Avatar of Th3King0fChaos


Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current I play both sides so that I always lose.
1 like
2 yrs ago
Can your Father still claim you if the Mail Man delivered you?
2 yrs ago
I challenge you to a game of Paradox Billiards Vostroyan Roulette Forth Dimentional Hypercube Chess Strip Poker!!!
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3 yrs ago
So I realized that the highest honor anyone can get is not to get a Nobel Peace prize, nor getting your name taught throughout history. It's being made into an Anime Character with giant boobs.
3 yrs ago
So where do I go after Elysium? I just made it through after beating a Chad-dude and his giant burly friend with horns at a break dancing contest.


About me:
I am an amateur writer at best as I have had a bit of experience writing short novels and stories as a side gig (Don't ask me for help unless you are desperate. I barely know what I'm doing half the time!)

I mostly Rp on medieval fantasy, modern fantasy, and modern slice of life. However, I am always willing to do anything. And I have been roleplaying for about 8 years now.

I have a pretty open schedule right now, other than planning DnDs, and looking for a job. (Still praying that one day I can get payed to play DnD or by playing videogames, but I haven't made a dollar yet).

I am normally a very easy guy to get a hold of. If you use one of the following contact info I should get back to you within 10 minutes, if you use discord just @me and I can respond within a quick time (If I'm at my keyboard that is).

AND PLEASE IF YOU THINK I FORGOT AN RP MESSAGE ME!!!! I CAN GARENTEE THAT I FORGOT AS I WAS PROBABLY PRAYING TO THE GODS OF CHAOS THAT I WOULD BE ABLE TO WIN THE NEXT GAME OF MAGIC I'M GOING TO PLAY!!! (In all seriousness I'm very forgetful and scatter brained, just send me a message and I should be able to pump out that post in no time)

Contact info:
nuk3clearsoldier@gmail.com (I know, don't judge)

Discord is- KingChoas #4030 (Ain't too hard isn't it?)

If you need my phone number: First off, who are you and why? Second off, Please don't spam me or I will find you and shove your phone down your throat and make you puke it up and do it again into a trash compactor and watch you cry. Then buy you a new phone. (Just saying I hate spam, also if you get my number you are the 3rd person to every get my phone number, next to my mom and my sister.)

The partners I am looking for right now is people who are chill and relax as well as just some genuinely nice people to chat to and play with. Any style is fine, just be ready as there are time where it will take some time for advanced posts will take me a few days.

Other than that I like to listen to music and anytime someone asks me to do a thing, 90% of the time I will just do it as I just don't care enough. But I will not sing, my voice is garbage and I am not confident enough to even try to learn now.

Most Recent Posts

The 6 Pillars to Tomorrow

After a day of combat, a full day of nonstop violence, Desmond had shown to all in heaven he was the strongest. He had fought multiple great fightrained hard,he had done everything he could, and now, here he was, at the top of the mountain. After a full day, he had finally reached the point where the real fight began.

254 fights have happened, by the end of the day, that number will be 260, and Desmond will have proved his existence.

And find his friend.

The Showdown

It began with a drumline, and then flags, trumpets blaring, and tulip petals falling from the sky. First marched the champions of Tosatsu, and then the champions of the Darhannics, the Angics, the Femrigr, and the Chosen Creed. Finally came the Quentic Greats. Each group was led by its current champion: those who made up the Elite Six. They filed in and raised their weapons. The arena thundered with applause, cheers, and the stomping of feet.

It continued like this for a little bit longer, a few of the newest arrivals not quite sure what to make of it until they noticed the others looking up the sky with an anticipatory reverence. Suddenly, two towering beams of pure light leapt down from above and, from them appeared two colossal six-winged angels.

Valenand, archangel of Vigor, and Forticand, archangel of Bravery, alighted on a platform in the stands. They glanced over at each other, smiled and nodded. The path of champions parted and the combatants entered to thunderous cheers and salutes: two friends who'd trained for this, who shared both a goal and a burning desire to win, but only one could...


Desmond knew this would come, and he was filled with both excitement and wariness. He made his way to the arena as there he would see Edyta once more. He smiled as lightly leaned on a spear and said, "Seems we've finally made it".

He kicked the bottom of the spear and flared it for a moment before taking it into both of his hands, "Let's dance!"

Edyta smiled sidelong at Desmond. The crowds had liked her for her clever ruthlessness and panache just as they'd admired him for his innovation and doggedness. The cheering was about evenly split. "Ballroom, ballet, or square?" She grinned, extracting two wicked-looking sickles - Zamrazenie and Palenie - from her robes and her face became serious. "Eshiran empower you, Desmond." She marched towards the platform where the two archangels watched, surrounded by pentangels, and bowed deeply before them. Taking her cue, Desmond did the same. For a moment, as both bent low, their eyes met. Then, Edyta straightened.

Then, Edyta disappeared.

Desmond stretched as he began to walk forward. He looked around as he thought about the different areas that she would come. He spun his weapon around as he began strike the ground with his spear tip.

The strikes kicked up the dirt and created dust in the air. Desmond magnetized the dust to give himself a buffer for his sensing when Edyta does try to appear.

"Already trying to end this?", Desmond called out to the wind.

"I'm here, Desmond," came her voice from somewhere to the north-northeast. There was a fantastic wave of heat and force and the dust crystallized into swirling shards of glass. "I'm not always in greyspace."

Desmond chuckled, "Oh~! spooky~!"

Desmond began to leap back, taking a few moments as he needed to leave the dusty area he created before it was turned into glass as well.

A smile came to his face as he dug his hand into his bag. Out it came with a glove on it and holding a dagger. He reeled back as he launched the dagger at Laska with Kinetic and Magnetic energy.

Edyta called upon her maelstrom to intercept the dagger, not yet quite willing to give away her full arsenal of tricks. At the end of the day, if it came down to a contest of magical strength, it worked to her benefit. If she could get Desmond into a tug-of-war instead of playing into his cunning, she could win.

As the dagger neared Laska's maelstrom of energy, it was melted within moments. Desmond chuckled to himself as he realized he needed to get more cleaver. He couldn't rely soley on just tricks as she was going to use her absurd power against him.

She already knew a good portion of what he could do. Tricks alone would not be enough. He needed to get either more cleaver or get more power.

So why not pull a trick out of the bag?

Desmond reached into his bag and pulled out a pistol much different that they would know from their time.

As he began to fire multiple rounds each one magnetically charged to fly in different ways to try and find an opening.

Edyta tried to move the maelstrom into the bullets' path, but there were too many for it to cover all of them. Instead, she used her skills as a binder and as a kineticist. She conjured a gas that she called 'deadening air' but that people of later times might know as sulfur hexaflouride. It was thick and would slow the bullets. It was thick and easy to manipulate with her kinetic prowess. It was thick and utterly inert to chemical reactions. It was thick and absolutely deadened magnetism. She grinned wickedly.

Desmond laughed as he continued to fire, "Love to see the creativity!"

In the midst of the firing he began to jog and try to circle around. As before he finished firing he flicked his hand. Out from his bag came 3 cleavers he would send around the other side trying to pincer Edyta.

Edyta's deadening air continued to do its work but, instead of dodging Desmond's attack, she darted forward, right at him, as quickly as she could, and leaped. A massive wave of kinetic force spread out from her in a ring shape, aiming to blast the incoming projectiles off-course and hammer Desmond in advance of her arrival in melee range or force him to focus all of his meager capacity on drawing it away.

Desmond smiled, "Real cleaver!"

Desmond had to not allow her take an advantage. He dropped his gun to prepare for Laska to come into melee range.

He allowed the cleavers to be thrown around as he drew in the kinetic energy Laska produced and sent it back out to try and put up a meager defense.

It was enough not to be thrown on his ass or flattened, yet he still felt the impact like a cudgel to the stomach.

Desmond planted his feet as he began to chemically dope himself and meet Laska in melee with his spear, "Now we're talking!"

She'd added small hooks to her sickles to catch his spear. Otherwise, she relied on her nimbleness to dodge instead of blocking, and her ability to overwhelm his magic with her own to prevent tricks. She moved to catch his spear with one sickle, twist, and keep in motion, either cracking it, wrenching it away, or forcing him to retreat, while aggressively zeroing in with the other. All the while, she tried backing him towards one of the arena walls, a whirling dervish of fire and ice, threatening his weapon with one of hers and his body with the other.

As the sickles came down onto Desmond's weapon and then up it, he realized that she was either going to disarm him or kill him.

Neither option was a good one, yet he needed to make a choice. And a weapon is just a weapon. A tool is just a tool.

Desmond let his weapon go as he lunged and dipped back to dodge the sickle. As his hand slid across the shaft of his spear, he coated it in an invisible fire before he let it fully go.

He moved to put his back against the wall as he put up both his hands, beginning to to enhance them with kinetic magic to prepare to deflect.

"Man, do I love a woman who can kick my ass".

Her sickle slid down the spear's shaft, but Edyta did not grin. She did not lose focus. She slashed at Desmond, expecting him to push back, but then she felt it - a sudden heat - and realized what he'd done: the same trick from his earlier match. If the deadening air she'd filled the arena with made it burn less, it still burned.

She had been trained to deal with pain, however. The skin reddened and bubbled and cried out in silent pain, but she grit her teeth and, without stopping, plowed right through it, drawing the coldfire away and hammering Desmond with a slash that he could...




The sickle missed his head. Desmond was too quick to get caught like that and he managed to partially deflect it, but it sunk deep into his shoulder and Edyta's pupils dilated instinctually at the sight of blood. She flung the spear free and spun on the spot, hoping to rip the sickle out for maximum damage, fling him, and plough her other one in. "Man, do I love a man whose ass I can kick."

