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  1. #301
    Legendary God of Pirates Nik Hasta's Avatar
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    As the battlefield is spattered with a rain of sparkling and oily liquid, infecting Krys and Kinu with a grim nausea, a large crossbow appears at another upper window. The Bez, having dodged the toxic stream of the Commander and shifted to a lower floor, returns fire with a vengeance. A crackling arrow of energy rockets out of the building and slams into the prone Commander.

    - Toxic Commander takes 36 DMG and spends ENR to resist a status effect.

    She then shifts her focus and targets the Brute Wrangler, definitely hurt from Krys' attacks early and fires a conventional bolt that nails it squarely in the head and it falls back into the putrid mud with a splash, dead.

    - Brute Wrangler (Wagner) takes 33 DMG and is dead.

    The Toxic Commander rears upward, pulling the sparking bolt from his molten body and surveys the devastation and fallen bodies of his comrades. He lets out a wail of sadness and rage as the squat creature falls dead in front of him.

    "Yer'll all pay for this ya murderers!" he chatters, his body mired in the thick mud - unable to move until he can drag himself clear of it. He points at Kinu, "You! Yer'll be first! Yer talkin' 'bout yer strength and might makin' right!? Well dere's power in this place, power given to me by tha' Viceroy. Even if it kills me, I'm gonna take ya down!" he roars. Krys gets that sense of something within this place, the power of Khazan itself, surging through the monstrous figure, but far greater than before.

    His eyes momentarily blaze with a burst of light and his skin ripples and surges as whatever force that is host here moves through him. For an instant, the corroded and wasted away remains of his skeleton is illuminated. In the distance, emanating from the top of the Great Tree, there is something akin to a far distant crack of thunder that echoes throughout the city.

    The Commander thrusts his hand forward and once more the tentacles of foul smelling ooze blast out from his fingers. These thick ropes of fleshy ooze had previously crushed a car like a tin can and now those frighteningly strong appendages were empowered far beyond that level and are winging their way towards Kinu with the intention to snuff out her life.

    - Kinu you have Defensive Options to to resolve, please report to the Combat Notation Thread.

    Krys feels the energy surging out of the Commander, draining him to the last, the great power of Khazan taking everything he has with it.

  2. #302
    Legendary God of Pirates Nik Hasta's Avatar
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    The tentacles whip out, their intention to crush the life out of the Warrior of the Wasteland. They fold around and snap shut with a sound like a gunshot, contricting and binding.

    But Kinu is not there. Throwing everything she had at it, she managed to escape at the last possible second. A few stands of her hair have been ripped from her scalp as she breathes heavily, clearly exhausted by the effort of evading such an attack.

    The Commander is looking similarly exhausted. The tentacles retract, their target missed and he visibly sags as only a being with precious little in the way of a skeleton can.

    "It - huff - ain't - huff - ovah..." he wheezes. His fingers at the trigger of his projectile weapon and it lets out a dry gurgle and no spray of toxic ooze is sent forth. He is, for the moment, spent and without much in the way of power to fight.

    A few dull sounds emanate from the lower floor of the building as Digger continues her work.

    - Kinu, it is now your turn (along with Cassa and your Hellhound. Please report to the Combat Notation Thread to decide your actions.

  3. #303

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    Quote Originally Posted by Sharpandpointies View Post
    The system collapses to the chosen path, its existence narrowed to a single route, the others vanishing into untouched potentials, maybes, never-happeneds. Still mid-impact, Krys adjusts; like they had with the hellhound, they catch the soggy foe around the neck area, their flying mass yanking it from its feet as Krys' own feet sink into the mire in response, Newton hard at work even through their partial foray beyond such laws. A step and a turn - not a spin, never a spin - and with one palm on the back of what passes for its skull, Krys drops their body-weight - and their enemy's, both - to drive the creature face-first into into a shallow patch of mire, their masses, velocities, and power adding together.

    Face-first into the stone beneath the soupy mess.
    Quote Originally Posted by Sharpandpointies View Post
    Already moving in, Krys hesitates as the creature vomits a shower. It's a mistake, but an understandable one, considering the potential of the enemy's inner fluids. Should have kept at it, they consider with some disgust - disgust at themselves, not the bodily fluids. Blood, vomit, feces, it doesn't really matter to Krys so long as it's not dangerous to them. Or hard to wash off.

    After a time spent beyond the infinite, subjective ideas of 'filthy' or 'disgusting' somewhat loose their edge.

    To her left, close-by, Kinu continues her mocking while circling her opponent like a dodging panther. There's no question the woman holds the upper hand, here, and her lack of fear is inspiring. But her amusement fades as the mechanoid companion is hurled away like a toy, landing out of sight but departing with the ominous note of wounded metal. Rage again suffuses the warrior woman's voice as she expulses outrage at the treatment of her ally. Krys can't help a lop-sided smile.

    "Go get 'em," they whisper, an instant before the pustule before them inflates itself.
    After she'd tossed one of the spare tires away, the other one stepped up and tried to snatch at her.

    "Heh, don't screw with me, rookie," she spat, "I've chewed through leather tougher than you!"

    Kinu's eyes dart to the blubbering Commander behind them. Once they were through this, that oozing pustule would pay for what they'd done to Krys and she'd pop him like a blood-filled tick-

    It was then that she saw the wrangler of the rubber bunch drop into the muck adjacent to them and who should it be but Krys.

    "...hey! Where the hell did you come from?"

