We compensate for the lack of power with our unique character. It's a heavy burden to have such a perfect personality sometimes, you know?
Smile, Shinji. Show him your (sharp maliciously draconic) teeth.
We compensate for the lack of power with our unique character. It's a heavy burden to have such a perfect personality sometimes, you know?
Smile, Shinji. Show him your (sharp maliciously draconic) teeth.
[X] Make swarms of rock dragons to attack Mischa and the Tree, exploding/clawing them. Have a smaller group of them protect shinji by sacrificing themselves by taking/absorbing attacks for Shinji ala kamikaze. Shinji will do a fighting retreat to stay away from the trees roots and on ground. As he retreats he will terraform/landscape the area behind him so that he plows over any living tree so that they can not be corrupted.
A lot to unwrap here in this plan after talking with Daiki and running things with Alf. This plan is likely to be of course refined so input is certainly welcome. For record we have about 48 hours in total for this choice.
The main threat is two fold; the axes and the corrupting nature of filth. The filth is turing anything it touches into enemy combatants. So any tree that gets touch or animal will make more stuff for us to fight. Plus shinji really really should not get hit by this stuff. If it hits a non-limb we either die or our loot goes up in flame.
As long as we touch ground that is not corrupted by Mischa, we have access to basically Unlimited prana cause of our potion/fusion/dragon mode. So use it! Making hundreds and hundreds of exploding mini-dragons to claw our enemy is the main idea. But they can also be used to screen Shinji and take attacks for us.
As noted above its super important that we clear the land that we are retreating to. Uprooting trees and killing everything by way of land upheaval. Since we have two partitions Shinji can performed two actions at the same time without too much issue. The Swarm is running on dragon instinct. So remember that detail if you want to add stuff to our action. Shinji can really only do two main things at once. Don't go overboard with complexity.
Last edited by Skull Leader; January 6th, 2019 at 05:55 AM.
[X] Make swarms of rock dragons that will attack Mischa and the Tree, exploding/clawing them. Have a smaller group of them protect shinji by sacrificing themselves by taking/absorbing attacks for Shinji ala kamikaze as well as target anything that gets close to Shinji. Meanwhile Shinji will slowly backtrack in a fighting retreat to stay away from the trees roots yet stay on non-corrupt ground. As he retreats he will terraform/landscape a wide area in his retreat path, so that he plows over any living tree, killing any vegetation so that they will not be corrupted and turned into monsters.
As discussed.
We may still need to iron out a thing or two if people want, but the plan follows the basic idea of keeping Mischa busy (and that tree) while aiming for survival / buying time.
Last edited by Daiki; January 7th, 2019 at 04:03 AM.
[X] Make swarms of rock dragons to attack Mischa and the Tree, exploding/clawing them. Have a smaller group of them protect shinji by sacrificing themselves by taking/absorbing attacks for Shinji ala kamikaze. Shinji will do a fighting retreat to stay away from the trees roots and on ground. As he retreats he will terraform/landscape the area behind him so that he plows over any living tree so that they can not be corrupted
Edit Time
No real changes to the plan here, just a clean up in the language and some clarification to the write in.
[X] Make swarms of rock dragons that will attack Mischa and the Tree, exploding/clawing them. Have a smaller group of them protect shinji by sacrificing themselves by taking/absorbing attacks for Shinji ala kamikaze as well as target anything that gets close to Shinji. Meanwhile Shinji will slowly backtrack in a fighting retreat to stay away from the trees roots yet stay on non-corrupt ground. As he retreats he will terraform/landscape a wide area in his retreat path, so that he plows over any living tree, killing any vegetation so that they will not be corrupted and turned into monsters.
Choice 439: [X] Make swarms of rock dragons that will attack Mischa and the Tree, exploding/clawing them. Have a smaller group of them protect shinji by sacrificing themselves by taking/absorbing attacks for Shinji ala kamikaze as well as target anything that gets close to Shinji. Meanwhile Shinji will slowly backtrack in a fighting retreat to stay away from the trees roots yet stay on non-corrupt ground. As he retreats he will terraform/landscape a wide area in his retreat path, so that he plows over any living tree, killing any vegetation so that they will not be corrupted and turned into monsters.
Chapter 106. Lesser of two evils
Looking more closely upon the war-torn setting some distance away, Matou Shinji was horrified to see that things were worse than he first thought. Akindele’s sand armor was cracked, half-melted, as the bears spent themselves against it in bursts of power, releasing some inky-black substance that corroded the sand, seemed to make it slough off the great golem. Ka’aukai Kapule’s tanifa form was bleeding profusely, screaming as an entire forest rampaged at it, trying to subdue it.
And the armored figure in the distance…
'...t-that's Stukov,' Matou Shinji realized after a moment, taken aback at the sheer amount of devastation the Russian had managed to cause. No, was still causing... 'Did he wreck the bloody shrine where the warp point was?'
The boy couldn't tell, as the area around the armored figure was stained with crawling shadows, with what looked like ropes or...roots of some kind of dark substance bursting through the ground, seeming to grow from the blood Stukov was dripping, spreading some kind of inky filth wherever they touched.