Desmond gritted his teeth as he was slashed deeply in the shoulder by one of her sickles and was just barely able to defend himself from the other. As the moment when Laska tried to rip it out and fling him, Desmond went with it. He used his own physical abilities plus a further kinetic boost to launch himself and flip himself over Edyta.

His face winced for a moment before he was upside down and smiling at Edyta, "Glad we're a good match then".

Desmond pulled his hand up as in that moment 5 thin wires of crimson and gold light ignited. Leading from his hand swinging around from where he was and past somewhat around Edyta.

He pulled on the heated and electrified wires to try and wrap them around her further as an attempt to slice her.

The deadening air continued to blunt Desmond's attacks, but it didn't stop them. He had the same pain tolerance that she did and had turned desperate defense into offense *so* quickly. One of the wires scored her across the shoulder, leaving a bloody slash, and her muscles seized up for a moment, but she boosted herself free with kinetic magic, scrambling away just before they could wrap around her. She needed something new. She needed to put him away without using the ability that nobody knew she possessed, despite what Manfred might've said at the start.

She reached with her magics for the blood bubbling out of Desmond's shoulder and started to pull it from his body and his manas' grasp. She pulled, now, with *everything* that she had. She pulled, and began to cast her most powerful spell.

Desmond's face began to wince and his eyes bulged as he could feel the blood be pulled from him.

He couldn't even conceive the thought of him winning a contest of strength of manas between himself and Laska.

He couldn't win like this. Not without doing something *crazy*.

This had to be all or nothing.

In this moment of pain and desperation, Desmond uses her dulled awareness and sense of pain to began to use chemical magic to begin to dull her thoughts further, to skew what she sees.

When Desmond landed, he came down sliding as he used his magic to try and fight the pull of blood Laska was doing, he couldn't let himself be blood drawn.

One moment, she was on the precipice of victory. The next, a cleaver was slicing through her trailing hair as she leapt into greyspace. Only a preternatural danger sense honed over years of combat and training had warned her. It was purely instinctual. She hadn't thought.

*Desmond, you magnificent bastard.* He always had irons in the fire. He did and she loved it, but... she'd made a critical error. The cat was out of the bag, now. She was a greyborn. She'd outed herself, and there was no un-revealing her trump card. Even if she won this match, she'd go into her matched against the Elite Six with no real bullets left in her proverbial gun, and combatants that experienced definitely *would* have fought a greyborn before.

Desmond hadn't revealed his trump card yet. What they'd discussed during their training, what they'd worked out, what they'd agreed on: he still had it. She'd blown it. She'd blown it when she was the stronger one! She'd blown it when she had the better chance. They needed to win to get to that hell and get Tommy back from it. She'd move mountains if she needed to.

Edyta Laska smiled. *And that's it, really: you're smarter than me.* She didn't have much energy to work with, so she waited. She waited just long enough that Desmond might momentarily let his guard down - that he might try to set something bigger up. Then, she'd leap out and catch him mid-cast and one of them would win or one would lose. She served the God of Death, after all, and how *glorious* it would be to experience that for herself without truly dying!




Into the breach!

Desmond laughed and smiled as he said, "Looks like it's my win".

Desmond flared his hand as the cleavers were let loose and were sent flying in different directions. He chuckled to himself as he waltzed his way over to the center of the arena, binding up his shoulder wound as he prepared for the finale.

He began to waltz and stamp, kicking up dust as he magnetized it. As he moved he placed his hand into his bag as he pulled out another glove wire and put it on. He began to hum to himself as he raised his hands into the air and launched the wires high. They shimmered and shined as they streamed up and fell down gently. He twirled and spun around as he hummed. Twining and binding the wires together, forming a net around himself, like flowers in across a meadow.

Then he dropped the gloves as he pulled out 4 daggers and 2 more gloves. He threw the daggers high as he let them float there with his magic. As once more he produced the wires, twining and whirling around and other wires already set to bind the net and then finished by binding them with the daggers.

And then, he bowed.

Edyta and Desmond had trained together and, just in case they were ever to meet, she'd built up an expectation in him: that she'd do the typical greyborn thing and show up right behind him to stab him in the kidneys.

Desmond bowed and his net - deadly and intricate and exhausting to have constructed - drew inward. Edyta appeared just a split second after it cleared where she now stood: firmly outside of it. Instead of a melee attack, she did something simple: an arcane lance with all of the power she could draw on short notice. Desmond, forced to adjust his trap lest it close on *him*, did not have enough mobility or energy to stop it and the deadly beam punched clean through his abdomen.

His eyes widened. *Her* eyes widened. I've killed Desmond, she realized, and she didn't know how to feel about it. They stood there and stared at each other for an endless moment, and it occurred to her that she should probably finish him off because that wound was a slow and painful way to die.

Then, he smirked. He just smirked at her. For a moment, Edyta thought she felt unfathomable pain. The world disappeared.

Desmond leaned his head back as once more he laughed. He looked to Edyta as he said, "Sorry about that, I had to make sure you didn't feel any pain from the wires".

As there was one thin set of wire that came. Heated and electrified it was meant to cut through the center of the net after a few moments, making sure Edyta didn't have to suffer within it. However, now it had saved Desmond by cutting Laska before she could finish him.

As he tried to laugh once more he felt a pain streak through him as he looked around.

And realized, that was it. He now needed to face off against the Elite 6. Strangely, he was not nervous one bit.

The Prelude

3 days of training in secret, Desmond had access to an arsenal of weapons that he could not even begin to imagine. He wanted to take every single one, he wanted to play with every single new toy given to him, yet this was the armory of Eshiran, so he could only train with them during this time. Desmond had all the weapons the collective knowledge of life and death had, yet he needed to choose what would be his weapons to succeed. From blades and swords with guns mounted in them, to miniature cannons, to guns that seemed as advanced as the ones he was given by the Sirrahi. From simple weapons to weapons made from kites, wires, chains, and even tools known for gardening.

Any tool one person could think to fight another, they will do all they can to make it work, so they have it in the armory. Desmond took every weapon he could, played with them all and trained with them more. Every waking hour, every sleeping moment, every single second of his life, was to fight. Now here? He could do it all, constantly without failure, without worry, he could play with anything, and if it would kill him, he would come back.

Edyta and Desmond trained like madmen, they fought and used weapons they were not used to. They needed to become proficient enough with other weapons to never show off their true skills. For Desmond, this was his life. He never knew what he would have at any time in a fight. He has dueled countless opponents in the academy, he has been jumped on his walks, he has been forced to fight at night with no light, and being raided by the enemy. He has needed to learn to fight with chairs, bottles, pitchforks, shovels, and hoes. Hiding in plain sight was a weapon, a tool that required one to learn more tools. And it showed here, yet he took to certain weapons with some fondness, out of his own comfort, or more so, out of some familiarity of another using them.

After days of fighting, and endless hours of training, with no breaks, no rest, and no sleep. They spent their 3 days filled with only fighting each other like maniacs. Using death itself as a tool to forgo sleeping, resting, and even the need to eat. They trained like maniacs, as right before the day of the tournament, they had finally rested. For a few hours, they walked the city, and had a view of the heaven that for one, they always dreamed of, and for the other, never believed in.

Desmond and Edyta chose different paths, Edyta wished to watch the matches, she wanted to try and watch to see if she could find any weaknesses or specific things she could do to increase her chances of victory. For Desmond, he knew what it meant to rest, as he walked the city. The bazaar was marvelous, filled with countless wonders, as it was more lively than even some of the greatest cities he could think of. Even Ersand’Ernise paled in comparison, it made sense, not only did every soul that could be here in a celebration, but then from 6 other heavens, souls of countless warriors and other heavens came to this occasion. Desmond walked the streets, with nothing on him but his clothes and a smile. He took off into the Bazaar and there, he had nothing, yet it required nothing. Here in this land, you could have anything you want, the people here received food when they wanted, items, trinkets, tools, and even money. All one needs to do is wish it, then it will appear, so Desmond walked the streets, wished for money, and spent it. A simple life really, there was no struggle unless you wished it. There was no worry unless you asked for it. It was a good life, yet, Desmond wasn’t sure of this feeling. As he walked the streets, it felt like something was missing. He couldn’t tell what it was, what it could have been, yet as he saw the countless people moving, completely carefree and excited about the countless events, he felt strange.

Desmond stopped and looked up to the sky, it was as blue as one expected, the air was as cool as one wanted, and everything felt perfect. And yet as he stands there, it all felt so hollow. He felt like there was nothing for him to do, he could fight, he could eat, he could do as he pleases, yet there was nothing to do. There is nothing to change, there is no true conflict, this was heaven, and there was nothing to do more.

Desmond’s thoughts were broken as he heard a woman with a high-pitched and somewhat cutsey voice call out to him, ”Hey! Hey kid!”

Desmond tossed his head as he saw flying above the crowd of people a small woman with red hair, small white wings, and a small leather book and quill as he flew over towards Desmond. Desmond tilted his head as he said, ”Delli ansim?”

The woman neared and almost flew back in confusion as she said, ”What?!”

Desmond sat there for a moment as he looked to the woman who seemed confused with his response.

The woman waited a moment longer before she began to laugh, ”Yes! Delli ansim you are!”

Desmond waited a moment, he realized that maybe that was some descriptor instead of some term that Numi used. She did laugh as well when he called himself that as well. Maybe it was something that was calling someone dumb, since when he heard Numi say that he was falling from the sky. Desmond tilted his head, “Hmm? Does that mean nothing?”

The woman waved her hand as she finished laughing, ”Ah, no, sorry, yeah it is just a name of endearment. I didn’t expect you to say something like that though! That’s probably why you got that aura!”

Desmond looked to the woman, she was floating and flapping her wings with a big smile. Desmond began to have a smile grow on his face as he said, ”What kind of aura do you mean?”

”You have the aura of a winner! A real champion’s presence and face. Trust me! The odds are in the favor!”, the small angel like woman spoke in a great cheerful voice filled with an incredible amount of pride in her words.

