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⬣//DAWN OF THE FINAL DAY
Sunday morning comes and you have no idea where you are. Floating in the black emptiness of space, you can’t tell up from down or left from right. Fighting against the inky darkness is futile. No matter how much or how little you struggle, you can’t fight the feeling that escape is impossible.
A foul wind blows through that dark, empty void. Carried on the wind is the disembodied voice of an unfamiliar man, his words ethereal and vaguely disconcerting.
“Evolution... does not always mean progress.
Evolution sometimes leads to an undesired vector.
It is arrogant for one to reject change because it is undesirable.
Rejection of change is the rejection of possibilities.
Allow diversity.”
Speaking to the voice will yield no answer.
Before you know it, there’s solid ground beneath your feet again. You’re wrapped up in a cyclone of red and violet light and spirited away to an endless plain of swirling darkness. The earth beneath your feet pulsates and glows a sickly gray. The skies above are dim and blanketed with storm clouds, lightning erupting in the periphery of your vision.
It’s dark, the only light coming from the rapid flashing of distant lightning, but it’s just bright enough for you to see that you aren’t here alone. Everyone is here— everyone who remains alive, and standing alone together in this vast, empty field, you can’t help but wonder what force brought you here.
An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your gut. The beginning of the end looms on the horizon.
PRE-FIGHT MINGLE
You’ll have from 12pm EST to 4pm EST on 11/26 to play around in the pre-fight mingle before the first round of the final boss fight begins.
While you're waiting, why don't you put on some battle tunes?
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Hector, surprisingly, isn't afraid. He stands tall (well, as tall as he can) in the dim, his staff more akin to a regal walking stick than a weapon. It only takes him a moment to absorb the scenery before he marches forward to the center of the group, pools of sunlight trailing in his wake. ]
Stick together. Visibility's low—we don't want to lose each other in the darkness.
[ He tries to get a better look at everyone around him, making a mental head count. ]
Besides Nanase, the Macabre Dancers, and the Wavemasters, who brought Heal Cores?
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...Hopefully everyone has their weapons and armor equipped.
Maybe we should also talk about any potential worries too, though. Including if our enemy might try to pull what they did with Leviathan again.
[ Frown, before he throws in: ]
And battle strategies? We don't know Harald or Cubia's weaknesses, but it could be good to try to get...an idea of how we want to approach things. So we're at least organized?
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His gun that enables stun for five minutes would be useful, but the equipment that Cubia made himself wouldn't work on the creator, huh.
Stupid ten year old. He's gonna destroy him. Oriade pulls out a tree from the ground, climbs, and sits on a thick branch. Thanks, professions.
So he's checking to see what items he has while hanging out on a tree. ]
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I did what I could with our supplies with the time that I had. [Maybe she could have done more, but this is what an infirmary stay and her own limitations allowed for.]
Not to be bleak, but I'll distribute what I can now in case something happens and you lose access to my inventory.
[If you need a reason to have heal, barkskin, or fortify weapon pots, homing molotovs, or sunflower frappes at the very least, she's dedicated an inventory slot to a stack of each, meaning you'd be able to net 2-3 for yourself.]
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Harald! Come out here and face us yourself, you coward!
[ That has to be him. There's no one else it could be and it pisses Fandaniel off that he's yelling at the darkness from the very second solid ground forms beneath them all.
He's there. He's ready to fight. He's wearing his level 100 gear, although he's left some of the alterations Fidchell had made. Not everyone may like that but this is what peak fashion looks like, y'all. Of course, the eye motifs and the mask are both gone now.
