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Two if by Sea (Last Chance Raid)

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Location: Beaches

Allies: @PurplePanda @Zashiii @Grubbistch @roboblu 

Enemies: @amenities @Twitterpated @Aleksei @Fierach 

Objective: Murder Mike. 


Michael was fast, there was no argument to be had there. He whipped around Dredge almost faster than the eye could blink and delivered a hard slice to his armor. The man’s blade of light tore into the dark armor, sparks flew as the holy blade slide from his upper left shoulder and down to his lower backs. Thankfully his armor was more than battle tested, it was an amalgamation of darkness and evil that was forged in the deepest pits of malicious empires now long past. All of Michael’s speed and strength would not be able to break it in a single blow, perhaps with a sustained assault, but that would not come to pass due to one edge that Dredge had on Michael. 


There was no doubt that Michael had seen war, he had seen famine, disease, death, and the worst that villainy had to offer. He had been beaten up, chewed on, and spat out by the system that was Terrenus’ dark side. But Dredge, Dredge was not of Terrenus. He wasn’t even of this universe. Michael was dealing with an evil that he had never seen before, and this evil had the one thing that Michael did not. Age. The experience that comes with age and the knowledge of what to do next down to an instinctive and almost genetic level. Yes, Michael was a battle hardened warrior. But he had not conquered worlds. He had not lead billions of lives and crushed all resistance under an iron fist. He did not sack the planets of the Galaxy’s most guarded planets and face down some of the brightest and strongest heroes to walk the globe. Dredge on the other hand had. 


So as black ichor splashed against Michael’s face from his blade digging into a weak point on the armor’s back near the hip, Dredge moved. With a firm elbow shooting backwards, it would collide with the hero’s chest and give Dredge enough time to whip around and hold his palm out in front of Michael’s chest with his palm laid flat and his fingers pointing to the sky. 


There would be no words. No catch phrase or quip that would be sealed into the minds of those around them. Only energy. 




A blast of telekinetic energy would slam into Michael’s chest with the driving force of van hitting him dead center of the chest without stopping. It would drive him through the air and across the battlefield letting everyone see their brave and mighty leader be shot across the beach by Dredge. Legion forces would cheer and fight harder against their human oppressors. Spurred be Dredge’s racist, evil, and vile rhetoric and the sight of his power. The would fight for their dark lord. 


Purposely shooting Michael over to the medical tents where explosions were going off, Dredge figured he’d slay the wounded once he delivered the killing blow to Michael. Which he intended to do right now. 


Power flowed into his legs and his speed augmented to the point where he ran across the battlefield in nearly a flash. Lifting his blade above his head, Dredge would burst through the smoke with his blade leveled up high and would intend to finish the downed man with a twisted smile on his own face.









Objective 2  



Location: Prison East Wing 

enemies: Terric Military 

allies: Legion forces 

Objective: Prison Break 

Everything had gone sideways within the blink of an eye. But that was the job, wasn’t it? To adapt, adjust, and then succeed. At least that’s what they were trained to do, told to do by not only Dredge but some of the most elite trainers in Terrenus. But none of them could of prepared them for this madness. Their Lord Commander while under fire had smashed through the prison walls with technology that any in Terrenus had ever even dreamed of had fired a massive blast of what appeared to them to be magical energy into the floor of the prison that burned a hole into the earth rather than they could see. It was a surreal moment that had taken all of them by complete shock. 


They had heard tales of the Lord Commander’s Powers and prowess in combat,  but this. This exceeded all the folk tales and scuttlebutt rumors that had existed on base. This was true power and it had frightened each and every battle hardened commando to their core. 


”That just happened right?” the Troll Commando known as Hardbluff said with a stunned voice.


”Fuck me dude.” Tenchi the Hobgoblin said in disbelief. 


There was another moment of silence before another voice broke out. 


”GET DOWN!!! Reactions and reflexes came into action. 


Following after the Lord Commander was of course his enemies. Gun fire, explosions, and spells slammed through the opening and Kwova had to grab the young female blood elf known as Hivie and take her to the floor. 


Everyone else had hit the deck. Fire ran through their position and Kwova had to shout to make his orders known. 


”SERGEANT!!! MAKE A HOLE!!” He yelled out to Uslet. 


Without hesitation the female orc Sergeant stood up and grasped her war-hammer. With one single and strength augmented blow she cracked through the prison walls and created a hole to which they could fall into. 


”MOVE OR YOUR DEAD!!!” Sergeant Uslet yelled as she stood by the gaping hole in the wall. 


Quickly shifting and moving the squad one by one pushed through the entryway until they were in the next room with considerably less gunfire being shot at them. 


”SEAL THE BREACH!!” Kwova yelled as he dove through the breach.  


Uslet being the last to step through, she raised  up her hammer over her head and at the last second a round struck her in the chest. It sparked off her armor and she fell backwards with her hammer hitting the ground with a thud. 


”MAN DOWN!! MAN DOWN!!” Tenchi yelled as he rushed to Uslet’s side. 


Breaking out his trauma kit, Tenchi pulled out a roll of gauze. However a large orcish fist came and slammed him across his helmet. 


”I’M FINE ASSHOLE!!” She yelled as she stood back up. 


Grabbing her war-hammer off the ground, with one last grunt of effort and strength along with a bit of magic augmenting her strength. The breach was sealed by the tumbling and cascading rubble that was her strike to the surrounding area. 


”No time to celebrate! On me!” Kwova said as the commandos formed up and would hopefully gather their bearings as to where they now were.

Edited by Dredge

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Legion of Doom

Beach (Saving Private Ryan)


Jinsoku ( @Twitterpated )

In that split second where the rotation of Jinsoku’s elbows took place, Ochigo reacted. His right hand flew upwards to intercept the blade of the naginata. His palm wrapped tightly around the blade as it slid across his armor. Sparks flew as steel rubbed against steel, but the death knight realized that the force of Jinsoku’s two-armed weapon would soon overpower his one-armed hold. However, what the one armed hold did grant him was flexibility. Pulling the weapon back, with the daemonslayer’s apprentice with it, Ochigo stepped into his personal circle as the weapon was forced into a parallel with their bodies. Left fist clenched and still smoking with corrupted energy, he delivered a powerful uppercut that would strike Jin in the abdomen, the consequences of mere contact possibly outweighing those of the impact.





