KURISUMASU CAKEU
Psyker Landshark
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subway slammer
STATUS: As a GM, I hate all my players in particular 4 mos ago
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As a GM, I hate all my players in particular
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joining the war on smoking, on the side of smoking
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as a patreon reward I will read your least favorite person's handmade custom tabletop RPG homebrew and ask them why they didn't just run it in 5e instead
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I started RP before double digit age but you couldn't have gotten an admission I was under 18 under threat of death. Kids just casually admiting it online now is wild.
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the whole subway's mine for the slammin'
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Bio
sneed
Most Recent Posts
Hell yeah brother
I already mentioned Renar works out constantly
I already mentioned Renar works out constantly
In all fairness, .45 ACP is for chodes. I will die on the hill of "if you're using a pistol chambered for .45 you're compensating for something"
God damn it, Click beat me to putting up a polearm specialist first.
Name: Renar Hagen, the Bastard of Brias
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:
Stands tall at about 6'2. Is well-muscled and broad of shoulder.
Personality:
Focused and keen, Renar is a man who knows what he wants and how to acquire it. And if he can't acquire it yet, he'll find a way. From his days as a child, he'd possessed a chip on his shoulder about his status as a bastard, ever seeking to prove himself and win glory. So long as one doesn't throw his natural born origins in his face, Renar is unbothered, but anyone who attempts to degrade him by insulting his birth status wins themselves a grudge. His primary goal is to win enough prestige in order to rise above his bastard status, either becoming legitimized and taking his father's name or being allowed to start his own noble house.
Renar is more cunning than he is chivalrous, willing to take actions that nobler knights would balk at. After all, he's already a bastard. He'd only be living down to what was expected of him. So why not abuse that to his advantage? In his mind, a knight is a trained killer first and foremost, and any pretensions to honor and chivalry are coping mechanisms to convince oneself of their cause. Still, even he has his limits, and he would not stand for harming children or one's spouse or paramour.
Despite his craftiness, Renar can't help himself when it comes to personal challenges. Whether it be a formal duel or a single combat in the midst of battle, he is easily goaded into one-on-one battles, eagerly wishing to prove himself over another.
Brief Backstory:
Born as a bastard of the House of Brias to his lord father and a commoner mother, Renar was nonetheless allowed to reside within his family's castle and be raised alongside his trueborn siblings. The Brias family had martial origins, originally being a knightly house before winning lands and glory a century ago. Nonetheless, they were still only a minor house, and even a bastard could be of use to them. By the time Renar was capable of walking and talking, his eldest half-brother was already a grown man. Nonetheless, another son could always win more prestige for the family, despite his bastard status. He would never bear the family name, but he could certainly create his own dynasty.
Renar was raised much the same as his half-siblings were, given a formal education as well as training at arms. He had a fair head for numbers and proved himself adequate in matters of administration, but Renar's talents skewed far more towards the training yard. Castle Brias's master-of-arms was noted to have remarked that of all of Lord Brias's sons, the bastard was by far the most skilled in the knightly arts.
Once he'd completed his squiring and his training, Renar took to the battlefield in the hopes of earning his knighthood. A bastard had no place on the tourney circuit, and so real combat was his only chance to prove himself worthy. While it only took a few skirmishes for his trueborn brothers to be knighted, Renar served under a banneret for a number of years before finally seizing his opportunity during a defense against an orcish raid into Thaln. After a brutal battle, Renar slew the orcs' warchief in single combat, claiming the raid leader's mantle as a trophy and distinguishing himself in the process, earning both a knighthood and a recruitment into the Iron Rose Knights.
Equipment:
Renar's armor is rugged and well-worn, but solid and dependable. His set of full plate appears to be a hodgepodge of whatever pieces he determined both fit him well and provided the best protection. He bears a cavalry lance for use on horseback, but prefers using a poleaxe on foot. His sidearms consist of an arming sword and a dagger, both sheathed on his belt. Renar wears a fur-lined mantle into battle, it once belonging to an orcish raid leader he'd slain in single combat and kept as a trophy. His steed is a simple brown charger.
