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Bloody Revelations     The arrangements of the second clash are significantly more chaotic than the first. Once again the Silver Prince has predicted his 'rival's move correctly, and sent Elites to exactly the right spot on just the right day as part of a web of information gathering and disinformation disseminating that far exceeds the scope of the handful entangled in it. No mad journey to the Labyrinth (however tame and well-protected it may have been last time, relatively) is required, as they set out for a more 'real' place on the Underworld's mirror of the Western Ocean, the Sea of Shadows.

    Haggard's Keep is indeed a keep, with cold grey walls of spartan design, replete with strictly utilitarian docks at its dark, gravelly bay, but it could just as easily been called Haggard's Rock, given the entire thing is built on on a tiny island of black stone with sheer vertical walls covered in pale and blood red algae and roosted on by things that are just somewhat too big to be ravens in place of seagulls. Only a few hundred people could live on it at maximum, and less than that maximum by far is actually on it.

    It'd be easy to forget the place for an especially bleak outcropping somewhere in the living world, were it not for the Sea of Shadows' propensity to remain an ice calm and level mirror of water that dispenses with the blue and leaves one staring straight down into the black below that, but being the Underworld, of course the keep is manned by ghosts, who require nothing more than ships to sail around the bay, of which there are a dozen, and posts to patrol the fort itself, of which there are many. Normally, they'd be wasting their time gambling for things they won't spend and repairing gear that doesn't need to be fixed, but the key problem here is that, despite the even earlier assignation, the other side got here first.

    That one especially strange property of the Ocean of Endless Night had been touched on before; that an especially skilled captain could sail out into its dark corners, and instead of hitting the walls of the Labyrinth again, appear anywhere on the Sea of Shadows. Bloody Revelations isn't even a sailor, never mind a captain, but there were a couple mongst handful of spectres still around from the last confrontation, and it only takes one to transport a handful of people (unfortunately, slamming Orcinus Rex into the place isn't truly viable now). That means they take a longboat out into a space of pitch black water too far from any islands or reefs to have a single landmark, and so sailing in a straight line, the cheating of geometry required to see the Keep on the horizon is invisible.

    That means the preemptive team is arriving just on the backfoot when they find the troops stationed at Haggard's Keep fighting against them up the bay, pelting them with arrows and javelins and blocking the narrow corridors with sturdy metal shields and well-trained sword arms. The fact that they've been mind-controlled into doing so dulls their skill somewhat, but unfortunately it also makes which ones were supposed to be the Silver Prince's inside sleeper agents completely impossible to discern.
Bloody Revelations     The first arrivals by a hair are already at the top of a 150 foot needle of rock that juts out of the island's northwest corner, built of smooth black onyx instead of the same thing as the keep, straight on the bedrock and punching through the island itself with easily another hundred feet buried. There is no interior; only narrow steps exposed to the wind and horizontal rain of sea spray winding around the exterior, with no rails or guards to prevent a fatal slip in a hurry. There isn't even a room for the lantern either, as the top of the lighthouse abruptly terminates into a perfectly flat platform equally bereft of shelter, still slick in the elements, and high enough to be significantly colder than below.

    There is also no lantern, they will find. The pale blue light that shines from its top in a slowly revolving, winking beam is owed to a tremendous, 30 foot eyeball that floats a few feet off the ground, still connected to an optic nerve that trails off into literally nothing as it fades into thin air. The space around it thrums with a palpable aura of the Underworld's concentrated Essence, cold and erratic, and from up top, one can see that the beam stretches for hundreds of miles; far, far, far further away than would ever be possible for a lighthouse to reach on a round planet, making it suddenly much more clear how this is an important navigation tool for half the ocean.

    At some point along the way up, Bloody Revelations identified a lighthouse warden and ransacked him for possessions, including some utterly spurious keys, but also an egg-sized translucent stone threaded with dark red veins, which seems appropriate now when held up against a giant eyeball, blood vessels and all.
Wandering Dog Wandering Dog despises the Underworld. He wishes it didn't exist, and he hates being here. But his mission overwhelms his hatred, and so, he's quiet along the way, keeping his opinions to himself, though he did mutter during the beginning of the climb 'this place sucks'. Every step he takes is as fast as he can make it without falling off the steps, having excellent balance, and as soon as the group is up on the flat platform, he takes a breath. It's cold, and he's not entirely dressed for it, being in his silk tunic and hand wraps for fighting, though he has shoes instead of sandals, which help. The old martial artist has light blue hair going gray, and is probably older than most would expect a Dragon-Blooded to be.

And then, once they see the eye, he frowns sharply, making sure not to approach it, as he speaks towards Bloody Revelations. "Alright, boss lady. While you do whatever it is you need to do with this thing, I'll try and make sure those punks don't get in the way."

Wandering Dog then lingers near the steps, watching, waiting. He's not going to fight someone on them, not while they're slippery and precarious and he doesn't have the advantage. Maybe later in the fight. But he's looking for those who'd come to stop them. Namely, someone who called him out. If she's here...they're gonna have words.
Starbound Flotilla "Floran isss... hungry."
"Ugh. The biological nature of our target is hardly something that should whet the appetite. There will undoubtedly be plenty of meat making its way here shortly."
"Stressed. Do you think they'll at least avoid killing the natives?"
"Doubting it! They're all ghosty enough to not be much conscience-weight."
"Then make sure we get a better angle on them."
"Hmph. We'll do that the /right/ way."

    The Flotilla are down here arranged in a cluster around something they've fast-deployed. Not near enough to the steps to obstruct, they use the thirty-ish foot wide platform below the thirty-foot-wide eye as a sort of helipad for a small gunship they've crafted out of a mishmash of their own parts and parts from Luthe's attack vehicles. It bristles ominously with guns, and its energy signature is easy to read on sensors as a risk that may take off at any moment and attack climbers from an advantageous hovering position using its fancy VTOL design.

    The whole crew is at work on keeping it prepared to strike, ready to hop aboard the moment the enemy forces arrive. George and Seft, particularly, keep a close eye on activity below. Albert, Moonfin, and Pavo are the most determined in their tuning and preparation.
Finna     Finna was wise to conserve her strength earlier, because these repeated missions in the Underworld are getting to her. The stagnant, stiflingly frigid necrotic Essence that surrounds her brings her no strength, no confidence, and no miracles. Using her Exalted might down here needlessly is inviting death, and so - more than aware of this - she's been unusually quiet and reserved, choosing to travel openly in her human form. For those who can see it, her tail's dangling low and ears are flattened in a clear display of sourness that matches the grouchy look on her face.

    "Does being made of Soulsteel make this place tolerable for you?" She eventually ends up asking of All-Seeing Eye, voice dripping with melodramatic disgust at the atmosphere.

    Of course, such concerns become secondary when her sharp hearing picks up the whistle of projectiles on the distance. She turns to glance and -- "YEEEEK!" LEANS BACK, allowing an arrow to NARROWLY miss her. A few strands of white hair drift to the waters.

    Well. So much for conserving her strength. The young woman snarls, teeth tightly clenched and GRINDING as she glowers at the distant ghosts. "Lovely welcoming party they're throwing for us too! Well, it's livelier than this stupid boat ride. Alright, you dead better pipe down! Whatever killed you the first time probably wasn't HALF as scary as we are!" Her flesh starts to... smoke? No. Streams of silvery-white emerge and curl around her like smoke, but the tiny wisps quickly surge into a gleaming, glittering SURGE that breaks the illusion masking her tattoos in an instant and reveals her fox features for everyone, event he distant ghosts. In the bleak, bleached coloration of the underworld her display of SILVERY BLUE is a sudden jolt of not just color, but life and celestial energies utterly ALIEN to this place.

    Energies that cause her protean flesh to expand, melt, and reform, sprouting fur, fangs, and claws, muscles growing defined but remaining tightly packed and sleek on a body that remains quite feminine even as it grows to be a seven foot tall WEREFOX with white fur.

    She does indeed decide to DITCH the boat at this point, simply building up strength in her legs and then LEAPING forth with terrific speed to SLAM into the fortress's side, plunging claws that gleam with Lunar essence effortlessly into the black stone.

    To conserve strength from here, she simply climbs like a beast, vaulting up this way and that using her claws to hang on to every lump and bump and swinging up to find a way into the fortress that ISN'T going to be playing into the defender's plans!
All-Seeing Eye      All-Seeing Eye knows spots the unnatural mental influence from the moment the first arrows fly. It's not as though there's an aura about them--rather, his superior eyesight allows him to see with clarity their clumsy, inexpert movements. Movements compelled by a force other than their own wills. He sighs, snapping a whip into the air and returning a volley back at them. A moment's glance to the top of the spire confirms his suspicions.

     "Hmph." Presumably, the Prince's inside men are among that crowd. For anyone else, it'd prove a problem. But not him. "Defeat them, comrades, but leave something for me to look through, hm? I want that intel." His chipper tone is slightly muted today. He might be disappointed that he's been beaten to the punch. Or, perhaps he's taking Revelations seriously despite his gory, disrespectful display upon their last meeting.

     His upgrade request is currently in the queue, with magical materials yet to be provisioned. It'll be a little while yet before he can match her sudden increase in strength, but that doesn't bother him. He's come here to accomplish a mission, and no one, not her, certainly not Pavo, will stop him from doing that. Yes, that's right--he sees the Flotilla up there in their gunship. He sees many things, hence the name.

     Eye is forced to remain on the boat as it moves towards the tower, deflecting attacks as they come towards him. When it finally makes landfall, rather than make a play on ascending it, he focuses on the enemy troops. The Personality Override Spike, affixed to the end of a flexible wire, is used as a sort of rope dart. Eye swings it 'round his body, sending it snapping out to pierce the corpus of nearby ghosts. Each time it does so, he pauses, utterly engrossed in his task.

     At risk to himself, Eye is systematically searching the memories of the ghostly defenders, trying to discern whether they are the inside agents, or locate likely suspects. This ends up making him an obvious target for the Flotilla--a stylishly dressed individual swinging his way through the crowd, pausing at random intervals.
Empty Tidings Empty Tidings also despises the Underworld, but possibly not for the same reasons as Wandering Dog. Hers are broader and probably more metaphysically-grounded; certainly less personal. If she had her way, the Underworld wouldn't exist, and Creation would look much, much different.

Give it time.

She doesn't arrive on the boat like the others. Soldiers do, though: mortals armed with spear, axe and bow, equipped with trinkets, charms and ammunition meant to put the dead down. They're dressed identically, in groups of ten, with face-covering cloths that drape down over their chests. It looks like they could all be brothers. They move like they are, with the sort of familiar familial ease of confidence in one another.

Lambs to the slaughter, it seems.

