Hidden 26 days ago Post by Senko ii
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Senko ii GENERAL GENOCIÐE

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Her footsteps were silent.

The jungle is loud with fever. Thumping to a rhythm that could only be perceived as unnatural. She took an inhale, but it too was mystical, it came through the jungle. The oaks of her eyes reflected life and its purity. A vibrant soul that danced through the very essence of this place. Her companions were here - in this decrepit feudal jungle. It was crisp with dew from last night’s rain and the sky, while pure aquarian in form. It was filled with bulging white congregations of raw daint. They wept heavily last night. Now, they shined brightly - conduiting the free sun’s rays. A sight that, if it had not been for so many powerful Ryuusei in one place, all within a mile radius. It was something that would never happen. Never gift those eyes with such a rich empyrean.

Wholly natural, the world’s heartbeat - all of them knew it well.

She just knew it the best.

Senko was five foot eight - even. Her figure was blemish free, no scars. Curved and yet, accented beautifully with athleticism. Her eyes were a vibrant chestnut. Occasionally, flickers of pink flame - nearly translucent opal lightning and waves of honeyed green danced across her irises. She was dressed…. casually. A pair of jean shorts cupped at mid-thigh, high top black and white converse and a black tank top that revealed a matching sports bra underneath. Her right arm and left leg interconnected an eastern dragon that was pure ivory.

The armor she wore came in two forms. Firstly, were her gauntlets. They were obvious, contrasting drastically to her apparel. Crimson in color, fashioned from segmented plates of meta-dense what appeared to be carapace. They were clawed and wielded the kettle with an unnatural grace, the steaming liquid flowing into the floral light. The cup was porcelain with soft, blue leaves dancing at its edges. They possessed the mightiest of blessings from the goddess Amaterasu. The sun’s mystical energy danced through their every sinew. This extended to her, arming its host with a powerful resistance to heat and its magykal variants. Simultaneously, pulsing this force into polymerization with her Chi. It extended the branch of ‘burning’ her life force did.

Their metal hummed with a near-divine durability, yet was light in the hands of the one chosen, carrying a weight fit for a mountain otherwise. Her strikes, especially her punches, became some of the worst instances of kinetic energy to be on the receiving end within her little sector.

The second armor was a translucent field. Dipped in Ether, synthesized through both her soul and the vitality drumming through her veins. Though thin in appearance, three inches from her flesh, it was stalwart. Multi- hexagonal and at several dynami points alight. Currently, it was inactive at its offensive constellations. Not even the wind pierced the uncanny array, nor did temperature. Everything was perfectly regulated within its bosom. The outside world acts as a filtered, unlimited resource. This field of hers, when active, was capable of defending against kinetic, Ethereal and magykal energies. It was innately designed to fend off even the most intimate of threats from the depths of a wizard's mind to the uncontrollable psychic storm within the mutants and monsters she's came across. Projected from her heart beat. It was primarily made up of Chi disguised as electrons and protons formulated perfectly in a meta-charged array.

The Ryuusei were natural-born martial artists, so it should have been no surprise she carried none on her person. Her ancestors, her lineage were her weapons. Shrouding every aspect of her person to her offensive cycles to the defensive ones. Their reinforcement came in the form of passive encouragement, gateguards to her already paramount will. If she was a rose, then they were the thorns. If she was a mighty tortoise, then they were each individual dense shell cells on her back. This blessing descended upon all of her blood, but her connection was the most potent. As the current head of her clan, they took the knee to her sovereign. Dictating a march that ran through the veins of life itself. One that she knew like her favorite song. They cheered her name consistently. Her mother, grandmother and grandmother's voices rang through her soul. Her powers eclipsed with theirs and evolved several times over. Refining the human spirit to something that was impassable, unbreakable and beyond anything the God's had foretold in their murals back in shiroki cave.

