middleofsomewhere | The Will to Fight: Ongoing: Red and Purple

The Will to Fight: Ongoing: Red and Purple

Dawn Attack

It's been a busy few days of fighting demons, attacking keystones and fighting both on the demon and human planes. On the morning of day nine of the month of Kazoo a gate opens close to the base camp that the two teams have made.

It seems the demons have decided to focus on this unexpected threat, because it is a sizable force, with a number of the large demons. They march towards the camp with single-minded focus, the opportunity to stop these unwanted defenders taking precedence over their desire to destroy the city.

The advantage to the landscape being as ruined as it is, is that there isn't much to stop the lookouts from seeing this force headed towards them. A gate opening is not subtle. There should be enough time to make sure the defenders are ready.

Scouting Ahead

Once that skirmish is won those on the Red team will find their SCA's beeping, with an exclamation point far out to the east.

A group of demons is congregating at the location indicated. Investigate why, defeat the demons and close any gates nearby.

It will take a while to get there and there is plenty to do on the way for those that follow the exclamation point. Roaming packs of demons, gates to be closed. Exhausting work, especially for those going in and out of the demon gates.

Protecting the City

Once it is clear that these defenders are not going to be easy to wipe out, the attacks on the city itself get more frequent. The demons have changed tactics: rather than sending in large groups they open many small portals, sending small strike teams to harry and target individuals.

Some of the attacks are clearly meant as traps: they open the gates in or very close to the city, to lure the Voidtreckers in to where they will be affected by the spell. Ranged attacks may be useful here.

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It was alright, he was used to awkward people. He was an awkward person. Or there was always the people who didn't like him because of stupid reasons.

"Yeah." He agreed, always keeping up his cheer. "I just got here on the platform with my friend Noct."

"Even if you went missing, I would go looking for you this time." He meant it. "I will search for you in this world or in the luggage carriage." They lost each other that way.

He tugs at his sleeve to gently guide him along, "Come over and rest in the tent. This time, you should come and sleep in mine."

"I'd rather you were taking it because you respect yourself and your limits and want to keep your body hale, but I'll take what I can get." At least he sounds resigned about it and not actively annoyed?

He finishes cleaning the wound out, trickling water from the jar carefully over Koumyou's shoulder and back to sluice out the last of the old blood and debris. It's bleeding anew by now, of course, so as soon as he's done he reaches into the ARMS band and produces a handful of little containers. He rolls the bottles across his palm, brow furrowed as he tries to remember which ones do what.

"Here, I think-- this one," he says, pressing one of the potions into Koumyou's hand.

Koumyou knows better than to argue the point at all -- they both know he's not big on respecting himself, or on caring about the damage he accumulates -- as long as he can protect the sutra.

But that's ground they've trod before and doesn't need rehashing, does it? So, he just accepts the potion. "Down the hatch, then? Too bad it can't fix my clothes, too! Maybe I should try using the sutra for that, after the mission's over? Remember when you suggested I could fix a burned up building with it?"

It could be interesting to give it a shot against inanimate material!

When, you know, the stakes are nice and low.

The first time Devero had seen Trunks like this-- on the first day of the mission, as they had all disembarked the train straight into combat-- he'd been. A little taken aback. Gone was the laughing, confident young man Devero knew, and in his place this arrogant, distant, gold-wreathed fighting machine.

But there's no time for any hang-ups about what Trunks is like on the battlefield now, not when they're both out here in the midst of the fighting. And here's an interesting thing that Devero hadn't expected: since he's been sparring and training and, yes, even dancing with Trunks for so long, it's easy to fall into a rhythm with him. Is fighting back to back really that much less of an act of athletic cooperation than waltzing face to face?

Demons ring in around them, mostly drawn to the obvious show of Trunks's power, and the two of them are kept busy. Devero mainly sticks to his batons, which-- seem to pack way more than a punch than when he's used them occasionally in their sparring sessions? A strike across a forearm splatters the whole limb into gore; a defensive sweep sends a demon tumbling aside with a newly-caved in chest. Devero's never been this strong in the training gym-- has he?

"A Guru, actually. And I have no intention of dying here, I assure you. Even if it would be temporary."

