Enkryption

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Marshall paled, as he stared at Sohlt; his mind launched back into darkness. He was thrown, mentally, back, 1,904 years... back to her...

---

Marshall screamed, as the Touch of Virtue wound around his hand, crept up his arm, and charred his flesh as it was designed to kill those like him. Its light burn him, tried to purify him, and yet, could only sear it. Above him, she roared in triumph and delight; a woman of light and a beast of primal forces. Her figure that of a creature of darkness: a beautiful Drider with hair, silken and gold, that fell upon porcelain skin, shoulders fair, breasts full, arms svelte, and a stomach taut as her hips gave way to the hind and many legs of a spider.

The Lady of Virtue, the White Widow of Light, laughed at him. She looked down at him, and laughed, and laughed, without a single care to his misery. He was her slave and servant, her instrument, and her source of amusement. Marshall dragged himself off the ground, and he ran -- he ran from her laughter, her presence, and her light, as his arm burned and bleed.

“Bring seven hearts steeped in sin, one for each, and, with them, atone for the sins you hold yourself. Until that day, wander, forever alive until the True Light fades, unable to die, but able to suffer all pain and loss.” Her bargain, no, her order, rang true in his mind. He pushed himself up from every stumble, and rushed himself to Yoltaire.

Back to her.

- - -

“You -- You -- You freak!” screamed the love of his life, as she held her bleeding face. Marshall recoiled, his charred hand clenched tightly to his rope-bound form. “I didn’t -- I didn’t think -- I just wanted to --” he stammered, as he felt a blade thrust through his chest; blood spattering the floor. “I can fix it!” he gagged, as another rammed through him. “Just give me a chance!”

“You ignorant child!” raged the Grandmaster, as he violently stabbed at Marshall’s undying form, “My daughter is scarred forever! Did you not think this would happen, as your own body burns!?” Marshall gagged, losing more and more blood by the second. “I’ll see your head on my wall, you freak!” he snapped, biting his dagger right into Marshall’s neck.

And, it happened.

---

“I... am... not... a freak!” Marshall roared, lunging at Sohlt, and grabbing him. “Don’t call me a freak!” he screamed, as he took Sohlt by the face, and smashed his head into the ground. “Don’t you dare! I’m not a freak!” Again, again, and again; uncaring for the crack of bone and splatter of flesh, brain, and blood. “I’ll show you who’s the freak!” he raged, switching his method to punching Sohlt’s face in. “Suffer! Suffer, you freak!”

Suddenly, his anger was extinguished -- not by self-control, honed over the years, but a force of fury that dwarfed his own by aeons. “It’s loose,” he says, “Shit...” Marshall gathered himself, and looked to the unstable of the two scientist; the other mostly paste on the floor from the head up. “Consider this... a mercy,” he says, scooping up a handful of blood, before pointing a finger at him, and shooting him squarely in the forehead.

“No-one without the will to defy the Primals themselves is going to survive this,” he told himself, since his audience was dead. “Well, time to find my knife,” he says, before smirking, “A Primal won’t skin itself, after all.”

---

@The Irish Tree

Fate/Kaleid Prisma Connections

END OF SIMPLE SCHOOL DAYS ARC: COMPLETE

Enkryption

---

End of Simple School Days, Part I

---

[He's near.]

‘Are you sure, honey?’ queried a fatigued woman, rubbing her chilled arms. 'We’ve been looking all week, and he keeps slipping away,’ she says, with a rather adorable pout, 'We need to be sure.’ A grimace crossed her thoughts, and she frowned in tune. [I am sure. I can feel him. Odysseus.] snarled her magical tenant. 'Very well, honey. I trust you,’ says the woman, as she raised a card that was of a subdued gold, and bore the image of a charioteer. 'Let’s run wild, honey! Let's show them we are the swiftest of foot!’

Settling the card before her stomach, just above the core of her pelvis, she crushed it. Magic burst free of it, and she was wrapped in the armor of a true Locrian warrior, holding a hoplite spear at her side, and a aspis upon her back, baring the design of a large wave crashing upon a cliffside. Narrowing her crystal-blue eyes from behind her helm, she hefted the shield, and set it before her.

“I am the swift wind. I am the forceful sea. I am the fated tidal wave, crest upon you,” she chanted, shifting a foot back, “and crashing you upon my rocks.”

In a second, she became a blur; a streak of color, exceeded by a crash of sonic sound waves. In a moment, she became a force of nature, a wave of water, given human form, and driven by gale force winds. In less than a minute, she made impact...

...against the King, Xerxes, whom, once in full control of the situation, found his grip on it all... LOST.

As violent as storm, the shield made full-body contact with the Persian, and shattered every bone across the impact zone, as it released an explosive burst of liquid, and tossed him across the room. The shield created a small pool of sea-scented water -- remnants of what engulfed the king -- and Xerxes slammed into the bleachers.

