Uran Skies (IC)

[Recaiden]

The clock rings.

You find yourselves at the central amphitheater of the Conventicle Malfeasant. Built for several hundred, it has nevertheless grown crowded as Infernals survive long enough to gather more companions to themselves and new conspirators join the Reclamation. Few of the Yozi attend the entire Calibration meeting (Hegra in particular never answers her invitations, and each year some excuse is found to keep Isidoros busy, but Malfeas, Szoreny, and the Ebon Dragon are currently here, all in the person of the Brass Dancer) but the Unquestionable are present in some number. In the first few years of the Althing, one would find Jacint here rearranging the roads and connecting townhouses, but since his colocation was damaged he has made only one appearance. Likewise, the city-dome is littered with serfs, familiars, and servants from among the first circle races. Citizens are oddly few in number, and anyway...

The clock rings, a little louder.

It seems safe to say that the meeting-place is in chaos. A few moments ago the defiler Intercession was giving a controversial presentation on the Republic of Chaya, but now he's off the stage, leaving just a projection of a new-strain radiolar behind, and the crowd is splitting off. Everyone wants to know just what is happening. The nerve-lights bring down Ligier's light, but the stone ceiling blocks everything else quite effectively. Groups are heading out to the townhouses in order to make use of the portals outside (you really shouldn't be leaving the Conventicle, but this is a special circumstance, isn't it?), and next to the temple complexes one of the Gates of Passage is already powering up.

The clock ring, the sickening organic clangs it produces picking up in volume and speed.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

The Defiler was half asleep in his plush seat, legs up resting on the head of a First circle serf in front of him. Who couldn't complain lest it ended up bottled somewhere in Markarth's little lab. But then that Infernal ringing, woke Markarth up from his half sleep. Something was amiss, and that made Markarth grin. After tapping his boots on top of the demons head to clean them he stood and took off onto the nearest exit. However the Throng of people made that difficult.

He concentrated a moment and under his feet he hardened a sliver of his anima and rose above the crowd. He knelt down and held onto the edge as he took off towards the exit. Laughing as he did so.

[Priest_Of_Banjo]

Indomitable Prince of Battle

The Prince had been paying rapt attention to the presentation when the clock rang. His eyes darted around the ampitheatre as he tried to recall what the sound meant.

Curious, he thought to himself It is rare that anything interrupts this meeting. His calm, interested demeanor was hidden underneath the blank masked helm. I am sure we will be informed soon enough.

He stood, rising out of the plain wooden chair and picking up his spear. He proceeded toward the exit at a slow relaxed gait, waiting for his Lord to clarify the situation.

[Draken]

Jarak

In his dragonkingoid guise, Jarak raised his head at the sound. It was rather unusual, indeed, to hear the noise of such artifacts that were forbidden everywhere else in Malfeas.

Honestly, the magic had been lost some time before. Now it was somewhat of a grating noise.

A prince, he saw, had the right idea. And in sequence, Jarak stretched his wings to soar above the mob and witness the proceedings from a more advantageous point.

What could this be, indeed, that dared break the revelry of the Yozis?

[Mechanix]

The Maiden

"Whatever could this possibly be?"

The crystalline voice rings delicately in the air, and for those close enough to the bejeweled figure of the raksha it is beautiful enough to make them forget the noise of the clock for a brief moment... Which comùes to an end without bringing any sort of response. The spectacles-wearing spider at her side shrugs apologetically.

"Well then." Her gaze scans the crowd. Disturbing one of the Unquestionables with such trite questions would be unwise, so that leaves... Mostly the unidentified reptilian-looking fellow soaring above the crowd. The Maiden sighs - though her mask's features remain still - and is suddenly gone, in a flicker of white light. She reappears in the air in front of the sipirit, her feet stepping lightly on gossamer strands that bear her aloft.

"Hi. Would you happen to know the meaning of this disturbance?"

[Priest_Of_Banjo]

Indomitable Prince of Battle

A pause interrupts the Princes' walk to the exit. Seeing the bright light, he turns around towards the centre of the room and sees two figures, both vaguely humanoid in shape. He stares intently at the smaller of the two figures, hoping to gain some sliver of information about them.

Interesting. Few would dare be so bold during such an occurance. I wonder... He raises his voice, hoping to catch the attention of the newly airborne members.

"I would not question such an event." He booms at them. "There is very little that happens here without reason and far less that would interrupt this meeting of all things. I am certain we will discover what is happening in good time. Might I enquire as to your name? And to yours, dragon?" He nods politely to both of them with a flourish, never taking his eyes of them as he does so.

[Draken]

Jarak

A snort vents acrid fumes from Jarak's nostrils.

"Had I knowledge of what is happening I would most likely not try to get a good line of sight to it all! Fae fiend."

And then rises a prince.

"There are questions and there are questions. Questioning that denotes curiosity and seeks knowledge should only be held back if you have reason to think Orabilis will find issue in the answer, although you would be hard-pressed to find anyone to question who could give a dangerous response!"

"The other questions are those of faith, and these are not voiced or voiced to sow dissent, and easily seen as such by all but dull mortalkind. These have no place in Malfeas."

"As for who I am, prince. I am Jarak, Elemental Dragon of Vitriol, in the service of the Yozis."

[Mechanix]

"So dreadfully self-important," the masked woman comments with a clear chuckling, dancing lightly in the air. "You should lighten up! This realm is a place of chaos and confusion. Even though its hazards and disasters happen at the whim of great cosmic beings, they are ever in disaccord and conflict; I doubt any of it happens according to an actual plan, today included."

And then she curtsey, a bow half-respectuous and half-mocking, and adds: "I am the Maiden of Dreams, called by some the Subtle Knife of Makarios, and by some fae fiend. I surmise this day's terror and confusion will provide plentiful sustenance and trade for me in the upcoming days. And you are the Indomitable Prince of Battle, Chosen of the Pyrian Flame. Oh, don't be surprised - there's hardly twoscore of your kind at any time, easy to keep track of."

[Priest_Of_Banjo]

Indomitable Prince of Battle.

He laughs a deep throaty laugh from the diaphragm, all the while showing no mirth in his eyes. He then abruptly stops and stares calmly at the newly identified Fae. A eerily smooth and monotone voice echoes from his mouth.

"It would not do to question that here of all places things happen for a reason. Why, my Lord and his kin always have reasons for their actions. Else, why would we be here now? We are but servants to a cause greater than our own. You, fae, should know that better than most. He laughs harshly once more before proceeding on in a lighter tone.

"I mean no disrespect or harm. Greetings to you, Maiden of Dreams. To you as well, Jarak. I have heard stories and rumours of you both but scarce little else. No concrete facts about either of you. A shame, I am sure."

"I am to assume then, by the faes' questions and the dragons'... behaviour, that neither of you have any idea as to the meaning of this chiming?" He sheathes his spear and places his hands behind his back, seeming to make no movement as he awaits an answer.

[DukeGod]

The Huntress stood up and walked alongside the Prince for a time, quite a bit as strangers merely. She didn't talk to him

Of course, as he pauses to talk to the Fae, all of that is over. With barely a look at the tall raksha, she turns her head back forward and walks a bit faster

[Draken]

Jarak

A flexed muscle pulls back and up the frills and flaps of skin around the dragon's mouth. Its anyone's guess if such is a grin or the baring of teeth.

"I can think of no better term than the epithet of the Shadow's chosen for a fairy in hell who has been accepted by the Yozis."

"And disparage not my words, my princely Prince! From the first word of this exchange, not turned to you, I will admit, I have made it positively clear that I am clueless to what goes on."

[Recaiden]

The shadowy figure before Markarth grumbles and rises up. Its shattered mind recognizes an incourtesy was done to it, but not exactly how.

As for the sound, it is nearly unmistakable to the Prince of Battle. It is as deep as Adorjan's silence, as loud as Isidoros's crushing charge, as dark as the approaching blackness of the Shadow of all Things. And it is as unfamiliar as all Hell was when he first arrived. It can only mean a monster is coming. A Primordial or a Behemoth of incredible power.

What is happening is that the gathering is breaking up, many Princes bringing their entourage and akuma associates back to their own buildings and their integrated portals. Others simply make for the grand torii that makes up the main entrance; all the gates lead there anyways.

Questions of speculation fill the air. Across the central plaza, a contingent of Blood Apes moves with purpose, escorting a band of human children (?) out of their pavilion and through the city. At the back of their troupe, Malfeas (or a perfect imitation thereof, assumed in honor of your greatness, my king) walks beside the Queen Mother, arguing fiercely.

And a few are gathered and looking for information in speech. A small crowd is gathered around a woman, Princes and Akuma and their demonic servants, listening to her relate what she sees. She looks to be one of the Djala, small and pattern-skinned beneath red sashes, save that she is standing a few feet in the air, has teeth lengthened into fangs, and there's something off about her eyes.

The fangs, levitation, red, apparent humanity, and shifting labyrinth pattern in her irises mark Ululaya, the Blood Moon, Third Soul of Kimbery. Appearing in any number of Malfeas layers, in any position or phase, on a whim, she would certainly be in a place to see whatever is happening.


