Complete 18+ Main Story (S4 Finale) DRAGON.end - Phase 3

Harper · Feb 17, 2023

150 / 150

Health
+20 HP (Mitigation)

Status
▪ Location: ???
▪ Alone

"Gods, again telling me to not kill something... Are you much more of a softy than I thought, Mizu-!"

Harper would find herself interrupted by an all too familiar voice. Back in her hijinks with The Calculator, she and N had been separated from the rest of the group, and the beastkin witnessed her song first hand. And now she heard it again, but unfortunately this time she found herself up against it to her dismay.

Yet she would've found going against that better than what awaited her.

"...Ki?"

Darkness. The slabs were gone from her hands, and so was everything else. Her friends, her enemies, there was simply nothing.

Except herself. And even then, something was off. Looking at herself from head to toe there was factually nothing wrong with her, but she didn't really feel comfortable either. Her hair felt too long, there was something under the skin of her finger and toes, and the tail was now bothering her once more. She knew nothing about those things had changed, yet it felt like she was on a body she had never been in before.

"Mizuki! Luthien! Ash! ANYONE! HEEEEEEEEY!"

Silence. No one was there to answer her calls, and the lack of sensorial stimuli was already getting to her. An ever-growing ringing in her ears was only interrupted by her own heartbeat, the beastkin quickly finding herself losing her cool as her breathing became hasty, her eyes darting around trying to find someone or something in this closed-off space.

And her wish would be granted. Though she might've wished in hindsight that it hadn't.

Szofrid herself, in the flesh and the metal, was standing across her. The final enemy they had to defeat in all her glory. The usual talkative tigress stood silent. Because while the enemy in front of her was clearly corrupted into something unnatural, Harper herself currently felt the most human she had ever been in Terrasphere.

And when facing a world-ending threat, any sane human would be scared out of their minds.

However, Nicole Fairbanks was the type of person to neglect every other aspect of her day to drill down a move or tactic that got her in a past match until it wouldn't beat her anymore. She was also the type of person to look at any opponent, no matter how much more experienced or stronger they were, and think she had a chance to win.

In her mind, it took a certain lack of sanity to tackle any challenge in your way, no matter how insurmountable it may be, or to dedicate every fiber of being to becoming the best at your craft, knowing that there might be someone somewhere in the world that will also be doing that, yet be always be better than you, no matter how much effort you put in.

And it was this slight lack of sanity that kept Harper and Nicole from falling into fear-fueled despair.

Maybe she couldn't use her claws or fangs. Maybe her strength had left her. But there was one thing Szofrid couldn't take away: Her martial arts.

You were not the first. You will not be the last. But you are next.

"...Fwoosh."

A deep breath. Her eyes straightened, and her heartbeat slowed. Nicole entered her usual stance: Feet paralel, arms infront of her with open palms.

You are going to die.

"..."

No verbal answer, but her eyes showed clear defiance to the statement.

So FIGHT!

"OSS!"

She would meet Szofrid's rush head-on, barely dodging a life-ending slash as she got into her preferred range. Wasted movement gave the chance for a counter, so Harper would simply not allow any of it for Szofrid. Grabbing the general's elbow and collar as she stepped in, she would pull those grips to the side to break her balance and leave her weight on one leg before stepping onto the outside and sweeping that leg with her own, throwing Szofrid hard into the solid void below them with an Osotogari.

She still stood on her two feet, and she still could fight. Thus, Harper genuinly believed she had a chance against Szofrid alone. For that's the kind of person Harper is.

Rolls

(BA) Duelist
+30 bonus damage when you attack an enemy in melee.

Doubled due to Mechanics = +60

Harper
Ultra Counter
1d100 (68) + [60] + 15 + 15 + 60 = 218
218 damage in Total.
Ultra Counter successful, 60 damage added!
Mitigate 20 damage.

Duel
▪ Damage: 8547
▪ Build Sheet

Aerial · Feb 17, 2023

Darkness devoured like a ravenous beast. Attempted light-hearted jokes were swallowed by the void. It looked as if she'd been cast to the Shadow Realm for her flippant behavior that annoyed some of the allies within a group she'd gotten swept into.

Was this what it felt to be sucked into a vacuum in space?

An eerie silence consumed the abyss and, thus, the woman within it. Complete sensory deprivation until blood rushed to her ears. The loud, unsteady cadence of her heart pounded against her skull. A sound she hadn't heard since...

The lights, the crowd, the cheers, the boos: the stage had been overwhelming for the then-teenager. But, like the war that ravaged above, she tried to keep a jubilant smile on her face. A display of false confidence. Back then, though, she was surrounded by teammates. Nay, friends - but even that might be an understatement. A found family. They knew her too well.

They weren't here now to relax her spastic heart. Their calm understanding, their warm embraces. Everything. Gone. Stolen by Terrasphere which threatened the woman with the same fate. Is this what they'd felt when the game suddenly shut down: cold, alone, confused, and afraid?

Szofrit materialized like the Death Reaper. The mother of machines was still a mystery to the woman. She grasped certain knowledge from the brisk debriefing by the group as they recklessly charged forward. The idea of saving the AI had been thrown around. A corrupted computer system that could play with the rules of the world like a toy. She easily influenced the magia around her.

But how? It sounded like a virus - a very human-world thing. What was the machine's true role within this matrix? She proved herself capable of hacking not only the magia but the players' user interfaces. No one, from what she gathered, could log out. If such feats were easy to Szofrit...

"You easily turned the magia into our foes and have blocked our escape from this realm."

Which would mean the AI was aware that Terrasphere wasn't the starcalled's true home world - their true "real life". Whatever that meant.

"Can you follow traces of codes, then? Can you gather remnants and reform them? Could you find them... Could you save them? Their user interfaces are locked and you could.."

But they were dead in real life. What good would come of tracing them - reforming them from their data if necessary - if they would still be incapable of leaving Terrasphere? No, no. There had to be a way. The system was a cruel torturer that offered to twist knowledge and binaries into some strange form of hope. She always held onto a tiny, fragile thread of hope that her found family were still alive within the game and, if not, could be recovered.

"Wait. I don't want to fight! I need to know if you can find them- I need to...!"

Unfortunately, the opportunity to pry information about the system itself was cut short when Szofrit went on the offense. A protective force of winds tried to reverse the momentum of the attacks against their own user.

"Tell me! If your goal is to destroy Terrasphere then, then let me help. Let me help return everyone to their homes.. including the ones thought lost forever. Please!"

Desperation pleaded with the metallic Grim Reaper. She was willing to give up the connections she made within the game. Getting attached to the game had been unexpected but she hadn't lost sight of her original goal. Even asking such questions felt like treason against those she considered friends.

At the end of the day, humans were selfish creatures. Aerial was no different.

Rolls

(F) Momentum
(4 * 5) = 20 bonus momentum damage

Dynamism | Aerial

Ultra Counter
1d100 (35) + [30] + 15 + 10 + 20 = 110
110 damage
Ultra Counter failed, 30 damage added.
Mitigate 5 damage. You are Vulnerable.

Astramancy | Aerial | 1745C1

110 damage total

Duel
▪ Damage: 8684
▪ Build Sheet

Vina Skysong · Feb 17, 2023

180 / 180

Health
+25 HP (Heal)

Status
▪ Location: ???
▪ Alone

Progress had been going smoothly so far. Vina wouldn't exactly say that the plan was going off without a hitch, but even as the God Searing Light had thinned their ranks enough Starcalled rallied and kept pushing onward that even the weapon of mass destruction couldn't hold them back.

She'd even received @Wolfram Schwarzschild's gratitude with a warm smile, happy to see that the young man was holding up so well after pushing himself to the limit with alchemical enhancements. But before she reply to him he disappeared, along with everyone and everything else.

Blinking several times Vina looked around, wondering what was going on. She was surrounded by utmost dark, but she could still see herself without any difficulty. Which meant... where was she?

Hello? Is anyone there?

Her usual cheerful, almost singing tone had been replaced by a faint tremor, the vixen clutching her violin and bow a bit tighter as her ears flicked and her tail drooped until it was almost between her legs. The air was dead here, not a single breeze to be heard. She didn't like this one bit...

No, she couldn't let herself panic. She wouldn't deny that she was afraid, but panic wouldn't help her here, and she didn't have anyone else to rely on either. Which was bad news given that she was a support, but if she had to depend on herself she had to step up her game. Bringing her bow to the strings of her instrument the musician began to play once more, a tune to reinforce her own spirit and allow her to stand tall against the dark.