    Still coming down from that revelation high pf strength, even this bottomed out, there could be no mistaking the kinked metal and burning plastic horses staking itself in a morbid centrepiece of wreckage there at the edge of the swamp.

    But Krys was still here.

    "...hah! Dunno why you sell yourself short, somehow you found a way straight through and put that jibbering imp in his place."

    From here it looked like there were some folks on the move from the building before them.

    "These pustules are real good at making enemies. Whatever we blundered into here, we're gettin' out...and wait, where's the kid?"

    Quote Originally Posted by Nik Hasta View Post
    As Nemo stumbles away from the pile of rotton and stinky enemy combatants, the Melty Man undergoes a strange transition in the composition of its body. It retracts and seems to harden, becoming denser and deep within it glows an ember of bright light, distinct from the flames that sputtered on the damp earth around it and muted amongst the dark green ooze that constitutes its body. But it begins to glow brighter.

    Its face turns and it looks to its commander with a strange bubbling mewl, almost of pity or shame at this being the end of it. A gnarled and mutated mitt-like hand reaches up and grasps the globular face and cradles it as gently as such unweildy fingers can. The Commander stares into the eyes of his stricken soldier, with an expression that radiates a mix of sorrow and a kind of twisted pride.

    "Xaric," he says, in a gentle rolling tone, "Yer've done me and the boys proud. Jimmy, Franky, Carmen... Ya didn't choose this life but yer pursue-d justice wit' der best of them," the Commander slurs. There is a whining noise emanating from the molten creature, gradually rising in pitch and volume in sync with the light that glows at its core.

    "Whatever ya got left to give, I'll take it," the Commander says, pus-filled tears flowing from his bloodshot eyes.

    Xaric, the molten creature, lets out low noise of perhaps approval or thanks for the Commander's words as abruptly the entirety of his liquid body glows and becomes less dark green and takes on the patina of a puddle of petrol, a bizarre rainbow patterning that makes him, for a moment, oddly beautiful

    And then he swells and explodes with a thunderous burst of noxious liquid that flies in all directions, showering everything around his position in a near 50 foot radius.

    The shockwave rips through the swamp, sending up a mud and debris as it does. Krys is struck by the wave of force, slightly ahead of the rain of liquid. They see the dwarven creature they had struck moments ago attempting to move its body but the result of their strike but moments ago leaves it paralysed and unable to dodge. The liquid lands on it along with the shockwave. The creature screams in curious mix of pleasure and pain. It is clearly struck and hurt by the shockwave but the liquid seems to have some kind of revilatising effect. The net benefit, with the damage from the wave seems minimal, the pint-sized monster is clearly worse off than before.

    Krys doesn't imagine that they will enjoy the same benefits of this liquid striking them as it sails towards them.

    Insulated within the wreckage of the carousel, Nemo is buffeted by the explosion but the shower of ooze spatters on the wreckage rather than her or Rae.

    Kinu sees the two hulking brutes in front her. They take the explosion in stride, seemingly unbothered by the damage inflicted and grunt appreciatively as the liquid lands on their bodies, seeming to suture and close some of the damage she had done. takes the shockwave, planting her feet in defiance and sees the liquid likewise heading through the air towards her.

    Much like Krys, she assumes that her human body will not take the shower of pungent liquid nearly as well and, even as the shockwave passes through her, she has to take action. As she prepares to move, she notices that her Hellhound is just out of harm's way.
    "Watch out!"

    The shockwave carried the sheet of grime on a small, noxious wave, and with it all the corpse-smelling, rancid airs Kinu imagined these things must smell like up close, and for the second time she found her way forward frozen.

    "Ain't a way to get past this. It'd be easier to dodge rain in a monsoon."

    So she grit her teeth, braced herself for the impact. The moment the liquid wrapped itself around her, she felt it slide over her limbs, blood-warm and suffocating. Unlike the mud of the swamp, it didn't seem to harden; Rather, after it stuck to her like some sort of fetid membrane, she felt something else, as if there were some unseen substance that passed through her skin and seeped into her.

    Poison?

    Kinu felt her pulse freeze, and a fluid sickness spread through her hot, making it seem as if her blood stopped and trickled backward through her veins.

    Quote Originally Posted by Nik Hasta View Post
    As the battlefield is spattered with a rain of sparkling and oily liquid, infecting Krys and Kinu with a grim nausea, a large crossbow appears at another upper window. The Bez, having dodged the toxic stream of the Commander and shifted to a lower floor, returns fire with a vengeance. A crackling arrow of energy rockets out of the building and slams into the prone Commander.

    She then shifts her focus and targets the Brute Wrangler, definitely hurt from Krys' attacks early and fires a conventional bolt that nails it squarely in the head and it falls back into the putrid mud with a splash, dead.

    The Toxic Commander rears upward, pulling the sparking bolt from his molten body and surveys the devastation and fallen bodies of his comrades. He lets out a wail of sadness and rage as the squat creature falls dead in front of him.
    Wiping the grime from her eyes, the first thing Kinu saw was the Wrangler drop dead.

    "Ah, what a shame," Kinu chuckled raggedly, "I was about to give him a taste of his own medicine."

  4. #304

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    "Yer'll all pay for this ya murderers!" he chatters, his body mired in the thick mud - unable to move until he can drag himself clear of it. He points at Kinu, "You! Yer'll be first! Yer talkin' 'bout yer strength and might makin' right!? Well dere's power in this place, power given to me by tha' Viceroy. Even if it kills me, I'm gonna take ya down!" he roars. Krys gets that sense of something within this place, the power of Khazan itself, surging through the monstrous figure, but far greater than before.

