[center][h3][color=138808]Knight Sylvestre[/color][/h3] Location: Oldtown[/center] If the three attackers bearing down on the College personnel whatsoever, they did not show it. Behind the torrent of water, Howell and Raleigh appeared utterly confident, not even flinching as Souta swung his warhammer at nothing. From the weapon, ghostly green skeletons burst forth to fly, chattering, into the typhoon, but they were dashed to pieces in an instant. Before he could do anything else the invisible weight fell upon him from above, and the smith was forced to his knees. By that time Juniper reached the water from her side, and having evidently grown accustomed to her new legs in a time nothing short of remarkable, she flung herself toward the two intruders. A blast of water slapped her from the side before she even got close, slinging her back only to land on her feet. She stepped into the surging water just as Cyril arrived opposite her, and they entered the outermost section at the same time. For a split second their footing held, and it seemed as though they might be able to ford the maelstrom, but neither could even process that they were making progress before the flow's strength increased and sent both tumbling to their feet. The impact with the ground drove the breath from Cyril's lungs, but that sudden jolt of pain paled in comparison to the crushing sensation that followed. The unknown force pressed against him with cruel power, threatening to squash him between it and the cobblestone. He could only give a ragged gasp as he felt the bones injured during his fight with Juniper threatening to give again. He hoped that whatever his enemy was hurting him with would go after one of his temporary allies next, but this desperate plea went unheard; understanding his critical condition, the force struck him again. Meanwhile, Souta and Juniper had pulled themselves up, and the former shouted something to the latter. Though too far away for it to possibly hit, Juniper aimed a kick with her more technological leg, and a compartment opened just above the foot to produce a glowing blue bomb. Like a professional athlete she sent the bomb flying, and the cascade at it up. The brilliant blue light became a blur, spinning around the typhoon, until it exploded a split second later. While the blast itself did not blow through the watery barrier, the noise and shockwave startled the College employees inside, shifting their focus from the fallen knight to the martial artist. Her new technique complete, Juniper spun away in time to avoid a crush. The next moment, a second bomb went the way of the first, keeping her enemies' eyes on her. Souta suddenly loomed over Cyril, and the smith reached down to help the vanguard up. “Nothing's getting through!” he yelled through the noise. “Whatever that woman's doing with the water is crazy strong, but I don't think either really know what they're doing! They're high on their own power! We just need to figure out a weakness in the magic!” His warhammer dissipated in a rush of water from his hoodie, and a strange-looking shotgun appeared in its place. He fired off what looking like a spike made of blue fire into the maelstrom, but it was tossed away like a flicked matchstick. Through the torrent Cyril could see the devious-looking man turn his attention to the two of them, and on reflex he raised his shield above his head. [i]CLANG![/i] The vanguard could barely keep standing, his knees shaking and alight with muscle pain, as the invisible force descended upon him again. Having knelt, Souta shot another fire spike, this one aimed lower. Predictably, it was blown back, but this time by the current. With an inward grown Cyril slumped sideways in a weak attempt at a dodge, his Sheen carrying him out of the way. Souta sprinted the other way, and down again came the crush. Its attack exploded the spike, which detonated in a burst of blue fire. However, the flame spread as though something were blocking it, and as it raced sideways it curled up around the outline of its obstacle. For an instant, the azure blaze highlighted the shape of a giant foot, bizarre and alien, but a foot nonetheless. This did not escape anyone's notice. “Whatever it is reacted with Deluge's spirit fire!” Souta observed, his remark lost upon Cyril, whose skin crawled as he imagined some kind of enormous, intangible, spectral entity attacking him. Demons he could fight, but ghosts were the domain of warlocks and necromancers. [i]Great.