Thrum.

Skallagrim felt, no rather heard the soft click of a relay igniting the rocket boot. It was too late, his foot raced down as the boot, a micro-second later ignited, launching the right foot of Scion upward at incredible speeds.  Scion’s rocket-assisted foot rose then colliding and finally lifting the downward accelerating foot of the Dreamer, all in the space of a heartbeat. The collision knocked Skallagrim back, off balance and away. 

Trying to regain his balance, Skallagrim stumbled amidst the lounge chairs littering the beach area. His black dagger roiling in barely contained rage as the skeletal being watched the man known as Scion fly back beyond the speaker system he had produced earlier. Keefe, the war sword hummed as the Seidhr raced furiously along its length and breadth. 

As the man landed another soft click occurred, the speaker system erupting in a sonic burst.  The blaring cacophony, annoying as it had been, recently weaponized with the intent to harm the Dreamer, closed on its target.  A thousand Dreamers smiled in their slumber as they watched the rolling sound wave. How long had it been since they had seen sound like this? A raucous mash-up of musical notes turned into a weapon. It had been on the planet Sertania, the people there spoke in whistles and moans, much like the cetacean of this world. 

Ah yes, the Sertanians. They are a beautiful species, large creatures residing in the vast oceans of their world. It was their intelligence and  wonderfully complex language that attracted the Dreamer Hafjarl to them. They had weaponized their sounds; their beautiful and haunting voices were incredible weapons of destruction. Even as the Dreamers scanned the fragment of that event, a fondness settled upon them. They had proven to be wonderful companions; they had lived and evolved over a hundred million years. Alas, many died off as their planet shifted slightly on its axis, altering the weather to the point that the oceans, once a sanctuary became their downfall.  

While the Dreamers, as a rule only observe events as they happen, felt compelled to aid their erstwhile companions. At the behest of the Queen, Dreamers reached through space and time, saving as many of the Sertanians as possible. Now they lay scattered across the multiverse, small groups of these creatures existing under the protection of their benefactors.

Skallagrim stood straight facing the weapon known as the Bass Canon, the amethyst energies glowing with such intensity that the entire area bathed in a purplish glow.  Everything became . . . silent as the extremely high-power and destructive sound waves, in fact, all sound ceased. That destructive sound transformed into a stifling and oppressive heat, as a dozen balls of orange-yellow plasma, roughly the size of beach balls formed in the air around Skallagrim. The plastic and metal lounge chairs melted into toxic goop on the buckling and cracking concrete under the intense heat. The water in the vast pools comprising the park steamed and evaporated with such rapidity that visual acuity diminished to a scant few feet. 

Had Scion utilized this weapon earlier it would have been effective, damaging even. However, the Dreamer had laid down an induction field, had drawn the energies of the park into the field, and was able to affect the weapon with ease. 

As the oppressive steam filled the area that both combatants resided, the tremendous heat of the plasma balls made their presence known. Wooden structures burst into flame, the pressurized tanks full of helium and soda erupted in silent protest to the heat. The giant fiberglass slides deformed, melted and released fragments of fibers as well as noxious and deadly compounds into the air. The battlefield had become deadlier as the fumes roiled against the dome containing it. 

It was now a hellish arena. Sound existed a fraction of a second before converting to heat. The shifting and swarming black cloud of toxicity roiled around them generating its own wind through the water park. Asphalt melted, buildings burned and the concrete cracked. 

Skallagrim stood amid the molten lounge chairs, weapons held ready as he focused on Scion and Dennis. Whatever happened next would be at the invitation of the duo.