A brilliant architect and builder of places for places sake, Ululaya worked directly with Oramus in designing the interior of the Silver Chair of Night, and its outer appearance was modeled in her honor. She claims to be working on a 'project' that will revolutionize the Reclamation and Hell itself, but keeps it secret such that all known of it is that involves the Celestial Exalted(Lunars and Sidereals).

"-mechanical, built vaguely like an ocean predator. It's larger than any war machine we've imagined. Likely radiating its own geomancy. No response to any messages visible. The surface is swarming with motion. Devas, not all within projected essence curves, and numerous weapon emplacements. If it's an isolate those may just be to repel hannya, but it has no signs of damage or warping. Prepare yourselves for a battle. I-
Questions ring out from the crowd, but she ignores them.

There is a sharp crack of brass on stones, and an unmistakable rainbow light shines over the scattered assembly. Orchid-Consuming Guardian, lord of the Conventicle Malfeasant, now stands at the center of the amphitheater, the radiant staff of his office held tightly. What is this flight and confusion? Are we animals to flee at any frightening sound? No, go out and meet this intruder like the Princes and lords we are! The Althing is dismissed. With a wave, the man vanishes. The departure from the meeting-place is no less hasty, but perhaps there is a bit more excitement, a bit less fear.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

A soul of Kimbrey? That did catch Markarth's interest. He hovered nearby listening to her speak, was she talking about what had made the bells ring so?

Then the Loud Crack and the lord of the Conventicle Malfeasant spoke, That's what I was trying to do. He thought, he resumed his exit flying out of the Conventicle intent on meeting this threat head on. Once outside he stood up to his full height still standing on his disk created form will and thought.

[Priest_Of_Banjo]

Indomitable Prince of Battle

Fascinating... Very well. I will serve. The Prince mulls over his basic plans in his head; his hands slowly moving around as if they had a will of their own, flowing like water around each other. Direct confrontation is what we have been met with. No attempts at stealth or trickery and we have a small piece of forewarning in the chime. A powerful foe this must be. An elated grin spreads across his face. Oh yes. This is a good day for battle.

He turns to the raksha and the dragon, grin still painted across his face with mirth clearly evident in his eyes.
"Well then! Might I have your aid in this? Greater numbers are always appreciated, especially if what we face is as... unique as what the chimes would suggest. Joining forces with two such as you would be a thrilling experience, I'm sure."

[Draken]

Jarak

The dragon loses his smile at Orchid's shout, but regains it once the Prince turns to him.

"But of course, good Prince. I have been endearing the idea of fighting besides the Exalted."

At that, Jarak stretches his wings and wraps himself on them, before flashing a verdigris-tinted orange and erupting in his larger serpentine form.

"Grab my tail if you want to fly with me."

Just as suddenly, Jarak dashes into the air of the conventicle towards the exit.

[Mechanix]

Bwa! All these Infernals and spirits and their haughty demeanor. So wonderful. Maybe she should have manifested as one of the Cup - having a delicate but subdued ornament entertaining them would have made all this convention of hellish upstarts underestimate her until she could wrap them around her finger. But no point in ponderings might-have-beens! This day is the most exciting she has seen in a very long while, and to think - an otherworldly behemoth, or a lost cousin, coming to this Realm... Delightful, delightfull!

There is a new flourish and crystalline laughter, and the Maiden swoops by to grab her very confused lore-keeper, detaching two strands of glittering thread from her garments for her handmaids to hold onto. Then, with surprising alacrity, she dashes after Jarak - not flying, but running and leaping on these invisible strings that seem to always be right under her foot.

"My, brother dragon, how might your jaws and how long your tail! With such a might spirit by my side, I should fear nothing from this world, or from any other."

[Recaiden]

The Huntress is the first of our heroes out of the building, part of and yet apart from a crowd of serfs and weaker citizens and those who are no longer quite human, one way or another. She had received an impression that this meeting was going to be particularly important. Was this why?

She is shortly followed by Marakarth. The Infernal steps outside and finds himself outside the Conventicle, just where he should be, rising above a crowd rushing out through the torii, and amid a flock of dispersing agatae, emputhanei, unjuu, and others who are able to take to the skies. Behind him is the towering wall of scorched bones that makes up the perimeter of their headquarters.

Finally, a dragon burst out from the entry, carrying his companions along, scattering some smaller, lesser demons as he rushes out into the city.

Basalt streets fan out from the entryway, separating gardens of brass flowers. Deep canals filled with acidic water are here unusually exposed to the surface. Music fills the air, a million jumbled tunes. Amidst the din, you make out a distant rumbling, ever so slowly growing louder.

The character of the sound is such that you can tell it's coming from layers away., far above you. It must be deafening nearby.
Why, it sounds like a drill.

[Priest_Of_Banjo]

Indomitable Prince of Battle

Hearing the sound echo through his ears, the Princes' eyes widen and his mind starts to rapidly analyse possibilities.

Right. We have a large object rapidly descending in Malfeas. It's powerful enough to interrupt the meeting and we know that our masters, including my Lord, have little intelligence that are willing to share.

It's big, powerful enough to mobilise the forces of Hell and we know little about it.

Bring. It. On.

"Jarak, my unique dragon! Place us down here and we shall fight this new foe on OUR terms, with OUR forces! We must call all who are willing and destroy this new foe before it sinks any deeper in to the flesh of my Lord!"

The pleasure and bloodlust in the Princes' voice are easily audible as he shouts to the crowds.

"Any who are strong and able should report to me NOW! We need strength to defeat this new foe, in any and every measure we have! Quickly, before more of Lord Malfeas' flesh is desecrated by this invader!"

[Draken]

Jarak

Drilling, now what might that be.

Nonetheless, with a swipe of his tail, Jarak delivers the Prince to the streets, settling down on his coils while looking towards the upper layer.

"Only the metody will be useful here if I am to fight to my best. For I do such under the storm of Vitriol."

"For that matter. Come close, you, and take my blessing. The Malfean element will take away the dross that ravages you and make your flesh wholesome as it should."

If the prince and the Maiden accept, Jarak will use Endowment on them, granting the charm Blessed (Element) Body, attuned to Vitriol.

If Markarth and the Huntress approach as well, Jarak will also Endow them.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

Markarth looked up as the sound of the Drilling echoed in his ears a wide smile covered his face. How exciting, Yes yes, let us see what wonders and horrors you bring.

Then that loudmouth below started yelling, Markarth lowered himself slowly and spoke to this 'Prince'.

"And why pray tell should we be commanded by you?" Markarth kneeled slightly on his platform smirking down at the prince. However his smirk disappeared at the sight of the Vitriol dragon. "Ah so the Dragon of Vitriol stands by your side? Now that is different, I suppose I'll follow your direction for now. As long as it keeps me entertained."


Spending two Peripheral Essence for First SWLIHN Excellency. 'Analyzes every variable.' Perception+Awareness to see what else I can learn.

[roll0]

[Mechanix]

"Ah, and there we go," the masked woman says with a chuckle, "already fighting over who gets to lead. Pride and arrogance have always been the hallmark of the Exalted." She shrugs, a motion which sends ripples and rustling sounds through her bejeweled strand-dress, and adds: "This shape is not skilled at war. A mortal sargeant, at best. I will serve, and you will lead. Do not disappoint me... or your bleak masters. The latter might spell your doom. The former would only annoy a fae, and who would care?" She whirls comically on herself and disappears, reappearing a dozen yards later under a shower of vitriol.

"Oh, to dance in a rain of green fire... All right, I am ready." Vitriol drips down the threads of her dress and taints her jewels, but she does not seem to mind; in her hand appears a glittering rapier, and she watches the skies where burns the heart-soul of the Demon City. And watches. And watches.

"The waiting game sucks."

[DukeGod]

It seemed everyone was taking the air. She couldn't simply stay in the ground like this

Oh well, no choice but to go up it seemed. The huntress takes one of her flying forms, the one of a Garda Bird

Human legged with six arms, and flaming wings, talons and head of an eagle, it was somewhat appropriate to the current location. She drops two of the fire swords that are held in the hands to graps at her scythe, than takes the air, getting close to the vitriol dragon only so long as necessary to gain his blessing before flying farther away

The sound that came from the roof. It seemed like a drill? Someone digging through...through what? There was nothing above the layers of Malfeas!
It was ridiculous enough. She just waits

21m for the Garda Bird form. Yeah XD
Flame Hazard Body 4 (4p)
Additional Arm 4 (12p)
Ambidextrous (1p)
Flier (4p)

Personal: 25/25
Peripheral: 27/60 (12 Commited)

[Recaiden]

Demons gather round, heeding a call of a Prince among Princes and one of the few Dragons of their hellish Element. The more patriotic and impressionable among them; this is not their fight, is it? Most continue the flight.

And then the huntress erupts in flames and silver, a many-limbed horror not out of place here, but instantly recognizable; the third face of the Garda birds, the Shape of Fear. Agatae previously flitting by on their wings fold space around themselves to vanish from before the monster, anhules skitter to hide in the edges of the canals, and generally only the most confident think that this terror is one of hell's own.

((If Huntress flying upwards, or just around?))