However, he didn't crash and crater, but bounded off them, as the impact zone and all that the water touching it suddenly turned into jagged stone. In an instant, King Xerxes, once proud and powerful, was made a pincushion by rocks fashioned into spears by nature.

[...you missed.]

“Nnn!!!” whined the sudden attacker, stamping her feet like a child. “I was going really fast, though!” Crossing her arm, she puffed her cheeks, and pouted. [There. There. A minor adjustment is all that's needed. He is standing there. Odysseus.] The woman looked where directly, and jabbed an accusatory finger at Hal. “YOU!” she boomed, “I'll make you pay for what you did to my honey, Odysseus!” she shifted her stance, and raised her shield. “I am the swift wind. I am the forceful sea. I am the fated tidal wave, crest upon you,” she took aim, “and crashing you upon my rocks.”

[Take this, Odysseus!!!]

---

As a blur passed him, Virgil barely minded it. Hanzo’s senses were his own, so he could see the blur for what it was: a woman in armor that should have prevented such intense forward motion. Rolling his eyes, he sighed with the dismissal of following her targeted path. ‘Another Servant. Another Master. Another problematic woman to deal with in the future,’ he thought, idly, as he somersaulted through the air; landing on his hands, and bending his legs at his knees. A large swing on bone and fury swept over the sandal-clad heels of his feet, and he snapped them up. ‘Right now, I have my own problems to attend to.’

Virgil curled into a ball, rolling right, and by Maggie; the redhead stumbling to recover from the kick against the underside of her jawbone club. He pushed off the ground, as she threw her arm backwards, wildly, but aimed, in a savage sense, and slammed the bone into the ground; taking a crater out of the earth. ‘How am I going to calm her? A Berserker lives and breaths combat. Surely, if I knew her True Name, I could force her out of her Install, however--’ Virgil was abruptly paused in his thoughts, as Maggie lunged at him; the bone crossing under his nose, as he turned his head sharply to dodge its brutal existence.

His button nose upturned from the sour stench of elephantine blood and flesh, the putrid sense forcing a grimace upon his thin, pouty lips. ‘If I drag this out, then she just might become a True Beast, like the Gods you speak of, Hanzo-chan...’ Virgil mused, absently calling his Servant by such an informal address, ‘That might be amusing, on its own merit,however--’ Virgil was sharply cut off his own thoughts, as he mistepped, and mistimed -- too busy thinking, too busy outlasting -- and mistook a feint for reality.

Maggie grinned, as she raised her freshly bloodied club to her lips. “Not so squirrely, now,” she says, her blind rage mostly subsided by this small victory; sated battlelust restoring lucidity. Virgil raised a trembling hand to his perfect, porcelain cheek, and drew it back; from a deep gash crimson was drawn, and stained gloved fingers. “You cut me...” he says, almost a perfect recreation of their first encounter. For one moment, his effeminate beauty withered and rotted into a masculine rage, before he straightened his expression into something simple and cold. “I’m going to kill you.”

Maggie didn’t have a moment to think, but react, as a deep-seated font of mana exploded around them. It’s brilliance was blinding, in its own way; unmatched anger, masked as calmness. Before the lights vanish, she saw Virgil fling his holstered spear into the air. Battle-hunger return her lucidity, allowing her to she look up, and realize that the spear hadn’t been a mere weapon, but a catalyst, as it slipped into the atmosphere, and hundreds of spears blocked out the very sun, itself. “A shadow swoops low; Shifts silent among the reeds; A crane strikes unseen...” Virgil said, calmly, collected... before, he, too, became a shadow.

Rainfall of spears littered all that Virgil considered his battlefield, as the Bounded Field ate the school, the yard, and the road; spears burying into the earth, concrete, asphalt, bricks, and cars, alike. It was only when a stab against her unbreakable skin aimed against her liver registered in her brain, that Maggie realized, there was no escaping the network built. Virgil stood on his right hand and foot; left foot extended, toes curled around the haft of the spear that struck her... before he disappeared again.

“I will break you. I will kill you. I will...” Virgil promised, anger swallowing him, as it had her, mere minutes past. Maggie grinned, through the pain, however. This is what she wanted. A death fight. In that gym, Flamma had abandoned her, but, now... now, she could try again. Prove herself stronger than anyone... than everyone. Hefting her jawbone club, she began to crush spears, left and right, creating pockets, paths -- zones of even ground, if only temporary -- and dug in deep.

Too deep.

Nine spears sank in, digging into her flesh, seeking passage to nine vital points... only being rewarded with causing pain unparalleled. Her knees gave out, cave in -- not from the pain, but thee real Virgil kicking them out, and pressing his tanto into her crown, as his shadow clones dug their spears in. “Uninstall! Uninstall, so I can end you! You beast!” he snarled, nearly screaming in manic rage...a rage that Magge knew well, and lived in. She chuckled, and started to laugh boisterously, before she stopped, and Virgil’s world turned upside-down.