Skills:
Renar is skilled and well-rounded in the knightly arts. Despite the fact that he rides well enough and would likely place a decent ranking in a joust, he prefers fighting on foot as an infantryman and is a far better infantry fighter than he is a cavalryman. He has been trained in most martial weapons, and can fight well enough with a sword. However, his true ability lies in fighting with polearms and quarterstaves, enjoying the reach and versatility a pole weapon affords him.
However, Renar is a terrible shot with a bow and has zero ability for magic. He attempts to compensate for these shortcomings with sheer physical might, exercising and training constantly in order to improve his strength and agility.
Off the battlefield, Renar has a surprising head for numbers and accounting for a knight, being rather adept at financial administration.
Name: Renar Hagen, the Bastard of Brias
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:
Stands tall at about 6'2. Is well-muscled and broad of shoulder.
Personality:
Focused and keen, Renar is a man who knows what he wants and how to acquire it. And if he can't acquire it yet, he'll find a way. From his days as a child, he'd possessed a chip on his shoulder about his status as a bastard, ever seeking to prove himself and win glory. So long as one doesn't throw his natural born origins in his face, Renar is unbothered, but anyone who attempts to degrade him by insulting his birth status wins themselves a grudge. His primary goal is to win enough prestige in order to rise above his bastard status, either becoming legitimized and taking his father's name or being allowed to start his own noble house.
Renar is more cunning than he is chivalrous, willing to take actions that nobler knights would balk at. After all, he's already a bastard. He'd only be living down to what was expected of him. So why not abuse that to his advantage? In his mind, a knight is a trained killer first and foremost, and any pretensions to honor and chivalry are coping mechanisms to convince oneself of their cause. Still, even he has his limits, and he would not stand for harming children or one's spouse or paramour.
Despite his craftiness, Renar can't help himself when it comes to personal challenges. Whether it be a formal duel or a single combat in the midst of battle, he is easily goaded into one-on-one battles, eagerly wishing to prove himself over another.
Brief Backstory:
Born as a bastard of the House of Brias to his lord father and a commoner mother, Renar was nonetheless allowed to reside within his family's castle and be raised alongside his trueborn siblings. The Brias family had martial origins, originally being a knightly house before winning lands and glory a century ago. Nonetheless, they were still only a minor house, and even a bastard could be of use to them. By the time Renar was capable of walking and talking, his eldest half-brother was already a grown man. Nonetheless, another son could always win more prestige for the family, despite his bastard status. He would never bear the family name, but he could certainly create his own dynasty.
Renar was raised much the same as his half-siblings were, given a formal education as well as training at arms. He had a fair head for numbers and proved himself adequate in matters of administration, but Renar's talents skewed far more towards the training yard. Castle Brias's master-of-arms was noted to have remarked that of all of Lord Brias's sons, the bastard was by far the most skilled in the knightly arts.
Once he'd completed his squiring and his training, Renar took to the battlefield in the hopes of earning his knighthood. A bastard had no place on the tourney circuit, and so real combat was his only chance to prove himself worthy. While it only took a few skirmishes for his trueborn brothers to be knighted, Renar served under a banneret for a number of years before finally seizing his opportunity during a defense against an orcish raid into Thaln. After a brutal battle, Renar slew the orcs' warchief in single combat, claiming the raid leader's mantle as a trophy and distinguishing himself in the process, earning both a knighthood and a recruitment into the Iron Rose Knights.
Equipment:
Renar's armor is rugged and well-worn, but solid and dependable. His set of full plate appears to be a hodgepodge of whatever pieces he determined both fit him well and provided the best protection. He bears a cavalry lance for use on horseback, but prefers using a poleaxe on foot. His sidearms consist of an arming sword and a dagger, both sheathed on his belt. Renar wears a fur-lined mantle into battle, it once belonging to an orcish raid leader he'd slain in single combat and kept as a trophy. His steed is a simple brown charger.
Skills:
Renar is skilled and well-rounded in the knightly arts. Despite the fact that he rides well enough and would likely place a decent ranking in a joust, he prefers fighting on foot as an infantryman and is a far better infantry fighter than he is a cavalryman. He has been trained in most martial weapons, and can fight well enough with a sword. However, his true ability lies in fighting with polearms and quarterstaves, enjoying the reach and versatility a pole weapon affords him.
However, Renar is a terrible shot with a bow and has zero ability for magic. He attempts to compensate for these shortcomings with sheer physical might, exercising and training constantly in order to improve his strength and agility.