Markarth notes the metodykin clouds moving purposefully above them, circling about a particular place, a cathedral of shell and iron with many leg-like butresses. The roof-shell is nearly at the same speed as the central layer on which they stood; Malfeas and Isidoros take care to keep this place stable, no matter how irritating it gets. The two approach with glacial speed; in a few eons they might collide, but for now it's as close to a roof above as one gets (outside of actual roofs).

There is a terrible crash; faraway above you. Unlucky members of the audience recognize the cataclysmic sound of a layer splitting.
Except not quite. This was a sharp crack, not the creaking separation when Malfeas requires a new layer of armor against himself. If you didn't know better you'd say a layer had indeed split, vertically, cracked like a plate.

[Draken]

Jarak

The vitriolic dragon hissed to the sky.

"Unthinkable through it might seen, the enemy bores through the layers of Malfeas in his approach."

"Bleed the heavens my little brothers and sisters. Weep the all-dissolving hate of our greatfather that it consume this interloper when it rears its impious head!"

Jerak screeches, gathering a great many dark, caustic clouds.

Personal Essence: 74/92 motes//8 committed/100 total

8 motes spent Endowning Markarth, IPoB, Huntress and Maiden (2 each, presuming everyone took the endownment.

10 motes. Control Weather. Jarak is starting to gather an acid storm!

[Priest_Of_Banjo]

Indomitable Prince of Battle

The Prince, having gathered what forces he could, turns his head to his dragon compatriot.

"My thanks, Jarak. Now, let me prepare..."

The Prince rolls his head around a few times, stretching out the muscles in his shoulders as he does so. He focuses, holding a neutral stance as he does so. A bronze alloy, apparently glowing green, slithers and writes its' way over the Princes' armour but he does not stir. When the process has finished, the Prince merely looks up, towards the noise.

"Let this foe come. Malfeas shall not fall, not on this day."

The grin returns as the Prince mentally utters his own personal battle cry and draws his spear.

Glory to the combatants.


Essence - 10m and 1wp spent of Viridian Legend Exoskeleton.
Personal: 18/28
Peripheral: 48/61 (13 attuned)

Willpower at 7.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

Markarth decides to shield up as well, he smiles as he punches his fists together, a fine patina of blue-green tarnish spreading like mold over his body. A moment later it flakes away and reveals a durable layer of shining brass. But he doesn't stop there, that swirl of glass and fire that makes up his anima crystallizes around him, glowing with the power of his Essence. He sits on his disk smirking.


Viridian Legend Exoskeleton

10m, 1WP

Force Suppression Barrier

4m

The barrier provides a shield DV equal to my Essence rating so +4. While in my Barrier telekinetic attacks using Mind-Hand Manipulation. are at DV -0. Whenever a Ranged attack completely misses me the projectile slows to a stop as the shield strips all energy and inertia from it and drops harmlessly to the ground as the tick ends.

[Mechanix]

"You Chosen and your Charms..." The fae sighs deliberately, whirling gracefully in the air. "You should do like me, make your shape perfect so that it is always at its peak." Which, actually, kinda bores her right now, since she cannot dramatically put on a regalia of Essence. Any minion she could shape into existence at this moment would be too feeble, and she does not know the task at hand yet. Can they really hope to fight whatever is piercing through the skies of Malfeas? That seems impossible.

And thus, a legendary feat worthy of the Fair Folk. The Maiden crosses her arms, and hundreds of diamond-coated threads unravel from her body, turning to shimmering dew and and tiny crystals... which then gather into geometrical crystal panels orbiting around her as shields; she unfolds her arms and white fire runs down her blade and in the air in front of its tip.

"I guess one cannot go wrong by making oneself a better fighter."

Mercurial Demon Shape, enhancing Dexterity+Melee, 15m 1wp.

Perception roll: [roll0]

[Recaiden]

Clouds gather with greater frequency, swirling clouds of acidic hate fueled by the dragon's power. It is a curious thing, to see clouds in Malfeas, for they do not block Ligier's light nearly as surely clouds block the light of Creation's sun, merely giving an acrid yellow cast to the light streaming down.

A first few raindrops fall upwards towards the layer, their acid too dilute as yet to do any harm. Beneath this, the cathedral picks itself up, folding it support columns into limbs and lifting itself up to scuttle away over smaller buildings. A number of curious serfs gather around the pit and tunnel entrances it left behind; the grinding sound is much clearer and closer through there.

And then something comes. In the depths of the layer above there is movement. Impossible things rush up out of the pit, swarming through from the other side of the layer, and tear into battle with the crowd. Steel cannot hold in Malfeas, but these things have gleaming metallic shells of the stuff. They are odd, looking as much mechanical as living, this one bleeds but there, that one drips oil, here one is snapping at a tomescu's leg with sharp teeth, here is one cutting into a blood ape with a spinning saw. Each one is smooth, insectoid, and asymmetric.
And behind them, emerging in the center of this group, is a more familiar shape. This man could be an Infernal, though just what charms and demonic infusions would produce that strange collection of features, you cannot say. Pointed adamant crystals and plates of moonsilver armor extend from his skin, exposed nerve bundles sprout from the back of his neck to connect with grafted biomechanical claws arching over his shoulder, a gem in the center of his forehead visibly glows with essence charge. His left arm has been replaced with a massive essence cannon of corrupted red jade, warped glyphs in old realm spelling out stories of destruction. His face remains perfectly normal, perfectly human. He looks up at the layer below him and smiles.


There's a fight, initially on a scale you could deal with. Most of the monsters are extras, although a few with full statistics will emerge soon. And then of course there's this guy.

Rolls of Perception + Occult to figure out about what the enemies are and some possible weaknesses or strengths.
and Wits + War may reveal some interesting things about the fight with the bystanders and the enemies' tactics.

[Mechanix]

Finally, the thick of the action! There is a glimmer in the Maiden's sapphire eyes, and calmly she starts walking up towards the above layer on a staircase of diamond threads. Here, for so long, she has embodied the Ring; worker and artisan. Now it is time to live by the Sword; warrior and strategos. Reason and logic dictate that she should come down upon these strange insects of metal, who cannot harm her; but obeying such dictates would be trite, boring, and she cannot bear the thought. All she will afford herself - as befits her Caste - is a moment of tactical consideration, the better to then direct her attention to that strange Exalted-looking individual.

Her free hand opens and in a flicker of white fire appears a translucent crystal sphere; to a command of her mind it widens and flattens, hovering before her eyes, and she uses it as an amplifying glass to get a better look at the fighting above, while she uses Essence to imbue her thoughts with the cold rationality and calculation of the Pyrian Flame. Calculate numbers, identify enemy types, select points of weakness. Watch the prey, then strike with lethal force.

Perception + Occult + 3m spent on World-Shaper Echoing Stance:
[roll0]
Stunt: [roll1]
Wits + War:
[roll2]
Stunt: [roll3]

[Draken]

An infernal, and demons perhaps? But nothing that Jarak is familiar with, no, no, no.

The dragon raises his frills, venting corrosive vapors into the surroundings. At the same time, the gathering puddles of Malfean element bubble and hiss around and they assemble into five rings circling around the dragon.

Activating Hazard Body!

Activating Affinity Vitriol Control! All instances (Damage, Weapon and Hazard) for 18 motes!

Jarak's Hazard Body goes up to Trauma 5 and Damage 9L thanks to AVC.

Perception + Occult
[roll0]

Wits+War
[roll1]

Mote pool:
Personal Essence: 56/92 motes//8 committed/100 total

[Seanfall]

Markarth's smile nearly consumed his face, he stood up in his little bubble. He couldn't stand the waiting the hushed whispers the bated breath. Clapping his hands together his anima began to glow even stronger, debris from the ground lifted up. He lashed out at the ground with his telekinetic blade's to carve up pieces of gravel and stone. Discarded trash, bone even the debris falling from the sky all rose up, sped toward him and began to spin in a storm around him spinning faster and faster.

"Let me carve them up."

Markarth dashed up his barrier now surrounded by a swirling storm of debris nearly 4 yards in size. He charged at the swarm of metallic beings lashing out with his mind cast in a blade of thought and will.


Percep + Awareness
[roll0]

Activating Orbital Impact storm for 5 motes.
This creates an environmental hazard (Damage 4L/Action, Trauma 2) that covers a sphere with a radius of (Essence 4) yards around the character. Even blunt objects inflict lethal damage at the speed generated by Orbital Impact storm. Opponents may safely navigate the storm if their dodge DV is higher then the Inerfnal's (Willpower x 2 so: 16) Additionally, it becomes difficult to target the infernal through the whirling maelstrom, as blades are knocked askew and arrows snapped in half before they can reach my flesh; attacks suffer an external penalty of (Infernal's Essence divided by 2, so...2. ) Normally, Action-interval environmental hazard exposure resolves after the victim's DV refreshes but before anyone acts on the tick. However the storm created by this charm damages victims after resolving all actions taken during the tick, meaning that characters agile enough to avoid the debris must take care not to penalize their Dodge DV to the point that they get hit.

Also as a Diceless misc action I can end the charm voluntarily. Or I can spend 5 motes to hurl shrapnel in all directions as a one-time environmental hazard. (Damage 5L, Trauma 3) with a Radius of Willpower x 5 so 35 yards) this terminates the charm and does not count as a charm activation. Opponents may avoid the debris outright if their dodge DV is higher than the Infernal's (WP+Essence = 11).