Though, in this particular fiction. Senko was a version of herself that was far more intune with the Ryuzhang and basic Chi control. She retained her blessings from Wukong; which refined her durability, agility and enchanted her hair too, to be magyk like her peer. Amaterasu sat within her chant comfortably, instructing - forever teaching as Senko journeyed through this multiversal battleground. She imbued Senko, innately, with many moderate traits that aided both the natural temperature of her Chi and her abilities with it. It also gave her further flat defense against both the arcane and aetheral spectrum of energies. From Longmu, Senko was granted a draconic granted her movements unrivaled fluidity. Which further stacked atop of her already heightened agility. Raijin forged her strength anew and made her hits resemble ferocious storms. And her family’s presence, her company’s presence simply made it impossible to be anything but powerful. It was a pride thing.

She could feel all of them.

But mainly, she could sense Akane and Shin. Their energies flourished wildly, battered against the dam of containment itself. Their scent in her wind. It gave her the utmost joy to be alongside her kin.

The abandoned feudal surrounding of temples was in a loose hexagonal shape. The edges, small - sandy breaches that drop off into a turbulent eternal of waves. There were three paths, roads into highways and in the middle ly a bridge. Those who accompanied her on the mission today were Shin, Totsu, Akane and Yuske.

Totsu and Akane were far east, in the deepest part of the island’s damp jungle. And yet, furthest from the sun - it was the coldest. Always wet. Always cold. There was a twenty feet pond at its center, Senko could sense them somewhere around there. Shin was just fifty feet in front of her. And they were in the centermost path. Where he cooked stew diligently. She could smell it. The small stream’s crystalline water enriched the aroma. Totsu was somewhere in these old buildings or perhaps, somewhere in the surrounding wilderness. He was tricky like that. While Yuske was west, his energy was unmistakable.

They were in positions.

“Don’t get too bored. Mynx said it would only be a few hours…” She com’d through their earpieces.
Hidden 25 days ago Post by REGICIDE
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REGICIDE THE GUARDIAN OF SWORDS.

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Darkness consumed the pathway he sat in, the humid hallways damp with the drip of water from flora that threatened to consume the building. This much he could tell, it wasn't hard for the master of deception to play his innate role. Masking himself, feeling the way the element around him ebbed and flowed - genuflecting to bless him as he masked himself entirely. Swallowed seemingly under shadow and the ambiance, enough to make even the best scouts have the hardest locating him. He hardly came to think that his partners could properly tell his exact location. He was somewhere near Akane, which was enough for them, though he was only a few meters to her right.

Totsuka was an enigmatic man, estranged from the entirety of the forefront of this world's understanding. This wasn't to say that anything he had couldn't be understood; it was hard to predict what the male could do because he was purely instinctual. He sat perfectly still within his perch, hidden within flora and stone walls. Fox-like gaze kept a unique level of watch for opportunity and chance. He was the most exploitative person on the battlefield, which would play into how he played his little lane.

The man wore simple black harem pants, bandages under a stylish turtleneck, and knee-length black and purple haori. Totsuka wore black tabi on his feet while bandages lined his features, clearly from his torso upwards and around his mouth. Ivory hair was held into two buns, messily strewn about as if hastily done. At the same time, he rotated stones between his right hand, one that carried the mirrored form of han kote on his forearm and knuckles. Lastly, the thing that could visibly be seen was his katana, which housed the chaos sprite within on his left hip.

He honestly didn't mind being here aside from the humidity and heat. It was an excellent time to be here with companions he hadn't seen in a long time. He was lost in thought of what they would do after this mission, as he had no doubt that their victory over whoever popped up would be swift. That's when he heard Senko speak, offering a playful, "Aye, Aye, Oyabun." Now, he was focused. Entirely so, as he kept his k.i hidden. A problem with his specific race of beings but absolved by their training.