Empty Tidings ghosts through the sea, a spectral shape just beneath the surface that doesn't disturb the water. She flits past the ships, a stray ghost (as far as anyone can tell) that flees the approach of the invaders. She gets near the keep, looking up through the still surface with a silent smile, and --

    reality flickers

-- and is suddenly ascending the steps of cold-slicked exterior stairs by her lonesome, a young (living) woman in black, silver-chased silks. A set of tiny brass bells are tied into her long, dark hair, some intricate pattern undulating as it rings with each step. A pair of reddish leather gloves are tucked into a sash at her waist.

She doesn't seem concerned about the growing battle, and given her total lack of weaponry when there's boatloads of troops coming in, she's presently being ignored. That's... probably not good.
Lezard Valeth Lezard doesn't give a damn about hos treacherous the footing is, he can fly and teleport.

This time, he's circling the area on one od his own malignant beasts, a Harpy that he summoned up once they were within a reasonable distance. He's not taking the path that the Flotilla is using, instead opting to basically hang about with the more landbound of the group, making the Harpy set to hovering while he accompanies them over that precipitous and most lethal drop that they are navigating.

He doesn't follow Bloody Revelations up to the platform, either, insted breaking away and sailing through the air to look down at the fort... and the sudden increase in activity.

"It appears we have company." He comments. "Should I simply blast the fort and bring it down on their heads?"

And then Empty Tidings arrives. "Well." He looks to Wandering Dog. "Is this your appointment, Admiral?"
Tomoe It hadn't been a total wash on the last operation but it was not a good one for them. Still, she's learned some important things about the mental state of the Starbounders even if came at great cost. She had recovered mostly from the beating she'd been given there was no other word for what the Starbounders inflicted on her. Here she was again in this place, flight for her was not an option when working her, she had maybe three seconds and she'd needed to save that if someone somehow launched her into the air. She almost did forget this place was in the underworld it seemed like some of the bleaker places of the American and Canadian West Coast to her.

Silver Prince was right on the money about this, there was going to be another fight and it was going to be likely as brutal if not more than the last time.

She is with All-Seeing she sees him not move into engaging, no she sees him move to do something with his abilities? She's not sure what he's up to, but the Exalt isn't one for going off screaming his own name, so it has to be important.

The fighters are arriving, she's moving in to give some cover for All-seeing Eye for the briefest of moments as he does his thing.

"Don't take too long Eye!"

She will then start engaging hostiles as best she can but she's clearly going to be a target the allies of Bloody Revelation darn well know who she is. It won't be long before they sport her or she spots one of them. It's only a matter of time.
Starbound Flotilla "Wary. Hostiles sighted."
"Where?"
"Where the hell else? This island's got less space to walk on than a college apartment. They're below us, doofus."
"Let us make ourselves a known threat."
"The skies are ours! Let's put 'em back in the waves!"
"Yeahyeah! Floran isss gonna fiiiiiiiight!!"

    The Flotilla are immediately leaping into action, rushing into their battlestations on the little gunship. Two tremendous jets roar to life, taking off from the makeshift helipad. Shields spin up under Seft's deft control, Albert primes the weapons, George gets the reactor purring, Biteblade hops onto a side turret, Moonfin slips into the comms and coordination station, and Pavo straps into the pilot's seat. The whole thing goes from ready to launched in less than ten seconds, gleaming in a dazzling array of various lights and exhausts as it menaces form above. Empty Tidings manages to slip by them just as they get their takeoff, but the others are unlikely to be so unnoticed.

    They don't intend to wait a moment. They're already opening fire on the ones still climbing, spraying with hefty mounted machine-gun fire. "Star One on-station. Your journey ends here, deathlord soldiers." The transmission and PA-broadcast are in tandem. Albert's voice is stern and uncompromising.
    "Whether it be at the shores of shadowy seas..."
    "Or if you're climbing to heights that gods ought'a smite you for..."
    "This place may as well already be ours. Leave or die." Albert finishes, flicking a few switches and pressing a few buttons with whatever passes for gravitas for a militaristic Apex. The gunship unleashes a storm of micromissiles across the rock, snaking things that move erratically and home in poorly, but make for terrifying coverage to accentuate the high power of the heavy machine-gun spraying, circling the lighthouse in a wide pattern and strafing around. If Finna moves fast she might be able to book it out of the incoming assault, but All-Seeing Eye and Tomoe are the ones who are likely to deal with the most pain from the strafing blasts.
Bloody Revelations     If any of the Stygian marines were actually aboard their ships, at combat readiness and using their own tactics, instead of ordered to simply slow down the enemy and prevent them from making progress as long as possible, it may actually be a surprisingly difficult battle. They're certainly well equipped, well-trained, and generally capable, as ghosts attuned to soulsteel, hundreds of years experienced, and wielding minor Essence powers, tend to be overwhelmingly better soldiers than they were in life as mortals. There aren't nearly enough of them to stave off a determined assault like this however, especially with no Warden and no reinforcement call. There are only about three battle groups of fifty each. They have the weapons to deal damage to the invaders and the armour to take a beating back, but not the skill and tactics available to match them, and not the numbers to overwhelm them and pile on guaranteed hits.

    150+ is still work cut out for All-Seeing Eye though. Of course the Silver Prince's trusted agents would be subtle and professional, not something easily guessed at by marines who know little more than the sea, sword, and rules to a truly staggering number of games of chance. None of them provide useful hints as to which of their fellows might be a secret agent that they don't know about, because they aren't that canny and don't get up to much. He has to go through them one at a time, meticulously searching for a handful of possible matches at best in the crowd.

    Empty Tidings will want to stay in the water as little as possible, for only seconds after getting in, she feels the cold black waters slowly starting to sap away her Essence. It's different from the simple lack of connection she has elsewhere; the Sea of Shadows itself hungrily soaks it up like an arctic sea does body heat. The silver lining is that nobody particularly pays attention to the idea that someone might be swimming in it, because of course that would be just stupid, right?

    Clambering all over the outside of the Keep certainly makes it difficult for any archers to get a realistic shot on Finna, and it circumvents all the stairs and narrow paths that are no doubt chokepoints for soulsteel-armoured guards. Arriving at the tower itself though, as aforementioned, there is no inside portion. Never built to accommodate people who need things like warmth and shelter, and who would have to be replaced if they fell, it is a solid spire of literal onyx, with those narrow steps carved into the side.

    Bloody Revelations is strutting up to Haggard's Eye itself, turning the certainly ocular-themed hearthstone over in her hand, then clenching her fist around it. She waves off to Lezard hovering at a distance, voice carrying over the wind and spray. "Blast whatever you want, so long as it keeps them busier than whatever you're blasting. Even planning ahead of them, they're obnoxiously early. I might have to execute a specific broker or two."

    The hearthstone in her hand throbs, both visibly and audibly, as it is pumped full of tremendous amounts of Death Essence. "This won't be quick, no doubt, so keep the platform clear. It isn't mine to hurry along." she says, before pulling her arm back, and then punching straight into the back of the giant, gelatinous eyeball all the way up to the elbow, burying her arm into the gorey interior. The aura of chill power condenses sharply around the floating organ as its pupil suddenly contracts, its blood vessels spread and darken, and its iris turns to deep, ruby red. A quantity of blood drips down the Abyssal's arm and stipples the onyx floor, which can only be her own, as she narrows her focus and begins pouring *tremendous* amounts of power forth for inscrutable reasons.
Wandering Dog As Lezard is nearby, Wandering Dog shrugs at the comment about blasting the fort, but he's straining his strong eyes to see as Lezard mentions that Empty Tidings arrived. "Yeah, it is. Let me deal with her." And then, Wandering Dog dashes off the platform, before moving to slide down the edge and kick off. Essence flares through him as he soars through the air, downwards, from a superhuman leap. He reinforces his legs with essence as he comes towards a landing, endurance charms stopping him from breaking them from the sheer fall and leaving them mostly alright. He's still a distance away from her, but she would have seen him coming, and probably know exactly who he's coming for.

"Sorry, Tidings, can't let you continue. We're in the middle of something, you see." He starts cracking his knuckles, those hand wraps shown visibly, before he puts his hands to his side. It's clear he came expecting a fight. "I don't know what you're planning, but I imagine you're planning something, coming unarmed all alone. Not that I expect you to need weapons, yeah? Not everyone does." A small grin, though it's not a happy one.

"I'd ask you to turn back, but we both know that won't happen. So how do you see this going?" Perhaps the reason Wandering Dog doesn't attack first is because he sees Tidings as a sort of friend. They don't know each other well...but Lumiere is a shared experience, after all, and he remembers that.
Finna     Two massive oversights plague Finna's ascent.

    First, is the fact that she has misjudged the nature of the spire. There's NO WINDOWS, she discovers. Not even on the other side. This means changing to warform was actually stupid? Maybe...

    There's nowhere to rest. All she can do is continue to scramble in a ramshackle spiral that tries to avoid actually getting onto the stairs and exposing herself to ghosts that she's not prepared to face head-on...

    The other thing she's overlooked?

    Well, it's the DISCO HELICOPTER OF DOOM the Starbound Flotilla fields. The machine undoubtedly makes a hellish racket that she instantly identifies as NOT something one should be hearing in Creation whatsoever... let alone the Underworld. Probably not, anyways.

    "Buah?" SO she looks up. Up. And even higher up.

    Only to stare in a mixture of awe and disbelief at the freakish display of ramshackled engineering.

    The awe shifts to TERROR when missiles start to fly. She's not seen those before, but every instinct of hers knows they are BEST AVOIDED. So the beastgirl resumes her mad scrambling, trying to get out of the way.

    This doesn't go so well. She veers away from a curving missile at the last moment, causing it to slam into the spire's walls and explode - which catches her in the blast. A ferocious SCREAM's torn from her as fur's burned away and flesh scorched and pierced by shrapnel, allowing a few handfuls of blood to stain the spire's walls and drip down to the ocean below. But no more than that. The wounds seal shut almsot as soon as they're suffered. Scorched flesh is sloughing off to be replaced with new growth, and new white fur grows in to replace the damaged coat. Bits of shrapnel are pushed from her flesh slowly to rain down on the ground below.

    She appears unhurt at the end of it, but beads of sweat roll down her forehead now. But now... a new idea has struck her.

    Her seven-foot form... shrinks rapidly towards one lone hand that remains stuck into the black stone. All of that mass simply deflating into a space not much bigger than a person's hand.

    White fur shifts to black, nearly the very same shade as the stone. A black that, from afar, is nearly indistinguishable from the stone.

    A bush tail extends for extra balance and she swings upwards, resuming her weird running-up-the-outside-of-the-spiral...

    ... in the form of a humble, common black squirrel.

    She's not sure what to do at this point, but clearly UP is the way to go if she's going to figure out any plan of attack or countermeasures to what's happening here, and so up she goes.
Empty Tidings Empty Tidings stops, looking up. The leap definitely catches her attention. She's halted her ascent on a long but narrow step, breath misting the air while she watches Wandering Dog touch down and straighten up. Her expression is blank. It only slowly fills in with a trickle of disappointment.