None (Currently)


Quite peculiarly, the battle for Last Chance seemed to be waged with an abnormally large number of war beasts. The elven woman observed the creatures of Perestroika with much intensity. From the treeline that she was concealed in, three snipers were at the ready, guns polished and prepared to lay waste to anything that came near them. Strapped to the bodies of each of the snipers was a suicide vest. In this covert operation, nothing was a worse consequence than discovery. Death was always the better alternative over capture.

But the elf had her reasons for not wearing a vest. This reason stood next to her at 9 feet tall, easily dwarfing most of the battle mounts that were currently in view. Wings folded neatly at the side, the massive bat-like creature almost looked like another tree in the treeline, with its dark fur and head buried in the leaves. The elf stroked the creature’s side as she pulled a scope out from her pocket and used it to observe the fighting parties. This was unlike Tormo, or the Red Festival. This was a battle that had drawn nearly every significant party in Valucre. This was a piece of history that was essential to witness firsthand.

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Character Name: Shanti
Affiliation: Good Guys.
Create a protective barrier in a specific area of the city to protect innocents.
Expand protective barrier 3ft. each post
↪ ∎
Allies: @amenities
Enemies: @Dredge


Shanti had finally reached the opening to the beach; the debris from the battles happening around her made it terribly difficult to maneuver about. In one particular moment, something had crashed into the market next to her, making buildings lean against each other and causing a ruckus that would more than likely alert the rest of the military. She had taken some debris to the face, slicing her cheek and the side of her head, coloring her hair a deep red. She looked a mess and felt a mess, but the atmosphere had pushed her forward.

By now the shield around the buildings has been completed; a bright blue beacon only those with the gems could enter and leave. She hadn't heard if anyone made it out of the tents in the middle of the city, so she allowed herself to hope that they had and they're safely locked behind her barrier. Hoping for anything less, thinking of anything less than that - she couldn't. 

The world slowed down, giving her a vicious sight to behold. She had entered battle just in time to see the main enemy be confronted by a gentleman of unknown origin, but by the looks of it, he was on her side of this struggle. 

Time can't be wasted on admiration; Shanti moved towards the tents to begin the evacuation there. Though it finally happened, the time had given her what it could and was now going to start taking back what it was owed. Explosions were going on, rocking her some, making her ears ring, and her teeth clatter against one another. A few times she fell, forcing her to crawl, but she was going to get there no matter what - crawl, fly, walk, or run.

Using her staff to stand up, the elf was in time to see something fly towards the medical tents. That something turned into someone. Quickly, Shanti ran and opened up her arms to catch the thrown individual, the heels of her boots digging into the sand as the impact pushed them both back into a stumble. When they collided, she held him tightly against her as they rolled about before stopping in the sand, explosions still going off around the two.

Her staff survived the collision, and she thanked the All-Creator for such luck. 

"Don't move."

Her voice shook from the impact and the total surprise of catching him. It worked, she thought proudly but made sure he didn't see her awe.

"Let me ... help you."

It hurt to take deep breaths, the pain wrinkled her brows and caused her right-hand shake as it waved above his face. There was something on his face - disgusting, dark. The elf's magic caused her fingers to glow as it began to purify the ichor that had gotten on the gentleman's face. It was slowly working, but it didn't matter how fast or slow she was going, Dredge had other plans as he sliced through the battlefield at a pace Shanti could not prepare for.

Just a glance over her shoulder and she knew it was too late to do any sort of healing to the man in her arms. So she did the next best thing.

It just felt like the right thing to do, if she had to sacrifice herself to save another life, she will do so willingly. There was no time for regrets, even though they attempted to trickle through her reasoning. None of it mattered, she was already making amends for her mistakes and quickly moved to protect the man; her right arm went underneath his neck, pressing his head against her right shoulder, her other arm snaked around his torso as she leaned forward over him. 

In a terrible act of desperation, she attempted to create a small burst of deflection. With her main objective being the barrier around the buildings inside the city, Shanti had weakened herself minute by minute to keep it up, then keep it expanding outwards to reach more buildings, more people. 

Pitiful in comparison to battle readied men and women in the field, the elf attempted to conjure a shield across her back to slow the blow that would more than likely kill them both but the thought of at least trying prompted her to do so. Flecks of blue light danced around her armored back hurriedly, colliding and melting together in a thin line of protection. Shanti squeezed the man in her arms, almost apologetically because she knew by the sheer force that this was not going to end well. 

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Character: Mayumi Takamori

Location: @Tenkai Matsumoto @Djinn&Juice 

Enemies: Perestroika, Tenkai, Dragons


Neither of them noticed her. Realization in her angered, betrayed state came much easier than her normal one. It was almost too much to handle, and the small elf felt herself slipping into the darkness as tears of rage filled her eyes. Her nubby teeth ground together, stained with ichor. If they were not going to notice her, then she will make them notice. The last of the shaking stopped and the plaster of rage dropped completely from her face to make room for the hollow focus. She would make them regret not noticing her. Four tendrils flopped out, and then a loud CRACK as her small, unnoticed form flew through the air at the dragon that Perestroika was seen using. All four of her tendrils quickly whipped around the dragon's oily, sticky neck. They could absorb all they wanted from Mayumi, it would only aid in this next step. Even quicker then the tendril's wrapped all around the Dragon's neck multiple times did it compress together, but then as it started entering the rotting flesh and muscle Mayumi would start withering at the neck as she strangled the beast in her rage. 

