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Bloody Revelations	On the planned day, just before the Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Waters is scheduled to travel to Island 5 and check on the progress of his world-conquering fleet, and thus just before he'll realize the Hungry Stone is gone and most of his ships no longer work, the island of Onyx of the Skullstone Archipelago becomes nothing less than a full throttle shitstorm. Calling it a 'warzone' would be a disservice both to the level of chaos that unfolds the instant the squad's gathered resources breach the periphery of the shadowland that surrounds the island, and a disservice to the inherent dignity of warzones, ostensibly places where there is strategy and honour.     There had been no warning, because the insidious Silver Prince deserves none. There had been no ultimatum --no delivery of terms-- because the rogue Deathknight will accept none except his utter destruction. Months and months of preparation, taking and repairing Luthe and it's battlefleet and armaments, hunting down and capturing the Brass Leviathan, copying the ritual of the weaponized Haggard's Eye, even lacking its full potential, sabotaging the launch capability of the Bodhisattva's ludicrously overpowered First Age model armada --even Orcinus Rex, effectively defeated by the Alchemical All-Seeing Eye, had played his part destroying some of the Prince's forces. Though the Lintha had been a total wash, destroyed by the Elites cooperating with the Deathlord before they had a chance, the gradient of victories, mixed and otherwise, is tilted in their favour. They have a lot to come swinging at him with.     Attacking from the east coast of Onyx, one can see the giant literal-skull fortress chiseled into the dark, craggy peak of the island from almost any elevation, its built up stone infrastructure sprawling down from there. There are levels of walls, some anti-ship weaponry, and a slightly up-armed blockade of the 'Black Fleet' --his false flag of a mundane navy, no more than fifty ordinary ships with wooden hulls-- making for an outright laughable defense for what is brought against him.     The water explodes for a mile across where Luthe finishes its resurfacing protocol, exposing the topmost deck of an entire inverted city of gold and silver and glittering transparent domes. Churning towards the island of Onyx at full battle speed, its ranks of Essence guns, lightning ballista and implosion cannon batteries, and its mounted vortex weapon installments, come in range long before the Black Fleet's, and with the mobile Manse's metaphorical batteries at full, they immediately make a mockery of the 'modern' fleet, blowing it to burning flinders with the opening volley, annihilating the crew in the blink of an eye.     Scores of artifact naval attack craft are launched from there, crewed by the oldest and most powerful spectres Bloody Revelations could drum up from the veteran captaincy of the Orcinus Rex fleet. The salvageable aerial attack vehicles are launched from the upper decks as well, putting a dozen glimmering fighters into the air with their own crystal bombs and mounted plasma repeaters. There were only two candidates capable of operating the warstriders, and so they're kept in reserve aboard the floating city for the inevitable counterattack. The trump card is the giant mechanical serpentine dreadnought, released from the underwater hangars and left to operate independently.     The Brass Leviathan immediately takes to targeting the Skullstone Manse, and from a kilometer away from the shore, fires all six supergiant Essence beam cannons straight into it for its opening salvo, the blinding light of its volley crashing against the layers of ancient magical protections on the skull-shaped fortress Manse, burning and shattering several of the barriers and shifted stones that come to its defense in one go. That's the shot it chooses to announce itself with.
Bloody Revelations	Mass panic is just about instantaneous. Where Luthe can begin firing on the defensive walls, and attack craft can swoop in and burn down the smaller ships of the Black Fleet, as well as strafe guard towers, siege weapons, and formations of soldiers, the soft, complacent, 'civilized' folk of Skullstone have no idea what to do when everything begins burning around them. Of course it's only the perfect opportunity for their silver masked saviour to play his prophesied role and summon up his impregnable defense of the people that (his own) divine providence says he will unerringly defend.     Even from a ways offshore, anyone can hear the booming, imperious voice that is broadcast to every corner of the main island, and no doubt mirrored at the other islands in the archipelago too.     "Chosen people of Skullstone, blessed by the New Order. There is no need for panic --no need for fear. Did I not tell you this day would come? Did the holy and honoured dead not tell you to steel yourselves for it? Have you listened to the words of those who have guaranteed your future eternal? Do not fear as I do not fear. War has come to your doorstep, your homes, at last, and I say such is the way of Creation. Such is the way of those who do not understand the truth of the New Order, barbaric and violent, covetous and jealous, afraid and lost as all who go without the Truth are. Such is the inevitable hardship of those blessed with the true Order of things, who live lives like no other in the world, envious and spiteful of it."     "Do as I have spoken of, as you always have, and have always profited by. Evacuate to your designated shelters, and watch in awe as your Prince, eternal and infallible, obliterates this paltry threat, and have no more doubts in your heart that Skullstone is the place of those Chosen to inherit Creation."     As expected already, the Silver Prince has his ways of activating his secret fleet with a signal. Under the sometimes watchful eye of his Neverborn master, built into the infrastructure of his factory cathedral, the House of the Cold Sea, he can launch the full one hundred and eight dreadnaughts through the ill-defined edges of the Sea of Shadows and into any place in the ocean of Creation. Just like that, out of the deep, shifting mists of the Web of Shadows, ghosts forms of black soulsteel vessels materialize as if from a dream, cutting forward against the waves on grave-silent engines, powering ghastly necrotic Essence weapons of their own, sweeping out a wedge vanguard towards the encroaching enemy, backed up by rank upon rank upon rank of ancient, hyper-advanced warships.     Or they would, if more than a round twenty of them actually heeded his call. Of course, that's no doubt more than enough to awe the citizens, given their construction hasn't been seen in Creation for millennia, but the lack of any further speech is telling on the other end. Twenty warships isn't enough, and he should know it. There's no telling what he's preparing to do at the minute.
Bloody Revelations	His opposite across the pond, bound by their individual contracts signed with the Neverborn, codified in the Sins of Death, not to directly do battle with him, seems to have a simpler plan. Atop the deck of Luthe, directly overhead the control room beneath, she has the horrid, hypercube-esque cut of alien stone all to herself, whispering to it as she sprinkles blood from her slit wrist into a wide circle, pace by pace, speaking in tongues of the Labyrinth.     Where she completes the circle, a yawning hole in space leads to some part of the horror-maze of the Neverborn's dreams she'd chosen ahead of time to stage, and disgorges the hazy, pitch black silhouettes of hundreds upon hundreds of gaunt, clawed, fanged, coal-eyed spectres, flickering unstably even in a shadowland, their corpus seemingly permanently stained with blood, standing rigidly in anticipation. They are joined by the iridescent, pulsating, finger-tipped tendrils of the ghastly, amorphous, mind-breaking lightshow Hekatonkhire seen a few times before in this Direction, phasing through the deck as it crawls upwards out of the bowels of the naval war-Manse.     Her instructions to them are very simple, delivered with the sharp, magical sound of crackling glass, and tears shattering on stone. "I release you from your bonds. Do as you will."     Doing that is beyond obscenely dangerous. It is just plain mad. Letting a horde of quasi-real hungry ghosts dreamt up by the Labyrinth and an a top-tier Hekatonkhire loose in Creation to do *whatever they want* is begging for completely undirected bedlam, death, and destruction. Yet, as if sharing some common understanding, even in their collective insanity of the horde and the alien mind of the ghost-behemoth, every single one of them chooses to fly towards the oncoming fleet.     Technically, the Deathknight isn't doing anything. It's an independent proxy that way.
Staren	Striking with overwhelming force before they even know what hit them. Now THIS is how you fight a war.     Nearly every time Staren has to fight for anything that matters... well, okay, a fair number of times he's won in the end without an enemy even getting through his forcefield. But it still takes battles. His enemies were able to FIGHT BACK, exposing him and his allies to risk.     So there is something satisfying about getting to see his side just obliterate the defenses of the enemy like this. For a few seconds, at least, he can see how it feels to fight a war /properly/.     As he sees the warships arrive, Staren feels tension. He's expected that the Bodhisattva would have multiple fallback plans that /noone/ else knows about, and that while they are almost certainly beatable with the people and resources they have today, it won't be easy -- and with the kind of forces being thrown around today, even a single mistake could be very costly.     A mistake like RELEASING UNDEAD FROM YOUR SERVICE WHAT. Staren tenses up and his attention turns to Bloody Revelations, but... somehow, the undead all go after Silver Prince.     She's not that careless. She had some way to be certain.     Staren, sitting in his mech's cockpit where it waits with the other warstriders, waits and watches. Whatever superweapons lie in wait... better to let them hit the spectres or the floating city with their surprise attack, rather than take him and the others out.     Although, if no such attack comes soon, he'll resign himself to joining the fight and taking the risk. Especially if defenders come forward...
Wandering Dog	Wandering Dog is wearing an admiral's coat over his tunic, taking up the role he's deigned best. He's commanding Luthe. He may not be an actual admiral by experience or training, but these are Wandering Dog's people, and he wants to be the one to lead 'saving them'. He'll sacrifice them to destroy the Prince if he has to...but he doesn't believe it'll come to that. Wandering Dog is not on the battlefield. He's sitting in Luthe's control deck, in the command chair, working through battleplans and firing coordinates with the animating intelligence. As they finally approache the modern fleet and the island of Onyx, he gives the fire commands, and a fleet that normally he'd find 'incredibly impressive' is just gone. As the rest of the Vermilion Fleet attacks, the Silver Prince makes his statement. Wandering Dog grimaces in his chair, but waits. Waiting until the soulsteel ships attack, and Bloody Revelations sets off her monsters to assault them. As that happens, he speaks to Luthe's AI, and prepares the next firing of the guns. "Focus on the back row of the approaching ships. Allow the allied beasts to handle the front. If they look like they're losing, we'll change tactics." Wandeirng Dog commands the AI and the weapons. He hasn't slept. It's clear in his eyes. But something keeps the Wandering Dog focused. He's going to finally end it all tonight.
Haguro	Considering everything that's in play at the moment and everything that's at stake here, surely Haguro's become well-versed in the inner machinations of Creation! Not really. Some of what Bloody Revelations had already explained about the Hungry Stone did make sense, and the things Haguro herself can see across the vast expanse of are (mostly) logical enough to recognize them as warships. The actual scope of things escapes her, though, but that's of little consequence to the heavy cruiser. She knows who her allies are. She knows what her goal here is. She knows what her purpose as a warship is. "Haguro, moving out." The black-armored shipgirl sails forth, gliding across the water alongside/somewhere behind the Hekatonkhire as her turrets twitch and grind with the loading of shells, turning their aim towards the fleet of soulsteel ships, and her tailheads chatter their teeth in anticipation of feasting on otherworldly metal. All she needs to do is not miss. It's easier said than done when Wandering Dog gives the instruction to aim for the ships in the back, and Haguro swallows lightly before she speaks up again. "U... Understood. Switching to long-range targets." Just don't miss. Turning her turrets skywards, she eyeballs the distance. She feels the wind. She adjusts her footing. She switches to explosives, checks her aim once more, and begins firing skywards to begin her stupidly long range bombardment.