He's worn his own mask for long enough. There's no need for one anymore. ]
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[ Come get some more homing molotovs, delightful dream teas, healing potions, your fortify and barskin potions and...potions of angelic countenance? Wings are useful ok. Also reflective mirrors]
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The landscape is familiar to Macha's own - and that sense of familiarity is both comforting and off-putting. That isn't who he is anymore. He isn't anyone's tool. He isn't sure who he is, still - but he'd rather have the choice to find it, he thinks. )
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If someone dies here, he's going to kill them. ]
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[ deto's actually here on time, squinting up at the wind. turns out when someone forcibly teleports you places, you can't be late. go figure ]
Talk about dramatic. Didn't someone say he has an unrequited love for that poem lady? No wonder she didn't love him back.
[ when you suck, you suck ]
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He'll finally be terminated...
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MECHANICS
General combat rules
1-15 is a MISS
16-18 is an HIT
19-20 is a CRIT
Cubia's Passive Skills
Immunity
Sephira Returner
Cubia's skills
ROUND ONE
When the dust settles, you lift your head to see a ghastly figure looming in the skies above. To some, its horrifying visage is a familiar sight. To many others, it is anything but.
The voice that issues forth from the creature is uncannily cheerful, boyish, and lilting.]
”When the Twilight Eye doth open, so too shall the path to Him!
Discourse with me and against that power fight.
When the key that overturns all is possessed, everything shall unfold.”
This is what you wanted, isn’t it?! What you’ve been waiting for all along! The “final boss” at the end of your journey! None of you will leave this place alive.
You’ll be made to see His truth, and then you’ll die with it. You’ll die and be reborn, so come! Pursue your death. Join your dear friends in hell!
[Targeting the creature hovering above will reveal its name: Cubia. It descends from high above, coming within range of your blades and staves. Best of luck in the fight ahead, brave warriors.]
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Tep Em.
[A rather large kitten pops out and mews!]
PET THE CAT FOR BUFFS EVERYONE!
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2/2
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CORE USE 1/4
You tell us to die and then be reborn... but you're sending us to hell. Thanks for telling us your intentions clearly.
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ITEM USE
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CORE USE 1/3
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ITEM USE
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ROUND TWO
Good. Having hopes and dreams is nice, isn’t it? Having the passion to strive towards a brighter tomorrow, as if fate is something that can be overcome. Thinking about it inspires Cubia to laugh, its amusement echoing throughout the vast emptiness of the arena.]
There’s no defying fate! No matter how hard you try, a loser will always be a loser! A shadow… always a shadow.
[Hit after hit fail to connect. A lucky few are able to leave their mark on Cubia, and it seems a good degree of planning went into this little encounter. Albedo, Michel, Sinclair and Shoka all manage to successfully hit Cubia, each fiery cocktail igniting on the spot and chipping away at its health.
A lucky few manage to inflict critical damage. Tylor’s Juk Punisher strikes one of Cubia’s long, branchlike tentacles, causing the tip of it to snap off! Deto manages a similar feat, severing the end of another tentacle.
Mithrun, Haru, Dehya, and Dosei manage glancing blows, but fail to do any significant damage.]
Don’t you see it…? The futility of it all! This is- Father’s— will!
[With a bone-shuddering roar, Cubia’s jaws gape and a torrent of liquid flame spills from its mouth onto the arena below. The ocean of fire from its Megiddo Flame is unavoidable, inflicting everyone it touches with burn, but that isn’t all.
Oria, Ganymede, Hector, Deto, Brambles, Michel, Tylor, Haru, Dehya, and Levi emerge from the flames relatively unscathed, losing a mere fourth of their HP each.’Tis but a flesh wound. By the way, Haru… Cubia is immune to your little stunlock.
Leo, Mithrun, Fandaniel, Barrett, Fai, Sinclair, Miharu, and Nanase aren’t quite so lucky. The flames slosh over them and severely injure them, leaving them at half HP. At least Fandaniel’s Regret reflects half of that damage back onto Cubia. Brother, doushite…
Owen, Albedo, Hani, Punisher, Shoka and Dosei are left critically injured by the flames, losing three quarters of their HP. Ouch! On the plus side, Owen, Albedo, and Hani happen to reflect half of their critical damage back onto Cubia, severing another three tentacles.]