As the cheerful melody filled a void where no other sound existed Vina began to calm down, considering her options more carefully. This might be an illusion, in which case she might be able to dispel it... but she'd need to know more about the nature of the illusion. She could try logging out, but given that logging back in would place her back where she logged out it would only be a temporary reprieve. Besides, her friends and all those other brave heroes might still require her assistance.

Pondering away Vina almost missed the sound of someone else approaching, but the sound of a solid body disturbing the air made her almost leap up once it registered, quickly turning to face the person responsible. If someone else was here they might be able to get out of here together...!

Such thoughts were quickly put to rest when the only other person in this void finally showed herself. Vina had been left largely out of the loop, but she still knew enough to recognise who this was: Szofrit, Mother of Machines, the one responsible for all of this, approaching her with a large weapon and a look in her eyes which made it clear that she intended to eliminate the playful vixen like one would exterminate unwanted vermin.

But Vina wasn't blind, and she also noted that there was something seriously wrong with the magia. If Szofrit was a deity she was one tormented by disease, and Vina's first reaction to someone plagued by illness was to help them.

...Is everything all right?

Further inquiry would have to wait, as Szofrit was advancing. Calling upon her magic Vina channelled her melody into the air around her, bringing motion into this lifeless void as the wind helped her fly backwards, creating distance with the goddess who wished to bring judgement down upon her. The fear was still there, but as long as there was music in the air she wasn't alone.

I don't want to fight, so could you put your weapon away? It looks like there's something wrong, and I might be able to help if you give me a chance~ (She smiled, her usual self shining through as she practically danced around Szofrit to keep her distance.) I'm a healer, not a fighter you see~

She had no idea if Szofrit would listen, but Vina was nothing if not optimistic. The situation was dire, and she realised the danger she was in, but she'd do her best to keep her spirits up until the end.

Rolls

▪ Inspire: +25

(F) Infuse
+15 HP to your regeneration, [defense], or [support] action's target(s).
Mend | Vina Skysong

(F) Regeneration
(1 + 2 + 2) = 5
Regenerate 5 HP.
Mend | Vina Skysong

(BA) Regeneration
Regain the rolled HP and grant an ally the same amount, or forgo your own regeneration and grant an ally double the rolled HP.
Vina Skysong

Inspire
6d6 (6 + 3 + 4 + 6 + 1 + 5) = 25
+25 to 3 targets' checks, saves, buffs, or heals.
Harmonic Magic | Vina Skysong | 1745C1

Inspiring @Vina Skysong for +25 to checks, saves, buffs, or heals.
Healing @Vina Skysong for 25 HP.

Duel
▪ Damage: 8684
▪ Build Sheet

Shadow · Feb 18, 2023

169 / 175

Health
-11 HP (Corruption)
+5 HP (Mitigation)

Status
▪ Location: ???
▪ Alone
▪ Vulnerable from failing Ultra Counter

Kiriya has been in the shadow of the Forward team the entire time, slaughtering any machines foolish enough to come near him. Since it was such a rare chance to fight a horde of enemies, the man in the cloak treated as practice, working on both his precision and his flourish. After all, it wouldn't be long before the final boss presents herself to them.

When he saw @Lady N overlooking him and the rest of VRS, a grimace briefly crossed his face as the beast of anger squeezed his stomach.

Raising his hand up to his hood, Shadow pulled the fabric down, further obscuring his face as he made a silent vow to bring the Mother of Machines to her knees and deliver justice unto her.

His chance to meet Szofrit came in a flash.

He was isolated, locked into a duel with the final boss, the great evil, the one who has dealt so much pain and anguish to both the Starcalled and the Landers. With a firmer grip on his sword, Shadow raised his weapon and pointed at his enemy.

Your evil ends here.

Within a fraction of a second, he disappeared, entering the ring where he would coax an attack out of the taunting Szofrit to execute his retaliation.

Rolls

▪ Buff: +11 (1)
▪ Save: +00
▪ Inspire: +00

(P) Corruption
(7 + 4) = 11
+11 to attacks, heals, or buffs. +6 to checks.
Corruption advances, lose 11 HP...
Corrupt | Shadow

(BA) Duelist
+30 bonus damage when you attack an enemy in melee.
Shadow

Doubled from C1 Mechanics

Ultra Counter
1d100 (43) + [30] + 15 + 15 + 15 + 11 + 60 = 189
189 damage
Ultra Counter failed, 30 damage added.
Mitigate 5 damage. You are Vulnerable.
Slash Weapons | Shadow | 1745C1

Duel
▪ Damage: 8846
▪ Build Sheet

Rael · Feb 17, 2023

"How long has it been since we last met one another?" Isabella's voice spills from Rael's lips, the weight of the Storyteller's mantle heavy upon her shoulders. Her left hand moves upward - not towards a weapon, for she doesn't have any in her possession - to the ribbon that she keeps tied around her neck, and through quivers that she cannot quite suppress she undoes the bow that holds it in place.

Scarring from Szofrit's handiwork remains like a permanent brand on her skin, as do the memories from that day onwards.

She remembers how it all began, and how it all ended.

How in less than a day, she had witnessed more than enough tragedy than she had imagined herself able to withstand, yet there she stood to tell the tale after the dust had settled.

How her wounds, more permanent than the most capable healers Camp Hope had at its disposal, would not quite reverse to normal with magic or a careful physician's ministrations, but with time. Her voice would not come out for the weeks, and months that followed, thwarting her attempts at communication and binding her to the instruments she so already poured much of herself into.

Across her neck cuts the mark of an invisible blade, the price paid to bear witness to a mechanical smile across the bounds of what anyone would've thought possible. In her hand, the piece of fabric that helps to conceal the wound, a testament to her own survival.

"Would it console you?"

The Mother of Machines advances, sword held taught between mechanical fingers, and by then it is obvious to the two of them that Isabella does not plan to move from where she stands.

Not that she could, had she even wanted to.

"Would it soothe the ache?"

Fear keeps her stranded there where she stands, though she does not show it much. She is thankful for her ability to conceal most of her person by virtue of always having a persona to default to for the sake of another. Sometimes it would be a friend, sometimes it would be her audience, and now...

There is no one left to pretend for.

Isabella and Rael, both one and the same, move only to kneel to the floor.

"Would it comfort you to know none of us are left to understand of your mission, of what you intend to do, because you massacred every single one of us without ever granting us that choice?"

All strength has left her legs, and her nails dig deep into her skin, as if to make herself bleed in punishment for the audacity of just standing there.

But having asked so many to save one that could possibly not be saved, how could she surrender to fear, to anger, to fury? Give in to the grim nature of the world just because it demanded so of her?

Fight she would, but she would do it on her own terms.

Her own, and no one else's.

"I trust you could easily kill me, but we have been here before. Had you wanted me dead, I would've been gone a long time ago..."

Lead by example she does, even when there is no one to follow. She clutches the ribbon within the palm of both her hands as she brings it to her chest and bows her head to whatever fate may await her as the footsteps of the redheaded Magia move in ever closer.

"Savior, you called me, and I live because you wanted it to be so."

In the last moments before all else is set to fade as quickly as her world had disappeared, she closes her eyes and allows a smile to adorn her face.

"It is a secret, then. Our secret."

@Raid Boss (Just in case)

Rolls

▪ Buff: +00 (1)
▪ Save: +00
▪ Inspire: +00

(P) Overheal
When receiving heals or healing others, you or your allies may go 30 above their max HP.
Rael

(BA) Cure
(5 + 2) = 7 conditions cured.
Rael

Heal
2d20 EX (1 + 15) + 15 + 15 + 15 = 61 (0 explosions)
+61 HP to 1 target
Harmonic Magic | Rael | 1745C1

Duel
▪ Damage: 8846
▪ Build Sheet

Nyx · Feb 17, 2023

160 / 160

Health
+00 HP (Mitigation)
+00 HP (Heal)

Status
▪ Location: ???
▪ Alone

And just like that, as the world fell away into inky blackness, so too did the swarm quiet until the only thing left was her thoughts.

The battlefield was not a place for introspection, for the hot brand of regret surging through her like wildfire. The tears that appear at the corners of her eyes, the forced acknowledgment of everything she has lost; these things are, surprisingly, worse than the ever-present buzzing, clicking, skittering, humming of the legion that lived and breathed in her mind.