Off the battlefield, Renar has a surprising head for numbers and accounting for a knight, being rather adept at financial administration.
Still recruiting, or did I find this too late?
“Alright, let’s… ignore all the implications of this for now and focus on what’s important. Not letting that thing blow up the universe.”
Getting back on their feet again wasn’t the smoothest affair in the world, but Dirk and Belzemon managed before long. Whatever the nature of their situation, it seemed that the return of Dirk’s soul and consciousness to Beelzemon afforded them similar function to a Biomerge: with the two working in tandem, it was just like old times.
“Right.” Despite Beelzemon’s attempt at strength in concision, Dirk felt their stomach churn aggressively as real physical sensation returned. They were both still shaken from the trauma of the last few hours, however hard they tried to fight past it. “Last I saw, the others all made it past killing it the first time- BanchoLeomon probably could have soloed it himself with how badly I pissed him off before.”
“... Come again?”
“... Right, you weren’t there for that. Long story, don’t ask.” Dirk felt their stomach clench again at Beelzemon’s words. Then, however, came some clarity: “The shock of… that was what set me off. Imagine what happened a few months ago, but worse.”
“Okay, I get the picture.” Maybe not asking was the better option after all. Old habits died hard, and Dirk figured he could go back to amateur psychiatry later. “But if the others are around, we can try and track them down before it’s too late. Any idea where we can find them?”
“Last I saw any of them up close, they were still fighting them. Where they could have gone after that is anyone’s guess.” Beelzemon groaned. Maybe he should have just stayed in the trance after all. “I don’t know, Examon sticks out like a sore thumb wherever he goes, maybe we can-”
Beelzemon never quite got to finish his sentence. With stealth entirely unbecoming of such a massive form, a dark shape emerged from the thick fog nearby, freezing in place as myriad violent lights fixed themselves upon the Demon Lord below. Sensing the presence, Beelzemon froze too: and then sprung to life with a start at the sound of the voice that met him.
“... Excuse me, but where the fuck have you been, you fickle little bastard?” Parasimon asked, his appearance halfway between a ray of light in the dark and the appearance of a swarm of locusts.
---
BanchoLeomon was well on his way back over towards Examon’s location, leaping across rooftops and debris when his attention was diverted with a quick look down at the streets.
“When did you grow a goddamn conscience, you rotten old fascist? Before or after you nuked the entire Digital World into compliance?”
“At least I grew one in time to step up. I’ll ask you again, Demon Lord. Where the fuck have you been while we’ve risked everything?”
Parasimon confronting...Beelzemon?! That crazy bastard was back?
With a scowl, BanchoLeomon landed against the side of a building, kicking off with both feet and crashing down onto the street next to Parasimon, giving the Demon Lord a death glare.
“Really? You want round two? Now? I’ll be honest, I’m surprised your arm’s back this fast. But without that Crest of yours...you really want to waste our time when there’s bigger fish to fry?”
At BanchoLeomon’s arrival, several of Parasimon’s eyes darted to watch him while the others remained trained on Beelzemon. Something about his words seemed… suspect? Had he missed something along the way?
That impression only got stronger as Beelzemon jumped back in.
“Oh thank god, Lucas, Leomon.” The Demon Lord that the Knight had been squabbling with seemed to give way to the human sharing a body with him. “Look, there’s a lot to explain-”
“Oh, right. We can start with why you snapped and started killing civilians.” BanchoLeomon spat, his fists clenched. “An even FUCKING dozen, you homicidal ape.”
“... Hold on, what?” Parasimon’s bemused expression of confusion was echoed by a wide-eyed response from the human behind Beelzemon’s eyes: but before either the insect or the lion interrogating him had the chance to follow up, the Demon Lord himself was back in control.
“Look, I know full well I can’t run from what happened, with or without you reminding me of it.” Beelzemon’s attempt at sounding defiant was undermined by the queasy edge to his voice, the renewed memory of what had happened threatening to turn his uneasy stomach to outright volatility. “But, like you said, we have bigger fish to fry.”
“Seriously, did I miss another civil war?” Parasimon felt more and more out of his depth with every passing moment.
BanchoLeomon narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have a reason to believe you. What’s stopping you from stabbing me in the back during the middle of the fight just to get your Crest back? Which I’m not trusting you with, by the way. Damn thing doesn’t even work for me.”