    His eyes momentarily blaze with a burst of light and his skin ripples and surges as whatever force that is host here moves through him. For an instant, the corroded and wasted away remains of his skeleton is illuminated. In the distance, emanating from the top of the Great Tree, there is something akin to a far distant crack of thunder that echoes throughout the city.

    The Commander thrusts his hand forward and once more the tentacles of foul smelling ooze blast out from his fingers. These thick ropes of fleshy ooze had previously crushed a car like a tin can and now those frighteningly strong appendages were empowered far beyond that level and are winging their way towards Kinu with the intention to snuff out her life.
    "Your brain leak out as bad as your face?! You started this fight, Chief! What's wrong? Can't crawl out of the filth you created? How're you gonna bring justice if you can't even stand up on your own two feet?"

    It was almost too easy to come up with these, but spitting more venom was not the goal - in the short term, at least. Seeing Krys take the hit as well as her, Kinu wasn't short of material, either, and her own pain was forgotten for a moment; and as the Commander sputtered back, it became her fuel.

    "Got no bones beneath your blather! You got nothing to stand on, either! Your laws, they have no legs!"

    Eyes over here...bring it on... Maybe that could give them a moment.

    "Calling it now, who the hell would respect the authority of a crippled kanker sore of a cop-!"

    Then the thunder shook the mire that had spread through the concrete. It was different from the raw, explosive force of that smaller, molten man, layered chunks of whom littered the territory of his commander and silently quickened where it had fallen upon her, and intuitively, even Kinu knew she had to stop talking, for this was not a trifling matter.

    She couldn't place it precisely, but somehow she knew that it was similar to the power she'd drawn upon just now.

    ...so it really wasn't just me...whatever magic's in the air...

    The Toxic Commander's digits foamed, then with an unsettling sound, shot rotting, liquefied cannons across the field. [/quote]

    The shock from the damage left one of her ears ringing, and tossing around the shambling tire creatures, she felt it in her tendons. Stretching through wading steps, it felt as if her legs were starting to burn.

    But this was not the way it was going to end. And where the tentacles cornered her, her body did not obey, the will did not falter, and she kept up the facade...and for a moment everything seemed clearer for a moment.

    It was different than the last time. She felt as if she could break through the tire-men like a phonebook. This time it felt as if everything had become endlessly fluid, like she was standing on air, and despite the wave of noxious snot, the spatter of liquefied flesh and refuse hadn't clouded her sight. The tentacles still had to reach, and as appendages, Kinu had suddenly found them quite cumbersome, even as she caught the sent of it a split-second before the stump would land.

    Quote Originally Posted by Nik Hasta View Post
    The tentacles whip out, their intention to crush the life out of the Warrior of the Wasteland. They fold around and snap shut with a sound like a gunshot, contricting and binding.

    But Kinu is not there. Throwing everything she had at it, she managed to escape at the last possible second. A few stands of her hair have been ripped from her scalp as she breathes heavily, clearly exhausted by the effort of evading such an attack.

    The Commander is looking similarly exhausted. The tentacles retract, their target missed and he visibly sags as only a being with precious little in the way of a skeleton can.

    "It - huff - ain't - huff - ovah..." he wheezes. His fingers at the trigger of his projectile weapon and it lets out a dry gurgle and no spray of toxic ooze is sent forth. He is, for the moment, spent and without much in the way of power to fight
    Somehow, she deftly waded through the tentacle salvo, twisting through the curtain of filth through the rush of air. Even as one of the appendages ripped past her face, she was running high, and once she got through this-!

    The epiphany faded quickly as she landed, sucking wind, perspiration mixing with the blood trailing from her face where the porcelain flesh crinkled from the corners of her eyes and split her lips from strain in her visage.

    But, oh, she was alive, and a wicked crackle of a laugh escaped her.

    The power of this place...it's a prize to be taken...and that Viceroy...

    "Really? Looks like your favourite toy just bled dry! What's the matter, where's your backbone, that go limp too?!"

    Cackling under the crimson dripping from her mouth, despite all conveyance, it was taking all of her effort just to stand.

    Without breaking eye contact she called out to Krys.

    "You took a few hard shots. Can you move?"

    They had skills, and an edge in that weirding, spiritually uplifted way that she herself couldn't quite grasp.

    "You're gonna get outta this, yeah? And Nemo and Ja-"

    Wait, where the hell did the Killobot go? Did that choleric clot actually manage to hit something with that phlegm soaker? Moreover, the rubber grapplers had just grafted that goo to themselves, and whatever splits in the seams they had had begun to stitch together. It took a hell of a lot out of her to slap them around, and they were too stupid to go down.

  5. #305
    The Weeping Mod Sharpandpointies's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by grampagen View Post
    It was then that she saw the wrangler of the rubber bunch drop into the muck adjacent to them and who should it be but Krys.

    "...hey! Where the hell did you come from?"

    Still coming down from that revelation high pf strength, even this bottomed out, there could be no mistaking the kinked metal and burning plastic horses staking itself in a morbid centrepiece of wreckage there at the edge of the swamp.

    But Krys was still here.

    "...hah! Dunno why you sell yourself short, somehow you found a way straight through and put that jibbering imp in his place."

    From here it looked like there were some folks on the move from the building before them.