Attack with Telekinetic Blade: WP+Occult
[roll1]

Damage if hit
4L with an Overwhelming rating of 2. I don't know if str applies to this but str is equal to Essence so +4 damage.

Join Battle
[roll2]

[Draken]

Jarak hisses.

"Devas of an unchained primordial, attuned the unknown elements, reeking of death and disease! Trying to capture the first circle serfs... Why, oh why?"

The Dragon unfurls his wings and takes to the sky after Markarth.

"Gather the vitriolic rain however you can and use it to strike at them! It should bear the best results, like so!

Jarak opens his maw and assembles the five rings of vitriol under his command ahead of the gathering orb of elemental essence, before unleashing a filthy, orange-tinted torrent of energy at as many of the invaders as possible, with no concern for any serfs in the way, no concern for anyone he blessed before either.

Join Battle:
[rollv]10d10/rollv]

Jarak will flurry a Dragon's Suspire followed by activating the Principle of Motion Charm (because I forgot to put it up preemptively, haha. Derp). Overall a Speed 6, DV -3 set of actions.

Flurry Action 1:
Dragon's Suspire (Dex+Archery) (-2 from the flurry) (Stunt dice)
[roll0] (Stunt) [roll1]
The damage, thanks to AVC is 9L + extra successes. This is an area blast that is 10 yards long and 5 yards wide.

Flurry Action 2:
Activating Principle Of Motion: 5 motes, 1 Willpower.
Jarak now has 10 banked actions to flurry later.

It is worth mentioning that anyone who gets within 1 yard of Jarak is subject to his Vitriolic Body, again a Trauma 5, damage 9L hazard.
Anyone with the Blessed Vitriol Body charm (which Jarak handed out earlier) can get in this area to grab some free healing/motes!

Edit: Gonna simplify mote tracking.

Willpower: 14/15
Motes: 51/92

[Mechanix]

"Oh, I understand very well how one would want those serfs. I find them quite tasty myself."

From their strange, alien aesthetics, she had thought for a moment that maybe... But no. Shaped creatures, anathema to the Chaos she embodied. Such deception. They had to be slain now, before they were allowed to establish a beachhead and encroach on her delightful little realm of disorder and chaos-with-a-little-l.

This was not just a fight. This was a crusade, and the thought filled her with delight. She waited just a moment, for the terrible vitriolic dragon to have unleashed his attack - then in the confusion that followed the attack, she flickered out of sight and appeared in the middle of the heap of mangled, dissolving bodies, sword in hand, shield hanging lazily by her side. Her sapphire eyes set on the strange Infernal, and she started walking.

A buzzsaw broke against her skin. A leg flailed at her and missed by a mile. She did not bother to defend against such feeble attacks. Idly she struck around her - and with each blow the white fire of the Pyrian Flame cleansed the corruption of these twisted beings. Her moves were sure, and swift, and freckles of blood soon stained her ivory mask.

Her eyes did not leave the invader.

Join Battle: [roll0]
Bastion of the Heart makes the Maiden invulnerable to attacks not enhanced by stunts or magic. I assume this include most extras.
A flurry of three attacks delivered at random monsters blocking her path to Magical Material Guy:
Attack 1: [roll1]
Attack 2: [roll2]
Attack 3: [roll3]
Base damage is 11L for all.

[DukeGod]

She couldn't analyze the creatures or their tactics.

But she could deal with their leader

The Huntress makes a beeline for the Infernal, leaving a trail of fire behind her. So, as fast as she can, she gets close enough to feel the things's breath!

Join Combat!
[roll0] - 4 sux
Now let's see who's the scariest monster

[Recaiden]

Crack. An insect falls neatly in two, sliced perfectly in half. The broken body collapses to pieces and sweeps up around Markarth, becoming part of his telekinetic shield. Three of its comrades turn to him, a much more interesting specimen than a common demon.

Beside him, a wave of acid crashes into the battlefield, eating into the invaders and defenders alike. A few hardy demons climb out of the wash of vitriol, but of the insects that fell under the wave, there is no trace left.

And sliding in its wake, a glittering, perfect Maiden, gliding along the strings of the world. Here a beetle melts, there a gear-filled crab explodes into points of light. Seeing that they cannot harm her, the things scatter away, falling back towards their master.

Speaking of the man, he watches his forces fall with the same slight smile, and lifts his cannon. Taking careful aim at the approaching monstrosity of flame, the jade wheels start to spin, gathering visible spirals of essence. Steel prongs extend from the base, and rotating the opposite way, add arcs of lighting to the crackling ball of energy at the cannon's core. The light as it fires briefly eclipses Ligier below above.

So I was probably not clear about this. He is an Alchemical, not an Infernal. Let's just call him an Exalt.

[DukeGod]

The blast of light engulfs and the heat touches her. It burns deeply, but nothing that is out of the ordinary. As a Huntress she has faced much much worse, wether it be hunting for her forms on when she was in the Wyld before turning intio a Lunar. Venomous bites and creatures that crushed her bones. The burns are nothing

Tinting the red flame of the Garda Bird with silver, the Huntress quickly and expertly moves all her arms as someone used to doing it, grabbing onto several parts of the Exalt's body.

Her own scyte, she passes beneath one of his arms into his back, to stop him from retreating

I Grapple
MWAHAHAHA
Using 5 motes for a Strength Excellency
Strength (5) + MA (3) + Exc (5) - Wound (2)
[roll0] - 4 sux

Essence
Personal: 25/25
Peripheral: 22/60 (12 commited)

Health
-0 [B]
-1 [B][B]
-2 [B]x8, [ ]x9
-4 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-X [ ]
Dying [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]

[Draken]

The dross of the enemy army effortlessly unraveled, Jarak bursts into motion towards the Huntress and the enemy with whom she grapples, come to encircle them and let his caustic essence wash over the two.

"Count my blessings, Lunar, and let the Malfean element dissolve your weakness!"

Even as he speaks, he once more gathers the falling rain ahead of his maw in an orb of vitriolic essence. Before unleashing it over Huntress and the enemy exalt in an even more brilliant, sickening blast.

+4 motes from last stunt. 55/92 motes available.

Huntress and the alchemical are now in the area of Jarak's Hazard Body, Trauma 5, 9L damage. She can use Blessed Vitriol Body to perfect it away for 2 motes and recover 1 HL or one mote for every three points of Raw damage blocked, namely, any combination of motes and health levels that adds up to 3.

And Jarak draws one action from his pool to create a magical flurry of two actions. The first is activating his offensive and defensive instances of Essence Bite for 10 motes each. Causing any creature that strikes him or is struck by him to eat 5 health levels worth of Lethal damage per blow, no raw damage roll there, just outright damage.

The second is Dragon's suspire on Huntress and the Alchemical. Again, she can use Blessed Vitriol Body to perfect it away for 2 motes and regain health and motes based on the raw damage absorbed, which is 9 plus successes (plus 5 from essence bite, I suppose)!

Attack Roll: DRAGON'S SUSPIRE (Stunt - No way this will be a 3-die so I won't even roll the third, hah)
[roll0] ([roll1])

Just noticed that suspire costs motes and WP so gonna add the cost from last turn.

Motes: 25/92
Willpower: 12/15

Boy, spirits bleed motes during their offensive setup. Good thing all the charms are scene long.

[Mechanix]

The raksha know the wisdom in bidding one's time; much like they had waited centuries for Creation to be a fruit ripe for the plucking, so today did the Maiden wait for the perfect spot. The Huntress provided a useful distraction, focusing her opponent's attention and his defenses - but the moment she was waiting for when the Dragon of Vitriol struck again, drowning the battlefield in a tide of poisoned flames. Until then the Maiden had circled around the opponent, trying to put herself behind his back.

One attack... A sphere of vitriol... An explosion... And then she springs into motion, holding the sword at her waist, darts through the fading wave of green Essence, draws the blade, strikes - once, trailing white fire which freezes into crystal in the wound, races past the foe, stops; whirls gracefully on her toes, reveals the smile of her ivory mask to her opponent and prey, and completes her fluid movement by bringing back the sword for a slash to the throat.

Her only regret is that the fight is happening too fast for her to taunt him properly.

Simple flurry of two attacks, using the slashing sword. Speed 4.
[roll0] ([roll1])
[roll2] ([roll3])

[Seanfall]

Markarth

Looking up at the gathering swarm, Markarth chuckles. "Cute..now... Then a blinding flash, and the Moon-Akuma launched herself at the enemy commander. "Hey...hey...I WAS GONNA KILL HIM!" he suddenly roars, he scrapes his foot against his floating disk of will and the swirling storm which he commands dashes forth he doesn't pay the swarm any heed letting them break upon the whirling chaos around him. His focus is squarely on the commander.

He swerves behind the thing and smiles, madness blazes in his eyes as his anima glows with the light of hell. "The spheres broke upon reality, but their truths still exist Let me show you a forgotten horror." his voice deepened in the end. Raising his hands, he makes several old realm symbols while speaking in nonsense phrases and tones. Finally he throws back his arms cackling madly. Rainbow lighting coursed from his body striking up at the mechanical figure.



an Earlier post on this same page has the stats for my orbital impact storm.