It was at her knees she landed, at her mercy he lie, and at her whim he existed. Tables turned in a moment. “Heh~! Where’s all that bluster at, now,” she asks, raising her fist.

In an instant, Virgil remembered: Assassin was the weakest Class, Berserker was the strongest Class, and two plus two still equaled four...

“My turn to hurt you...” Maggie says, her hair falling over her face, “Maybe even kill you.”

Virgil looked up, and smirked; tanto too far to get, mana to low to vanish, but... he fancied himself a girl, and all girl fights ended up one way. “Let’s be real,” he says, before pulling her hair.

Maggie gasped, shocked to such an extent, that she forgot that she was infinitely strong, functionally immortal, and could crush Virgil’s skull with her pinkies... and just reached down to yanked his long, feathered hair back.

Now, it was just a superpowered catfight.

Suku

---

End of Simple School Days, Part II

---

AJAX THE GREAT

“I won't let it happen! Soteria help me guard those who must be protected! RHO AIAS Shield of the Unfallen!” Ajax yelled as he hefted his shield in front of him. His shield glowed as the shield that which stopped the might of Hector’s spear met face with an unending charge. One side was bound to lose and in the end the charge was taken head on as Ajax was pushed back something that was both new and yet familiar he thought as he was kept being pushed away without stop. Though the farther away they were pushed the more and more he grew frustrated He was Ajax the Greater, he would not be beaten like this! Rage fueling his body he tightened his stance and with his second arm braced his shield more before parrying the attacker away. “I know not why you do this but note I wont allow a ally to fall on my watch! My comrades depend on me to be their shield and so I stand let note those who would seek harm upon them come and face me if you wish but know many a spear was broken on my shield! The Shield of Ajax the Great!” He boasted as he stood tall and proud his spear materialized in his hand as he banged it against his shield in a taunt. Ever the boastful person Ajax was known for his pride and and his bullheadedness in battle both showing clearly in his taunt. Despite this he was worried something about the attacker felt familiar and he greatly hoped in the end he was wrong.

Tsukiya

Tsukiya came to as being knocked into the bleachers by a mad woman was certainly a experience one she wished not to discover again. Try as she might though Astolfo wasn’t responding leaving her once more alone in the face of danger. “Fear is something that you must learn to overcome a true warrior understands their fear and faces it head on.”

“I-I know but.”

“But…?” Brynhildr questioned, seeming almost confused at her hesitation.

“Fear is something that can’t be overcome but I know I need to fight.”

“Then, what will you do? If fear cannot be overcome, then will you simply find a way around that fear?”

“I know I haven’t been brave in fact I'm a coward I will admit that fact but.. But I need to fight now.”

“Mm. Many people never face true conflict their whole lives. While there are infinite ways to live one’s life, from all the warriors I have received into Valhalla, I cannot say for certain that any of them lived ‘correctly’. As such, my master...I ask of you.” Brynhildr said, before Tsukiya would almost feel a hand on her shoulder. “Is this how you want to continue to live?”

“No I can’t say it is I want to stand and fight but I lack the power..... I have ignored and scorned you will you stand by me today?”

Though she wasn’t visible to Tsukiya, the air seemed to lighten as Brynhildr moved her mouth to speak, the faintest tug at her lips. “Of course. My Master. Your will is your own, and I will follow it. Come.”

Tsukiya new found confidence and a strength to rely on emerged but due to the length of the internal conversation left her alone with no one to fight. “Well…. I guess this means we win or lose?” She said unsure as she tried to heft the large lance of Brynhildr. “A fight that isn't fought is often considered dishonor and can lose many a warrior prestige in Valhalla but in this case even I am unsure.” Brynhildr replied “Though Sigurd always was wise and fought battles that were needed and if possible talked to others to avoid one so a battle loss is not a gain nor a loss I suppose.” She continued her voice tinged with uncertainty but longing as well as she reminisced.

The Irish Tree

---

End of Simple School Days, Part III

---

Casually strolling away, Flamma felt a massive breeze pass by him, an unimaginably fast blur zooming past his vision and nearly colliding with him. Looking relatively unimpressed, he scratched the back of his neck. "...The hell was that?" he commented, picking up his pace a bit. Not like it mattered. Someone so good at running wasn't worth fighting anyways.

Pain racked Xerxes' body as he was struck in the shoulders, flesh giving way to steel, and bones too following. Then, his side was impaled, leaving the Persian king with little more to do than to groan in pain, weakly grasping his axe. Before he could even speak, and as his Athanaton 10,000 started closing in, all at once reality became a myriad blur of pain, steel, rock, water, and flesh shattering against all of them. Impaled through his chest, right arm, and both his legs, Xerxes was left a pathetic husk of the "glorious" king who had stood before the Class Card Holders before, struggling to just...exist as his lungs filled with blood.

