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20 days ago
Current Never stop creating. Never stop improving. Live life fully, honestly, and the mystical adventure never ends. Thank you, Sensei. I think I'll train tomorrow.
9 likes
3 mos ago
My dreams are getting weird. They usually involve sterile lighting and a bunch of guys in labcoats discussing sedative dosages around me and getting really scared when i try to go to the bathroom lol
1 like
4 mos ago
i consume enough energy drink i changed my zodiac sign, i'm more taurine than any motherfucker born in April and i killed eleven people in that applebees two miles down the road
5 likes
5 mos ago
i be putting myself into situations
2 likes
6 mos ago
mom come pick me up there are big block letters that pop up in my background layer every time i do an action or punch an innocent bystander i'm getting scared
2 likes

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"Buaaaaaaagh!"

A graceless thud accompanied the graceless groan as over six feet of jolly green giant flopped onto one of the cots spread through the room, face first into well-earned reprieve, spartan though it may have been. She'd not exactly slept on worse per se, but there were quite a few times she'd managed to nod off on similarly harsh surfaces. Stacks of hay may have been one thing, but bales of it, or for that matter sacks of root vegetables and tubers, were quite another indeed. This wasn't much more than sturdy fabric over an aluminium frame, so she personally placed them roughly evenly.

The material was a bit like a burlap sack, come to think of it. It was why it stood up to the rigors of her body slam.

"Certainly wasn't expecting that kind of welcome to the world of Ars Magi..." she murmured into the drab olive material, replaying the brief conversation they'd had with the good Captain in the van. Nox poisoning was less toxicity and more corruption into a mindless zombie? School started before you even hit campus, they said... albeit they probably weren't talking about this. Let alone that you had to throw out what you thought you knew about pre-established subjects.

To think that they'd need guarding to such an extent so soon with such clear reasons kinda put a damper on the fantasies every girl grew up with.

She turned, propping her head up with a hand, and considered the other three, this now in mind. They were all (more or less) quiet types. That didn't bother her at all— she knew still waters to oftentimes run deep. Keeping to oneself was just as much a virtue as being outgoing. You had to know how to listen and think just as much as you did talk and do. Selma was good at the latter for sure, but the former was definitely their forte. At least, that was her understanding. Maybe she'd be wrong.

But regardless, with what they had all just gone through, sticking to one's own head replaying that nightmare over and over again would drive someone nuts. Drive her nuts, at least.

For all she'd despaired at leaving her stuff behind, she didn't like the thought of it being the note everyone went to sleep on. Poisoned thoughts made for poisoned dreams made for a poisoned day tomorrow, which they definitely didn't need after tonight. Lightening the mood would go a long way, definitely.

"Y'know what I'm gonna miss?"

A question, entirely rhetorical, cast itself into the silent void between them all.

"Mama's stew. Always made me crash after a long day. She just loaded her biggest cast iron up with beef, potatoes, onions, and carrots, like she was prepping us for hibernating the whole winter away."

Her musings flowed freely and fondly, a nostalgic smile gracing her features. Nothing like home to set a soul at ease, right? Worked that way for her.

"At least, the pepper and stock sure warmed a girl up like it. What about you girls? Anything from home you feel like you're gonna kill for after a week?"

And, to be entirely fair, she was curious about her new friends, too.
Gerard Segremors


@VitaVitaAR@FlappyTheSpybot

Each time he swung, he was met with that stiff resistance. A flash of arcane force in thin air, suggesting the form of a barrier that never seemed present after the moment his sword had been stopped by it. He could force her back and keep her off balance as planned, but that seemed to be the extent of things— even as her eyes left him for what should have been a crucial moment, that pinprick of crimson light, harbringer of thunder, had already coalesced at her raised fingertips in the opposite hand.