Principle Invoking Onslaught! (I forgot to add Accuracy last time. >.<)

Attack roll
[roll0]

If successful I have shaped an instant duration damaging phenomenon into existence to injure the target.

Damage
8L (4L base + 4 str = to Essence)

[Recaiden]

The man folds his claws over and braces them against the incoming Lunar, and turns to the side to throw her off. One claw smashes aside her grasping arms, and the other blocks the scythe, throwing off a brief shower of sparks, and then she is cast away. His smile grows.

His moonsilver armor flows flows down along his humanoid arm, branching out into a shield which slices into the oncoming flow of vitriol and splashes it aside. One of his minions suffers some minor burns, though most knew enough to leave him to the fight, but the man himself stands unharmed.
"Is this the best you've got?"

He soon receives an answer. Numerous tiny human eyes open around the rim of his head and watch the Maiden as she circles about him, but the speed of her attack catches him by surprise. The blade slips in past his warding claws-and is thrown back, as with a flash of light a shell of moonsilver flows out from his skin and hardens, giving him the momentary appearance of a solid statue. For the second strike, he is ready, and a claw shoves her blade off-line, above his head.
"Better."

A storm of torn brass fragments and rubble crashes into him, or perhaps it was an enemy. Stumbling back in the wake of the onslaught, he nevertheless raises a clawed hand to catch the rainbow arc, which spirals away into a fragment of adamant set in his palm.
"Interesting. Let me show you a horror we remember well."

His cannon starts to spin again, gathering essence and bits of vitriolmist from the air around him into a swirling storm of energy. But before he fires, he turns to Markarth, and lunges into the swirling cloud to tear at the Infernal within. His claws snap down, again, again, and again. Though lethal in their own right, they are just a distraction. He flexes his hand, and a moonsilver panel swings open to extend a long, needle-sharp spike, which is driven straight towards our Infernal's chest. Only then, when he has tested himself against this opponent, does he fire, a brilliant beam of essence once again striking out form Markarth's cloud towards the Huntress.

The machines follow him into the storm, snapping and grasping, but they fight without skill or coordination, and his telekinesis easily wards them off.

Roll against Orbital Impact Storm [roll0]

Cannon: [rollv]20d10/rollv]
Claws: [roll1] -2 sux from OIS (there are several claws but they all count as one attack) BOTCH!
Spike: [roll2] -2 sux

Wait you're not wearing armor; ignore this roll [rollv]4d10/rollv]

[DukeGod]

Borrowing from the magic of the dragon as the vitriol raged around her, the Huntress absorbs it and converts it into healing for herself

But soon after that, the damned being seens to have started attacking the other members of the group. And fired yet another blast at her. The healing helped but the blast injured her again

So, she goes for a devastating blow against it. She flies above towards the layer, and there, planting her feet on it, boosts herself down towards the Exalt

Like a hell lance, as she falls, the Huntress brings once more her power, this time to her weapon. The scythe grows, moonsilver groaning as its semi-protean capability is called upon. With a spin to gather momentum, and with extreme force, she rams the scythe deep in the chest of the Exalt, and flungs him away, into almost the edge of the storm

That's 4 motes total against boht attacks. Thankfully, Draken rolled ridiculously, healing 11 health levels (35/3 is almost 12. But eh, I only took 11 damage aniway >.<). After that I get blasted with another 7. Still at -2 Wound

Now, for the attack, I chose against the flurry and instead decided to make a big sure hit (hopefully)
That's Enthusiastically Oversized Weapon Practice (+Str to Damage, Overwhelming +1)(4m) + Excessive Force Technique (sucess on my attack roll are doubled for damage! Also he gets knocked back (Strength) yards. 5 in this case), and I'm throwing in a 10m First Strength for that bucket of dice
Total: 17m
Merely 19 dice
[roll0]
Stunt [roll1] - 7 sux (argh, bad roll)

Damage is tricky cause of what I might exceed from his DV. I'll just roll raw and you roll the rest. Whatever exceeds teh DV gets doubled =D

[roll2] Raw Damage - 14 sux. Much better

Which brings me to
Motes
Personal: 25/25
Peripheral: 5/60 (12 commited)

Health
-0 [B]
-1 [B][B]
-2 [B]x4 [ ]x13
-4 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
-X [ ]
Dying [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]

[Draken]

"You are unworthy of my best, invader. Like all things you will but dissolve in my presence."

Jarak encircles the alchemical, thick vitriolic smog billowing from his body and engulfing the intruder. It stings the eyes, it burns the throat, it sears skin, it eats flesh, it erodes bone, it consumes steel and lead and the magical materials, it destroys the mind, the Hun, the Po and the exaltation. There is nothing in the mist, there is no beginning and there is no end.

It is a trick, that is for sure. But it is a killer trick.

Mote pool: 29/92

20 Motes. Hoodwink. 20 successes vs Mental Dodge, before considering potential stunts.

Eh, you know the effects.

[Mechanix]

Swords failed. Vitriol failed. The scythe failed.

If her mask had not been so rigid, the Maiden would have smiled.

"Will you not introduce yourself, stranger?" Her voice resonates across their small portion of battlefield like diamonds falling on silk, and she flickers out of sight - only to reappear in the air, standing tall in front of the leaping opponent, eyes glimmering. "The Courts of Madness bid you welcome all the same." And then she strikes - but not at him. She strikes the air, and for a briefest second reality screams in agony as the Maiden explodes in fine red mist.

From a wound in the air surges another Maiden, her form streaked with blood, her eyes of ruby and her sword black as night. She laughs andstrikes at the chest, blunt and straightforward, sword blazing with white fire.

Red mist and vitriol mingle and whirl into the shape of a second Maiden, drenched in black blood, her eyes of emerald and her sword a rapier of purest crystal; she appears above and behind her opponent and thrusts her blade at the base of his neck.

The agony scream of the world becomes vibration, and that vibration takes form as a third Maiden, flesh translucent and shot through with yet more blood, eyes of diamond and holding an enormous staff of white-burning diamond - which she smashes into her opponent with a strength to shake the heavens.

And then suddenly all three Maidens are gone, dissolving into fine mist, and reforming into a single sapphire-eyed fae which laughs from within the acrid smoke.

Transcendent Pincer of Time and Space + Endless Armies of the Sorm, 2m 1g. Magical flurry of three attacks, which inflict a -3 DV coordinated attack penalty in addition to the normal onslaught penalty. Going to channel Valor on the last blow. If none of this is worth a 2-die stunt, I will spend 1 stunt die to enhance the last one. Spending 1m to reflexively summon the grace-tetsubo and 1m to dismiss it again. Speed 6.
[roll0]([roll1])
[roll2]([roll3])
[roll4]([roll5])

[Seanfall]

Markarth

The thing had tried to burst through his storm and strike him, but it's battering winds kept him at bay. Now was the time for a new tactic, a new method, he smiled and held his hands up near him. As always his thoughts turned to that day.


Salt on the wind

Blood in the air

He screams She screams
We scream
He killed her I killed her
We killed her!

His face distends and he howls with rage, Vitrol thick and black boils up from the space around his storm, it spirals out as he directs it to the mechanical man. Attempted to hold and keep him within the bashing storm, to let him be worn away by it's winds and debris.


Principle Invoking Onslaught - Clinch with Vitrol streams.
Cost: 1M 1WP

Activating First Kimbry Excellency, he's being held in Vitrol to slowly wear him away like the sea against the mountain. While remembering a time he both hates and loves. cost: 9 Essence
[roll0]

Damage: 4B/2 Overwhelming tag.
raw damage
[roll1]

[Recaiden]

The man stumbles through the vitriolic fog, struggling to remember where he is or what he’s doing as all he is dissolves away, but the Huntress’s motion forces him back to the present. He settles solidly against the ground and lifts his cannon-arm before the massive incoming scythe, meeting the unstoppable strike with an unbreakable defense, and once again pushes her aside.

But he falls back under the maiden’s onslaught, even his numerous eyes unable to keep up when he finds himself suddenly surrounded. One, two, three, the strikes fall at the same time.
“Haha! Very good. I am Hand of the Void, and-” His claws move with impossible speed, glistening in the green light, as they throw off the coiling streams of vitriol that seek to encircle him. “-and I am pleased to see that there is still worthy prey in Malfeas.”
His human hand snaps and points ahead of him. They were just welcomed in. Out of the darkness of the pit behind him lumber a trio of metallic creatures. Two look like giant, warped statues of blood apes, built of rusting iron and brought to life through an infusion of actual blood which still stains their features. Each with one arm massively larger and stronger than each other, the two seem to be mirror images. The third has the formless fluid grace of a metody, but it is composed of blood and black oil swirling about each other, never mixing.

