imitation of a smile. “Rescue the people of Nausicaa.”

Juneberry laughed in her face. “Nausicaa is about 20 miles that way, moron,” she said, jabbing a finger at the sky. With a crack!, it was not there. Lilith had seized it, and Juneberry blinked back tears as she realized the other woman had pointed it to the far horizon. The smoke.

“Nausicaa has fallen!” Lilith sang delightedly. “The Corruption has spread! The people,” she pulled Juneberry close, close enough that Juno could smell her breath. “Need our aid.”

“It’s true!” They turned, Amalia standing, her hand seizing just the hem of Zack’s shirt. Juneberry hadn’t realized he’d stood. The sword was halfway out its sheath, slowly dipping into a relaxed state as Amalia’s fist tightened. She was holding him back. “Nausicaa. It fell from the sky. Something terrible has happened.” Amalia took a deep, deep breath. “I want to go there. I want to go to Nausicaa.” And then, hesitantly, “please don’t fight.”

A storm they won’t survive.

Lilith let Juno’s hand go. Juneberry massaged it, feeling the pulsing pain of a bruise mounting. Not broken, but the knuckle had definitely popped and there would be a deep violet color to her skin later. “The... the Corruption?”

“Oh, you know the one~” Lilith hummed, backing away and sitting on the impossible edge of the boat.

“Uh,” Zack raised a hand. “I actually don’t.”

“The one that overtook Governmorne.” Amalia was the one speaking, this time. “The one that ruined it.”

“What’s Governmorne?”

The sounds of the others faded into the background. Amalia was explaining the Crossroads to Zack. Lilith was laughing in his face. The world slowed down.

You, who makes something out of nothing. Those were the words of the tentacled man. His call to her to save a world falling into despair. Typical stuff to ask a barely-not-teenager.

“So you both,” Juneberry said, very slowly, “want to go into Nausicaa, knowing that it’s literally decaying at the seams of reality?”

“Yep!” said Lilith.

“Yes,” mumbled Amalia.

“Sure?” said Zack.

“We’re not taking the kid,” Juneberry said, gesturing to Amalia who almost seems to bristle at the prospect. “We’ll drop her off first.”

“Wait,” Amalia protested, “how come you find out that Nausicaa is drowning and you want to go, all of a sudden?” She was clutching at her hair now, pulling and smoothing it back. But her eyes were steely. Juneberry grimaced and started to move, unwinding ropes, checking the rudder, unfurling sails.

“I have a vested interest in the Unmaking, kid.”

Learn from the Unmaking. Find a way home.

“You don’t even know where land is!” Amalia pointed out. “Except for Nausicaa. Which is that way.”

Silence. Then,

“She’s right,” said Zack. He turned to Lilith. “You said that you are part of a... relief effort, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Lilith said noncommittally.

“We can take her to Nausicaa and pass her to the rescue effort. That works, right?” He seemed so pleased with his puzzling out of the situation, Juneberry nearly felt bad crushing it where it stood.

“We are not.” Juneberry threw some ropes down, turning around and facing them. “Listen. I have a reason to be on Nausicaa. But you,” she points at Zack. “Don’t. And it sounds like you’re a total greenhorn here, so we need to get you somewhere you can get situated and enjoy the next year contemplating how your entire life has just evaporated and you’re probably going to die here which you’re somehow totally okay with. And you-” she pointed her (good) finger at Lilith, scowling. The towering woman narrowed her eyes at Juno, but she didn’t back down. “I’m not taking you anywhere. You can sit your sorry flesh sack on that sandbar over there and die of starvation.”

“Pardon me?”

“As for you-” she points at Amalia, who stiffens. Juneberry almost relaxes her finger, but doesn’t. Kids. You needed to be firm with them, right? “You have no business dying this young. Where is your home?”

Amalia stubbornly shook her head. Juneberry gritted her teeth. “Where-

“Listen,” Lilith said, and her view of Amalia was blocked, as Lilith shoved her way in between. Juneberry stumbled back. Lilith pressed up close, close enough that Juno felt her back teeter over the edge of the boat, felt the dip of the hull in the water. Lilith had that fake, plastered smile on her face, those red, gleaming eyes boring down on Juneberry. “I want to go to Nausicaa. I want to go now. I also would not mind doing just about anything to make that happen.” Juno did not feel as though the offer was a net positive. Lilith’s head snapped to Amalia, her teeth bearing a grin. “Or should we just leave this one on the sandbar? Would that make this whole thing go faster? Since you’re so concerned for her, why don’t I make that decision for us?”