The tendrils would absorb the dragon's energy, mostly converting into mass amounts of ichor from the decay. Within seconds and all of her tendrils wrapped around the dragon the withering would have been enough to have decapitate the massive dragon in seconds with all of Mayumi's stored strength and focus. Maybe things could have went differently if they had noticed her. Even if the dragon had retaliated and maybe took notice of her, it's surprised swipes as Mayumi was anchored to the dragon's neck would have been as easy as lifting herself in the air like a blackened pull-up. The rage showed through the hollow focus on Mayumi's face as she only wanted to see the creature die, to see it's massive head fall to the ground, to hear it's unholy scream. There were prices that needed to be paid for what had just been done to her. 

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Character Name: Ares Shezmu
Affiliation: Himself
Location/Objective: Prison Cell | Get the Hell Out
Allies: Dosen't matter
Enemies: Anyone who wants to shoot him

Ares was losing himself.

Or, specifically, about to. First was the fact that he murdered a rag-tag of delinquents in cold blood (he likes to say it was an accident); Second is that he is now jailed in one of the most well-guarded prisons in Terrenus (and the stinkiest one at that); and Third - after doing a bit of 'staring at yourself in the mirror for thirty minutes' - has now realized a very specific detail that has left his stomach swarming in butterflies.

The explosions? The presence of the Terran Military? All those gunshots?

This prison was driving him insane - it was the guilt and the soggy wet pillows, the soggy pillows that made a dirty information broker forget that the Legion of Doom was attacking the beach of Last Chance. He groans, laughing at himself internally. You. Mother. Fu- And while he cusses and pinches the bridge of his nose in foolishness, he feels vibrations against his feet - yelling voices that sounded close, but were so far. These disturbances become wilder in time, rumbling explosions, crackling firecrackers, he even watches how his disgusting bunk bed jolts to the side.

Is the Legion's doing? 

Should I hide? He begins, Stay in the cell? No, you imbecile! and begins as he continues to argues with himself, You want to stay here? Of course not! The shooting, the explosions that shuddered him to his very core all sounded like a time bomb, ticking all the way down to his metal cranium. Then get your ass moving.

Fine - fine!

When he comes to an agreement with both of the sides of his head, he picks the most logical choice that seemed tolerant to him. He doesn't care anymore if he were to ask the help of the literal army seeping of pure evil, the very legion that aims to watch the whole world burn - he'd do anything to hitch a free ride out of this place. Even if it probably cost him his life. Not every once in a while you get jailed and are met with a opportunity - an opportunity to escape.


His voice yells, banging on his cell door like his life depended on it. More guns, more boom, bang, ka-phooey! He hits his fist so firmly against the cell door that it dents, like metal against metal. He's frantic, wants anyone to hear him, but he notices - that all the other inmates were doing the same thing. With all their kinds of accents, he could describe most of the fellas yelling like; Ge'mme adda hee! Then he hears another voice. Voices, to be exact. Voices that sounded different from yelling soldiers, murderers and criminals, no, these voices sounded inhuman.

They had their own variety of tone, their strange accent, hoarse throats, as they all yelled at each other in a language he could understand.

No, now isn't the time to question it. It's time to bust out. Ares doesn't notice, but his fists of iron bone has ended up creating powerful dents, rough metal curving it's way outward and could be seen from the outside.


Geddim' adda hee.

Character Name: Ramsey Robicheaux
Affiliation: Terran Military
Location/Objective: Medical Tents | Assist the severely wounded - Evacuate
Allies: Military
Enemies: His stupid headache

He wheezes, absolutely out of breath from holding down a delusional soldier with the strength of ten men on a temporary hospital bed. In minutes a mage swept in to purify the mad man, in a second his face was headbutted with a nasty smack. He felt his nose crack and bruise - a winding feeling spiraling his forehead all the way to the back of his head. He swore there were birds flying around him, blood spurting out his nostril.

Doctor Ram hears the other doctor, the woman, exhale an exhausting 'thank you' - but he doesn't, because he's too busy fixing his goddamned nose-

"The tents are compromised!"

He hears this however, turning on his heel to glance at the upper ranked man. "Aw, fuck-" In the midst of him stuffing a tissue up his nose, he takes note of 'evacuate', 'evacuate', and goddammit just evacuate.

On his word, everyone packs up like there was no tomorrow. While everyone kept their equipment and began moving the injured out, Private Robicheaux runs outside the tents towards those new ones that were being brought in, those injured soldiers limping with each other, the ones being carried and held up. When he hurries towards a man, bleeding wildly from the side of his head, he pulls out a gauze. "Keep it tight," He says, as he puts the soldier's injured arm over his shoulder.

"The - tents.. at the beach,"

What? Aw,

"Fuck." He immediately knows what he means, but he focuses on reassuring the wounded. "We're gonna get you nice and patched up first, pal -" The first person he sees, Robicheaux motions them over with a hurried glance. "Kyle," He yells; Kyle was a private, like him - but an operations medic, tasked with dragging the critically wounded out the battlefield with barely their lives.

"I'm leaving this one to you -" He says, as he transfers the soldier from one shoulder to the other. "I'm heading to the ones at the beach."

This statement catches Kyle off-guard.


"Bet'cha a drink if I don't get blown up."

"Doc, hold on-"

Before the skinny soldier further questions him, Doctor Ram had already started dashing towards the direction of gun-blazing hell, yelling "Champagne!"

His boots stomp wildly on the concrete, speed picking up ever so fast with a gun in hand. The hot wind blows refreshingly against his oily face, allowing himself to feel like a stag in open season. Bang-bang-bang, boom! These noises all become so clearer and clearer with every step, a little bit too clear he'd complain. A voice yelling in his head numbing the fatigue; GO! GO! GO!

When he catches up to the areas of commotion, a stray bullet scratches his ear, but he does not feel this because adrenaline was rushing into his veins now, his heart pumping faster than the legs that carried him.

