10/29 --- Δ Haggard Traveler’s Reprieve?????

[gluttoning]

Who: ??? & you!
What: Something's starting...
Where: Δ Haggard Traveler’s Reprieve (Twilight Shoreline)
When: Sunday, 10/29
Warnings: Will be added as needed.

( Perhaps intrigued by the mail allegedly sent by CC Corp, perhaps visiting the Shoreline by chance, gating into the Area goes as it always does, until the music stays cut for longer than it should, and the black, liminal transition screen lingers for a little too long. The seconds tick on. They near turn to minutes. You can't struggle, you can't argue— you can only simply be, and it occurs to you that maybe you'll be trapped midway here, conscious, for maybe forever.

And then you hear static. Your vision warps; pixels strain into words, blurred and unstable. You see them combat for your attention; you see— )



( And then you load in. )

( POST NAVIGATION )
( Sign-in Comment (Mandatory) • How to Play • Mechanics

Phase 1 • Round 1 • Round 2 • Round 3 • Round 4 • Round 5 • Round 6

Phase 2 • Round 7 • Round 8 • Round 9 • Round 10 •
Round 11 • Round 12

Epilogue )

Comments

[insinning]

[Smiling. Oria knows, so he just passes some fortifying and barkskin potion Oria's way just instead. Get topped up boyfriend]

I'm glad I made it.

[insinning]

Mm. Got it. So one person at a time...

[What a pain.

Nanashi what the hell]

[insinning]

Don't worry, I'm fine.

[See? Full HP bar that is miraculously not ticking down. Don't mind the smear of blood at his mouth. ]

ROUND_6_FINAL.EXE (2/3)

[gluttoning]

[On the other side of the arena, deaf to the words and woes and slow, bleeding heartbreak of Macha, fights Tarvos.

Two Reapers Touch attempt back to back, though only one carves it way through successfully. The crack that shows against his arm opens black and broken, the drippings from it dark and rotting and vibrant with decay. Girai Don flashes in its wake, hitting, hurting, frying -- even as the little Flick Reaper runs and shouts off in another direction. Before Tarvos can pursue, STUN hits ((GANYMEDE - 0/3 USES, CORE USE DEPLETED)) and, in the moment that it freezes the Phase solid in paralysis, Lateral Moon crashes down into a double hit that sears, that seems to make the crumbling and the cracking start to buzz and swarm underneath. Like there might be nothing under the carapace but an angry, gnawing swarm.

It's fine. To take all this aggression was simply more data. To rip them all apart was simply more data.

Amidst the flurry, of King's Hammer, of Orchid Dance, of Hirameki -- the smell of wood persists, of rock decaying under the slamming of the sea. Chipping and chipping and chipping away. He tanks, and he shoulders, and he lashes out with lance and claw, wings spread wide, every single eyes staring out every single player, as though he wishes to memorize them and hunt them down to the ends of the earth.

No end would stop him. No army. Let him be reduced to a husk. He would wipe this world clean of everything.

His lance is raised amidst the assault, every eye on his wings pointed at Ganymede and Michel. Michel. Michel. His eyes glare harder at Michel.]

YOU.

[It's the only word he's whispered, like locusts drowning out the air, echoing into spaces too hollow.

Heavenly Rage (12) casts once more, sending earth damage from the sky onto Ganymede, Michel, Dehya, and Shoka. There's a frenzy to the motion, stomping into the crowd, swinging. A swing at Leo (7) that misses. A swing at Sinclair (2) that misses. Wild and growing wilder.

Enraged.

With the blows that have added up, his HP now swinging past 50%, something snaps inside the stony figure - a fire stoked too hard, a pot bubbling to burst. The swings grow wilder, irrational, as though to keep players away more than to hit them for damage, roaring incomprehensibly. It doesn’t matter where the swings land.

It’s why, perhaps, the one who inevitably is hit, the one who approaches and reaches out, unheard…

…is Macha.]

