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Thread: superbeast (med mission!)

  1. #41
    Dekrueger's Avatar
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    Kieran, Reply #6

    Kieran looked just about as surprised as the Pyroar to have bowled it over so easily. For a moment he felt a pang of guilt, before he remembered that the beast was going for the throat. It was either these creatures or him. No, it was them or Elliot and himself.

    And speaking of the kid… The sound of Elliot screaming forced Kieran to glance over his shoulder in his direction. The second of the two fire lions was already set upon him. Of all the gifts that Ardent’s arrival afforded him, speed was not one of them, he’d have to make it on time. Judging by how Elliot reacted to his instructions, the kid didn’t know how to fight either. It may have been much faster than him, but the Pyroar was now no longer the only thing on Elliot’s tail. Steering clear of the webbing that his companion had just produced, Kieran booked it to his side, but it would still take some time.

    This wasn’t looking good. Kieran had only incapacitated one target temporarily, and now two were bearing down on Elliot? The two needed each other, and this spelled disaster. Had he not been so focused on coming to the bug soul’s defense, Kieran would have noticed the subtle conflicts going on in the Flareon turned puppet. It was only when that sword of hers went to her own throat that he took notice. For a moment he stood stunned, his pace slowing as he drew nearer to Elliot. Even the Pyroars were hesitating. There was some shred left of humanity left in her, enough to urge Elliot to survive.
    Something inside her had fought off the urge to flay them alive. “The cards?” Kieran repeated. The fortunes, Elliot, and now this half Pokemon half woman had mentioned them. They had to mean something, especially if she was willing to put her life on the line to deliver this information. Kieran wasn’t the sort to just let someone sacrifice themselves, yet by warning them the Flareon soul appeared to have transferred the gaze of their other two assailants onto herself. “No!” He shouted, his fists clenching and hair standing on end all along his arms. He took a step forward then felt his leg grow heavy. He couldn’t let her just die in such a brutal manner. On the other hand, she had chosen to give Elliot a spark of hope. The longer they fought, the more he put himself and- more importantly- Elliot at risk.
    Kieran’s shoulders dropped. This would haunt him for who knows how long. Turning his back on the tangle of fire type predators, Kieran grabbed Elliot by the hand and took off running. Already he felt his stomach twist. He couldn’t feel too bad, both he and Ardent assured. She made herself a sacrifice the moment she drew blood from her own throat. “We have to move, or everything she’s done will be for nothing.” He instructed.
    It was only after several seconds of fleeing that Kieran realized that he was not aware of the direction he was heading. Ordinarily, ‘away’ was the only detail that would matter in a situation like this, but here the circumstances were different. He and Elliot had two different ways to go. But Flareon picked him, and he picked to leave her to finish her sacrifice. If he wasn’t willing to fulfill Elliot’s fortune first before, then he certainly was now. Once they reached some semblance of safety, he’d look for an indication of direction, but for now they needed to keep moving.

    Word Count: 598

  2. #42
    Steel Soul K'sariya's Avatar
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    There's something invigorating about being connected to something larger than oneself, to be a part of something that expands further than just you. It's a feeling that she remembered only in love--and only in battle, with her her own life and blood surging into the Transistor, with it obeying her every command. Minotaur charges and she shrugs her jacket back on and shoulders her blade, like a batter preparing to swing. It quivers against her skin as she holds thick handle with both hands, knuckles white as she prepares herself--

    --and then it stops. Avignon flinches more from when it stops suddenly than when it'd started, wincing like she'd been struck as hooves gouge scars into the circus earth. Great skull swings side to side, but the rest of it freezes as if it'd been turned to stone. Her eyes flash to the PokeSouls that had been fighting the girl and her creation to see them wandering to a door that has ceased to exist, colliding with the wall like machines not quite programmed correctly. Something is wrong, she knows, but Avignon cannot bring herself to be particularly empathetic of the eerie tent's welfare. Chill races across her arms at the creepiness of it all but Avignon steps forward nonetheless.

    She breaks into a sprint. Gaze locks onto her target, focusing her attention into a spot at the middle of the Minotaur's chest until she seeks to teleport her form to it, aiming to plant the feet of her warping form into the creature's broad barrel. Avignon would attempt to rip the Transistor upward as she would try to kick off, trying to rip it up and through the creature's throat while the rest of its body is frozen. There was no mercy. Not here, not from her.


  3. #43
    Comic Relief URPG Staff Elysia's Avatar
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    "No!" Cam screamed (no, they both were screaming), one hand outstretched, as she felt and saw Wingnut cut through the performing siblings as if they were butter. His own shock and revulsion flooded through her -- they weren't supposed to be able to hit so hard; their enemies had weapons and should've been stronger than this -- and he landed on the ground next to their fallen enemies, the motors deep inside of him seizing up and grinding against themselves. Gears clicked and his talons gouged sharp lines into the ground; Cam stumbled back as a sharp torrent of despair and shame rose up against them both.