Desmond nodded and smiled as he said, ”Yeah? Well how many winners have you picked out?”

The woman’s smile slightly wavered and shifted as she said, ”Ah…well…I’ve seen 1 get close. Well 2. But those were unlucky breaks! But you! You have something different. Something greater!”

Desmond nodded his head, his smile began to shift to a curious smirk with a cocked eyebrow, ”How long have you been making odds and betting?”

The woman’s face slightly shifted more now, ”Ah…well…maybe 3000 years?”

Desmond nodded his head as he said, ”I see…”

Desmond began to walk away as the Odd’s maker began to follow Desmond, ”Hey! Wait up pal! Wait! I’m serious!”

Desmond shook his head as he chuckled, ”Well, if you wanna bet, you can. I guess you can follow me since I got nothing else to do. But what’s ya name?”

The woman was taken aback for a moment but then a smile came on her face as she flew up next to Desmond and said, ”Ah! Maryzel!”

Desmond nodded his head, ”Good to meet you, name’s Desmond. Desmond Catulus”.

Desmond and Maryzel began to walk around. She constantly talked and asked him about his plans in the fights. Desmond kept her in the dark, always making jokes about the different fighters. Desmond made slight innuendos, gestures, and other things as they walked the streets and watched fighters as they passed by.

”Why aren’t you watching the trainers more? Don’t you want intel on your competition?” Maryzel asked as she flew around Desmond looking out around him and watching other competitors, seeming to constantly write down things she sees them use.

”Why should I? It will do me no good”, Desmond answered matter of factly.

”Well seeing others will allow you to know what you need to look out for!” Maryzel squealed out as she sees more fights happening, many of which could be great for information gathering.

Desmond chuckles as he says, ”Let me ask you. Statistically, how much will that actually help me?”

Maryzel takes a moment before saying, ”If you watch every fight, 100% chance of winning!”

Desmond chuckles once more as he shakes his head, ”No. Me watching the fights will give me some insight, however, it will also make me too focused on the possibilities. Think about it, how many fights do I need to win to face the Elites?”

Maryzel thinks for a moment, ”You’ll need to win 8”.

Desmond then lightly rolled his hand, ”Out of how many fighters?”

”256 competitors”, Maryzel said as she seemed slightly confused but still following.

”So out of those 256 competitors, I will need to face 8 of them. Meaning I have somewhere near a 4 percent chance of watching the right people I need to. Within the 4 percent chance, I need to hope that I find something that I can use within the time I watched”. Desmond said as he lightly chuckled.

Maryzel looked to him as she listened further.

Desmond gestured out towards the rest of the city, ”Let’s say I spend that time relaxing and letting my mind wander. How much do you think that will increase my odds of winning?”

Maryzel answered hesitantly, ”Uhm…I don’t know…zero?”

Desmond laughed, ”Hahaha, true statistically it is hard to say, but it is also hard to say otherwise. What if that rest is the difference between winning and losing?”

Maryzel then points out, ”What if the watching is the difference between winning and losing?”

Desmond lightly flicked his hand towards Maryzel, ”Well, let’s say if that’s true. With the 4 percent chance of it helping to watch the fights and the near 0 percent chance of not watching, I’d say that there is a low chance anything I do extra now will change much of anything. So why not enjoy the time as I see fit? After all, if you focus too hard, you miss the little things. Besides, aren’t we in heaven? Why be so worried?”

Maryzel nodded her head as she now followed Desmond, still curious of what he meant. In 4 hours, he will have to fight constantly. He had to be prepared to face some of the greatest challenges the gods could ever give. And all Desmond wants to do is buy small trinkets, and walk around the city.

Yet as she watched him walk, how he relaxed, it looked as if she was seeing a man walk slowly through time. As the city moved at a fast pace, constantly swirling around him, Desmond walked through it all without a care. It seemed like the city moved around him, as it moved one way, he moved against it. A single man walked with such a carefree attitude in the city, it seemed as if he was in his own world frozen in time.

This was it-, Maryzel thought, This is my dark horse.

The Climb to the Top

4 hours, of relaxing and taking in the sights of the world, using his time to not even worry. Yet as a bell rang it walled all to the colosseum, and a voice then rang out through everyone’s mind.


Maryzel turned to Desmond, nervous but excited, ”Okay! Looks like it’s showtime! Let’s head over to see who your first opponent is!”

Desmond nodded his head as the two left to enter the colosseum. When they entered, Desmond was guided down to the underground area to await his time. For many arenas like this, the gladiatorial arena was quite glamorous, yet the underground area for the fighters would often be quite lackluster. Yet within heaven, something like that would do no justice to what would be the hall of heroes.

The halls of the area were made of gorgeous white granite, the floor was made of a soft wood that felt quite nice under the feet. The area had a sense of elegance to it, and many within it were relaxing in ways they saw fit. Some enjoyed quiet moments, others enjoyed food and beverages, while some even enjoyed the company of others, without the care of anyone else.

Desmond just walked, caring for none others, as he was guided to a small room that would be his area he will return to after each fight. Desmond looked around the room, it had a bed, a chair, a chest, and a wardrobe. He sighed as he walked to the bed and threw himself onto the bed. He laid there for a moment as he looked at the chest, he swung his legs around as he stood up and opened the chest, within was just a small note, ‘This chest will be your arsenal’.

Desmond closed the chest and thought of a dagger, as the moment he opened the chest up again, within was a dagger of the exact shape and size he thought of. He smiled, as again he closed the chest, and thought of a weapon. As he opened it, what appeared was a large shovel. Desmond began to chuckle to himself as he took the shovel and began to swing it. It was heavy, weighted in certain ways that were not quite right. He put the shovel back in and began to think of it again, this time modifying it to better suit his needs when wielded. He did this over and over again, changing the shape of the shovel, the weight, the size, and even what materials he would use. Making it a weapon all its own.

Desmond did this over and over again, making a new weapon and redesigning it, over and over, to make the perfect version for himself. Then he placed it next to the wall before he summoned another weapon. Repeating as he waited for nearly an hour before he was summoned for his first fight. Maryzel came knocking and opened as she said, ”Hey kid, your match is going to begin-”

Maryzel was stopped in her tracks as she saw the countless weapons flooding the room. As in the center was Desmond as he turned and said, ”Oh, hey! Alright, how about you pick what I’ll use hu?”

Maryzel looked amongst them all as she saw something that caught her eye, ”A…shovel?”

”Alright, shovel it is”, Desmond said with a confident smile as he grabbed it and walked out.

Maryzel followed flustered, ”Wait wait wait! I didn’t mean for you to use a shovel I was curious why you had one!”.

Maryzel tried to pull on Desmond to make him return to his room and grab a different weapon, yet he walked on. He even began to laugh as he said, ”Too late, we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry”.

Maryzel followed, yelling and with worry as they neared the entrance to the colosseum. There stood countless armored warriors, fighting with blades and weapons larger than themselves. Each preparing for the fight of their life as they are prepared to prove their existence.


The colosseum shook and rattled with the excitement of multiple different heavens worth of warriors roaring with anticipation.


Maryzel came flying over to Desmond as she tried to plead with him one more time, even over the roars and applause of the countless souls, ”Come on, we can get you a different-”.


Maryzel then saw the smile on Desmond’s face. This was not the face of some idiot, some fool who never saw combat. It almost made Maryzel shutter, as the face Desmond made seemed almost inhuman.


Desmond’s hand gripped his weapon with such vigor that Maryzel could swear she heard the handle had cracked. His eyes were transfixed and that was like a predators.


Desmond wore a smile more wicked than any other. It reached from ear to ear as the moment the gated doors lifted open, an intense pressure washed over the both of them as Maryzel shrunk back in fear. While Desmond walked forward into the ring, against the overwhelming pressure.


Desmond walked into the overwhelming and exhilarating scene of the world’s greatest combat arena. He could feel the energy flow into him as his smile grew, and his eyes landed upon a man who stood somewhere near 5 foot 2, giant for a Hegelan. His eyes were erupting in fire as the man roared with such power it shook the ground. Desmond could tell this man was monstrous in terms of power.

And Desmond smiled even bigger.

As the two combatants took up their weapons, they faced off, prepared to prove their existence.

As the man roared in fury.

Desmond smiled so greatly, that when a shadow was cast over the arena, his face looked like that of a demons.

A Devil, smiling. Ready to prove who was the monster.

[From here you do not need to read any of the hiders. However they will provide context to certain things as they are some of the fights and interactions Desmond had during his tournament to face the Elite 6]

As Demsond had battled his way through the many trials to now meet a friend in combat. All he wished for was for one of them to make it to the Elites. No matter who is was, Tommy was their prize.

Arena of Gods and Men (and Women)

Collaboration between: @Force and Fury, @jasbraq, and Myself

It was a grand place, rising up from the idyllic countryside, busy and bustling and much in contrast to its bucolic surroundings. People of all shapes, colours, and sizes thronged about. There were the usual humans, yasoi, hegelans, and eeaiko, but also more exotic sorts: cazenax, ogauraq, sirrahi, and even cherune, meerami, and... another reptilian sort that Desmond, Edyta, and Fiske had never before laid eyes upon.

There were sights, sounds, and smells that were incredible. Of the first, a marketplace with wares from across space and time, constructs of metal and other odd materials that moved as people did to train and fight with them, and fantastic beasts both real and competely imaginary. Why, there was a three-headed dragon: a real hydra! There was a winged horse! There were centaurs, griffons, and unicorns, as if plucked straight from arists' and children's imaginations! People seemed to come and go from nowhere. There was a tall and ornate platform in an Avincian style and they either appeared or disappeared when they stepped upon the bullseyes there. Some great beam of light swept down to either extract of deposit them in this place.