She was not aiming for him, else she'd be looking his way and pointing that hand for his unprotected torso. Not at Maritza either, whom he assumed would have been her primary target. Her newly-acquired runic axe could punch straight through the barriers that he'd been flailing around trying to swat past in a single hew.

No. She was aiming past the two.

Even in this flustered state, she looked to get a shot off at the group behind?

No.

No.

He stepped in deep, wild desperation in his eyes beneath the glower of fury and iron of duty. Sword raised high into Vom Tag, it glowed crimson once more as it caught the light of the thundercrack that erupted in spite of his best efforts. His split-second read had been confirmed by the fact that neither he nor the Naga had fried, which meant that this needed to end now. He swung—

The crashing of shattered glass erupted from behind, accompanied by a death rattle and unceremonious thud of skull meeting stone.

The mage, Elva Fraus, simply lowered her arms as her grip on the arcane firmament of the world released, hair falling in suit.

"I surrender."

Remember, Segremors.

Tyaethe's words seemed to flash through his mind, cutting through the trance of combat.

This is a rescue mission.

Gerard tensed every muscle in his body, locking himself in place as the downward momentum of his cut ground to a halt just above their new prisoner's head. A credit to her composure that she so freely gave up while he was en route to beating the hell out of her, but a turncoat provoked little in the way of trust even if they came to one's own side.

He held it steady, not continuing the motion, but relaxing into a guard that kept edge and point more than close enough to discourage any sudden moves. His breathing deepened, slowed, and he pinned the magic user with a glare less outright bestial, and more wary.

"I take it your loyalties lie somewhere beyond the cause."

After all, no zealot would pull that stunt.
gonna try and get something small up tonight to keep things moving






"I don't wanna hear it," the big girl huffed in simple response as she ran, settling into a cadence of long strides and steady breath, a rhythm echoed by the soldier behind the pair as he managed to pull himself free. "Only apologize when you've done something wrong."

It had been a poor choice, short-sighted and rash for sure. Doubling back like that definitely didn't make things any easier for the immediate goal of escape, yeah. But—

"Wanting to save somebody who's in trouble ain't that. Else I'd be apologizing too, y'know?"

And really, that was all she had to say.

Beneath the covering fire of Rivka, her pilfered rifle cracking through the subterranean air in tandem with those of their escort, Selma made quick work of the gap between them and their peers, sparing only a moment's thought to wince at the nasty gash that had opened up on Crystal's arm before their small unit surged forward again, towards the light of imminent freedom that gently filtered down from above. The counterattack had, thankfully, been enough to beat back those masked things enough that they didn't get the chance to go for any of the girls again. For her part, the erstwhile farmhand just tried to keep her wits about her, and ensure her passenger was never endangered.

"Up, go!"

At Wei's behest, she charged up the stairwell, the rest of their motley crew close behind. Taking two, sometimes even three steps at once, a broad and toothy grin playing across her features as the kiss of cold air began to touch her skin. Cold, fresh air— much more preferable than the stuffiness of a subway. The difference was subtle to people who commuted between the two daily, got used to it, filtered it into the background, but after their trials down there it was stark and liberating compared to the oppressive life-and-death below.

"We made it..." she panted, just as much to herself as to Chie and the others, having taken most of that case as what equated to a dead sprint.

Even having lived upon Hasta's "outskirts", Selma found herself taken a little aback by how much darker the cityscape before her was than what she was used to. Dimly illuminated by the weak, artificial off-white of streetlamps, the buildings were as blue-black monoliths in comparison to the seemingly omnipresent glow of the metropolis that had always been in her nighttime horizon.

If she squinted past the light they were under, for instance, she could see stars.

The telltale sound of peeling rubber and massed boots on stone pulled her out of the spell, as the four were quickly ushered into the cuboid, utilitarian, and definitely armored looking transport. By sheer luck of the draw (and taking a second to finally let poor Chie down so she could get in ahead of her), Selma was the last to enter, and occupied a seat closest to the edge, hurting a little for leg room but refusing to complain.