Don’t get cocky…! You think you stand a chance, weak as you are?!
[Cubia casts Varias Gomora, hitting a random number of players with random status effects. Leo is struck with speed down. The oh so lucky Ganymede is hit with poison, blind, and physical attack down. The princess bride himself (formerly known as Mithrun) is inflicted with magical attack down. Albedo is now confused, Shoka is hysterical, Nanase is charmed, and Dosei is asleep.]
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That all went to shit pretty quickly.
Oriade gets out a Micro Potion and chucks it, but with everything going on, he misses Cubia (6) and it hits someone else instead.
Oops. ]
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CORE USE 1/3
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HEAL CORE 1/3
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HEAL CORE USE 1/3
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ITEM USE
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1/2
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ROUND 3
[Another guttural roar cuts Cubia short, its branched arms swinging wildly with no particular target in mind. In its outrage, Legion’s Reach strikes several players and causes them to bleed, those unlucky few being Nanase, Hani, Fai, Mithrun, and Ganymede.
Its rage calms, but not for long. Dehya, Michel, Mithrun, Haru, and Miharu manage to cause it some serious damage, further severing ita remaining arms and causing Cubia to roar in agony.]
Without suffering and pain, the human race— can’t— truly advance—!
[Barrett and Levi’s homing cocktails make their mark, chipping away at Cubia’s rapidly dwindling HP. Sinclair deals some damage as well, but will find Cubia is immune to knockback. Haru will learn the same lesson, her vines failing to hold it in place. Deto manages to take a small chunk out of Cubia’s HP for his efforts as well.
And what about those data drainers? Unfortunately, they’ll find that while they’ve succeeded in healing their allies, they’ve failed to siphon any HP off of Cubia. Hey, at least you’re a little less dead than before.]
I can’t, I can’t—!
[Cubia’s jaws unhinge once more, a small point of light gathering between sharp, bony teeth, and rapidly growing larger. As the ball of light swells and burns brighter, it sucks the grey storm clouds lingering in the distance into its orbit, swallowing them up into the bright white void.
With a hollow rattling of bone, Cubia bites down, the ball of light exploding into an ocean of ethereal white feathers. Sephira Returner restores Cubia to full health, undoing all of the hard work that went into whittling it down to half health.
Cubia’s mood, it seems, has made a full recovery as well.]
No matter what miracles unfold before you, you refuse to believe what you see with your own eyes! That is why clinging to your own humanity will be your undoing!
[The sky, now emptied of clouds, begins to flicker like an old CRT monitor. From within the static sky, you can make out the vague shape of something slowly becoming clearer and clearer…]
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--but whatever he had planned doesn't even make it off Levi's back (6) as the second he raises his lance, he pops right back to all 192cm of height, a quiet sound of alarm at the change and a louder one as he nearly shoves his face into one of Levi's horns.]
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armor core use 1/4
ITEM USE
1/?
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HEAL CORE USE 1/3
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ARMOR CORE USE 1/4
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A BRIEF INTERLUDE
After it settles into Naval Monte, some of you may find the NPCs familiar--one of the peddlers at the gate. The void, smoky monster eats him whole first, which starts the panicked screaming. More merchants lose their lives in various gruesome ways, but it's not done with the merchants in Naval Monte. It continues to devour, going for the residents next. The children that played fetch together with a ball? Swallowed whole. The kind single mother who offered you an invitation to eat dinner with her family? Torn apart before it takes its time devouring her. Not even the sexton and his horrendously high HP can stand a chance against the smoky maws of the void. The sky-high magma wall doesn't hurt the monster as it rolls off it with an "invulnerable" status marker.
Naval Monte is now as quiet as a graveyard should be.
The perspective changes. It's the quiet usual every day in the infirmary. The head nurse looks like she's getting a well-deserved break, for once. The little helper AIs have nice chats with each other over a cup of tea. The atmosphere is nice and peaceful, as to how an infirmary should be during its downtime.