Starbound Flotilla	"Starbound Actual, ready to launch." "Thrusters check, twenty percent output, moving to two angels." "Our targeting grid is the epitome of perfection." "Determined. Sensors active, tracking twenty targets." "Engine's gunning. Fuel enough for the rest of this throwdown." "Floran isss ready! Weaponsss power isss modulated, output full!" "Good. Flotilla! SORTIE!"     The Flotilla does not remotely fuck around.     There are days when they bring small spaceships. There are days when they bring a few mecha. Some days, they bring particularly heavy weapons. Today, they have custom-crafted a heavy space warship, wrought out of refined Pseudochalcum alloys, all the exotic local materials Bloody Revelations can furnish them with, and thick, heavy smart-durasteel defensive systems. It is massive. It is a cathedral of high-intensity, high-power death. It is marked with three particular colors most of all.     And it is a mystic-jewel-studded temple, brandishing some great and terrible superscience beam weapon, and plated like a samurai. It's covered in turrets of all makes. It is full of hundreds of flying combat drones, ready to surge about and launch from dozens of ports. And it takes off from Luthe, having docked to it to make their way here.     It unleashes hell. Missiles. Lasers. Sustained, heavy kinetic fire. Bolts of energy. Brutal waves upon waves of drones, darting and blasting. The Flotilla, working at their great all-out war strength, isn't exactly enough to match the power of Luthe or the Brass Leviathan. But they are enough to take position between the fleet and the Brass Leviathan, that great and terrible titan of the waves. And they intend to tear apart any threats to their main weapon platforms. This ship? It's disposable in its own way. More disposable than Skullstone's armada.     On Wandering Dog's advice to take the front while Luthe fires on the back, they charge, authenticate, configure, and subsequently blast that massive core beam weapon across the front line with a high-pitched megatransistor scream, and then start focusing it on front-line ships. And as it does... Pavo, of course, speaks up, over the booming PA system in the ship.     "Come, humans! Come, Skullstone cattle! See what happens when you believe! When you revere! When you dare not worship yourself the way you deserve!" Pavo begins to shriek and proselytize. "When you accept the power of slow death granted to you by a greater god! When you trust a lord who asks that you /never/ see his flaws! Run! Run to your shelters! But watch from them! Don't close your eyes. See it all! Bring your children to the windows! And a curse on any blasphemer that dares so much as /blink/."     "LOOK, NOW! LOOK AT THE FAULTS OF YOUR SILVER PREACHER IN HIS ARGENT PLAYHOUSE! COME, SEE THEM! TASTE THE BLOOD THAT SPILLS FROM HIS THRONE! THE RAW TRUTH OF HIS FAILURE! THE ULTIMATE PROOF THAT YOU CAN WORSHIP NOTHING BUT YOURSELF OR THAT WHICH GRANTS YOU MIRACLES! We will not strike your shelters. We will bless you with life! Life as you've never seen it before! Life where the facade is broken and shattered! Go! To your shelters! Your seats in our theater!"     "Take the stage for your audience, Silver Prince. Or take the death you worship without the dignity the God of Ego mercifully blesses you with."
Lezard Valeth	Full scale war is not usually Lezard's stock in trade. He has enough firepower in his own self to handle most difficult issues and demons at his beck and call for anything less. The armies of Midgard are not what one would call a threat. This is something a little different. The sheer level of devastation that is being levied is impressive in its own right, the chaos and carnage, the summonings... Some of it would threaten to make Lezard feel inadequate, really, if his ego was vulnerable to such displays. Part of him is thankful, however, that he chose the Winning Side on this. He absolutely would not enjoy being on the receiving end of such rampant hate and destruction... Not as he is now. But even as he gets new and more terrible ideas still (Funny how Creation tends to spawn such things), he stands tall upon Luthe, the Philosopher's Stone unfolde before him. With a flick of his hand, the pages flaring out as a circle of power begins drawing itself around his feet. The glowing lines shine up around him like a beacon, traced with his energies as the circle expands larger and larger... and then the lines sink into Luthe itself, inscribing channels of energy through walls as they unerringly slide deeper and deeper to tap into the massive Essence batteries of the dreadnought. Lezard cackles as he pulls a surge of energy into the framework of his spells. Instead of needing to cycle and build power like normal, well... "Ye of detestible name and virtue! False Apostle! Thou art bade back to the Abyss!" As the highly appropriate words are spoken, the dark sky tears open over the enemy Manse, A burning circle of lights gathering into a golden lance of holy energy. "SERAPHIC LAW!" A moment later, the blast punches downwards like an orbital laser, striking directly at the skull fortress with the kind of might a maniacal sorceror with an order of magnitude or two more energy at hand than he normally uses can field. Somehow, his laughter overshadows the sound of the massive VREEEM of the beam striking down.
Azure Armature	If Staren were being vocal of his appreciation for the overwhelming force being levelled on Skullstone, the true might of preparation being weilded in one shattering blow, Armature would join him in the appreciation of the instrument of force. This was not how wars were fought, though, no. It was how they were won. The various varibles had come into play, a spiderweb of information, counter-intelligence, and capital being put towards a hundred ends to culminate in this moment. In ear-beads, communication crystals and hearthstones, or even just internal internal vocal communicators, Armature's flat tone crisply announces like a detached drone operator. "Team. To confirm: Our primary objective is nothing less than the defeat and annihilation of the Deathlord the Silver Prince. While secondary seizures and targets of opportunity may present themselves, our battle is one of momentum and choices - do not falter and choose your own gratification over the clearing of our victory conditions." "The Silver Prince may have elite members of their retuine remaining, who are priority secondary targets, but being bogged down in duels serves the enemy. Strike quickly and decisively." "There are no goals that have been outlined that define our rules of engagement - and no goal higher than victory. Failure of mission objectives may put the Silver Prince forever outside of our reach. Use whatever means at your dispoasal to ensure elimination of the target." Armature extends a hand to clap Admiral Wandering Dog on the shoulder. "Admiral. A special word for you: You will be tempted to either remain at the command of Luthe or immediately engage the enemy personally. I recommend you resist both - fleet cohesion will be massively improved with you coordinating. Your game is very simple - smash the enemy's strategic assets before committing to a fight. However, I'll leave the final decision to you." Armature gives the Dragon-Blooded a rare thin smile. "A personal stake in a fight can give you great power. Don't let it be a liability." She switches back to briefing radio. "Expect enemy interceptors presently." "Wipe them out."
Starbound Flotilla	Albert stands dramatically at the top of the bridge of the freshly christened Vehemence II, arms folded behind his back, among his five main bridge operators and a dozen or so cultists in charge of lesser bridge stations. He stands at the peak of concentric circles of raw light and control. "Understood, Blue One." He says, firmly, nodding to a [SOUND ONLY] display of her incominc comms. "I couldn't exceed the total output of the Brass Leviathan with the Vehemence's main gun. We'll protect its artillery capacity and give it room to work."     Narrow eyes look out over Skullstone. "This won't be decided by ships. Unlikely the ship will last through the engagement. We will be ready to shift roles to ground combat and assassination support." He says, tweaking a gun kept at his command center and making sure it's properly loaded.
Bloody Revelations	With Leviathan's authentication codes, the AI of Luthe obeys Wandering Dog without questions, furnishing the 'lowly Terrestrial' with smooth, professional acknowledgements and updates, keeping up a constant chatter of reports and confirmations in a prim and ladylike fashion. "Destruction of thirty four enemy vessels verified. Would you like to begin a second volley, admiral?" "Acknowledged, admiral. Maintaining full speed ahead." "Understood, admiral. Quarter speed shift in thirty seconds." "New enemy vessels inbound. Twenty in total. Targeting silhouette matches the Illustrious Fulgor class. Your orders, admiral?" "Rear targets at one quarter league, forward at one fifth." "Acknowledged. Batteries fully recycled and awaiting your fire command, admiral." "Passing down orders to attack craft in the field. Received confirmation of orders." From the gem-studded consoles, operated by Essence conduits and by thought as much as by verbal and manual command, presented with an illusory display of the sea around him and a tactical map constructed by the AI, Wandering Dog has the most firepower he's ever had in his life at his fingertips.     Haguro is sort of small and easy to miss between the two fleets, but she's already an Elite battleship in of herself anyways, so skipping over her is a deadly mistake. Given the sheer, overcompensating First Age Solar-designed size of the enemy warships, it's difficult for her to miss, even with high arcing fire, and she immediately puts two full volleys of Abyssal (the other kind) shells on target with only a couple of splashes, rocking the decks of her chosen targets with waves of explosive fire that devastate the topside gun crews, albeit not quite punching through the robust soulsteel deck armour.     The aerial craft at Wandering Dog's beck and call follow suit, swooping low and dropping coruscating Essence bombs and raking the decks with plasma fire to similar effect, though they are exposed to the flashing rave of magical anti-air fire that begins filling the sky with soulsteel barbs, necrotic beams, and pyre flame airbursts. A discharge of torpedoes slams into the front row shortly after, cracking the weak spots in the armour behind the slab prows, and rocking the formation with the combined waves.     The giant death ray coming from the Starbound Flotilla's own flying battleship, yet another unique megalith of awe-inspiring construction arrayed against Skullstone, creates a massive screen of erupting water and steam across the front chevron, and they're rewarded by the instant detonation of several gun batteries, armour to completely laugh at mundane weapons of the period, not to insulate their volatile components against disgusting sci-fi thermal weapons. Great glowing orange lines are traced across the decks, between the carbonized imprints of zombie crew that no longer exist.     Lezard instantly drops a 9th level light magic bomb on the fortress of Skullstone, and multiple layers of black wards and unholy magic that even he might find acceptable are vapourized in an instant. Columns of natural stone flash with carved runes and then crumble into dust. Screens of wailing grey faces materialize out of the air and dissipate. A long fault line in the earth explodes into so much silver fire and dust, as a leyline in the Manse's geomentic network overloads and blows.
Bloody Revelations	The Brass Leviathan sinks beneath the waves, and moments later, it crashes into the lead battleship, smashing so much soulsteel with so much orichalcum, and crumpling the lesser concentration of magical materials like the front of car car with its extreme speed, massive weight, and weaponized and enchanted teeth, immediately sending the water flooding in and the bow of the ship sinking. Hordes of hungry ghosts descend upon the front decks, compelled by some mysterious animal instinct to rend and slaughter, and *immediately* demonstrating each one being as vicious and inhumanly strong and fast as ten of their common brethren. Despite being inky shadows of the real thing, they pour forth and slaughter even well-equipped combat zombies like nothing.     The Hekatonkhire, Nilih, Sovereign Instinct, rears out of the water so that it's shadow-within-light of a woman-within-a-woman core is elevated above the waves, splaying its dozens of cilia-studded tendrils, crackling with arcane electricity in more colours than exist in the rainbow. Unleashed upon the enemy, it begins firing its own obscene barrage of screaming beams of non-Essence energy, thrumming lines of shredding force, and unholy storms of necrotic Essence 'bullets', rising from the sea like a giant kaiju boss and then just *dumpstering* a small fleet's worth of firepower of its own on the enemy, the rays especially somehow able to cut through soulsteel like butter.     It looks like a devastating, inevitable rout for the enemy at this point. Though the twenty ships are of the mightiest standard design built in the First Age, and thus able to soak disgusting amounts of punishment and last long enough to fire some of it back, the barrages of beam and bolt and cannon and ballista fire that come flying back at the Elites is cut to a 'mere' ten ships' worth within minutes, the lion's share of which is focused on trying to batter down Luthe's defenses, striking only energy shields and adamant ramparts. Beam fire, incendiary bombs, and black arrows come raining down on most, but it's only a moderate resistance, and it'll only decrease over the next few exchanges of rounds. It looks like a won battle.     As Staren would predict, there are more aces in the hole, however. After being struck several times, the secret geomancy tied into the Skullstone Manse seems to activate, sending up walls of energy much like the leylines of his homeworld, which converge into the giant skull facade, alighting its eyes with twin lighthouses of blue flame. The mountain rumbles as its stony maw opens wide, and its own super beam of disintegrating, ice cold Death Essence streaks miles across the ocean to strike Luthe head on, immediately breaking the forward quadrant of its shields (which the AI alerts Wandering Dog to with many glowing red damage displays as the control room rumbles) and threatening the reserve forces and Warstriders behind it, including Staren and Lezard.     Following the discharge, a gushing storm of bound spectres of the Prince's own come swirling out of the fortress like a horde of deathly humanoid locusts, streaming out and up in seemingly endless numbers, until they become a cloud that darkens the sky, advancing on the fleet and showering Elites with thousands of arrows, bolts, and dark energy weapons, only personal scale, but obscene in volume. A large portion of them quickly join battle with the aerial and aquatic attack craft commanded by Wandering Dog, another small army joining battle with Bloody Revelations' !spectres, and many more come pouring through the shield breach and onto the upper deck of Luthe in a rush boarding action.