“You can keep the rotten fucking thing, I-” A mixture of nausea and fury turned Beelzemon’s voice into a shaky mess: but he stopped speaking before he could finish. Freezing in place, his face remained in a combination of readiness to scream and vomit for a few seconds, before he took a deep, shaky breath and collected himself.
And then he spoke in a tone and timbre unmistakable to either Lucas or Leomon.
“He won’t, because I’m here.” Dirk answered for the both of them.
“Congratulations,” BanchoLeomon drawled, without missing a beat. “You can mimic the voice of a dead man. I know you completely snapped when it happened, but I was there too.”
“Christ, you’re as stubborn as always.” Dirk’s frustration seemed a lot more even than Beelzemon’s, and he quickly bounced back with: “Lucas, you said that when you first met Leomon, he was born again from an egg, didn’t you?”
The leonine Digimon narrowed his eyes, Lucas’s voice coming out of his mouth. “How’s it feel that Siggy’s probably got a bigger dick than you?”
Parasimon rolled his eyes. Mammals and their reproductive organs, honestly. “Look, I don’t know the ins and outs of your group’s politics, but is this really-”
“Hey, fuck off, it’s a solid eight inches if you look at it from the right angle!” But the blow struck home. Frustration became outright indignance, and Dirk’s voice completely engulfed the slight hints of Beelzemon’s own.
BanchoLeomon blinked at that, looking poleaxed. “I saw your head get cut. Off. How the hell are you alive?!” He glanced aside to Parasimon. “How else am I going to be able to tell if he’s lying?”
“... Point conceded,” Parasimon deadpanned to BanchoLeomon as he stared at Beelzemon losing his mind over the slight on his private parts. Really, he should have expected this by now.
“Don’t you go conceding it, you don’t even have one!” It seemed that it had done more than confirm that he wasn’t lying: it looked like it had distracted Dirk from the point entirely. “Hell, if I wasn’t a ghost right now, I’d wop it out on the-” But once again, he froze up: and a moment later, with a shake of his head, it was Beelzemon himself back in control.
“Okay, settle down, five and a half.” Beelzemon groaned, before turning his attention back to BanchoLeomon. “Right, so as he was saying before you brought… that up, I think it’s similar to how Leomon came back when you two first met.” He took a deep breath. “The Digivices can’t completely reconstruct a human’s body like it does for us when we revert to eggs, but it can preserve them as some kind of ghost. There was some more to this, but I don’t even think I understand that. Ask pineapple-head when he’s done overcompensating.”
“...You’re stuck like that, then.” BanchoLeomon took back over from Lucas, nodding. “The situation’s bad enough right now that I’ll shelve the previous incident for now. We need all the help we can get. I’ll talk to MirageGaogamon about it as well. If...when we make it through this, we’ll get back to the matter.” He stepped up to Beelzemon, leaning in close to the Demon Lord’s face. “One hint that you’ve been lying the whole time and using Dirk’s memory, though...and I’ll make you wish you died half an hour ago.”
“Right.” Beelzemon nodded, relieved that they were back on a relatively even heel at last. “After what we’ve seen, you don’t have anything to worry about there- let’s just get back to the others before it’s too late.”
“I was with Examon and… whatever the other big angry dragon’s name is just before I foud you two.” At that point, Parasimon chimed in, the volume of his voice snatching the conversation into his corner. “I fell behind because… well, I fell behind, but I know the direction that they were headed in. Dynasmon is in the same rough direction and I think it’s the same for the other two, but first things first-”
Parasimon paused. Performing the telepathic equivalent of taking a deep breath, the giant insect collected himself-
“Can one of you please explain what happened before I got here?” And took fire at the elephant in the room with all the power that he could muster. “Because one moment I’m shouting at the Demon Lord for deserting, and the next it looks like I missed another goddamn civil war. I swear, the deeper in I get with you humans, the more I think the Sovereigns had a tighter grip on things.”
Getting back on their feet again wasn’t the smoothest affair in the world, but Dirk and Belzemon managed before long. Whatever the nature of their situation, it seemed that the return of Dirk’s soul and consciousness to Beelzemon afforded them similar function to a Biomerge: with the two working in tandem, it was just like old times.