Sparks gather around the gem set in his head as the man rebuilds himself for serious battle before your eyes. Moonsilver cables and bundles of muscle sprout from his flesh and twist to reinforce his limbs, which are covered over with plates of adamant armor. The jade rings of his cannon twist and reassemble themselves into a long bulbous barrel that can channel greater energy. Miniature gears chains and pistons assemble themselves along his back, hooking into his claws to enhance the speed with which they can strike. The thin, surgical spike that sprouted from his wrist extends outward, its moonsilver edges flowing to create channels and serrations; it is a killing weapon now. Two bundles of wires sprout from the top of Hand’s neck and plug into his ears and stab into the flesh beneath his many eyes; he regains his former steady stance, ignoring the mist of vitriol and the drops of acid rain starting to patter down onto the battlefield. Electric arcs dance along his limbs, and crackle outward to wrap the orbiting debris of Markath’s field in white lightning. A pale oil is dripping from the two cuts the Maiden inflicted, but around his joints, the man’s skin glistens with a thin blood-red coating. As he finally moves to attack, the lightning reaches from his body all around the battlefield, illuminating everything in a harsh silver glow.

“Well then. Surely you and your allies at least deserve my best, wyrm.”

The cannon flashes, sending out three bursts of light, two towards the arrogant elemental and one brighter blast towards this stubborn Lunar. His claws strike almost of their own accord at each other opponent, testing the Fae's defenses and trying to create an opening against the Infernal for his true attack, the blade which he stabs up into Markarth's chest.

He’s perfecting away the clinch, using an extra action charm, using his full dicepool, upping his damage, using a penalty negator, channels Valor on some attacks, and probably more!

And here's those elite gremlins I promised.

8 sux Light Cannon at Jarak [roll0]
12 sux Light Cannon at Jarak [roll1]
11 sux Light Cannon at Huntress [roll2]

At Maiden
8 sux Claws [roll3]
17 sux Claws [roll4]
15 sux Claws [roll5]

At Markarth
7 sux Claws [roll6]
9 sux Claws [roll7]
12 sux Claws [roll8]
11 sux Spike [roll9]

[Mechanix]

Crystalline laughter echoes as the first blow reaches her, oversized claws raking across the surface of her Ring-grace bracer, colossal strength meeting its kind and throwing off sparks.

"Void? Prey? When Oblivion marched upon the world, we drowned it! And so will I drown you!"

Arrogance. The second strike is more accurate, adapting to her moves - so she adapts her own. She leads with the sword as if she intended to meet it headlong, then suddenly drops it and twists to the side, contorting so that the claw barely meets her bracer - with still enough strength to send her reeling, but with a thought the strands are there to hold her as she's pushed back; the third blow she must resist with all her body, both arms bracing against the shock, and she takes a step back, inhaling sharply.

"...but yeah, you're good. I like that. You will be tasty."

[Draken]

With a beat of his wings and a crash of his tail, Jarak leaps back from the first shot, raising debris-drenched acid foam to block the path of the blast.

"Don't make me laugh, creature."

The second shot finds the dragon crouching against the cobblestones of Malfeas and melting a trench for itself to duke the blast.

"You are the only prey in this realm!"

DEFENSIVE STUNTS. GO.

[DukeGod]

The Huntress had started to respect those bloody cannons the thing kept firing. Wishing to avoid further wounding, as newly upgraded blast comes at her, she instead meets it with her own weapon, being pushed back by the sheer force but batting it away

After that feeling drained of Essence, she chooses to instead rely on more permanent enhancements. She abandons all pretense of keeping an "existing form", and starts instead to rely on the impossibility only allowed to her through the use of several Charms. Some Elders looked down upon particularly weird combinations, and while the tought of antagonizing them was still unnerving, she supposed Oramus and the Yozi were a little bit more open towards it

So, she reaches into the deep ocean that is her soul, and literally brings forth tjhe Kraken that sleeps on it. She lets her arms grow, becoming more and more like tentacles. While her true kraken shape didn't have hands, this one had, for she had decided to leave most of the weaknesses behind. She also chooses to match the size, increasing to turn into a giant beast.

And why not push it even further? Her already weird form warps even more. Overlaying the skin is a tough and thick hide of iron scales that seems to have grow mixedly benath and over the fire skin of the Garda bird. Something in the throat unleashes a shriek that causes an unnerving ringing in the ears and spikes of hard crystal begin floating the myriad of flame and skin and monstrosity. And because that is not enough, she redesigns her wings making them more sleek, and the feathers themselves are slightly rearrenged to use the flames to push more wind back increasing the force and her flying speed. And then she starts flying back towards the Alchemical

Party time!
So first, Perfect Defense, Excessively Violent Defense Technique. That's 8m
And a roll, which I feel confident about. I was at 9m after that 2-die stunt, bringing me to 1m
[roll0] (+ stunt? [roll1])

Then it gets weird. I'm using a Shapeshift action to take on some of the mutations of my Totemic form. Since Totemic Self Announcement allows for that at Essence 3. I'm assuming Large(6), Giant(4) and Extend Arms(6) for a total of 16m. This zeroes my Peripheral and leaves me at 10m Personal

Then I activate Mythical Hero Exultant, so I'm commiting those two and assuming twice my (Essence + Appearance) in mutations. So that's 20 points of the package, going to: Natural Armor (6), Natural Plating (6), Disturbing Howl (4) and Natural Counterattack (4). Personal 8m

And since THAT's not enough, I'm also gonna activate Hybrid Body Rearrengement to get me Fast Flier 5. I probabl could do somethimng more useful, but meh >.< (I asked Blaque about this by the way. He says that it's "Use Shapeshift Action, get (Esssence) mutations". In errata aniway)

And that's all without leavinfg the Garda Bird form, because Hybrid Body Rearrengement also lets me mix and match my forms.

Motepool:
Personal: 8/25 (2 Commited)
Peripheral: 0/60 (12 commited)

Health (I gained some from the Size mutations, and changed the damange into them. I think that's how it works?)
-0 [B][B][B][B]
-1 [B][B][B][ ][ ]
-2 [ ]x19
-4 [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]

[Draken]

Jarak is sent flying back by the blasts, crashing into one of the spires of Malfeas, which begins crumbling under the dragon's weight, a cloud of dust and debris conceals the wyrm, and surely within the structure are terrified serfs being crushed or fleeing for their lives.

But an ear-melting screech announces Jarak as he erupts from the cloud of dust, barely wounded and gathering the caustic rain into himself even as he flies back to the fray at top speed.

So, Jarak still acts on the tick right after the Alchemical.

On said tick, he flurries a Dash and an Elemental Rejuvenation to move and recover one health level. This is overall a speed 3 action. His dash speed is 14 and his normal speed is 8 due to wound penalties. So he moves 30 yards in these 3 ticks. On the next tick he can act, he rejuvenates again for another health level, and arrives back on the Alchemical on the sixth tick (which is, again, after the alchemical's own action.

[Recaiden]

The man seems a bit confused by the fae's words. "Believe me. We are on the same side there. Oblivion is a solved problem. Tell me, child, why are you fighting alongside your enemies here?"

As the spike finds purchase in Markarth, there is a surge of electricity, flowing down his arm and into the unfortunate Infernal. Everything starts to go dark for him, and he can feel himself being taken away somewhere.

The man looks in some wonderment at the transforming iron garda-kraken before him.
"...you are real."
The lightning surges again, and his attention turns inward.

The swirling creature of blood and oil stretches out wings and flies itself up to the edges of the impact storm, covering its leader.

The oilimental defends other.
New tick order up in OOC, making it the Maiden's turn.
Markarth is attacked with Personality Override Spike, rolling Wits+Integrity against this:
10 sux [roll0] to not get mind-clinched.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

Markarth balked as a storm of claws came screaming through the air towards him. Blades of thought and will clashed with his brass talons, a blow and it was knocked to the side. A second came in right behind the first, his blade grated against it his barrier slowed it as it stopped inches from his body. The third he could not stop in time and it grated against his Brass skinned body.

That spike however, something about it filled him with dread, and he could not let it strike him. Or so the demon in his head told him, his hands clapped together and from his anima crystal spun into a diamond hard shield in front of him. The spike slide off of the crystal, which looked like molten glass, leaving a scar upon it.

He could not let this attack go unpunished. His mouth open in a silent scream Markarth bent and rose his hands, the ground underneath began to quake Vitrol poured from the massive pieces of malfeas which rose. "Be Crushed and melt away!" Markarth sent this Vitriol pouring stone and brass to crush and grind him away. His anima flared, surrounded by a burning swirl of crystal and mist, glowing with the light of hell a mini sun surrounded by a storm.


Counter-Conceptual Interposition - 6m (+1wp) if I suffer the Imperfection.

Principle Invoking Onslaught - Malfean stone and brass bleeding Vitriol - 1m (1wp)

First Kimbry Excellency - 9m

Clinch: [roll0]

Raw Damage

4B [roll1]

Overwhelming 2
[roll2]


Anima Display now at 28m. Anima power automatically engaged not counting what I'd have to spend essence on.

[Mechanix]

A brief moment of hesitation, then the Maiden chuckles. "Perhaps you stumbled into the wrong realm. This is Malfeas, land of chaos and madness; a home for me. There is no Daystar, no Oblivion or Void - no enemies of mine here. Save for you, invader." She steps back lightly as more vitriol pours and rubbles collapse; the strange creature now shielding the Exalt would make her attacks pointless. Instead she throws her head back, invoking a secret name repeated like a mad mantra, and the hazy jewel set in her chest glows with inner light. She opens her arm wide, and a crushing aura, an authority far beyond her own, reaches through her like through a doorway; she looks down, and her sapphire eyes shine mercilessly, and she whispers the name that crushes all individuality, the name before which mind simply shut down, lest they be shattered. Her voice echoes across the battlefield, but only one man can hear her call.