And with the enhanced perception granted by his fairy eyes, he could see three walls of whirling steel surrounding the Russian Champion - axes wreathed with...no, stained with some shadowy substance. The very same that was ripping through the ground, that poisoned the trees he'd awakened and the bears he tore from the earth, with their forms visibly shot through with...veins of filth.
'What in the nine hells...?' he wondered, though he knew that with merely human sight, he wouldn't be able to see much. Hence, he closed his eyes, sinking deep into himself as he opened the door to the world, allowing his soul to merge with that of his sleeping familiar and reaching out his senses, even as an echo of something ancient, almost reptilian, flowed into him without his being able to stop it and he felt the world twisting with a roar of fury, and a sliver of malice infinitely colder than anything human slithered into his thoughts, the merest portion of an intelligence more feral and vengeful than anything of the Age of Man, a being whose deepest wish was to rule - no, not merely rule, but to dominate all life.
The comforting presence of Zelkova's spirit was simply not there at the moment, not in any meaningful way, so it was a strange being that emerged from the fusion. A thing of scales and fangs and claws, whose flesh was enduring as the very bones of the earth, whose eyes...whose eyes, though golden, were slitted and cruel.
In the distance, he could feel a wrongness in the world, a crawling darkness that sought to corrupt all light.
Star-devourer, life drinker, mind-twister.
Poison.
A filth far more deadly than anything physical, something that was the embodiment of ruin, the natural enemy of the law of the world, seeping through from places beyond the world, dimensions from where the denizens of the Outer Dark sought to crawl into this reality.
A vicious snarl twisted his lips as he recognized it, the presence of the enemy, against which all things of Gaia must stand or die, as he heard the screams of the trees begging to die, to be killed, to be set free of their waking nightmare, the nightmare shared by all those who were corrupted by the tendrils of the will of the Outer Gods.
Reaching to the pouch - satchel - at his waist, he downed the thing his lesser form had styled a Potion of All Potential, feeling the ancient furnace within him burn as he did, a growl escaping his lips as he felt his awareness spreading into the world, through it, though it recoiled from what the Vessel of the Foe had done to this place, this sanctuary.
Without a word, he took flight, willing the sandals of the son of Zeus to appear on his feet, his scythe appearing in his hands as he escaped the shrine and bellowed a wordless roar of challenge.
Killing intent, hatred sharp and refined a sword's edge, lanced him as the enemy caught sight of his draconic glory, with shade-wreathed axes quick about the heels of the enemy's gaze, yet not being earthbound, he dodged the clumsy weapons of rune-carved cold iron with a mocking, guttural laugh.
From the satchel at his waist, he withdrew a single item - a vial glowing with the light of the sun - the essence of stars, that which the filth longed to devour most, and with more strength than mortal men could ever muster, he hurled it towards the mob of corrupted trees and fel-touched golems of earth. A minor thing, true, but they paused, frozen in the face of the warm light of that they wished to consume.
Like a star, the vial fell to earth, and as it did, the hosts of the Foe fell into a frenzy, turning away from the half shattered golem of the African Champion, and the battered, bleeding tanifa to this new item of interest, even as he took advantage of this moment of distraction to raise a wall between them and their erstwhile victims.
"Begone," he uttered, a wave of shadow washing out over the battlefield in accordance with his will as the stone bears, the bear of mud and clay, began to unravel, even as the darkness within them reshaped themselves into beast-like conglomerations of blackest corruption made manifest through hunger with a thousand psychic screams that ripped into his mind.
It did not faze him long - it could not, in the face of his implacable hatred towards that which sought to—
A shriek tore through both the worlds of form and mind as one of the corrupted trees managed to smash the vial, consuming the light and magic within.
And as he was distracted—
Axes.
Innumerable axes.
A rain of steel filled with hostility, seeking his death, seeking to end every last trace that he had ever existed, weapons which he dodged by the thinnest of margins, deflected with his scythe, forced away with bursts of prana, even as the earth erupted in spikes around the armored figure, seeking to crush him, to impale him, to rend his flesh...
Though these things of dirt failed against an armor of iron graven with runes, imbued with the power of the Outer Dark, and Matou Shinji hissed, raising a wall of earth to match the walls of steel - or trying - though being not on the ground, his control was much weakened, especially when his will clashed with a force far darker, more hateful than anything of Gaia, and flinched from it as if to contend, power to power, was to be destroyed.
Absently, in some corner of his mind, he could feel presences withdrawing, could sense the weakened golem and the guardian beast shrinking and turning to flee from a battle no longer their own. Yet another remained, focused, his mind cold as the moon, as an echo of Gaia was pointed at the armored one and a cloaked figure said one word.
"Crucio."
For a single moment, the shadows froze, no - writhed, the armored figure at the center of this circus of death seizing up with an inhuman scream, and so too his creations, with the axes faltering as they spun.
"Avada kedavra," the cold voice intoned, a streak of sickly green lancing out across the distance towards the armored figure - intending to take advantage of the momentary gap in the foe's defenses and end him once and for all - and yet as it neared, a tendril of filth rose from the ground to block it, the killing curse fizzling out in the face of something that knew no true death.