However, the nice sunlight that filters in through the windows is covered by a black smog and the monster forms inside, knocking over the beds and medical equipment that are beside them. The little helper AIs don't have time to drop their teacups in surprise before the monster eats them in tandem. The feed cuts as it raids the head nurse's office so viciously to the point the door flies off the hinges as it barges inside. ]
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[ SKEITH???? ]
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ROUND 4...? 1/???
While vore is happening, a few are able to land critical hits on Cubia while its distracted. Good job, Shoka and Deto. Dehya’s tried and true homing cocktail hits its mark, as do Haru, Fuurin, and Noe’s attacks.
Fandaniel’s Data Drain hits, and it seems his efforts to Data Drain him were as ineffectual as the attempts that came before his. It seems that way, but where Fandaniel’s Data Drain struck Cubia is a pinprick of light, a small gash in its skull that brightly glows.
No matter how much damage Cubia suffers, it continues to heal. Every scratch, burn, and scar dug into its monstrous form heals in a matter of seconds, its laughter ringing out in the vacuous arena.]
You can’t win! No matter what you do, you’ll never win! That’s because— because—!
[It begins slowly: more pinpricks of light breaking through Cubia’s fortified skull. Bits of bone chip away and the cracks become bigger and bigger. Eventually, the right side of its skull collapses and falls away, and within that blinding beam of light spills a familiar boy: Zelkova, fragmented and visibly injured, but nevertheless alive.
What tears out of Cubia next is a sharp, guttering cry, as anguished as it is perplexed.]
You! How did you—?
2/???
He lands on both feet, his sandals landing hard against the earth underneath him. His expression is solemn, though anger shines bright in his eyes. ]
We knew… this was coming.
[ And they went about trying to avoid this exact outcome in different ways, but to what end? It didn’t matter. With that thought in his mind, Zelkova looks upon Cubia, having yet to draw his weapon. ]
It’s too bad we didn’t work together. Maybe it wouldn’t have turned out this way.
[ As always, he doesn’t directly answer Cubia’s question. Typical of him, isn't it? Deciding not to answer a question to instead wait until the last second to actually provide any real answers.
Ah well. The how doesn’t really matter anyway. Not anymore. ]
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THERE IS NO GROWTH WITHOUT ERROR. 1/3
He remains suspended in the air, silent and still as death. After a time, his eyes creak open and his lips part to speak.]
Where does the boundary between life and death lie? What makes a life worth celebrating, and for that matter, why do we celebrate death?
[Targeting the man reveals his true name: Harald. His gaze is trained on no one in particular as he listlessly stares beyond the players into some nebulous place only he can see. Though it’s possible to attack him, nothing sticks— he can’t be damaged, afflicted with status ailments, or even healed. Every swing and stab simply passes right through him, and that’s supposing you can reach him from his perch high up in the sky.]
I’ve been searching for the key all this time— a fool’s errand, so I thought, and yet the key has been located after all. It was my own foolishness that kept the key from falling into my grasp. I owe you all a debt for locating it.
…But my work isn’t yet done. The truth remains elusive. Did it elude you too, Emma…?
[Harald’s eyes slip closed, and the man falls silent. In the distance, the sound of rattling chains and the shrill shriek of metal wires grinding against one another can be heard.]
Show me where the truth lies.
[Chains and piano wire descend rapidly from the bloody hole surrounding Harald, thick chains snaring Hector by the wrists while piano wire binds him to a makeshift cross formed from a familiar wand. A flurry of spikes emerge from the void and stab into his vulnerable body.
The crucifix rises high into the ground, suspending Hector well out of reach. As he ascends, droplets of blood spill from his body.]
“Why couldn’t I have gone with you?” Why, indeed… So you wish it, and so it shall be.