Using the Gem of Sleep; activation roll is Manipulation + Socialize at a difficulty of (target's Essence,) spending 5m on Worldshaper Echoing Stance. If successful, Magical Material Guy/Hand of Void must roll Willpower at a difficulty of (roll's successes) to avoid falling asleep.
[roll0] ([roll1])

[Recaiden]

The man nods when his spike meets the conjured shield; he expected as much. He knows he can wear them away. He stubbornly refuses to be crushed and melt away, arcs of lightning and his flickering-quick claws shoving the flows of brass and vitriol back into the ground they were rising from.
Then the name falls upon him, an invocation of one of his most hated enemies. His many eyes glow and spark with the effort of resisting it, wires snap from carrying too much essence, and his eyes all close as he falls several feet to collapse on the broken ground.
The monsters shielding him flee towards the pit; they were not to stay if he was himself defeated.

A few seconds pass, and it becomes clear that he won't be waking easily.

Far away, the grinding sound ceases, and an immense silence echoes down.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

The brass and vitriol falls to the ground as Markarth releases his hold, lazily he floats down. A swipe of his hand and the storm ends, pausing in the air for a moment before falling to the ground a rain of debris and torn bodies. His barrier fractures before being swept back up into anima, though he still glows it is starting to fade only his brass skin remains for now. If the Acidic wyrm chose to rain blessings upon them he would sweep himself up into that storm.

Blades of thought visible by the waves of telekinetic force, formed above the slumbering foe. "Dissection or destruction It's hard to choose." He doesn't yet strike, but the urge is almost overwhelming.

[Draken]

Jarak flies down towards the fall point and settles into a coil as he does.

"Well, that was an anticlimactic end, madame Fae Fiend."

Vitriol flows towards the dragon, seeping into his wounds and filling them with hateful substance. Caustic fumes still billow invitingly about him, beckoning the aches of those who bear his benefaction.

"There should be suitable restraints in the conventicle, there is no wisdom in executing this enemy before learning what he is, from whence he came, and why."

[Mechanix]

The Maiden sighs softly as the sounds of battle recede. She wipes oily blood from her sword and sheathes it, taking a moment to relax, then starts climbing down the air to the ground.

"I do not like an anticlimax, Jarak. I thought... Never mind. I called upon great powers, and it worked." As she speaks, she kneels next to the intruder, scrutinizing him. "We are going to need to restrain him. And interrogate him... Later. Once he's secure, I might... Find use... For his dreams. Yes, sleep well, my new prize; we're going to have much fun together."

[Seanfall]

Markarth

His blades closed in nearly scraping the things neck when the demon that shares his soul spoke. Don't there is much you can learn from this one. Markarth growled, and raised his blades for the strike. Wait till he's restrained then you can take him apart. Scowling, markarth whipped his hands back and sent his blades away hurling through the streets before dissipating.

A short glance around and he calls forth the nearest demon. "Someone bring me two pair of manacles the strongest we have one for his arms the other for his legs. MOVE QUICKLY!"

[Draken]

"Winded theatrics are not the ways of the of the Yozis, after all."

"Divest his weapons and armor in the while. No reason to leave an essence cannon in his grasp, after all."

[Seanfall]

Markarth

He bent low and inspected the man up close, especially the cannon. "....I don't think it's 'in his grasp' it looks like it's part of his arm." Markarth grinned chuckling to himself. "Perhaps I will get to dissect him earlier than I'd hoped."

[Recaiden]

A couple of anhules scurry off and reappear with a set of manacles, shackles, and restraints for his claws.

It would be difficult to remove the man's armor and armaments, although you could probably cut them out of his body; they're growing out of his flesh, with no clear separation. Now that he's been asleep for a moment, the armor starts to fold itself back up and be sealed away into ports under his skin, and the cannon's glow is leaving it.

[DukeGod]

The Huntress slashes out armaments and others of the damn thing. And only then she releases her form, dispelling it in silver anima

She stands in the acidic smoke of the Vitriol dragon and scrubs off some burned skin as it heals.

"Shouldn't we just rip off his limbs while we're at it? Or find some better manacles? Maybe we can melt his arms and fuse them together?"

[Draken]

"Hacking off parts seems to be a excellent option. Even the exalted are helpless if they have no limbs."

Jarak turns to the nearby metody.

"Melt down into a pool for your betters to bathe in, little ones."

[Mechanix]

The Maiden shakes her head, disapproving tone in her voice. "No, we can't amputate him. He's an honored opponent who gave us a challenge, we should show some respect. And besides, we need him to be amenable to interrogation, and really, once you've taken a man's ability to move and act, what more can you take? Simple restraints should do for now."

"Besides, we aren't out of trouble yet. There may be others like him ready to pour out of the cracks. Whatever happened to that horrible drill noise?

[Seanfall]

Markarth

"That's a good question, Raksha." He spoke in a neutral tone, when the manacles arrive he sighs and resigns himself to strapping the man up and down. Though he does direct the Demons to aide him as they restrain him. "If I was to hazard a guess, It would be because he was either a scout of a larger force. Or the one controlling the drill. If it is a case of 'they' then the lack of response has caused them to reconsider. If he was controlling the drill then his slumber caused it to cease."

After he was trussed up, Markarth lifted in his telekinetic grip. "Where should we stow him? The conventicle is not a prison." He placed the restraint on his cannon arm just above where the cannon ended. "....I hate to admit it but the Maiden is right. We can't dismember him just yet. Blunt his cannon so it cannot fire but don't take it off yet." One hand out raised to guide his clinch, the other reached back and drew his Hellwand. "If he wakes up, this will put him back to sleep." Markarth smiles a wide toothy grin.

[Recaiden]

A trio of metodies acquiese, melting into a small pool of vitriol.

The man is strapped away, safely restrained by metal and magic and demonic strength. The gem in his forehead pulses dimly, then goes dark. He's still breathing and all, so it's probably okay.

A creaking sound comes from the tower Jarak crashed into, which starts to lean slightly over. Strains of music are starting to pick up again from nearby areas of the city. The only quiet area is the tunnel that the man emerged from, evidently some passage to the layer above, and even that is faintly echoing with sounds from above.

Everyone feels a slight tug as the essence fields nearby change, drawing all the spare energy towards something far below them. If anyone has had the misfortune of visiting the underworld, it feels somewhat like the constant spiritual pressure of Oblivion.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

Markarth looked back and forth from the bubbling bath to the Prisoner, he then turns the man over to the nearby Anhules. "Hold him a minute." He turns a calm look on his face as he then breaks out into a run, strips his clothes down to his undergarments jumps, curls into a ball and lands in the melted Metody pool. An uncharistically joyous laugh, which ends upon that slight tug.

Peeking up from the bath, protected by Jarak's earlier gift. "Well that's an unpleasant feeling." Markarth pulled himself out of the bath, shaking the clinging bits off of him feeling renewed. "Thank you for that oh Wyrm of Therion-to." He smiles and redresses, checks his hellwand to make sure it's still loaded. "Now who wants to accompany me into that hole our friend made? Perhaps there's more of him where they came from?" He laughs uproariously at his mistake in speech.


Yeah the Cannon ball was silly but we needed an unserious moment. So...what do I recover? :D

[Mechanix]

The Maiden shifts nervously, balancing her sword on her shoulder. She stares at the hole in the ground, unscrutable, and thinks for a moment. "All right. I'll go with you." She taps her hearthstone, cracks her shoulders, and looks at the depths of the tunnel.

Without another word, she leaps down into it, then slows her fall and starts walking down invisible stairs into the pit.

[Draken]

Jarak brings down his frills and stops venting caustic essence for the while, reverting to his humanoid shape and approaching the hole.

"I will follow as well, you will need me if there is another like that one down there. Or better."

Wing stretched out, Jarak steps off the ledge and hovers down the hole after the Maiden.

[DukeGod]

The pool of acid was inviting. Even unprotected by the dragon's blessing of his element, no Lunar would ever turn it down

The Huntress strips down to...a two-piece swimsuit which she seems to wear? And joins the pool, relaxing

For all the time it takes for the Essence to start behaving weirdly. The infernal seemed worried enough so she took it as the kind of thing that didn't happen commonly in Hell

With a sigh, the Huntress follows. The bath was fun, but after sharing a battle with someone you can't just leave them like that. Those are the unwritten rules by which the Exalted live.

Thus, she follows, leaving her bloodied and burned clothes behind for now. The swimsuit would do, in Hell it wouldn't even look out of place.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

Good, they wanted to explore as well. Snapping a foot out he recreates his floating disk, crosses his arms and zooms down the tunnel with the others matching his speed so they moved down at the same rate. "Let us see what new hell awaits us." He laughs at the irony and idiocy of his own comment.