Then the moment passed, with the axes awhir once more, and Libatius Mueller screamed as he was ripped out of his shelter by a bear that sprang into existence before him, transformed from one of the axes, a working that Shinji could not unravel before it had ripped off the man's arm and blighted his wand.
Yet, that was not the only danger, for in the distance, the corrupted tree was burrowing its roots into the wall. If he let it alone, it would eventually tear through the defense and maybe catch up to the wounded, staggering figures fleeing.
There were too many threats.
Too many dangers.
Too many things for most any practitioner to deal with, given that however powerful he was and however fast he might move, he could only be in one place at a time. This made the prospect of stopping the tree (and its host of waking shadows), holding Stukov's attention, and saving the most recent of his victims a rather a difficult one.
If he moved towards Libatius, no doubt the Russian would divine his intentions and slay the Brazilian with one of those shadow-wreathed axes while Shinji could only watch. If he moved to the wall to oppose the creature the tree had become (something like a Ent out of Tolkien's imaginings, if an Ent had long limbs of shadow and glowing red eyes), both it and Stukov would focus their fury on him, and even an elder wyrm was cautious in the face of this foe.
Vessels of the star-devourer were not to be taken lightly, as their ilk had once smothered the world.
This...this was an impossible choice, against which all his power meant nothing.
...or at least it would have if he were not an onmyouji, as ofuda had been created exactly to address issues of this sort, so that a sole practitioner with enough preparation - or enough creativity - could fight an entire host of foes.
And so, instead of crying out in despair or making this choice, the boy showed his teeth in a twisted semblance of a smile, as a laugh rumbled in his chest.
Every last ofuda he had left he released into the air, earth ofuda whose edges glistened like those of a sharpened knife, flow ofuda mostly plain, save for the small sigil he'd inscribed on them, explosive ofuda, binding and sealing ofuda too, as paper exploded from him in a thousand different directions.And that wasn't all.
In his new draconic form, he bled prana as he soared through the sky like a shooting star, and so it was no trouble at all to infuse what ofuda paper he had on him with bits of his energy. Shapeless, formless that energy might be, without direction or use, but even so, they would serve a purpose too, as dozens - hundreds - of tiny paper talismans rushed out from him, numerous enough that even the mighty host of shadows and the twisted one who led them might be confused, if only for a moment.
As they headed to the wall, towards Libatius, towards the wall of axes, towards the tree, the shadows writhed, jumping for them, seeking to claw them out of the air and devour them as one of their number had devoured the vial of sunlight and had become strong.
All through this, the master of the shadows, the abomination which allowed that Outside the World to flow into it, kept his attention on his mortal foe, even as Matou Shinji laughed and laughed and laughed, touching down on a patch of unsoiled ground for the merest moment to perform a working, before taking off again, as the wall's nearest surface belched forth hundreds of tiny drakes, each of which sought a shadow.
"MASTER OF WYRMS. I WILL END YOU!"'
"Will you?" Shinji snarled in a rasp like stones grinding against stones, his voice a high, cruel thing, pitched just high enough to carry. "What are you in the end? Nothing but a hairless ape, a misbegotten shadow of your ancestors. You are a boy playing at being a man, a mockery of everything your so-called hero ever was. Worthless as the very dirt."
"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"
Matou Shinji felt it, even across a battlefield as he was.
Rage, utter molten rage bubbling from the misbegotten wretch who sought to blight the earth as his flesh bubbled and the spots of darkness around his armor grew more intense, the spots of darkness around the Russian joining together so that the man was wreathed in a second shadow, one against which Shinji's ofuda were swallowed up.
Axes spilled from him like falling rain, numberless as the stars, and yet Shinji evaded them, flowing from one ofuda to the next, flashing between them in instants briefer than the blink of an eye as his blood sang of battle and he cut down a swathe of lesser shadows with his yin-infused scythe, warping away before they burst as their physical forms were stabbed, skewered, reaped, burned.
...all around him, there was carnage, the smell of fire and blood mingling with the oil smoke of the filth from the Outer Dark, as he cut and cut and cut, before warping away as his miniature wyrms embedded themselves in the shadowy-flesh of the tree abomination and exploded into both threads of yin that cut deeper than any blade, and smoke thick enough to choke most living things.
Not that the poison of the Outer Gods was really living, but it blinded them for a moment all the same, as taking advantage of the chaos, Matou Shinji flowed away from the combat to where several of his ofuda had made their way to Libatius's general vicinity, with one sealing the Brazillian's wound, and the other binding the shadow that was once again manifesting, having risen from the remains of the unraveled bear, only to be blown apart by a point-blank confringo.
Libatius looked up at him, wild-eyed, his fingers almost like a claws as...
"Get out of here," Shinji snarled, even as he cut down the shadow and erected a stone wall between it and him. "Now."
"B-but I..."
"This is beyond you, mortal," the boy who was far more than a boy rumbled, the tip of his suddenly bladeless scythe touching Libatius' Potions satchel as he spoke a single word. "Portus."
Portus.