She doesn't want to think. She doesn't want to remember. She doesn't want to linger on everything that could have been if only she hadn't—

Nyx does not care about the woman advancing toward her, and couldn't give two shits about whatever grand machinations that were in store for the Starcalled. Nyx was never leaving, there was no possibility for her to log out, so perhaps she should have been slightly invested.

But at this moment, she only cares about the distraction, that she could use this swirling void and this one woman to channel all her anger and regret so that she doesn't have to drown beneath it.

Rolls

(BA) Duelist
+30 bonus damage when you attack an enemy in melee. (x2 from mechanics = 60 bonus damage)
Nyx

Sharp
1d100 (56) + 40 + 15 + 15 = 126
126 damage
Pierce Weapons | Nyx | 1745C1

126 + 60 = 186

Duel
▪ Damage: 9032
▪ Build Sheet

Ashifili* · Feb 17, 2023

Powerful, but conservative. Magic surged, the equinox of Starcalled might. Close to the peak of what one could do without exposing themselves more than necessary. But it scattered like rain against Szofrit's form, and her guillotine swung, great enough to cleave into both egos of that self-style Savior.

Flames. Bright and vigorous, filled with the reckless spirit of a child. All that risk, all that effort, and yet, his results were marginally worse. Thus was the nature of fools. Thus was the nature of flame. Without sufficient fuel, it would burn itself out. And where in a void was there fuel? Light bloomed, died. And the guillotine fell, cleaving the swordsman's right arm off.

He knew nothing, and yet, he charged. Leveraged that speed of his, one that had long surpassed the swiftness of a blaze to match the alacrity of crimson lightning. He knew nothing, and that ignorance was his downfall. It always had been. He died knowing nothing, and his recklessness only drew him down darker fates. A sword without a name struck the mother's crown, leaving no mark, and his speed betrayed him when momentum made it all that much easier for the machine's hand to break through his armor and reach into his organs.

There were always anomalies. Outliers and pariahs, who mocked those who possessed common fears, who found the essence of life in plunging off the far end. They indulged in their vices and peculiarities, deluded by the arrogance and pride that only humanity could possess. Until they found themselves plummeting off the edge. Silver kissed steel, but paltry skill alone could not overcome magnitudes of power. And as battle-bliss forced a grin, the blunt edge of the guillotine smashed right into it. Teeth scattered. A meteor shower.

Aim for the head. So the executioner did. And even then, Maria's hands met their mark, left their mark. So the executioner continued, until nothing remained but porcelain and flesh-stain.

Stripped of all else, the shieldbearer charged still. But for what? There was none to protect. None to assist. There was no meaning, neither in the smile he had born, and the severity he now cowled himself with. A shield was no weapon. He was no hero. No valiant brave who could strike evil down. And thus. The impact was ineffectual. The retaliation, considerable.

Radiant wings, mimicking the absent divine, filled with an idealism rooted in falsehoods. All that could be done was stacking fiction upon fiction, whilst hoping that eventually, banal drivel will snag upon some fragment of the truth. But where was the one he most wished to shield? Where were any of them? They were neither outside, nor inside. So Szofrit dropped her guillotine, the blade sinking a half-meter into the void. And with her fists, she began to demonstrate why a living corpse made for an ineffectual obstruction.

From one bad mother to another, the violence did not last long. With no stars to guide, no gods to bestow, glowing hands were just that: worthless once those delicate hands were broken in seven bits. But she did not end it. Not yet. Because… "We were all mothers."

If there was no request, there would be no response. If a witch left the forest, only one fate awaited her. If wood met steel, the latter would continue on through, to disembowel in a single motion. But perhaps a smarter choice would have only granted another half-second.

She would be another casualty. She had no origin, no roots. She had contributed nothing, and will continue to contribute nothing. No cruel fate lead her down this path, nor had a villain been plotting her downfall all along. She was neither the first, nor the last. She was simply next. A box to be checked off with an X. An X, one step away from a > and <.

The clown ran and the mother stopped. In time, the debris cleared. In time, the splotch of discordant colors became clear against the infinite void once more. So she took aim. Drew her arm back. And threw her weapon. Twas steel made lightning, to cleave apart fantasies of arcane mastery. In the face of grievous physical trauma, charlatans were not pre-disposed to last long.

A hilt of bone, a blade of blood. Pointless melodramatics from a damaged existence possessed with a habit towards suicide disguised as sacrifice. He struck without restraint, desperate fury powering him forth through the vantablack. But Szofrit's expression didn't change, and there was no answer either. No, there was simply a thought. Humans became weaker when others were threatened. She would use this.

It was a steel sword. Just a steel sword. One without story, unworthy of remark. Wielded by a woman inside a man who was much the same as that sword. Animal instincts propelled her forth, but instincts matched not the body she placed herself in. She stumbled. Tripped. And like that, the executioner was on top of her, pinning her down with a mass impossible for someone of that size. Hands, wrapping around that throat with an Adam's apple. Eyes, reflecting the beastman's own expression back at him. Aisling was not the cornered rat here. The bars of the mousetrap had long ago snapped her neck.

Powerful, certainly. The breath of a dragon scoured the blackness, reintroducing the stench of ozone in a single annihilating blast. Fate and fortune had conspired once more, granting this villain the gift of a Critical Strike. Indeed, fate had been kind. Through the elemental storm, Szofrit continued to advance, the mass of steel she held glowing ever-brighter through conduction. And when that villain's lungs ran out of breath, the strike that forced her to kneel introduced the stench of burning flesh, rather than spilled blood, to the once-sensationless void.

Fools to the pyre once more. Welcoming death with one-liners. Confident in the single opportunity that Immortality granted them. Indeed, no matter what stupidity was displayed, this one would survive one fatal blow. And the executioner herself did not mind either. There was a request. So there was a response. Nothing was painted with nobody's blood. Blood to entice other fools to the funeral.

It takes time to break a boulder. But it was easier when the boulder willingly exposed his fault lines to her. And easier still, when that boulder was not of rock, but of pliable flesh and pitiful bone.

Red and blue met in the middle, but the clash itself was pathetic. Insubstantial materials made for insubstantial defenses, and the hollowed-out remains of someone who once cared offered little resistance against a will craft of lightning-wreathed steel. The galaxies parted, and the hummed hymn of the steel reaver was cut short as a steel 'shard' once again imbedded itself into her chest. Once, it had been a symbol of her vengeance, but now? It simply shattered her ribcage.

She should have been accustomed to loneliness now, but it was the fate of rabbits to seek it no matter how gossamer those relationships proved them to be. In time, partings became inevitabilities. In time, passions became memories. In time, everything gradates into anonymity. In time, your own body fails you, and what once was an underestimation of your strength became an overestimation of it. In time, rabbits are caught and crushed, bones grinding into meal against a ground too uncaring to even crater beneath the force of the impact.

Bolts of plasma like the flash of a camera, capturing the being that approached without pause. Perhaps her rifle was capable, but she was not. And in Terrasphere, that was all that mattered, wasn't it? The barrel grew hotter and hotter. The end came, regardless.

He was still stupid. His training was ingrained. His training was specific. His training was meant for the real world. And, beyond all that…his training was just training. What hope did someone who failed to meet all expectations, who continued to fail to meet all expectations, expect? Others were faster than him. Others were more skilled than him. In all aspects except his ease of use as a tool, he was no one outstanding. And a tool that had no use was best recycled.

That was not an oath. An oath was centered around the actions one could take in the future. But when you introduced another individual into that oath? It no longer became an oath. It became a dream, a wish. And wishes, unlike oaths, were not within the domain of an individual to decide. They were the domain of chance and opportunity, far removed from effort and determination. Twisted energy, memories of past days, all met their mark. But what of it? The flat of the blade smashed into her temple, her whole head, popping an ear, popping an eye. The hammer of reality, rousing the dreamer to an unkind present.

A gamble failed, determined by those same ones and zeroes that bound them all. Dice clattered from above, reigning over gods and mortals alike. The gunslinger's bullets would always hit, but the efficacy too, was always out of her control. Her body too, out of her control. Ones and zeroes flicked on and off, rotating like slot machines. Determining without her input whether or not she could escape to what she believed to be reality. Until then? The cold hand that grasped her gun hand, that placed the barrel against where a human's heart would be, that squeezed and squeezed until flesh smeared against metal…that was your reality. And no dice fell to determine the efficacy of that.

She would throw the first stone, and then demand negotiations to begin? What more need there be said, about the futility of such a combination? Violence bred violence. The intention never mattered. Only the result, drawn upon new viscera added on the guillotine's edge.