Bloody Revelations	+-------------------<<Warship Battlefleet>>--------------------+         TARGETS: Haguro, Starbound, Wandering Dog         TYPE: Piercing/Necrotic/Incendiary         HIT: Plausible         THREAT: Moderate         EFFECT: none +-------------------<<Warship Battlefleet>>--------------------+ +------------------<<Breath of the Cold Sea>>------------------+         TARGETS: Wandering Dog         TYPE: Energy         HIT: Guaranteed         THREAT: Massive         EFFECT: none +------------------<<Breath of the Cold Sea>>------------------+ +--------------------<<Arise and Slaughter>>-------------------+         TARGETS: Staren, Lezard         TYPE: Swarm (Slashing/Piercing/Necrotic)         HIT: Likely         THREAT: Moderate         EFFECT: Overwhelm +--------------------<<Arise and Slaughter>>-------------------+
Lezard Valeth	The satisfaction radiating from Lezard is /palpable/ at the massive blow he deals. Sure, everything else is deadly as well, and he has to credit the overwhelming firepower from each for their part, but naturally he focuses on his own contributions. Unfortunately, it is not enough to finish with a single blow, and thus they have their turn to retaliate. And what a retaliation it is! While Lezard smiles at the attempts to breach the forward shields, the massive DOOM BEAM is something else entirely. As the blast crushes the defenses of Luthe, Lezard stumbles, his circle flickering for a moment as his concentration wavers in the face of such a strike... Thankfully, all he has to do is deal with the backwash. Even that is enough to roll over him like a wave of death, Lezard erecting arcane defenses just in time for it to merely savage him as it passes instead of consuming him entirely. The touch of death against his flesh leaves dead-looking splotches across his body, a mottled look as if the life has been sucked entirely out of portions of him. Something sparkles around him, gleaming before it gets pulled back into his flesh with a grimace and exercise of raw will, as he works to force his heart to not explode within his chest. The things you have to do sometimes. By the time he has recovered enough to stand, the problem just gets worse. the incoming boarding assault completely mitigates any attempt of him to resume the assault, and if he can't draw upon Luthe's batteries, it would take him far, far too long to build the power for another strike like that. Thus he doesn't abandon ship, instead settling back and bringing the Stone to defend the fore as the horde of spectres assault. "Mystic Cross!" Lezard cries out, continuing to abuse holy magics against the undead opponents as a swarm of lights wash into the wave, each exploding in flashes and bursts of light energy moments before they crash into his defenses... And promptly, Lezard is surroudned by innumerable enemies, each testing him and trying to be the one to punch through and stab him. Lezard is promptly forced to focus his efforts on defense, trying to keep himself from being simply overwhelmed... And unfortunately, there are limits to that even for him.
Haguro	Some part of Haguro has to wonder if blasting this soulsteel vessels carries with it risk of destroying someone's soul. It's called /soul/steel, after all, so wouldn't it be reasonable to thing that each ship she's blasting is damaging someone's very soul in a way they'll never recover from? Well, everyone else is firing at and obliterating these things, so it's probably not that important to worry about. Besides, those souls were harvested like farm animals. It's fine. What's not so fine is the excessive amount of projectiles raining down upon her and her allies. Staying underneath the 'allied' ghosts doesn't quite help keep her safe, and Haguro has to rely on her own mobility and armor to weather the falling weaponry. A swerve to the left, a burst of speed backwards, raising her arms and tail to block a beam directly, and a ballista bolt coming much too close to her head as it just grazes her face enough to draw a spurt of blood from her neck. Maybe it'd be smarter to fall back a bit. Alas, Haguro isn't very smart, and that brush with death has her pushing onwards to close the distance with the enemy fleet. Instead of firing in easily counted volleys with a pattern of loading and firing, however, she starts firing one turret at a time, cycling through them rapidly to give each gun just enough time to finish reloading by the time the cycle begins again. Her shots still go high, but now as a stream of explosives raining from the sky as she works on felling those remaining soulsteel vessels.
Staren	Staren appreicates that there's concern among his allies for the civilians. it's ehartwarming to hear Moonfin of all people remind that they're fighting to create a better life for even these people.     Just as Staren's wondering if maybe the aces up the Prince's sleeve are IN the fortress and will be encountered later, two reveal themselves. One is a magic beam that's threatening to overwhelm Luthe's shields... <"Warstriders, take cover!"> The Star Hawk hovers over to land in front of the largest group, if any, caught out in the open in the launch bay, and directs them to crouch down as it does the same and deploys its beam shield.     It can't possibly be enough, right? But Luthe's shields have already absorbed most of the force...     Staren overcharges the shield. It's destructive, it makes it burn out in a few seconds, but maybe, just maybe, it'll be enough.     After the beam shops and the shield falls, he's still left with a burned and mangled left arm, which he detaches and drops in the bay. There was a three-tube missile launcher on that arm, too. Useless now.     And more trouble is coming. <"Warstriders, defend the ship! Shoot down those ghosts!"> They all have essence cannons, right? Right?     For Staren's own part, he launches out of the bay without further announcement and... puts distance between himself and Luthe?     He's trying to get out from under the rain of attacks against the shield, at least long enough to launch his own attack. He planned to fire a salvo of missiles at Skullstone, but it seems it's needed elsewhere now: Sixteen missiles (not the mini-kind) fly out from under the wings, arc up, and around, and then rain down on the spectres above Luthe, detonating high-tech high-explosive warheads to hopefully take out some huge chunks of that cloud of ghosts!     Getting into a melee on the deck sounds like a bad idea to him. Hopefully the warstriders are better equipped for it, and perhaps thanks to his own efforts Dog will be able to spare some focus for whatever anti-boarding defenses Luthe has before Lezard is overwhelmed!
Starbound Flotilla	Albert paces down the bridge, arms still firmly folded behind his back, and eyes still hard and determined. "Incoming fire from the warships. Ten downed." "Floran isss tearing them apart!"     He strides past a pair at their stations, filed with bright green tidings of greatness in battle. He sees holographic screens of ships split and torn open. "Damage to deck four. Our targeting stays perfect. Keep this momentum." "Maneuvers are solid! She can take this beating, hull's holding!"     He strides past another station full of green and only a few spots of red, filled with the sight of perfection. Their shields are draining, but at the safe rate that they're meant to. The hull takes some shots, but it holds the way it's meant to. The crucial systems and personnel remain safe. Albert quickly judges the scenario as fully fitting. He feels at home. It's perfect. "Hey asshole, got a plan for those guys?" "Their weapons cannot dent our battleship." "They don't have to. See that boarding?" "..." "Boarding's a force multiplier. You got a plan to stop them?" "No." "Great. I do."     Albert turns to the insolent bridge operator and narrows his eyes. "I already don't like it." "Well, fuck off about that. Take a look at that. You think Big L got it handled?" "...Hmph." "Thought so. Seft, what'd you read right before the big mountain face?" "Urgent. Geomancy detected five seconds before the Death Essence volley!" "So, you wanna let 'em get that shield back up, you better keep that thing from firing again." "Then we destroy the manse." "No. Stupid. We can't do it soon enough. You follow /my/ plan." "And /what/ is that?"
Starbound Flotilla	George has taken over command of the Vehemence II. "Alright gang, time to earn our jade around here! Let's get Luthe safe. Let's get over Skullstone fast as we can, we only got one shot at this one. Pushing power to engines, then weapons when we're on the spot! I want it all on the Big Gun."     Albert stomps hard through the engineering hallways, grabbing up emergency tools and filling his eyes with a blazing light, getting into the mindset he needs for what comes next. He heads into the engineering walkways that run along the outside of the main gun, steadying himself desperately on handrails as they accelerate right towards Skullstone. This puts him in range of the personal fire from the swarms of bound spectres! He has to frequently take cover, and try to shoot swarms of them down to get to the panel he needs to get to.     When he gets there, he rips the panel open, begins hotwiring chunks of it... And jams his mining beam's nozzel directly into an energy frequency modulation line.     "Here's the logic. Spooky said they don't know shit from fuck about how to actually manage all this old stuff, right? They use it, but she said he barely gets what he's dealing with. Well, stands to reason they don't know much about how to make something like this work. That means, kingface over there is probably out of redundant systems. We can't fuck up the, what are they called, the Leylines much, right? But I bet we can jostle 'em just a /little/ bit, and he won't have all the old systems that used to compensate."     The Flotilla surges to as little a populated area as they can find around the geomantic energy readings, targets the lines of energy fueling the no-doubt delicately-managed leylines of the manse... And fires an artillery-scale hotwired MINING BEAM directly into the things that keep that manse able to blast heavy artillery, hoping to just nudge them around.     "Heyyyyy guys! If this works, focus on gettin' that shield breach closed back up, because hopefully they can't fuck it up any worse if I know what I'm doing. Great thing is, I don't know what I'm doing. I did find a great commander-looking hat though." George calls out on the radio.
Wandering Dog	Azure Armature comments to Wandering Dog, who turns to her as she claps him on the shoulder. As she speaks, he frowns slightly...but a minute later, it turns to an understanding nod. "Coordination, right. I'll coordinate the group to the best of my abilities, but I have to say, Blue." Wandering Dog looks up. "There's a guarantee that by the end of this, I'll personally battle the Silver Prince." "And I'll kill him." "But thanks for the advice. I'll keep to it." Wandering Dog turns back to his map, working with the AI. But while he coordinates the fights, the skull mouth opens up, and a humongous laser blasts forward, piercing through the shields. Luthe shakes as it takes the impact, the hull blasted, damaged, but thankfully not destroyed or completely pierced through - though another shot like that would be devastating. Wandering Dog braces against his chair, sending out comms. <"We've taken a hit! Repairing shields. If that happens again while the shields are down, we're screwed."> He looks over the battle maps while he issues the AI to try and restore shields, and it doesn't look good. Boarding action on Luthe, some fighters down or damaged, and others harried by shots. Wandering Dog isn't sure what to do. He hasn't been in a battle like this...well, ever. He doesn't have the training. But he certainly has the gumption. "Command any fighters not focused on swarms or ships to aid their allies. Additionally, give me a feed on the breaching, and coordinate reserve forces to deal with it." Wandering Dog does want to stand up and fight. He's a stand-up and fight kind of guy. But instead, he radios over. <"For those unaware, we're being breached. All capable forces, take out the intruders.">
Azure Armature	It doesn't take long for Wandering Dog at the helm of Luthe to run into trouble. Azure Armature didn't think they'd have boarders so early. More expecting ship to ship combat for a time and then commencing with their own boarding action on the city, and then urban warfare. But Wandering Dog plays his part, not as the legendary soldier, but a big boss. "I'll handle the deck, Admiral." She had prepared urban combat algorithms, even! UGH! SO INCONSIDERATE! So this boarding action is Inconvenient. Not just for her, but Lezard. Translocating into the air over the deck, Armature appears in a pop of math as Lezard unleashes his Seraphic Law. "Sorcerer of Midgard! You look like you need this deck controlled." A sweep of herhand as she falls to the deck in an agile half-crouch heralds an entire 'digital' hard-light urban cordon surrounding the foredeck location of Lezard's favorite casting spot, large opalescent riot-shields and prefab-plate-like walls springing to life around his position in an outward explosion of STEP BACK, CITIZEN, THIS AREA IS UNDER TRIPARTATE CONTROL. <"Staren, engage as you will. I'll keep Valeth safe until we've breached the area. Keep Albert's laser working, and we'll force the Prince to split his forces!">
Bloody Revelations	The fact that an evil archmage like Lezard gets to use holy magic is sort of unfair, but it's exactly the sort of unfair his benefactor likes. Waves of incoming spectres are blow away entirely as Mystic Cross flashes out through them repeatedly, taking out dense chunks of the target rich environment so they evapourate into nothing. Between that, and Staren's missile barrage, exploding into those massive spheres of plasma, alongside the limited size of the breach they can pour through, their initial barrage cuts off the flow of boarding enemies completely for a short time.     The two Noble Warstriders aligned with Staren's Starhawk, broadcast green and then unfold elaborate blue jade wing packs from their back, each articulated 'feather' glowing bright and emitting great gushes of Essence particle wash, before both rocket up into the air at a genuinely respectable speed. Mounted shoulder cannons blast away at the horde at the same time they use their massive artifact daiklaves, shredding through the spectral soldiers that come into melee combat, their thick hulls bouncing arrows and swords and Essence bolts off of them with ease, for the most part. It seems that the occupants are more at risk than the armour itself.     Of course, many of the enemy's number still land on the deck, using Luthe's own barricades and topside walls for cover, in lieu of an actual resident army of marines meant to defend the platform properly. They advance on foot and through walls at low hovers, closing in on Lezard and Staren in lesser numbers with wicked black blades and chains and bolts. Some descend through the platform itself, ghosting through layers of deck and into the control room itself, aiming to take out the commander at his seat. Where Azure Armature comes to the surface though, she is granted full control over the architectural mechanisms the enemy hopes to make use of, and has absurd field-shaping leeway to reconfigure the battlefield as she likes; a great number of the fortifications have latent enchantments to prevent something ghosting or teleporting right through them, developed to battle ancient magic wielders as it was. Defending the sorcerer, he should have continued time to cast his big spells.     The AI smoothly obeys Wandering Dog with all the calm collectedness as before, multi-tasking diverting power from the three other shield quadrants to the fore. When the spectres burst into the command room, automatic plasma turrets unfolding from their gilded apertures, gunning down several with point defense beams drawn from the power grid.     Out on the waves, the battle with the 20% of a fleet the Silver Prince was actually able to summon continues to tilt their way. The ships are robust and tanky, requiring a lot of effort to actually kill which *needs* to be spent elsewhere, but are just threatening enough that they cannot be left alone.