"Not...guh...not yet..." he protested, as his body seemed to give into the pain and injury that befell it. From the wounds in his body, a pale, golden light emerged and slowly drifted upwards as tiny specks and particles. It would be a rather beautiful sight to behold, if not for the blood that followed that quickly turned a murky dark brown, and, as the light fully faded from his wounds, Xerxes wretched and writhed in agony. His skin seemed to start losing consistency, turning a brownish-purple as his form lost cohesion. It was as if his own flesh was melting off the bone; anything that had at one time been pleasing to look at now resembling mixed and melted putty

"More...more...my...my rule...my empire..." he said, using his free arm to try and push himself forward, howling in pain as he struggled against his blindingly obvious defeat. His voiced sounded dissonant and cacophonous, as if everything but his mind had fully left. Managing to at least push himself off enough, Xerxes' eyes became glassy and dull, as his body landed with a wet, resounding thud against the floor of the gymnasium. The 10,000 skeletons began dissolving as well, many trying in vain to make a last attack on the Card Holders, only for their limbs and weapons to disintegrate upon making contact.

It...was over.

His Class Card, boldly displaying him riding his chariot was impaled upon the very same rock he had been speared upon. Despite the material being pierced, it seemed entirely intact, as the hole was cleanly through the middle with no material jutting out to give it room. It was more like the spike was just holding it up, rather than breaking it apart.

---

As Makoto waited for the fight to finish, he felt relieved, then panicked once Maggie's rampage began. The Caster Card Holder recoiled in horror as he saw what he thought was Rebecca being torn apart, shutting his eyes before he felt himself be moved...

In an instant, he was whisked away to safety and plopped right in the middle of the bleachers. Thoroughly confused, he watched as the guy that had saved him lead Maggie away quickly. Now, with the Big Guy gone, Makoto turned his attention Xerxes, just in time to see him get absolutely destroyed by the combination of Hal, Rebecca, and the new arrival that barreled through the entire building and impaled Xerxes onto a wall. Thoroughly disgusted as the Persian Emperor dissolved before his eyes, Makoto felt a twinge of pain in his eyes as his Skill: Material Appraisal was forced to activate.

"Makoto...investigate that substance. But do not touch it." Zosimos instructed as he eyed Xerxes' desecrated corpse.

Now, conflict brewed once more as the mystery arrival yelled at Hal...Was anybody here going to catch a break? It was just one thing after another, then another, then another, then another. "Today sucks..." he complained aloud. Going over to examine the mud, Makoto felt a twinge of nausea sweep over him as he observed what exactly the stuff was made out of. It was like...magecraft condensed into a pile of crap. A mixture of curses that oozed mal-intent, and the only actual physical part of it seemed to be comprised of basic sediments, dirt, and water. Drawing away from it, Makoto rubbed his eyes beneath the headdress of Zosimos, confused as to what exactly it was that he saw...or rather, what he felt. “Like...it felt like just looking at the stuff made my head hurt. There wasn’t anything special about it...just mud, but...it was like it was made out of tainted earth, or something.” Makoto stated to Zosimos mentally, the latter humming as he looked through Makoto’s eyes.

”.....How strange. It feels...familiar somehow. Regardless, taking a sample is out of the question. Its poisonous to the touch...and yet, Xerxes’ body was comprised of it. We’ll need to dispose of it properly, as well as Xerxes’ class card. Hop to it, Makoto.” Zosimos said, his student sighing and following up by swiftly closing off Xerxes’ body from the others with a dome of stone. Snapping his fingers, the stone dome sank into the ground, taking Xerxes’ body down with it.

”Wasn’t something you’d want to touch.” Makoto said to Hal and Rebecca, nearly managing to grab the class card, before someone new barged into the gym...

-Ratatoskr-

“It seems the battle has ended master” Aife said her voice calm as she stopped sensing the battle going on. “Very well go secure the area no one enters or leaves without my permission” the Lone female said as she commanded the others around her. “Yes Mam!” They acknowledged in Unison as they spread out securing the area each one of them was no match for a servant but she was more than willing to bet on them surviving. “Aife let us go you said the main source of the presences was in the gymnasium correct” “Yes master” Without another word the woman walked up to the gym in a brisk march. Looking at the chaos that has occured she couldn’t help but sigh this was going to be a mess to explain.

Suddenly, A Wild BGM Appears~

“Those who stand tall lend me your ears! My name is Maria Hotsuin I am the leader of a group known as Ratatoskr. I come to ask of you to listen to my words. We of Ratatoskr has been tasked with the guarding the secrecy of the Servants and the “class cards”. We are more than just secret keepers we are that which protects humanity! The shield that guards those remain unknowing of the midnight world! We are that which hides in secret to protect those around us! WE ARE RATATOSKR AND WE ARE THE GUARDIANS OF HUMANITY!” She yelled out giving a probably what in her head sounded like a emboldened speech but came off way different. “Master you are going a bit overboard again.” Aife said with a sigh her master often got carried away with her speeches but she meant well most of the time. Ignoring her Servant Maria wrapped up her speech a few nearby soldiers politely clapping as she wrapped things up. “In the end we ask of you that you follow us so we can explain things in full if you don’t mind. I promise to explain everything to you.”