A hundred different languages were spoken, yet all understood each other. From inside the great arena could be heard the clash of swords, the sizzle of magic, and the thunderous shocks of explosions, rising above or falling below the surging voices of a great crowd.

Then, there was the food and drink: all sorts of food, aromatic and perfectly prepared and utterly delicious-looking. The fine scents rose above the usual reek of sweat, blood, and ash that one might expect in a place of combat. Wine, ale, juices, milks, and other unfamiliar drinks could be found by the great barrel.

All about them were statues and monuments to the greats. These lined the roads, in addition to great cypress trees, swaying in a refreshing breeze. Angels stood at the doorways of some of the larger public buildings. Others seemed to be directing souls one way or another. Then, in a handsome public square where souls of every sort imaginable bustled about, there stood three great leaderboards:


This was but one of the five great hubs of Eshiran's heaven, and they walked through it, both strange and familiar. Manfred twisted and smiled. "You like it, huh?" he teased, and Edyta nodded in her birdlike manner. There was an expansive garden, somehow serene, full of trees of innumerable types that seemed to commemorate the lives of people. Souls came and went from these trees, which opened up to embrace them and release them. The nun could not say why, but perhaps it allowed them to somehow interact with the living world.

Erika seemed quite at home: an 'old hand', so to speak, while Manfred at least appeared to know his way around. "You see, the afterlife isn't just some idyllic thing," the latter remarked to his companions. "There really is a lot going on. We're preparing for something, always. At times, we're called upon to intervene. Those who've made good with Dami can always reincarnate and..."

Erika shook her head and he trailed off. "Sorry," she interjected, "but the less you know, the easier it will be to return you to the land of the living, assuming that's where you want to go." She shot them a sympathetic glance. "Now, we need to find the Ministry of Semi-Damned Souls. Let's see..."

Desmond began to look around at the wonders of this arena. At first, he would have assumed a place like this would have been a place where arms were sold to be used within Colosseum. A constant arms race to create the greatest weapons to prove who is the best.

Yet here it was different than he thought. It was a bazaar, filled with countless wares. Beasts who transport people. There are even strange platforms that seems to make people appear and dissappear in a pillar of light, possibly some kind of temporal magic manipulating space-time. Even stranger was where trees enveloped people and let them out.

Yet what was most interesting to Desmond at this moment was the 3 large billboards that read: Hunter, Warrior, and Reaper. He was curious what it meant as he tried to see them more closely and see what was on them.

Fiske rode the hand of the hunter as they passed what seemed to be beyond the previous hunting grounds. The decorations around them were the things of beauty, even if he didn't like the whole idea of putting others up a pillar of supposed greatness. Leaderboards that seemed to venerate the most boorish of the people here, this really was one of the heavens he prayed he would've never had to set foot in... the only other that was worse would be Dami's.

It was clear to Manfred that these friends of his from the other side were curious about various things they'd seen, but they still appeared as animals. He blinked. "Oh, I can take you there, but Erika's right, and she's been here for a good while. You'll be stuck as animals until we can get you sorted."

"If we can," the huntress amended.

"We'll do it," Manfred responded with absolute confidence.

"Didn't that kind of typical hero bullshit get you killed?" Erika teased.

"But then I ended up here, didn't I?" he joked, but those who knew him well could probably see that the accompanying smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"I don't like their bureaucracy any more than the next person who isn't stupid," Erika admitted, "but you see that leaderboard that you're looking at so inquisitively there, big guy?" She regarded Desmond directly for a moment. "The only reason they're not coming to fuck you up right now is -"

"Because you're handsome little devil," Erika interjected.

Manfred arched an eyebrow. "And because you're with us. Hunter score is based on bagging animals. Some are golems of Oraff's heaven. Others are damned souls. People gun extra hard for those." He glanced down at Fiske. "More times dead means more sins burned away and a quicker trip to heaven."

"Basically, we've gotta deal with the angels if we wanna get you three back to normal or at least the two of you who aren't damned."

Out of all the things he saw, the one thing he had full interest in were the trees that seems to be rather busy. What would be so significant about these trees, he wanted to see.

The rat tapped on Manfred's palm and pointed towards the trees that seemed to house souls.

Desmond listened as he looked at the score boards. When he heard about what they were, he was a little upset.

He was hoping it was a board about the great hunts of people in the land of the living. He hoped more he was actually on the list.

However, it did feel pretty good when Erika called him a handsome devil. He chittered and cooed in response.

Yet, they were right. They needed to get into a more human form. As if they were animals, they could be hunted down. Who knows what happens if they die here.

Desmond didn't wanna find out.

He nodded to Manfred and looked to Fiske trying to say, "We. Go. Angel. Body Good".

Fiske overheard the one thing he did not want to hear.

Why did he have to die over and over to cleanse himself of his sins? What kind of messed up god gets off on seeing people die until they barely even register dying as a big thing in existence?

The little rat shivered in Manfred's palm. He didn't want to go to this heaven, let alone any of the heavens for there was so much good he could still do. The boy just couldn't accept his fate yet

Then he heard Desmond speak to him, giving Fiske a little more hope. "Me. Body Good. Too?"

Desmond couldn't be certain. Fiske actually died. He was sent here and was expected to fulfil his sentence. Yet that was no reason to say it. There was no reason for Desmond to allow Fiske to saty, when there might be a chance. He chittered and nodded as he said, "Yes. You Too".

Fiske couldn't help but doubt the other. He had actually died whilst Desmond was here with something weird. "Let's. Hope." He did not try to show through his mannerisms. He was nearly considering asking Manfred to kill him continuously.

Edyta did not strictly follow them, for what it was worth. Largely, she soared overhead, taking in this place. She'd found that having wings was a revelation. Certainly, she could hover and even fly with the Gift, but it took energy and constant focus and was far from the effortless ease of this.

Eshiran would not abandon her, she knew, or Desmond. Of Fiske, she was less certain and she cared less as well, though she'd not be so uncouth as to say so. Gradually, they zeroed in on a midsized building between two larger ones, and she came in to land, walking awkwardly in her avian way amidst the others.

They were ushered into a small foyer, almost impossibly ornate with its scullery, marble floors, and illuminated walls and ceilings. A number of doors led off of it but, first, there was an obnoxiously cheery-looking angel sat at a desk. Immediately, upon them entering, she perked up. "Well howdy-do there, friends!? She had the shiniest blonde hair that Edyta had ever seen, the rosiest cheeks, and the most perfect frilly white outfit. "What brings ya here today?" she chirped.

The building they entered begged to be inspected with a closer eye. It's a building of the gods, they wouldn't mind a little piece missing, right? . . . But alas his thumbless dexterity for grabbing things were nearly non-existant.

This angel, she was practically blindingly shining with how cheery she was. It made Fiske want to analyze the looks of the woman. Her hair, her face, every small detail was being forced into remembering.

Then the important answer to her important question arrived. Fiske puffed up his chest and bravely proclaimed.


Desmond looked around at the countless beauties in this world. The building they entered was a gorgeous with a very modern baroque style.

The building even had the slight gothic design within the gaudy and pristine white walls. All of which seemed to lead them to this almost too happy to be there angel. She spoke with such a high and happy tone that it felt as if she was speaking with a child's voice or even that of a chirping bird.

Desmond leaned over on Manfred as he chirped and whistled as he tried to act suave even in his small form.

Manfred seemed taken with the angel. "Why, clearly the pleasure of your company, Hilarix." He reached for her hand and kissed it and she blushed even redder. "Oh my, Manfred!" she giggled. "Not here!"

Then, Erika cleared her throat. "Manfred, sure you shouldn't be in Ipte's?"

Manfred winked, casting a sly glance at Desmond, but then he cleared his throat as well. "Actually, we're here about these three." he gestured towards the people-animals. "Anything we can do to get them back in some more... familiar forms?"

Hilarix considered, pursing her lips and making a 'thinking' face. "Welp," she answered after a moment, "The stork and this cute little honey badger -" She smiled at Desmond. "Those aren't damned souls." She leaned forward quite interestedly. "Quite a rare occurrence." She glanced Fiske's way for a moment. "You know what he is, though. Right?"

Before Manfred could answer, Erika nodded. "Semi-damned."

"Sadly, yes, for our little friend." She extracted a small amethyst gem from her desk and held it out to Fiske. "Watch what happens when I hold this out."

Desmond raised and lowered his eyebrows as rapidly as a badger could to both Hilarix and Manfred before he chirped and laughed. He began to listen, taking in the information, much of it already being what he knew, yet now with some demonstration.

Desmond looked to the small gem and wondered if Fiske could resist touching such a lovely shiny.

Fiske's tiny little eyes stared at the man holding him with what seemed to be disapproval, though it would most likely go over the flirting man's radar.

Then, this devil in a angel's disguise tempted him. Oh, how she tempted him. A small amethyst gem that he could hold. It looked so shiny and the cutting was perfect. One of his little rat paws reached out as he tried to resist the urge to just jump out of Manfred's hand to grab it. A anguished squeak followed suite.

The angel nodded somberly. "You can take it, little fella. It's okay." She twisted to face the others. "You can see the clear strain on his face as he attempts to resist the temptation." She shook her head. "My diagnosis is terminal scumbaggery." She made a pouty face. "Sadly, he will have to burn off his sins through repeated deaths." She blinked a couple of times and her smile returned. "But then he'll be welcome in heaven and we just can't wait to have him here!" She clapped excitedly, bouncing up and down.

It appeared to be an effort for Erika to keep an even face. Once things had calmed down a bit, she had a question about the others. "So... how about them?" She arched an eyebrow. "The direstork was a Rezaindian", Manfred clarified. "The badger was a cool guy."

Hilarix considered once more and one could almost imagine the steam coming out of her ears from all the thinking. She held up a finger, advising them to 'hang on', ducked behind her desk, brought out a large book, and dusted it off. "Oh, by the way, if you want to see how many deaths Mister Guupguup here needs, I can give you a ticket and you'll just go to the second room on the left!" After that, she spent the next couple minutes flipping through pages and reading.