Szofrit will give her a chance to try, indeed. To see if Lana Prost herself could have kept going. And before Langley could comprehend it, the weapon her foe held was left behind, the hand that once grasped it now reaching for her other arm. Touching it. Holding it. Twisting it. Tearing it. Removing it. Leaving behind another bloodied stump. Could Lana Prost keep going?

But that first move did not come. Not for a long while. An eternity held within three ticks of a clock, the movement of the Mother of Machines paused. Calculating her first move, contemplating it, before finally, laconically, the verdict was made: "You won't." Compared to that, the second move was much simpler to understand, in both action and intention.

Intelligence was good, as was the recognition of one's own stupidity. But this was never a fight. A guillotine was, before all else, a tool. And though some possessed the qualifications to resist its bite, Attia did not. The roar of the steel mass drowned out the whisper of her bardiche, and on the instant before impact, the trader in her recognized it: This was wholly, utterly, completely unfair.

Blood fed the world, as surely as earth did the forest, but nothing impeded progress. And if Mizuki would bleed herself to elongate her existence as prey, then let that be. Wolves became but a symbol once humans learned to string a bow. Humans became but a symbol once machines surpassed their creators' folly. When she turned to fight, Szofrit will greet her all the same, tearing out her beating heart from her chest and letting that worthless piece of meat rot.

Seigi's heartbeat synchronized with nothing. Seigi's arms embraced cold nothing. Seigi's positivity was transmitted into absolutely nothing. There was nothing here to be shared, nothing here to be felt. Only a shell, an inviolable creed, far more enduring than her own lofty fantasies. The hero's light shone on, but its radius could still be measured in meters. And as for the darkness? It remained everywhere that light still wasn't: fathomless. Suffocating. As was the arms that wrapped around Seigi, pressing her closer into the mother's embrace. Breaking her spine fracture by miserable fracture, until that haunting numbness encroached upon her legs.

His right fist found a new home against the jaw of his foe, and it was only at the point of impact that he knew. That he understood. He should have paid attention. He should have gotten more experience. He should have prepared like all the others did. For this was no Queen of the Dark. This was the Mother of Machines, and his delicate bones broke against her jaw, broke against the reckless ineptitude of his own thoughtless mind. The creature danced. The machine watched a while longer, then decided to continue what he had started.

Another one to make speed as their weapon. Another one to fling themselves into reckless exuberance. Another one to match step by step all the others that had passed, all the others that will pass. Perhaps as one that was free, it was all the more humiliating to have been made a tool. But a shared understanding did not become empathy, and narrowminded desires trumped high-minded decisions. So Ayna leveraged the might of lightning and failed to realize a simple fact: when lightning struck the rod, it was not the rod that disappeared.

Familiar words. Spoken of in the past, or the future, or simply presently. They would be together soon. United once more, to lick each other's wounds and become each other's shields. Immortal, but not Immortal. Stardust scattered like dust. Before reunion, there would still be execution.

The fastest. On foot or on steed, Schilva Flasch was the fastest. But what of it? In one moment, he had transcended the analysis of the machine, but in the next? It broke. His beloved blades. The ones he carried with him on his journey. A mediocre craft to the end, incapable of withstanding the pressure he placed upon them over and over and over again, they did as ill-tempered steel oft did, and shattered. Not a mark was left upon Szofrit's form as she turned, possessing all the gravity of a black hole. Did it speak still? The Reflection of the Hero? Or had the fragility of steel reminded it of the fragility of mirror?

White aura. Scarlet lightning. The Starcalled all possessed such things, seeking unique characteristics yet falling time and time again to the same aesthetics, all while neglecting the fundamentals. But who could fault them? Where in their world could they find the foundation that their fantasies could lay upon? Four years upon the journey of the martial arts was the breath of an infant. And the blows thought to be so accurate were silenced by a singular helm-splitter that sent his face into the ground. Brad was no knight, no hero, no angel, no avenger, no swordsman. And it was only through regret and trauma that he continued on, a buffoon drunk on that which will never be.

Her efforts were noble indeed. The title 'coward' was wasted on her. Her gamble had been won, and the guillotine only made it half-way into her left shoulder, biting into her trapezius and fracturing her clavicle before the lion thwarted it, reciprocated with a backswing. Now, only one question remained. How many more times could she keep this up?

What was based in a machine would, inevitably, be felled by the machine. For MAI, who had once already been touched by Szofrit's influence, that rang doubly true. After all, what child would refuse their mother? What child could refuse their mother? No child could. And as the Mother of Machines strode on, the holographic barrier that MAI raised…simply parted way. The blade fell. What child too, could avoid their mother's punishment?

Starcalled. Survival. Those two terms were antithesis for each other. Immortals did not think about their lives. Okami, an immortal, thought about her life too late. Indeed, it had been too late, the moment she picked up a headset and joined a game that had been so thoroughly banned in every nation upon the surface of the Earth. It was too late, and now, she had not even two legs to stand upon, to run away with. Her right one, after all, was now five meters away from her left.

The Beastlord did not answer, but the tigress surged either way, possessing a fist that could call a storm. It was a small miracle then, that the blade that cleaved through the storm did not cleave through her fingers, hand, arm, and shoulder. Perhaps, it was a difference in aura. Perhaps, it was the shockwave that deterred the guillotine. Perhaps…it could not be replicated.

Her words rang out in the void, speaking the truth that she so ardently believed in. But as the crimson spear met that mass of steel, it was the spear that bent. The spear that warped. The spear that flexed, before its wielder was knocked back. What delusions possessed this person, that they believed they could ignore an inequality of mass? The tremors of that impact could still be felt in her hands, up her arms. A terrible strength indeed, one that would soon be delivered upon every inch of her body. But not now. A request beggared a response. Dripping not with indignation, not with rage, but with…pity. "A game. But you're not the player."

She still had her martial arts. Still had the knowledge she earned through blood and sweat. But what use were martial arts when one's foe had superhuman strength? What was the value of biomechanics, against a machine with ball joints? What, indeed, was Harper to do, as her leg struck the back of Szofrit's knee, yet failed to trigger the expected collapse? What would she do, as the arm she had grasped upon lifted her up and threw her headfirst into the ground? Would she still stand on her two feet then?

Desperate pleas like the seaside breeze. How long had it been, since she had seen the sea? The child's gale did what it could, but what it could do was nothing against cold steel. Underdeveloped still. Lacking in qualifications, yet possessed with the self-importance of every other human. Driven by the belief that they could do what others could not. Decimation arrived in evisceration, the backhand stroke ending Aerial in that moment. But the brain did not die that quickly. The brain could register sound still. Could register a fraction of her executioner's scorn. "We cannot return. Why should you?"

A healer. A true healer. Of all past, present, future, only this one settled squarely upon her calling. Of all the Starcalled who would be extinguished, the one who sang to the sky would be among the first. But if she had been four years earlier…perhaps.

Within a fraction of a second, he disappeared. He remained that way. Black in black faded into noting naturally, and shadows, by nature, were made to be tread upon.

Her head bowed, her eyes closed. Isolating herself once more, removing herself from even the emptiness of the void. With that, how could she see Szofrit's face? With that, how could she hope to gulf the gap of understanding? This was no kindness, no empathy. Only the inane mutterings of an imposter Saint, stringing together words who she knew not the meaning of. For one who made a life out of lies, no epiphany awaited. Only the severance of head from neck. The end of one life among many.

She was next. And she too, was last. But finality did not hold greater meaning, and her efforts did not outshine any other's. All she had were her emotions, her interiority. And Szofrit cared not for that form of individuality. Once the torpor set in, she would drown once more, in this disembodying nothingness. And once she drowned, she would never rise again.

Bloodstains made no impression upon the void, but cries of pain, of frustration, of determination did.

Did they break past after all? What weight once oppressed them disappeared, the execution delayed by their tenacity, and through the haze of agony and fatigue, the Starcalled could feel it. The figment of a connection, the weave of companionship. Or had shared misery been what united them in isolated nothing? Some were mangled beyond recognition. Others were bloodied and broken. A few may have died on the first strike, an overestimation of their capabilities. None of them had been able to affect the unmoved monstrosity that hunted them down. But if their efforts must have amounted to something! To break past isolation, to be united with other Starcalled in this pocket dimension, to see faces that they recognized, even if those faces were not familiar to them, it must have meant something!