Outside a couple of Ratatoskr soldiers wasn’t having a good time in fact they were having a very bad time at it. One spotting the fight called in for backup which two more complied to and gathered up. “May I ask you that you lay down your weapon… please.” He added at the end his voice full of fear he was not paid enough to deal with this crap yet here he was dealing with it. “I am a member of a organization known as Ratatoskr and if you would please stop your fighting and follow us.” Another replied this one a bit more brave as he walked up to the combatants his arms spread to prevent the fighting. Though the third one stood there his uniform dirty and put on in a rush but he had his hands out as his gloves sparked with a bit of electricity ready to punch someone though it would probably lead to his death.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Marshall looked at the scientists, and reseated the one on the floor. “Now, now, calm down,” he says, grinning. “You got names, boys? Homes? Families? Loved ones? Lovers? Surely, you’ve got each other,” says the functional immortal, “and, in this day and age, in this time and place, in these, most troubling of circumstances,” he slapped the piss out of the scientist that spat upon the other, nearly snapping his neck, as he raked the talons of his gauntlet over his face, “we can’t just devolve into such nonsensical displays as to spit on people,” he turned his backhand against the other scientist, raking his face, as well, “nor can we just surrender at the slightest provocation of fear and death! We’re humans, not beasts! Respect yourself!”

Huffing disappointedly, Marshall patted the two upon their shoulders, and then put his hands on his hips. “So, good news, chums, I lied,” he smiled, warmly, “I’m not killing either of you -- without reason.” Stepping back, Marshall started to look, and walk, around the room; searching for something. “You said, only you and the warden can be up here,” he says, “As such, I’d like to speak with him or her,” he wheeled around, smiling the sickest smile that a human could produce, “I sure hope it’s a her. I haven’t tortured a woman in forever.”

Dismissively, he shook his cursed hand, and resumed his hunt. “My assumption is this, if you called the warden, he, or hopefully she, will require a verbal reason for being summon, and then, you’ll whimper and whine, which will cause a problems for me,” Marshall says, “Alternatively, if I cause a ruckus, he, or, please, please, please, let it be, she, will come with many guards.” Marshall turned back, unhinged sadism dripping off his very presence, as he grinned inhumanly wide, before he seemed to start struggling to recover. After several deep breaths, he seemed “okay”...?

“Pardon me. I’ve been idle too long, I’ve some nasty, old habits that resurface as a result. As I was saying...” Marshall says, taking a calming breath, “Either option presents threat, so, gentlemen, you have to ask yourself a single question: ‘Do I wanna live?’... If the answer is, ‘Yes,’ then you have another question to noodle on: ‘Is the Warden’s life worth more than mine,’ with the a supplementary -- yes, yes, I know, big word from the brute, but bare with me -- with the supplementary question: ‘Does the Warden think my life is worth more than their reputation?’ and draw from there, your own conclusions.”

“Either or, I am going to ring the Warden up. So, life or death, my crippled, but still-able-to-recover-well-enough friends. This old man is feeling generous,” Marshall grinned, before his expression snapped cold. “Far more so then what’s decided to awaken at last. It’s not my Benefactor, and it’s not happy. So, pose yourself this, additional question: ‘Do I wanna die to the whim of a true Prismal Beast?’...” he looked back to the twosome, “Because, that little Erune girl you foundly poked at... This body of mine you like cutting up... This immortality you seek to understand... It comes at a steep price.”

Marshall closed his eyes, sensing its full presence and intentions, “And, it’s coming to collect.”

---

@The Irish Tree

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

@Kal-El

To be fair, Stalfos already posted long ago in the OOC that their character was going to take out the guard first.

I typically have a rule against going into the gory details as well. I was just gonna have Satirra slash the guard a bunch until someone pulls her off him.

@AdmrlStalfos19

Technically, they didn't ignore you, but you superseded them with your post. Yes, they hadn't posted yet, so you aren't in the wrong; however, you, equally, aren't in the right, either, as they already called dibs to an action before you joined, and simply posted their intended course after you did. As I see it, a simple revision is all that's needed in the interest of fairness, as Stalfos was going attack the alerting guard first; as such, that should be heeded.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

just finished moving and settling in, so I'll get a post up as soon as I can

@Hyyde322

Congrats on the move. No need to rush, though. Moving is hell, sometimes, I know from four past moves.

---

My dudes, I'm sorry I only just now replied. I could've sworn I had made a little post right away, my apologies. I'm kinda used to being on Discord for OOC chatter, so my communicative skills are almost as bad as my writing ;_; But yeah, I got a post in!