The spell by which a Portkey might be created - an object metaphysically anchored to a certain location, which on activation, would jerk a practitioner (or other who might be related to one of the world's phantasmal species) from their current location to the location of the anchor, using one of the other textures of reality beneath the World of Man as a shortcut. It was not an easy thing to establish such a path, much less for young minds to travel it - there was a reason that Hogwarts and other schools didn't use it as a primary means of transport for their students, as the last time they had tried, over half their students had been in the infirmary for weeks after.
And yet, for a Matou Shinji who knew the theory of apparition, who had read on flow-walking, who had imbibed the Potion of all Potential, it was but a trifle to see how an anchor might be made to somewhere in his memory.
"Wha—?" Libatius uttered, confused. "Po—"
And then the Brazilian Champion was gone, yanked away from this place to a safer one, even as axes cleaved through stone, reducing it to rubble, and the armored figure seemed to grow as darkness howled from him into the world, each spot of shadow taking root on the ground, with twisted, babbling human-shaped forms rising from them, one of them seizing one of his arms with suddenly extended limbs.
Agony.
Corruption.
The babbling of ages, dreamed and undreamed.
Hate, hate, ha—
The boy did what he had to do, transmuting the limb that had been touched to earth and letting it fall from him as he flowed to a place behind the original wall, and willed a new, untainted clump of earth into the form of his arm, with another wordless utterance being enough to shape that dirt to flesh new and unmangled.
And yet...he was far from safe.
The Ent-thing's roots were almost through, and its host...its host was scaling the wall, intent on his destruction - or if not that, then the corruption of every living thing they so much as touched.
In the face of a foe whose merest touch drained magical energy, eroded even the mightiest defenses, spread an infection that went beyond anything physical, a foe whose numbers grew and grew and grew as they passed through stands of trees or came into contact with any sort of beast, there was only one thing Matou Shinji could do.
Fall back while harassing the foe with expendable constructs, buying time for him to destroy everything in his wake - to glass it, set it to ruin with rot and decay, so that not even the enemy could twist to its use.
Time and again he fell back, a certain portion of his soul screamed that so much should be destroyed, that forests which had grown for vast millennia might be buried, consigned to nothingness, but an infinitely colder portion whispered that if it would not fall to his dominion, best it not exist at all, that it be purged before it could turn against him - or be turned against him.
A volley of Confringos cleared the way, laying waste to the forest behind him, with the earth moving to bury what remained of the stumps and splinters. The larger things that might be consumed.
As for the rest...
'I remember something clever mortals once did...'
What had been their names? Fred and George? It didn't matter. They were inconsequential in the end, even if in the short lifespans mortals were given, they could sometimes be creative beyond what one might expect of hairless apes, spurred to momentary greatness in the face of overwhelming odds.
What mattered was that they had done.
Reducing broken wood to splinters - to dust - and then using this dust against the foe.
Not by throwing it into their eyes or something so clumsy and barbaric - such a tactic would fail, as these beings of filth did not need eyes to see in the first place - but by turning the very dust into something far more refined, the fuel for a working that would turn night to day, and within bounded fields that flickered into existence for a fraction of an instant, burn with the fury of a thousand suns.
Time and again, he drew power from the very earth to shape bone-dry soil and dust into tiny drakes, kamikaze units rushed towards the breach in the wall - and the host of shadows pouring out of it - with reckless abandon, heedless of the danger of corruption.
One by one, they burst, releasing threads of yin that bound or cut, but also the precious cargo of dust they carried, particles of wood scattering through the air and forming a fine cloud, so thick that the fragments of once-living trees would have annoy the eyes and chafe the skin had any mortal walked through them, but the shadows, and the great Ent-like thing that came after them, heeded them not.
Until, of course, a single ofuda without much in the way of force flew forth and exploded - not into shadow, but a whump-BOOM of heat and light - and a powerful bounded field driven by the entirety of Matou Shinji's will flashed into existence for a precious few seconds, as the angry earth trembled under the force of a conflagration greater than anything he'd released thus far.
A song of fire and blood that was music to a dragon's ears, even as for an instant, the inside of the bounded field went utterly black and the boy laughed and laughed and laughed, a sound of stone rubbing against stone, fingernails on chalkboards, coffin lids crashing to the ground.
Within the bounded field, there was devastation, as a blast wave driven not simply by force, but by the last curses of the millennia old trees, swept over the shadowy host, outright obliterating the lesser shades, ripping them apart physically and spiritually. Even the greater shades and the remaining animated trees, save for the giant-Ent thing, were battered and torn, reduce to mere scattered puddles that sizzled on the ground beneath them, a gleaming surface of black glass.
There was a certain irony - perhaps even an elegance - in employing the scorched earth policy (a very Russian strategy) against a champion of Russia, though of course Matou Shinji didn't realize it at the time, focused as he was on maintaining his bounded field so the force of the explosion would rebound from it and wash over the things within over and over and over again, until its last strength was spent.
Only then did the field drop, with the draconic form of Matou Shinji taking flight as he bore witness to the ruin within - and the now-vulnerable form of the greatest of the corrupted trees - the one which had consumed starlight and grown into that it was now.
The cloak of filth around it had been seared away, and it was tottering now, weak.
Weak enough that the boy could cleave it in twain with a slash of his yin-wreathed scythe, the merest touch allowing him to turn wood to stone, and stone to dust.