"I know," she sighs. "I had planned to dramatically interrupt it at the last possible moment, but now you're in my way. Precisely where I told you not to be." Tidings looks out to the water for a moment, frowning. She pulls the gloves from their folded place at her waist. The texture doesn't look quite right for it to be any normal leather. She pulls them on, one at a time tugging them and then flexing her fingers. They fit snugly. "Not everyone does," she agrees.

Empty Tidings turns to face Wandering Dog. "I see myself walking past you in peace," she admits, "but I'll confess I'm a bit of an optimist these days." She doesn't want to hurt him. Lumiere is the key reason, but she wasn't lying when she told him those things on their last meeting. "We don't have to be on opposite sides of this, you know."
All-Seeing Eye      Eye has one word for the Flotilla. "No."0

     There is no sassy clapback from Eye, no smug rebuttal. He doesn't even make an effort to move from his spot until the very last minute, much to Tomoe's dismay. He only moves once he's certain the guard he's searching through is of no use. By the time he's reached that conclusion, several micromissiles explode dangerously close to him, singing his clothes and sending him flying into a column of defending ghosts.

     Upon colliding with them, he rolls with the impact of the blow. The Personality Override Spike and the cable to which it's attached snake back into his outstretched palm, while miniaturized crossbows with vertical 'magazines' of bolts simultaneously sprout from his wrists with a couple of clicks. His hand snaps outward for purchase on the rocky ground, and he springs up onto his feet.

     A trail of inky black smog follows Eye as he runs, feet pounding the uneven terrain at a frantic sprint. He barely manages to stay ahead of the missiles, but his movement is by no means without reprisal. Leaping into the air, Eye hops upon the heads and helmets of remaining ghostly soldiers, forcing the Flotilla to fire into the ranks of the ghosts to strike him. The intel can wait--and the ghosts can't get any more dead, he supposes.

     His next step flings him into the air, and he twirls gracefully, electrified wires surrounding him in a hypnotizing quadruple helix. Electromagnetism turns away what attacks it can, sending them back towards the gunship, and Eye adds to it with a swarm of material and immaterial crossbow bolts, aiming to strike both the inside and the outside of the craft--provided they haven't built it out of exotic materials.
Wandering Dog "Sorry, but I decided to take the risk." Wandering Dog knows that Empty Tidings will try and kill him if they fight, try and destroy him. She said as much. But he wants to be the one to fight her, to show her his power, if it has to come to that. "Nice gloves. They look off. Something special?"

He takes another step forward, but doesn't move hostilely. "We both know that's not an option. I need to be able to take on the Silver Prince face-to-face, and that means every advantage we can get. The minute you pledged to walk beside him instead of against him, the minute we became foes." Wandering Dog exhales.

"Where's the alternative? I give up what I've been spending centuries waiting for? I have the opportunity. I'm going to wipe the memory of Skullstone off the map. I'm going to save the humans who think that their society is 'right', show them a better path. And if I have to deal with her to do it...well."

Wandering Dog looks up, towards the spire. "We all have to make some sacrifices." If Empty Tidings doesn't attack him now, he'll probably strike her next. Unless she has a plan.
Lezard Valeth Wandering Dog and Empty Tidings have their Dramatic Faceoff. Lezard, being a Classic Evil Wizard, has to respect that kind of thing so he gives them a wide berth. Besides, it'll be nice to know if the Admiral's bite is as good as his bark.

In the meantime there is the matter of the other assailants. There was a big and angry looking werewolf-type thing around, but it vanished. Lezard pushes forward, hanging in the air over the fort as he watches the Flotilla missile the crap out of All-Seeing Eye and Tomoe and some other thing, Nonchalantly, he opens his book and the Philosopher's Stone flips through pages, magic gathering around him. "Since you refuse to obey common sense, I will have to kill you instead. Maybe your corpse will be more sensible about things."

The ground under Tomoe lights up in crimson, and then there is a loud BANG as Lezard announces, "FIRE STORM!" The fire roars upward, consuming Tomoe's position in a blast of destructive force.
Tomoe The strafing run comes she brings up her shield to intercept of it what she can, but some of it spills past. It seems she's going to be dealing with the assault force again. This was not going to be a good night This was not going to be a good night at all for her, as she gets on the move shifting her weight and she starts to chant, as she's not going to be flying here, she's not going to be flying here at all given the lack of natural light for her to make use of to fly. She's chanting again, and this time, not a fireball would chase the Flotilla down, she sends rays of light hunting them down as they go by.

She'll keep moving she suspect, as Eye is going to not move.

"I will not."

Is Tomoe's own reply to the Flotilla when it comes to words. Maybe Tomoe doesn't see that talking to them would matter? Or maybe it was more she thought she'd get distracted and killed given she was fighting five people at once.

She keeps moving there are other targets she knows there are ones who need to go down like Lezard, she's got to make it to him though.

She does not stop to see if her attack lands, she keeps going hopefully it will give whoever is facing them some support.

Or Lezard could find her too, he talks about raising her corpse from the dead and he gets more of a reply.

"You are asking a Death Game survivor if we have common sense? "

Then there is fire, a whole lot of fire coming her way she's not quite able to get free of it, but she does not get caught in ground zero like this.

She's clearly scorched at this point her HP bar on her display is already pushing yellow.

"Well then shall we get to it?"

Lezard is in the air so for once she can't really get into melee with him as she can't fly in the Underworld. So she chants again yes her Norse is pretty bad, but there are worse out there. Lezard gets fire in return a focused classic the fireball if she's lucky she can force him to land.
Empty Tidings That isn't precisely what Tidings said. She'll make the truth of it clear, eventually. "Demon skin," she replies. "Blood ape. Terribly expensive to get the stink out, but worth it. I could batter down the gates of Heaven without splitting a seam." What a specific example.

Wandering Dog gets closer. Empty Tidings squares off against him. Her clothes are cut along the leg, for ease of motion; it lets the chill in, though, making her suppress her urge to shiver. "You misunderstand. I have made no such pledge. This is an alliance of convenience to me, not one of loyalty or belief. The moment Bloody Revelations is no longer a threat, the Silver Prince will have expended his usefulness. I don't intend to allow a Deathlord purchase anywhere within a Direction of my homeland."

She mimics his step closer. The gap between them is shrinking, but they aren't quite within striking distance. "Sacrifices. What do you think you know about sacrifice?" She narrows her eyes. Empty Tidings clenches one hand into a tight fist, leather creaking. She takes a deep breath --

Tidings exhales sharply. "Fine. It's clear that you have no intention of considering any offers from me while you think of me as /her/. The weak, scared girl, trapped in that damned city." She meets his eye. "I'll just have to disabuse you of that notion first."

Empty Tidings pivots on one foot and swings an arm upwards. A geyser erupts from the stair ahead of her, followed by another, a rapidly-advancing chain of aquatic explosions meant to ruin footing and throw Wandering Dog clear off the stairs and down the cliff adjacent!
Finna     UP goes the squirrel. Scramble, scramble, scramble. Its tiny little legs are a blur of motion... but---

    WHOOOOOOSH!

    Then a very noisy, flying sorcerer goes zooming up higher and turns his malicious spellwork on her allies.

    Right in plain sight, from her perspective. All the page-flipping and hand-waving is an opening, in her book!

    The little squirrel spreads its arms and LEAPS through the air, flipping around to face the sky just as it's found itself directly UNDER Lezard's harpy - a location that Finna figures is darned well a blind spot for him.

    In an EXPLOSION of shifting form, Finna's flesh bursts back into her human form, now clutching an ornate Moonsilver bow, an arrow drawn from her quiver, drawn over her glistening tongue, and nocked faster than a blink.

    "Down you go, specs!" The arrow's let fly straight up for the Harpy's underside, though with more than enough force to possibly go THROUGH the creature and puncture Lezard from below.

    In either case, the arrow's been smeared with a deadly paralytic neurotoxin from one of the many nasty critters of Creation.

    Of course, this means Finna's now free falling towards the Underworld's ocean, having forsaken her ascent, but irridescent, gossamer DRAGONFLY WINGS begin to emerge from her back and THRUM up to speed, somehow holding her aloft - all physics and biology about insect flight limits be damned!
Wandering Dog Wandering Dog just sighs. "And how do you plan on erasing him from existence? She has a way. Do you? I won't take the risk that he'll come back again. He needs to die."

She clenches her hand as he talks about sacrifices, but he doesn't answer her 'question'. Instead, when she brings up that Wandering Dog thinks of her as the girl from Lumiere, the martial artist moves to say something, and then stops himself. This isn't the place to smooth over things. He has bigger fish to fry.

And then the geyser erupts on the stairs, and Wandering Dog is sent flying back down the cliff, tumbling through it and getting bruised. He didn't expect that, instead expecting a punch or something, so he's sent clear down. Is he...already dead? No, Empty Tidings would know that's too easy, and it is. He clutches part of the cliff side, and channels essence through his body, soaring upwards and towards Tidings. He moves to go over and on top of her, coming down with a spinning kick to push her back and take the high ground, aimed for center-mass. It's nothing too special, but his essence is still strengthening his legs, so it'll hurt if it impacts.
Lezard Valeth Tomoe wasn't really a major threat in Lezard's estimation. He's seen this kind of combatant before: Someone who is focused on protection and guarding the lives of others.

Foolishness. That's a job for the dead.

The fireball response is something he might not have been expecting, but a magical attack is nothing he can't handle. The Philosopher's Stone moves out front, forming a page-barrier before him in a thin but potent shield, the sparkling words creating a defense stronger than steel. The blast hits it and washes around him, scorching him nonetheless, but he tries to ignore that in favor of readying his next attack. "It must have been a poor game if you survived it." He deadpans as magic gathers around him again...

And then Finna engages in her shenanigans. The stealthy, tricky Exalt gets right into position to cause problems as the bow punches an arrow straight through the minor demon with little trouble. The Hapry falls, shrieking as it ignites and scorches away, dead before it even hits the ground.

Finna is not fortunate enough to say the same about Lezard, however. He does plummet with a satisfying speed, but he halts moments before impact with the ground, magic seething around him. His hand moves up and he touches the long wound across his chest, grunting for a moment. "That was close." He says, even as he feels the painful toxin spread through him. He grits his teeth and spreads his hands. "So, this is how it is to be? Very well. I will strike you both down for your foolishness. PRISMATIC MISSILE!"

As he calls out, countless spheres of multicolored light streak outwards, bombarding the pair with seething arcs of burning energy. Some bubble with poison, others crackle with petrifying force. Still more flash and detonate nearby in an attempt to stun and disorient. It's a cacphonic barrage of pain that homes in on both of them!
Starbound Flotilla     It's hardly steel that All-Seeing Eye's bolts are tearing through. Not only are these things made out of Luthe technology, but the Flotilla has long developed a variety of metals they call pseudochalcums -- substances refined like orichalcum might be, but around entirely different types of stars, in mirrored industrial refinery-satellites -- and those are well-integrated among their arsenal as well.