Man, oh man, he was hungry.
Hidden 22 days ago Post by SHADOW BANE
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SHADOW BANE THE DEVIL FIST

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She inhaled, and through her exhale did her frosted breath further crystallize the open air around her. Upon the center of a freezing pond Akane Ryuusei danced in meditation. A practice she learned in her journey to adulthood. A tribal dance of war that displayed many different martial arts stances. Eyes shut imprisoning golden irises not needed for their purpose. Her chi muddied her vicinity. By nature did its netheric touch bring disturbance to the natural order in a way that could easily be confused as natural effects. Beauty in the beast. Aether was its foundation through the might of her will. Her ancestors watched out in pride. Akane had come to a point in her journey throughout the cosmos where she truly understood her place. She was the sister to the greatest martial artist within their bloodline since their mother. By birthright was the title for the head of the family given, but that didn’t mean where she stood was any less important.

She listened to them all now.

The Devil Fist. A moniker that was passed down to her from her uncle. The nefarious style that brought fear to the hearts of her kin. Truly did she master its arts. A tranquil fury that brought devastating wraith to her hands. She danced to the beat her people drummed for them. It was rare to find them all in one place these days. Weightlessness was on full display as she slipped her bare sole across freezing waves. Fragile to the touch, a mere pebble could shatter its surface into being submerged.

Shinobi style pants hung tight to her ankles. A feather pendant ankle bracelet glistened in the light. A magical item that hid its true identity. Her torso was covered in pristine wrapped bandages that covered the entirety of her upper half to the neck. A mundane looking rope dart tied around her waist. Safe for the black crystal tip that reflected dying photons. She bore no chest plate. Only dark steel plated gauntlets. A pair of gauntlets fashioned in black metal brimming with an affinity for endurance. Blessed by the titan of strength, Kratos. They held the ability of hyper kinetic repulsion. Causing her strikes to be stacked in explosive layers of kinetic synergy. Running down to the tips of her fingers, and spiked at the knuckles. A simple design that sacrificed aesthetics for might.

Along with its offensive capabilities they held the ability to scatter kinetic impacts across medium vectors. Whilst filling its molecular structure with hyper vibrations that results in atomic “flooding” of the metal hardening it into a supernatural phenomena. An ability to drown out the force of anything from blades, to heavy rifle bullets with relative ease. The tips of her fingers were clawed, with a spike flowing out from the elbows making elbow strikes deadly. By their blessing did they passively enhance her already frightening strength.

Around her neck was that of her uncle’s tainted teardrop black diamond necklace. It was the physical and spiritual manifestation of what it meant to hold the title she now held. Pain. Sacrifice. Acknowledgment. The shadow to the sun’s light. The dark side of the moon. It was her key to the whispers that slid unheard within their chant. Venom that held high prices for those who tested their family product. Her right foot slid across the surface of the waves. Her right arm matched it in what resulted in a final stance before her body carried itself into a bow. Her crimson locks falling down her right shoulder in a perfectly woven single braid. A performance for her ancestors, and a warning to her foes.

She felt the presence of her kin, especially Senko. A beacon for her people. The horn had yet to be blown, and her mission partner was within her shadow. The damp jungle that surrounded the pond housed a plethora of abandoned sheds and outposts. Plus wet trees with mossy waters visually pretending to be grass. It was very much like her sister to say such childish things in a situation like this. It made her smile as her head bowed to her people. Akane would follow her into any battle, and it was crazy how much of an impact her elder sister had on her own personality. Returning her a reply through their connection.


“As long as Shin makes me a plate, this trip is bound to be worth it.”

Hidden 22 days ago Post by Turtle Style
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Turtle Style

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He could not help it as his excitement flared on a battlefield that none could stand with him on. He disliked it. The knife bestowed upon him by his teacher was used to carefully slice up vegetables to transfer them to a pot that already had the pork belly inside. Placing the lid on top while resting the knife back into the sheath after a proper cleaning. Just an hour. That would be how long it would take for the pork to be soft enough to melt in the mouth. At the heat of the open flame, it would be easy enough, but then he'd have to fix up some rice as well to go as a nice side dish. “I'll worry about sides later,” Shin sighed while standing up and stretching his arms out behind his torso. He could feel tense muscles growing ever so slightly as he stretched in preparation for the scuffle. Despite his reputation as a chef, he was as well known for his cooking skills as his fighting skills.