2/3
It doesn't quite register at first. Hector's mind, for the few moments that follow, still remains on the ground, staring up at Harald. At first, he doesn't realize he's talking about him, so he opens his mouth ready to argue whatever nonsense the old man spews next—
But he isn't ready. The words never register. The next thing he knows, he chokes out blood as he finds himself pinned and bound to the crucifix, eyes wide in shock, in horror. Blood spills from the wound in his stomach, down the elegant browns and greens of his armor, from his hands, and drips onto the ground below as he's lifted higher, higher into the air. He struggles, trying to pry himself free; his feet kick and push against the cross, sunlight futilely bursting forth for only brief seconds as he does. He tries to pull his hands off, but he can't. It only makes it worse. He coughs as the blood spills from his mouth. He roars as the pain rips through his entire body.
His staff lays on the ground where he stood, abandoned.
Fifteen minutes. His search and rescue training rings loud in his mind: a puncture to the stomach can kill in fifteen minutes. If he can just—if he can just get down, somehow, if someone can help him get out of this, then he can run quickly to the infirmary and get the treatment he needs—
—His search and rescue training.
His search and rescue training that he'd gone through to certify himself as a law enforcement ranger at Sequoia National Park in California in North America wherehe'd gonetoafter he'd left themilitarywhichhe had only joinedbecausehisgradeshadtankedafter his sister vanishedandthat'swhenhestarted seeingthingsandhearingvoices which led him tokillCaptainHearnewhomhehad loved so dearly — — -- - -
Mehmet chokes out a sob as it all comes rushing back to him, another sputter of blood splashing over the spike impaling him to the cross. That's his life in the "other" world, his real world. This isn't where he belongs. This isn't where any of them belong. He tries to pry his arms free, he bends his torso, and his heels press against the crucifix. He struggles, he squirms, but he remains firmly pinned in place.
He watches his rapid drain of HP, uses every last ounce of his strength to keep his head upright as his blood leaves him, and he realizes this is it, for him. He blinks rapidly, teeth gritted through the pain, and tears spill from his eyes.
This isn't how it was supposed to go. This isn't how things were supposed to end. He was supposed to get out of here with all the rest of them, and they were going to kick CC Corp's ass for ruining their lives. They were going to move forward with life, now with iron-forged bonds for having gone through hell itself together. Who cares if this is just a game? These people are real, and he loves them all the same.
He looks down, but his vision fades, either from tears or the curtain of death he cannot tell. His eyes dart amongst the blurring figures, picking out names as he finds them, so that he can carry them with him in his last moments. Nanase. Dehya. Ganymede. Mithrun. Levi and Barrett. Shoka and Dosei. Leo. Fai and Yael. Owen and Fandaniel. His glimmers of hope.
For how thoroughly life and this game had broken him down, these people had paused for him, sat with him, and were helping him put himself back together. He had been so looking forward to repaying them in the world outside for everything they'd done for him. But now who is going to take care of Dosei and Shoka? Who is going to yell the loudest for Barrett at his football games? How is he going to help Sheza find a life outside of the military, and how is he going to hang out with him and Yuui? When will he ever get the chance to bring Amon to the park, bring back Owen into his life?
What are his parents going to do, now that their last child is gone? How is he ever going to apologize to his captain's mother? Why did he ever decide to drag his feet on giving this beautiful bracelet on his wrist, woven by his own hands, to the rock in his life?
All of that, hopes and dreams for his life beyond Fragment, his sparks of motivation and joy, fading as the breath does from his lungs and the blood does from his veins. And just as it comes back to him, he bids farewell to the future.
But maybe—just maybe—he'll get to see Kara again.
He is not sapped of strength yet. He keeps his head held up high, as best the vertigo allows him. He sets his jaw, takes a deep breath—but can't. He coughs—perhaps his lungs are punctured, too—and the way his torso writhes only has the needles dig in deeper, and he winces in pain.
Regardless, he opens his mouth. ]
——.