In the face of the power that the Master of Wyrms had shown, the armored figure in the distance seemed to fall into a panic - or was it a rage? - as axes of shadow hurtled across the distance, only to miss or be deflected as Matou Shinji danced across the sky, accompanied by a host of tiny wyrms intent on the dark figure's destruction.
From one wyrm to another, the boy flowed, evading his opponent's axes, though even he dared not cross the three spinning walls of axes that was the Russian's greatest defense, axes which shredded wyrms, tore apart ofuda, seemed to destroy everything they touched.
Nothing could get past.
...except, something had.
The Brazillian mortal's spell - the Cruciatus.
...and did he not have in his possession a necklace with gems of fine quality? Seven gems, each capable of storing a spell? In the back of his mind, something whispered that this was a magical number, that a seven-fold working would be quite powerful indeed, but at the moment, that didn't matter, simply that the being before him had to die for what it had done.
For what it represented.
Fury, he poured into his working. Malice. Hate. The will to see the one before him suffer. To see him fall into oblivion.
These and more he used to fill the seven stones, one with the wish that the enemy might know agony everlasting, six with the wish that the enemy might be brought low at last.
And then it was finished, and as the drakes flung themselves on the foe's axes, occupying its defense, the boy flew up high, spinning around.
This spell - this combined technique - what would he call it, he wondered, as he cocked the weapon in his mind. And then it came to him.
Seven spells. Seven shots.
Seven-Bullet Revolver.
In one moment, several things happened all at once.
The armored figure froze as the torture spell took hold of him, and so too his axes.
Six spears of emerald light hurtled from the sky towards the dark one.
And tendrils of shadow rose to block the spells, yet those were only a distraction for the weapon in his hand.
"Avada kedavra!" he roared in triumph, as his last bolt of power struck home, and Mischa Stukov, Champion of Russia, twitched...and died.
'It is finished. It is finished at last...'
So the boy thought - just before the corpse burst, and something...some evil-shaped form whose figure hurt even to look upon exploded into being, the dimensions - reality iself – screaming around him as the boy was hurled to the ground, his drakes erased as if they had never been.
Around him, the very rules of the world changed, overwritten by something from beyond the boundary of reality.
Feeling this, knowing this, Matou Shinji knew true fear.
'...oh...oh…shit...'
Choice 440: What does Matou Shinji do next? (Remaining time - 20 minutes)
[ ] (write-in)
Last edited by alfheimwanderer; January 7th, 2019 at 11:03 PM.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
...Wait, that's the wrong meme. Ah!"Do you have enough Earth, King of Bears?"
That's the one."People die when they are killed!"
Well, it seems that next time we should write down explicitly :"Don't kill this abominable creature Shinji, ffs!" It's a pretty IC behaviour, true, but I would appreciate creative thinking from protagonist more if it didn't screw everything over. On the plus side, at least this time it's not our decision-making skill that is at fault! What a nice,
incredibly rare exception to established pattern.
Ah, voting.
[ ] Run away. Throw everything you encounter in the AboMischa's path.
I'm not even joking. We barely stood our ground in a straight fight before Abomination overtook Mischa, now our chances are very, very slim: it almost certainly acquired a power boost and a lot of nasty conceptual effects. On the other hand, Shinji is fast, much faster with PoAP's capped Movement, Fusion, Sandals, Apparition, Flow and Body Perfection. With no allies to anchor him here, we can finally go all out. ...All out of here, I mean.
Yeah, that's our Hero, boys, learning humility at inhuman rate. I hope it's everything we all wished for!
*Sigh*
Last edited by Malorius; January 9th, 2019 at 03:30 PM.
Malorius, you have not been talking with Alf on that plan cause there are information about this scenario that is important that invalidates your action. This stuff was all from a discussion with Daiki, Skulkid, Alf and myself. I will try to some up the stuff for you as best I can.
Time limit to end of PoAP 20 minutes which is also the likely moment that Ayaka, Ramona and Elesa will be done with their own fight so that they can assist/help Shinji.
The Dreamer here has a reality marble like thing around it that causing the area inside it to be disconnected by Gaia and alters the rules to an alien world. Inside this bubble Shinji can not access natural prana in the area since there is very very little left nor can he manutiple earth anymore since its no longer registers as untainted. And since Fusion draws on the users prana and the natural prana in the air, our Fusion currently runs the risk of dropping if Shinji starts throwing large amount of prana around. Thank god Shinji has a better prana generation so he is not fully crippled at the moment.
This Bubble is about a kilometer wide centered on the dream and will follow it as it moves around. If you attempt to go to the edge of the bubble, you will just appear on the exact opposite side of the bubble IE if you go to the western edge you will appear on the eastern edge still inside the bubble.
Shinji is basically incapable of punching a hole in this reality, hence he is stuck here for the time being. Inside this bubble Shinji will slowly be corrupted by breathing in the contaminated air. The monster will slowly increase the airs contamination if left unchecked but it can be distracted if its force to regenerate itself or distracted by other means. Any hit on us by the dreamer or its tentacles will greatly increase said taint forcing Shinji to funnel the taint off of himself and into one of his loot items where he will then break said item, destroying the filth. Thus Hits = destroyed items.