It was something that he could not help but learn. Bouncing on the balls of his feet with the utmost silence. Those tailor-made tai chi slippers offered amazing grip as the voice of his mother echoed within his cranium. How long has it been since so many of them joined together? The only time he could remember was that joint training exercise that ended in a rather eventful moment. Who could have guessed that a pebble could end someone's life on a flight of stairs? Regardless, it did not matter. He had both his mother and aunt in his corner, but also those two who might as well be distant cousins. The amount of confidence that Shin felt in his bosom made him feel as if he had achieved enlightenment. Maybe that was why he was currently staring forward, in the direction where the supposed invasion was to come from.

His bouncing came to a halt as he cast his gaze down to his waistline, taking in the ten Heavy Bone that resided within holsters—five on his left and five on his right—snug in the belt that held tan martial arts slacks. These kunai were useful and a gift from his uncle—with this being their debut since he was bestowed the items. While returning his gaze forward he shook his arms ever so slightly and caused those silver bracelets to bounce with the motion. The green turtle ran up his right forearm ever so slightly due to the bracelet bounce, whilst the blue turtle barely got any height. But these bracelets, like everything else, were gifts that he could not help but take pride in. His family, no matter how they sliced it, would always be there at his side. Both physically and spiritually. It was only when he heard his aunt did Shin stopped his pre-fight check-in.

“No worries, I got more than enough pork belly for everyone. Just have to make sure no one eats it in the middle of this whole thing.” It would not be too much of a shock. The scent coming from it easily rode the currents of the wind. Already catching Shin in the sweet flavor that had his mouth-watering. Maybe he should have made some buns for this one. He thought to himself, bringing his left hand towards his lips for his index finger to lightly tap his lip. He also hoped that Totsu and Yuske had a taste for Chinese—and not that Americanized crap!
Hidden 18 days ago Post by Kazkush
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Kazkush

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Why… Why do these realms tend to just offer up nothing but disappointment after disappointment? A question that never tended to have a solid answer, the newer gen of warriors tend to just amount to nothing more than experience points for this game we call life. A question that never fails to get pondered on, for a question like this? There was only one place to go, and it wasn’t so much that he wanted to go here, but the “Stars Aligned” and his destiny was already written. Senko had saw something in him, for was it his power or his attitude? Another question that failed to have answer, but what was given was a role to play in not just Vehemente but upon the greater universe. For what his father offered to the Stars is what Senko offered to her family and organization. Order. It was why he was here, worlds between his homeland but he still felt familiarity to the environment, the sentient life vibrated towards him and it was as if he one with it. His movements concealed , he was but a ghost pon nearly all radars, and he moved like one.

A commander within Vehemente, but for this mission it was simple to execute. He understood the assignment as he fully geared upon in his attire that resembled his lineage and loyalty to the Scarlet Moon Empire. His was fitted for the Crimson Knights, the elite of the kingdom. Such holds a blend of masterful craftsmanship and elegant design along with an infusion of Solizur. The armor is forged from a rare celestial alloy known as Sanguine Starsteel, and such is infused with the essence of the celestial trees of beginning, granting it a near indomitable resilience and a deep crimson hue that shimmers with celestial energy. The armor consists of perfectly designed plate mail, adorned with engravings depicting moons, stars, and symbols of the empire's rich history. The chest plate is emblazoned with the emblem of the Scarlet Moon, signifying the unity and strength of the empire. Such armor has sleek and slim form as it allows for ease of movement without compromising protection, enabling Yuske to swiftly navigate any battlefield.