Finally, she perked up and rose. "Good news is that we know what it is! It's a special backdoor ticket into heaven - sort of bypasses our system." She furrowed her brow. "Usually, only really high ranking angels - well, and of course the Gods themselves - can give those out." She stood, scampering around the desk, for 'scampering' was the only way to describe her movement. "Bad news is that you'll have to meet the boss directly." She pointed to the end of the foyer, where a forbidding-looking staircase led up to a landing with a single imposing door.

Desmond chuckled and laughed as Fiske was given the professional opinion of 'Terminal Scumbaggery'. Though repeated death did not sound like a very good treatment to solve it. Yet she was the professional. She even seemed excited with the idea as it would mean he would be welcomed into heaven.

After her time of thinking and figuring out things, Desmond finally received an answer that would get him a step closer to regaining his body. He would have to talk to the head honcho himself.

Which in the heaven of Eshiran, was not at all intimidating.

"Squeak. . . " He knew it would be like this, there was no true way out of this. He did not even want to tell her off for her rather irritating 'diagnosis', but the motivation to rebel waned.

Fiske stared at Desmond, his laugh stung harder than the words of the angel itself. "Hope. Gone." he squeaked before carefully jumping out of Manfred's palm and next to the amethyst. carefully grabbing it and hugged it, making himself a ball around the gem.

Into the Heart

Collab between @Ti & Myself

Once the talking was finished and the plans had been set in motion, it was time for them to get to work. Marz and Maura were to head to the ship to try and see what was happening within and get a handle on the other factors of the situation. When he neared Maura’s strange ship, he sighed, it wasn’t quite finished, yet he had enough time now to know what he needed to do for it. He took in the energy of the waves of the ocean and began to charge the multiple different pieces of metal with magnetic energy. Once that energy fully filled the metal, he began to twine multiple spells together. Holding out his hammer, Marz began to move the countless metal pieces into place and have them stick together through the magnetic energy sticking them together. Then he lifted the countless rivets using the same magnetic and kinetic energies he lifted the plates with and now slamming the plates together to the hull of the underwater ship with rivets.

He took the clockwork engine and began to charge it with his magics as well. Intertwining the energies as he began to form the countless gears onto their axles and sprockets. As the engine began to form, the gears began to go together like lovers. The interlock of the gears teeth just like fingers wrapping around each other, binding with each other. As they begin to wind tighter and tighter, a love is formed, just like the engine that has now taken shape. The moment the engine was formed, Marz used the great well of energy called the ocean to fill himself. He used this vast source of energy to exert tremendous force upon the large, multiple ton brick of metal and set it into its housing.

Once the engine was in place, Marz sealed it with the proper metal sheets and set in the axel needed to drive the paddles of the ship. Marz continued his building as he even began to form the platform under it. It had multiple logs, which allowed it to roll with some ease. As the moment the underwater ship was needed to be set off, Marz began to take in the energy of the waves once more and began to launch it into the platform. Forcing it to move as, the platform and the ship began to roll forward and into the water.

Maura observed as Marz worked diligently, surrounded by an army of puppets on standby, ready to provide assistance. The Hegelan, a master of his craft, was deeply engrossed in the rebuilding effort. Maura knew better than to intervene. Instead, she offered a thumbs up, a sign of appreciation, as he completed his task.“Masterful work, as always,” she praised.

Once in the water, Marz began to help Maura into the ship before he entered and closed it up and did one last check of the ship. He began to use kinetic energy across the interior of the ship causing lots of force across the ship, and took note of the few faults in the ship before he nodded and believed it was acceptable as is before they set out.

As they travelled through the water, the ship was quite dark if they did not use magic to navigate. Marz didn’t need much light, with his magics, he increases his own dark vision through chemical alterations of his sight and light manipulation as they travelled. Yet they still needed a bit of light as the fighting above was creating shadows that played weirdly. So much so that Maura spotted some shadows moving in the distance in such a strange way that it looked like the whip of a fishy tail behind some rocks.

If someone didn't know better, they could mistake it for a normal shadow. Even someone who was a little suspicious, they could mistake it for any other marine life. But Maura and Marz aren’t the norm, they both know better. They took this as the Meerami had seen the submarine. A chill ran down their backs as they realized in the dark they hid and watched. However, thankfully, the Meerami haven't struck and seem content with hiding away for now.

Marz began looking around more as he said, ”Seems ey’re expectin’ us”.

“Then let’s give them a warm welcome.” She moved her hand toward the lights, flickering them on and off in a pattern, communicating out into the water before them. “If they know that we know they are there, they know they don't have the element of surprise and will be less likely to ambush us. And if we don’t make any threatening moves, they may stay back and be content with watching us. Don’t want to test this thing against a horde of suspicious dragon-mermaids.”

After a while longer, they were finally near the wreckage, here the lights from the surface were completely dim. So they had to turn off their lights and use the gift to sense. They began to stretch their senses, they could sense the intense kinetic energy roiling throughout the sea, the arcane energy was low, so they had to search through a different way. They began to transform the massive kinetic energy around them into a little bit of magnetic energy and began to send it out like miniature pulses. Eventually, they found the energy connected with another metal object, they had to be near the main hull. From here, they began to sense around, and slowly, but surely they eventually found an opening. From what they could sense, they realized that from the multiple large sheets of metal, one was blown apart and had countless pieces of metal launched outwards.

After navigating the area so as not to damage Maura’s ship, they entered the opening. When they were able to break the surface, Marz was the first to leave as he used arcane energy to light the place up.

It was apparent to his inspection of the area that the ship experienced an internal explosion that had ripped a hole in the hull, it was likely the cause of the ship crashing in the first place, whatever it was. Fortunately, the resulting entrance was submerged in water because it couldn't be spotted by land or ship. Maybe the Royal Asper Company did not know of it yet, which Marz thought would give them some of the best cover coming in and out when needed.

As Marz looked around, he realized the submarine surfaced into a wide metal lead-lined space with enough gray steel-grates walkways, ladders, and pipes to still make it feel claustrophobic. The area resembled a steam room but was much different to what he was used to seeing within even the most advanced forges or even ships of his people. The space was much bigger than any steam room he had seen on a Clockwork ship, and there were at least four times the pipes branching off in different directions. However, the first convergence point of the pipelines led to... nothing. Five pipes at leg height and four pipes well overhead lead to a space where something big once lay, a slow drip, drip, sounded from the residual water that once flowed through them. Whatever was once here, it had been looted already, and it wasn't the only thing. This plantroom was nothing but adjoining pipework leading to an absence of meaningful machinery.

Marz turned to the ship and Maura, ”Oi, it seems a little ‘ard ‘ere fer ya. Ye wanna stay ‘ere or try yer luck?”.

Maura surveyed the condition of the ship’s interior. "When designing this vessel, rollerchair accessibility clearly wasn’t on their minds," she remarked with a bemused expression. "And that was before the wreck."

Maid Malena came up alongside her. "However, my loyal servant here shouldn’t face such difficulties." The Maid Puppet performed a curtsey toward Marz as a sign of respect. "We can control things from here or help you find another exit if needed," Maura offered, her voice filled with resolve.

As Marz left with the puppet, he chuckled as he said to it, ”Slave driver ‘eh tin man? Let’s see if ya can be useful”. As Marz looked around, a question came to mind as he saw more and more places where pipes were leading to and no machines were there. Who had looted this place? The Royal Asper Company hadn't managed to get inside yet, and the locals hadn't either. The only group who seemed capable of this feat was the Meerami, it was certainly them, right? As they turned the corner, a clue lay pinned to the wall.

It was a calendar open to the current month made of a shiny, plastic-like paper, but what most drew the eye was the calendar picture. A young Hegelan woman knelt on a beach towel holding two steins of what could only be beer. She had short ginger hair and was topless, with only a delicately parted beard to cover each of the nipples. Only one race could appreciate the tasteful beauty of a feminine beard, this was a Hegelan ship. Any Hegelan could go their entire lives without so much as touching a sea vessel, and yet the truth was staring them right in the face.

The Maid pointed at the picture, then pointed at the empty space around them. Where were the other Hegelans? No one had previously discussed or mentioned them. This was a disconcerting fact.

Marz then realized something as he began to look around, another truth had dawned on him. This ship wasn't powered by coal. This was a steam room, so one would expect to see evidence of a coal burner. While it may have been taken away, did the looters also go through the effort to meticulously clean the surfaces of coal dust. This is no easy task, as Marz knew well. So if it wasn't coal, then what had powered the ship?

Marz was about to begin inspecting the pipes for possible residue, until he felt a strange presence. Then he heard it, a faint singing in the distance. They were not alone on this ship. It sounded like it was getting closer, moving with purpose. It was a haunting, eerie melody that felt ominous in nature, and maybe even spoke of potential hostility.

Marz looked around as he saw at that moment an exit that has most of the pipework leading towards it. Marz immediately began to run to the door and was going to follow the pipes. As Marz began to run, the puppet followed fast as they began to clear sonic magic traces coming from behind them. Whatever was producing the sound, it was casting some sort of spell. As they ran, those traces were only growing stronger as the two leave the room and down the corridor. They are being actively hunted and, and they were losing ground even with their magics.

Between the corridors as they ran, Marz was able to follow that corridor and more pipework started to line the walls. This had to be the way to the power source, if it was not in the area they found themselves in. Yet this was not the moment to try and beeline to it. Their pursuer will only follow and will just have a conflict wherever they end up. So they needed to make something happen.