"Down the hatch," Devero agrees-- but the tension doesn't leave the line of his shoulders until Koumyou's actually knocked the potion back.

He's relieved that there seem to be no hard feelings, at least, and even cracks a int of a smile at the suggestion (and the fact that Koumyou remembered that). "Might be worth a try," he says, finally sitting heavily on the bench. "I don't know if you'll be able to save your robes after all of this."

"That is only one theory. The humans could have taken something of theirs. The humans could have something the demons need, specifically. The humans could have kidnapped or killed an important demon and this is revenge. The humans could have opened a portal and trespassed on their territory and this is to keep them from doing it again. The humans could be poisonous to the demons and this is an extermination. The--"

(That's enough.)

The cold recitation of potential motives cuts off. The Asset twitches once, shudders, shuts its eyes.

Soldat opens them, and drops out of rigid parade rest to scrub at their eyes with the heels of their hands. "Sorry. The Asset doesn't. It's not. It doesn't do small talk."

Down the hatch it goes! Koumyou takes it like a shot, all at once, and replaces the stopper on the bottle before offering it back to Devero, empty. He's the one with the priest's ARMs band right now, after all.

"Oh, I can save it just fine, I've had far worse! I just don't want to have to do all that itty bitty little stitching if I can avoid it, for any cuts and tears," Koumyou wiggles his fingers at Devero, "I'm very lazy, as you know."

He's really not? But also is? At the same time? Somehow?

The Sanzo sits down beside Devero and finally slumps into him a bit, shoulder to shoulder. He's so fucking tired.

"Maaaaah... I can feel it sealing up, it's so weird. It kind of tickles? Under the skin? I've never had a healing potion before."

Edited 2021-03-21 05:45 (UTC)

Trunks hadn't expected it either, but he's glad for it. Unlike his father, or Goku--albeit for different reasons, Trunks had no trouble with accepting the help. Whether it was needed or not. He's using a combination of his sword, short bursts of ki, and hand-to-hand if needed. Trunks tries to take on the bulk of them, leaving Devero to manage smaller stragglers.

But he'll definitely be expecting to see some of that strength in the training gym, in the future.

The change is immediate and noticeable. Dev watches them a-- a little warily, admittedly, at least until they speak. "Welcome back?" he says, sincere but uncertain given his unfamiliarity with multiple stuff in general.

"They weren't wrong, though," he adds. "Who knows why these demon fucks are attacking? We sure don't have that context, and it would be useful to know." He heaves a sigh.

"...Let them know that I appreciate the intel and their perspective, will you?"

"Of course you are," Devero says with a soft snort. He's not and Devero knows it, but he also knows that Koumyou much prefers to spend his leisure time-- when he has it-- in pursuit of hedonism rather than tedium. And who could blame him?

Careful not to jostle Koumyou, Devero passes him a bowl of stew with his free hand. The priest's description of what's happening kind of makes the skin between Devero's shoulder blades crawl. "That sounds. Very strange," he says diplomatically. He can't help but wonder: would he have been able to feel his wounds all mending as well, if he'd been awake during the healing that night before the mission?

He kind of doesn't want to think about it.

"At least it doesn't hurt?" he says instead. "Better tickling then pain, huh?"

(No. Asset. I'm not going to insist on people calling you "it". You might as well accept that now. No.)

"It heard you fine. It's growling at me about pronouns." Soldat just sounds tired. "To answer your question. Nothing specifically, no. Their realm is like this one. Only lifeless. Gray. Draining. Where there's a rock here or a hill or ruined building here, there's a rock or hill or ruined building there. The demons do not seem to live close by. No camps near to the gates. No cities in the distance. We haven't gone far in. It's not comfortable to be down there."

"Mmm, yeah it's just weird, not painful," Koumyou confirms with some thought, taking the bowl and absently, slowly, starting to eat. It's not like he's hard to make eat, these days, he just forgets. Honestly, truly forgets, all hunger pangs and weakness in his limbs regulated to sheer background noise. That's all it could be for so much of his early life, after all.

Pushing food into his hands is honestly the best tactic, as Devero knows.

"I can tell I'm going to be napping around the train a lot after this one. But anytime I slow down I feel like I'm wasting potential... this mission couldn't have been more suited to the Seiten sutra if I'd somehow arranged it myself."