[ His voice, if he spoke at all, is nothing more than a hoarse whisper, squeezed out by what's left of the air in his lungs. Blood spills from his parted lips. His vision is fading fast; he doesn't know if anyone is close enough to have heard him.
Don't stop. Kill Harald, and get out of here. Go back to the real world and the people you belong to.
His eyes roam, but he doesn't know if they're open anymore. He can't tell if he's breathing. He can't feel his limbs. The pain fades, the cacophony of battle mutes.
All he can see is the late afternoon sun beaming through the trees, a little house nestled at the edge of the forest, and the man rising from his spot on the porch as he senses his arrival.
A smile cracks over his face.
He runs.
I'm going home.
Hector is dead. ]
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THE DECISION RESTS IN YOUR HANDS: LIVE OR DIE?
no subject
She approaches with fury. It's only his suspended distance that keeps her from trying to tear him apart with her hands.] What. Was that.
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DISCUSSION TO REACH A CONSENSUS
So. Other than wanting to punt the grandpa into the virtual hospice where he can rot, did you guys get any other ideas? Because if you aren't aware for some reason, none of our attacks can do anything to him. It's just a waste of energy and your attention is better off focused on something else than giving it to him. So while I understand your violent tendencies, hold it in for now. It's not going to do anything.
What should we decide on as a group? Negotiate? Try to convince him to let us go? Pretty sure they mentioned that this world is fucked several times.
no subject
[ it was gayer than that but look, the debuff, ]
Something to keep in mind. I doubt he'll let us go without us providing something in exchange.
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catherd or something adjacent to it
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Comment for Reaction + somewhat popcorning
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STEP FORTH. PLEAD YOUR CASE.
Harald, proving that he is more than a geriatric chair-ridden old man, lifts his arm and points to Michel.]
Few among your number are inclined to use their minds. You, however, are different. You will be the one to speak on behalf of your group.
[Congratulations, Mike! You won! Once Michel has sashayed on over, the real test begins. Harald’s eyes open, boring holes into Michel’s, but Gorre is a big boy who can handle a little staredown. It’s fine!]
Answer this: will you stay or will you go?
[And by
yewyou, Harald means everyone. Don’t bomb, Michel.]:manstanding:
He would prefer to protest and demur. But as Miharu said... it should be someone who can bear the weight of the outcome. He's pushed enough onto all of them as it is. His gaze lingers on her for a moment of uncertainty, half a question that he doesn't know how to frame. But he isn't certain that they have a choice; and he isn't certain that they have the time. Perhaps in some sense, he might be the best choice for speaking to a program. Particularly a buggy one. His expression smooths over again and he steps forward, meeting Harald's gaze evenly. ]
...Since the opinions have been unanimous, you already know the answer. We will go.
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PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I LOVE YOU.
Harald begins to disappear, shifting in and out of view, until finally vanishing for good. His voice, however, remains as a phantom, echoing through the endless sunset.]
You have made your choice and chosen your path. Fate is a strange thing, immutable and uncontrollable. Pray that it guides you well.
[A warmth blooms in your chest, a lightness overtaking your body. As you begin to rise, no longer standing on solid ground, bits of your digital body begin to chip off and float away. As your body crumbles, memories of who you were in reality return to you piece by piece, filling in the cracks.]
Do not fear the process of returning to your world. So long as your soul has a body to return to, you will indeed return. Time is finite, even in this space, so say goodbye to the people you have spent these last four months with.
[One by one, players will unravel until they vanish from Fragment entirely, their souls reuniting with their bodies. While there is still time, take the opportunity to say goodbye to the friends you’ve made and the people you’ve come to love. You may not get the chance to again.
Or will you?]
no subject
But also...
He rubs his eyes, closing them as he tries to pull himself together as each memory returns with crystal clear clarity.
And the first...]
...oh. Michel was right. They did love me.
[ Strips of data pull away from him, but he hadn't been afraid to begin with]
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