Bloody Revelations	Haguro's constant hail of gunfire blows the batteries off one, sets the engine aflame on another, destroys the propulsion intake of a third, and a lucky hit pierces the citadel windows of a fourth, crippling them in various shades. The Brass Leviathan resurfaces to pull its massive orichalcum coils around another ship and crush it like a great kraken, turning and firing more of its beams with a deafening, draconic screech across the fleet, skewering one warship and melting halfway through the one behind it.     Were a full 108 ships here, the sheer volume of fire would have devastated the Elites and their superweapons before they'd gotten to do much of anything, but the early momentum they've secured against the smaller enemy is routing the fleet, leaving just a few ships functional enough to maneuver and fire back, rapidly dwindling down to nothing.     The Hekatonkhire especially seems to be enjoying itself, dozens of tendrils now lashing out through the air and snatching fistfuls of mad spectral shock troops out of the air, stung and paralyzed instantly on contact with its arms and dragged screaming to its 'maw' by the bunch. Their corpus dissolves instantly in the light-and-shadow translucent core, and it devours them by the score, replenishing its energy to redouble its hellish firestorm, now breaching through the defensive blockade and heading towards shore, as does the Brass Leviathan shortly after it.     The lights in the giant skull-shaped War Manse's eyes burn bright again. Its maw crackles with gathering energy. Occult runes light up all around the craggy terrain surrounding it, built into natural formations as the rocks themselves form the right sigils and lines to channel dark magic. It's ready to fire its Breath again, as well as what looks to be a much larger scale emergency summoning, quite possibly being a Hekatonkhire of the Bodhisattva's own, and then the most utterly ridiculous of fates befalls it.     The orbital mining beam drills right through the dragon line buried deep in the earth, and severs it completely, gushing the Essence of Gaia the Manse taps into and draws into itself by design, and immediately causing the power to fail and flicker out completely. The sheer absurdity of 'mining a dragon line out of the ground', both in scale and ridiculous concept, doesn't seem to have been planned for, as one of the totem-like capstones explodes like a tiny volcano. Even the Abyssal cackles from her dramatic position atop a Luthan spire, yelling "That has to be the single most *brilliant* idiotic idea I've ever seen!"
Bloody Revelations	The sixth line of defense, after the Black Fleet, the real Black Fleet, the Manse, the spectral army, and the island's geomantic contingencies that nobody will get to see now, appears to be the Silver Prince's own champions. As intimidating as that is, it signifies a certain level of desperation to resort to his own lieutenants.     Haguro and the Flotilla out in the water find that one particular battleship refuses to sink, as a wild, vicious looking woman with a shaved head, black lips, and full-body shark tattoos fends away their ships' attacks with an oversized soulsteel wavecleaver blade, barking orders at the helm and limmed in a bonfire of burning blackness, totemic with the jaws of a prehistoric megalodon. Where the ship's batteries fire at the Flotilla, under her command, they unerringly find all of the ship's weak points and critical systems, blasting away at it as if the crew were perfect experts.     From the prow of the ship, she leaps down and then sprints at full tilt on the surface of the water, coming screaming at Haguro with a howling, almost barbaric battlecry and burying her under an avalanche of vicious cleaving blows, a dark shadow of her weapon tracing through the air as an after-image, yet cutting physically all the same, attacking her twice.     Lezard and Azure Armature are accosted by a brawny, shirtless man with his own tattoos, wearing the pelt of a great black wolf as a hood and coat, hiding half his bearded face under its jaws. He is far more reserved and restrained, but no less ferocious a close quarters fighter, navigating around whatever terrain the Alchemical raises against him as if it were nothing, and using crushing and launching body blows as often as his daiklave, attached to a barbed chain and heavy weight which he uses to grapple and throw as well as swing.     Staren, and by extent, Wandering Dog, are instead called out by a gorgeous man in an admiral's greatcoat decorated in piles of medals, wielding a cutlass of orichalcum festooned with hearthstones, his hair tied back in a dashing ponytail, and with Skullstone's livery proudly emblazoned on his uniform. The air around him shimmers gold, yet there seems to be no contradiction about him fighting alongside the unholy forces arrayed against them.     He calls out to them, crying out "This is your last chance! Lay down your arms and surrender to the justice of the people of Skullstone! Cease your aggression, and I will ensure your full right to parlay with the Silver Prince, and that you will receive a fair trial for your acts! If you give us your commanding officer, I may even be able to forestall your execution!" If that doesn't work though, he has no compunctions about drawing his blade, blazing with Solar fire, and leaping into the fray with absurd wuxia acrobatics, jumping up to the Star Hawk and running all over its surface, parkouring around and off the terrain and even running along the dome to get to it, as well as ordering the spectres to breach a proper hole he can actually follow to the command room.
Lezard Valeth	In Midgard, holy magic is basically a bludgeon to be wielded as one sees fit. The gods do, after all, and far be it for Lezard to let such a minor thing as that to keep him from swearing as the gods swear. However, he isn't given much breathing room. One casting of Mystic Cross is hardly going to stop a horde like this, even thinned out thanks to Staren. However, the deck shifts and the invading force begins to get diverted away with the help of KYOJIIII- I mean, Azure Armature. "My thanks." Lezard says with perhaps the most genuine and least smarmy tone he's had in weeks. Thanks to those defenses, Lezard straightens his bleeding, gnawed, and cut body and organizes himself rapidly, re-framing his mind and immediately wresting things back into order as he reaches out and touches Luthe once more. The augmentation array spreads out, contacting Luthe's energy reserves as Lezard begins casting something even bigger than the last spell. He doesn't even bother giving the enemy Solar the time of day, he's BUSY. His answer will be clear soon enough. It's time to provide a true demonstration of his power. The world flares bright around him as he quickly begins casting once more, a multitude of streamers firing into that dark spot of sky, reaching up and disappearing into the night. For a moment, it might seem like it did nothing. And then the night /moves/. In the depths of the heavens, Lezard grips upon the detritus found there, seizing upon masses large and small as the skies begin to boil crimson with fire, something approaching that lights up the night in a deadly haze, the sky swirling as the air begins to displace.                          "NO MERCY FOR THE DAMNED!"                         Lezard's voice rings out, the absolute certainty and mastery ringing across Ebon as he engages in a devastating display of sorcery.           "THUS THOU HAST NO ESCAPE FROM THE GRIP OF CATASTROPHE!"           The first meteorites begin to fall, smaller rocks hurtling down at cosmic speeds to batter against the enemy Manse's defenses from the weakened vertical direction, each detonating in columns of flame and destruction if not somehow stopped. The fact that the Manse's power suddenly goes out might make that difficult. But then the centerpiece begins to descend, the air roaring as Lezard brings down a massive rock upon it. Thankfully, it's not going to annihilate the countryside, but that giant skull is about to get a giant flaming rock upside the head.                               "METEOR SWARM!"
Staren	Oh right, royal warstriders can fly.     Staren's got a couple of goddamn /super robots/ accompanying him. Cool.     Staren's not sure about pulling them away from the deck like this... but then Azure says she's got it handled. Very well.     It looks like they've dealt with the spectre army, too. But the Silver Prince is about to summon another one, or something else...     ...And then the Flotilla do their thing. Staren thought they were talking about using some kind of magical resonance to disrupt everything feeding off the leyline, but no. It's much stupider than that. It's so stupid that it underflows to /brilliant/. The Flotille /physically sever/ a leyline. Staren didn't think that was possible!     Neither did the Silver Prince, it seems, and Staren smiles when he sees one of the capstones blow out and the lights going dark on Skullstone.     <"Alright. Let's finish off the fleet. Are you guys better at ranged or melee? I'd rather keep my distance."> Staren radios the other warstriders, and then turns his attention to the water. The laser rifle stuck to the arm flips into a waiting hand, and Staren looks for moving gun turrets and then fires at them, laser blasts followed up with bursts from the gatling railgun mounted on the same arm, trying to throw off their aim!     And then he has bigger problems. He expected this, but he didn't expect the exact form it takes: Exalts running over sea and air! Well, he kinda did expect that, just that there'd be more warning!     At the word justice, Staren reflextively scoffs. "Justice?! You want JUSTICE? Do you know why your master's fleet hasn't come? Do you know what we FOUND when we went to disable it? He's lied to everyone... the good people of Skullstone are right now on the water or sunk to the bottom of it!"     Staren is drawn into talking, because actually it seems pretty possible that good people are working for the Prince. Hell, he saw as much in the aftermath of what was done to the Lintha!     And then he has someone ON HIS GODDAMN MECHA. "Get off me!" Staren flails his remaining limbs wildly -- if the Exalt facing him doesn't leap off onto the dome, Staren just folds in the limbs and goes faster and faster, trying to blow the exalt off!
Bloody Revelations	+-------------------<<Warship Battlefleet>>--------------------+         TARGETS: Haguro, Starbound, Wandering Dog         TYPE: Piercing/Necrotic/Incendiary         HIT: Minor         THREAT: Low-Moderate         EFFECT: none +-------------------<<Warship Battlefleet>>--------------------+ +------------------------<<Ebon Siaka>>------------------------+         TARGETS: Haguro, Starbound         TYPE: Slashing/Piercing/Necrotic         HIT: Very Likely         THREAT: Moderate-High         EFFECT: none +------------------------<<Ebon Siaka>>------------------------+ +--------------<<Silent Wolf of the Cutting Sea>>--------------+         TARGETS: Lezard, Azure Armature         TYPE: Slashing/Crushing         HIT: Probable         THREAT: Moderate-High         EFFECT: Grapple +--------------<<Silent Wolf of the Cutting Sea>>--------------+ +------------------<<Captain Moray Darktide>>------------------+         TARGETS: Staren, Wandering Dog         TYPE: Slashing/Holy         HIT: Probable         THREAT: Moderate-High         EFFECT: Holy +------------------<<Captain Moray Darktide>>------------------+
Azure Armature	Joining her opalescent riot barricades, the very 'city' of Luthe's defenses rise up and reorient, Armature a martial blur of weapon katas with beam knives and jujitsu throws while unleashing fully automatic energy blasts from her right palm to control the horde that closes. "Of course. I am specialized in mission completion." Another rakish rare smile. "I have allowed myself an objective of opportunity for your personal safety as well." It means she likes you, Lezard. In shitty robo-speak. She's allowing herself to give a shit. D'awww. "Feel free to indulge yourself. We have a surplus of resources to work wi-" Cut off dramatically and suddenly out of the fog of war, Azure is smashed almost off the deck, a meteoric swing even partially blocked by proximity point defense algorithims before the operative becomes consciously aware of the threat -- and through all that, it's Luthe's reconfgurable deck that saves her from going overboard. The defensive cordon around Lezard reconfigures from one assisting in artillerizing to something more condusive to giving Lezard melee cover and channeling the orushing abyssal into at least consistent lines. He goes around the terrain, not through. Translocating back after leaping back towards the fight, Armature shifts her legs into a flying double-kick from the flank with contrails of math-energy as she transitions her momentum across the distance through her heels to force a 'fight reset'. Landing, Armature dramatically adjusts her gloves, flaring the fingers in her hands and taking a martial stance. "Right to the operation. I can respect that. Your chance to retreat is ending, though."