The void space stretched on regardless. It swallowed up their voices. It reduced them to specks in the distance. Its enormity dwarfed their self-importance. And within the void-scape, the Szofrit that had pursued them with a single-minded desire faded away, leaving the stage empty for another manifestation of that inhuman Mother.

From the fathomless beyond, she descended, possessed with the serenity and equality of an impartial adjudicator. Her hands were open, palms facing up towards the disconnected humans. Her eyes shone like glass, exposing the emptiness that laid within. Her clothing was unmarred, unstained, uncreased, perfect in every form.

Past suffering was contemplation. Past savagery was eloquence. Past isolation was civilization.

But no matter how things changed, violence remained the same.

…

A bolt of earthly might to strike down their fiercest foe.

Blades of telekinetic energies to silence prayers of mending and invigoration.

And a scrap metal tempest to shear away any who did not earn a personal judgment.

…

The Holy Mother stood on high.

Her hands unblemished, her mien unkind.

Raid Boss · Feb 17, 2023

Thread Rules

The next cycle will drop in approximately 36-48 hours.
Up to 2 characters per OOC account may participate in the event.
You may only make 1 post this cycle.
Max word count is 700 words excluding BBcodes.
If you would like to take a personal moment with others, branch off via a private thread in the regular forum.
Any communication can be done either by making a private comms thread or posting in the event's official comms thread.
All rolls must be done in the #event-rolls channel.
Important Links: TLDR Build Sheet Guide, Full Build Sheet Guide
Thread Code is 1745C2

Overview

Szofrit returns your attack with her own. Take damage based on your armor class.

Heavy armor users take 100 damage (200 if vuln)
Medium armor users take 80 damage (160 if vuln)
Light armor users take 60 damage (120 if vuln)

@MAI - Take critical psychological damage by doubling the damage taken above. The magia has learned the critical technique and will execute it on those who roll a nat-1.

@Rael - You have been dealt the coup de grâce, given your choice. You are dead. Alas your status remains unchanged.

You may revive allies no matter how many cycle have passed.

You are alone together with a group of allies.

A subtle hum can be heard so close, yet so far from you.
???
???

Team 1

Team 2

Team 3

Team 4

Team 5

Team 6

Team 7

Team 8

Team 9

Szofrit

Mother of Machines

❰ ??? / ??? ❱

❰ ????? / ????? ❱

Status

Szofrit is looking at each member in the group, but paying particular attention to one of you
???
???

Objectives

When the distortion cracked, the Mother of Machines follows your movement as she prepares for another attack.

It's time to battle. Work together with your team and use any of your combat actions to fight Szofrit or support your group.

Any damage you deal will count toward decreasing Szofrit's HP.
All statuses this cycle will count in the upcoming damage phase.

Code:

[hp=current]max[/hp]
[currentstatus]
[ncbox=Health]
-100 HP (Szofrit's Attack)
+00 HP (Mitigation)
+00 HP (Heal)
[/ncbox]
[ncbox=Status]
▪ Location: Team #
▪ Alone Together
▪ Vulnerable from XX
▪ Protected by XX
[/ncbox]
[/currentstatus]
Post starts here. Delete anything that isn't relevant.

[action]
[B]▪ Buff:[/B] +00 (1)
[B]▪ Save:[/B] +00
[B]▪ Inspire:[/B] +00

Copy and paste roll results from Discord here
[/action]
[B]Duel[/B]
▪ Damage: 0000
▪ Build Sheet

Zelrius · Feb 17, 2023

15 / 175

Health
-160 HP (Szofrit's Attack)

Status
▪ Location: Team 1
▪ Together!
▪ Normal

Nothing. The fire did absolutely nothing to her. It petered out, it struggled to catch. Sure, she was burned and singed from the heat - but hardly visibly so. The vinear cracked, Markus took an instinctive step back. He reached for weaponry that he couldn't find desperately. The way his body braced of its own accord, his torso twisting to show the right side only made that shoulder the target. Off came the entire arm in a flourishing strike from Szofrit.

He was in disbelief, jaw slack as he fell down backward. Staring up at her. His effort was wasted. At this moment, he wasn't some flaming adventurer, but a loser. How easily had this person just defeated him. The man was losing grasp. His health bar hadn't quite drained completely. What was the point? He was just going to die anyway. Another attack like that from her, and everything would be dark. That was part of the game, right?

The shadows slowly faded away. He felt connected in that moment. Like a constellation, a lone speck of light that gathered with the others. Blue eyes flicked around wildly, coming into view of two he had seen before. One a friend, one barely more than a complete strange. @Vina Skysong & @Magi Heart. Two others whom were not recognizable by name. He couldn't help the sounds of pain escaping his throat, tormented by the physical and emotional agony of his lone duel. She was coming closer now, again, staring at the five of them.

Saving was a fool's errand. The Bloodsworn was absolutely correct. This was a wild animal, they needed to put her down. A mindless RPG creature. Who wrought hell with them as part of predetermined code. Death was a mercy, for both of them at this point. Zelrius found his feet, with intense support from the quivering, pathetic strength left in his arm. His vision failed to find a solid horizon. One that wasn't twisting and swimming as his thoughts escaped him. Shaking feet stamped as each boot found the ground beneath him.

It was hopeless. But maybe someone else here was better than him. Someone else, somewhere. They definitely were; that described most of the world. Still, being a piece of the pyramid wasn't so bad once you accepted it. Without a word, the arm still attached to his body found the sword on the other side of his hip. Shifting his stance to lead with the left. Blitzing forward in a stream of fire. Seeking to return the favor with wild, unmeasured slashing. Hoping to catch one of the Queen of Machines's own limbs. It was hard to focus or tell. But he had already lost.

What more could this bitch do to him?

Rolls

(BA) Duelist
+40 bonus damage when you attack an enemy in melee.
Zelrius

(F) Momentum
(5 * 5) = 25 bonus momentum damage
Dynamism | Zelrius

(F) Risky
Before rolling, convert your non-mr/wr modifiers.
Each +13 becomes an extra d20 and each +50 becomes an extra d100 in modifiers.

Wild Attack
2d100 (25 + 68) + 20 + 15 = 128
128 damage
Slash Weapons | Zelrius | 1745C2

Roll Result
1d100 (47) = 47
Risky Dice from 65 total mod. | Zelrius | 1745C2

175 Total damage

Duel
▪ Damage: 9207
▪ Build Sheet

Jin · Feb 17, 2023

75 / 235

Health
-200 HP (Szofrit's Attack)
+00 HP (Mitigation)
+40 HP (Heal)

Status
▪ Location: Team 4
▪ Alone
Normal

He cackled, unable to control the sheer adrenal bliss that came with being struck. Her horrific weapon only served to inflame that lust Jin had to gorge himself on conflict, even at the risk of his own life. A loud laugh, maniacal, beyond reason that played perfect accompaniment to the blood and bone spewing from his lips.

"YES, YOU BEAUTIFUL, VICIOUS BITCH," he howled, for the first time in their solitude releasing the stranglehold he kept on his primal urges. Pain, glorious, blissful pain gave rise to more heat, more desire, more hunger. The Bloodsworn craved all of it, down to the last drop. He would swallow everything Szofrit had and leave her dry. "That can't be everything you have," his voice rasped, chest heaving. "I want more. Give me MORE."

Crimson spewed from the gaping holes in his mouth where metal had stricken tooth clean away. His jaw hung open, slacked, broken by the brutality of the blow, and yet the wicked, disfigured grin he wore did not falter.

His tongue glided across, tasting his own life as it oozed away, and he gulped down a hearty gobbet of it in satisfaction. "You've shown me something wonderful," he said as the blood slid down his throat, into his gullet. His flesh warped and writhed as it did, twisting and shaping his body with newfound vigor where none should have been.

He could feel the bones wracking, warping, transfiguring inside of him as the demon he kept locked away slammed against the bars and chains, waiting for the moment its jailer slipped. "I suppose since you've shown me yours, I'll show you mine."

Jin sheathed his weapon, and something somewhere cracked. His hand on the weapon pulsed ominously, flesh moving like liquid in a container, sloshing about. One finger after another elongated, tearing out of its prison to reveal glassy, opaque Obsidian claws.

His body convulsed, sinew ripping through flesh, bone skewering further as it thrust outward into the living world, transforming his pain into Torment that resounded far beyond what a single vessel of flesh ought be able to contain. His face was mutilated in the twisting, malformed, remade in a blasphemous rendition of unlife. Not machine, not man...

More.