Especially given the circumstances.

"Pheeeeeeeeew..."

As the car (van? whatever it was) got rolling, and Wei set to work trying to at least close that nasty gash on poor Crystal's arm, she instead seemed to release the breath she hadn't known herself to be holding in one big ol' sigh before turning her gaze onto the other three, a somewhat tired smile on her face. Finally, they could relax a little.

"Looks like we made it out in one piece, gang. Three cheers for teamwork."

She raised her fist and pumped it with a small "Woohoo!" before continuing.

"Man, that was nuts back there. Never heard of masked ghouls like that, not that I can remember... Gonna give me the creeps for days. Anyone mind if I play us some music to lighten the mood a li—"

Whomever had deigned to be looking her way as she was prattling on saw the big girl's face freeze mid-sentence, as the spark of some intercepting realization took from her emerald eyes the light that hadn't ceased once throughout the raid upon the station.

Whomever hadn't, heard the dull konk as the side of her hard skull met the reinforced glass of the window beside her, suddenly slumped into the wall of the vehicle.

"My phone's in my backpack..."

A hollow, inconsolable groan floated through the car.

Aaaaaagh! Gott Verdammt!
If people want to post before me, that's all good
music on every post only way to play





[WARNING: Excessive Energy Signature detected within Area of Operation. Evasive Maneuvers Advised.]

A modulated, almost lilting baritone, representative of his mighty chariot's onboard electronics suite, floated into his ears above the sound of the churning maelstrom of gunpowder. A flashing overlay of the designated target area, form of his prey long obscured by smoke, dust, and flame, snapped his eyes into razor focus. Automatically, the display switched to thermals, revealing an array of bright spines that eclipsed even his constant bombardment, white heat coalescing within the field of red into a single point. The analysts back on base would surely puzzle over the mechanisms involved for months as they pored over the footage.

Kon's reflexes and instinct, honed over a hundred sorties, far outpaced that type of careful consideration. He yanked hard on the controls, willing the skyward knight to move.

A line of ichor, sickened sunlight, burst from the cloud below, a lance intended for the heart of the storm. Its passage was heralded by a symphony, or rather cacophony of warning chimes as his HUD went an alarming, deadly crimson.

On his back, The Bedwyr's wings swept in, cutting away the drag he had loitered upon till now.

An instant between instants was all the time he had. Beneath his helmet, Konstantin felt the edges of his mouth pull back away from the mask of stone he always wore. A breath passed through bared teeth, uncertain if it would be the last the man took.

And a roar flooded the cockpit, as every Vernier aboard the white and red crusader blazed to life in an explosive concert of blue-white momentum. Kon's shoulder blades slammed back into the gel cushioning behind him, the violence of action pushing the G-count past 5 as twenty meters of metal swept through the sky. Dodging beam weaponry was hardly a mean feat back in the Solar System, and if he hadn't had that briefest of moments' prior warning...

"Not bad." he breathed to himself, fangs now plainly bared in a wolfish grin. Not intent on lingering again for risk of another potshot from the alien's beam weaponry, he maintained thrust as the orbital approached the speed of sound in a wide circle. Raising his left hand, he mentally noted it an act of wisdom that he had stopped shooting during his evasion— the barrel of his second Super-22 had been caught by the beam in his wake, and had melted into a disfigured, rapidly cooling mass of slag.

Clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction, he returned to comms.

<<This is Bedwyr. One of my guns is trashed, fire support capacity down to 70%.>>

Luckily the magazine had escaped the cooking plasma, or else he'd have a lot of explaining to do.

... That's an idea.

Returning the malformed derelict of a shotgun to its magnetic mount upon the Bedwyr's chassis, he pulled the drum, about halfway filled with canisters if his count was correct, free from the assembly as he observed the scene playing out far below. The alien mechanoid's armor had begun to shear and abrade beneath the sustained pounding he'd put it through, but the munitions had yet to truly crack the giant's gleaming hide. Like waves upon the coast, rather than a round through plating. In theory, he could have continued the cascade and worn it down— but theory tended to ignore when guns went "click" earlier than one would like.