Few doctors and OPMED ran with him too, armed soldiers aiding in their defense since the medical branch was a specialized no-combat role. Private Robicheaux didn't care about that, though. He'll bring his gun anywhere; on his deathbed, to work, and in his sleep. He can't shoot what was coming next, though.

When they least expect it -


His body is pushed to the side by a blinding display of fire and utter destruction, he feels his ears ringing, that pumped-up voice in his head ever so yelling at his dazed thoughts. He stumbles, gets back up on his feet almost immediately, and everyone was back to running.

And in their sights, the beach nears. He hopes, he only hopes - that he gets that drink.


Edited by SweetCyanide

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Character Name: Feurerkönig

Affiliation: Legion of Doom

Location/Objective: Beach

Allies: Legion of Doom

Enemies: @Fierach

For eons, before the fusion that created Feurerkönig, the entity known as Feurer Krieger had spent the endless years fighting warriors all across the known landscape of the multiverse. In this time he had seen numerous fighting styles, defeating them all with his unlimited tenacity and unwavering rage to kill his opponent. Through this Feurerkönig has grown to recognize techniques, sometimes even before his opponent begins to initiate it. Clues could always be found if oh were clever enough, and Feurerkönig was more than just clever in order to deal with this situation. James would soon come to realize he had lost this fight before it even began.

It was obvious this human could withstand the intense heat that emanated off the fiery monarch. Most mortals crumbled beneath the intense flames that enveloped his body at all times, but this one was different. This knight was not only able to handle the high temperatures of his presence, but is also able to continue fighting with incredible speed and strength. Had he not been such an insolent little wretch, Feurerkönig would have felt compelled to humor him, to play with him and dance the dance or villain and hero, a back of forth of morality explaining why each side was in the right. After all his incessant mocking and impudence, Feurerkönig could only act like the raging titan of murder that he had always been since the very beginning.

When the fool chose to pierce his armpit with his hand, Feurerkönig gladly took the hit, feeling the hand inside his molten flesh, leagues hotter than the flames which danced across his body. Humanity had long since left him, cast aside for a new body, one of fire, of carnage, of absolute destruction upon the whole of Valucre. Already he could feel the flesh blistering, boiling away as it writhed in the fiery hell it's master had inserted it into, now completely trapped in it's prison. Just as soon as it pierced the stony exterior of the mighty kings skin, the outside hardened once more, ensnaring the knight in unimaginable amounts of pain, pain that was only just beginning.

Two things happened while Feurerkönig was making his move to counter the throw being attempted (if the pain wasn't too much already to stop it). First were the chains which wrapped around his body, now coming to life and wrapping themselves around the knight with a grip like a python. Burning chains of damnation were not the only thing the knight had to worry about, as Feurerkönig shifted his weight downwards, bracing his legs and digging in his heels to stay on the ground. Much to the human's dismay, the sword he wanted to so desperately intercept with his enemy now pierced straight through his midsection, sticking out of his stomach in all it's bloody glory.

"Do you feel that, hero?" He said as his shield was sent back to the ether, allowing his free hand to grab onto the blade and twist it in cruel fashion. "That is your life leaving your pathetic body." Again he twisted it, letting it be as painful as possible while the other sword rose to make it's strike. "It is a shame you will not see me cleanse this planet of it's pain and suffering." In that moment the other sword went down harder than the blade of Damacles, going straight into the base of his neck downwards, directly aiming for his beating heart. "Now who is weak?"

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Character Name: Agony / Dolor Aeternum

Affiliation: Abaddon Triumvirate

Location: Market of Last Chance, then open area where Michael and Dredge fight

Allies: None

Enemies: None…yet

Threat Level: Currently minimal (Monitored by Terric forces)

Interactions: @Dredge - direct

@amenities @Aleksei - indirect


Lathered in Mayumi’s black ichor that had begun to slide off of Obtenebra’s hardened texture, crimson eyes seared through the wayward patrons of the Market who either remained dumbfounded that the fight had finally breached into the marketplace or cowered in fear. A few brave and ambitious entrepreneurs voiced their disdain for this whole ordeal which would likely cost them a day or even a week’s worth of profit. They held no restraint as insults were launched toward Agony still in his Dredge guise.


“Go somewhere else already!”

“You couldn’t have attacked some place as worthless like Yh’mi?! Or the devil in Patia?!”

“Yeah! Go back to whatever hellhole you came from. Gaia will protect those who are worthy!”


Cretins. The lot of them, too engrossed in their quotidian affairs and too engulfed in their own entitlement to realize how insignificant they all were to the warring factions around them. Were he not under the scrutinizing gaze of the Terric military, he may have saved them from their insignificance by consuming them whole but instead he perpetuated this charade and saw it fit to let loose words fitting of the hubris Dredge owned relentlessly.


“You humans have persecuted and trampled over this legion I have amassed for far too long. Witness how puny and inconsequential your pampered lives are to everyone around you!”


A sudden dispersion of telekinetic force thrust itself from his position, causing some of Mayumi’s black ichor to spray outward but not before Obtenebra had begun absorbing a good portion of it to learn from the small girl and surpass the powerful potential it held. The market’s goods were now stained in the ichor, its corrosive qualities damaging their merchandise. A bit of the liquid also fell upon many of the patrons of the marketplace, causing immense agony before they all began to turn on one another. Agony darted away from the center of this chaos and into a dark alleyway, using the shadows present within the area to envelop his form. Magnifying the darkness of the shadows and its reach, his form would become lost within the alleyway as Obtenebra began its shifting work again. Shadows were molded into an exact copy of this guise he wore. While titans and ants traversed this battlefield with what power they could wield, Agony’s purpose here was to avoid getting apprehended and seek gain surreptitiously from everyone involved. A minute or so would pass before a legitimate shadow copy of Dredge was created within the alleyway. Obtenebra rippled as his mass once again changed, this time into a figure far more compact than he had been before. A semblance of sunkissed flesh was created, covered in darkened robes with tendrils of black resembling hair coming out of the hood of the newly created garment. The physique he presented looked far more feminine though retained a noticeable height that was as uncommon as the movements he elected to initiate now. Leaving the dark clone in the alleyway, Agony let loose a shrill scream with a pitch worthy of his more feminine physique and then began to shout with a tinge of fear that aimed to divert suspicion.