Which is both good, because he can make such a huge difference in a highly specific way, but it's also bad, because it's pressure.

At least on Nion he'd just been another damage-dealer out roaming the jungle.

Here, he's so uniquely qualified for the task...

But he's still human, bound to a sutra or not. He's still mortal. And mortal, human flesh can only go so long without proper rest.

Koumyou's eyes, of course, aren't bothered at all by what was essentially his own light. So he can glance around their location freely. Which he does. They're the only living things here now, and the only sounds come from them, the wind, and from the gentle rustle of the paper tendrils still floating in the air.

That could change, of course, but for now they're fine.

Those incalculable tendrils vanish next, the sutra returning to just acting like simple paper draped across the priest's narrow shoulders. "I'm sure! The demons in this place can't handle holiness and light, which I have in abundance. I'm afraid the latter is what's dazzled your eyes. Keep them closed for a minute and they'll recover faster, I'll keep a look-out."

"... Sorry." Ken shrinks back a little too, eating in silence for a little bit. "... I'm just used to adults not... caring. Telling me I'm too young to know things..."

Bringing the moths to the flame, hm? As Casper runs his way, he'll surely hear the rustle of long paper tendrils floating through the area. Several of those tendrils shoot past him to impale multiple demons in one move, lifting the bodies from the ground even as they start to decay at super speed, dripping gore.

"It seems I've ordered delivery!"

"No, it doesn't. Can go back to my body if I need to... turn into crow feathers and I wake up again. ... Only done this a few times with my body actually involved. Was in a coma almost a week after I got nearly killed the first time."

He spots a demon trying to get too close to camp and draws his sword, letting it hang in the air before it goes spinning like a propeller blade high into the air, chopping off the demon's head and returning to Otoha's outstretched hand.

"... Left Yurine at the main camp where she'll be safe. We can still communicate. She'll be more helpful serving food or helping with supplies." Not that he thinks that she'll do anything but sit by his body. "Got standing orders to report to medical for scans after every mission, anyway. I'm not worried. If it was an issue on a Karas' body then I'm not sure how Eko... hm."

He pauses for a moment. ... Maybe what he killed was just his soul. He saw him transform... but not a body. That's... slightly worrying. He pushes the thought aside. "I'm getting checked out."

Two hours ago?

[That was better than what she was expecting, but still, sandwiches and coffee are no replacement.]

Perhaps you should take a break and have something more filling.

Hey, efficiency is gonna be key to conserving resources. He stops singing, lest he pull in another group before he's ready, and takes a few steps forward before speeding up and jumping in an arc that gets a good ten feet off the ground. He lands and his black wings flare out. His hands are suddenly talons as he herds them towards the intense light.

"If you can keep it up, we can clear out enough for them to start running." His vision is clear and focused now, glowing lights spread out in a line from him to try to herd the demons. One of them is being slow, so Casper clicks his tongue in lieu of snapping his fingers and the light near the demon explodes into a silent flash bang. "They can't have infinite forces!"

The end of one of the metal limbs opened almost like a pincer and gripped onto the reader, pulling it from Vexen's hands, drawing it to its body, scuttling back from them.

Boop boop
beep beep
boop beep
beep

Lights shone from the sphere in the centre, shining on the three of them and around the tent before it scuttled towards the exit.

He continues to whisper, suddenly hyperaware of only one thing; one fact. The beeping is not random. The beeping is definitely morse code, or at least, if he can decipher an actual word from it just to confirm --

He looks around and spots his notebook and pen on the ground from when he took stock of what was inside his Arms Band. He strides over to it quickly before approaching the radio in Tidus's hands again, letting both Teens figure out the thing that's moving while Roland focuses on the beeps, the bops... No, more specifically, the dots, the dashes. Long. Short. Long. Short.

He scribbles faster than he's ever had to, turning the page to a blank space and drawing out from memory, to some degree of success with the amount of tries he has to do to get it right, a particular diagram. Some lines are dashed, some are long and unbroken. For some reason, this makes sense...Until Roland starts repeating the beeps and bops with his own voice, as if in a secret coded language between himself and the radio transmission. Has he gone mad?