Haguro	Not getting buried under cannonfire, ballistafire, and otherfire is signfiicantly easier as Haguro both adjusts to the trajectory of the incoming shots and the dwindling vessels firing towards her. The remaining ship that seems particularly stubborn, though, proves to be a bigger problem than it seemed at first glance when someone actually hurls herself down to the water to meet her in direct combat. This could be a good opportunity to show off her new expertise with the tailheads. The (different) Abyssal fires off a few shots in the wild woman's approach, but the battle quickly turns into more of a physical brawl once the distance between them changes. "You're the commander of that ship? I am Haguro, fourth of the Myoukou class heavy cruisers. I accept your challenge!" Haguro sounds confident as she shouts that towards the sword-wielder, but her bluster fades quickly when she realizes just how large that sword is and how quickly it's coming towards her. She blocks the first strike firmly with armored forearms and her tail, but the followup from the shadow catches her offguard and sends her skidding back on the water. The following flurry forces the Cruiser to duck and weave again as she narrowly avoids getting decapitated each time, but countless nicks and cuts cover her as she tries to find an opening in the barbarian's offensive. Once she spots what she thinks is an actual gap as the warrior finishes one swing, Haguro moves in. She tries locking her arms together with her opponent before she can get her next swing in, all while her tailheads move in to start biting and chomping wildly to tear at whatever body parts they can reach.
Wandering Dog	Any horrible undead that breach the command room and survive the energy weapons get Wandering Dog to stand up and immediately strike them with a Golden Janissary technique, which chains holy light throughout them to destroy and purify. He doesn't dwell on it. He moves to sit back down, when the elites come. And one of them's a Solar. "Keep units on track. I need to deal with this." Wandering Dog says after several moments of thought, approaching Moray Darktide's direction. He slips out the door, and takes out another group of spectres, before turning to Moray Darktide. Part of him wants to destroy him. But...he could hurt the Silver Prince instead using him. "No need. I am the Admiral of Luthe, Wandering Dog." Being an accomplished sailor, Darktide has probably heard his name and reputation. Wandering Dog doesn't move to attack, yet. "Parlay with the Silver Prince? Do you really believe we'll accept that? Do you know what he's done? Let me tell you who I /really/ am." Cracking his neck and preparing for any quick attacks from Moray, Wandering Dog continues. "I was born in a settlement three hundred years ago in Greyshores. I learned the ideology of the time, before the Silver Prince arrived. I saw the corruption, but I learned to accept ghosts. I wanted to be one of the chosen, one day. But then, I exalted, and I was forced to flee. I learned it was a lie. I learned that out here, outside Skullstone, the truth of ghosts, the truth of the undead, how they corrupt. Surely, though, perhaps you're thinking the Silver Prince fixed that. Maybe he's one of the good ones." Presuming Darktide hasn't attacked him yet, Wandering Dog approaches. "Have you heard of Island Five?" "That's where those soulsteel ships came from. It's why you've never seen them before. But tell me. How does someone get that much soulsteel? Did he really mine it all? There were supposed to be more ships than that - we sabotaged them. I've got your answer. I know what happened to our ancestors. They're now deep beneath the waves after Luthe's attack. He lied to you. He betrayed you." "If anyone's going to save /our/ people, it'll be me. I'm not going to let the undead rule over them any longer." If Darktide's finally going to attack, or doesn't seem like he's going to accept this, Wandering Dog flares his essence, a black and blue pattern of trails winding through his aura, before moving to block any sword swipes, letting them slice into his tunic and his wrists, and try and knee Darktide in the stomach really hard. "Let me give you a chance to rethink this. Do you want to be a hero?!"
Starbound Flotilla	"Told you it'd work." "Shut up."     Mad science and traitorous bullshit come together in the form of success. The Flotilla even manages to keep their ship up! Sadly, it's looking like they've got to refocus, /again/. The Flotilla, being the ultimate switch-hitter of sorts, maneuvers hard and moves to re-engage. "Alert. Incoming fire! It's too direct!" "Maneuvering! I'm maneuvering, everyone brace!" "Gahhh!! Monkey friend isss ssstill out there!"     The Flotilla suffers several heavy strikes on the side of the Vehemence II from that one particular battleship. Albert is jostled away from the main gun, then has to grab a handrail hard as the whole ship moves around, banging him about the walkways! Inside, several efforts to target weakpoints provoke brutal explosions in the bridge, not to mention throughout the Vehemence. "Ghhh! We have been struck! Starboard circuits five through nine are slashed!" "Floran lossst weapon power on starboard! Human friend, help!!" "I'm doing the best I can with the power I got! She nicked our engines!" "Scanning. I think... she's probably a lunar!" "Damnable bitch. She'll have one of those animal things they do."     Albert stumbles and jostles his way back to the bridge. As he slams it open, he's already putting out a fire. "Report!" He barks, aggressively.     "We have suffered substantial damage at starboard deck six. Teams at deck seven are repairing mass slashing damage. Engines are below sixty percent output. Our sybsystems are being /aggressively/ targeted. This matter has gotten quite well out of hand."     "Agreed. Heading sixty, wide engines. Star Three, Star Two, sortie from Starstriders to deal with the Lunar. Board and kill." Albert says. Moonfin and Seft are immediately up and headed to deployment. Leaping into their heavy mecha, they launch from some of the combat drone ports atop the heavy battleship, and then try to rocket-guide a landing on the top deck of the vessel.     Moonfin's Starstrider draws its katana, and Seft hefts a heavy sword and shield that flare with roiling fire. The former rushes to take on the wavecleaver, dueling with a vast sword of its own. The latter begins a dedicated barrage of massive slashes and gushes of flamethrower-like tactics to try to clear the decks and neuter her orders by making her not have anyone to /give/ orders. The rest of the Flotilla try to choke her of maneuvering options by directing their fire on the allied ships, trying to make it so they can't meaningfully provide her any cover from Vermillion's heavier weapon platforms.
Bloody Revelations	Staren putting his rounds into the remainder of the flagging and breaking mini-fleet is rewarded with blossoms of fire and plumes of shrieking smoke-faces, as weapons and power systems crumble into the ocean one by one. The last few ships, outside of the one protected by the Ebon Siaka, go down shooting, as their fearless undead crews sacrifice themselves to put as many extra dents and burns as they can on Luthe, its fighters, and the Brass Leviathan.     The Ebon Siaka herself, though, doesn't give Haguro so much as an introduction. "Whatever you say girly! If you don't struggle too much, you might get to keep your arms and legs when I bring you back as a slave!" she grins, flashing filed teeth. She dips and weaves between Haguro's haphazard shells on the approach, and then hits with overwhelming momentum when she clashes blades with battleship armour, pressing the offensive back and back and back across the water, stepping adeptly from wave to wave to drive Haguro out of range of her flagship.     When the unexpected xenomorph tails suddenly latch onto her midsection and begin shredding her flesh with their teeth however, her bloodlust has apparently made it a total surprise, neglecting to harden her body with Essence just before. She howls in heavily bleeding agony, grabbing hold of the tails and bringing her cleaver down to chop through them, not even trying to pull the teeth out. Her hand snaps out to grab hold of Haguro's neck, and then yank her close to drive the whole giant blade through her chest, tackling her to 'ground' to pin and impale her.     Leaving her ship was also a short-sighted mistake. Seft and Moonfin crunch down on the deck with a landing hard enough to almost tip it in the water. The former is lucky enough that the crew is all zombies under the Siaka's thrall (all the easier to be vessels for her commands) and can be torched to death en mass guilt-free. Moonfin has to chase out to where she engaged Haguro already, evening the odds with his expert swordsmanship.     The pirate Exalt quickly has to abandon her death grapple with Haguro and cease shredding her, turning around to parry back and trade blows with the huge Starstrider, her bleeding having magically stopped itself, but bubbling up and starting again with each parry, as the exertion of her core muscles tears the injury again and again, as fast as it can heal.     The Alchemical engaging the other animal-themed Deathknight finds her foe is a solemn fellow, only grunting as he shields his face from both heels of the Over the Rainbow with his big meaty forearms, flying back to gentleman distance. "My chance to retreat doesn't exist, I'm afraid." he finally says back, his tone dull and near-lifeless. "Nor does my chance to give up. I envy the boy, who can fight with such faith in his country. I envy you, who can fight against it. My role can be neither. I lost that right when I gave the abomination my old name. If I were to run away now, it'd just mean annihilation --a fate worse than mere death on the battlefield. The Silver Prince wouldn't recall me for any other reason than proving my loyalty or dying in the process." He re-engages without hesitation, letting loose a deep, gravely, resigned sigh as his battlecry before assaulting Azure with an entire textbook of what appear to be very close to, by her reckoning, a certain --- Hero Style.
Bloody Revelations	Darktide doesn't seem to have anything he wants to say to Staren. When Staren does his thing, the Solar merely scoffs at him. "A half-hearted story at best. Did you forget to dress it up with the usual salacious details? Not even an accusation of an infant sacrifice or five?" His jaded tone towards Staren speaks of someone who's already heard plenty of sordid rumours, and like a good cult leader would make sure of, has already been pre-informed of them and had a strong disbelief of them instilled. No amount of speed seems sufficient to wrench him away, as he flexes his heroic strength and dexterity and blazes all the brighter with golden light as he rises to the challenge of melee fighting the flying mecha, cutting a dashing figure with his coat blowing in the wind as he leaps and dodges and stab-climbs up the Star Hawk's legs.     When Wandering Dog comes out however, the Solar disengages from his battle quickly and dramatically, pirouetting to ground and wiping the sweat from his brow with his ruffled sleeve, catching his breath and trying to marshal his Essence back. "Indeed, I've heard of you. Forgive my surprise at seeing a wandering martial artist of your stripe turned admiral, never mind having thrown your lot in with . . ." he narrows his eyes and gestures up towards Bloody Revelations, a black dot from that distance, but still a palpable bonfire of Death Essence even without exerting her Anima. "How a man like you could have been deceived and fallen; it makes me despair at the state of Creation outside the civilization of Skullstone. After we'd just won such a great victory against the Lintha, once and for all, as well."     The highly specific accusations from the Dragon-Blooded seem to draw a more considerable pause from him. His mouth twists and the mental gears visibly start working as he's expected to explain away where the ships came from. "I have no doubt the Silver Prince is capable of obtaining that much soulsteel through trade in the Underworld. Skullstone is rich, and I am not privy to every single one of my liege lord's daily economic dealings." The passion and vehemence in Wandering Dog's voice is troubling, however.     Worse is the fact that the 'heretical' Deathknight thinks it's *hilarious*. Before the argument can proceed any further, Bloody Revelations proves her cognizance of the more ubiquitous and basic technology of the Multiverse, and summons an illusory recording from her black jade communicator, displaying the footage recorded from Island 5 right in front of Moray's face, quite probably just out of spite. The Solar's mouth opens, and then hangs open, his brow furrowing and working as he tries to pick out the right rehearsed and indoctrinated lines to explain away what he's seeing, only for it to go on and on and on, until he looks lost and confused --distraught in only the way someone having a religious crisis can.     Then, Lezard lands the meteor swarm on the defenseless Manse. Without the elaborate geomantic infrastructure that defense a Manse as a Manse, it is merely a giant tacky stone skull, which shatters inwards under the magical orbital strike and bursts with fire and damnation out its broken eyes and maw, shaking the entire island under the explosive impact of sorcerous catastrophe, and imploding into a mountain of basalt and onyx rubble, burying any valuables inside.
Wandering Dog	Darktide parrots back excuses. Wandering Dog doesn't get a chance to reject them or him before Bloody Revelations summons her recording. The martial artist looks over it...and it seems to be working. Instead of attacking again, Wandering Dog speaks, full conviction behind his voice. He's got the voice of a speaker, someone charming, and despite his hate for what Darktide is, he knows that together, they can do something he needs to do. "You can't deny what you're seeing, can you? I don't like what you are or who you work with, but you can work with /me/ for today." Emphasis on with him, not with Bloody, as he continues. "The humans of Skullstone will need help. They'll need somewhere to go when the Silver Prince falls. I plan on taking care of them, bringing them to Luthe to create a new society where men are brothers. You can make sure they don't get slain in the attempt. That the ghosts don't turn on them. Otherwise, they'll be massacred if they attempt to flee, most likely. From there on...I'll pay you to leave somewhere. You're a sailor, take your crew and forge a new adventure. Find yourself." It's kinder than Wandering Dog would be to most Solars, but there's a clear 'you're not allowed in Luthe' to it. During his religious crisis, Wandering Dog's hoping he can talk some sense into Darktide.