[insinning]

[SORRY MIHARU but have a dumping of potions. He's here to top everyone's resources up at least]

[tinged]

[ they slip it into their inventory without looking. they're more focused on dabbing at the blood by his mouth, the motion aggravated, jerky from - so much. just so much is happening and they don't usually overflow with this many people at once. eyes on his face, they don't miss the way his flicker to michel in particular. ]

... Is he already...?

[ ... not yet, please... ]

[justonezero]

[It's cool he's fine everything is super fine.]

[insinning]

...parts of him are still there. Or he wouldn't have...

[Come? He drops his hand from his stomach. He reaches out to squeeze Hani's hand. It's fine. They're fine.]

Gorre hasn't taken over completely yet. We have time, after this...

[bleatingedge]

I'm glad you're here, but this is not a good look.

[Leo grips his staff tightly and stands back to back with Sinclair.]

Still, I've got your back.

[rebelles]

Vogel?

[ Haru's still getting her bearings after being knocked out of charm x4, but if her eyes aren't deceiving her it's Sinclair and he's obviously hurt. ]

PHASE 2

[tablescraps]

( These things don't last. He should have known that already. And yet, by nature, by design, he is always inclined to want what he cannot have.

The impact is sharp. Macha's thrown off his glass eye, and, as he's separated from it, a crack shoots through the sphere. The crack follows through into the ground and splits through the candy glass like a faultline, and after all Tarvos's punishment the floor just cleaves open beneath your feet like you're about to fall fifty feet under. Your stomach near flips at the sudden drop just as the crack bolts across the screen, splitting your vision into hairline fractures. It's like the whole Area's about to split open. The music cuts.

And then it all shatters.

Glass shards comprised of the Area's every saccharine texture come down on you like thousands of knives. Do what you can, but you can only protect so much of yourself— or others, if your instinct is to martyr. You don't fall, but all characters present are struck by the shards coming down, the blades lacerating your skin. It feels like heartbreak, your chest twisting in two.


The music grinds against your senses.

It's dark. It's a murky dark, it's a pitch black that swirls. You hear a rapid heartbeat resonate so loud you feel it in your teeth, and with every beat a cold red light flashes across the Area like a gritty rave. It's raining, it's raining industrial scarlet, and the sky's where the light's coming from: a light pulsing behind an endless strip of flesh, great eyes watching where clouds should be. The ground squelches at your feet, and best you can tell from every pulse of light and the stench of raw meat sickening your senses, you're standing in an ocean of raw heart-meat, the sands behind you a shore of raw cuts. Love unactualized in spirit and feeling, all that's left is the body and blood. All there is impatient consumption. Let him have you before you're cooked and ready.

Your UI tells you where you are now: Σ Graceful Tempting Fallen Angel. As Macha—Mithrun—told some of you in the week prior, though all of you saw the brilliant shoreline when you visited, all he could see when he looked out across it was red, all he could see was meat.


Macha remains fallen against the ground, shakily pushing himself up by his elbows in some attempt to regain himself, his hair and head sagging down broken neck like a woman drowned. That Tarvos struck and forgot him in his anger seems to have broken his heart, no matter how much he knew something like this was sure to happen, and he's too shaken to act.

Inspecting him tells you he no longer has his Well-loved buff— Macha is no longer invulnerable. You see his HP values now: startling low, and even lower than that with the damage he just took from Tarvos. He would be much faster and much easier than Tarvos to burn through. You notice something else, too: everything from Macha's waist down stays limp; he can't walk. And without his glass eye, from which all his skills came, it doesn't seem likely he can attack anymore. )

ROUND 7

[tablescraps]

ROUND_6_FINAL.EXE (3/3)

[tablescraps]

( What sound does a heart breaking make? )

[insinning]

H--Noir. How are you holding up?

[Straightening visibly - look, he's fine, he's fine!!]

[insinning]

It couldn't be helped.

[If they failed here, they'd never escape]

Thank you.