    "These pustules are real good at making enemies. Whatever we blundered into here, we're gettin' out...and wait, where's the kid?"
    Eyes still on their enemy, Krys begins to circle as Kinu calls out. If one can call what tightens their lips a smile, it's a hard, thin one. "Odds seemed to need some evening up." A thumb indicates the building behind Krys. "Trevor should be in the fortress -" they begin to explain.

    Then the detonation.

    The sudden explosion takes Krys off-guard, sending them stumbling away as the acid downpour begins. The greasy liquid slicks their hair, their face, their exposed hands; it settles into the folds and creases of the leather jacket and catches in the rents in the jeans. Cured leather and denim burn and corrode while skin is seared; half-blinded, enervated, Krys goes down, falling back onto a chunk of rubble, back slamming hard, leaving them half-seated, a screaming pain biting into their chest. Dizzy and sick, Krys looks down at the sharp tip of rebar punching out of their now-bloody t-shirt and coughs a thin red mist into the fouled air. Rib...maybe a lung...bleeding... The corrosion continues, pale spots appearing on the leather jacket, angry patches growing on her dark skin as the toxins sink deeper, carving their way into muscle. Barely breathe...tired...so tired... The crystal palace of the world is gone, replaced with the crude reality, and entropy has Krys firmly in its grasp.

    Ashen Death...I think...I think I'm...

    Kinu's voice filters through the haze, the warrior-woman's powerful voice questioning, cajoling, prodding their memories. Trevor. Nemo and Rae. Jane. And abruptly Krys' feet scrabble in the foul mire, struggling for purchase as their palms press against the rubble behind them.

    Yeah. I'm coming to you.

    Heels dig in, arms and hips push, and Krys tears free of the biting, rusty iron, leaving the spike darkly dripping as they slowly rise, hands dangling loosely at their sides, head down, hair lank strands about their burned visage, and eyes like slits.

    But...not yet.

    Another crimson cough, and when they speak the words come out in a grating snarl.

    "Kinu, I'm up."
    Last edited by Sharpandpointies; 06-01-2023 at 04:41 AM.
    Why are we here?

    "Superboy Prime (the yelling guy if he needs clarification)..." - Postmania
    "...dropping an orca whale made of fire on your enemies is a pretty strong opening move." - Nik
    "Why throw punches when you can be making everyone around you sterile mutant corpses?" - Pendaran, regarding Dr. Fate

  6. #306

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    Quote Originally Posted by Sharpandpointies View Post
    Eyes still on their enemy, Krys begins to circle as Kinu calls out. If one can call what tightens their lips a smile, it's a hard, thin one. "Odds seemed to need some evening up." A thumb indicates the building behind Krys. "Trevor should be in the fortress -" they begin to explain.

    Then the detonation.

    The sudden explosion takes Krys off-guard, sending them stumbling away as the acid downpour begins. The greasy liquid slicks their hair, their face, their exposed hands; it settles into the folds and creases of the leather jacket and catches in the rents in the jeans. Cured leather and denim burn and corrode while skin is seared; half-blinded, enervated, Krys goes down, falling back onto a chunk of rubble, back slamming hard, leaving them half-seated, a screaming pain biting into their chest. Dizzy and sick, Krys looks down at the sharp tip of rebar punching out of their now-bloody t-shirt and coughs a thin red mist into the fouled air. Rib...maybe a lung...bleeding... The corrosion continues, pale spots appearing on the leather jacket, angry patches growing on her dark skin as the toxins sink deeper, carving their way into muscle. Barely breathe...tired...so tired... The crystal palace of the world is gone, replaced with the crude reality, and entropy has Krys firmly in its grasp.

    Ashen Death...I think...I think I'm...

    Kinu's voice filters through the haze, the warrior-woman's powerful voice questioning, cajoling, prodding their memories. Trevor. Nemo and Rae. Jane. And abruptly Krys' feet scrabble in the foul mire, struggling for purchase as their palms press against the rubble behind them.

    Yeah. I'm coming to you.

    Heels dig in, arms and hips push, and Krys tears free of the biting, rusty iron, leaving the spike darkly dripping as they slowly rise, hands dangling loosely at their sides, head down, hair lank strands about their burned visage, and eyes like slits.

    But...not yet.

    Another crimson cough, and when they speak the words come out in a grating snarl.

    "Kinu, I'm up."
    "Damn right you are." Wading near knee-deep in this muck, there'd be no other way to do it. As if to curse it, Kinu spat a bloody clot into the upturned bog around them. "Because now, it's time for us to get some payback."

    Taking a few dragging steps over to where Krys stood, Kinu reached over with one arm to prop them up. A rugged hand scaped some of the overspray out of their eyes as gently as possible.

    "And still in one piece. Good, you're gonna need those to find the spot, yeah?"

    The rubber men began to close in. Kinu raised her other hand and snapped as she shouted behind her.

    "Cassa! It's time! Get us ready to finish this and assist me in closing this out!"
    Last edited by grampagen; 06-05-2023 at 02:21 PM.

  7. #307
    Legendary God of Pirates Nik Hasta's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by grampagen View Post
    "Damn right you are." Wading near knee-deep in this muck, there'd be no other way to do it. As if to curse it, Kinu spat a bloody clot into the upturned bog around them. "Because now, it's time for us to get some payback."

    Taking a few dragging steps over to where Krys stood, Kinu reached over with one arm to prop them up. A rugged hand scaped some of the overspray out of their eyes as gently as possible.