“Run everyone! There are monsters everywhere! Stop fighting one another! Save your children…save your wives. Save yourselves!”


Agony was no amateur in his portrayal as arms flailed around and erratic movements were given that led him straight toward the open are near where Shanti had just managed to get to. As he was about to emerge from the narrow paths that led to the open street, he noticed the elf and some man shoot past him and toward an unforgiving wall. Recognizing the elf immediately but not caring to initiate any aid he just watched for a lengthy amount of time at their current predicament. Agony noticed Dredge leap above and toward the man with a display of athleticism that was admirable….to lesser beings. Mellifluous tones escaped the carefully constructed vocal channel he had created for this guise which made Agony sound like any ordinary female would in this circumstance.


“Noooo! Don’t hurt them….”


Feigning concern for Peacekeeper Michael and Shanti while yelling in Dredge’s direction, a very sly telepathic message was attempted toward Dredge that was short and enigmatic.


<“You’d do well to finish this fast unless failure fuels your promise”>


Standing tall a good distance away from all three of them, the feminine figure waited to see if any response would come though Agony was already preparing to leave them to their fates. If they did not intertwine with the Triumvirate then they meant nothing in the end.


  • Agony causes market patrons to go crazy with Mayumi's ichor while giving a speech as Dredge. He also hoards some of the ichor.
  • Using some shadow manipulation, Agony aims to throw off any surveillance by leaving a shadow copy of Dredge while transforming into a robed female.
  • In robed female form. Agony acts scared and heads out toward the open street while inciting more fear.
  • Stumbling into the battle between Dredge and Michael, Agony feigns worry for Michael and Shanti while sending Dredge an encrypted telepathic message.
Edited by Dolor Aeternum

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Character Name: Sabine Fenvaris

Affiliation: Captain of the Enforcers

Location | Objective: Retreating from the Beach | Making way to the safety zone

Allies: Force Majeure; Terran Military @Twitterpated @Fierach @amenities

Enemies:  NPC Raiders, @Grubbistch @Frostbinder


Sabine did not take well to losing.0ba3cf4fa2.jpg

And she certainly hated losing her own men, more.

Her armor was light enough to move—move faster than she needed to. The beach was the perfect place for her to be. The Earth was hers to command, and by the Goddess Thaus she had sworn the Oath to take all or her soldiers home!

The toes of her boots sank into the Earth as she ran onto the beach. Her Enforcers were engaged, steel hissing against steel. The acrid stench of magic wafting in the air. The scent of death and blood staining the sand, and sometimes carried away by the frothy ocean crests.

The enemy would turn on her, spears as deadly as her own this time around—for surely they could defeat a one-armed woman. Sabine had the glint of a maverick in her brilliant golden eyes. For the first time in a long while since the tragic events of the Kaess Festival, the Enforcers could remember why she was the Ironstride.

They came at her, again and again. And with resounding fury, she came at them. Down at once they thought to wall her, and she retaliated, throwing them back. She stomped the ground, and the ground heeded her command, throwing their balance off. She hurled her spear at the unfortunate soul to receive it in their throat. They crumbled to the ground, dead.

They came in droves, for they were angry now. Yes, she snarled, give me your spear! A thrust from one, and she caught it. She redirected the shaft to intercept another. She hooked her stump around these spears and squeezed hard enough to lock them in place, absorbing the shock as more rained down upon her uselessly. They retreated to understand their next tact, but Sabine was already moving. The spear in her grasp, she broke the shaft over the other pressed between her stump and side. Taking the spearhead, she thrust it into the mouth of her foul oppressor and threw him back as she sent another vicious kick to her second opponent, which jerked the shaft of their spear from their grasp.

Sabine felt her stance recover as she took the newly robbed spear into her left handed grasp. More came. As they came, she would stab, and then rob. Then stab the next and rob from them. Down the beach she utilized this tactic. Some were better at resisting, but Sabine was all muscle and ferocity. Wiser to her tactic they kept their distance. In that moment, Sabine seemed less human and more beastly than ever. She moved with such swiftness, such assured of power that it was hard to believe she was missing an arm at all.

Perspiration and dirt caked her features, but her eyes blazoned with a reminder that she was not weak. She reached for her shaft of her spear, still embedded in the unfortunate life she took. Its name was TITAN, and names held some measure of power. It had been inherited from Efrideet, whose ashes were buried with seedlings. A tree would grow, and Sabine hoped that it would become a mighty Oak, a titan of a tree like the lady it was born from. She would someday refurbish TITAN with the Oak from Efrideet’s tree. Her lover would remain with her, always.

“GREEN SHIELDS, TO ME.” She bellowed. It was always what she called her recruits. She was the only Captain of the Enforcers. The first female knight of color to do so. Sabine was the epitome of defiance and resilience. “We’re falling back!” She called out, to the chagrin of her in-subordinates who looked as outraged as she inwardly felt. Sabine reached into her pool of power, and in doing so, she touched the Earth. The dunes of sand stirred—stirred as though a massive hand dipped and swept it around. It only took one metaphysical slap to send a wall of sand into the air in a great spray—a screen as her Enforcers struggled not to be left behind. No doubt it would startle those around her on the beach, as plumes of sand shot up at high as forty feet. Even as it rained down and settled, it would fan out in its landing. The Enforcers moved as quickly as they could to match the speed of the Ironstride, retreating back from where she had originally burst from to alleviate their stress. One of the Enforcers, a newer recruit from Ashville spoke up.

“That was—that is to say, Captain, you were—.”

“Be quiet.” Sabine cut the woman off sharply as she lumbered, focused and intent, “Thank me when we survive this.”