He needed more punch. A thousand cuts of small explosions weren't quite doing the trick, but the larger, shaped penetrators fired by the twin Grecian heroes seemed to be faring somewhat better. That was the path to victory. Not a monsoon, but a singular bolt of lightning.

Drum of explosives in hand, so much like the ancient discus, the airborne Orbital swept into a tight arc downward as it bore into the six-o-clock position of the screeching metallic lifeform, now four clicks out. Locked in melee combat with Gypsy Soul, the red Orbital seemed miniscule by comparison as the crimson glow of its Samadhi lashed out, met by talons of an unknown alloy. Good, distracted.

<<Ground team, be advised. I'm coming in for a low pass on the second bandit. ETA is 20 seconds.>>

[Data transfer requested by PANDORA: Begin Patching? Y/N]

[Y]

As Merlon began to cross-reference its plot of the AO with the flagship-class scanning arrays of Pandora high above, Konstantin's eyes bored into the spined back of their assailant, a high plume of dust in his wake as the Bedwyr tore through the air just 50 meters up at three quarter mach.
sounds like a plan. over here i'm just trying to reverse-engineer whatever the hell music attache i had for a post i noticed contained a dead link, so i'm keeping busy

edit: found it






A groan, a creak, and finally an almighty crash rung through the chamber of the station as part of the ceiling gave way ahead of them, coaxed downward by one of their (formerly) masked foes. Selma, for her part, didn't find much time to focus upon the uncannily wrong visage of their continued tormentors, not enough to truly comment upon it, before things destabilized further. The sudden obstruction of their path was one thing. Another obstacle that they'd get around, provided they stayed a consolidated unit— with Wei's guidance, Rivka and the soldiers' covering fire, and everyone's combined quick thinking, she was certain they could pull it off even if it took one more scrape with the bastards.

Chie had doubled back, however. A string of acrid Russian, uncharacteristic of the poised sniper she had come to know in the short time they spent together, heralded a hollered command from Rivka to retrieve the lost child amongst their quartet. Same conclusion, probably— they'd just need to stick together to get through.

"Leave it to me!"

Whirling on her heel, the scene that lay before her was one of rescue. One of the guys had gone down, struck by the debris— young Rosmarie, in her haste, hadn't noticed him 'till now. While the correct choice was obviously to keep moving towards safety, being the embodiment of humanity's hope for the future...

I understand.

I get it completely.

I don't wanna leave anyone either.


Long legs were such a boon when it came to quickly covering ground, one she was all too happy to abuse as she made a beeline for the pair. She was willing to dodge out of the way of whatever may have swiped at her, even shoulder-check them out of the way, but she couldn't risk overselling movements— there were bullets whizzing by from behind, after all.

"Heyyyyy, girl. C'mon, up and at 'em."

Drawing up to the pair, she quickly realized that Chie, bless her heart, had all but completely tapped herself out trying to get the debris off the soldier. If she was moving under her own power, it wasn't gonna be fast. Not nearly fast enough. When Selma had first tried to harness her element, she'd put herself through the ringer too— and wouldn't have trusted herself to outrun much of anything.

But that was fine.

"You've done what you could. Now just hold on, alright?"

She wouldn't have to.

The big girl grabbed ahold of her compatriot, arms hooking over the legs in the classical piggyback ride that any elder sibling had long mastered before Selma's age. The hopefully-heroine was light, and as soon as Selma had ensured Chie was balanced forward, into her back rather than dangling behind like a coattail, she was off again, back towards the group.

"We're not stopping 'till we hit the surface! Selma Express, leavin' the station!"
I have it on good authority that recent terrorist activities delayed this update
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