    "And still in one piece. Good, you're gonna need those to find the spot, yeah?"

    The rubber men began to close in. Kinu raised her other hand and snapped as she shouted behind her.

    "Cassa! It's time! Get us ready to finish this and assist me in closing this out!"
    The machine jerks and pulls itself upward out of the small pile of rubble it is lying in. Its blank face twitches as it takes in the battlefield for a moment.

    "Values considered. Allied units compromised. Situation resolution requested. <...> Initiating [TEMP_ASSIMILIATION_PROCEDURE] on all hostiles." it intones with a predictably flat affect.

    Its body ripples, there is a high whining buzz and Cassa suddenly it splits open at the shoulders. Where it had deployed the nanobot swarm that made up its body to heal and had sent cooling clouds of nanites to assist and restore the party, this was something of a different nature. A dense a choking smog whirls around Cassa's body for a moment before blasting out in all directions and covering all of the remaining toxic enemies on the field with a thick patina of grey, squirming goo that seems to condense out of the smoke as it engulfs them.

    The Commander is almost obscured from view as he is swamped in a thick cloud of nanites, the Brutes struggle and flail as they attempt to fight of a sandstorm, Kowalski attempts to run, his arms moving in a blur to try and keep himself safe but is still coated in grey tingling nanobots for all his efforts. For a moment they scream and twitch, the air full of a strange buzzing sound just on the edge of hearing. Then suddenly, they all fall curiously silent. All stood there, attempting no action whatsoever.

    Cassa stands and pauses for a moment, as if considering for a few seconds, before it speaks. The volume on its voice emitter has clearly been turned up to maximum and the neutral voice rings out across the ravaged gardens.

    "Kill each other," it says.

    The Brutes look away from Kinu and jerk until they are glaring at each other, fists bunching as they prepare to tear into one another.

    - The Toxic Commander has been hit for 30 DMG and inflicted with Charm - Control for the next 6 turns.

    - Tire Brute 1 and 2 have been hit for 5 DMG and have been inflicted with Charm - Control the next 3 turns.

    - Kowalski has been inflicted with Charm - Control for the next 3 turns.

  8. #308

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    The tinny mist filled the air, but instead of the last time, the cloud of filings seemed to pass over them.

    "Hah? What the hell?" Did his loopy hotwired brain miss?

    When the screams and gnarled growling started, and the bruiser brothers who were fixing to throw down with her turned on each other, Kinu's eyes widened, stupefied as Cassa gave the order.

    "...didn't think that blocky unit had that stashed away," she said. For a moment, her head bowed, heavy eyelids slid shut, and a strange, melancholic smile lay flat on her face.

    "And that, Krys, is our opening." She spoke, and her voice was almost a whisper, almost as if the cybernetic smog had taken the lustre out of it. "Give it to me straight. Those people holed up in there, they friends of ours, or are we on our own?"

  9. #309
    The Weeping Mod Sharpandpointies's Avatar
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    Kinu sloshes through the mire toward Krys, the warrior unbowed despite her injuries. A heavy hand comes down on Krys, but not to crush; gratified at the assistance, Krys pulls themselves a touch straighter - still slumped, but unquestioningly yet defiant. Another hand - surprisingly gentle - brushes their eyes clear; Krys spits gummy water and blood. "One piece is a relative thing," they whisper, their voice cracking. Then Kinu raises her voice to roar a command, rolling it across the battlefield like thunder.

    And the mechanoid obeys.

    It rises, vomiting forth a cloud of nigh-invisible machines that swarm open space in search of their targets. This time they bypass the wounded Krys, instead settling on their enemies; Some kind of attack, is all they have time to think before the mechanoids own orders roll out, and now it is their enemies who obey, turning upon one another. Another cough wracks Krys, crimson threads sliding from the corners of their mouth, but somehow they manage a smile. "I'd have preferred...something different," they choke out, "but...it's tactically sound." Craning their neck, burned and seared muscle afire with complaints, Krys glances up at Kinu, peering through their fouled, lank hair. "Enemies of our enemies," they croak through a throat filled with broken glass. "Not so interested in our help, but not out to kill us either, and definitely against this bunch."
    Last edited by Sharpandpointies; 06-07-2023 at 05:10 AM.
    Why are we here?

    "Superboy Prime (the yelling guy if he needs clarification)..." - Postmania
    "...dropping an orca whale made of fire on your enemies is a pretty strong opening move." - Nik
    "Why throw punches when you can be making everyone around you sterile mutant corpses?" - Pendaran, regarding Dr. Fate

  10. #310
    JUST DO IT?!?! Postmania's Avatar
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    All of a sudden, Jane's mind cleared. She felt the processes in her system distributing calming patterns of digits and sequences, acting as mantra to soothe her more troubled state, as was designed in cases of extreme negative emotion. These were insufficient for any long term emotional effect, but they did help in specific moments in a similar way to what she was told adrenaline could manage in a more humanoid being. She should be taking in her surroundings, she knew, but instead in that moment she was analyzing her performance.

    An emotional failure in the middle of combat? This...does not happen.

    Such an occurrence was especially rare. But she supposed she was in extraordinary circumstances. It seemed very unlikely that her makers had designed her for a face-to-face confrontation with a God and all it entailed psychologically. Nor...whatever that phenomenon had been prior, which must be some sort of bug.

    ...who could frighten Nekro? Who or what could...

    She didn't have time for this.

    She focused, and her systems adjusted to her intent as her environment suddenly seemed sharper, more distinct.