Their helmets are sleek, yet formidable, featuring intricate designs that incorporate celestial motifs, with a visor that can be retracted. Such visor aids with blocking out toxins. Embedded within the helmets are specialized visors displaying an HUD, enhancing the knights' situational awareness during combat. His arms were coated in the similar material crafting the Luminous Gauntlets. These intricately designed gauntlets are etched with runes and feature a a built-in energy reservoir. On his back attached to the armor were his Aegis Cloaks. These lightweight yet resilient cloaks are woven from a unique blend of Sanguine Starsteel fibers and celestial silk. On his back was the stellar bow and his dawnshield was hinted with a baby blue runes on the back of his right hand. He was adorned with runes and celestial tablets that hinted at his metaphysical powers.

He arrived around the same time as his captain and leader Senko far west concealed neath the planetary ambiance of natural energies though he felt his companions, he remembered them all from the summit. He was on the second floor looking out the weapon where he held a full view of the environment, the jungle was wide but yet another playground for him personally. He reported to Senko and his companions “ Ima need a plate after this Shin”
Hidden 14 days ago Post by Lith
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Lith Judgement

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[ .. EVERY DAY IS A NEW SORTIE ]

Another mission.

This time, it was to kill five "metahumans." An odd term employed by H.Q., implied to mean they weren't explicitly spell-casters or wizards, though he would assume they still had scrolls of some kind. Nevertheless, all current weapon systems had the green light, suggesting a relative category of power amongst the impending victims to that of a higher tier sorcerer. That is to say they weren't akin to a street magician, but less dissimilar to a city vanishing warlock of some sort. Troubling.

More troubling is Hayden Armstrong had not one or two but four allies in this mission. Friendlies that he was not permitted to terminate and bring the corpses back for examination until after the main objective was complete. Highly unusual. They weren't even affiliated with headquarters, but were outside contractors of some type. This meant each and every one of them were disclosure risks, and would typically require their termination by default after screening for volunteer status. Still, adaptability was part of the mission structure after all; Hayden had to come to terms with the facts not his preconceived notions. Five wizard-analogous hostiles, four witch-typical allies. Parameters were on lock.

wrrn WRRN WRRN rapidly emitted the rhythmic mechanized gears & gyros of a nightmarish robotic approximation of human form as it stepped across jungle brush. Lithe and smooth, it was a red machine standing at a mere 6'6", with enough weight to crush vegetation. There were many trees here; Brazil nut trees, rubber trees? Data was inconclusive. A six foot long "blade" composed of some red moving *matter* emitted from a handle base locked to the machine's right hand. There was no subtlety at play here, the code named Knight Model had been deployed for this mission. The cyborg within began to eloquently compute with his machine's Intel Core i27-39000J CPU optimized for gaming:

Mission re-analysis. Based on the probability of mage-like victims coupled with the surroundings, it should be assumed they intend to abuse the foliage for obscuring movements and launching attacks. Possibly able to manipulate the plant life into treants. Likely scrying on our location. Further noted there is no line of communication short of verbal within proximity of allied entities, while the opposition are likely utilizing speech magic. Database shows wizard spell [Message] exists, which will likely be employed before and during the spellcasters' ritualistic blood orgies for sating their deities in order to gain further magics. The scent of roasting meat can be detected on external sensors now, and is likely human in nature. Thus interrupting this ritual is advised.

However. Location and enemy means of information gathering are both well within expectations, and will be neutralized. Estimated chance of decapitation of hostile entities in face of Wizard Spell "Meteor Swarm" is 98%. "Time Stop" is dicier, but based on simulations sits at a respectable 52%.


Rather than trying to run the outside of the area, Hayden was definitely walking down the "center" of the region. There was precious little being done to obscure his presence, to the point one would have to assume he was making his presence well known intentionally. Despite medication to suppress the emotional inflections of volunteers, Hayden couldn't help but feel some of the adrenaline and regal nature of the swordsman whom his current movements were mapped around. Unnatural sword raised ahead of his helmet, left mechanized arm tucked behind his back; a pompous and refined posture for a machine that relentlessly crushed insects and split mud as it consistently moved ahead at an intentional pace.