    Which sadly has nothing to do with their resistance against the immaterial bolts. It's just that, instead of ghosting through the pseudochalcum, the bolts are just very brutally piercing, slamming into the interior and crashing into Albert's body, and battering Biteblade's armor. "Gaaaah! Floran isss hit!" She calls out through clenched teeth, while the heavy gunship wobbles slightly. The gunfire falters slightly as Albert's operations have a gap for him to bandage the wounds. "/Ugh/. Ssso what, all you now jussst decide no more talking? No principle, no reassson for thingsss? What isss point of any of thisss then? Floran huntsss big prey becaussse big prey wantsss to live. Now you want sssomething elssse, but you don't even sssay why."

    "Alert. Shield strength at seventy five percent!"
    "Further incoming attacks from Armstrong."
    "I see 'em." Pavo mutters, zipping around the air with an abrupt and sudden burst of speed. She maneuvers it enough to somehow shoot down the light-ray show, blasting apart the integrity of the rays with her main pilot's gun. The airbursts are too close for comfort, rattling the ship, but at least they didn't smash open her cockpit. "And I'll ground 'em. Spooky's too occupied... Lezard! /Smite/ that little bitch! We've got business with whiplash over here!" She barrel-rolls her entire gunship abruptly, dispersing the redirected missiles into airbursts that are easier to bear on the energy field of the shield.

    "You again." Moonfin says, eyes audibly triple-narrowed at All-Seeing Eye just over the radio. "It seems violence was too much tolerance for your interference at Ghirapur. A mistake that I shall not make a second time. Now we pursue a more permanent solution. Biteblade, grant him the gift of new hardware." On-call, Biteblade turns her heavy side-turret towards All-Seeing Eye and fires an absolutely massive rod of exotic pseudo-magical materials that's meant to impale All-Seeing Eye dead-on.

    "Not going to get a second chance to assault our benefactor. Fox seven. Core is tiger." Albert says, grunting. He's got a tone of loyalty to his voice and to the sweeping laser attacks that he follows up with, a half-dozen turrets with constant beams whooshing over the terrain and trying to slice ASE's body. "You'll regret failing the first time."
Empty Tidings Empty Tidings does not suddenly start monologuing about all her plans to destroy the Silver Prince in the presence of one of her enemies. This is largely because her opponent gets flung over a cliff, and there's really no point if they can't hear you monologue.

She steps up to the cliffside, looking down. Wandering Dog comes vaulting up. Tidings skips back a half-step, lifting her left arm and meeting his swift attack with a quick block. Her hand catches his foot, and she twirls atop the stair, pushing him to continue the rotation of his spin-kick while she skillfully redirects the force of it into open air.

"You're quick," she says, mid-rotation. "But --!"

Empty Tidings finishes her twirl, coming back at him with a spinning backhand while he's still mid-air. She has no intention of giving enough ground to let him get back on the stairs. The sea will take care of him for her if she lets it.
Wandering Dog Wandering Dog's kick is blocked, and he's about to be backhanded. He can't quite avoid that at this speed...but he can take Empty Tidings down with him. As he's hit and sent flying back, he twirls his body in mid air, grabbing her arm with both of his legs and suddenly pulling back to yank her off the stairs with him. His hands move to grab the cliff side as he falls, as he tries to keep his grip on Tiding's arm long enough to slam her into the side of it when he makes his cliff grab. "And you're good. I might even take you seriously!"

Part of him considers if it's time to show it off. The only time he's ever really used his most powerful abilities was against Leviathan. Would it be worth it to show the enemy what he has to offer?
All-Seeing Eye      The Exalt gives the gunship an incredulous look, as if he can't believe Biteblade wouldn't understand why he's here. Matter-of-factly, and with a gesture towards Revelations, he scoffs as he falls back to the earth. "She must die!" His feet hit the ground. Eye sees the rod coming, much in the same way that he sees everything. That doesn't make him fast enough to get out of the way. He certainly keeps moving, of course. But he's used to attacking from positions of surprise, and that element is not on his side in this fight.

     He attempts to do a sideways somersault away at the last minute, his HUD advising him of his best options. The rod pierces clean through his shoulder, yanking him off-course and pinning him to the ground with a grisly impalement. His inky black lifeblood drips down the length of the projectile, and he tries in vain to pull himself free. The beams of Albert's lasers blow away portions of the landscape and Eye alike, kicking up clouds of dust and splatters of light-drinking Alchemical Soulsteel blood.

     As the ship flies overhead to make a pass, Eye lashes out with a whip, catching a ride and letting the Flotilla's own invention pull him free of the impalement. "And you," growls the Alchemical, his internal motors pulling him up along the whip's length like a zipline, "...are in my way!" His clothes are ruined, in tatters and blacked by lasers and his own blood alike. But he refuses to give in, tethering himself to the craft's fuselage with a whip from one ankle. He swings around and around it, attempting to lacerate the hull with frantically yet purposefully swung lashes from the whips on his wrists, his free leg, the cables hidden in his long, raven hair, and two lengths of materialized purple lightning.
Finna     Finna would crow and cheer were this situation less intense. A nasty monster is SLAIN and a problematic spellcaster is plunging for the black drink below! She begins to show a joyous, childish grin of victory as her dragonfly wings thrum at the air to hold her aloft like some kind of weird foxgirl-fairy who's VERY out of place to say the least...

    But nope. It's not to be. She can FEEL the surge from him a moment before it happens, setting her on edge and bidding her retrieve another arrow from her quiver. She's halfway through by the time he begins to cast his spell... and Lezard's unexpectedly profound constitution for what appears to be just a human sorcerer gives her pause. And much cause for concern. Why isn't he toppling over already, plunging into the water, and drowning like planned...?!

    "Better than I expected, sorcerer." A glance is aimed over at Tomoe. She still isn't sure what to make of that weirdo girl and her twisted-up philosophy... but once again she finds herself teaming up with her, if distantly.

    Too bad though, there's no time to really plan what to do next. "You're just the EPITOME archetype of a sorcerer in his tower, y'know that?!" She trash-yammers down at him as the streams of light home in on her. Well, she's not going to just stand there and take it. Finna zooms into motion, zigging and zagging back and forth, and nimbly avoiding the first few rushes of them. It's a delicate aerial dance of spinning around on multiple axis and contortions that require one to be double-jointed to be possible at all, a display of coordination that the human mind could never process on the fly without practice. And yet, somehow, Finna's instincts guide her true.

    ... The first time.

    Thinking the problem over, she returns to matters of her bow, and taking aim on Lezard... only for the telltale sizzle of magic behind her to put a stop to that. "Weren't those--?!" BAM!!

    A multi-colored explosion sends Finna tumbling down from the sky, her dragonfly wings shredded, along with a good deal of her clothes. One arm is mangled to the point of uselessness and she can feel the sting of an unfamiliar poison in her own veins now. One that she instantly sets her blood to conquering and expunging. But that will take time and stamina...

    Those are in pretty short supply when one is plunging at terminal velocity towards the ocean below.

    However, therein lies the rub. Down below is Lezard... and Finna is picking up speed.

    Forsaking all pretense of saving her strength at this point, she lets loose with a primal roar that the Silver Pact would be proud of. Once again her form bursts outwards, taking on the mighty werefox appearance. Gleaming silver claws are bared, aglow with furious Essence.

    And unseen to all, gills open on her neck.

    DOWN she comes. Down, down, DOWN upon the sorcerer who just barely managed to stop himself from hitting the water.

    Her good clawed hand lashes out at the last moment, raking down to try and tear into Lezard's flesh. Anywhere at all is fine. As long as she can ensure that she impacts gainst him with maximum force...

    And does her damndest to send them both into the black depths.

    Where, at least for a short while, SHE can breathe and maneuver with impunity.

    She's pretty sure that the same can't be said of most sorcerers!
Empty Tidings Tidings' momentum is turned against her. She grazes Wandering Dog -- and then he turns her turnabout into a second reversal, ruining her footing. The smooth stairs are no place for mere mortal footwear, even if the one in it isn't quite that.

Down she goes.

Tidings plummets. There's a sharp cacophonic ringing as she tips over the edge, the bells in her hair marking her position while Wandering Dog does his best to plant her face against the sheer cliff they're both trying to find handholds on. Except while the Dog tries to grab hold of one, Tidings makes her own. To wit:

The red-gloved lady swings towards the cliff face. She thrusts her right hand forward, pounding her closed fist into the rock wall and cracking the surface. The impact shudders up her arm, and the rest of her hits the stone surface, albeit much more slowly. She grunts, "'Might?'" Her eyes flash. Her shadow lengthens.

A sudden chill finds its way up Wandering Dog's arm. The universe begins to conspire against him, a bitter curse settling in to loosen his grip on his narrow handhold and subject him to the cruelties of gravity -- and to the other Exalted clinging to him, who intends to pancake him one-handed against the cliffside on their way down and use it like a cheese grater.

He's the Romano.
Tomoe Tomoe knows the job she has, and that someone has to do it. She's seen many like Lezard before too, some of which she's put down for good. He's not a rabid animal though he's got a clear set of goals and will go after them by any means necessary. She expects this to be had,

"Your likely the most dangerous one working for her."

Tomoe notes, she gets on the move as he cast some sort of missile attack. She knows those are never good though the Harpy is down which leave her able to get to Leazard more easily what she didn't expect was Finna to come right for Lezard.

The spell hits her it's bad the magic washes over her but some of it doesn't seem to work, on her Tomoe seems to fight off the side effects of it, it hurts though it hurts a lot. She's not down though and she keeps going right for Lezard her sword glowing brightly as she preps a Sword Art, and will launch herself at Lezard. She has some unexpected support with Finna which will let her mix it up some more, her blade strike come in rapid succession three in total, one high one low and the last one is aligned to the middle. She has to wonder about Finna, too but right now it's enough she doesn't want to see Bloody Revelations and her allies succeed.
Wandering Dog The two go plummeting down, and though Wandering Dog tries to make a handhold as he slams her into the wall, he suddenly loses his grip. He moves to plummet, and then is grabbed by Tidings, pancaked into the cliff side and grated against sharp rocks, bleeding and getting scraped up. He pushes out of it quickly, kicking against the wall and moving to push Tidings back into the air, before he flips around and moves to land feet first onto the cliff-side. A colorful banner of primarily black, blue, and green starts to form around him, with little 'roads' inside the anima symbolizing pathways, though the banner starts getting inky and oily. "Fine. You want me to take you seriously?"

"Have you ever seen the Blossom of the Perfected Lotus?"

Wandering Dog stops feet-first on the side of the cliff, essence holding him there. Having hopefully sent flying back, he waits for her to return to land on the cliff-side...and then he starts crackling with lightning. It's bright and powerful, as he starts running, and promptly disappears. He reappears behind Empty Tidings, dangerous and harmful lightning appearing in a trail where he 'travelled', moving to try and strike her hard into the cliff with an open-handed strike. She'll feel razor-sharp cuttings, as something slices into her, if it hits.