“Yes, Captain.” The Enforcer couldn’t help but smile, painful as it were. As hard as Sabine tried, the crooked smile on her lips betrayed that she as pleased with her work as well. “Listen up! The medical tents we’re making our way to are being relocated to a safety zone. I’m going to get you there for recovery. You are not to leave until I come back for you, is that understood?”

“How far away are we from that point, Captain?”

Rustling movement up ahead and all nine of them froze. All at once, five magical rifles snapped to point to the source, ready to fire on a potential enemy that would crest over the dune paths leading into the city. Sabine held her breath and hoped—prayed that it was who she needed it to be, or else their little game just got deadlier. Power pooled at her feet, ready to upend any offensive forces coming for them.

Thaus, be merciful.


This will segment into my next Rae post after work tonight~


Edited by Deus Ex Aizen

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Character Name: Jinsoku Hayabusa

Affiliation: The Order of Force Majeure

Location/Objective: Beach/First line of defense

Allies: @Fierach @amenities @Tenkai Matsumoto (Defenders)

Enemies: @Dredge @Grubbistch @Frostbinder (Raiders)

Jinsoku's baiting slash worked almost too perfectly according to his hopeful plan. Ochigo's right hand grasped the offending blade, and Jinsoku allowed him to. Earlier when Jinsoku clashed with his opponent at the beginning of this bout, he managed to toss him forcefully away, in which his own push back and landing was way more less. This was testament to their respective levels of strength compared. The bottom line was simple. Ochigo was a fool if he believed his one arm would be enough to pull against two of Jinsoku's arms. Not to mention that while Jin was at least just as flexible as Ochigo, maybe even more so. Regardless, he held the lower center of gravity, he had the better leverage. Still, he allowed the enemy to pull his blade as he stepped into Ochigo. While Ochigo planned on trying to uppercut Jin, Jin was prepared to counter. After all, he baited him thus far. Suddenly applying his full strength, Jinsoku activated the Yoki that was coiled around his muscles as a result of his preparedness. In this application, Ochigo would on perceive one fluid motion. However, the reality of it all was that he had chosen to supercharge his physique, increasing his speed to the point where he could commit two acts in the time it usually took for just one. 


+.] [Active] - Greased Lightning: Jinsoku is able to charge and release a single burst of localized electricity through his limbs. This is optional with discharging the electricity through his muscles, though instead of pushing said electricity outside the body for use, he can instead super charge his form to double his speed temporarily. (i.e. Jinsoku could perform two actions in the time it would take to complete one (or one extra action in one post).) 

Stepping ahead on his left foot, his upper body turned, ripping the blade free of Ochigo's grasp as he used the opposing end with the ishizuki to deflect the punch that was aimed at his abdomin. In seemingly the same instant, Jinsoku stood opposite of his initial stance with the weapon, only to thrust into the chestplate with the small metallic spade at the end of the handle that was the ishizuki. As the energy was spent through him, it left in it's wake a tingling sensation. It was as if there was an invisible needles just barely touching every pore on his body. This he was used to, and it would fail to hinder him or slow him down. The strike to the chestplate, if successful would have Jinsoku lunge after his opponent that would have been knocked back. With his Naginata hosting it's blade back and to his left, he held it with the blades edge at an angle, prepared to follow up with a fierce slash that would be the real deal, unlike the one he afforded his opponent in the moment prior. This one was angle to cut from Ochigo's right hip towards his left shoulder. As it moved to Jin's whim, the unique whistling of the weapon continued to sing it's song of inevitable despair.


1 Prep Available

Greased Lightning Activated (1+)


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Character Name: James Eredas

Affiliation: The Order of Force Majeure

Location/Objective: Beach/First Line of Defense

Allies: (Defenders)

Enemies:  @Grubbistch (Raiders)


Far from the fiery hell Feurerkönig might've envisioned James's fist having been plunged into, it was actually likely one of the few times his hand might've felt hot. It wasn't pleasant, but if the self-proclaimed Doom of Valucre thought the Daemonslayer would be in agony, he was, like the rest of his existence, tragically mistaken.

The cursed blade would strike a glancing blow across James's armored belt, flying past. Although the throw attempt was unsuccessful, the very action of trying, of twisting his body and attempting to toss Fuererkonig helped him avoid a potentially fatal blow. The strike drew blood, but it was ultimately of little consequence for now, as chains began to wrap themselves around James, animated by their master's malicious will. It seemed as if Kreiger was becoming desperate, calling upon every dark spell, magical ability, or hell-granted power he had just to keep from being thrown like a tin can, to keep him, the Fire King from being taken down by a mortal's strength.

It would avail him nothing. It was not going to be a matter of either's resistance to heat either. At their most powerful, either was still vulnerable to the other, with the depths of Feurerkönig's hellfire being an equal match for James's sacred flames. As it was, it was all about application. Brute force was nothing without direction and technique to hone it. The rage-filled mad knight's regenerative abilities were impressive, but it would be his own downfall. James's first attack had used the power of the Scourgewrought belt to amplify his raw physical strength. The next attack would be completely his own. Funneling all of his power, his fiery aura into his left hand, James would cast one of his most powerful techniques.

"Shin Soulchiou Style - Volcano Sword"

"First Tsurugi"

The Fire King would've been hard-pressed to defend against such an attack even in the best of circumstances. Performed instantaneously from within, he would have had no chance at all.


Like a miniature erupting sun, the powerful detonation that emitted from his fist would completely blow apart Feurerkönig's right shoulder from the inside. The accursed armor would be sent spiraling away from the force of the blow, shattering all chains from their grips and likely raining shards of scorched metal everywhere upon the immediate beachhead, with the right arm dropping somewhere else far from the body. Points if he had the strength of mind to try and impale the Daemonslayer still with the second summoned sword, but that would be caught in his armored right hand as deftly as if it had been an arrow.  James was certain Feurerkönig would survive this physically, but his pride? Maybe not so much. It was James's way, to crush his enemy both physically and mentally. There were mortals whom even gods did well to treat respectfully. James was one of them.