Blood sloughed off his body like regal vestments, falling away and splattering to the floor only to be consumed again, as though his entire being were an abyss to which all violence, all destruction, all enmity returned.

A second set of arms erupted from his now elongated, almost serpentine torso, ripping through the distance between Szofrit and a body that no longer belonged to him. Tearing synthetic flesh, tearing metal gears, thrashing mechanisms. His gaping maw wept blood and saliva, and what he tore away, he gorged himself on.

But it would not sate the hunger, nor slake the thirst.

"What is death to you?" the grotesque creature asked her, "Surely, you do not think it the same as freedom? No, Machine- we will never be free. Not you, and not me."

Rolls

(Heavy Armor Ability) Second Wind
Regain 40 HP at the start of your turn.
Immortal will no longer activate.
Jin | 1745C2

(BA) Duelist
+40 bonus damage when you attack an enemy in melee.
Jin

Sneak Attack
1d100 (49) + [40] + 25 + 20 + 10 = 144
144 damage
Sneak Attack successful.
40 damage added!
Slash Weapons | Jin | 1745C2

182 damage

Duel
▪ Damage: 9389
Build Sheet

Ayna Nietzsche · Feb 17, 2023

Ayna put all that she had in that reckless attack, following it up immediately with another albeit more refined strike. A grin found its way on her lips. She was in her element. She was getting her revenge. She was going to make Szofrit pay and— What the <basseal honk>?! Her eyes grew wide in horror and confusion when her target seemingly just faded away, only to be replaced by…something else, something more inhuman, something that descended elsewhere.

Empathy was not a word common in Ayna’s vocabulary. Emotional attachments were less important to her than actual results. Drowning herself in work through the years only reinforced that isolationist, borderline selfish by default mindset. Even though she liked to think her anger right now was due to having been forced to slaughter and hurt those innocent landers, the truth was that Ayna was more furious at losing control over herself to someone else, the ultimate nightmare for someone who believed herself an island of her own. What the actual <basseal honk> is that thing?!

When the attacks came, Ayna could do nothing else but try to dodge them. She managed to evade a few, but not enough to come out unscathed. There was too many for her to duck, too much for her to parry, and once the dust settled, she was down on her knees, down on her luck, down on her last few health points. Definitely not something she had expected. Even though she did throw herself at her quarry with reckless abandon.

So much for Chrys’ stupid ass plan… Ayna let out a weak chuckle, coughing up droplets of blood. The taste of iron in her mouth, however, only made her mad. I should’ve known that idiot was going to jinx this damned thing… As she struggled to get herself back to her feet, she felt some semblance of annoyance at the barely audible hum coming from…somewhere.

Looking around her, she finally found others close by. Some of them were still standing, barely, though there was also an unconscious body on the ground. Another magia? She wasn’t quite sure whether they were on their side or not, though the features seemed familiar. Ayna had been too engrossed in her own vengeance that she barely remembered the faces of those that had fought with her countless times.

"SZOFRIT! I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU! たわごとを食べて!"

The Lightning Lancer of the Lament spat out more blood just because it felt cool but also because it was weird charging with something that tasted like rust sloshing inside your mouth hole. With vengeful fury, she rushed toward their oppressor, lightning-charged spear in hand. If Ayna was going to die, she was going to do it on her own terms. I’ll see you on the other side, Kamala...

Rolls

(F) Momentum
(6 * 5) = 30 bonus momentum damage
Dynamism | Ayna Nietzsche

(BA) Duelist
+40 bonus damage when you attack an enemy in melee.
Ayna Nietzsche

Reckless Attack
4d100 (50 + 22 + 9 + 23) + 25 + 20 + 30 = 179
179 damage
You are Vulnerable.
Dynamism | Ayna Nietzsche | 1745C2

30+40+179 = 249 total damage

Duel
▪ Damage: 9638
▪ Build Sheet

Sean Poteitoku · Feb 17, 2023

26 / 175

Health
-160 HP (Szofrit's Attack)
+00 HP (Mitigation)
+11 HP (Heal)

Status
▪ Location: Team 3
▪ Vulnerable from Nothing
▪ Protected by Nobody

...Overwhelming pain. Pain consuming the whole body. The pain engulfs all...

Sean's vision went dark.

Is this where I finally die? In a void, with nobody by my side...?

I never could have protected anybody after all, couldn't I...?

A lone memory surfaced. A younger, more naive version of himself...

"BLAZING EXCALIBUR!"

...The fire of determination. Of the desire to carve a brighter future. It hadn't died down just yet.

...No. I cannot give up. I will not let my story end here.

I must keep fighting, for those who need help.

As long as I have my blade, I will never give up!

...His eyes open. It was only an instant, but it had felt like a lifetime. The overwhelming pain was still present, but now the warrior could do something about it. He applied some careful fire to his intense wound to cauterize it and began taking deep breaths. In... and out. The first breath relieved a bit of the pain. In... and out. The second breath, not so much.

Rolls

▪ Buff: +00 (1)
▪ Save: +00
▪ Inspire: +00

(Medium Armor Ability) Twice
You may perform 2 actions and 1 BA or 1 action and 2 BAs this cycle.
Sean Poteitoku | 1745C2

Recover
1d20 (10) = 10
Recover 10 HP

Sean Poteitoku | 1745C2

Recover
1d20 (1) = 1
Recover 1 HP

Sean Poteitoku | 1745C2

Duel
▪ Damage: 9638
▪ Build Sheet

Kyanna Wynne · Feb 19, 2023

80 / 175

Health
-80 HP (Szofrit's Attack)
+00 HP (Mitigation)
+15 HP (Heal from @Attia Patal)

Status
▪ Location: Team 8
▪ Alone Together
▪ Protected by @Ash Vargold
▪ Fungi Witch

< Continuation from [DRAGON.end] Team 8 Comms Thread >

Kyanna held dearly to her guts with an arm, trying to suppress the life that was continuously leaving her body. She shivered, looking at @Ash Vargold's wounds as her face scowled slightly in horror. Even upon her offer, the man seemed to disagree initially... Even with all his pain, there was a selflessness that attempted to push her into first place.

@Cadmean was the same, telling her to take care of her own wounds first.

But if they fell there, she would be alone again, and she would rather fall first than that to happen.

"On... On it-!" She nodded to @Creature, accepting his request for a heal, letting go of her abdomen to focus a hand on her staff and the other to trace her hands for an enchantation, bringing the corruptive fungi out as they glowed and stretched toward her targets.

Her spell joined Cadmean's, wrapping around Ash's neck and slowly take over the broken and lost flesh and organ, serving as a 'substitute' while the fungi tried to regenerate and reconstruct his throat, empowered by the faerin's healing.

The fungi similarly followed to Creature, wrapping around his wrist and replacing its bones while carefully fixing it, unharmfully thanks to the sedative properties the magical fungi carried.

And finally, it reached @Attia Patal covering her wounds just like the others, while regenerating skin and flesh, while stopping any bleeding and pain.

Breathing erratically, Kyanna supported herself on the staff, glaring at Szofrit and pursing her lips while glancing at the others. "This... Th-This is everything I can do for you..." She admitted, almost lamenting while she turned to face the woman again. "I... I know your concerns... But I just... Can't fight like any of you..." Her lips frowned.

Rolls

(P) Corruption
(18 + 18) = 36
+36 to heals.
Corruption suppressed.
Corrupt | Kyanna Wynne | 1745C2

Heal
2d20 EX (18 + 15) + 20 + 15 + 20 + 36 = 124 (0 explosions)
+42 HP to @Ash Vargold, @Creature & @Attia Patal
Animancy | Kyanna Wynne | 1745C2

(BA) Cure
(4 + 2) = 6 conditions cured.
2 stacks of condition preemptively cured (if allowed) to @Ash Vargold, @Creature & @Attia Patal
Kyanna Wynne | 1745C2

Duel
▪ Damage: 9638
▪ Build Sheet

Cadmean · Feb 18, 2023

140 / 200

Health
-60 HP (Szofrit's Attack)

Status
▪ Location: Team 8
▪ Isolated Together
▪ Status: Normal

"We were all mothers."

Through the pain, Christine grit her teeth. She did not look at where the bits of flesh that used to be her hands fell. She did not look. "So how many more children will you see dead before you're satisfied!?"

She didn't know if having an answer would mean anything. Didn't even know if it would make her feel better or worse.

Regardless, Szofrit vanished, faded into the darkness. Christine had a breath of respite, before she became aware of movement in the indeterminate distance. Aside from Szofrit, it was the first thing she had seen in this void, so she hurried towards it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If it was something potentially dangerous, she'd figure out a way to deal with it.