@Sunbather

I can talk to Tree about setting up a Discord, if enough people would like that as an alternative to the RPGuild OOC.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

'There!’ Marshall felt his phantasmal blood vessels re-establish. 'Everything is there... save for one thing...’ he narrowed his eyes, as his right arm forced itself into the hole his heel had created in the bed of formaldehyde; forming physical blood vessels to connect with those swarming from the socket it was born to, and pulling together. 'Oh, that bitch stole my heart. Fucking perfect. I didn't need more reason to force-feed her a knife sandwiches, but this helps.’

Marshall twisted blood vessels to create five braided super-blood vessels that wound around each other to form a Gordian Knot with each of the five braids being contracted in alternation to move blood to atrophied muscles, and his lungs. It wasn't a perfect system, but, he'd learned to make an artificial heart when needed. 'Time to get up.’ he snarled, and smashed out of the chamber.

And, so it was to the rise of a pissed off, headless zombie that the scientists were treated. They saw the hole that showed his exposed heart cavity closing, as removed ribs were growing back in place, and the charred right arm extended. A sickening, bubbling hiss escaped the corpse, as the formaldehyde was forced out its lungs, and the scientists fell to their knees; not in reverence nor fear, but destroyed kneecaps.

Shambling forward, Marshall's body trudged over to their bodies, sensing a desire to escape -- a desire sharply cut off by bullets of blood that went cleanly through their shoulders, wrists, and ankles before shambling off.

'I wish I could enjoy this more... But, I will enjoy myself later...’’he says, as his body got closer and closer; making the return trip in minutes. Lifting his head, he rejoined with his body, as a whole, and took a second to adjust to feeling, all but whole, once more. “Finally...” he croaked, the word tired and dry, despite his constant state of hydration. “Now... I get to ask... some questions...”

Returning to the scientists, he picked up the half-alive men, and dumped them in chairs. “Please, please, please, don’t beg me to kill you, before anything you might wish to say, because, death will come to you,” Marshall opens with, before papping their cheeks, “Instead, ask yourself, who gets to not live longer? Just answer a series of questions, and the fastest to answer the most get to die first; blissfully ignorant to the hell that will follow the second.”

Marshall smiled. “First question: Where am I, floor, room, all that? Second question: How do I get out of here with the least encounterable resistance? Third question: I came in with a knife, so where might I find that? And, final question: How do I get off this island,” he asked his battery of questions, and stepped back; arms crossed, expression set grim.

“Now, answer me, kids. And, do it fast.”

---

@The Irish Tree

Fate/Kaleid Prisma Connections

‘Everything. Everything is going wrong. Everything.’ Maggie thought to herself, as she smashed into the gym floor. ‘I wanted to be brave. I wanted his bravery. I wanted it for my own.’ she stared at the ceiling, as her vision desperate sought to resynchronize with reality and the headbash. ‘He was so strong. I could have been that strong. But, everything is going wrong. Everyone got in the way.’ Maggie blinked her eyes, ‘My cheeks are wet. How angry am I? How sad am I? How pathetic am I? Why am I crying?’

[Because, my little flower, you have no allies in this garden. All are naught but weeds, hindering your standalone beauty with their ugliness.] Maggie sniffled, as she groaned; crying from how much of a failure everything had become. [He gave you five minutes. You, and you alone. And, yet, all these weeds entangled themselves. He left, because of them. They wasted your glorious change to bloom.] Maggie drew a strangled sob, drown out beneath the rumble of the building and the cacophony of the magical horn.

[They ruined it all. So ruin them, in return.]

---

For a moment, the Assassin-keeper was posed to congratulate the Makoto on his success, but, the regeneration of Flamma’s head had nullified that impulse. ‘How strong. Frighteningly so. I thought that would be able to handle him.’ thought the skirted teen, as he shifted his posture. Flamma was not heading to them, but he could not be off-guard in case of someone new. However, his guard didn’t need be applied to his awareness, but his fortitude, as the magical horn trumpeted into the world. ‘Hell is that!?’

[Some form of magic, if I had to access, McQueen-dono.] answered his Class Card, [Designed for massive crowd control, or perhaps, siege against masonry and woodwork.] Gritting his teeth, the Assassin-keeper held his hand flushed his ears, and braced against the pain. [Something is wrong, McQueen-dono. I can feel a spike in magical pressure, but, it’s not like a Noble Phantasm. Not like the one deployed, but -- Virgil! Get in there, now!] Narrowing his eyes, the Assassin-keeper, Virgil McQueen, dashed beyond Mokoto without a word, and into the collapsing gym.

‘I hate when you are right, Hanzo-chan.’