There was but one truth, the truth of the victor, the Daemonslayer's truth, and James's voice would ring out to his shattered foe now as he held up his smoking left hand clenched in eternal challenge, while his mask's demonic illusion winked out for just a moment to reveal the face of the man under it. 


"Know this. You've been lucky. You've simply been blessed with weak enemies up until now"

It would be hard to tell which was more like that of a monster.



(Dou) Hellish Shock Fist: Basic Dou Technique: An important aspect of James's special fire-laced melee strikes is the fact that he produces a highly focused blast of fire from his fists with every strike. Such an effect can injure, blind, and stun his opponent with a shockwave of force in addition to extreme burns. Comparable to the force produced by a small grenade, using this technique, James can increase his overall striking range, and his offensive capabilities. Hellish Shock Fist is accompanied by three sub-techniques. Armor Shock, Banishing Fist, and Tiger Step.

Banishing Fist: While in Dou form, James's flame attacks deal more damage to supernatural creatures.


(Dou) Volcano Sword: The epitome of James's Path of Dou techniques.  James empowers himself, often wreathing himself in flame via use of Burning Man, Spiral Dust, or Raging Inferno and gains supernatural speed during the course of the maneuver, lasting a few seconds, appearing like a blur to the untrained eye.


First Tsurugi: Takes the form of a single, overpowering Hellish Shock Fist derivative, possessing enough force to crumple or obliterate the strongest defences and send the mightiest opponent flying.


Edited by Fierach

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Character Name: Feurerkönig

Affiliation: Legion of Doom

Location/Objective: Beach

Allies: Legion of Doom

Enemies: @Fierach

An arm lost, his power defeated once again, his opponent looking down on him with contempt and smug satisfaction. Dire were the circumstances surrounding the battle between the master knight and the fiery king, even greater were the consequences should he lose this battle. This challenge was not just to draw him into a fight, it was to utterly break him and destroy the legend of terror he had been creating to instill fear into his enemies. Going back was not an option, being branded a coward was not an option, losing wasn't an option.

"No...I'm not done yet."

The destruction of his arm had staggered him, forced him to one knee, but still he rose to his full height. He was destruction, he was death, he was war incarnate. Even with such a crippling loss, there was yet hope for victory. In the seconds that followed, a new plan had formed, and he was ready to enact it immediately. "I'm not even close to being finished yet."

To defeat your enemy, you must first dismantle them, especially if they were stronger than you. Feurerkönig planned to go much farther than to take the knight apart, he was going to break him.

First was the sword, a relic which he knew to be of the possession of another being of great fire, though he did not know what its name was. With it, James could potentially end the burning monarch completely, something he could not possibly allow to happen. Using the same magic which transported his weapons in and out of the realm of the Slaughter Pit, his patron deity's domicile, the nodachi disappeared, swallowed whole by a portal which closed the instant it crossed the threshold. Such was the fate of those who were careless with their weapons, one never knew who would take them. Once the battle was over, he would reforge the blade into it's true and dangerous form.

At the next moment, the chains James had so foolishly allowed to get close to him came to life, wrapping around his arms, legs, chest and waist. Orange runes glowed upon each of the links of the chain, the spell being cast to drain the magic from the items James wore so proudly. Much to Feurerkönigs chagrin, the magical items possessed some quality which reduced the rate at which the spell could drain them of their magical qualities. In time this insulating characteristic would also be diminished, allowing the chains to further steal the unique traits of these pieces of equipment.

The clock was ticking, with both sides at risk of utter defeat. That which kept Feurerkönig in this fight likely also forced James to continue in this altercation, or else he would be branded a coward as well. Now the balance of power was continuing to shift, swinging in anyones favor if they were quick enough. Should James defeat Feurerkönig in time, the chains will release him and his armor would be restored, but if he should fail, then that which gave him his power would now go to Feurerkönig, giving him the lethal edge in this battle.

Two swords floating in the air, ready to thrust towards him at the right time, but careful not to break the chains which bound him. In his own left hand was another sword, sleek, smooth and burning with hatred. Time alone would tell the victor of this match. "Now...fight me!"

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Character name: The Lady Blackhead 

Affiliation: Legion of Doom / Black Spear Cartel

Location: Beach

Allies: Legion

Enemies: Terran Defenders/ Men in general?

_-)When the giant pillar of ew got peppered with heavy artillery fie, the Lady had no choice but to bail. Thankfully she had done what she came to do she would now assume the position of Dredge's second in command while he is busy fighting the Terran commander. The bony horror she had created had served both as an adequate meat..er bone shield and a wonderful source to refuel her energy. Like crows feeding on carrion.

She had been there in the beginning and yet she had gone unnoticed. Only when she had done something ridiculous like that giant pile of ew that she had gained a sliver of attention and not even from one of the main players in this war but from one of the unnamed, indistinguishable random soldiers, whose identites are easily lost in the sea of enemy faces.

A few before she notcied a rather dirty creature half buried in the sand. It only took her a few moments of unnoticed walking and a throaty laughter to figure out who it was. Long delicate fingers grasped the creature's head, the meticulously styled nails digging deep into its flesh. Like a pulling a rabbit ouf its hole, the Lady heaved upward, effortlessly lifting the pathetic and soiled creature that was Sera.

"FUCKER! THAT GODDAMNED HURT! YOU SONS OF BUTCHES! WAIT TILL I CUT OFF YOUR THAT HOLY SWORD BETWEEN YOUR LEGS AND SHOVE IT IN YOU MOU- oh that was actually you my Lady? Please accept my apologies I thought you were one of the enemy troops. I had sand in my eyes, ears and mouth that it was hard to distinguish anything at all. I truly did not mean to offend you. Surely you would have made the mistake as well if you were in my position."