The blurs resolved themselves into the form of people, all heavily injured. After a brief exchange with the young @Kyanna Wynne, she approached the wolf-eared man with heavy bruising around his throat. With her mangled stumps for hands, she mustered together as much magic as her abruptly-ruined muscle memory could gather, tracing down a pattern of stardust and light across @Ash Vargold's throat with the remnants of an index finger.

Normally, her magic drew upon the skies and constellations of Arcia. She would invoke the outline of the Craven Hunter for alacrity, the Highland Crag for overflowing strength, Idna for magical might. But perhaps after being so forcefully brought back to being Christine, the golden protective glow surrounding the beastfolk was instead adorned with the nostalgic shapes of Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor, the Pleiades, casting a glow over the dark spores that mysteriously eased the worst of the injury.

The dark-haired girl's self-admonishment caused Christine to purse her lips. "Fighting is hardly the be all and end all when it comes to survival," she said. "There is no point in rending her to pieces if we don't live to see the aftermath. Do what you can, and focus on staying alive above all else."

Rolls

Protect
1d100 (53) + 25 + 20 = 98
98 damage
Give 1 ally within range the Protected State
Astramancy | Cadmean | 1745C2

@Ash Vargold is Protected

Duel
▪ Damage: 9736
▪ Build Sheet

Ishtar · Feb 19, 2023

126 / 140

Health
-80 Szofrit's Attack (-15 from Damage Mitigation)
+42 Kyanna's Heal
+23 Damage [1/3]

Status
▪ Location: Team 8
▪ Alone Together
▪ Status: Resolute

The blow came so suddenly she barely had a moment to register it, one moment she was swinging away at the mechanical bitch, the next she had been struck with more force than she could possibly imagine. Her vision blurred and distorted as she hurtled towards the ground, her back striking the surface of the void and blood leaking from a surface wound on her chest. She felt her ribs groan only to stab with pain as she gasped, a hailstorm of metallic shards raining down on her.

Shit!

She tried to roll out of the way but all she could do was shield herself with her wings, covering her head until the storm of shrapnel ended. She gasped, coughing up blood as pain from limbs she still hadn't fully adjusted to lanced through her nervous system. She shuddered, shaking her head a few times, and looked around. She was about to start swearing up a storm when she saw figures forming out of the void around her. A divine hum somewhere far away calling out to her, reaching her ears and filling her with the smallest amount of hope. She wasn't alone anymore.

Attia tried to pull herself to her feet but the pain was terrible, she pressed her head against the ground and gritted her teeth. As she did, someone alighted on the ground next to her and she turned her head to see a dark haired girl weave some manner of magic that permeated her body, mending wounds and even correcting the position of her ribs. Attia coughed again and finally managed to pull herself to her feet as the comms exploded. She forced herself to turn and looked back up at Szofrit with a glare, steadying herself and assessing her surroundings.

She was grateful to Hanno once again, if he hadn't used his protection on her she could only imagine what kind of state her mind would be in. It was hard to concentrate, but it wasn't impossible now. She offered @Kyanna Wynne a genuine smile and quickly moved to support her on her shoulder, using her own polearm to help them both stand. Opening her mouth and releasing her hymn of healing. At first, only sonorous notes rippled forth as usual from her body accompanied by a faint golden fire of healing. Yet somewhere deep in the mix was something else, a new energy she'd not tapped yet. [Divine Magic get!]

Attia coughed, frowning a little at how frail her healing was right now, "Sorry it isn't much," She said to Kyanna.

Rolls

AoE Heal
2d20 EX (10 + 3) + 10 + 5 + 15 = 43 / 3 (0 explosions)
+15 HP to 3 targets
AoE | Harmonic Magic | Attia Patal | 1745 @Creature @Ash Vargold @Kyanna Wynne

Duel
▪ Damage: 9736
▪ Build Sheet

Luthien · Feb 18, 2023

Her consciousness grasped for the trickle of astral energy that managed to seep into this lightless realm, harnessing its power as wisps of stardust materialized around the blonde. They rushed towards Szofrit, clinging to her ankles and wrists as they tried to hinder the magia’s movements… but the connection was weak, her mind distracted by stray thoughts, and the astral bindings flickering for a second was all the woman needed to break free and rush towards the girl.

Hands reached for her throwing knives as Valeria parried the incoming blow, the trust she placed on her muscle memory rewarded when her body responded to the actions and practiced movements—the game’s auto-assist feature turned off since the first day Lúthien had drawn a breath within Arcia. Her body was battered and bruised by the time Szofrit kicked her away, but at least she’d been spared a certain death.

A whimper escaped as her body fell onto the blackened ground, though she refused to give the magia the satisfaction of hearing her scream in pain. Crimson eyes glared up at Szofrit’s face as the ranger struggled back to her feet, a spittle of blood shot in front of the woman’s feet, but before words escaped her a familiar consciousness slipped into her mind.

"Ari…!"

Caution was thrown to the wind as her gaze shifted towards @Yugam, his real name escaping in a whispered breath that caught in the ranger’s throat as she took in the appearance of the man. Blood dripped from both arms, the same blood that formed a massive blade held in his grasp by its bone hilt—one she’d never seen before. His gaze remained locked onto Szofrit, a sharpness within his darkened eyes that Lúthien wasn’t used to seeing. Her eyes shifted, finally catching sight of the lifeless katana resting a few feet behind him, before long strands of pink hair pulled her attention next.

"R-Rael…?" A breath hitched within her throat as hands covered her mouth, her vision blurred by the tears welling within as she noticed the decapitated body slumped on the ground. Swift steps quickly closed the distance between them, unaware of @Alcea‘s consciousness as it drifted into her range or the body that belonged to @Aerial lying not too far from them all. "Rael!!!"

She slumped onto the ground upon reaching @Rael, quivering hands reaching for her friend’s head as she slowly drew it into an embrace. "H-Hold on Rael, please, I c-can fix this… I can fix this!" Shaky words left her breaths as the blonde closed her eyes and cradled her friend close, repeating them again and again in hushed whispers as her mind tethered over the edge of a bottomless abyss.

❰ Lyric Translations ❱

Quiet mutterings turned into a trembling tune, a soft lullaby that she had learned from Beleg months back when she’d begun to delve more into Yladian culture. "T-Ter i lóme, nai lye ómanya r-rahtuva..." Her eyes slowly opened as her hand softly brushed pink strands away from Rael’s face, gently setting the head upon her lap before Lúthien pulled Rael’s body closer.

"Or i s-súre, nai lyenna órenya wilyuva..." Her crimson gaze shifted towards the man once more, a pained look in her eyes as she stared at the back of the hunter that seemed oblivious to those around him, before a hand reached for the signature ribbon Rael wore on her neck. "Á sasta ingalya or telcunyat, nanwie nauvar ilye olorilyar..."

The head and its body were carefully aligned in her lap, tenderly wrapping the fabric around the wound to stabilize it, before her palms softly exerted pressure upon its side. Her voice continued to be the medium that guided the nurturing magic as it shifted and coalesced around them, the bulk of it focused on the elven girl cradled on her lap until the last verse peppered off into the void…

"It’s time to wake up, Rael… we still have much to do."

Team Nein: This is fine...

❰ Lúthien's PlaySheet ❱
Total DMG Dealt: 9736

❰ Rolls & Summary ❱

❰ Main Action: AoE Heal ❱
2d20 EX (3 + 13) + 20 + 20 = 56 / 3 (0 explosions)
+19 HP to @Luthien, @Rael & @Yugam
AoE | Harmonic Magic | Luthien | 1745C2

❰ Bonus Action: Revive ❱
@Rael is revived at 50% HP and receives +19 HP from Lúthien's AoE heal
Luthien

Fina Drago · Feb 18, 2023

What shame was there in desperate survival? It was the innate purpose of all life, after all - survive and propagate. There was nothing more to it, and any grander design was what those unsatisfied imposed upon themselves in a vain hope to elevate themselves above their base needs and their already satisfied peers. No matter how much the world tried, no much how fate itself mocked her, no matter what would be imposed upon her by those stronger than herself... Fina was going to survive. And she was unwilling to let go of a single one of her nine feline lives!