Amalia scrambled backwards, and Juno felt into her jacket for her knife. Stupid thing, for her to fall in the water. Her pistol was plant-powered. It was probably as dead as her wings. But a knife -

Juneberry yelped as she felt a rough yank on her jacket, and suddenly she was dangling over the boat once more. Zack dropped her gently back down onto the boards of the ship, one hand flexing over the hilt of his giant sword playfully. He clicked his tongue. “You’re light,” he said to Juneberry. She just stared at him. Had he just??? Plucked her by the scruff of her jacket??

Zack brandished his sword cheerily at Lilith and Juneberry alike. “I don’t think any of us will get anywhere if you kill Juno,” he said. “Not even Nausicaa. And I don’t think you-” he shakes Juno like she’s a small sack of potatoes. “Will enjoy a violent encounter with Lilith over here. Why don’t we all just-” he shrugged, unsheathing the sword just to run his finger over the edge. “- go there?” He grinned at Juno. “We’ll part ways and never have to deal with each other again. And if you’re worried about the girl, we can protect her.”

Juneberry stared at him. “What part of world-ending cosmic horror didn’t get through your brain?”

“All of it,” said Zack. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He patted his sword. “Besides, it sounds like what I came here for.”

“What you-?”

“And I want to go,” Amalia cut in. “I want to go to Nausicaa.”

Juneberry looked at Lilith. Lilith looked back with murderous intent.

So to Nausicaa they went.


Zack, thank Jove, was a quick study on the ropes. Actually - he was a great study. Juneberry was beginning to suspect he had just lied about his inability to pilot. Or maybe... maybe it was purposeful. Lilith had made it cartoonishly clear early on that if she hadn’t needed Juneberry to get places, Juneberry would probably be dissolving in Opealons waters right now.

Not that the prospect scared Juno, or anything.

Juneberry spent most of their voyage repairing her wings, and sitting somewhere she could block Amalia from whatever demonspawn Lilith was. Lilith, for her part, had somehow managed to - walk ?!- up the mast, and was enjoying her spot at the very top of the ship, making them all considerably less aerodynamic.

Juneberry wretched open the back panel of her wings. “Why do you want to go to Nausicaa so bad, kid?” Juno asked, suddenly.

Amalia eyed her darkly, her chin on her knees. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, and I asked first.”

Amalia’s eyes slid to the side. She fiddled with her hair some more. Juneberry gave up.

The horizon was smoke. As Nausicaa pulled herself into view, Juno saw that what she thought had been a bad fire on islands a few leagues away had actually been devastation orders of magnitude larger, the smoke billowing thick enough that it was getting harder to breathe. Juno emptied her mask of saltwater and strapped it on tighter.

When they said Nausicaa, Juneberry had pictured a chunk. She hadn’t envisioned the carving of a continent.

The waters were getting choppier at their approach. Something, Juno predicted, to do with the giant horking tendrils snaking into the sky.

“There!” from the mast, Lilith seemed unfazed. No, if anything, she was in a delighted frenzy over the sight of Nausicaa’s ruination. “An entrance!”

Peering through the mist, Juneberry spotted it. Somehow, an outcropping of a half-submerged tunnel, protecting the inside from the battering of the storm. It was massive- Juno suspected they used to carry large party buses through there, when the rich’s money had any meaning.

“We’ll aim there!” Juneberry called back, scrambling to the rudder. Zack seemed most lackadaisical about this whole ordeal, giving Juneberry a grin.

“I got this.”

“No,” Juneberry said, and kicked him out of the rudder position. The rudder felt significantly more weighty in her hands than it had looked in Zack’s - but it was all necessary. Maybe they couldn’t sense it, but she could. The wild magic running under their planks wasn’t enthused at their arrival. “You got this big sword, bucko! Make sure we get there alive!” She turned and nodded to Amalia, who had been staring, wide-eyed at the place. Recognition. Had she been here before?