“Right.” Despite Beelzemon’s attempt at strength in concision, Dirk felt their stomach churn aggressively as real physical sensation returned. They were both still shaken from the trauma of the last few hours, however hard they tried to fight past it. “Last I saw, the others all made it past killing it the first time- BanchoLeomon probably could have soloed it himself with how badly I pissed him off before.”
“... Come again?”
“... Right, you weren’t there for that. Long story, don’t ask.” Dirk felt their stomach clench again at Beelzemon’s words. Then, however, came some clarity: “The shock of… that was what set me off. Imagine what happened a few months ago, but worse.”
“Okay, I get the picture.” Maybe not asking was the better option after all. Old habits died hard, and Dirk figured he could go back to amateur psychiatry later. “But if the others are around, we can try and track them down before it’s too late. Any idea where we can find them?”
“Last I saw any of them up close, they were still fighting them. Where they could have gone after that is anyone’s guess.” Beelzemon groaned. Maybe he should have just stayed in the trance after all. “I don’t know, Examon sticks out like a sore thumb wherever he goes, maybe we can-”
Beelzemon never quite got to finish his sentence. With stealth entirely unbecoming of such a massive form, a dark shape emerged from the thick fog nearby, freezing in place as myriad violent lights fixed themselves upon the Demon Lord below. Sensing the presence, Beelzemon froze too: and then sprung to life with a start at the sound of the voice that met him.
“... Excuse me, but where the fuck have you been, you fickle little bastard?” Parasimon asked, his appearance halfway between a ray of light in the dark and the appearance of a swarm of locusts.
---
BanchoLeomon was well on his way back over towards Examon’s location, leaping across rooftops and debris when his attention was diverted with a quick look down at the streets.
“When did you grow a goddamn conscience, you rotten old fascist? Before or after you nuked the entire Digital World into compliance?”
“At least I grew one in time to step up. I’ll ask you again, Demon Lord. Where the fuck have you been while we’ve risked everything?”
Parasimon confronting...Beelzemon?! That crazy bastard was back?
With a scowl, BanchoLeomon landed against the side of a building, kicking off with both feet and crashing down onto the street next to Parasimon, giving the Demon Lord a death glare.
“Really? You want round two? Now? I’ll be honest, I’m surprised your arm’s back this fast. But without that Crest of yours...you really want to waste our time when there’s bigger fish to fry?”
At BanchoLeomon’s arrival, several of Parasimon’s eyes darted to watch him while the others remained trained on Beelzemon. Something about his words seemed… suspect? Had he missed something along the way?
That impression only got stronger as Beelzemon jumped back in.
“Oh thank god, Lucas, Leomon.” The Demon Lord that the Knight had been squabbling with seemed to give way to the human sharing a body with him. “Look, there’s a lot to explain-”
“Oh, right. We can start with why you snapped and started killing civilians.” BanchoLeomon spat, his fists clenched. “An even FUCKING dozen, you homicidal ape.”
“... Hold on, what?” Parasimon’s bemused expression of confusion was echoed by a wide-eyed response from the human behind Beelzemon’s eyes: but before either the insect or the lion interrogating him had the chance to follow up, the Demon Lord himself was back in control.
“Look, I know full well I can’t run from what happened, with or without you reminding me of it.” Beelzemon’s attempt at sounding defiant was undermined by the queasy edge to his voice, the renewed memory of what had happened threatening to turn his uneasy stomach to outright volatility. “But, like you said, we have bigger fish to fry.”
“Seriously, did I miss another civil war?” Parasimon felt more and more out of his depth with every passing moment.
BanchoLeomon narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have a reason to believe you. What’s stopping you from stabbing me in the back during the middle of the fight just to get your Crest back? Which I’m not trusting you with, by the way. Damn thing doesn’t even work for me.”
“You can keep the rotten fucking thing, I-” A mixture of nausea and fury turned Beelzemon’s voice into a shaky mess: but he stopped speaking before he could finish. Freezing in place, his face remained in a combination of readiness to scream and vomit for a few seconds, before he took a deep, shaky breath and collected himself.
And then he spoke in a tone and timbre unmistakable to either Lucas or Leomon.
“He won’t, because I’m here.” Dirk answered for the both of them.