As they ran, Marz began to pull in the energy of the water outside the ship and fill himself with kinetic energy. He used this energy to begin to throw open doors, break pipes and create small barricades. He began to rip up metal plates, and everything else, he needed to get them used to it. Once they turned a corner, Marz pulled in even more energy as he focused it all across the multiple doors and walls down the hallway he would go down and throw open all the doors and pipes. Forcing them all open to look like they had gone down that way before Marz and the puppet slipped into one of the close doors to hide.

In the dark, quiet room, the sound of the singing was haunting. It sounded both eerie and now, soothing. The sound both grated against the ear and calmed the mind. This feeling made Marz feel incredibly uneasy. As he sat there in the dark, he wanted to turn on a light. He couldn’t tell if whatever was following them was near or far. The presence seemed almost impossible to tell where it was. Yet the moment the song sounded almost blaring, it then began to become quieter, and then, the singing stopped. It was in the moment of pure horror, that Marz began to hear a faint slithering grow closer. Then, the singing began to start again, as it began to come through the cracks in the door. Marz began to feel sleepy as the song reverberated from all areas at once. In this state, the hiding place had locked him in with the voice. Yet he couldn’t think of fighting it, rather he thought about trying to outlast it, and maybe whatever was producing it would leave thinking they were not here.

Marz began to take his hair and began to cut come of it off. Then he used the oils and chemicals within his hair to make it more hardened before he stuck 2 wads of hair into his ears. From there he began to use his ear wax and chemically produced more to try and create some seal against the sound. Yet it was only a stop-gap as the sound reverberated through his chest, in his lungs, in his mouth, and his nose. Anywhere where air could exist, it reverberated within him, and he could feel the sleepiness set in.

Through this singing, Marz began to feel how the energy bounced off of the walls, how it shook the metal, and how it reverberated under his body. He could sense all around him as he tried to figure out what to do next, yet it was useless. He felt his body slowly grow limp, it was until the skittering of some creature that interrupted the song. Malena positioned herself in front of Marz and went limp, and gave of the appearance of being inactive and incapacitated.

Leaving Marz and the puppet in an empty room, it was euphoric, the silence and the near unconscious state. It however was interrupted as an intense rush of adrenaline and magnetic magic rushed into Marz that awoke him. Marz almost launched himself to his feet as he heaved and looked around for a moment. He took a breath in and sighed, taking from around his neck a necklace with a gorgeous red gem on it. The gem glowed with a whitish magic for a moment before dimming. Marz nodded to himself as he looked to the puppet and said, ”Pretty close there, eh? Let’s see wha’ they’re keepin’”.

As Marz and the puppet traveled further into the ship, they realized it was far larger than they even first thought. As from traveling from the front of the ship to just the center area stretched their sensing between each other to the very limits they could perform. As with Marz, he is unable to pick out Maura’s ship anymore since she went into low-power hiding. Yet, the search was worth it, as Marz was able to witness a contraption so magnificent that any lesser man would consider it the work of the gods.

Marz and the puppet found where the pipes lead as many of them went into a room. Once they entered the room, they found it was a small room, maybe no more than 3 meters wide walls and multiple spots where desks were. The only thing left in the room seems to be a single door which hid a ladder. Marz was skeptical that this would lead them to their destination, yet they needed to know. After climbing down the ladder, they entered a somewhat small yet spacious area. At first, they thought the area had nothing within, the room had nothing attached to the ceiling except some wires to hold off the grated catwalk that led to the center of the room. There were no energy signatures able to be sensed at first, as it felt like this place was more empty than normal.

Marz had a strange feeling about the room, there had to be more, as he began to look around. When he entered, he was confirmed this was not some great big machine to act as the ‘heart’ of the ship. Yet, he hoped to have found something like that. He hoped there would be some great large spherical device that would hold a large fire within, or even something more impressive. Yet as he inspected the room, he couldn’t sense much of anything. It was not until he neared the center of the cat walk, he could finally sense the faintest energy within the room, and it was terrifying. Under his feet he could sense the faint signature of one of the most intense energies a man can produce, atomic energy. The Maid continued to look speechless as it examined the surroundings.

Marz then began to inspect the room again. It was a small mostly sealed off room no more than 6 meters length wise and 10 meters across. The room stood assumedly 5 meters high, yet as Marz looked down and cast a light magic, he could see he was wrong.

Underneath the catwalk were 8 strange cylindrical devices that were 10 meters tall and 2 meters wide. Those 8 cylinders were split into 4 as they were on either side of the catwalk. The cylinders were set around this device that held them and seemed to have countless wires, pumps, metal plates, and tubes that lead between them. Marz began to inspect them as he noticed that there were railings made of thin metal that restricted his walking yet allowed him to walk onto the large cylinders. As he stepped onto them, he began to inspect the devices further.

As he knelt down, he began to look into where the cylinders were, countless pipes and wires that filled the bottom area that led to the rest of the ship. From this one point, it was powering the entire ship. This massive, nearly 400-meter long ship was powered by this small room. The heart of the ship.

Tarak fought like a madman even while being jumped and mounted. Some of the Misfits tried to break it up, others stepped away as they thought they would be punished if they got involved. The fighting was like a mosh pit that made it difficult to almost know who they might hit. Yet as a gunshot rang out, the fighting stopped. Tarak even stopped as he had just grabbed the little shit and nearly threw his rat ass.

There was only one thing to follow.

Back in Tarak's bunk area, he threw water over his back which only irritated his wound more, however, he wanted to clean the blood and sweat. He sighed as he began to wipe himself down and people began to cry out from the pain.

"Ah why were we hit!"

"We did nothing!"

"Quiet down, we take these because we are together".

"Maybe you were!"

"Hey stop yelling! Some of us are licking our wounds in peace!"

Tarak sighed as he began to stand up and made his way out to the common area to start talking with them. Tarak took a breath in and began to walk among them and tried to just talk to them to let them vent. Even though they were all adults and had been in fights before, disciplinary action of this nature was not something they were used to. For many of them, they thought they had left this type of stuff behind. However, after much of their ranting and complaining, many settled down, and some seemed to even forget the pain as they talked and laughed among each other.

As physical pain meant nothing when they had been given countless good news. They wiped out a lance of mechs, and retrieved countless pieces of material and equipment, with now Reya returned with some good news. A little pain with the pleasure made the good times feel better.

Tarak left the Misfits to their own devices, they had settled and now, he went to look for Reya. He wanted to talk to her directly about what had happened with her time. Also to make sure she knows he's fine, whatever that's worth.

Into the Afterlife

Made in collaboration with: @Force and Fury & @jasbraq

"Scheiße!" called Erika.

"Mein Eschi..." murmured Fritz.

Then, the Honey Badger got the Direstork's attention. She flapped her wings a couple of times and hovered above the group. The dragon crashed to the ground, mortally wounded, and the dogs leapt upon it to finish it off. There was every chance that it had once been a person.

"Fritz," began Erika.


"They're both people-animals, right?"

He scowled, considering. "They must be, but there's no hellish aura."

Erika nibbled her lower lip, lowering her gun. "I think we should tell Manfred about this."

"Where is that upturned-mustache cat weirdo anyhow?"

"Last I saw, he was playing with a rat," she remarked.

"Hah! How fitting."

"Perhaps these two have come for him."

Fritz seemed to consider. "He hasn't been around for all that long I suppose, so it's possible."

"Do you think that rat was -" Erika began, and Fritz shook his head. "No way of knowing until we meet back up with him."

Edyta alighted close to the group but not so close as to alarm the dogs. "You two!" called Fritz, "follow us. We're headed to the colosseum. We'll see if we can get you sorted there."

Then, in the distance, hurrying over a hill, came - well, it was not just some random man named Manfred, but the one they'd actually known in Ersand'Enise. He had a guupguup in his hand. It was bracing itself against the wind, its little whiskers fluttering, its fur ruffling.

"Manny!" called Erika. "Is that another human-animal?"

"It is!" he called back, "and I know him, luck of all luck!"

"Does he have the usual aura?" shouted Fritz, but Manfred was a good deal closer. He arched an eyebrow. "Yes. Why?"

Desmond tried to call to Laska, yet still found it difficult to even try and produce a word. He wanted to ask if she was alright, yet he had to be well enough with seeing she seemed uninjured. Desmond then shook his head and began to turn to their new 'friends' Erika and Fritz. Desmond's ears peaked up for a moment when he heard the name Manfred, yet he didn't get his hopes up.

A Manfred who likes cats with a mustache? That could be the one he remembered, yet, this was the land of the dead. Everyone who had ever died could be here. Those similarities could just be a fluke. Right?

Desmond perked his head up and turned to Fritz when he spoke of them heading to the colosseum. The Honey Badger nodded and chirped and followed.

They had not moved very far however when they found Manfred. Desmond's ears launched up as he began to run forward. Chirping and squealing.

Was it a sign of aggression? For a Honey Badger? Probably. But for Desmond, it was happy. Desmond had nothing but fond memories of Manfred. And a feeling of loneliness since the last missions they were sent on by the school. He had lost countless friends. Many he had only made goodbyes to them at the school and never saw them again. People he would never see. Many, he couldn't even imagine what happened.

Friends, who he would never know what was their last wishes. Their last moments. He could not do a single thing to help them. All that he could do. Was cry for them.

And now here. Desmond ran forward and tried to jump to his hind legs to hold onto Manfred's leg. Chirping and chittering happy noises.

The usual aura? What the hells did that even mean? It sounded like it was bad news for him and all he wanted to do was crawl into himself and hide but he knew nothing of the sort was possible right now. It was then that he noticed two other animals. A racoon-ish animal? . . . and a stork!

He leaned over the hunter's fingers to witness the Honey badger hug Manfred's leg. Is this another person he knows?

Fiske's sight returned to look up to Manfred's head.


"Oh, because ours didn't," Fritz answered.

"One dances and sings," Erika contributed cheerily. "The other is a bird that kills dragons."