“Kid!” Juno yelled. “Tie down the sails, you hear me? Tie them down!”

Amalia was scrambling to her feet. God, she was quick. Juneberry turned her attention to the tunnel. “Well,” she mumbled, cursing the name of the stars and Jove and whoever that ugly bearded man was that gave her this slim little hope. The Unmaking had better been worth this. “Here goes nothing.”


They crashed. Of course they did.

But they were alive, stuck and wedged between a car and the tunnel wall. They all dragged themselves out - Zack, of course, leaping forward to clear a path like a complete lunatic. But it was working. God, Juno was almost upset that it was working.

Lilith stalked out not long after. She was soaked - but with hardly a flip of her hair and a catlike grin on her face, she seemed otherwise unscathed. She was inhaling deeply, as if enjoying the smell of death and desperation.

And if that was the case, Juneberry reeked. She crawled out of the wreck, lungs double aching, back killing her, and finger still bruised from Lilith’s funny little assault.

Juno looked up to see Amalia standing just a little ways away, holding herself. What Juno had thought might have been recognition was confirmed. She was mouthing to herself, as if counting the blocks, recalling the street names and the polished signs that were now rusting in the ocean brine.

“...kid,” Juno called out. Amalia turned around. Was this a good idea? Probably not. But it would make Juneberry feel better. Juno held out a hand. Amalia approached cautiously, until Juno could open it, palm up. A knife. Juno’s knife, a small pocket-thing she’d managed to preserve from her initial crash-landing on Opealon over a year ago. Her arrival to the Crossroads.

“Not much, but better than nothing. Stick close to me, would you?” Juneberry didn’t meet Amalia’s eyes as she spoke. “We should find whoever’s in charge of this mess.”


The Reigning Wyrm
Staff member
Level 6
Level 2
Aug 15, 2018
Click Here
The Waters of opealon had already begun to reflect the reality that had been unveiled for the vaunted city of hope. Corpses had begun rising to the surface, breaking the pristine water with dead fish and Mutilated men. Quite a few aliens and monsters also dotted the sea, unmaking trash, for the most part. The ring around the newly submerging island had also begun to absorb some of the city itself, the destroyed architecture finding a new home in the waves. Surrounding what was the city of hope was a ring of garbage and roadkill, and it was, perhaps, the most fitting metaphor Ridley could think of for such a gaggle of fools.

Flying with the Crossroads’ sun, the Dragon made no noise as he approached, save for the sound of his frame hurtling through the sky. He had business here, after all, and as he grew closer he had his eyes set firmly for the wallets in this situation.

As the Pirate grew closer, he quickly realized that it was more likely that this would be little more than a salvage operation. The City of hope was already covered in the monstrous unmade vanguard of Opealon, along with Darkseid’s favored children. Every single spot of resistance was either highly mobile or highly deceased, as the island’s defenders were swept across by surprise. The air seemed to be somewhat better managed, surprisingly, with mechs and fighters struggling against swarms of mutated avian life and Parademons.

As the thought crossed his mind, he finally became the target of some of the aerial invaders, Birds with extra wings and talons and entirely too much teeth for a beak to have. The bevy of hawklike invaders sought to swoop upon him from above, pinning him down with numbers and the advantage of superior numbers.

Ridley gave a grin, before throwing his body into a barrel roll. Flames erupted from his maw, catching the gull-creatures in a torrent of flame. Plasma caught the surprised gulls with little more than an excited squawk, and without any further applomb several charred freaks fell to the water with a barely audible ‘sploosh’.

feed the sealife, pests!

Ridley’s eyes moved towards the city below without so much as a smile, though. Slaughter, even of an enemy like Darkseid, lost it’s shine without visible salvage. The Dragon’s eyes turned again to the city, trying to find-

There. A church showed in Ridley’s vision, and the Dragon gave a grin as he soared closer to see the situation. It would take time for him to know for sure from this distance, but he recognized those particular puffs of flame.