“Congratulations,” BanchoLeomon drawled, without missing a beat. “You can mimic the voice of a dead man. I know you completely snapped when it happened, but I was there too.”
“Christ, you’re as stubborn as always.” Dirk’s frustration seemed a lot more even than Beelzemon’s, and he quickly bounced back with: “Lucas, you said that when you first met Leomon, he was born again from an egg, didn’t you?”
The leonine Digimon narrowed his eyes, Lucas’s voice coming out of his mouth. “How’s it feel that Siggy’s probably got a bigger dick than you?”
Parasimon rolled his eyes. Mammals and their reproductive organs, honestly. “Look, I don’t know the ins and outs of your group’s politics, but is this really-”
“Hey, fuck off, it’s a solid eight inches if you look at it from the right angle!” But the blow struck home. Frustration became outright indignance, and Dirk’s voice completely engulfed the slight hints of Beelzemon’s own.
BanchoLeomon blinked at that, looking poleaxed. “I saw your head get cut. Off. How the hell are you alive?!” He glanced aside to Parasimon. “How else am I going to be able to tell if he’s lying?”
“... Point conceded,” Parasimon deadpanned to BanchoLeomon as he stared at Beelzemon losing his mind over the slight on his private parts. Really, he should have expected this by now.
“Don’t you go conceding it, you don’t even have one!” It seemed that it had done more than confirm that he wasn’t lying: it looked like it had distracted Dirk from the point entirely. “Hell, if I wasn’t a ghost right now, I’d wop it out on the-” But once again, he froze up: and a moment later, with a shake of his head, it was Beelzemon himself back in control.
“Okay, settle down, five and a half.” Beelzemon groaned, before turning his attention back to BanchoLeomon. “Right, so as he was saying before you brought… that up, I think it’s similar to how Leomon came back when you two first met.” He took a deep breath. “The Digivices can’t completely reconstruct a human’s body like it does for us when we revert to eggs, but it can preserve them as some kind of ghost. There was some more to this, but I don’t even think I understand that. Ask pineapple-head when he’s done overcompensating.”
“...You’re stuck like that, then.” BanchoLeomon took back over from Lucas, nodding. “The situation’s bad enough right now that I’ll shelve the previous incident for now. We need all the help we can get. I’ll talk to MirageGaogamon about it as well. If...when we make it through this, we’ll get back to the matter.” He stepped up to Beelzemon, leaning in close to the Demon Lord’s face. “One hint that you’ve been lying the whole time and using Dirk’s memory, though...and I’ll make you wish you died half an hour ago.”
“Right.” Beelzemon nodded, relieved that they were back on a relatively even heel at last. “After what we’ve seen, you don’t have anything to worry about there- let’s just get back to the others before it’s too late.”
“I was with Examon and… whatever the other big angry dragon’s name is just before I foud you two.” At that point, Parasimon chimed in, the volume of his voice snatching the conversation into his corner. “I fell behind because… well, I fell behind, but I know the direction that they were headed in. Dynasmon is in the same rough direction and I think it’s the same for the other two, but first things first-”
Parasimon paused. Performing the telepathic equivalent of taking a deep breath, the giant insect collected himself-
“Can one of you please explain what happened before I got here?” And took fire at the elephant in the room with all the power that he could muster. “Because one moment I’m shouting at the Demon Lord for deserting, and the next it looks like I missed another goddamn civil war. I swear, the deeper in I get with you humans, the more I think the Sovereigns had a tighter grip on things.”
Well my part's been over, I'm just waiting for Drac to finish.
Lucas and Leomon grit their teeth. No. NO. This was not to be their future. They could fix this. They HAD to. They had finally found companions after years of loneliness and solitude. People they could relate to, bond with. It couldn’t end like this. The thought of averting the shattered futures they’d seen filled them with a strength born of desperation, and black flames filled their vision. No matter what, they would avert this. Whatever the cost.
The flames ate through the illusions brought on by Moon=Millenniummon, burning them away and replacing them with clarity. Purpose. Kill Moon=Millenniummon. Keep the others alive. The threshold had been crossed. Any other collateral damage was secondary. What was property damage or the lives of those he’d never known or met compared to the lives of those he actually cared about?
With a vicious roar, BanchoLeomon Ruin Mode awoke, howling his fury up towards the skies.