"I am the Wandering Dog, and I have done the impossible. I've reached the blossom! Can you say the same?" If she gets a good look at what's cutting her...she'll notice that it's coming from crystalline claws. How peculiar.
Bloody Revelations     Once again, with a battle exploding all around her, Bloody Revelations holds a position of dramatic importance but of small tactical use. Amidst the explosions of missiles, crackle of lightning whips, clash of hand to hand combat, and eruptions of spells, she stands atop the wind and rain-slicked, storm-worn platform, up to the elbow in eye gore, and continues channeling her energy. The chill in the air continues to plunge, going from simply palpable to manifesting on its surroundings, turning seawater into slick black ice, twisting the wind around Haggard's Eye in a steadily building vortex, building up a wailing keen like the shrieks of the dead. The blue beam fades away, starting to be replaced with a flickering scarlet red light, faint, but building.

    Blood goes from simply dripping off the Abyssals arm to oozing. Working her fist and the hearthstone in even further, she hisses sharply with a bout of prolonged agony severe enough for even her draw notice. The amount of Essence she's pumping into the thing is completely insane, beyond what anyone would use on such a thing, and beyond what she should actually be able to. All the while, she shuts out the world around her, focusing only of pouring the tremendous energy of death, if not something worse, out through her still too-human flesh, and rapid, breathless whispering that at first sounds like a chant. Catching snippets of it over the fluctuating whippets of shrieking ice gale, none of it has any occultic significance though. She's talking, as if to someone or something.

    "Now what are you doing all the way out there? So far far beyond the Sea yet never in the sun nor chaos. Out into the Uncreated. Lost, are we? But I have a light, and the light is yours; you have only to follow it back. Come on, don't by shy now! Listen and follow; you have no need for eyes. You-NNNGH! you're a fierce one, aren't you?"

    The caste mark on her brow darkens into existence, turning the black of a bruise, then a burn, then ink, then a void, issuing a trickle of blood down her face and turning on the bridge of her nose. Even in the Underworld, the air around her can be seen going dark, plunging she and her surroundings into a short of 'photo black' that causes that which is at the edge of her personal space to seem brighter by contrast, as if surrounded in a growing bonfire of blackness, limmed in stark white fog, where all the expressiveness of reality is pushed aside by her upwelling of power; a halo of expulsed and displaced visual information contrasted against its absence.

    The throbbing of the hearthstone, or perhaps the eye now, is loud as a drumbeat. The blood vessels wound into its ethereal optic nerve cord can be seen violently pulsing, causing the onyx spire to vibrate enough to bounce gravel and debris. Taking slow, laborious steps around its circumference, Bloody Revelations steers it to face the west, out into the who-knows-what at the edge of the Sea of Shadows where the Wyld doesn't exist. Her Anima builds around her in a sudden flare, like a brick of kindling tossed into an ongoing fire. It's plainly abnormal, being almost comparable to the Mask of Winters' in its unformed, near-totemic state.

    "He's being ever so reluctant, but he'll come." she says, this time loud enough to be properly heard. "This step is important, so *handle* them!" She has no sooner finished talking than a wide, low wave appears rolling in from the horizon, gliding over the mirror-flat surface of the Sea of Shadows and crashing into the western face of the rocks. A few seconds later, another one appears, like gigantic ripples in a glass.
Starbound Flotilla "Worried. He's tearing through the hull! We're at fifty percent integrity!"
"Floran hasss no shot!"
"No tally on the bandit. Evade!"
"Like hell I can evade, he's latched on tight! Get out there and do something or I won't be shaking this goddamn blasphemous son of a bitch!"
"George!"
"Go fuck yourself, I'm not /going out there/."
"Take over my station!"
"Wait, what the--"

"Star Two-- Haruto! What are you doing?!"
"What should have been done in Ghirapur."
"Hey, man! You can't take him close-quarters alone in this state!"
"We must ensure he does not reach Bloody Revelations, no matter what."
"I'll be blessing you, Moonie. Get out there and /cut him in half!/"

    A hatch slams open, releasing hydraulic steam in a tremendous rush. Moonfin clambers out, heavy durasteel armor clamping to the floor with magnetic boots. "Fourth Sea Hylotl Style: Tumultuous Seas!" He calls out, drawing his blade and dashing for the man mid-swing. His flurry of katana strikes is designed to not only lash through the man himself, but also to force him away, force him to stop that infernal swinging, and press him into range of countermeasures and weapons, a vast array of turrets aboard the craft whose limited range of aiming make for geometric danger zones.

    Biteblade and Albert open fire as well, with lighter fire than before but still quite a dangerous rush of it. The Flotilla have little interest in letting him stay aboard, and Pavo is maneuvering /strangely/; she's still over the island, even though it would make more sense to drop All-Seeing Eye dead on into the water, right? It might be hard to focus on that while Moonfin rushes... And shouts, while he does, transmitted in radio too, not just the windy air.
Lezard Valeth Tomoe is loyal unto death. She has been hardened by her many travails. She is a good hero. Unfortunately, Lezard has Opinions about heroes. "Flattery will get you nowhere." He replies to Tomoe, adjusting his glasses with a little arrogant smirk. He arches an eyebrow as she manages to repel the more deleterious effects of the magic, and his smirk becomes a scowl. "Well well, you have a few tricks yourself, I see."

And she's right in his face then. The three strikes come out in rapid succession, something anyone would have a problem dealing with. Even Lezard flicks a hand, using his mystic tome to block the incoming attacks. The first and second are deflected, but the third pushes past his defenses, causing him to take another long wound against his body. "Ggh! BEGONE!" He grunts, and he raises a hand, preparing to counterattack...

when Finna makes her attack. He stopped paying attention to the Lunar, something he might regret... were he capable of such in this context. He expected the beastkin to end up plummeting into the waves just like she did him. Unfortunately for him, he happens to be on a line for her descent, and she drops down, impacting him with a colossal strike. He shrieks for a moment as he is torn into, the impact driving him into the water with them...

And in the brackish, dark depths, energy glows, reflecting off Lezard's glasses ominously. Power roars around him, surging as he begins to channel the energy he had been cycling and compounding the entire battle. "You foolish beast. Who do you think you are dealing with?" He cries out, the water sublimating around him into a tempest of vile steam. "I am he who hath entrusted himself to the eternal vortex of time! Ye know me! And if ye do not know me, ye shall be MADE TO KNOW ME! IT SHALL BE ENGRAVED UPON THY VERY SOUL.... LEZARD VALETH!"

He raises his hands to the sky. "Now /die/."

A moment later, the ocean parts as a massive spike of sorcerous power roars into the non-sky of the Underworld once more, shattering into a million motes.

             "Ye of detestable name and vitrue, false apostle!              
                    Thou art bade back into the Abyss!"                    

The motes surge, gathering together high above into a miniature blazing star, that suddenly shears downwards in a massive beam. The strike shears away stone, consuming ocean as he strikes from Hell's Heart towards the Lunar.

Tomoe isn't even the target of the attack and the backwash strikes at her with a murderous heat and dissolving power.

                              "SERAPHIC LAW!"                              
Empty Tidings Empty Tidings loses her grip in a dramatic fashion. Wandering Dog breaks free and pushes her away, and she gets cast through the air, dropping like a stone. She seems to stutter, reality becoming unsteady around her --

She's against the cliffside below Wandering Dog, a bit of a ways down. Her right hand digs into the cliffside. Her left holds onto a narrow crack. Her feet scramble for purchase, but find it without more than the slightest bit of embarrassing flailing. She looks down and momentarily regrets it. She looks up, and she feels that /throb/ of power, the drumbeats from beyond her opponent. She should just skip past him with this borrowed trick and interrupt it.

...And miss this opportunity? Not likely. "The Blossom of --"

Wandering Dog vanishes in a burst of lightning. He reappears behind her, hewing through silk and skin with crystal claws. Blood colors the edges, but, like many of the Chosen, she simply refuses to bleed for long. She screams, but it sounds more like it's in surprise than in agony. She's used to pain. This is another torment heaped onto the pile, but one with such a delicious pay-off at the end...!

Tidings turns. She kicks out into the air to make some room, releasing the cliff wall with one hand, and then swings herself back in. She hammers her right hand into the cliff, fractures rippling outward. A wash of viridian light erupts from inside of it, shining momentarily before turning black as pitch, solid shadow erupting from under the surface. It peels the rock face like an orange, cracking off huge, flat shards of it and making that whole side of the fort shudder.

Empty Tidings plants her feet on one such shard, stepping along it and balancing impossibly. She angles it towards Wandering Dog, surfing it away from the cliffside to attack him in mid-air amidst the stone rain. She leads with an overhand blow with her right hand, chopping downward, and then follows with a fierce uppercut with her left. Before she's even finished the follow-through, she's blurring into another pair of crosses, one after another, an unnaturally fast combination attack in the midst of an impossible battlefield.

A disk of utter blackness rests on her brow. Green light, shot through with black and violet, begins to roll off of her body in flaking waves. Her face is nonetheless split with a smile of almost monastic placidity, totally out of place in a demeanor full of violent glee.

"Show me more," she sighs, happy as can be.
All-Seeing Eye      Eye swings back up, inky black storm clouds trailing behind him like smoke from a burning turbine engine. The champagne diamond in his forehead crackles with brilliant flashes of purple electricity. As he comes around for another pass, Moonfin's strike slices one of his whips away. Another lashes out to take its place and keep him from being left behind, but as he moves to regain his footing, he is caught by Biteblade and Albert's attacks, the projectiles punching holes through his chest and legs.

     He collides with the fuselage, rolling between point defense turrets, some of which manage to nail him with attacks of opportunity. Getting back to his feet with a kip-up, he unwinds one whip and ensnares a nearby turret for use as footing, binding it to keep it from firing on him at the same time. As Moonfin advances, he makes a counterattack.

     "Live Wire Style: Lightning Supremacy Reversal!" With a gentle but quick upwards sweep of his hand, both his wrist-mounted whip and the band of solid lightning in his hand snap towards Moonfin. They swirl in an agile double helix, homing in on his wrists to wrap around and electrocute him, in an effort to disarm the Hylotl. The attack is quick and efficient, and he doesn't prolong it even if it hits. Now is not the time for sadism, more's the pity.

     "Darling, /no,/" chuckles Eye, his anima still swirling, blown about by the intense winds. He casually twirls the whips of the other hand, just enough to keep them from blowing in the wind as his raven hair does behind him. "I AM the law."
Wandering Dog Wandering Dog slashes into Empty Tidings, but she kicks him back, forcing room. As she hammers into the cliff, making platforms, the martial artist moves to land, but gets slammed by the stone rain, as well as the chopping slam and powerful uppercut. He forces himself to power through it as she strikes into him over and over, and she'd feel that she cracked something, or several somethings, in the process. Her caste mark reveals, and Wandering Dog's never seen it before.