The Dreamer is as you expect is way beyond Shinji's ability to destroy especially when he is cut off from the outside world. This is both a good thing and a bad thing, as while we might not be able to kill it at least the Dreamer considers Shinji to be too small to notice any more. Shinji is basically a fly to it one that it will not actively swat. If you attack it, it will respond but it still is not going to go all out since you are not going to kill it but only make it waste time and energy regenerating itself.
Not all is lost, Ayaka's familiar is currently flying over to us and will puncture a hole from outside so that we may escape in around 5 minutes time. So we just have to last 5 minutes against this monster without being hit by it. Ideally while doing damage to slow down the corruption. Harpe will be able to cut its tentacles and slow it down, but to do so you have to get close to the tentacles and it will attempt to swat Shinji once you do some damage.
And that about it for the scenario factors that need to be crunched to figure out a course of action. So far there has not been any determined plan that has been agreed to by people, just tossed ideas.
[X] Charge the Necklace of Netted Stars with seven spells using the energy from the staff at first. Discharge the spells at the Dreamer to force it to regenerate. Stay mobile in the air, dodging its swats, using all three dimensions to do so. Combat Apparition sparsely to avoid hits. Between Necklace attacks, fly into melee on a occasion to melee the tentacles to hinder its regen.
That is the plan as been discussed. As always if you got something you like to add please suggest it. We tossed around using the ring or using the echo blood, but we really did not like those options in using up the ring or turning us permanently into an inhuman (vampire?).
We can draw energy from our charged staff so rather than firing it in one big bang, we figured we would use it as a battery to figure spells at it (not like they will do much but it keeps its busy maybe). Energy conservation is key here combined with not getting hit. And making sure Harpe does its thing.
[X] Charge the Necklace of Netted Stars with seven spells using the energy from the staff at first. Discharge the spells at the Dreamer to force it to regenerate. Stay mobile in the air, dodging its swats, using all three dimensions to do so. Combat Apparition sparsely to avoid hits. Between Necklace attacks, fly into melee on a occasion to melee the tentacles to hinder its regen.
As discussed.
[X] Charge the Necklace of Netted Stars with seven spells using the energy from the staff at first. Discharge the spells at the Dreamer to force it to regenerate. Stay mobile in the air, dodging its swats, using all three dimensions to do so. Combat Apparition sparsely to avoid hits. Between Necklace attacks, fly into melee on a occasion to melee the tentacles to hinder its regen.
Thanks for explanation, SL.
[X] Charge the Necklace of Netted Stars with seven spells using the energy from the staff at first. Discharge the spells at the Dreamer to force it to regenerate. Stay mobile in the air, dodging its swats, using all three dimensions to do so. Combat Apparition sparsely to avoid hits. Between Necklace attacks, fly into melee on a occasion to melee the tentacles to hinder its regen.
Choice 440: [X] Charge the Necklace of Netted Stars with seven spells using the energy from the staff at first. Discharge the spells at the Dreamer to force it to regenerate. Stay mobile in the air, dodging its swats, using all three dimensions to do so. Combat Apparition sparsely to avoid hits. Between Necklace attacks, fly into melee on a occasion to melee the tentacles to hinder its regen.
Chapter 107. Beyond All Hope
Matou Shinji was no stranger to bad situations, or to facing long odds. In fact, from the start of his time at Hogwarts to this very moment, the boy had made a habit of biting off more than most expected he would be able to chew. Whether fighting a troll and seeking to stymie the plots of a practitioner of the Dark Arts as a first year, dealing with Lockhart's Kobayashi Maru examination in second year, or facing down an entire colony of Acromantulae as a third year, he'd done things that no Hogwarts student would have dared imagined, and not only survived, but triumphed.
'The only great monsters of Britain that I haven't fought yet are what? Basilisks? Wyvens?' he'd once wondered, thinking that even these would pose little difficulty to him, given the sheer power and durability that fusing with Zelkova lent him. Being able to resist the fangs and claws of any beast, to laugh as spells broke on his hide, to call upon the earth to lend him (and his spells) strength, he was a titan among gnats, or so it seemed
Then fourth year had arrived, and the boy's perspective had been turned on its head. He'd lost his place in the world when he was stripped of his name and banished from the place of his birth. He'd fought others who practiced onmyoudo and had been bested, despite every trick, every ounce of cunning he could bring to bear. He'd borne witness to the incredible potential of people like Sajyou Ayaka and Elesa Labelle, against which, his own meagre talents were like a match trying to outshine the sun. On the isle of Thule (or was it simply Ultima Thule, since it wasn't on any map), a place removed from the world of man, he'd discovered that despite how far he had come, his strength meant little when tested against things like a nuckelavee, a lindworm, or of course...an echo of an Ultimate One.
Yet...in the end, he'd manage not only to stand against those foes, but to help make their defeat possible, something he would never have imagined in his wildest dreams. Together with Elesa, he'd conquered the ancient labyrinth created by a lingering spirit of the First Age, obtaining the treasure within.