    Her sensors located a hostile quite close to her position as she tried to reestablish herself.

    The one who got away...

    As before, her chest cavity opened, and her heart attached sickly yellow tendrils to herself, restoring her energy. She remembered the thing that had seen her. Was this where that surge of energy after she had battled the hellhounds been, that moment that was both so close and so far for being close in her mind? She remembered the gaping maw of fear that had overtaken her in the Death Dimension. But she also remembered the sensation after the battle prior. It had been like...being inside that woman who had been devoured by the hellhounds, except without the fear, and the pain, and the ending of life. Maybe she could take some of that life to help her here.

    She reached out and touched infinity. Instantly she knew she had made a mistake. Alarms screamed at her as she came face to face with something impossible - and then suddenly it vanished.

    Jane realized she was somewhere else now. There was the sound of dripping water, and ominous humming that seemed to come from all around her. Jane's auditory processors dissected the sensation around her and reported that it emanated from indeterminate origin. This was not because they weren't able to pick up any source, but because there were too many sources. The sound must be audible for miles, they told her. Unmoving, Jane's eyes flickered around the room, orbs of emerald light moving on black crystal spheres. She was in an industrial setting of some sort. She recognized this form of facility intimately, even though the specifics were not known to her. This was a factory for constructing robotic lifeforms akin to herself. There were any number of experiments performed before she had been the sole success, she knew. She could see various birthing pods before her.

    Jane cautiously retracted her pistols, turned and froze. Before her was another, who had turned around in that same moment. She was about as tall as Jane, but human. Dressed in a full plate armor of some sort, shining brightly despite the signs of recent use, she noted distantly, eyes tracking the bloodstains down the sides of it.

    Not her blood either.

    And she carried a sword with strange glowing runes carved into the flat of the blade, which she held before her. The other's eyes tracked her alertly, but calmly.

    After this reverie, Jane remembered her situation. She jerked her gun arms up, blurring with all the enhanced speed and twitch reflexes that came from a lifetime of assassinations.

    And despite this she was too slow, as the warrior before her simply raised her sword upwards, from where it was pointed at her chest to Jane's throat, a movement that was simply accomplished with a flick of her wrists. Jane felt the tip of it touching her neck. It burned white hot. Even without a deliberate effort it seemed very able to both melt and cut through her chassis.

    Perfectly still, Jane stared at the human before her. She realized what the source of the confusion was in various subroutines as she had attempted to gain the upper hand. The human before her was a mirror image of her, but organic. No, somehow she knew it must be her. She could see the same realization dawning on her doppelganger's face. Shock flooded through the other's expression, slightly comical as Jane saw most organic expressions or emotion.

    How troublesome it must be, to be a mass of chemicals.

    Then the other lowered her sword and reached out with an unarmored hand. For some reason, Jane did not feel the urge to attack. This all felt oddly natural. This too, she had felt before.

    The hand touched her face, and she felt warm flesh. In fact, she realized, her face, somehow, was also warm flesh in that moment. And then she was back on the sludge filled battlefield, re-energizing herself.

    The tendrils from her Heart of Darkness seemed to change color, becoming something purer, cleaner somehow. And she was made more whole in this refueling than any she could remember. This warmth reminded her of another memory, one with Duke. For a moment, she stood tall and still and straight. She knew instinctively that this was no bug. Something was very important about this vision of life that this place had granted her and the increased energy flow that had resulted from it. Yet she also knew that she would have to revisit this later. This battlefield held too many targets to sit around contemplating. As she eyes Kowalski, her face breaks out into a knowing, predatory grin as she thought back to the lesson with Duke.

    Yes, that will do nicely.

    In her playback function, Jane heard music as she accessed the recorded memory, light and airy...and then she leapt up into the air, rotating at a sudden, impossible rate, arms at her sides with pistols in both hands. Kowalski only had a split second to see the shadow of Jane's form pass over him before a blistering volley of fire tore through his surroundings and then stitched a path through the dirt and into him, starting from the bottom right side of his torso to his left shoulder. Her left, then, as she spun and her arm swept past, right, revolver blared a series of shots so fast they sounded like automatic fire from a fixed gun emplacement.

    She landed, her left leg extending out to slow her momentum, before coming down flat behind her as she slid backwards in a fashion that seemed unnatural on dirt. Then she flung her head back. At this distance, the others were too far to see exactly what had happened, but they did see a cloud of approximately 2 dozen shiny obsidian-colored bullets fly into the air in an expanding pattern as she leapt once more, spinning in the opposite direction. The chambers of her revolvers opened, and with machine-like, impossible precision, as she reached her apex of her jump once more, each bullet entered the open cylinder of the revolver in the hand pointed forward at Kowalski as she swept her revolvers before her. She fired as each bullet slipped in, so casually and easily that it was as if she had performed this unconventional reloading maneuver hundreds of times. At no point did she even alter her position in the air by reaching or contracting her arms from the circular motion, so precise was her trajectory calculations as her processor whirred with the stress of performing multiple calculations considerably more complicated than the simple drawing of a straight line from firearm to target. Despite all this, Jane only heard the strings and brass instruments from the song that had played some years ago.

    The chattering fusillade of bullets once more sprinted through the dirt, this time crossing the opposite angle and direction from prior, coming down from Kowalski's right shoulder to his left hip, making an X of bullet holes slamming home into the slight figure.