"What the hell are you?"

Using his full limbs to make sure he doesn't fall off the cliff, running back up it, the lightning still trails around him, and the crystal claws coming out of his finger nails are still present. He decides to add another element, as suddenly, he moves to grab Tiding's at the closest angle he can, and then his body starts to heat up. Not with fire - all the water from the moisture and his sweat begins to burn, as does the water essence that starts to flow through his hands, and it turns into steam. He moves to scald her hot enough to inflict really bad wounds if she wasn't an Exalt, shouting out as he tries to push the two of them up the cliff in the process to get more room away from the water.

"Third Path - Flowing Steam Grab!"
Tomoe Tomoe is up close and personal with Lezard she's well aware of some of his history, she knows he was a powerful officer in the fed and outlived it. That alone is enough to be wary of the man, she gets her hits in but soon he's launching a counter attack. It seems that Lezard has something in mind and it isn't going to be good for hee, then Finna happens. It's so fast she almost misses it, but as that spell is being chanted? There's nothing he can do for Finna at this point.

She sees Lezard going like that, damn he is pissed to be going that far. She makes use of her oldest skill her personality Agility and mobility. The one notable skill she has from before SAO happened. She moves she moves for all she's worth as she doesn't even want to get caught in the backwash of that powerful spell.

She's just barely able to keep clear of it but Finna doesn't seem to be so lucky. She can't do anything about that now and she rushes back in right at Lezard opening up in a savage combo of sword strikes which she follows up with a shield slam.
Starbound Flotilla "Fuck! Moonie's stuck there! Eye's got him on a line!"
"Stressed. We need to /do something/!"
"I'm skimming that goddamn blasphemer before he takes advantage."
"No! You'll drop Haruto if you do!"
"Dumb fishface isss up there for a reassson! He knowsss risssk!"
"Do it. Moonie! If you can hear me, grab on!"

"Banking to eleven!"
"Watch the tower!"
"Get me eyes, Bitey!"
"Ten degreesss left! Roll five! Cut engine for a sssecond!"
"Everyone HANG ON!"

    "Ghhhhaaaaaaaaargh!" Moonfin is caught in the lash, broken out of his rush by the pain of the electrocution that he's been often so eager to dish out. "You follow your laws and your rules and they are the excuse you can find comfort in when the bodies pile up. I despise the act of violence, machine-man, but know this: We do what we must for the sake of a brighter and more beautiful future."

    His eyes are burning with determination. "The law is a crutch, a funnel of responsibility. You are the law -- and so why would you change to fit the needs of a world broken by mad creators, insolent divinities, and short-sighted mortals? And when bodies pile high, you will be free of guilt, for you only followed your /duty/."

    "Mine is an ever grander responsibility. I shall make a beautiful world." Moonfin says, then his boots light up brightly as magnetic systems kick in. And the gunship's engines... Cut, briefly, as the thing sort of shears delicately along the upper segment of the lighthouse. Moonfin ducks low as he can to avoid the damage, and Pavo tries to make All-Seeing Eye slam hard into the side...

    And then Moonfin doesn't let go of the whip that entangled him. Instead he LEAPS, blade ready, trying to tackle All-Seeing Eye into the air. He's trying to make sure he's above and ready to strike when they slam into the ground, and not be on the reciving end of the impact.
Empty Tidings Wandering Dog gets away. He goes up the cliff as the chunks of stone -- and Tidings -- falls down it. Tidings refuses to be ignored, turning on the shard and leaping up the falling pieces of rock like she was vaulting up an escalator the wrong way, and fast enough to actually ascend. A haze of flickering green follows her, some kind of foreign light that trails behind her and leaves a weird scent of something not quite like ozone in the dead air.

He grabs for her, and she makes no move to stop him. He ascends, bursting into a cloud of scaling steam. Her skin reddens, her eyes widening and her expression momentarily seeming to falter even as that strange mark drinks in what little light there is to take. A stifled scream escapes her lips as she's quite literally steamed alive, put in constant danger the longer she remains within arm's reach of him.

Which is unfortunately true for him, too.

Tidings wraps her arms around him. She squeezes tightly -- too tightly. She's horrifyingly strong, She puts her face next to his, smiling indulgently, the fingers on her right hand digging in behind his right shoulder and tightening into a claw. It feels like her fingers are made of stone, with a grip strong enough to break skin and tear muscle. She twists that hand, all the while crushing him against her.

"The Monster," Tidings purrs. "Answers belong only to the victor, Dog."
Finna     Well. This... looks bad.

    That was a LOT of force to absorb, and yet Finna manages to deal with the jarring blow of slamming Lezard into the water at terrific speed. An impact that can't have been comfortable for him, she'd hope.

    When the water begins to boil she simply backflips, somersaulting until she lands on the water, skidding backwards and panting for breath while wringing her arm out. Silvery rings of light radiate from where her feet touch the water, somehow allowing her to walk on it... and backpedal as Lezard not only COMES THROUGH that onslaught, but seemingly isn't even winded.

    HOW?

    The Lunar rapidly considers her options. Which way to flee? Where to hide and re-evaluate this mess?

    But there's no time to deal with that. Here comes MORE OF THAT CRAZY MAGIC!

    "So damned full of yourself... hah.... you have... no idea... who you're...." She can only focus her spirit as the onslaught of light approaches. Focus it straight into her flesh. The white fur ripples like a disturbed lake, warping weirdly as the light strikes---

    And everything goes white in the flare of FAR too much magical energy.

    And yet... when the light dies down... two dozen wildly distorted, and distended ribbons of liquid-Finna rebound like rubber bands coated in mercury. Of course, the Finna that's reassembled in the middle of that mess is...

    Diminished. Dramatically. The arm that before was mangled is gone, a bloody stump. She's missing a very curious zigzaggy pattern of fur in long, painful, scorched patches. And she's lost a LOT of weight. Much of it is healthy fat, but some of it is unmistakably muscle mass. And there's no telling what happened to her innards.

    And yet... she's still standing. If... just barely. "Dealing... with." She finally pants out, staggering forward and nearly losing her balance.

    One must really, well and truly ask: what just HAPPENED there? How did she survive what SHOULD have been complete vaporization? What's this girl MADE OF, anyways?

    "I'll concede this round, but this matter's not over..." Gathering a fair amount of strength. she dives back beneath the waves and quickly vanishes.
Wandering Dog Wandering Dog uses the steam grab, but he isn't aware Infernal Monster Style is a grappling style. Tidings wraps her arms around him, and tightens her fingers into his his shoulder, strong enough that it begins to tear apart his muscles and break his skin, crushing him. He's also running low on juice...he needs to do something. That means more martial arts.

Wandering Dog's anima grows brighter, as his shoulder suddenly turns into metal, and it starts to coat his body, spreading down his shoulders and over his arms, allowing him to mitigate the blow and shrug most of it off. He flexes, his steel body strong enough to try and force out of her grip, before he turns to gain some slight distance from her, pushing down and trying to keep his feet on the cliffside. Perhaps they'll just stop there, with how rooted into it he is.

"Fourth Path - Metal Body Technique!"

Wandering Dog starts punching. Over, and over, and over again. It'd just be a flurry of fast blows, normally, but they're made of metal, which doesn't slow them down at all. The steam has stopped, in return for a salvo of steel blows. "This is the last one I'll show you...won't need the rest for this fight. Saving them to show the Silver Prince what I'm like at my peak!"
All-Seeing Eye      The lightning whips in Eye's hands disappear, and he begins to smile. Does he... hear what the rest of the Flotilla is saying? Can he see something that Moonblade doesn't? Only the whip which tethers him to the ship remains. Though his eyes are locked on Moonfin, his attention is... elsewhere. "We want the same thing," admits the Exalt. Lightning sparks once from his soulgem. "My way is just more... direct." The moment the airship's engines cut, Eye springs into action. Pavo's sudden shifting of the gunship is exactly what he wants. The Exalt simply planks, leaning into the forced fall and zipping past Moonfin. The tackle strikes his solar plexus hard, and Eye rips the whip from his own arm to prevent any further interference. It snaps, and the internal motors which govern the weapon's length spark and sputter in protest, sending up a cloud of black smoke from the hardpoint.

     At first it looks like he's just committed suicide, forcing himself into free-fall. That is not the case.

     His fall is taking him on a collision course with Bloody Revelations, and the whole time he wears a beatific smile. With both steel cables out of comission, his only remaining whips are those on his ankles, his hair, and... the two bands of electric energy, which now re-form.

     The lightning whips lash out for Revelations' throat as Eye goes zipping past at the gunship's speed, aiming to wrap around her and yank her all the way down to the bottom with him. Targeting reticules light up all over her body in his field of vision, and every single one of his remaining armaments, crossbows and eyecannons alike, fire a volley up after her, seeking to make her into a pincushion in case the fall doesn't kill her.

     She wanted to be taken seriously? This is that.
Lezard Valeth Lezard rises out of the vaporized water, the black fluid steaming off of him in the last rays of the massive blast. Finna, of course, lives. Tricksy fox. "Bravado ill fits you. Begone, lest I decide to keep you and find some use for your pitted form." Finna vanishes with her parting words, and Lezard turns to deal with the other matter.

The other matter, of course, being the woman who is a classic sword and board fighter. Lezard pulls in more energy, attempting to find the power to drive back the assault, but he gets crashed into, stabbed over and over. In the aftermath of that massive assault, Tomoe caught Lezard's guard down, and he pays for it. He falls back to the floor of the fort, blood flowing from his many wounds as he grits his teeth. "This is not over yet!" He hisses, and lashes out with the book, an eruption of dark magic rolling forth. "DARK SAVIOR!" He cries out, a multitude of dark blades striking out to rain down upon Tomoe from all angles.
Tomoe Tomoe did not expect to catch Lezard as she did, she's pretty sure that it was luck and she knows it. She knows he could drop another massive spell on her head and just wreck her. She knows that she tries to not let her guard down and that's what saves her as the next attack comes.

"No it's not over yet."

She will make use of the mourning wall to deflect a large portion of the attack others get through she gets hammered with the rest and she's still wary as the dark magic keeps coming after her. She comes out the otherwise worse for wear but he's still alive.

She keeps her blade at the ready and she'll move again she rushes she does not directly attack Lezard she'll dash to the side and strike for his flank on the way by.

"I am not done either!"
Lezard Valeth Just as Tomoe comes in to strike Lezard from the side, Lezard sweeps away, the blade catching the edge of his tattered cape and little more. "That has yet to be /decided/." Lezard comments, then swapping tactics. There is a wash of black power as he calls upon the Dark, and a large, unwieldy-looking gnarled staff of corroded black wood manifests in his hand. With a sudden motion, the Sorceror of Midgard goes physical, slamming ringing blow after blow down upon that shield.