"I think they killed the dragon together," Fritz amended. "Our avian friend was just at it longer. The badger had song in his soul and had to -"

It was at about that point that Badger-Desmond began his cheerful flight towards Manfred. The Kerreman's eyes widened in alarm, but he knew enough about the species to tell that this wasn't an attack. Fritz was right, as well. There was no hellish aura. Then, the animal started... humping his leg!? "Agh!" he shouted. "I know you're excited, but -"

Well, he wasn't humping it, per se. Perhaps Manfred was a bit to familiar with the antics of a different Fritz: his dog. He tried to keep his hand steady, lest Rat-Fiske fall out.

"Whoa!" he called, "Whoa there! Who are you?"

"We've no idea who they are either," continued Erika. "They're far too smart to be animals or creations, but they don't have the aura of damned souls."

Manfred arched an eyebrow, glancing down at Desmond and over at the stork, who seemed far more reserved. "Well, I know that this little fellow is a rather unfortunate relation of someone I knew in the living days." He held the rat on his palm out for all to see. "His name's Fiske. That familiar to either of you?"

The direstork went still for a moment. She blinked. Then, she took a few rapid steps toward Manfred and, particularly, the guupguup named Fiske.

Desmond looked to Manfred and the others. He listened to how they spoke. Damned auras, neither him nor Laska had one, which meant they were sent here somehow, yet they were not damned. Good that makes things easier

Yet the one in Manfred's hand did. He too seemed to hold intelligence, yet he had an aura. Which meant he had died and was now punished to be here. Something that makes sens. Yet what didn't make sense was when Manfred then referred to the damned soul he found as Fiske.

Desmond's eyes widened as he allowed himself to step back. His mind raced for a moment as he processed that thought. He couldn't make sense of it. Fiske died. Then thoughts began to seep in.

It happened again. Another one died. Fiske was here. How? Why?


That's what Desmond wanted to believe. Just a coincidence. Desmond breathed in as he steadied himself.

It's a coincidence.

It had to be.


Too many things are lined up. A coincidence now is impossible.

That had to be the Fiske he knew. Maybe.

Desmond look to Manfred and nodded as he was going to use this time to try and figure out a way to make sounds that sound like words. Desmond tried to squeak out in a certain way to say, friend.

Edyta Laska stalked right up through the middle, ready to go on a diatribe. Indeed, she spoke, but not a soul understood what she said, and it was just as well. "If that's Fiske, I sympathize that Lady Eshiran has called him here," she began, "He did not strike me as outright evil." She tilted her avian head to look up at Manfred gravely, taking Desmond in as well. "However, this is a damned soul. Does that mean nothing to any of you!?" She shook her head. "This is not the sort we should be working with!" She swallowed, her large beak clapping open and shut as she did so. "We are here to rescue Tommy and..." She trailed off, perhaps recognizing her own hypocrisy. Thankfully for the direstork, nobody had understood anything she had said - merely noting that she had become rather animated.

Manfred, meanwhile, strained to understand what Desmond had said. He pursed his lips. "Mein freund," he remarked, pained, "I don't understand a word you're saying." He paused. "I know, you, don't I... is there any other sign you could give?"

It was at about that point that Edyta raised her wings, first bringing them together as if in prayer and then holding them over her head in crude imitation of a nun's habit. She held them out like sickles and slashed them about.

He could actually understand them? Who else do I even know that was damned?

He squeaked in return to the other. whilst casting a name he thought it could be Silas? It can't be Niallus, right? Maybe it was the other Eskandish dork. Fiske just looked at the other. Sven? He stared back at Manfred then back to the honey badger, than to the Stork. . . who made him feel somewhat uneasy. He turned to the Honey Badger with a rather scared look. They He pointed to the Stork. Friend?

Desmond looked to Fiske, he realized that he can understand him. Desmond nodded his head as he gestured to Laska and said, "Friend!"

Desmond gestured to the large stork again as he squeaked out, "Nun. Laska".

He then tried to stand on his hind legs. He balanced as he put his hands to his chest to gesture to himself and squeaked out, "Me. Desmond".

Fiske flinched at the mention of the nun. "Nun?! Here?" His squeaks sounded rather panicked. If he remembered she wasn't from one of the fun orders like the Hundrians. . .

"Desmond!" It was then that his squeaks became filled with joy, before sadness kicked in once more. ["You. Dead. Too?"

He looked rather hesitant. "Me. Tell. Manfred?" Fiske wanted to ask since a person's name holds a lot of weight.

Manfred started, glancing at Erika and Fritz. "You're a nun!" exclaimed the former. "Ah, yes, my sister was a nun," Fritz added. "Liesl, is that you?"

Edyta shook her head and crossed her wings in an x-shape. She tilted her head, regarding Manfred steadily as Fiske and Desmond chittered and chirped at each other in excited tones. "Mein Gott!" the magusjaeger exclaimed, "You're Sister Laska!" He shook his head in disbelief. "How on Oraff's green Sagand did you get here!?" He twisted to regard Desmond. "And you..." He considered. "Not Marci, right?" He glanced down at Fiske as well, who'd mentioned Marci. "Not Dory!?" He'd said she was in trouble. Perhaps this was part of it!

Desmond shook his had, "Not. Dead".

He then nodded his head to allow Fiske to give Manfred his name.

Fiske looked quickly regarded Manfred to make him feel more at ease. He shook his head before casting words. Not. Them. A little annoyed feeling boiled up as he could do nothing more than what some would consider parlor tricks... Even if others would refer to his illusions as mere parlor tricks they were not the same.

Manfred considered for an extended moment. "Desmond!" he exclaimed. "Desmond! It has to be!" He shook his head. "You're the only motherfucker I know who's crazy enough to go to hell without dying!" He paused. "You're not dead, right?" He glanced at Erika and Fritz. "Is that even possible?"

Desmond began to laugh. He nodded as he jumped up and down to confirm, not only is he Desmond, but he's not dead.

The little rat only looked more confused. How can someone willingly think of becoming the Heavensent's prey...?

"Why. Here?" Fiske asked. Nobody would have even noticed his death so it can't be for him. But he wouldn't know who else they would grab. "For. Manfred?"

Desmond shook his head as he gestured to Laska, "No. Laska".

Desmond then gestured to the colosseum to refference Eshiran, "Sent. Save. Tommy".


The boy knew that he was already one of the damned. Perhaps he would given a nicer animal form after being helpful for one of his only friends left.

"Me. Help." He stood rather proud. his little furry chest puffed up.

"Desmond, ol' buddy. Holy shit. Count on you to do somethign like this, but why!?"

Meanwhile, the Kerreman pair looked at each other. "I've heard of it," Fritz admitted, "but I don't know for sure." He looked Erika's way. While he'd been in heaven for perhaps a few decades, she'd been here for well over a century, perhaps even two. She smiled at the display, perhaps with a hint of wistfulness, and nodded, dropping her unserious demeanor from earlier. "I've only seen it a couple of times, but it's possible." She shouldered her rifle and started to turn. "A sort of backdoor into this heaven, or even a hell."

"Well, are they stuck as animals for as long as they're here?" Manfred prodded, glancing at Desmond. "Or longer? I mean... they can't be, right?"

Fritz shook his head helplessly and Erika paused. "I... think there's a way, but I don't know it for sure," she admitted. There was something about the honey badger. It was as if she was being ever so slightly pulled in his direction when she was close to him, almost.... magnetically, but it couldn't be. She shook her head. "We should get to the colosseum. I think I know who we can talk to."

Desmond turned to the conversation being had. It sounded as if they had a thought that could work. Among anything, it was something to go on. Desmond nodded to them as he squeaked out once more in both excitement, and also preparedness.

He turned to Fiske as he said, "Let. Go".

Before turning to Laska and trying to give a honey badger thumbs up. Their plan worked.

Whatever it was from the beginning.

"I'll stay behind and deal with this carcass," offered Fritz, and he and Manfred exchanged a handshake and half-hug combo that ended in a couple of backslaps. "Holy shit. Desmond." He shook his head. "Get over here and hitch a ride on my back. You're looking even shorter than usual," he teased.

The direstork seemed to arch an eyebrow, if such a thing was possible. "What?" Manfred rejoined. "You have wings, Sister. Use them."

Erika smiled and shook her head. "What if someone else wants to bag himself a direstork?" she queried. Still, she felt a pull towards the man-turned-badger. She knew what it meant, but she couldn't figure out how.

In any case, they set off, Fiske's proud little chest puffed out, his fur ruffling in the wind. They set out for the Colosseum and, hopefully, a solution to their multiple dilemmas.

Beach Side 'Work'

The moment Marz had made it to shore and built the sand bunker wall, he sat behind it as he saw everyone else begin to set to work. Marz took the moment to rest as he began to check if he had everything on him. He had his clothing, his armor, his tools, his hammer. Marz nodded to himself as he began to unstrap his bag from his back. It was a mostly sealed bag, there were however some places water could get in.

And sadly it did.

Marz began to empty out his bag to see that water had filled it completely. He saw his multiple bottles were sealed tightly enough that water seemed not to leak in. Yet his other items seemed not so fortunate, his extra clothing, papers, calligraphy tools, and even the spare food he brought were all drenched in the salty brine of the sea. Marz took in a breath and then cursed something foul.

He never liked the water. He tolerated it at best. Yet he was plunged directly into it and got all of his nice things wet.

He began to shake his head and gathered his things. He bound the sand together with binding and magnetic magic to form a solid almost rock-like surface as he used it as a place to begin to dry them with arcane and chemical magic. He began to target the water molecules on the outside of his things and began to evaporate them quickly. After this, he began to create a bone-dry surface that would absorb the water from the things to dry them more quickly. Once finished he stood up and began to look around. Which leads to him finding the strange boats. They were simple in make and nature. A product of their environment and use Marz could tell. With even the cannons being hastily and haphazardly placed upon them, these were boarding vessels by nature. Yet from the cannons' mountings, it must mean that they are preparing to fight what seems to be the interlopers of the sea here.