[Recaiden]

The new hell that awaits you is, wait for it, hell. The hole branches off to dozens of smaller underways, but the main passage downwards is always clear.
The passageway beneath the cathedral is quiet. Too quiet. You'll have to hurry here, lest its stillness be noticed. It is clear that there is nothing left alive, or you would hear music.
You come to the central chamber, a large sphere hung with innumerable ropes, set with tables and chairs and stands and pools. By some trick of the center of the layer, gravity does not simply reverse at the halfway point, but is outward, towards the room's surface, in all directions. This was clearly some common room or meeting place, or it was. Currently, the place is ruined, with signs of a battle. Blood, oil, fresh scorch marks along the walls and claw gouges and saw lines in the furnishings, the broken, unwholesome bodies of that man's minions lying here and there. No fallen demons, although since the enemies clearly passed through here...

[Seanfall]

Markarth

"Seems his minions passed through here." Markarth grabbed up a few parts of the fallen minions with his telekinetic grasp. He now sat on his disk legs dangling over the edge the back edge distorted and extended to become a rough chair.

[Mechanix]

"They came here. Won the battle. Abducted the serfs. Why would they do that?" She strides in the middle of the room, looks around. But nothing of interest; only signs of battle past. It makes her nervous. "We should hurry," she says, and crosses the room at a brisk pace.

[Draken]

"Discovering these answers is why we kept the intruder alive."

Jarak scoops up the corpse of an enemy to have a closer look at it, without stopping to move.

Intelligence + Occult to see what Jarak can tell about those things.

[roll0]

[Recaiden]

The pieces of the minions show some sort of magitechnical augmentation or bizarre nature, metal plates and small mechanisms interspersed with the flesh. The creature is a spirit, but is neither a god nor a demon nor a ghost nor an elemental. It is some new type of fae, or a soul of an unknown primordial. Given the sounding of the clock, there's little doubt. They seem to be hastily readied for fighting, not intended for it.

But there is little of interest here. Not even the shadows are alive, and you need to move quickly. The group circles around the room and climbs, and climbs, and soon enough see the light of Ligier streaming down. With it, echoing down the marble stairs that mark the end of the catacombs, comes sound: screams and shouts and song, shrieking engines and sky-tearing essence blasts and inspiring horns and ominous drums and the faint strains of harp music.
Far more than usual, the far side of the layer above the center is a madhouse. The area around this stairway has been visibly flattened, some great force knocking buildings outward like sandcastles. People are fleeing in every direction, some even making their way through the devastation towards our heroes.
In the sky, far above, the source of the essence disturbance can be clearly seen. A great gash has been torn in the flesh of the world, and you can still see the tip of the great drill that ripped through from above. Tiny shapes swarm about it in vast numbers, evidently engaged in battle. A pulse of harsh blue light comes from the drill, and crashes down many miles away, leveling a small fiefdom.

[Kobold-Bard]

Throatful of Water

Water had been at the Althing of course, quietly nervous about The Ebon Dragon being there; since he was the sole holder of authority to punish the Fiend Caste, his presence was generally taken by him to mean that one of them was about to be punished.

He was almost grateful then when the invasion took place, quickly exiting to gather his platoon of Demons and join the battle. He was not a warrior but an excellent marksman and he fired into the fray from building spires. He had recently bound Gervesin for a planned uprising he had been working on in the southern West, and the demon spear had been a great help both fending off attackers that got too close, and opening portals to allow him to move from one battlefield to the next when his positions were overtaken.

It is through one such portal that he now emerged before the circle. A ring of green fire erupted in the air and a dire lance seemingly formed of solidified Ligier's light emerged at speed, followed by Water and then a contingent of other demons before the portal sealed itself again. A single mechanical minion made it through in time, but it was damaged and quickly put down by a shot from the Infernal; his anima flaring as he loosed his arrow.

Water swiftly locked a new arrow on the string of his almost wire-thin bow, taking stock of his surroundings and spotting the circle just as the energy beam crashed down beyond them.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

"Well now we know it was a full scale attack. Not an isolated strike." Markarth drops the pieces of the drones and stands back up on his disk. "So, what shall we do?"



Okay I don't think I got an answer for this but...how much did I recover from the vitriol bath earlier?

[Mechanix]

"A new companion joins us in battle! Hola, whoever you are. Your names kinda blur together for me after a while. Handful of Blood? Was that it? Welcome, Handful!"

The Maiden is all smiles and savage joy now, staring around at the chaos that surrounds them all, taking it in like a relaxing countryside vista.

"I would say that we should assault that enormous drill, but I am an insane being from beyond the world who enjoys a good story more than a long life, so perhaps you should not heed my advice. Perhaps Mouthful of Vitriol could advise us? He was here before."

[Kobold-Bard]

Water

Recognising the Fae, Water sets his expression to neutral and speaks in a sarcastic monotone.

"Oh good. It's you."

Addressing the group at large he becomes more expressive again.

"Well personally I was looking for a Slayer to go kick Ligier into action, he's the one with the mega-sword that cuts down entire armies, he should really be doing this crap, not us.

[Draken]

"I am sure that our king's heart is busy elsewhere. Thus it falls to us, loyal subjects, to deal with this intrusion of oblivion, before the Yozis look upon it and deem it best to excise it themselves."

"With us here" is left implied.

[Seanfall]

Markarth

"Hee hee, of course they would. Why wouldn't they? If we die they can just make more after all." Markarth looked water up and down, "Since our colleague here was here first why doesn't he lead the charge?"

[Recaiden]

The spear quiets, that battle done, that portal cut. It knows Handful's mind is too strong, for the moment, to be controlled, and merely simmers at his side.

The newcomer is aware, from his quick portal-hopping traversal of the fields of battle, that this is not the only area that has been struck. Two more drills stretch above the invader, one having broken through and the other still cutting. Ligier is doubtless aware of this, and one could suppose that he might find the core of this mechanical monstrosity to be a sufficient challenge for the Sword of the Yozis.
But Throatful of Water did not see the Green Sun shining on the enemy's layer.

The ambient essence field suddenly returns to normal. A great relief, well, in one way. On the other hand, you can see a spiral of purple light spreading slowly up the drill towards its tip, then followed by another, a few degrees off, then another. It seems fairly clear that it has been draining essence to charge something and is now ready.

One of the spear's portals could get you very close, into the middle of the fight. Or you could fly up, fighting your way through more of those things. On their own, they shouldn't be very dangerous. If there is another being like Hand of the Void, though...

In front of the party, a road begins to rise up, brass and basalt slabs flowing up out of the ground and creating a winding path upwards towards the drill. Some part of The Prince Upon the Tower has given notice to you all, and you are reassured to note that his citadel on this layer is still standing, its distinctive winged shape visible on the southern horizon.

[DukeGod]

The Huntress waited. She was after all, a huntress. She wouldn't strike just like that, the enemy might see it coming. Instead, better to ready oneself.

It is as the drill starts gathering energy again, and the very ground of Malfeas starts to create a path, she decides to go for it. The time to do so was obvious, so they probably had their defenses up, but the opportunity was too good to miss

She starts running through the winding path, and soon enough, outruns it, instead, taking a leap boosting herself with a kick from the still forming road

And in the air, without changing her shape, the Huntress once more grows in size, her biggest size as a matter of fact!. With bare hands, reaching into the metal of the drill, and before it starts spinning again, summong extra strength from the Exaltation, she yanks it DOWN!

So, that's Large and Giant again, but I'll let go of it soon enough I think. And the First Strength Excellecny, at 5m(which is my dicecap. I was using 10m in the fight against Hand of the Void. My mistake >.<)
I think it's a Feat of Strength to pull it down through the layer?
Well, it's 8 from Strength + Athletics, +10 from Large and Giant and another 5 added by the Excellency, for a total of 23. Not as high as I hoped, but, as high as I can make it go

15m to Shape**** and Excellency

Personal: 11/25
Periphera: 0/60 (12 Commited)

[Recaiden]

The Huntress races up the path, which speeds up and narrows as it goes, attempting to keep up with her, but she outraces the path. The charging Lunar crashes through the defenses around the drill, more of those malformed spirits swatted aside like gnats, and rips into the drill, its metal breaking before her essence-charged fingers.
She takes hold of it and pulls. The drill is massive, and strong.
She's stronger.
It starts to move, and once she gets it lifting there's surprisingly little resistance. Huntress starts to pull the drill through, and behind it come long, interlocking segments of metal, an armored mechanical tendril extending up through the layer and connecting to...something. It's slack, moving freely, with distance to go before it stretches, much less tears.
The essence spiral reaches the break she's made and violet sparks start to fly around the edges, unable to complete their circuit.
The drill was hanging loosely below her, massive but not beyond her power to lift, when that happened, and now, the tendril connecting it stiffens and then writhes, trying to throw off this (relatively) tiny assailant. All-Elements Huntress has the things attention.
Take a 3 die stunt for that, and make a strength+Athletics roll against this: [roll0]
A modest 10 successes.

[Kobold-Bard]

Water

"Well that was dramatic".

Leaping onto the back of a Demon Wasp, Water kicks it into action, ordering another to go and catch The Huntress before she smashed into the ground.

Rising into the air and far out of it's reach (in theory), Water took a knee on the back of his prismatic mount and began adjusting the multitude of tiny dials on his Starmetal bow, the vitriol-saturated God within it analysing it's immaterial instruments to determine a weak point to hit for massive damage.

---
Join Battle: [roll0] = 3 sux

Action: Aim against the tentacle-drill (1 of 3, 3/-1)