    With one last repetition, a toss of her head, a jump, and a spin, the obsidian bullets emerged above her head like gnats on a hot summer day. She collected them all in her spin with a final volley. This time the angle was almost vertical, and Kowalski's body is battered as bullets race across the soil and nearly split him from groin to forehead. The spent corpse dropped to the ground, burbling and melting at unnatural speed until it became just another purple splotch on the ground.

    Still spinning slowly upon touching ground, she surveyed the rest of the battlefield. The music ended with a flourish.

    She watched as the other enemies did not respond at all. In fact, they seemed preoccupied with attacking each other and she realized that this must be the product of the nanites surrounding them. The nanites she had disregarded surrounding Kowalski in her eagerness to strike as simply insectoids.

    Cassa.

    Jane wondered what else this other machine lifeform was capable of. A plasma gun, a deadly physical strike, and now some form of mental manipulation was quite a wide ranging weapons suite. Then she spotted the others. With relatively little danger at the moment from what she can tell, she made her way over to them.

    "Did you make any new allies in that building?" she inquired of Krys, confidently striding through the purple sludge-soaked grounds.

    "Several party members appear to be absent," she added, looking around. "Has so much time passed since my transportational failsafe engaged?"

    As she strode over, without pausing or even turning to look Jane's right arm jerked over to empty a shot into the prone Commander's chest region, the bullet slamming into him, piercing his badge, and striking with enough force to turn him over from where he lay on the ground into a roll sending him several feet away.
    Last edited by Postmania; 06-06-2023 at 08:14 PM.

  11. #311
    Legendary God of Pirates Nik Hasta's Avatar
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    As the party reunites in the muck, the two Brutes fall upon each other - great balled fists swinging and striking. It's curious, while their muscles are large and powerful, the party cannot help but feel that neither one is taking any damage as rubbery fist connects with rubbery body. There is a dull echoing thud with each impact, like striking leather-wrapped steel with a huge tire but no cries of pain or distress. It feels, in a strange way, almost performative.

    As Kinu herself had felt when throwing hands with them, these things were clearly highly resistant to blunt trauma. While Cassa had distracted them, it was only a distraction and not a method of dealing with the problem. The party can tell that their small minds are flexing against the control currently held over them, their strikes seeming less violent than their previous efforts against the party themselves.

    - The Tire Brutes have 2 turns of being inflicted with Control remaining.

  12. #312
    The Weeping Mod Sharpandpointies's Avatar
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    *quick edit*

    Post moved to below.
    Last edited by Sharpandpointies; 06-07-2023 at 06:34 PM.
    Why are we here?

    "Superboy Prime (the yelling guy if he needs clarification)..." - Postmania
    "...dropping an orca whale made of fire on your enemies is a pretty strong opening move." - Nik
    "Why throw punches when you can be making everyone around you sterile mutant corpses?" - Pendaran, regarding Dr. Fate

  13. #313

    Default Catching up

    OOC: Suppose this post happens just a moment before the above action by Krys?

    Quote Originally Posted by Sharpandpointies View Post
    Kinu sloshes through the mire toward Krys, the warrior unbowed despite her injuries. A heavy hand comes down on Krys, but not to crush; gratified at the assistance, Krys pulls themselves a touch straighter - still slumped, but unquestioningly yet defiant. Another hand - surprisingly gentle - brushes their eyes clear; Krys spits gummy water and blood. "One piece is a relative thing," they whisper, their voice cracking. Then Kinu raises her voice to roar a command, rolling it across the battlefield like thunder.

    And the mechanoid obeys.

    It rises, vomiting forth a cloud of nigh-invisible machines that swarm open space in search of their targets. This time they bypass the wounded Krys, instead settling on their enemies; Some kind of attack, is all they have time to think before the mechanoids own orders roll out, and now it is their enemies who obey, turning upon one another. Another cough wracks Krys, crimson threads sliding from the corners of their mouth, but somehow they manage a smile. "I'd have preferred...something different," they choke out, "but...it's tactically sound." Craning their neck, burned and seared muscle afire with complaints, Krys glances up at Kinu, peering through their fouled, lank hair. "Enemies of our enemies," they croak through a throat filled with broken glass. "Not so interested in our help, but not out to kill us either, and definitely against this bunch."
    "Point is, you can still stand, and you can get your payback, yeah?" Kinu started as she let them go. "Not the way I'd like to do it either, Chromejob over there been holdin' out on us."

    No sport in it, either...that don't mean it's pointless, however.

    At the mention that they didn't so much have makeshift comrades as much as allies of convenience, Kinu's gaze fell and a raw grumble took her throat.

    "This swamp's got big fishes reporting to bigger ones. Didn't know there'd be bog leeches looking to hitch a ride," she said, "But sometimes, it's more about sending a message."

    Releasing Krys, Kinu bound her left hand into a fist. In an instant, the Hellhound loosed its fire on the commander, sweeping the legless sludge-man off his boneless feet once again. As the patch of swamp crackled with hellfire embers, she felt the disgust fuel her, and win that, found a mote of fresh inspiration.

    "When you wanna talk about the law, you best be carrying a torch for something worth respecting-"

    Yet the instant she heard the heavy thud of granite fists slamming ineffectually into rubber flesh behind her, whatever lucid thought had gathered into Kinu's head was scattered like so much dust. Over and over again, they struck, mingled limbs, and attempted to tear each other apart.

    "...in a sad way, this is kinda impressive," she noted, "these blockheads are way tougher than they look."