It was not long from this time Marz, much like the rest of the group, was met with the locals. Mahal was the first to find them, and they seemed well enough. From what Marz understood, some were to be guided to meet with their leader. While those who wish to build what Maura brought, should do so from beyond the tree line. Marz nodded his head, "Fair enough". Marz began to collect his things as the locals seemed nonhostile, he would prefer not to have to fight them. It was not why he was here, and he'd prefer to do what he needed for the job and nothing more.

Once Marz retrieved his things, he returned to the boxes Maura brought and was greeted to...no one.

Everyone else seemed to have run off to interact with the locals and left him with the task of building what Maura brought.

All on his own.

"Gurg Lagh'e", left Marz's mouth with such vitriol, that even if no one knew what he said, they knew what he meant.

After Marz had spent the better part of his time building the strange contraption that Maura brought, he wasn't quite finished with the work. The beast must have been broken down in such strange ways to allow it to be transported in crates that Marz was essentially rebuilding it from the ground up. Magic may have been the greatest gift the gods have given to crafters, yet it did not make the process any less tedious.

Marz was somewhere near half of the monstrous contraption being rebuilt when he was fed up. He kicked a rock hard enough to launch it through one of the metal sheets before he dropped to the ground with a loud thud. He had sat down and began to look off in the distance, there he could see toward the encampment and see the bonfire, some laughter could be heard as Marz took up his bag.

Marz began to walk out of the treeline where multiple of the men around the campfire took notice. They looked to him as if scanning Marz, many assumed he would have been off doing gods knows what. Yet there stood a man, whom many assumed was easily twice their senior based upon Marz's facial hair, some gave a little respect, while others did not care. An older man, who had a beard much as magnificent as Marz's own, gestured for him to come over.

"What want?", the man's words were choppy, his voice was low and rough, yet even in a normal conversation, seemed to bellow out with such power that it reverberated in the chest.

Marz opened up his bag, pulling out a clay bottle, "Make friend?" A silent look was shared between the two. The man asked with a raised eyebrow, "Fire Water?"

Marz's smile grew large as he nodded and said, "Hotter than sun".

The two bearded men looked at each other, smiling wide as they said, "Friend".

There now stood a gathering of over 30 men dancing around a large roaring fire. Each one flushed with loose swaying and speaking with slow and slurred voices. Marz had brought out one clay bottle as the first to take a drink was Marz's new friend. Even though the man stood a solid 6 feet and had a gut as wide as a sail, the moment he took a single swig of the drink, it was over. The man's eyes bulged, his nostrils flared open, and his eyes began to water. He took it down, however, it burned so much it felt like drinking boiling water. He coughed for a good few moments, as multiple of the men stood up, thinking Marz had just poisoned him. Yet a moment later the man bellowed out such a hearty laugh that it shook multiple people from their makeshift seats.

He stood up and slapped Marz in the back so hard it sounded like a drum just sounded. He began to laugh as he walked over and began passing the drink around to the others. Another man walked over to Marz, somewhat of a younger man, however, he adorns himself somewhat differently from the others. He seemed to be covered in multiple large tattoos, and carried on his hip a blade, unlike the others around him, which many carried different yet much less intensive weapons to make. Very little metal seemed to be used, so the single blade on his hip must have been important. The man spoke more softly than the loud and almost roaring men who surrounded the fire, yet he had his own presence, as he spoke with a little better Avincian, yet it was possible in this situation, "Hello, I am, Kai, Pa'aori".

The man seemed somewhat happy to see he is able to speak with someone who could speak Avincian. Marz answered while inspecting him more, "I am Marz-", Marz began to hear around him the sounds of people talking about them, he heard multiple of them say the same thing, Pa'aori. Marz assumed it was some kind of title rather than just some piece of a greeting. "Grand Smith".

kai's face lit up as he heard the word grand. Marz took it as he knew what the word meant but not the full context of the word yet it must have been some kind of significant meaning. Kai nodded vigorously, "I, am grand, gifted". Kai continued to nod, very proud of both his speaking and his status as 'grand gifted'. Marz takes this as him being able to use magic, and must be filling some kind of spiritual role as a person able to use magic to a greater degree than others through either some rite or training.

Marz nodded as he pulled out another bottle, "Pa'aori, drink?" Marz offered to Kai as a gesture of good faith. Kai waved his hand in front of him to decline, "No, no drink. Fight. No drink". Kai declined in a way that made Marz find to be somewhat loose. Kai must be a good Pa'aori, yet Marz had other ideas, as he spoke in a somewhat saddened voice, "No friend?"

Kai waved his hands in front of him now flustered as he tried to right what happened, "No. No. No Friend. I mean. No-". Kai began to stutter as he seemed to stutter and flutter as he realized that he wasn't saying the right things. It was then a loud bellowing laugh came from behind Marz, "Pa'aori, no friend?". Kai continued to get more flustered as they two began to speak and exchange in a conversation. Marz could not tell what was being spoken, however from what Marz saw the giant of a man had a smile as wide as the sea as he flustered Kai more and more.

It was then both bearded men spoke in unison, a shadow almost casting over their faces as all that could be seen was their smiles, "Friend?".

Kai looked at the bottle, he knew he shouldn't. They shouldn't be drinking, not before a fight. However, this was out of diplomacy's sake, right? Just one drink was okay.


There standing on top of multiple trees, on a platform was made using wood, and the leaves were hardened and bound by magic to make a platform, Kai. His face is completely red and flushed, covered by a wooden mask that Marz made from some of the wood using his 'Grand Smithing'. He stood above a crowd of over 60 men as he stepped forward and roared with such a voice that it could almost be mistaken for cannon fire. He slapped his chest as he began to chant and stamp as many of the men below him began to follow in unison. They yelled sloppily, yet loudly and with enough power to feel the sand beneath their feet shake and shift.

It seemed as if he was performing some kind of grand ceremony. Many chanted on, maybe something like a war dance. Or possibly a giant shared drunken moment that will live long into memory as it will go down in infamy why you do not take a drink from a short bearded child. In any case, Marz joined in, yet soon was picked up by some of the other men as they began to parade him around, calling him by some title, Ahi'pu.

The chanting and roaring continued as Marz supplied them with strong enough booze to kill a dragon.

And they drank it up like a beggar sitting next to a forge.

Hunters and Hunted

Desmond Catulus

Desmond's eyes opened, he took a breath in, and found himself...digging through...bramble?!

Desmond subconsciously began to wince in pain, yet he found as he moved twisted in the bramble, if felt...good? It felt like it scratched just hard enough to itch the back, yet not hard enough to hurt. Desmond was curious, he began to rummage through the bramble, seeing what was within, yet before he could even reach in, he noticed something, his hand was different. He had a paw with extended claws, he turned his hands to him to see he had foot pads, with fur of black, and as he looked higher up his arm some white. Desmond began to rub his hands into the bramble, it didn't hurt, not even when he leaned into it, well, it did hurt, it just felt as if he didn't care.

Desmond then sensed something, a very powerful smell, he twisted his body to see a massive Direstork just a ways away. He tilted his head as he made his way over, every now and again pawing at the ground to see if the bird would respond, yet it looked to him. Desmond sighed, 'This had to be Eshiran's Eternal Hunt, and we were sent here as prey'. Laska forming as a giant bird was quite funny to him. 'Her big beak matching her big mouth', Desmond chuckled to himself.

Desmond began to cast his sight about, into the great wonders this world was. Great seas of green, winding rivers and deep valleys, comfortable hunting lodges, and in the very distance, a coliseum. Desmond pondered for a moment, 'Where to go? Hm, we might be trying to reach the coliseum, that, had to be where we had fully reached heaven'

Desmond nodded to himself before his ears picked up the snap of a gunshot. Multiple began to ring out as that confirmed it, this was the Eternal hunt, and they were in prey. Desmond gritted his teeth, it would be easy to fight if they were other animals, yet they were a Direstork, a large bird no doubt, yet it was not a beast who was intimidating, and a Honey badger. As a Honey badger, they can be fierce, yet being the size of a small child didn't do any favors.

Desmond began to look around, they needed to survive, and hopefully find a way to get a more appropriate physical form.

Desmond the Honey badger turned to Edyta the Direstork as he made multiple reverberating whiles and squeaks, 'If we show up at a Lodge, they'll maybe think twice in shooting us', as he began to move towards one of the lodges. They needed to survive, this is the only chance they had in doing this, so they needed to do this smart. First, they needed to figure out where the shots were coming from, then they need to move to a place with more people. They may be hunters, however, if they show human signs in a place where the hunters may not fire, it could give them some way to find what they needed to do here.

Casted Into the Deep

Marz Mohfolk


A loud slash was made the moment Marz hit the water as he sank beneath the waves. Marz felt himself sink deeper and deeper into the water. Marz began to look around as he realized he was only going further and further into the water. He drew in the energy of the waves as he began to propel himself up towards the light, where the moment he broke the surface he came out like a majestic beast of the sea. His long majestic hair and beard flowed as he landed back into the water.

Where he proceeded to start drowning again.

He proceeded to perform this same dance with the sea over and over again as he evaded cannon fire and figured out where the land was. Thankfully it seemed all he needed to do was follow where multiple students who began to move the large crates. Marz performed his majestic swimming all the way towards the beach, whereupon launching himself out of the water one more time, he flew for a moment and landed with all the grace a rock being spiked into the sand would.

Marz began coughing up water as he looked around, "So, how was my swimming?"

Marz began to stand up as he used kinetic and magnetic magic to pull the water off his body. Once Marz made sure he was fine he began to intertwine his magics to begin pulling sand and water together to create a mound of sand, thick and large to give them some haven if the cannon fire was to turn on them.
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