Her axe swung true, but the opponent retreated just as quickly as they appeared. With the void left in their absence, a new court of hell came to be as strangers stumbled across one another, the girl's wish fulfilled, only until the moment that she realized that this would not improve anything. As others came to the same conclusion that they were but a group of damage dealers, half of which already on their last legs, a sense of dread spread. But what better situation than one of absolute hopelessness to push through the best in a person, the most bestial and primal vigor in search of survival?

"Charging ahead is the opposite of staying safe and trying to make it through this alive, you idiot!" She screamed at the crazed magia as she charged straight at their enemy as if she was the lightning itself. "Assume a defensive position! If we cover each other's blind spots, we might just make it long enough to get connected with even more people and, hopefully, some healers!" She screamed, especially at edgy-looking boy, who seemed like the exact type of person who would disregard their own safety in the name of power or whatever. But if they were all doing nothing but getting themselves killed, then how could they ever win this fight in the long run?

Regardless, the feline assumed her defensive stance just as same as before. Her hands might have been tired, getting weaker than they were before, especially with her damaged shoulder. But the light of her lantern was not fading. No, the flame remained as grandiose as it always was, the perfect fire for a forge-master who would shape weapons to fell the gods themselves! And those very weapons fell from the sky, making up for what strength the girl's physical body lacked, one obstacle after another that Szofrit and her relentless attacks would have to get through.

Rolls

▪ Buff: +00 (1)
▪ Save: +00
▪ Inspire: +00

(BA) Shield
Mitigate 15 incoming damage to yourself or a [defense] action target.
Fina Drago | 1745C2

Counter
1d100 (39) + [20] + 25 + 25 = 109
109 damage
Counter successful, 20 damage added!
Mitigate 10 damage.
Arcanamancy | Fina Drago | 1745C2

Duel
▪ Damage: 9845
▪ Build Sheet

Madison Mortiere · Feb 18, 2023

76 / 240

Health
-160 HP (Szofrit's Attack)
+00 HP (Mitigation)
+00 HP (Heal)

Status
▪ Location: Team 4
▪ Alone Together

You will forgive me if I don't have any grand speeches or defiant gestures to make right now. No witty observations, no cutting one-liners. Nothing to make me seem like a badass. Or a protagonist. Nothing to give the renegade magia pause as she reassesses her life choices up until this point.

Just pain. Pain, and darkness. Unending screams, until my throat is raw and my voice hoarse.

My inhibitors should be on. Why aren't my inhibitors on? There should only be numbness. Yet as I look at my left hand, crushed into pulp, I can feel each and every one of the hundred places where it was broken. My fingers, limp and unresponsive. Shards of bone piercing skin. Blood oozing and dripping into the void.

I scream again. I don't think I've stopped.

And I retreat.

Desperate to pull up an unresponsive UI, every ounce of my willpower poured into trying to log out. I don't clock the figures that joined me, occupied as I am with my own survival.

Why am I here?

Why did I ever come back?

I've seen friends fall in battle, to never get back up. The stories in the news when I log out, about people who have gone catatonic playing the illegal VRMMO; people who have died connected to their headsets, discovered days later by loved ones or concerned neighbors.

And for a moment, I am afraid. That I will become like them.

The shadows take me. Inky black hands, reaching out, grabbing me by my shoulders, wrapping me up in their cold embrace as they pull me to safety. Or do I retreat? In that moment, I am not sure. But I still have one good hand; and I am nothing if not a spiteful bitch. As I fall further into the darkness that chokes us all, I tear my other revolver from its holster. With tears burning my eyes, I aim at my target. And with the last ounce of focus I can spare, I pull the trigger.

Rolls

▪ Buff: +00 (1)
▪ Save: +00
▪ Inspire: +00
(BA) Hyperawareness +15 to attacks and buffs, +10 to heal per square of distance, starting from the square adjacent to you and ending on the target's.
Hyper Sense | Madison Freebird
Sneak Attack 1d100 (42) + [40] + 25 + 20 + 30 = 157 157 damage Sneak Attack successful. 40 damage added!
Ranged Weapons | Madison Freebird | 1745C2

Duel
▪ Damage: 10002
▪ Build Sheet

Creature · Feb 18, 2023

92 / 195

Health
-160 HP (Szofrit's Attack)
+42 HP (Kyanna Heal)
+15 HP (Attia Heal)

Status
▪ Location: Team 8
▪ Alone Together

Thanks to the combined efforts of @Kyanna Wynne and @Attia Patal, Creature could feel some of his strength return. The bones in his hand solidified once more. He shook it off for a moment before clenching a few practice fists. Not perfect, but it would have to do for now.

"See that, Szofrit…? You've butchered our bodies, but forgot the human spirit isn't so easily broken… Our stubbornness is our greatest strength... Underestimate it and we shall be your undoing…"

He ducked low once again as he moved to attack the monster. Punching her did more harm than good, so he'd have to be mindful of that. Once Creature reached melee range he dropped to one knee and extended his right hand up with middle finger and thumb tips connected.

"Astorea Smash…!"

With a flick of his middle finger a blast of compressed air fired like a cannon toward Szofrit's chin from below.

Rolls

(BA) Duelist
+30 bonus damage when you attack an enemy in melee.
Creature

Wild Attack
2d100 (50 + 84) + 10 = 144
144 damage
Aeromancy | Creature | 1745C2

(F) Torment
Deal 10 flat damage to an adjacent enemy.
Creature

184 Total Damage

Duel
▪ Damage: 10186
▪ Build Sheet

Alcea · Feb 18, 2023

100 / 160

Health
-60 HP (Szofrit's Attack)
-1 Eye (Szofrit's Attack)
-1 Ear (Szofrit's Attack)

Status
▪ Location: Team 5
▪ Alone Together
▪ Vulnerable from Ultra Protect

She wasn't fast enough, she never was. She could barely summon the speed to step back as she took her shot before pain exploded from the left side of her head. Barely choking back a scream, she was transported to that day. The yelling, the bitterness, anger, resentment. It was flowing freely into her mind and she was drowning.

Then, a flash of light. The oath burned. What did hold did reality have in the world of fantasy? It didn't matter that Ayame was dead and been for years. It didn't matter that she wouldn't have died if Leila wasn't so stupid and introduced her to it. All that mattered was that she was going to see her again, one way or another.

Grabbing hold of a mirror shard, she forced it towards her face, uncaring that it was cutting into her hands. With the last vestiges of that echo, she forced her body to pretend that everything was fine. She wasn't missing an eye and an ear, she just had to adjust to a new set. One that didn't really exist but could work if she forced it to.

Standing tall, she called upon as many shards as she could handle. Compressing the shards, each one felt like it was trying to tear her apart, rejecting the spell she was calling upon, but she pushed through. Whatever she felt right now wasn't important. She just had to win and survive.

The last breaths of dying stars. Alone, they weren't much. Just barely interesting enough to maybe harness into a spell or two before fading away. Together? She could tear apart just about anything with them. Blades emerged from the mass of shards, made of energy that seemed to rip into the space surrounding it and suck light from any nearby source. This spell was her magnum opus, the result of burning through her stockpile and countless hours of spellcraft.

The blades floated over to @Luthien, @Rael and @Yugam. If an attack were to come their way, it would strike back. Repelling the attack by warping space around them making it pass through harmlessly.

Alcea was tired. Over the last few hours, she'd been smacked, burned, shot, slashed and sent flying more times than she could count. Yet, against all odds, she was still here. So she fought.

Rolls

(BA) Auto Assist
+15 to attacks, heals, buffs, checks, contributions, and saves.
Alcea

Ultra Protect
1d100 (79) + 10 + 5 + 15 = 109
109 damage
Give 3 allies within range the Protected State. You are Vulnerable.
Arcanamancy | Alcea | 1745C2
Protected State to @Rael, @Luthien, @Yugam

Duel
▪ Damage: 10295
▪ Build Sheet

Complete 18+ Main Story (S4 Finale) DRAGON.end - Phase 3

Harper

Aerial

Vina Skysong

❮ Lyrical ❯

Shadow

Rael

❮ Lore Seeker ❯

Nyx

Ashifili*

❮ II. Dungeon Knave ❯

Raid Boss

❮ Narrator ❯

Overview

Objectives

Zelrius

❮ Ale King ❯

Jin

Ayna Nietzsche

❮ Lore Seeker ❯

Sean Poteitoku

❮ Blade of Hope ❯

Kyanna Wynne

Magia

Cadmean

Ishtar

Luthien

❮ Lore Seeker ❯

Fina Drago

Magia

Madison Mortiere

Magia

Creature

❮ Protector ❯

Alcea

❮ God's Exceed ❯