The Church was besieged by a number of horrifying creatures, but few had the mass of the newest creature to drag itself up from the depths, A fusion of a shark’s face and mantis-like arthropodic features. The house-sized creature was being kept off by a consistent rhythm of snapping explosions, the creature shrinking from the fire blasts, but the creature was less bothered by each preceding blast, growing used to the pain and relatively undamaged.

“Incoming!” Riza snapped, Causing Roy to lift his gaze just fast enough to see a flash of violet.

Ridley smashed with full-speed into the back of the shark-mantis with all the force of a rocket, slamming the creature onto his side as he landed with a vicious grin.

The Pirate leaped for the mantis with a Screech loud enough to pierce the din of the combat, Before charging forward.

Darkseid’s Abomination found it’s footing quickly though, trying to rake the Pirate with scything talons. Ridley rolled underneath the Strike with surprising agility, before popping up underneath the taller creature.

The Dragon’s tail lashed out, pinning it’s way into the creature’s underbelly savagely, and finding it’s hook, allowing the dragon to hold - with some effort - the mantis from running away. The space pirate could only maintain this level of physical power for a short period, but all he needed was a spare breath.

With a grin ear to ear, Ridley opened his maw to unleash a jet of plasma directly at the tail-wound, listening to the high-pitched screech.

From a look at Ridley’s pleased expression, eyes half-closed, it may as well have been an orchestral masterpiece to the Commander.

Throwing the beast to one side with a visible grin, the Pirate commander turned to Roy with gore already covering his frame.

“Roy Mustang. I hope your budget accounts for my cheque, Commander..”


Staff member
Jul 31, 2018
Erde Nona
Click Here
In a dreary underground laboratory on Mesa Roja…

“Good one,” Liv chimes in, her words nothing more than an electronic buzz against the delicate workings of Ridley’s inner ear.

A toothy, deranged grin stretches across her face, all of her arms—mechanical tentacles and fleshy limbs alike—working in tandem to call up a variety of televised broadcasts from the City of Hope. One by one, the tinny, filtered screams of panicked civilians echo via the gallery of bright view-screens lining her laboratory’s walls. Their electronic glare is particularly alien in the shadowy darkness beneath the sands of Mesa Roja’s desert, illuminating the rounded lenses of her glasses until she appears bug-eyed, detached— utterly inhuman, were it not for the scientific interest sparking in her gaze.

“It appears that the island suburb of Nausicaa is being submerged very quickly, Lord Ridley,” Liv reports, the bony fingers of her flesh hands reaching out to peck at a keyboard, the screen nearest to her face flashing with images of destruction and despair. “… evidently, if you’ll notice, by some sort of gigantic, tentacled force from beneath the waves. Some of the current speculation seems to be centered around the legend of the Kraken, the world’s Arbiter, pollutants, etcetera… but there simply isn’t enough evidence to be certain. What we can be certain of… is that it’s the Unmaking. Regardless, evacuation is the current focus— ah. Well now.. Isn’t that interesting.”

She terminates their connection briefly, turning away from the ongoing distress signal of Zachary Comstock to face the display one of her mechanized arms is currently flagellating wildly at. The image on the screen, a camera drone broadcast by the looks of it, magnifies with the press of a button. Liv’s green eyes narrow, a pinched sneer of disgust flickering upon her face.

With a slight crackle of static—a side effect of the nearby Unmade presence on Ridley’s end, and not a true mark against her communicator’s design, she is quite certain—the connection to Ridley is active once more.

Dr. Octavius clears her throat. “Aside from the group you’ve just encountered, it also seems that there are a variety of untrained travelers trying to be…” she grits her teeth, spitting the next word out with a slight hiss. “Heroes. Let’s hope they don’t add to the body count. At least the teams from Markov are semi-competent.”

Leaning back in her seat with a sigh, Liv clasps her hands around a steaming mug of tea, allowing her extra limbs to work autonomously. “The situation… is deteriorating at an alarming rate. Unfortunately, I’m limited to public transmissions at the moment, but hacking into more secure channels shouldn’t be too challenging. Until I have more information to share, I’ll continue to be your eye in the sky… you certainly have your work cut out for you… sir.”

Her gaze slides to the side, taking in the display of an icy warrior and little mouse fending off an armored, locust-like humanoid. Boy, is she glad that she’s watching all this from the safety of her lab.
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