But if he's not making sense with how focused he is on the sounds, his fingers tapping, his voice repeating, or that his writing hand is now scribbling down single letters from the alphabet, it's when he finally gets the rhythm done together with the sharpening frequency that perhaps his madness shows its method.

"A...N...A...N..." Roland says out loud, tracing the pattern of the long and short sounds to the letter written on his brackets. The word Anan is written in plain language on a blank space, before he continues. Sometimes getting it right, sometimes struggling and waiting for the pattern to repeat. "C...O...M...E..." He growls under his breath. "No, that was...Shoot, one more time." If he is attempting to draw in the radio closer, staring at times at Inigo's direction in thought, it's because he's trying his best to remember lessons of a bygone era. Morse, of all things! Older than him!

"C...O...M...E...I...N..." He writes it down. "A...N...A...N...?"

Finally, the task is completed. Or so he wonders. He holds it up for the Twin Teens, his pen nestled between fingers, the page filled out with so much ink. But the message - the final right one - is encircled.

Anan / Come in / Anan?

Willow gives the raven a smile as he flutters over, shaking her head at Casper's apologising. She knows all too well how birds pick up what others say, especially if the language is foul. "It is quite alright, our friends take after what they hear. Believe me, I have heard much worse from a human king's mouth than your friend here."

Her smile quickly fades the second she sees the claw marks, which didn't look pleasant, and is about to speak when Bob does instead. Her expression becomes grim, irritation setting back in but much more worry conveyed as the two bicker. "You did WHAT now? How reckless could you be to dampen such a thing?"

A deep breath, refraining from going into a full lecture and tirade of how foolish doing such a thing was, but it's evident in her posture and expression until he removes the hoodie when she winces at the wounds. Wounds she can tell need immediate attention.

"I need you to sit still, it will take some time to tend to these lashes." She pauses, eyebrow twitching as her hands begin to glow to tend to his back. "As well as for you to feel pain again. My magic will numb it for you as it heals."

In truth, poisons can be difficult to heal even with natural healing abilities, sometimes the spell could cause more pain and she needed to know this before she resorted to using unique phoenix magic involving the healing properties of her blood.

"Look, I've had burning whip injuries before, I only shut it off after the damage was done so I didn't collapse on the battlefield. I figured I could get it healed up when we get back... I can turn it back on whenever I want, I just didn't... want to have to slow down and stop fighting when there were people who needed me."

He takes a few deep breaths so he doesn't lash out in frustration. She's trying to look out for him, she doesn't know the full context, she doesn't know the history. "Just... wash your hands real well after you touch it. My blood has some weird properties and I don't want you being affected afterwards."

He goes to pull off the vest as well and freezes as he hears a distant gunshot. His hands tremble and he pulls the vest off in a hurry before he can chicken out. There's a definite mark from the vest, making it clear that he's worn it for way too long. He doesn't drop the vest, however, clutching it tightly in his hands as he shifts on the ground.

If something goes wrong, Bob will tell him. His fingers twitch badly as he tries to shut out the sound of people out in the field, noises that he can hear all too well. In the relative silence out here, it's impossible for the air to not carry noises, especially for those with sharper senses. He grips the vest tightly as he hears another fight start up a ways off.

"Just.... please. So I can put this back on." He can't be without it for long. He can't risk any bullets coming near him. "Sorry, I just - ... sorry."

"That is still recklessness I cannot abide by, what if--" she catches herself, stopping as she feels her temper flare from the worry. A similar memory replaying of an argument with her brother, but she shakes it off and lets out a huff instead. Casper isn't Sage, but that recklessness is similar. "My apologies."

A nod, she had planned to wash her hands regardless. Even if her flames could purify, it was smart.

The change in the boy's demeanour gives her pause, curious of what's happening. Until it clicks with her that him removing that vest could have triggered something.

"Casper? It's alright, you do not need to apologise." Her tone is immediately shifted to being nowhere near the harsh frustrated worry, but to one of a calm and soft worry. Something a mother would use to soothe a frightened child.

She does begin to let the magic work, a warm and soothing light enveloping the whip wounds, praying that nothing would go wrong.

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Page 13 of 40

The Will to Fight: Ongoing: Red and Purple

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Re: Dawn attack

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Re: Dawn

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Assuming they've crossed paths a couple times in camp already for names?