With the skills he'd honed through battle, the strength conferred upon him by the treasures he'd won, and the potential he'd unlocked through a clever potion he'd made, he'd even slain the Russian Champion - the ancestral enemy of his line - in single combat.
...only now, what he was facing was far beyond anything in his experience, except maybe the First Jinn, which was not exactly promising, given that even with the full power of a Heroic Spirit burning though him and a world which had been friendly to him (in that it had weakened the Jinn a thousand fold, and had helped to remove him from the Jinn's presence), it had been all he could do to survive the encounter long enough that he could escape.
Here and now, facing the Dreamer, things were...worse than when he'd faced the Jinn, as he had no Command Seals and no heroic spirit. He could not draw prana from the air or the earth, as ground and ether were now of the other entity's realm now, with something fundamentally opposed to prana staining them.
The boy went airborne as soon as he could, with a mumbled spell creating a bubble of uncontaminated air for him to breathe in - not that such would remain for long, not if the Dreamer continued to corrupt the world uninterrupted. For that was the purpose of this extension of the Dreamer - this organ of the whole extended into reality of Gaia: to change the world enough that the whole of the Dreamer might claw its way through, and if that happened.
Everything he knew would be at an end.
'No...that won't happen. I won't let it.'
But how was he suppose to fight such a thing? Even as powerful as he had become, as much as he had grown since he'd first gained the power to work his craft, everything he knew was screaming that this was an enemy that he could not beat - could not even really hurt.
Still...it wasn't as if facing the echo of an Ultimate One had been any less suicidal, and he'd still won the day, hadn't he? So he'd do what he could, because whatever he was - however little power he had compared to a god, or even a fraction of one, he refused to give up without a fight.
'And its not as if I have no tools at all. After all, the spells of practitioners are not prana intensive...'
And with the tool around his neck - the Necklace of Netted Stars - he could use more than one at a time. More than two at a time.
Seven at a time, in fact.
So he attacked, launching flurries of spells at the avatar of the Outer God, powered by the prana lingering in his scythe, as that was all he had left, flinging cruicos and confringos mixed with other spells.
Avada Kedavras. Reductos. Bombardas and more.
The vast majority had no effect.
A few, when enhanced with yin, seemed to momentarily darken a small patch on the glowing form of the Dreamer, or to open little rents on its skin, but those faded so quickly the boy thought he'd only imagined it. But affected it, his spells had, which gave the boy hope.
'Seven more then...seven that it can't ignore,' the boy thought to himself, pouring into the necklace his hate for this twisted thing, his loathing for the Outer Dark and all it represented, his will to see it destroyed, consumed by darkness.
"Seven Bullet Revolver!" he intoned, flashing forward towards the enemy, accompanied by seven beasts born of hellfire, each of which rushed the avatar of the dark as if seeking to embrace it.
As for he himself...
"Take this!" he snarled, using his scythe to slice into - and through - the neck of the glowing figure, before darting away, trusting in the properties of Harpe to wound this creature beyond its ability to heal, even as beasts of flame grabbed onto its limbs, slammed into its torso and back, wreathing it in the embers of destruction.
'It...didn't even defend itself?' he had a chance to wonder, before the head - what he thought was a head, slipped from the severed neck of the enemy and fell to the ground, with the boy loosing a final Fiendfyre at this severed fragment of the Outer God. 'Did I...was that it?'
For a moment, the boy thought that he'd managed the impossible, but in the next, everything went wrong.
The flames of the fiendfyre beasts were suddenly - impossibly - snuffed out, leaving the Dreamer untouched, as if they'd never assaulted it at all.
Even the head...
No, that wasn't...that couldn't...
AGONY.
A tentacle of inky filth grasped him in mid-air and slammed him to the ground, with the boy feeling like his skin was melting off as the darkness pierced him, as its venom crept into him, flowed into him, poured itself down his throat, into his nose, into his ears and eyes, flooding into every orifice as voices, maddened voices screamed babbled shouted echoed ovER OvEr OVER OvEr eVeRy THouGht In HIs head.
Once, he'd been beneath notice.
A mere gnat in the presence of a giant whose very presence poisoned the world, with the Dreamer content to let him be, knowing that soon enough, he would die - that he lacked the power to wound it in any great way.
So his earlier attempts to strike it with spells had proven, so it had continued to ignore him.
Until he'd made a terrible mistake.
He'd given the Outer God a reason to pay attention to him by hurting it, however fractionally, with Harpe, becoming an irritation worth swatting.
This...this is how the story ends.
A would be hero drowned in Filth, twisted by an enemy far beyond his ability to comprehend into an emissary for their kind, a replacement for one he had slain. A Foreigner to all things of Gaia, an Enemy, inimical to this current reality, longing to drink dry the lifeblood of the world.
Hunger. Thirst. The endless abyss waited, soon to swallow up the world and all within it.
His last thought as a mortal - as a being of earth, was the memory of two purple eyes looking down at him before he cut their bearer down, swallowed her up like--
No. No. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Through the haze of darkness, through the corrosive power burning through him, his rejection burned. Red-hot. White-hot. Blue-hot. Hotter than the surface of the sun. Than the heart of a dying star. Hotter than the moment all creation was born, as his will, as infinitely small as it was, screamed its defiance against the mind of an Outer God, grasping for something, anything to let him not be the death of all that was and would be.