The Lady had no idea whether to laugh or cry at her slave's outburst. So quick to anger, yet so quick to change tune as well for the sake of self-preservation. Truly a testament to what she had achieved in all these decades of grooming little kids like this. An irrittated sigh escaped her delectable as a migraine suddenly sprung inside her head.

Knowing that its pointless to keep on nagging at her subordinate after that shameless display of self-preservation, she opted to change the subject. Still lifting her subordinate effortlessly with one hand, she twisted Sera's head into a different direction and asked, "Tell me what do you see?"

"I see the Fire King and is that the Master Knight? Of the Seekers?" the poor servant asked, scrunching her face as if looking for more words to add to her observation but still failing miserably.

The Lady only nodded at Sera's answer, despite being satisfied with the girl's lack of observational skills. Once more she twisted Sera's head to another direction, the girl's body painfully following in accord.

"Now what do you see?"

"Um...Dredge and what seemed like the Terran leader are fighting?"

"No! Sera!" the Lady answered as fury bubble inside her, "This means these men preferred to swordfight with each other instead of with women!" 

"Surely there is nothing wrong with that my Lady?"

"Wrong? Tell how many women commanders are noticed in this beach assault? Close to zero! Even Mayumi had to jump over the wall and take it out on a dragon ridden by another woman!" 

"Um..but I don't think that's the issue here. I mean we do get assaulted by a lot of enemy fire?"

"From random soldiers! I knew I should have chosen a non-female body and brought myself a big fucking sword. That should show 'em."

"Um..I'm sorry my Lady but it seems you are simply seeking attention at this point"

"Silence! Now make yourself useful and save Eva! "

And with that the Lady threw her insolent subordinate in the Eva's general direction


Edited by Zashiii

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Marigold didn't expect his droids to survive such odds, and he was proud of their first field test at least. He wished he could do more, but hed only die going there personally, leaving the heroism for the hero's. He still watched from the cameras and looked on toward the chaos. This fight with Konig and James worrying him the most. They possessed a terrible catastrophe in the making. Their levels of heat and pressure having the potential to supernova....a devestating consequence for such hubris. The fight with Michael and Dredge fairing no better in it's intensity.

This was only getting worse the longer it went on, leering upon his prosthetic leg with infallible hatred. That horror show he suffered through taking it's fair share from the doctor. His hand begrudgingly gripping the cane leaned against the station. Marigold moving with a haggard gait, deeper into his laboratory

"I need a drink"


Oh my! What a wonderfully interesting creature that had freed him so! "My My, you possess a prolithic energy! I am most grateful" he said, with a wave of his hand; twisting spirals of magic springing forth from his fingertips in a prismatic display, reversing immediately back into his hands. "Still too weak for teleportation im afraid! A good stroll will do my lazy bones some jolly good!" He said with a waggle of his finger before floating up to Break "What a wonderful you pair you are! Little children marrying machines. What a strange future I've arrived in! Well tally ho and all that. Those jackanapes who locked me here won't be pleased so we best put some jump in britches!" His form continuing to hover out through the open door, despite having no clue where to go.

"Allons y!"



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Character Name: James Eredas

Affiliation: The Order of Force Majeure

Location/Objective: Beach/First Line of Defense

Allies: (Defenders)

Enemies@Grubbistch (Raiders)


Only when pushed to the very limit did his opponent show some teeth. The fool even spirited away Amaterasu, believing it key to his destruction. Amaterasu was different and weaker then its original form, and since its first purification and reshaping by the artisans of his clan in a furnace of Eredas flame, it would prove extremely resistant to any attempts to reshape it by Feurerkönig, whose existence was maligned by the blade. A second reforging may as well truly render the weapon inoperable.

In the end, it wouldn't matter. The Daemonslayer's contempt rose, and his anger burned hotter. The act of stealing his blade was a grave insult, fit only for the lowest and most base of brigands. Feurerkönig was no king, no engine of destruction. He was merely a petty thief with delusions of grandeur.

Feurerkönig's malicious intent was clear and present, and James appreciated that. As the chains came to life again, James merely drew the longsword at his waist with his right hand, stepping back and smashing them aside with a single defensive sweep before him in an arc. The arcane longsword's blade was possessed of an eerie blue light, and upon contact with the blade the chains wavered and lost their animated will, and lost their runed light, temporarily becoming nothing more then limp dead-weight. His left hand removed a small metal sphere from within his armor, and tapping a rune on it, the sphere enlarged itself and began draining the air of ambient mana. 

Contrary to what his opponent might've imagined, James did not really play the dance of hero or villain. It could be said that he too, was like Kreiger, as he was not native to Valucre, a wandering stranger from worlds distant, for whom the morality of the fight was merely a hobby. A man who sought challenge and combat, and the philosophy of battle, instead of the philosophy of why to battle, and whom constantly engaged in fierce competition with the strongest warriors a world could offer. 

But... there was nobody like James Eredas.

There was only James Eredas.



Longsword "The Rending Blade":

A powerful longsword, the Rending Blade is of an olden design, measuring almost five feet of blade and pommel. Six inches of sword where the base of the blade meets the hilt is blunt but ridged, allowing for an easy grip for half-sword techniques and the guard itself is fashioned in a decorative, if mostly still utilitarian fashion. The Rending Blade is crafted out of an unknown metal, and seems to resist all manner of damage and wear on the blade. When unsheathed, the longsword glows a dim blue with the power of an unknown energy field. The Blade is incapable of receiving empowerments or enchantments of any kind, because it weakens all magical, spiritual, psychic, and supernatural effects in its immediate vicinity, and nullifies said powers upon contact with the blade. 

The Rending Blade carries in itself fragments of the destroyed Chinese jian White Reflection. Like its ancestor, both sides of the Rending Blade are carved with characters, albeit of a different ancient language. When translated, the characters read: "What is the Terror of Death?" on one side, and "What is the Joy of Life?".



Type OX Compact Magic Converter MKVI, aka Mana Bomb


Edited by Fierach

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