Bloody Revelations	That finally seems to draw out the seventh and very last line of defense: the Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Waters himself.     That much is obvious to the most oblivious of all possible people. Where the magical aura of the Manse goes dark, there is a moment of pregnant, foreboding emptiness, and then the deck of Luthe is awash in a toxically nauseating aura of necrotic Essence so strong and thick that it is almost a physical, drowning miasma. It feels like a cold, crushing, lung-emptying pressure, billowing off the lone figure that steps out of nowhere and aboard the glimmering deck of Luthe, his steps leaving wet footprints of ice and brine in his wake, seawater in his proximity freezing into the shapes of hands and fingers clawing from beneath the surface of even the shallowest puddle. It seems like even the air darkens, and yet sound amplifies, traveling easily and swiftly even as it feels like one is choking and struggling to move.     He's a little less gigantic than the Mask of Winters, without so elaborate and hideous an iconic face piece. He's tall. Broad-shouldered. Handsome, even. Extremely so. Fair skin, long dark hair, chiseled features, a barrel chest, and generally larger than life heroic physique, not looking even slightly like a ghost. He is clad in a silver robe covered in at least two hundred tiny plated blades of soulsteel, which clink together and moan in agony as he walks, wailing with each step. A suit of full plate is beneath it, swept and smooth and dark onyx, rather than festooned in skulls and horns, but largely covered under the black and white livery of Skullstone. An entire belt of Hearthstones, conquered from the west, jangles along a soulsteel chain belt, and a long, slender, dueling daiklave occupies his hand.     "It seems I've made a grave error, in judging the competence of all you outworlders equal. At the same time as I've overestimated the competence those who chose the right side, I've underestimated the deluded fanaticism of those who fight for evil." He turns to stare in stern, ice cold disappointment at Moray Darktide. "And so I have overestimated the qualities of the prized defenders of Skullstone and her people. How disappointing a day." He even glances to the Silent Wolf after that.     "That's enough out of you for today. Speak your last words quickly, and appreciate the honour of being dispatched by the Silver Prince himself. If you like, you can turn over the witch, and I'm sure my master would dearly enjoy burning her for her heresy, but I doubt you have the sense to be intimidated enough to go back on your goals now."     Advancing on Wandering Dog, he becomes a flowing motion of fluid black and crashes into him with the point force of a rushing train, expertly flicking his daiklave to hurl him all the way into one of the highest towers of Luthe. The guns that turn to face him and blast him with ship-deleting firepower at the AI's requested discretion mean absolutely nothing. With blink-quick twists and flickers of his blade, he splits and bounces massive energy blasts and destructive vortexes with bored detachment, waves of overpowering Essence pouring off of him with every motion. Both Warstriders wheel back, diving at him from behind, and flicking his Daiklave behind his back, he parries both giant swords simultaneously, without looking, hurling both giant machines aside and trapping them both in giant pillars of magical ice he sends rushing over the decks with a flick of his wrist.
Starbound Flotilla	"Ghhh! What is that--?!" "That sensation! It cannot be, so--" "Fucking hell, am I already at heart-attack age? Fffffh--!" "Hhhh... Hahhh... What the hell IS that?!" "Floran can feel death." "*Khhhhhhhzzzzzzzzzz*..."     Each Flotilla member is, in turn, choked by the sensation on the air, needing seconds to restore their focus. As they do, Albert struggles up until he can jam a comms button on his console and shout...
Staren	Well, he got the ships...     But this man has been LIED TO. And that frustrates Staren. Almost as much as having someone clinging to his mecha.     Staren takes advantage of the brief reprieve to open his cockpit, put some stuff outside, then close it again.     When he flies back past Wandering Dog and the solar, speakers and holoprojectors drop onto the deck.     They show an island suddenly appearing in the dark sea. Then a view of the shipyard from a distance. Then they-- oh wait, Bloody's got it already. Well done. Staren lets it show his own view though to corraborate Revelations's, though he fast-forwards through the traps and the monster fight.     "Do we smash it, or do we try and turn it off? Just give the word." It plays on from Dog's own words.     There's a calm before the storm. Staren watches the stone skull of skullstone crack and fall. It's satisfying, but they haven't completed the mission yet...          Staren takes flight again at the wash of necrotic essence. He's a robot, inside the larger machine, and that makes the sense of being unable to breathe when he /doesn't need to/ all the more disconcerting. He's mesmerized by the deathlord's approach though, enough to not just be SHOOTING HIM BEFORE HE CAN TALK. Staren finally realizes that as he scoffs at the comment about fighting for evil.     He fires too late, a hail of railgun slugs hitting the deck where the prince /was/ as he runs forward to fight Dog. "You're one to talk. We're going to make the world better than you can /dream/ of. But you won't get to be a part of it."     He tracks the deathlord, but railgun bullets and lasers can apparently be parried. Hax. HAX!     "No, don't!" Staren tries to warn as the warstriders go for melee. Mercifully, they're /only/ frozen in pillars of ice.     Staren keeps firing, trying to keep the deathlord oh so /slightly/ busier, until he realizes that the Prince can probably deflect his attacks INTO allies, and stops, trying to think of a better plan.     He can start by freeing the other warstriders, maybe, so they can be part of... whatever they come up with.
Wandering Dog	As he's trying to convince Darktide, there's a wash over of powerful necrotic energy, forcing Wandering Dog to reel back. The Silver Prince is here, and he's advancing. Advancing on Wandering Dog, infact. The approach and power should be enough to make any man kneel in fear. But Wandering Dog's hatred burns through, and he forces himself straight up, as he replies to the Deathlord. "The Silver Prince- no, the Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Water. I am the Wandering Dog. But a name that's more important to tell you before I kill you is the one my family, the Malaras clan, gave me on your islands." "My name was Rabo." Wandering Dog starts cracking his knuckles, as essence begins to well through his body. A /ton/ of it. "I am one of the Dragon-Blooded Host. One of the ones you hate." "And I have done the impossible, and doing the impossible, I will kill you. You see...I have reached the Blossom of the Perfected Lotus! Allow me to show you my power!" As the essence builds, energy begins to coalesce around Wandering Dog. "Six Paths Style! Channel the six alternate way through myself!" It happens step by step. Each time Wandering Dog calls out, something changes in him. "Path One!" His hair becomes an oily black, and seems to be made of literal oil, as it whips out longer than it used to be. "Path Two!" His fingernails lengthen, turning into thick, sharp crystal. They become long claws. "Path Three!" His sweat turns into steam, coming off of his body in very hot bursts, as Wandering Dog finally starts to approach the Silver Prince. "Path Four!" The big show, Wandering Dog's body suddenly becomes coated in metal, thick layers encasing over him for armor. "Path Five!" Smoke begins to build around Wandering Dog's body, swirling around his limbs as a weapon, and around those crystalline claws. "Path Six!" Wandering Dog's eyes are replaced with lightning, as suddenly, he takes a step...and then in the next instant, he's immediately up in front of the Silver Prince, moving to impale those smoke-empowered claws through his breastplate. Even if the words Wandering Dog said about being a Sidereal Martial Artist aren't believable, whatever techniques he's using to empower his body are /strong/. The claws are extremely powerful despite just being crystal, and his metal body is incredibly sturdy. "I'm going to bring justice to everyone you turned to soulsteel instead of allowing to reincarnate. I am the Wandering Dog. Remember it until you cease to exist!"
Starbound Flotilla	Recovering, emotionally and physically, from the choking aura, the Flotilla springs into action. Albert cries out. "Squad! Starstriders, /sortie/!" He shoves himself up as much as he can on his feet, and starts helping get the others on theirs and out the door. Heading to the Starstrider launch bays, they ascend hard and fast, arcing high. Albert's thoughts are the kind of thoughts you have when your brain is under the clutch of an aura of death and miasma. They're heading for the "Prince".     Moonfin roars amid his duel, "Haguro! You need only survive mere seconds! Grant me a moment's respite to act!" And he pulls away from the dramatic sweepy blade-duel, blasting back and hoping she can cover him. Seft leaps as well, joining the others back at Luthe, back where all this started.     "Seft! On me! Hit him with everything elemental ya got! We gotta get those stones tied up in defending, /now/!" George shouts, landing right with Seft on her own rush.     "Affirming! Right!" She calls out, drawing her blade and surging it with radiation, cryonics, electricity, and other cosmic elemental effects, rushing to flood the man with them all at once. George dives in, both Starstrider hands flaring wide to expose dozens of welding tools while he tries to pin him and even just barely disrupt the cohesion of the exotic belt with lashing welders and hydraulic cutters.     "Sixth Sea Hylotl Style: Hulls Torn Upon Rocks!" Moonfin dives in with Albert; the latter blasts the air near the man with heavy gobs of thermite meant to burn and melt armor, while Moonfin slashes not for joints, but for armor-links, trying to strip the armor away from his body in the little bits of deflection that they saw the Bodhisattva doing.     "He isss fassst! Bird friend, help Floran keep him from dodging!!" Biteblade calls out, charging her daggers and rushing to plunge them into the terrain and fill it with exotic energies that make any movement punishing and unreliable, threatening to plunge footing into warping ground. Pavo, for her part, soars above, and tries to lash his body with heavy mecha grappling hooks and further prevent movement.
Haguro	"That's a... A confident prediction, isn't it? B-but I won't be beaten down today!" Haguro's retort is a little shaky as she grapples with the Ebon Siaka, struggling to maintain her hold andpress the advantage she has for as long as she can. Alas, the swordswoman breaks free long enough to bring her blade down on the tailheads, cleaving right through one of them and nearly taking it off entirely. There's screaming, and it comes from both Haguro herself as well as the head that's dangling by only a piece of black something. It drips with blood and continues howling even as Haguro's own voice is cut off by that grab. She struggles further in that painful grip, barely even able to let out a noise as that sword goes right through her. The blue light in her eye blinks several times before shifting suddenly to an eye-searing maxed out RED. Except she can't really move that much when she's on the 'floor' like that. Even after the Exalt turns to face Moonfin's Starstrider. It takes several moments before the Cruiser is even able to pick herself back up, leaking blood/oil/shipjuice everywhere and clutching the nearly-removed tailhead to keep it in place. This wasn't supposed to happen this way at all. This was supposed to be a hard battle, yes, but... Aren't they the heroes in this? Aren't they righting the wrongs of the Silver Prince and his reality-defying soulsteel factories? So why is she now stuck bleeding out against one of his generals?! If she can't engage with his general in a proper fight, then she'll just have to fight the wrong way. As the Silver Prince arrives, Haguro turns her arms towards both the Ebon Siaka and the Silver Prince. "Kkh... U-understood! Moonfin! Wandering Dog! Until I sink... You'll get all the time you'll need!" Spitting out a mouthful of blood, she starts firing at both the Prince and the Siaka, staggering her shots like she had with the ships to provide a constant stream of explosions coming towards and around the two. She has no delusions of their ability to defend against her attacks, of course, but that's not the goal here. Instead, Haguro's steady stream of shots are intended solely to annoy and distract, less for actual damage. She needs to keep their attention away from her allies and hamper their ability to defend against the real finishing blows. Without focusing on her own defense, she's even finding it easier to aim than before!
Azure Armature	The Silent Wolf speaks, and a curious expression crosses Armature's face. "Understood." She offers back, shortly before the first strike lands. No-one has ever thrown the entire textbook at Azure Armature in close-quarters combat yet in Creation, and for once, even the grappling, gripping, seizing form of A Certain Hero Style is turned aside. It is a dance, a waltz between the two, interspersed with frenetic swings of the chain-sword that Armature is forced to slide between and besides, flickering and translocating and acrobatically lunging through the air. The grappling waltz is one of joint-locks and reversals, of seized limbs and just-aborted clinches. At one point, Silent Wolf rotates Armature's forearm behind her back, and instead of trying a dangerous headbutt, her shoulder and wrist roll unnaturally, more like ball joints than flesh or bone as she spins around the lock to get her legs around his neck and throw him clear for whatever Lezard's going to do. "You haven't considered all your options." It probably won't matter. Lezard is the flattening sort. But, as usual, combat with other Chosen is regularly vexing. It's not her chief concern as she's dropped to a knee panting and 'sweating' beads of dark oil. The Prince takes the field. Translocating away during the Silver Prince's speech, Azure sends a brief, declarative notice to the group's patron. <"Revelation. Move inside the city."> It is the precise dire tone not of a general at grave rest, nor a captain jogging towards the goal with vim and precision.