Wizards were like pack animals. They wouldn't forgive his intrusion into their, he assumed, sex and feed den for very long and would also attempt the most cowardly assaults from as much reach as afforded to them and in highest number, giving them maximized safety. Thus, every passing second was like waving the red capote in front of the bull, or staring down an enemy gunman with finger on the trigger waiting for the signal; statistical noise that would suddenly solidify into destiny, stuffed to the brim with promises of peril .. and potential reward.

That burning question he the volunteer had subconsciously imprinted, then: would it be the red knight that drew blood this day, or the gold?
Hidden 11 days ago Post by L0nginus
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L0nginus Drachentötter

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The jungle leaps with wicked heat and humidity— with the flickering shadows of predators. Even amongst the stench of muck and feral beasts, what cut through the rich stench of the tropics was the smell of fear. The din of Hayden's march through the decrepit earth was the first sign of danger that the jungle beasts knew to avoid the area; the big, red, metallic man stomping through the lush green like a bulldozer with the grace of a dancer. The other was the shadowless gait of another hunter. One less obvious than the first, but he— it— left behind the smell of burning wherever it passed. The song of exotic birds died in their throats, replaced with only the frantic flap of wings as they escaped from the burning smell of death's approach.

>Wake up, Reyes.

Jackson's eyes snapped wide to reveal burgundy embers, echoing with some semblance of the man lying just beneath the veneer of what the Blacklight Project wanted him to be. A killing machine, devoid of humanity— of the human spirit upon which raised itself up upon the throne of the soul. It took him the fraction of a second to assess his situation subconsciously, glancing around to see Hayden on his left-hand side, 60 feet away/20ft behind his flank and soaking up the focus. It was something oppurtune for him, who remained squarely indistinct from the biome, and found all supernally related aspects of himself hidden from prying eyes. His psychically imprinted instructions rang inside of his skull, giving a brief pause as he put his boot to an old stump.

>Mission parameters: Kill or capture priority target 56X intact. The rest are to be disposed of. You are clear for Azimuth level force.

Jackson blinked once as the subliminals rose to his mind's forefront, leaving him to take brief inventory. His tac-gear was equipped, and his hands had already subconsciously taken hold of his custom-made pistol, and the meteoric iron of the straight-edged combat knife. His left hand held the knife, and his right, the pistol; his right hand crossing over his left wrist as he ducked below the brush-line. Jackson observed the situation ahead as the woman came to the forefront, and their mechanized pilot came to meet them. For now, he observed, feeling the weight of his additional magazines on the specialized armored holsters on the left side of his midsection and was mindful of his suicide drugs all the while.
Hidden 7 days ago Post by LeeRoy
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LeeRoy LeeRoy Brightmane

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A small boat arrives traveling from the east, coming to a stop at the western edge of the riverbank. It runs into the silt and slides to a slow creeping halt, and its sole occupant steps out. He was a large man, wide in the shoulders, standing few inches taller than the average man. His body was rippling with naked primeval force, and his strength and dexterity was clearly visible on his body. When his foot made contact with the river bank, his toes sank into it as he made no sound. Even his breath was hushed by breathing long and slow through his large nostrils.

The Killing King, Mosi Musesma, was needed for his unique talents. He had been summoned by a strange glowing tablet whose words could be slid up and down its smooth black glassy surface. The words meant very little to him, he did not care about the why, or the who. He was a prophet of death, and when death called, he answered. It was meant to be that is all that matters.

The two allies who had already arrived, were mechanical men. They were positioned further ahead, and he was by the river outlet presently. He reached into the boat, pulling his five spears out, he looped them into the leather thong that was at the small of his back. Keeping one in his hand, which his fingers squeezed gently. The feel of the wood grain against his palm was pleasant, these were freshly made spears. They felt young and new, they had not tasted blood yet.