The impacts hit much harder than one might expect, the nerdy sorceror apparently being in more than top physical condition, the staff striking like a sledgehammer as he spins and suddenly goes low, using a tactic of dirty fighters since time immemorial.
Starbound Flotilla "Wh-- There's no contact!"
"No grapple, he's got no grapple!"
"God /damn/ it! I'm getting him!"
"Eye's going for Revelations!"
"Move under! NOW!"
"PUNCHING IT!"
"Floran isss jumping!"
"Panicked. Moonfin! Moonfin, are you okay?!"
"I shall survive this! Just go!"
"Haruto!"

    Moonfin tumbles free without a grip on All-Seeing Eye. His body surges with panic. Gotta stop this fall! He slams hard into one side of the lighthouse, tumbles, and extends one big katana blade out to plunge into the side of the tower, using it to arrest his motion as the blade thankfully doesn't cleave the tower in half in some unrealistic Exalted display. He holds onto the hilt for dear life, staring up to the fate of his foe...

    Pavo slams the acceleration on her gunship. "NO YOU DON'T, YOU BLASPHEMOUS MOTHERFUCKER, I'LL MAKE THIS MIRACLE WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS!" And she floors it towards All-Seeing Eye, intent on, at the very least, keeping Bloody Revelations from being plunged TOO FAR down the tower by being a better platform to land on, and hopefully limiting how long she might be distracted. She knows there's a Process that needs finishing, and she's desperate to keep it from being permanently aborted if she can help it. Biteblade leaps hard from the side-turret, trying to either batter Eye away or salvage things with Revelations, whatever she can in the potentially-entangled pair.
Bloody Revelations     Throughout the battle, the shuddering of the tower --of the entirety of Haggard's Keep-- grows stronger and louder, the wind picking up at a higher and higher pitch, greater and greater volume, becoming a howling vortex draw into the eye that hums with its own eerie cadence caused by the constant annihilation of air against its surface. The waves crash into the rocky cliff face more violently, growing taller with each iteration, either growing stronger, or growing *closer*. The seabed itself, however far below that may be, seems to shudder in a way that passes up through the slopes of the jagged island like a tingling spine, causing millennia old dust to unsettle from its hidden cracks and crevices.

    The bonfire of roiling shadow and bleached reality around Bloody Revelations grows to a tower, growing wider and wider, taller and taller, until it engulfs the entire exposed peak of the lighthouse, boiling over the edges with wisps of frigid smoke, now visible for miles around in place of the cool blue light that was once there instead. To stand at the top is to walk through a dense, choking blaze of the icy Essence of Oblivion; power more palpable and breathable than air. The Abyssal couldn't be called the eye of the storm, for the fact that would imply any kind of tranquility around her. Just approaching feels like fine layer of one's skin boiling away into nothingness.

    All-Seeing Eye, consumed by the red mist, goes for it anyways. Skimming the edge of the platform, just being close to an Anima of that power is painful, but that wouldn't deter him in the slightest. With her arm anchored in the horrible, unholy organ, Bloody Revelations could scarcely be an easier target in these moments of occult vulnerability, focusing all her energy and will into the unknowable ritual in front of her.

    Hails of crossbow and Essence bolts come streaking down on her from above on the high speed pass that may as well be a strafing run. The Alchemical himself is going even faster, arriving before his own ammunition does. Both whips of lightning crack over her shoulders, sparking severely on impact and coming back around in a coruscating arc about her neck, biting into the strange obsidian texture of her clothes and spewing sparks where they graze the black lotus choker. 'Eye feels the length snap taut, sees the Abyssals, lurch, reel back, and clutch at her throat, senses the discharge going down the whips to result in the ongoing blast of phosphorous white sparks at the end, all around her face.

    Pulled with such tremendous mass and speed, the Abyssal's arm exits Haggard's eye, drenched in blood, with the windows of exposed skin filled with holes --up to the wrist. Bloody Revelations' aura ripples and roars a fraction larger, and she stomps one heel after the other into the onyx top of the spire with such force that she drives both of them into foot deep craters. The hand clutching at the burning wires around her throat clenches its gloved fingers around the searing cables, and then the slack is *too* tight, the endpoint become a sudden mountain of rock; a pillar of irresistible freakish strength, outside of what even the Exalteds' peak bodies are known for. He can't hear her, over the utter chaos all around, stygian wind shrieking in his ears, but he can see the ugly burns on her pale skin, and the murderous expression in the eyes that look back to him, not contemptuous like a queen, but wild and mad like a beast only wishes it could be.
Bloody Revelations     Bloody Revelations snaps her fingers, and her free arm blazes with channels of molten light from within, veins of hellish red-gold glow tracing up her arm to concentrate white at her fingertips. Sparks of hissing, disintegrating blood fly from her fingers, and a storm of her 'signature' daggers explodes into life around her, tenfold more than she had used on occasion before to casually dispatch trash.

    Instead of flying at All-Seeing Eye, they fall into a whirling orbit around her, each molten blade spinning violently in dizzying patterns that paint ribbons of demonic light about her. With the daggers actually in the air for longer than a split second, he can hear the way that they *scream* in flight, warped and horrible, like a woman shrieking from the bottom of a well. Where the finishing barrage flies in to seal the deal, her own wall of Essence weapons shreds it to pieces, sending burning flinders of wood, blots of molten iron, and sparks of shattered lightning hither and thither, carving down anything capable of leaving more than a passing cut on her. The pitch of their scream warps and deepens, hitting the pitch of an enraged man, and then an inhuman, howling demon, suddenly fixing on him like a hundred hungry eyes.

    Her Anima finally flares Totemic; the first time in many years, between the raw power involved in the ritual and the technique she'd just deployed against All-Seeing Eye. The bonfire of Abyssal Essence disperses in the blink of an eye, blown out like a candle ahead of a haunting apparition, and something else takes its place, towering even higher, grander, and infinitely more significant than before.

    His first glimpse at Bloody Revelations' Anima Banner is that of a solar eclipse viewed from all sides. An orb of utter blackness limmed by the scarlet light of a perfectly occluded sun hovers high overhead, slowly burning with a crimson glow that casts the island into 'emergency mode' lighting. The halo of red surrounding it isn't steady; it melts away and forms a slow waterfall of luminescence below, pouring down to earth as if the eclipse were a bleeding wound in the flesh of the sky. It pools atop the spire and runs over its edges, where Bloody Revelations now shares the platform with a myriad other figures, dark, shadowy, and insubstantial. Vague and indefinite, half-imagined shades of men and women surround her on every sides, facing the eclipse in silent posture that suggests agony-stricken groveling and prayer. The crowd would be 'a lot' to anyone else, but to the all-seeing Alchemical, he counts precisely two hundred and ninety nine.

    That's all he gets before a hungry, soul-seeking swarm of screaming hell-daggers are chasing him through the orbit of the gunship, catching up on him in all but an instant as Pavo turns it into a swoop. Daggers away, her hand falls to the not-there hilt of that sword of unknown origin, and too quick and dreamlike to see, the lightning is parted clean in two without the slightest hint of kinetic feedback on his end.
Tomoe Tomoe is just getting hammered on here and Lezard gets up close with the evilest of martial arts. Sweep the leg and it works pretty damn well, she would guard for it from another melee fighter but Lezard? She was not expecting that she takes it, hard she takes it /very/ hard all things considered she's not done yet but it's looking like this story is going to go much the way of her last battle with the forces of Bloody Revelations, she keeps going. She's going to keep fighting she's not quite licked yet.

She's also got to keep in mind Lezard is very good with at Staff as well for the future. For the moment she keeps attacking Lezard, but she halts suddenly runes dance about her. Tomoe starts to chant, and she fires a bolt of fire right for Lezard, if he can mix it up, so can she.
Empty Tidings Tidings' hand squishes flesh and starts to get down to crushing bone -- and then is suddenly grinding against metal. She slows, but, alarmingly, doesn't completely stop -- her grip is starting to make even his iron body flex under the intense stress. The longer she holds on, the harder it is to shake her...!

But he does. He tenses and flexes, snapping the hold through martial skill and suddenly lacking the vulnerability of a squishy meat-body. Tidings releases him. They've ended up on a shelf under the stairs, torn there by Tidings' previous destructive pulse of Essence. Her caste mark, painfully dark to look upon, drinks in even the tines of green-and-black light that trail away from her like shadow-streaked after-images. It offers no hint as to what precisely it might represent.

A moment of calm. She steadies herself, standing one foot behind the other on the narrow, uneven ledge. It crumbles away underneath them. His Essence-rooted stance keeps him from falling, while she carefully balances and grips the uneven stone in the vertical crater with her left hand. She's still smiling. "Ah, wonderful! I'm honored to see such martial brilliance; even moreso, to /fight/ it! With that..." She takes a breath, exhaling breath like steam. "With that, you might have a chance against the Prince."

Wandering Dog comes at her. Empty Tidings meets him head-on, clashing fist to fist. She catches one blow with her palm, turning another aside with a swat of her right hand, and then immediately realizes she won't be able to keep up with him. He's just /better/ than she is. It's galling to admit, but while she might be a master martial artist, this is someone who has attained mastery in what might be more styles than she has personally fought against in her whole life. Attaining the Blossom of the Perfected Lotus is a thing that she can only dream of right now, and he -- someone whose body should not be capable of channeling such perfect flows of Essence -- is showing her exactly what it can do.
Empty Tidings So she cheats.

Obviously.

Wandering Dog's metal hands hammer into her but find nothing solid to hit. With a look of alarm on her previously-content face, she explodes into a substance like tar, her body breaking down into writhing shadows that come apart under his onslaught. The instant he stops, she seems to disintegrate completely, scattering like ash in the wind. It looks for a brief moment like he just punched her apart with his gleaming metal hands.

Empty Tidings abruptly rematerializes directly behind him. She appears on one knee, fist in the air, and slams her right hand into the ground. The shelf crumbles, Wandering Dog's footing literally disintegrating underneath him. Empty Tidings catches hold of him as he inevitably tries to turn to face her, looking up at him with her left hand extended to grab hold of his midsection. The streamers of green coming off her intensify, a bonfire of unnatural light from a foreign sun erupting around her body and filling the crevice, streaked with violet and pitch blackness.

"My turn," Empty Tidings says. She draws back her right hand, clenching it into a fist. "I like you." She smiles. "Remember to roll."

The bonfire of Essence around her suddenly intensifies. In the wake of such a tremendous outpouring of necrotic Essence above, the whipping aura of the demon-realm's green sun is not so great a thing. All around her, though, shapes move, curling out along the edges of the crater she's torn in the towering edifice: fingers, gnarled and long, curling along the ragged rim like they were trying to widen a wound. Smaller ones grasp Wandering Dog's shadow, plucking and picking at it, seemingly peeling it apart in the infernal radiance. Tidings blinks suddenly, and tears streak down her face, tinted weirdly yellow and staining her eyes the same. Her smile comes back a second later, wordless.