Azure Armature	It's the tone of a bomb technician at a full tactical sprint. She re-appears among the Starbound Flotilla as they strike at the seven layers of the Bohdisattva's hearthstone and physical defenses. Right in the thick of things, among the half-dozen attackers, she begins incanting. She had knew that after the Mask of Winters, the deathlords had incredible sorcerous might and many layers of magical defenses as well as physical - but ones uniformly sensitive to a specific angle of attack. "Sword of the Knight of the Sun, heed my call." Armature calls, a tone ringing with conviction as her pale hair takes on bright wheat-golden tips that start burning blond towards her roots. "Blade of conviction, blade of the upright, be summoned by this hand that grasps worthiness." A metallic light and blade-edge glimmer flashes into the air, silver against the dark backdrop of the battle, with a pale white hilt leading thickly to pommel. The blade is no simple golden beamklaive this time, but a fully manifested copy, given physical form with a thrumming investment of essence that casts Azure Armature in a pale-blue dusted and slightly reflective and clay-like complexion. Her aura is that of a spiderweb in blues, surrounding the surfaces around her with a cracked-glass or plasma-ball pattern eminating from her feet. "Sword that bears the Sun's body, show thy radiance. The heat of its flames shall cleanse the impure." She throws the sword, spinning, into the air, up up up where it bursts in the cold, dark night with not just sun-light but the Sun that hung high over Camelot, it's noonday blaze shining down upon the fleets. "Behold the Sun of another world - the light of justice!" Armature's scarf joins her hair in trasformation, a burn across the silk in red-gold. Under her feet, the spiderwebs become sunbeams and concentric rings of runes in her anima's cold blue, and a pillar of light drops from the sun back down to Armature's hands, set to grasp the sunbeam and seize it like a blade easily a dozen kilometers long. "Before this brilliance that sets aside the night, pay your ostentation to the sword of revolving victory, holy sword of the stars--!" Knowing full well the strike won't be the deciding blow, Armature pushes her whole body into a tremendous vertical swing-down, bringing the entire, ludicrous beam of literally-solar light down upon the Silver Prince's form in a consuming flash. "Excalibur Galatine!" The entire attack aims to follow up the Flotilla's breakneck flurry of stripping attacks with one unquestionably massive blast of solar energy to wipe away all his defenses. She doesn't need to deal the decisive blow: The Wandering Dog has the frontal attack carved a path for.
Lezard Valeth	The castle crumbles. The innumerable relic and treasures within are buried under tons of stone. This is fine with Lezard. What was done can be undone in the leisure of what follows. But more importantly, there is the matter of the man battling Azure. Now that he's unleashed his power and collapsed the Fortress, the Silver Prince himself has been forced to take the field. He can feel that necrotic aura wash past him. He steels himself with the same massive defiance against the Great Enemy, Death, and holds firm despite his wounds, despite the lizard part of that hindbrain screaming at him to flee. He is the master of his body. He is the master of his soul. He will not kneel. But that fear sharpens his senses, makes him think tactically. As much as he might want to immediately hurn his force upon the Silver Prince, there is a superior option. Remove a barrier. "If you lack the will to stand for yourself, then die for someone else." Lezard states simply, providing his verdict on the despondence of the Silent Wolf. "Perhaps next life you will fare better." He raises a hand, and light flares above. Brilliant feathers drift through the dark sky, whirling about.            "Perhaps ye desire respite from thy empty existence!"             The feathers whirl and coalesce into a rain of arrows of light, thin beams that blaze down in a rain of holy power across the deck, crashing upon the Wolf like an unending wave.                    "Thou shalt have it! CELESTIAL STAR!"                     The bombardment suddenly focuses directly upon the Wolf, the man having been delayed just enough by Azure to provide for optimal action. This frees Azure up to assist against the Silver Prince, while Lezard removes one more obstacle to victory.
Bloody Revelations	"You certainly are proud of being a congenital traitor barely fit to be a slave of your betters. 'Dog'. How appropriately named'" the Bodhisattva sneers at Wandering Dog. Darktide knows better than to do anything but stand back and watch at this point, despite the multiple stages of disbelief, anger, confusion, and grief all hitting his face at once. "You poor fool. What manner of charlatan tricked you into thinking you'd mastered the Sidereal Martial Arts? How much did he profit off of you, I wonder? I'll put you out of your deluded misery shortly." he says. A flick of the soulsteel blade, and it is limmed in writhing, liquid grey, dripping fluid salt from its tip, crystallizing into tiny spires on the deck.     "Never heard of you."     Streaks of laser beams and sizzling screams of railgun slugs are a solid form of punctuation, fired from closer and traveling faster than anything else going on so far. As expected, whatever manner the Deathlord has for keenly sensing and remaining aware of everything in his surroundings is more than prepared to deal with even light-based weapons, keying in on the powering of the weapon, if not the control signal to fire, if not even just Staren's thoughts of doing so. The spinning blade defies all laws of inertia and physics, leaping and twisting back and forth like a thing possessed, tracking from impact point A to B to C and so on as if drawing dots. Also as predicted, the slugs start to go flying every which way, slipping on the drenched edge of the fell blade and sent spraying in Wandering Dog's, the Flotilla's, Azure Armature's, and Lezard's directions.     Breaking off and shattering the ice, the battered silver Warstriders extricate themselves from their erstwhile frozen tombs, dredging out the last of their batteries to add flashing blasts of heavy Essence cannon fire to Haguro's barrage. One set of her cannons catches Ebon Siaka in the back while in the last exchange of blows with Moonfin, blowing her clear of the waves with a shriek of agonized surprise, and sending her tumbling beneath them. The other set joins in on the numerous attacks piling on the Silver Prince.     Compared to the Mask's style of theatrical stand-and-deliver, leaning on 'make them submit through strength', and Eye and Seven Despairs' style of frantic hide and seek and potshots from positions of deceit, the Silver Prince seems content to stand and weather the storm with a maximum of efficiency, defending himself as the attackers tire out and delivering quick counter attacks in the gaps between their blows, confident in elegantly outlasting them and finishing them off when they no longer have the strength to resist.     He slices Haguro's shells clean in half or lops off the warheads like the tips of candles, doubling his speed to then twist aside and shatter bolts of concentrated implosive essence. His black aura starts to pulse and burn low around him, but only just barely even with that level of defense. Marching slowly towards Wandering Dog while the martial artist counts up, quick flicks of his blade in tiny gaps send shells and slugs, slicing 'air cuts', or shards of magical brine and ice, right back at his attackers, small in scale but deadly accurate and efficient, putting in a tenth of the effort to kill them as they do to him.
Bloody Revelations	The Flotilla crash down in his way, and he's caught between three Starstriders, but still doesn't slow down. Where the elemental storm comes in, he sweeps his arms out and his cloak billows out wide, its wailing turning into a chorus of tormented screams fluttering all about it, weaving a spherical lattice of spectral black lines about him that defies the elements, sending flames and ice and radiation swirling all around him, but never past his cloak. He accelerates even further to slash hot thermite away from himself, pushing his skill and his Essence further to make sure not a drop of it lands on his garb.     Where the welding tools, mecha katana, and giant hunting daggers all hem him in as well, he starts having to shift and twist and turn his body, now ducking some of the cannon shots coming at him and vaulting off the explosions to leap and turn between blows, deflecting strikes to turn the Flotilla's weapons against and into each other. Here and there, he expends emergency flashes of magic to erect barriers of dark ice and seething water from the Sea of Shadows to block and trap the odd too-fast cut and unexpected bend of a welding tool, pressed by attacks from every single side. His few counters come in the form of devastating elbow and backhand strikes, and wheeling kicks, putting his limbs through the mechs when he has the slightest opening     When a welding beam overheats a section of his Hearthstone belt, he goes for George in retaliation, plunging his daiklave into the mech with a powerful pressure wave of crushing black magic, but is then summarily caught by Biteblade's hooks in his moment of contempt, and the belt is cut through with Moonfin's power katana, who is then struck with a martial arts blow that makes urchin spines of inky black shadows sprout through his entire mech and splay through the cockpit. He stops to cut the hook cables.     Stationary, Azure Armature has her chance to dive in. Where she turns to rush from one battle into the other, the Silent Wolf of the Cutting Sea is in front of her in a heartbeat, grunting "I can't let you do that." in a solemn, reluctant tone, but just as he swings for her neck, Lezard drops his AoE holy magic attack of opportunity, and the Wolf is suddenly pinned under a disgusting rain of puncturing energy beams that pin him neatly to the deck, both tactically, and in the sense of where they pierce straight through his arms and legs, nailing thin holes through his flesh that scorch with the taint of evil scoured away by the sun. He turns to Lezard, but by then, Armature is gone, and so he . . . stops fighting. Just for a second. He doesn't strictly have to rush down Lezard, so . . .     The Alchemical has her opening. When she yells danger close into the radio, what crackles back to her is a voice of almost inappropriately ecstatic anticipation. "As if I would miss it." says Bloody Revelations, and stood high atop the command spire of Luthe, the Deathknight withdraws her sheathed sword from her waist and cracks the tip of the scabbard against the metal beneath her. The dark hole in the circle of blood swallows her up, and now she is stood on the spire opposite, looming tall and imperious over the backdrop of Elites, behind Azure Armature instead of in front, both hands resting on the upturned hilt like a sceptre at rest.
Bloody Revelations	The Bodhisattva sees the Alchemical coming. Of course he does. He's seen every one of these attacks coming. He turns to cut her down on the approach, in the middle of her incantation, cold, asphyxiating darkness gathering in thick clouds about his blade, and turning his soulsteep cape against the shower of shells falling on him from Haguro, blowing up the deck and holding him back. Where his own power builds to a quick and efficient crescendo however, right out of left field, or more specifically, from kilometers away and outside his battlefield omni-awareness range, the Brass Leviathan turns and fires on him.     The blinding sextuple ultra laser comes streaking across the deck at a perfect horizontal, superheating the orichalcum surface into a long streak of molten gold, blowing away in thick globs along the air wake. It pierces straight through the sensor tower behind, only sparing the tiny cross section the Bodhisattva occupies, grunting as he strains to hold the sheer brute force of the attack back, drawing from his personal pool now that his batteries are gone.     He's pinned right in place like that when Excalibur Galatine comes down from above at a cross angle, lowering his stance and spinning a three quarter circle to angle it so both meet the same length of his blade, but the combined might is clearly too much. His cape screams and smoulders under the blessed sunlight, starting to evapourate into black smoke. He's driven up to the ankles, then the knees, into the lake of molten gold that the terrain he was just standing on has become. His black aura clings close and dim to his body, barely able to expand an inch from his skin as the oppressive power causes his soulsteel plate to glow and smoke. Shrapnel from exploding cannon fire and excess slugs punch deep divots and narrow holes into it from all around. His skin chars black and flakes away.     Clearly at just about his defense's breaking point, he has to resort to powerful Necromancy now, with no physical movement or Charms to spare, when Nilih joins in as well, making it a three way nexus of utter destruction, where arcane disturbances in the warp and weave of the air cause incandescent fractals of sanity-defying light that scour away any and all matter in the reach of its crackling tendrils. His raised hand glows with the colours of smoking embers, the single word "STOP!" echoing with powerful black resonance, carrying its lung-emptying punch into every ear, even for the living, aiming to freeze the ghost-behemoth in place with a perfect order.     It doesn't, though. Nilih keeps piling it on. Bright bloody red shines from a tiny mark on its upper core, and the Abyssal laughs and laughs and *laughs*. "You idiot." she shouts imperiously from above, staring down her nose from her tower. "You absolute fool. You assumed that just because I haven't bound her, that she has no directions of her own? I have access to the exact same spell you arrogant, simpering liar. The order to take no more orders sticks. She can do anything she likes, and nobody can stop her for the next twenty hours~"     Even the Bodhisattva scowls at that, the defensive nexus around him darkening and redoubling to try and insulate him from the literal lava he's now surrounded by, now planting his boots on adamant beneath. "Ridiculous. That *thing* is a servitor of the Neverborn. A dead component of the whole. A mere servant beast --a Demon of the Underworld, exactly as beneath me as the Demons of Malfeas are. I act with the ABSOLUTE authority of the Perfected Principle of Consumption! You are all *nothing* to me! That *creature* will stand down because I OUTRANK it!"