There wasn't a path - wasn't a reality where a mere human could escape from the corruption of a Dreamer, of one of those in the screaming void, but so what? What did that matter? What mattered possibility in the face of what had to be, what could not be, what he would not allow.
Perhaps his choice was reckless, perhaps it was insane, but in that moment, what was left of the boy was well beyond rational thought. For such as he, there were no limits. Not anymore. Living things might fear death, but he had no such fear, no such restraint, no chains that he would allow to bind him from his promise, from his purpose.
If any sought to bind him, he would break them himself, no matter the source. If there was no path to victory, he would create one, no matter the cost.
The siren song of the filth was the cold of the darkness itself, of the heat death of the universe, so terrible in its inevitability that once infected, it was meaningless to resist, no matter how his soul burned, blazed in the light, seeing to be heard by something, anything, consuming itself that it might not be consumed by something which would use it as an instrument to destroy everything he'd ever loved...
It was impossible. Utterly so. And yet, even now, even trapped by the power of a reality not of his own, by the will of something which could unmake the world of man and all the other layers of Earth, still he refused, still he rejected, still he defied, running, running running, trusting that the dreams he left behind would steer him true.
Even if the universe - if all the parallel worlds - stood in his way, barring his path, his seething blood would fight on, would carry him through without a shred of hesitation, until at last he reached the place where he belonged, the place he dreamt of from the first.
The place by Sokaris' side, as a protector of the world.
From the filth-soaked form of Matou Shinji, light erupted, power more potent than anything any mortal could lay claim to, could hope to withstand, light hot enough, fierce enough to push back the darkness, as he roared a nameless, wordless roar of fury, of will.
'Corrupt me? Me? YOU DARE?!' he seethed, his thoughts flowing once more, the light burning inside him, pouring out of him, resonating with the ring of saint quartz what he wore on his hand. It thrummed, it sang, and the boy - the boy cried out, as the oil slick corruption bubbled out of him, driven out by something that for the briefest possible moment, had transcended all limits, his entire body wreathed in silver flames as his soul turned itself into a pyre. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM?"
But his defiance did not go unnoticed, as the Dreamer turning its attention upon him, and with some unutterable syllable, imposed its will directly on the boy's, the blaze nearly snuffing out under the regard of an entity as vast as a universe.
And yet...the boy did not give in.
'Fuck...you...' he thought, his hand moving to the pouch at his hip, grabbing one of the flasks of silver blood within - blood carrying an echo of the power of the moon, and crushing it, even as the glass cut into his skin.
Blood sang to blood.
Wish sang to wish.
And in the darkness of that false world, the moon fell.
Saint Quartz Ring: 2 Wishes Remaining
Necklace of Netted Stars & Belt of Physical Perfection Lost
1 (of two) flasks of Echo's blood - lost.
Choice 441: Whose perspective would you like to see the next chapter from? (choose two)
[ ] Luna Lovegood
[ ] Elesa Labelle
[ ] Ayaka Sajyou
[ ] Rachelle Lestrange
[ ] Olu Akindele
[ ] Libatius Mueller
Last edited by alfheimwanderer; January 11th, 2019 at 12:14 AM.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
[ ] Elesa Labelle
[ ] Libatius Mueller
Oh my. That was exciting and chilling in all the right ways, don't get me wrong, but uh... My sweet, sweet Belt. The sacrifice of optimization dreams, thou art terrific indeed! (Let's hope that Elesa will throw the Stamina belt our way. If she isn't angry with another one of our heroic suicides, hm.)
Also, one Wish is lost. The Ring has lost it's pristine quality as a gift, it's used goods now. I, for one, will be really ashamed to present it to Sion now. Like, I didn't think I would feel such chagrin because of this, but apparently I grew quite invested with the idea.
Also also, I really wanted some of that inhuman transformation from the blood, even if consumption brings some significant character transformation and makes us miss some opportunities. Like not being able to brew something amazing from it for political favor/personal use (or, you know, becoming even more socially ostracized).
On the bright side for you, conservative folks, at least Shinji swallows absurdly dangerous liquid under PoAP influence, so the consequences are definitely going to be mitigated!
Somewhat.
- - - Updated - - -
[ ] Elesa Labelle
"Another one of those days, is it? Time to save the damsel in distress, I guess. Again."
[x] Luna Lovegood
Since I don't like our (provisionally) Main Heroine all that much, maybe looking at pretty explosions through her eyes will help. I hope.
- - - Updated - - -
Alf, can we have Ayaka as a choice of POV?
Last edited by Malorius; January 10th, 2019 at 06:16 AM.
Added.Originally Posted by Malorius
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - A.A. Milne
[x] Ayaka Sajyou
I require more Sempai in my life. All shades of Sempai are accepted. For, uh, research reasons, of course.
Seriously, we haven't seen anything from her PoV for ages, it feels. And since she will definitely have at least her familiar on site, well. Good opportunity!
[x] Luna Lovegood
[x] Libatius Mueller
Seem like the most interesting to me.
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