---

It was with a scream of anguish and madness that Maggie surged off the floor; her hair glowing, as if made of magma. Madness had overtaken her faculties from tip to toe, as she flung herself at Tsukiya; smashing through the skeletons that were yet to fall apart. “Nnnrrr!!” she growled, throwing her fist against Tsukiya’s cheek, listening to the bone shatter into pieces and bit, before her eyes turned into empty, black space, and she burst apart into a nothing. Tsukiya would fit herself relocated to the bleachers, while Maggie threw herself to the next target of her undying rage.

Blindly, she lashed out with strikes that were increasingly becoming harder to predict, until her fist smashed into Rebecca’s chest; the twisted brick of flesh and bone caving in her rib, and lashing them across her heart. “Raaaah!!!” Maggie roared, as she was treated to the same trick as before; Rebecca poofing into nothingness. Nothing was dying! Everyone that hindered her was not dying! Angrily, she screamed, and threw herself at at Makoto.

She had to destroy him, the most interfering of all.

---

Virgil formed his left hand into a fist, pressing his curled pointer at the base of his balled right hand, before extending his right pointer and middle fingers skyward. “Noble Phantasm,” he says, “My lonely shadow; Fans out like branches on trees; Through which I reach all.” As he completed his haiku prayer, his shadow whipped up and off him; forming into a copy of Makoto that took his place, as Maggie killed “Rebecca”. ‘This is a tough one. Usually, they only look like me. Fortunately, if I let you do it, then it works out much better.’ he sighed.

He didn’t receive an immediate answer. ‘Are you mad at me, Hattori-san, because I called you Hanzo-chan, by accident? To be fair, you called me Virgil, first.’ His Class Card huffed in annoyance. [You weren’t being aware of the situation.] Virgil scoffed, and rolled his eyes, before looking at Tsukiya, Rebecca, and Makoto. ‘I think, I’m doing alright. Now, if anything, these bozos will trust me.’ he says. ‘But, before that, need to claim down the Beast, and only the Beauty can do that.’

Virgil drew Hanzo’s tanto, and ran out the hole; meeting Maggie’s rush back in with a lancing trust.

---

Maggie froze, as the tip of a sword bit into her throat. It didn’t send her to her ass, but, he brought back memories. Memories brought back anger. Anger called forth retribution. “NNNNRRR!!!” she growled, raising her fist to hammer Virgil into the earth. However, the skirted boy skipped backward, and she smashed the earth, alone. “Catch me, if you can, Beast. Let this Beauty lead you to the roses you seek,” he offered, pressing his tanto against her jugular.

Maggie screamed, and whirled around with an arm extended. Virgil ducked it, and hopped back, as she brought a knee to bare against his crouch. “....rrrrr...” she snarled, before tossing her fist at her sky, and roaring to the sky. “UUURRRR!!! ” Virgil grinned at her, and hopped backward, as she, savagely, charged forwards. He didn’t have a plan beyond keeping her far away from people, but he did had the rein to this wild beast.

All he need to do was find a way to leash her.

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

Marshall would have rolled his eyes at such a predictably pointless assault, if they weren't still swimming in formaldehyde. To be honest, he'd expected this much of his roommate; her story was unknown, but her experiments -- tortures, really -- weren't hidden from him. After all, he's been no more than a head in a jar. To what did anyone think to hide the harsh reality of this place from his water-logged eyes? No more than one sensible thought to betrayed the hopes of a child, when they wished upon a star. As such, he figured her durability was high, temper was sky-high, her sense was low, and her rationality was null.

That was good, in this case. As she lashed into reaction range, he threw his hand up, and it latched onto the back of her head. It slipped into the collar of her shirt, and skittered down her back, comically, like an oversized rodent, before fingers enshrouded in light, belying the darkness beneath, curled around the base of tail... and dug in.

'I can barely see, but, I know that was too close.' Marshall mused, as the Erune's berserker charge at him became a flailing struggle to detach his hand from her tail. 'If exposed to the right application of pain, I may be unable to control her, but, I can move her away.' he decided, 'After all, she cannot surmise that a head is capable of the physical feat occurring. Well, suppose, she can, but, the concept is sketchy at best.'

Marshall tabbed out of his own thoughts, for a moment, as the formaldehyde was starting to, blissfully, drain out the bottom of his neck, and he was able to see. 'Well, you're a cute one. For an Erune, anyways.' he admired for a moment, 'A fair sight, now that you aren't orange.' Marshall watched her lash and spin, 'Hrm. Maybe, a cat... or a dog...? No collar. I guess, that would be immoral or something... Insulting, perhaps? Racist, mayhaps?'

'Gah! Focus, Chambers, focus on not getting slaughtered.' Marshall huffed, internally. 'They do look fluffy, though. I'll sneak a pet in later. Maybe, a scratch behind the ears. If she purrs, I'll know for sure if she's a cat or a dog.' he wandered into his thoughts anew, 'Ah, dammit. Focus on the matter at hand. This isn't time to be thinking about a new pet.' he chided himself. 'I just need to make her... actually...'