    The transmogrefied mud pulled as she tried to move, suction ensuring each step was a struggle. She wouldn't be able to get far at this rate.

    "I'll keep an eye on them, go! Close it out, and let them all know not to screw with ya!"
    Last edited by grampagen; 06-07-2023 at 06:24 PM.

  14. #314
    The Weeping Mod Sharpandpointies's Avatar
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    Gunfire splits the air and relief spikes through Krys as Jane floats back and forth above her target, blazing away with the weapons she carries within herself. Reloading happens with such speed and precision Krys can hardly follow it, with barely a break in the gunfire, and the enemy goes down, their body shattered by the fusillade of obsidian rounds. Then there's Jane, striding towards them, unharmed and...oddly different, her carriage altered, her bearing stronger. Something, Krys surmises, has changed for the woman. And she has questions. Unfortunately, it's not the time for answers; Krys has no idea how long the enemy commander will be down, or if Jane's careless, yet brutally precise gunshot will finish...him? It? It doesn't matter.

    "Stand, yeah," they rasp in reply to Kinu. "Just."

    But it's enough, and this battle needs to be over.

    A single instant, and their perceptions once again shift; focusing on themselves, on the long chain of themselves stretching through all four dimensions, Krys chooses the furthest they can manage - one midway through the shockwave, as the acid fluid pours over them, but before the iron spike pierces their body. That pattern is impressed upon their current pattern; it resists, but ultimately reshapes and remembers. Kinu's words ringing in their ears, still burned, still exhausted, Krys covers the ground between themselves and the enemy leader with implausible swiftness; once again, they moves no more quickly than before, but somehow arrive in a heartbeat. And as they close, Krys' vision sharpens, sharpens again, and in her eyes, the world dissolves into dancing waves and threads, weaving amidst crystalline forms of surpassing beauty. In the eternal instant that Time out of Time affords Krys, they study the brilliant creature before them, seeing its injuries, its weakened places, its connections and cleavage points. Almost, Krys hesitates, for here, outside of Time, all things hold beauty; the superficial, subjective judgements of different races have no meaning.

    But injured or not, the enemy is potent, the enemy is determined, the enemy wishes to kill and the control upon it may not last more than moments.

    Life Krys considers, is an illusion, but a very solid and precious one for the living.

    I'm sorry.


    A leap takes their wiry body full-on to the enemy leader; their right hand grips the bullet-holed badge. It pulls and the left stabs down in a palm strike, the arms creating a shearing force, tearing the badge free. From there, it's a matter of a single, fluid movement to whip the badge up, around, and slam it - edge down - into what passes for the enemy's skull, beneath the sloughing, liquid skin, driving between two plates like a blade. Gasping, hands shaking, Krys lets it go, leaving the badge embedded in her enemy's head; slowly they rise to stand straight. For a heartbeat, they stare down at the corpse, questions passing through their mind, questions never to receive an answer. Then Krys begins to turn, stumbles, and staggers off the bloated body, reeling to catch themselves in a near-crouch. Slowly their head rises, and they peer through the curtain of their lank, sodden hair to study Jane.

    "Good to...see you back," Krys coughs out, one corner of their mouth twitching in an almost-smile. "Sure there's a story. Can't say...we have allies, though." They blink, struggling to focus. "Anyone seen...Nemo and Rae?"
    Why are we here?

    "Superboy Prime (the yelling guy if he needs clarification)..." - Postmania
    "...dropping an orca whale made of fire on your enemies is a pretty strong opening move." - Nik
    "Why throw punches when you can be making everyone around you sterile mutant corpses?" - Pendaran, regarding Dr. Fate

  15. #315
    Legendary God of Pirates Nik Hasta's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Sharpandpointies View Post
    But injured or not, the enemy is potent, the enemy is determined, the enemy wishes to kill and the control upon it may not last more than moments.

    Life Krys considers, is an illusion, but a very solid and precious one for the living.

    I'm sorry.


    A leap takes their wiry body full-on to the enemy leader; their right hand grips the bullet-holed badge. It pulls and the left stabs down in a palm strike, the arms creating a shearing force, tearing the badge free. From there, it's a matter of a single, fluid movement to whip the badge up, around, and slam it - edge down - into what passes for the enemy's skull, beneath the sloughing, liquid skin, driving between two plates like a blade. Gasping, hands shaking, Krys lets it go, leaving the badge embedded in her enemy's head; slowly they rise to stand straight. For a heartbeat, they stare down at the corpse, questions passing through their mind, questions never to receive an answer.
    The Commander burbles incoherently as the shard of metal stabbing into his brain does its grisly work. Krys sees, just for a moment, a slight eruption of grey goo around the edges of the wound, foaming and mingling with the blood and toxic slime that leaks from his skull. The nanites from Cassa are still doing their work, even as life fades from his large a bloated eyeballs, his hands are driven upward and try to reach toward his men who continue to exchange blows in a Sisyphean display of combat.

    "Gotta - gotta - kill mur boys," he mutters, as he strains towards a target that is firmly out of his reach. As his strength fades further and the light in his eyes goes very dim, he looks at Krys and slurs unintelligibly; "Yer... yer... this is... mrdr - 'um killd yer - pshgg urgh uurrr,"

    His body slumps and he is still, passed on from this world and left lying the filth and stench of his own making. His body starts to split and fluid leaks into a large puddle in the crater he is lying in from the explosion - a toxic soup of slime, corroded bones and, floating in the middle, a NYPD Police hat.

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