He stepped away from the boat, and moved towards the brush, his body bent, his knees pulled him low to the ground. The deep bronze of his skin becoming of one tone with the natural tones of the forest as he slid into the tall foliage. The scent of cooking came from the Northwest, brushing his nostrils as he sniffed the wind. He could smell the individual ingredients, the chef was not to his standard. This was an unfair assessment, as he was once a king, but it was an honest one.
Hidden 6 days ago Post by Doc Doctor
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Doc Doctor The Fight Doctor

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Surfing atop a matte black Dodge Magnum a fair distance behind Hayden, the suspension raised such that it could easily traverse the jungle floor, balanced that grease stain of a scoundrel, that slinking death’s shadow, ‘First-Degree’ Donny. Like a back alley goon from the 30’s, his trench coat, dress shoes, black gloves, fedora were all pitch black, in contrast to his pale, freckled corpse-like face and sunken green eyes. Ginger hair curled up beneath his hat like licks of autumn fire, hued the same as the feather mustache decking his upper lip. Slung over his back was a Tavor X95 bullpup and cradled in his arms was a rifle the size of a German shepherd.
Glancing at the barely lit iPhone strapped to his left bicep, he saw through his vehicle’s live thermal vision a distant spark of heat, a cooking fire, and through the flickering trunks of trees the small burning blips of a few unsheltered enemies.

Spotting an appropriately sized tree, he heaved his 85 pound .950 JDJ hunting rifle overhead and hooked it on a thick bough. As the car sped out from beneath him and into the jungle, he swung himself up with his forward momentum and smoothly transitioned to prone position with the barrel of the rifle cradled in the forked end of the bough, never taking his attention off what lay at the fore throughout this maneuver. As an ex-Green Beret used to carrying heavy packs over long distances, a mere 85 pound load was but a trifle. For the finishing touch he had cast a handkerchief over the scope earlier. The handkerchief itself had been smothered in dirt and stretched out so the mesh weave was wide enough to permit him clear visibility through the scope, but would prevent any glare from the lens giving him away at range.

Uncannily, the hitman had no ki, no numen, not even a soul to detect. He was but a mortal man, though how easy it is to forget what man really is. The culmination of billions of years of natural selection, the greatest living byproduct of the slaughter of the ages. In particular Donny’s mind was honed to an obsidian edge and not an ounce of pity graced his coal black heart, less so an idealistic being, moreso a machine of flesh and blood, purposed only to efficiently murder every opposing lifeform in this jungle and shovel them into candy-colored coffins for a paycheck.

By this point he was approximately 400 yards from where Shin was preparing a meal, and about 275 yards from Akane and Totsu, his position directly East of the small lake where they goofed about. About 150 yards frontwards Hayden marched, and through his scope Donny could also survey Akane, Shin, and Senko’s positions all at once. Through the screen of his iPhone he’d be able to ascertain Reyes’ and Danger’s progress as well, as he subtly directed the remote control armored car through the foliage towards the Northwest to see if he could swiftly arrange it about a hundred meters Northeast of Shin and Senko. The engine was electric, so the only noise the vehicle made emanated from the bulletproof wheels as they glided over shrubbery and bramble. In the backseat rolled a solitary grenade canister.

As the hitman studied his prey, specialized earbuds in either ear picked up muted words from ahead, but as far as he could tell they didn’t come from Akane. “Aye, aye, oyabun.” Given Totsuka was a mere several feet from Akane who danced at the center of the lake, yet he was still sheltered by walls, there must’ve been a small patch of ruins in the ice and Donny came to the immediate conclusion there was another target within them.
A wry smirk tugged at the corners of his pooched lips, his gaze the stoned veneer of a professional going through the motions. He saw only bodies still living and the alien shapes that encompassed them, strange in their temporality. Vines and trees, ruins and rocks... Before the dread oblivion that veiled reality, surrounded it as a sea of midnight, the only emotion the hitman felt was the usual dull anticipation of seeing the entrails expelled from his bipedal quarry as bullets tore them asunder, and laid them open to the warmth of the rising sun.
Hidden 3 days ago Post by BangoSkank
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BangoSkank Halfway Intriguing Halfling

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The message had come through his DynaTech v17 Pager. A simple message, as it had to be. It was just a fancy alternate future pager. He was to bisect the tempoverse he had been bumming about in at the ZK Axis at 2763 hours precisely and then recursively corpusclate counterspacewise until he reached well...here. And so here he was. Somewhere. Set to kill a few weirdos and then probably get a really cool reward. That probably should have been hashed out with whoever sent him that message, but he had just jumped at the chance to womp some randoms. Ah well. Next time.