Bloody Revelations	The Deathknight laughs harder. "Oh gods you're even dumber than the Mask of Winters was. You don't know the first thing about her, her kind, *or* the Neverborn, do you? Not really. Would you like to tell him why, Nilih~?"     It speaks. Two voices, intermingled inextricably from each other, reverberate from every inch of the alien god-ghost's corpus.     Because you are weak, darling~ The order of even this broken world is to obey the strong, and to devour the weak. You are no longer needed, so become my prey~
Bloody Revelations	The assault redoubles, and the Silver Prince's guard falters, his Deathlord quasi-Anima flickering and failing. The daiklave sprouts a hairline fracture down the blade, crying out and then abruptly silenced. A translucent tendril shoots through the spread of beams from the Brass Leviathan and punches right through his chest, intangibly grasping something deep inside, and wrenching out a roiling orb of pitch black nothingness with a scream of the Silver Prince's transcendental pain. His aura all but snuffs out, now bathing him in the devastating, purifying light of Galatine, burning him to a blackened corpse wearing battered armour and wielding a cracked sword.     All in those fifteen seconds. Wandering Dog finishes his count. Remembering he exists, the Bodhisattva Anointed by Dark Waters turns quick and wild-eyed --prominent in his skeletal face, all his good looks scorched down to the corpse beneath-- toward the transformed Dragon-Blooded martial arts master. In the blink of an instant, his daiklave flits up from his side and into the way, poise to strike aside Wandering Dog's Arm and skewer him with a single thrust, in just the same way it'd deflected even lasers from the Star Hawk.     Wandering Dog is faster. He *outspeeds* the Deathlord. Faster than the motion had began, it's already done. He's right inside the Silver Prince's guard, claws buried deep into his heart, and with his big fat window for the most brutal combo finisher he can possibly imagine. The Deathlord stares down at him, dripping blood from the corner of his mouth, shocked and furious and boggle eyed with disbelieving rage, before his corpus is torn completely to shreds, and he ceases to exist.
Starbound Flotilla	Crunch. Crash. Slam. Seft is torn off her feet and slams back, key joints slagged by a rush of fire. "Panicked. No!! Look out--!!" She screams!     Slash. Crash. Slam. "NO! His armor, it's still--!" Albert cries out, right before a chunk of ice slams into his heavy tankmecha and sends it crashing into a wall.     Rushing fire. Screams. A ruthless crush. "Shitshitshit AUGH! FUCK!" George screams, as a blade drives through the main cockpit, punching a heavy dent straight through into the control chamber and rendering it useless, jabbing through to get George in the gut.     Hissing. Screaming. Tumbling. "No! No no no!! Ssstay ssstill! You need to--!" Biteblade screams, before another heavy kick sends them rolling back.     Standing. Living. Surviving. Moonfin keeps his footing. He strikes. He slashes. In this, he will not stop. "My faith will not waver. Balance shall prevail against you, through me or through any other." Hee manages to take the belt. And then he takes a cockpit full of spines. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" His mecha is impaled from the inside out.     Panicking. Pulling. Losing grasp. Pavo'ss attack can't keep ahold of him any more. He's too focused, and the distractions are gone. "No! No no no! He's out, I can't stop him maneuvering--!!" She cries out, trying vainly to latch him again and missing. She falls when the arcane nexus of destruction lashes out, overpowering her powers of flight. "AAAAAAAARGH! NO!!"     All six Starstriders are reduced to prone wrecks. They can do little but crawl from them, hidden in cover, and watch. Of the six who formed a ring of broken metal around the final strike delivered to the Deathlord, only the one with a third eye was able to see the motion that dealt the final blow. But all six could share the astoundedness at the results. Only their wide eyes are visible in the shadows of their torn war machines, each gleaming with a quiet awe.
Staren	After noticing that slugs are deflected but beams aren't, Staren adds lasers again, and then turns the gatling railgun back on as the deathlord is rooted in place.     He watches with anticipation. Soon, the portion of the multiverse in the Bodhisattva Anointed in Dark Waters's ghost-corpse's light cone is going to get that much better. THAT is what victory and seeing your enemies crushed means. Why don't more people understand that?     Staren interpret's the deathlord's command to Nilih as begging for mercy, not realizing what he's trying to do. "No." He says firmly, and keeps shooting. And Revelations reveals her trick. Foolish. What if the Silver Prince can think of a way around it in his remaining seconds?     Staren gives a short laugh at the absurdity of the claim that he won't be destroyed because of his rank.     Staren stops shooting when Dog dashes in for the finishing blow, and waits. He'd be holding his breath if he had lungs.     Several seconds after, he asks, "Don't we need to make sure he goes to Oblivi-- Oh!" The Star Hawk turns and points at Revelations. "It works on death lords too, does it? So now you've got his... soul, essence, whatever, and can throw it into Oblivion, right?"
Wandering Dog	Wandering Dog strikes. The claws bury into his chest, and into his heart, and feeling the kill, in his last moment, Wandering Dog rips the Silver Prince's heart out. He knows that one of them has to be recording. He wants it to be seen. The heart is held up into the air until it dissolves into nothing with the rest of the Prince, as steam continues to pour off the Dragon-Blooded, where sweat would be. He narrowly avoided his death with his techniques. He knew what he was. He was a champion, a stellar martial artist, and a hero. Wandering Dog was also drained. Another push of his energy and he probably wouldn't last. Moving over to the nearest support he can get, he taps his earpiece. <"We've won. Take all surviving enemy Exalted as prisoner where possible. If time permits us, prepare to take Skullstone."> Wandering Dog sighs, as he looks at the group closest to him. They've been good allies...but he knows his path from here, as he sees the islands ahead. <"It's been a pleasure working with you.">
Haguro	Haguro grins slightly as the Ebon Siaka is dispatched and disappears under the waves, but she doesn't celebrate right away. While the Silver Prince stands, she continues firing. Even though he cuts her attack down easily enough like a bored person with a flyswatter, she can see his movements taking his attention away from the real threats: The lasers, the sunbeam, the magic, the... ... Rather disturbing amalgam of voices. Finally, the existence-rending flurry from Wandering Dog. Haguro keeps firing everything she has at the Silver Prince to pin him down, to force his attention multiple ways, to ensure his destruction even as she feels herself starting to tilt and turn. That last remnant of the SilveR Prince fades, and the Abyssal (outworlder) smiles as she falls right onher back. <<"G.. Good work everyone. Take a... We can take a break now.">> Haguro chuckles weakly as she closes her eyes, not even budging as blood/oil-stained water starting to overtake her.
Azure Armature	As all the attacks are batted aside, Armature's tone wavers slightly. The power of Galatine stems from the knight of the sun - a man whose very 'restriction' rests within fighting alongside curageous individuals. Certainly, the entire party is curageous, from Staren's dogged determination to the Flotilla's self-sacrificing charge. It allows Armature the luxury, at the same time, of her own strangely human moment: a doubt that this will be enough. It was a plan that hinged on a decisive blow. A flash of All-Seeing Eye surviving the might of the non-full release of Galatine occurs to the operative. But as she pushes every ounce of borrowed power against the Deathlord, it's not her that seals the deal - it's those brave companions and the assets they seized together that open up the Deathlord's defenses. And the Dog's surprising martial arts and his mastery of form seizes that opening with an unfollowable speed. Dropping to one knee and panting anew, Galatine falls out of the slowly dimming light of the Sun of Camelot and thunks into the molten deck, fading into tiny voxel-particles of white light. "Well. I suppose it's true that shouting the name improves the power." She observes, heavily drained. "I am pleased securing the Brass Leviathan paid off in the end. I remember it being vexing to acquire."
Bloody Revelations	Where Wandering Dog rips the Deathlord's heart out and holds it up for all to see, a slow, sharp, steady round of applause comes from up above. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.     "Well *done*~ I'll be honest: I had my doubts about all that business about the Perfected Lotus, but you really are something, aren't you? I do wonder how in Creation you managed that, hmm . . . Oh well~ Does that revenge feel good? I bet it does~"     Bloody Revelations descends her perch on wings of alien midnight sky, dispersing on toe contact with the ground. "Less than half of many of you managed to do it this time, and without needing to use an entire city as a strategic sacrifice. Clearly, my process really does weed out all the incompetent buffoons." She casts an eye to Azure. "Even if their powers happened to be convenient this time. I'm sure it's in better hands anyways." Denial.     "Oh it's even better than that, my dear boy." she replies to Staren with some moderate smugness. "I'll explain all of *that* to you if you can prove yourself by hitting the next target on my list. Don't worry though, she should be a lot easier to deal with than this one. After that one, I'll have the freedom to reveal a great deal more than you."     She presses a hand to her cheek. "Oh dear, what am I going to do? I think I might start taking a liking to you all if this keeps up. Attachments to the living aren't ideal in this line of work, you know? But people who can keep up with my demands areo so *rare* it'd really be a shame were something to happen to you just yet." She scans around for Haguro for a little while, and then not seeing her, looks up to say "Nilih, please be a dear and fetch the one you like. Her corpse, if she's dead. I don't mind if you eat anything you like after that~" The Hekatonkhire appears to have returned to its inarticulate silence after that, though, slowly descending into the water again.     "I believe I did promise you instruction in how all of this works, though. I'd like you to come back to Stygia. You'll be very popular with quite a few people after this. The ones who won't like you so much . . . well, they'll know that they don't stand a chance against people who killed a Deathlord in such small numbers."     She then waves her hand dismissively about the Brass Leviathan. "Yes, it was annoying, but quite convenient in the end. I have no use for it now though. Do what you like with it. Add it to your fleet. Dismantle it for parts. Reverse engineer it. Try to fix that lobotomized elemental's mind if you're a real bleeding heart. I hear the Realm has a majestic bounty on the thing. You could turn it in for a king's ransom if you felt so inclined."
Staren	Staren rolls his eyes at the smug. He thinks he's proven himself more than enough by this point, but he doesn't feel like arguing about it now.     And then he realizes Haguro's gone. He flies out past the edge of Luthe to check, but it seems the Hekatonkhire is on it. He returns and lands by BR again. "I'll see you there, then."     Dismissing the Brass Leviathan? "Are you /sure/? Maybe you don't have to fight any more water-based deathlords, but who knows if problematic heroes might take advantage of the power vaccuum we've just created to oppose you? Besides, maybe there's yet something that can be done with it in the Underworld's seas. Speaking of heroes..."     Staren turns his machine back towards Dog. "Are you sure you want to run off just yet? Your family is here, or at Island 5. Don't you want to make sure they're free before you go?"
Starbound Flotilla	"We are successful for good reason. That cultivating competence instead of inane fixations is less common merely means more opportunity for us to work." Moonfin smugs briefly. Seft is busy bandaging his wounds. "Worry not about attachment to the living. Attachment to the capable is all you need. Living or dead is merely incidental."     While he gets another bandage, he turns and... focuses all three of those eyes on Wandering Dog. "You still intend to follow your path then." He says, in a tone that, for once, manages to somehow not sound judgmental. "I shall disagree, but your decisions and mistakes are yours to make." He closes two of his eyes, briefly, leaving the third staring at Dog.     "Contemplate this, as you do. There are good people. There are evil people. And there are people that fit into neither category, people who do as they see fit to serve the goals they harbor and cherish far away from the morality of men and gods. And yet, if one does enough good, are they not good? Is good defined by their nature, or the consequences of their actions? What has Bloody Revelations done, and what shall she continue to do?"     "She has destroyed a city, certainly. Deceived, in some measure. Exploited, as is her habit. But what has been lost has been gained in equal measure, and perhaps more. Ghosts, cured of their mortal ails. Tyrants toppled, lies unveiled." He manages to smile through the winces of pain that go through him while Seft disinfects more wounds.     "In this world, there is only so much good that an evil person can do before they one day become good. And the same shall be true in the inverse. To look at the rules and the signs and ignore the true measure is a mistake many heroes make."