She bellows. She swings. The instant before her hand connects, a spark of green ignites between herself and the Dragon-Blooded. It detonates like a nuclear bomb, erupting into a sun-bright flare of seething emerald and viridian. The blast and the impact is tremendous, and comes the instant she releases him with her other hand. All of her immense, unholy strength bears down on him in a singular blow, translating what should be deadly energy into nothing but full-force contact along his whole body. The acceleration is enough to break a mortal's neck; he might still have to deal with whiplash.

The sudden stop at the end -- twenty miles away, out over the sea -- might be another problem. Tidings wants to see if she can hurl him straight back to Creation. Let's see if he sticks the landing.
All-Seeing Eye      She is still alive. How can she still be alive? There is not fear on All-Seeing Eye's face as he watches Bloody simply shred his projectiles, but confusion. She didn't have her little friend helping her. He caught her completely by surprise. Not even the scum in the gunship could stop him. It's a confused squint that he wears as the swarm of daggers tears through his skin, which even now cracks and wears away like clay rather than burning and bubbling like human flesh.

     He had thought that he wouldn't need the upgrades, if he could just catch her unaware. If he could just make one, decisive strike, that would end it, and he wouldn't have to admit to anyone that he wasn't strong enough. He had thought wrong. And that thought occupies his mind so much that even when one of her daggers cuts an ugly gash in his crumbling face, revealing the inscrutable mechanical underpinnings...

     He is at a loss.

     Daggers crush and pierce servos, rendering any attempt to escape Pavo's dive bomb futile. The ship slams into Eye, sending him spiraling around the tower. He sails over Tidings' head as she strikes at Wandering Dog. And his whips, unable to take the strain of such a blow, snap, further sending him through the air. His now-unbraided raven hair whips to and fro wildly, as do the tattered remnants of his shirt and coat, now little more than inky black rags which occasionally cling to him with a sickly kind of stickiness.

     He hits the ground with the dull thud of heavy equipment, sending up a spray of debris and losing consciousness. He doesn't stop. His motionless body skips across the rocky earth with a similar, disquieting thud, until the most disquieting noise of all.

     Splash.
Lezard Valeth Tomoe retaliates with flame. Lezard, again, demonstrates he knows how to deal with this kind of problem as the blazing bolt strikes a barrier, cascading over him and minimizing the scorching pain that he would be experiencing if her were hit head on. "I am tiring of your presence..." Lezard says. "Will you not simply /take a hint/ and leave before I obliterate you as well?"

Then the island is plunged into bloody light from Revelation's flare, everything cast into crimson hellish light. Lezard pauses, looking up, and smiles, his eyes widening... And he giggles. An unhinged thing that communicates that this was perhaps a surprise... But a /welcome/ one. No, this is precisely the kind of monster he hoped to be working with.

"It's heautiful, isn't it?" He says amidst the wavering tone. "Do you understand now what you are dealing with?"

Abruptly, his expression hardens into iron, his mania clamped down on with barely a moment's shift as he suddenly extends the Catalyst. "Embrace the Dark." He states, as a shower of murderous dark beads blast out over and over again, hammering into Tomoe's shield. Far from what one might expect, the Dark power carries a heavy /weight/ to it, striking powerful blows despite being magic...
Wandering Dog Wandering Dog's running out of essence as he fights. He can't stop her from rolling his blows, but he keeps going. He keeps punching, he keeps throwing the hits - and she breaks down into tar. He stops soon after, shocked. Did he -

The shelf crumbles, and Wandering Dog falls into her grip. He's helpless against it. Her energy is horrifying, and her flare of green light ignites as she punches into him, sending him hurtling into the air. He hurks, barely able to reply. "No!"

And then, the Wandering Dog goes flying. He flies, and he flies, and he's out of control, unable to manipulate his landing. His essence is all but tanked, only a few motes more to fire off. He leaves the Underworld entirely in the process, seeing the night sky of Creation in his wake. He closes his eyes.

On the island of Tamari, the villagers have a festival where they pray to the heavens for a sign. Any sign, to see how the world will turn. As they dance around a fire, dressed in gowns and beads cheering and hollering, something twinkles in the sky. It's burning from friction. It comes straight towards the islanders...and lands on the fire, snuffing it out. Wandering Dog barely manages to activate the last of his defensive abilities in time, rolling as he does so, saving his life. He slowly stands up, several bones broken, blood coming out of his mouth, and needing urgent medical attention. To the islanders...

It's a miracle.
Empty Tidings Empty Tidings stands in the crevice the battle pounded in the side of the cliff face, breathing hard. She's surrounded by a nimbus of bruised green flame, staring out into the Underworld sky and watching Wandering Dog fly over the horizon.

And seeing something much, much more distressing fall past her instead. "-- Eye!!"

Tidings doesn't hesitate. She leaps off the crevice, legs bicycling as she plummets. She hits the surface of the too-still water -- and doesn't break it /or/ her stride, sprinting across it like it was a solid sheet of glass. A comet-tail of whirling purple and black with a core of green trails behind her. She totally ignores the air platform, totally ignores Tomoe's increasing peril, and just...

...stops, Revelations' anima burning beyond her.

The sea becomes liquid again. She slips beneath the surface, kicking her feet and rocketing downward into the abyssal depths. The light of the Green Sun defies it as it defies all things, signaling to the hungry sea and the creatures that know a feast has just descended that this one is not on the menu. Utterances in an archaic form of Old Realm beseech the Mother of Seas, and a plume of gory ichor blossoms behind her while she flies rather than really 'swims' towards the inert shape of her friend.

Tidings grabs hold of Eye's prone body and uses her presently monumental strength to haul him back towards the surface. Her flaring anima begins to gutter as she ascends towards open air, Essence leeched by the soul-chilling cold. It would be too easy to give in to the creeping chill of death and release -- something she acknowledges and then ignores, seeking ship or sandbar in open defiance of the Underworld's hungry sea.

She has another way out. She'd really rather not use it.
Tomoe Bloody Revelation shows the full horror of her abilities as she sees that Eye is down and tossed like a rag doll by her in the end, things are not going well. Still, she expected that with the class of people Bloody Revelations has worked for her. Albert said she didn't have it in her to do what needed to be done. She sees something needs to be done but not what Albert did, no she's got something else in mind as Lezard just start hitting her with spells.

"I am dealing with one of the most if not most Dangerous mages in the Multiverse. You are the one man I think could take Iianor in magical combat."

She notes even as she starting to reel from the black mage her shield is being hammered hard, she's being hammered hard too and she's not got much left in her.

"It's a nightmare, that what it is and I have my sin of helping to enable to atone for."

Tomoe will break into motion, she starts moving right for Lezard to get in close but her shield vanishes into her inventory as she moves in she'll aim to attempt to grab Lezard by the throat and drive her blade into him, before moving to slam him into the ground and continue her assaults, and she'll start chanting to let rip with a full on light spell. Which she'll unload at point blank as she finishes her casting.
Starbound Flotilla     The Flotilla are in an exhausted tizzy. The battered members and their battered gunship, minus one Moonfin stuck around the lighthouse, remain focused on All-Seeing Eye, but... That doesn't mean they're great at finding them, considering Empty Tidings' nature as semi-stealthy, and her abilities of convenient intangibility. Not like this area is lacking for shadows right now, after all. While there's the chance she could turn this around if she decided to stand and defend ASE with some heavy attacks, at the moment the Flotilla's uniquely stuck in the situation where Empty Tidings and All-Seeing Eye can be retreated from the battlefield without a chance that the Flotilla might have to make an effort to hunt then. Once they make it to their boat, it's not like this gunship has a great effective range. After all, they only set it up to defend this one little island, not /chase/ anyone.
Lezard Valeth Everything is crumbling. Everything is falling apart around them as titanic powers vie for dominion over this eldrtitch eye. There are many loose ends.

Lezard is resolved to not leave one of them, at least. "You keep saying that, and yet you remain. Are you a fool or is your flattery as hollow as your shield?" However, his taunting is cut short as she goes full offense. The sudden shift leaves him in Tomoe's grip, a blade piercing through him. He yells as he is impacted into the ground, the massive light spell crashing down into him and scorching his blasphemous body, shredding through him.

As the light dims, Lezard lies there, impaled to the ground, a growing bloodstain below him on the floor as light begins to sparkle off of him. He twitches in agony, his body rent...

"Kkkk... Kkkkkkh!" He hisses, and his fists clench. "... No... NO!" He groans, his blood-flecked voice becoming more and more unhinged. "I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS!"

A moment later, the lights stop, being dragged right back into his body as there is dull THUD, a blastwave ripping out from around him and sending Tomoe falling back, the blade hurled from his body. He staggers to his feet, the book and Catalyst hanging around him as energy bleeds around him like liquid flame. The crimson seeping out around him melts away, dissolving into light as he begins burning his own blood to power what comes next. "I WILL NOT FALL TO THE LIKES OF YOU! Allow me to give you a final gift... a fragment of immortality itself!"

Blue-white light coruscates around him, being formed into a growing point of light... "By the power of the White Dragon, be cursed and banished! EMBRACE ETERNITY!" A quick, deadly beam of white streaks outwards, slashing up along the ground and across the Fort. For a moment, it looks like nothing happens...

And then the entire line erupts in white and azure destruction, spires of beautiful, deadly crystal ripping up through the ground, shattering ebon stone and splitting rock where it passes. Anyone struck by it suddenly feels parts of their body crystallizing and tearing out of their body, impaling them on their own transformed flesh as they hang there and slowly are engulfed in solid crystal. Even spirits do not escape, should any of them have been foolish enough to not evacuate, the soul magic striking them just as surely.
Empty Tidings Tidings proves to be mildly elusive -- insofar as anything at home in a horrible soul-sucking sea can be elusive against an aerial target -- and incredibly fast. She hauls Eye out of the Flotilla's effective patrol range as quick as she can, even if concealing herself is difficult while her anima is making her a big glowing target in a glass-like ocean.

Once they get to a ship, /that/ moves quickly too. She doesn't intend to stop until they get to Creation, either.

Someone else can figure out what Revelations is up to out here. It's been kind of a day.
Tomoe Tomoe is matching Lezard hard he's stubborn he's dangerous and he proves why Tomoe said what she said she was damn well trying to make sure he stays down but it's not enough her job is to be a tank, not deal DPS, really and in the end that's where it plays out she needs people at her back to do any real good other than stall, and Lezard has the firepower to get through with that he casts his spell Tomoe will attempt to recall the mourning wall, she does and that's all that saves her life.

She still get wreck hard her avatar form is a mess of jagged lines of red wireframes there is no real illusion of her seemingly being made of flesh any real part of that is gone just from what Lezard is doing she's likely hurting under the Avatar as well as she's fighting her way free of the crystallizing. She's in a world of pain and getting the hell out of here, she's the last one here and she's getting the hell out.