[rebelles]

[ She gives him a worried look but can't find anything wrong with his HP. She will have questions for you later, mister. For now, she also straightens up, pretends she's not as fatigued as she is. ]

Well enough to keep fighting. Shall we?

[ Onto the next phase! ]

[insinning]

Let's go, Leader--

[Sinclair nods, straightening as the world falls apart around them and they go straight into a fleshpit of hell]

1/2

[userunfriendly]

[ Sinclair's look might be subtle. Winter's, when he turns from his attack to find Sinclair standing there, is not.

Why is he here? Why, after all of that— blood on his hands, blood on his blade... ]

[threatmewted]

Hey, back here, bud!

[Shoka's honestly in a lot of pain thanks to all the lacerations but also, fuck that. She's running on adrenaline, running after Tarvos. Meat dimension? Don't care, there's bigger fish to fry right now.]

If you'd stop burying yourself in guilt for five minutes and listen, maybe we could actually help you!

[And aiming another Reaper's Touch on Tarvos (9)]

2/2

[userunfriendly]

[ Of course. It was the only logical outcome. It was always going to be a futile gesture, wasn't it?

How fundamentally human. Empty justifications to hurt others. Ultimately pointless.

He presses the heel of his hand to his forehead and begins to laugh quietly. ]

[insinning]

[Everything is achingly disorientating. But he knows, with his heart, he's seen worse, no matter how hard this world tries to convince him otherwise. And it hurts, but it's hardly the worst heartbreak he's experienced. That one has already come earlier. His wings catch him before he hits the ground too hard, but disappear soon after - it looked like his Night Moon blessing had finished . That was fine though.

He charges in with a Vak Tornado (19) flames writhing around his starry spear as he goes straight for Macha's chest. There's something unyielding in his gaze, his mouth pulled into a thin line of anger]

Mithrun, wake up and look at what you've been doing--

[There's no hesitation as he strikes]

[justonezero]

[Still silent, still watching Macha very, very carefully as he casts Pha Repth on himself, fully restoring his health and, thanks to his armor - buffing his physical and magical attack by 100% for the next 20 seconds.

His eyes are empty - if he wasn't moving, it would be easy to mistake him as a rather large, life-like doll.]

[dissimulative]

[ After falling into the meat dimension, Oria catches his footing despite the heartbreak cutting through his skin. How many times has he gone through this now? He might not even remember, but just hearing about the memory about his ex from Sinclair almost made him cry.

Of course he was heartbroken.

But more than that, this was a familiar scene, wasn't it—Oria pointing his gun at Macha, Mithrun, and Mori in this very place, twisted in all its glory.

He was taken with charm! And "killed" his own teammates and hurting them too. As someone who always wants to be in full control of himself, it pisses him off like no other.

So his full on vindictive personality swings in. Embarrassing, to be caught like that.

He shoots a Rai Repulse straight at Macha (20) with no hesitation. ]

[murrmoire]

Macha...this is your pain, and yours alone! This isn't ours, nor is it Mithrun's!

[ And he'll go for a Dragon Rage (18) attack on Macha, determination in his eyes. He's furious at what's been done, here. No longer is the sweet Memoir Macha met on this very shoreline.

This isn't love at all. ]

Give him back, Macha! His life isn't yours to take!

[aphonik]

[ Oh.

He feels proud, by the distraction. Running on a high of adrenaline as he chases. And yet, when the strike sounds, everything cracks. The glass cuts sharp, and the music cuts sharper.

The ripped sky and squelch of meat beneath his shoes is bad enough, the stench enough to throw one's senses off, but it won't stop him. Macha is made of paper mache...for now, and he'd rather whale on the big fucker himself.

And he sure does try, lifting a hand to try and swing a Lotus Flower (9) at Tarvos, but-

There's a flash of fire, and he's far too close to Macha still, and Dosei's hit whiffs as he freezes and stumbles, eyes wide and blown. He, uh. Give him a second. ]