[/i] There was a chance he and the others could put their heads together and figure out an exploitable flaw, but under an assault like this? Juniper, in the middle of another bomb kick, took a hit from the entity for the first time. Without much in the way of defense, but a lot in the way of injury, she crumpled under the blow. “Gaaah!” Both of the College personnel were looking her way, leaving an opportunity. Smart or not, it was a decision that Cyril had to make in a fraction of a second. “Go, go, go!” He barreled forward, fast as his weary legs to carry him. Souta ran ahead, his hammer materializing in his off hand. Both men entered the current, and to their surprise the stayed standing. Without any time to be surprised, however, they moved forward. It was tough going, but Cyril felt elated that he was somehow doing it. “Brace yourself!” he bellowed, knowing another crush was imminent. Instead of ducking down, Souta lifted his weapons up as a makeshift shield, and together with Cyril did his best to block the attack. Around them, the raging water weakened, and Cyril took another step. One more and he would be able to thrust his glaive into the man's midsection. “Keep it up!” Juniper's voice came from behind as she got to her feet, and she moved toward the trio's enemies. The moment she did, the current returned to its full power, carrying both Cyril and Souta off their feet. Caught in the typhoon, they flew back out of range, their progress lost. Juniper's face was one of anger. “What!? How did you mess that...!?” A wall of water cut her off, washing her away as well. When Cyril looked back at his foes, he found the maelstrom even angrier than before. From behind him and to his right, Juniper shrieked in pain beneath the weight of another attack from the entity. He staggered to his feet, using his polearm as a third leg. “It's...because of us,” he gasped. “The water's responding to something about us. Emotion...?” That didn't make sense. They'd all been confused, fearful, aggressive, and so forth this whole time. The flow had been weakest right after he and the smith had worked together to survive the entity's attack, but only so long as Juniper was down. He couldn't figure out the connection for the life of him, which would soon be a very literal problem at this rate. From the middle of the swirling shell of water, the two College people had regained their confidence. The brief moment they'd been close to danger came completely by surprise, but with Souta, Juniper, and Cyril worn down and at a loss for a solution, that moment seemed far off. “Finish them!” The man called, but not to his colleague. The vanguard couldn't react before a pressure closed in on him from all directions. His arms and legs were pinned against him, and he was lifted into the air. No amount of wriggling would set him free. If whatever he'd seen before was a foot, this could only be the entity's hand. About the ins and outs of his invisible assailant, however, Cyril wasn't really thinking. The only thing he knew was that he was trapped—trapped by something he didn't understand, and going to die. [center][h3]The Fungal Knight[/h3] Location: the Big Top [@Banana][/center] Contrary to what its colorful, inflatable exterior might imply, the blow-up hammer wielded by the clown struck like a miniature freight train. Its concussive force would have fractured every bone in the basilisk's body had it any bones to break. If the clown had been fast enough to strike at Bonesword during his brief flight to a nearby table, it could have spelled the end for the skeleton's trusty Shroomblade as well. As it was, the jeering jester trudged after him, hammer in hand. More than used to bright and sudden lights, the flash surrounding Bonesword gave the clown no pause, but the sight of what his adversary became shocked the clown for one fleeting moment. After the initial jolt wore off, however, the funny man's freakish features grew into a snide smile. He understood very well that the being of bone before him had become a bozo like he, and moreover, he knew just where hit own species hurt. Holding his hammer in both hand like a pike, the clown charged forward with his considerable mass. The head of his weapon zoomed toward Bobonesword's big red nose. [center][h3]The Cereal Killer and The Book Keeper[/h3] Location: Historical District [@Propro][@BCTheEntity][/center] The siblings Davian and Aralynn watched their opponents from across the water with crossed arms and calm faces. Of the two, Aralynn felt greater elation, though better concealed, at having power enough to threaten these competitors, who'd proven their monstrous strengths in their fights against one another. From the moment she'd started watching Oren's recordings she had felt jealous indeed of all the myriad abilities the strangers from afar seemed to have. Now that she commanded a supernatural talent of her own, however, she felt positively delighted. In particular she enjoyed the theatricality of this encounter—she had, after all, prevented her initial few missiles from hitting their marks so as to not end the fight too quickly. These people needed to know the faces of those who would put them down, and save the world from the calamity of a terrible wish. This fight wouldn't be over with a few missiles, but she had plenty to spare. Around Motley, the shadow figures continued to evade him, even turning into blurs to get out of the way of his own stand's attacks. He fired off his repartee, a bloody fingernail laced with Heavy Fuel's miasma, in the direction of the biggest missile seeking him out. When the two projectiles made contact, the missile itself passed through Motley's organic matter, but the corrosion of Heavy Fuel set in without delay. For a moment the missile