The flames ate through the illusions brought on by Moon=Millenniummon, burning them away and replacing them with clarity. Purpose. Kill Moon=Millenniummon. Keep the others alive. The threshold had been crossed. Any other collateral damage was secondary. What was property damage or the lives of those he’d never known or met compared to the lives of those he actually cared about?
With a vicious roar, BanchoLeomon Ruin Mode awoke, howling his fury up towards the skies.
In every iteration of the timeline shown by Moon=Millenniummon, Lucas and Leomon found themselves alone. Isolated, whether by choice or by circumstance. The timelines where they found themselves the sole survivors of the group were the worst. Bereft of anyone else to relate to or aid, Lucas sunk deeper and deeper into depression and shell shock until, in a few years’ time, he ate the pistol he’d been carrying ever since Beelzemon’s first rampage. Without even a Tamer to give the solitary Leomon any sort of meaning in his life, the last remaining partner Digimon of the group followed Lucas soon after, returning to the Digital World to enact a suicidal charge, fighting aimlessly until he found himself overwhelmed.
But even the timelines where Lucas found himself with fellow survivors didn’t end well in any sense.
Faced with the utter mental wreck that was Elle, Lucas simply abandoned her to asylum after dubbing her beyond any possible help.
Lucas had never had any particular reason to keep tabs on Zei. Thus, when she attempted to kill herself, the attempt succeeded.
These tragedies hardened Lucas even further, pushing him to ensure that any further conflict between the real and Digital worlds would never occur again. He dedicated the next few years to stopping anyone who would interfere with the Digital World. But the trauma unhinged him, and his methods grew ever more extreme. Eventually, he was exposed and deemed an international terrorist, and fled to the Digital World in exile.
Timelines in which either Leon or Jordan survived were even more tragic. Lucas and Leomon found themselves forced to kill their former friends with their own hands upon witnessing how they turned on everything they’d fought and sacrificed to protect.
Siggy had been the closest friend his own age that Lucas had ever made. It only took a weeklong journey through a digital desert for the two to cement their brotherhood, and Lucas had been forever grateful that he’d met one of the most reasonable and reliable people he’d ever known. So when Siggy managed to hold himself together through the aftermath of Moon=Millenniummon, Lucas had been relieved. But circumstances changed. Lucas had ended up as the one to grow ever more unhinged in his attempts to keep peace as the years passed, and when Siggy had stepped in, saying he’d gone too far, Lucas saw red. The ensuing battle resulted in a mutual kill, BanchoLeomon and Examon’s forms dissipating into data as Lucas and Siggy slowly bled out next to each other.
In the outside world, BanchoLeomon sank to his knees, catatonic.
But even the timelines where Lucas found himself with fellow survivors didn’t end well in any sense.
Faced with the utter mental wreck that was Elle, Lucas simply abandoned her to asylum after dubbing her beyond any possible help.
Lucas had never had any particular reason to keep tabs on Zei. Thus, when she attempted to kill herself, the attempt succeeded.
These tragedies hardened Lucas even further, pushing him to ensure that any further conflict between the real and Digital worlds would never occur again. He dedicated the next few years to stopping anyone who would interfere with the Digital World. But the trauma unhinged him, and his methods grew ever more extreme. Eventually, he was exposed and deemed an international terrorist, and fled to the Digital World in exile.
Timelines in which either Leon or Jordan survived were even more tragic. Lucas and Leomon found themselves forced to kill their former friends with their own hands upon witnessing how they turned on everything they’d fought and sacrificed to protect.
Siggy had been the closest friend his own age that Lucas had ever made. It only took a weeklong journey through a digital desert for the two to cement their brotherhood, and Lucas had been forever grateful that he’d met one of the most reasonable and reliable people he’d ever known. So when Siggy managed to hold himself together through the aftermath of Moon=Millenniummon, Lucas had been relieved. But circumstances changed. Lucas had ended up as the one to grow ever more unhinged in his attempts to keep peace as the years passed, and when Siggy had stepped in, saying he’d gone too far, Lucas saw red. The ensuing battle resulted in a mutual kill, BanchoLeomon and Examon’s forms dissipating into data as Lucas and Siggy slowly bled out next to each other.
In the outside world, BanchoLeomon sank to his knees, catatonic.
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