It was with an inward smirk that he loosed her tail from his hold, and sent his hand rushing beyond the hem of her dress, and towards the door... just to see if she would chase it, or try to slaughter the head that had no possible means of attacking her. It was a risky gamble, but, hey, if it didn't pay off, he would just regenerate the damage in a few hours.

'Let's see if you can fetch.'

---

@Suku

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

In solitude, the mind wanders, wonders, and conjures figments to attack the silence. It questions itself, oneself, and life. Is that encroaching madness why I rest here, allowing myself to concoct a dragon that deigns to question my fate? Arrested in silence, dare I refuse to answer...? How would I answer what obscures the awakening from a dream? I suppose, I’m bored enough to try...

Imaginary Dragon, you would ask me to ally with those that could impede my aspirations -- a word that hasn’t nearly the strength to hoist the weight of my existence. No, ambition is the proper word. An ambition that I will entertain no pointless foolishness nor emotional drudgery. If you would ask me to sever ties of such alliances, I would be unhesitant. I seek the hearts of seven steeped in Sin. It is not for all.

No. Such an ambition is mine, and mine alone. My immortality is unjust, unnatural; a punishment. My atonement is all that drive me. Isn’t that funny, Imaginary Dragon? Darkness seeking to atone for its nature. For that reason alone, destruction does not frighten me.

Perhaps, I can pose to you, or rather, myself, Imaginary Dragon? How should I accept this? A dream, as you seem to want to be? Pray tell, how does one dream, if they are merely a head in a jar; trapped in a haze of thick oranges, subdued reds, and muted yellows? How do you imagine, when you are left to choke in a liquefied nightmare of yourself, silence, and anguish?

Shall I accept this as a concoction of my solitude? A ragged attempt to stay sane in a prisoner of a jar upon a shelf, a mere head without a body, yet able to feel ever twist of the knife that peels flesh from my body, muscle from my bone, and draws against the nerves from my organs? How can I think, when I am trapped within this cloying substance; the mere playtoy of an overthinking bastard’s lab in some rich bastard’s hole in the ground?

Is this figment or fact, fiction or reality? Do I dare to believe that I can still dream, or accept that my mind is become lost? To whom do I speak: a dragon or myself...?

As the Bound Dragon rushed out, to be replaced by Unbound Reality, Marshall shook himself awake, and capped off his thoughts, ‘I wish I could trust myself to know,’ he sighed, ‘Otherwise, that was one hell of a dream I just had.’ Awakening, Marshall opened his eyes, and peer out. He saw the Harvin that always treated him with an infuriatingly conceited reverence. ‘Bye-bye, Mr. Chambers.’ he mocked her voice in his head -- high-pitched, immature, unable to be taken seriously. ‘Someday, conceited child, I will drive that knife down your throat.’ he swore, before the dream flittered over his thoughts. ‘A dragon...’

‘I--’ Marshall paused, sharply, and he felt a twitch. He closed his eyes, and focused. ‘Alright, then, Imaginary Dragon...’ the immortal mused, ‘I’ll see what comes of trusting you, or embracing my madness.’

In the distance, a mistake was made; a simple slip of the hand that caused a jar to roll into just the right range. Inside said arm, an arm twitched; flesh blackened, burn to a crisp, yet radiating Light-natured Ether. It held for a moment, as the scientist that had dropped it scrambled over to retrieve it with his pair of escorts, before thrashing wildly; a powerful fist slamming into the jar, and shattering it.

‘It’s time to shake off the atrophy.’ Marshall says, as the jar his head was in started to bubble and boil. ‘It time to wake up, and reclaim my Sins.’ There was a distant scream – that could help to rouse his roommate -- that dissolved into choking gurgling. Against the wall, the scientist and guards were whipped by the arm that lied in pools blood and formaldehyde. ‘Return to me, what’s mine.’ Marshall says, as his arm turned again, and the blood disappeared. ‘And, pay me... in blood.’

‘Time to escape.’ Marshall decided, as the jar shattered around his head. ‘I have my right arm back,’ he noted, as said limb rammed down the door, ‘Now, the rest is needed. Until then...’ the immortal looked to his roommate, ever-silent, in her lasting, impenetrable coma. ‘Awaken...’

Marshall controlled his right hand, and it leapt in the air; as it hovered, it forged a baseball-sized sphere of blood, and forced it forward at his roommate. As it hit the wall to the right of her head, it shattered -- a shockingly powerful concussive force shattering the wall, the chains, and slapping the piss out of the Erune.

‘It’s time to stop sleeping, isn’t it?’

---

@The Irish Tree & @Suku

Granblue Fantasy: Rhapsody in Red

At the end of the day, Marshall could be a captain; he's just really used to being by himself and only having to look out for himself. So, it would take some serious coaxing.

EDIT: This is slowly becoming Divinity: Original Sin 1/2, and everyone took Lone Wolf ASAP. XD