blackened before exploding midair. Out of the smoke cloud it left behind, the smaller missiles appeared, still on course. Aralynn watched as Motley extruded the remainder of his fingernails to make into a revolting lasso, which he spun above the heads of his allies to make a shield. Narrowing her eyes, the twin raised her hand, and the smaller missiles angled upward. They continued to rise as long as she kept her hand aloft, and the moment she dropped it, they turned in midair to fly back toward their original target. Now they were coming from above in spread formation. At this point, Aralynn ignored them, and instead raised her elbows to either side of her head to open up four compartments, one in each upper and lower arm. A quartet of medium-size missiles sailed forth, far faster and more direct than the smaller ones. When he opened up his journal, Runch found two additional pages filled out. [i]Davian Thule Student of language Intelligent, caring, and resourceful Stand Name: Boys of Summer Humanoid in form, Boys of Summer is a collective stand best described as innumerable, nondescript shadow people.  They are vaguely visible to non-users through technological displays like security cameras and television monitors.  To other Stand users, they are more solid, but still lack identifying features Stand Power: Silent Protectorate Boys of Summer appear en masse around the user independently, and can blink into existence around anyone whom the user’s emotion focuses around for a short period.  They surround the target as best they can, standing very close by but moving in quick, short bursts so that the target doesn’t touch them.  They stand silently, watching everything in the vicinity, and moving along with the target whenever the target relocates.  They make an effort to avoid touching the target, up to the point of adopting supernatural speed. More appear, walking in from the distance to join the crowd, whenever the target vocalizes any sort of request for help.  Boys of Summer can ‘activate’ whenever something bad happens in their vicinity, and a single one can spend its existence to avert that happening. Most notable, they serve as meatshields against Stand attacks, completely negating one attack at a time. A Far Distance Autopilot-type stand, Boys of Summer operates via its own guiding intelligence, and is empathetic in nature Aralyyn Thule Student of Archaeology Intelligent, ambitious, and forceful Stand Name; Heatseeker Heatseeker has no body of its own Stand Power: Missile Generation Heatseeker responds to the will of its user to convert parts of the user's body into mechanical compartments that can open to reveal missile launchers inside. Having a body part converted into a compartment has no adverse affects on the user whatsoever, and after the compartment closes, the area is completely normal once again. It can also effect clothes. The missile launchers can take virtually any shape, from individual launchers to entire missile arrays, but the missiles themselves have several constant attributes. The larger a missile is, the greater its destructive power, durability, and speed; the more missiles there are in a single compartment, the smaller they will be. All missiles can be set to seek a certain target dictated by the user. Targets can include both specific things, like a person in the user's vision, or something more abstract, like a lost object. Automatic seeking worsens the farther a missile gets from the user, and larger missiles have worse seeking irregardless compared to smaller missiles. However, the user can temporarily override the seeking of small enough missiles as long as she can see them, spurring them in a specific direction[/i] [center][h3]Sunspot[/h3] Location: the Park [@FloodTalon][/center] Jin's comments evoked a dark smile from Pieter. “As insufferable as you are doomed. Enjoy your last laugh.” His whirlwind of leaves homed in on its target, but the assassin made good on his reputation and sped behind cover. The movement of his hands toward his waist before he disappeared clued Pieter in to what he was up to. From the footage he reviewed, he knew where 'Sunspot' kept his guns. At a more leisurely pace, Pieter crouched down and slid back, taking refuge in the thick branches of his tree's crown. Sure enough, two gunshots rang out through the still air. One hit the wood a few feet from his position, and the other punched through the leaf tornado. That shot split apart the leaves it hit, but the tiny gap the bullet made was closed immediately by the countless leaves that remained. By then, the twister smacked into the tree. It hit with very little force, barely enough to strip some bark from the trunk of Jin's cover, and dissipated. The leaves themselves, however, were not done. They embedded themselves into the tree, digging in as though the wood was eating them. Above the assassin, his tree's leaves began to change color. They took on the same colors of fall as those commanded by Pieter, then -all at once- shot downward from their branches. Like a rain of blades they fell toward Jin, flying edge-first at him in a steady barrage.