The vantablack semipermeable membrane of spacetime folded into itself behind him, once he had sufficiently cleared the event horizon. Without delay Dangerrutito Fontainuixic got his Hexx Texx-Goggs both Hexxing and Texxing. Picking up life forms to the South and South West. Weebs it would seem. It was always weebs.

"Breaker Breaker One Niner I got like four bogies. All weebs. I repeat all weebs. Come in you guys. My call sign is Omnissiah. Over and out."

It was a reference to a guy from Warhammer. Which is a thing for nerds. But not weeb nerds, normal nerds, which are marginally less nerdy. But it was kind of a fitting reference. Omnissiah. That dude was like a magic technology dude. The rest of the squad would be able to hear his equally informative and nonsensical ramblings thanks to a particularly potent combination of "magic" and Future Russian technology. Called it a Thaumic VocoRecordoer, patent pending. The neat thing is worked both ways. Again magictech. Very technical, very magical.

Situation at hand. Temple thing. Lake dealie. Paths. Trees. Weebish Target rich environment He had seen this before. It was like a Dungeons and Dragons encounter. But with robots and weebs. Therefore it was superior to Dungeons and Dragons. He liked it.

A dumbshit grin spread fully across his dumbshit face in a split second. This was going to be fun.

Hexx-Texx Goggs self modulating their Muon Capacity and scanning through several different viewmodals to best optometrize the battlefields. Thaumic VocoRecordoer thaumically vocorecordoering for them all. Aromatic Polyamide Weave suit weaving all his polyamides very aromatically. Also it was hugging his every curve and crevice like a jilted lover finally reunited with her Romeo but for one night only and then never again until the next time her Romeo gets stood up.

In addition to that, the almost pornographic tightness of the suit I mean, it was adapting to Dangerrutito's environment to help him remain undetected. Not via some sort of Adaptive Camouflage system, although it probably maybe could do that too, but because it was tied in through some mysterious means (quite possibly Dangerrutito's ass) to his mind. Responding to his desire to be just stealthy as fuck. All kinds of sneaky.

Likewise the soul of his banished bastard boy B-Rad responded to the hum of blood and adrenaline through Dangerrutito's body. It couldn't respond much, being just a soul and a soul trapped in a sword at that, but that sword, Trilobieskni by name. Yes, yes that Trilobieskni, the very same. The Blade of Legend. The Sword of Myth. The Katana of Dread. The Loosener of Shackles. The Remover of Bras. The Sabre of the Downtrodden. The Zweihander of the Einhanded. Fucking Cool Sword Bro. That sword. It hummed, metaphorically, very much eager to be let loose upon a weeb or two. Also to get a body again instead of being trapped in a sword.

In summation, as Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic methodically moved through the brush and whispered his sightings to the others, through his Thaumic VocoRecordoer, he was ready. Very ready. To Rumble.

So ready was he, in fact, that he decided he ought to provide his battle brothers, or whatever, with a rousing vocal performance. Whispered of course, Thaumically, via his VocoRecordoer, into each of their brains or ears or some shit. Dangerrutito wasn't super clear on the details of magitech. What he was clear on was the general tune of "Where Did Our Love Go" by The Supremes. Released in 1964. Diana Ross and the Funk Brothers. Dangerrutito was pretty sure Smokey Robinson produced.

A very fitting soundtrack for the lovefest that was about to kick off.


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