    For that moment, the world shrank down to a single point. There were people around them; a woman was getting devoured by lions and they were too far away to help, the red-head was striking down the minotaur with speed so fast it may as well have been teleportation, the others in their group were performing like clockwork -- but Cam stood there, hands wrapped tightly around her stomach as she tried not to vomit. The taste of blood was strong on their beak, and it tasted like rust and salt and regret.

    No.

    The girl known as Cam re-centered. Blue eyes snapped open. She looked up, across the tent floor strewn with the remains of battle, past the still-clicking hull of her prized creation, and she saw the goal. The mantra had been stamped in her for as long as she could remember: fight for those who cannot. Wingnut was too far away, but no distance could keep Cam from the absolute worst idea she'd had all day.

    We are all machines of war, Wingnut croaked at her. Expect no mercy from any of them.

    For once, his words were unclear to her. Who was he talking about -- himself? Cam? The red-head? The minotaur? All of them?

    Cam didn't care. There wasn't time to care, wasn't time to speak. Focus on the goal. The minotaur was ahead; the woman blinking in and out of existence in front of them. She took one breath to steady herself, just one, and then twisted the joint around her wrist. It wasn't good at working, it hadn't always worked in testing, but right now, it had to.

    Energy flooded through her, enough to make her hair stand on end as if electrified, and space rippled away for a dizzying second. Teleportation was hard. Teleportation was stupid. It defied all logic and it hurt, but at this point that was pretty much par the course.

    With Wingnut still reeling, her goal was simple -- childishly so. Teleport. Between the woman and the minotaur. Stop more blood from being shed. And hopefully not die in the process.

  4. #44
    Bubblebeam
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    Elliott couldn't look away from the Flareon pokesoul- partially because he thought she was going to spring up and slive him to shreds in seconds, and partially because something else was happening. Had the performer been defeated by simply slowing her down and allowing her to think? Was it possibly his smell that was incapacitating her? He highly doubted that. She had dropped her weapon, in some kind of dramatic show, perhaps?
    Elliott shuffled to a distance where he could no longer be sprung upon, but lingered there, watching- the flareon soul was in pain. The caterpie soul that shared his body was not a fan of seeing pokesouls like this. Something was wrong. "Woah wait, you're going to seppuku because you tripped ove--" Elliott instantly fell silent as the reason for the throat cut became clear and she spoke.
    "Which kid? Who? What??" Elliott shot a glance at Keiran, who reacted as if he'd been given the instructions. He supposed that Keiran was probably younger than himself, but maybe they were both kids?
    He felt a tug at his wrist and was suddenly dragged along away from the scene, managing to keep his footing while still watching back at the flareon.
    "What do you mean everything she's done? She did some flips and then cut her throat, man! This circus is crazy!" Elliott didn't mean it in an excited manner- he was clearly distressed and confused by the new development. "Is she even helping us? Don't we need her to show us the doors like they did before??" Elliott continued running with Keiran, but protested. Something felt wrong about leaving the creature behind. It didn't feel like a pre-planned and practised circus act, it looked like ad lib with dangerous creatures.
    "Maybe we can go back and get that other woman with the big sword to help?" He wasn't aware of the simultaneously unfolding battle, but he did know that she seemed more than ready for a fight.

    Post 9, Words 330

  5. #45
    ♥Fiction♥ URPG StaffAdministrator Smiles's Avatar
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    Spoiler:

    Medium Mission:
    This mission requires at least two players, not including the NPC, with at least 15 IC posts from each character.
    Prize Package:
    • IC: P1,500, on top of normal money that would be received from posting
    • OOC: a Medium Pokemon of your choosing + 1 TM


    @K'sariya; Avignon: Post 8
    @Elysia; Cam: Post 9
    @Lychee; Elliott: Post 9
    @Dekrueger; Kieran: Post 6


    #9 // wc: 518

    Transistor charges for the beast’s breast, relentless, ready to rupture flesh, soul and spirit -

    Cam teleports in between beast and woman, effervescent of goodness and life -

    Two lines finally intersect at a point which will no doubt change either’s trajectory forever and ever. On the other side of this dimension, all that exist are mismatched sights and sounds: the feeling of flesh being torn into shreds, of warm blood arching through the air, pulsating with the memory of heartsong upon it. The Flareon PokeSoul’s bloodcurdling cries are somehow brave, for in that moment it’s easy to pretend that she did something good for the two boys. It’s difficult to realize that chunks of your being are being flung far away from you, down into guttural depths and through this air soiled with the scent of slaughter. But she can think she died free.

    Another bite blows open the wall between the dimensions. Everything explodes right where the Vaporeon and the Jolteon PokeSoul stand, sending everything flying meters back in a frenzy of destruction and rebirth. It signals her end; and her end is ultimately the beginning for the two remaining PokeSoul siblings, who can’t stand, hear, see, feel, or touch. No, as the world whizzes by in a thousand colors and sounds nearly incomprehensible to the human ear, all of their very senses are being reworked.

    For they had been restored.

    Smoke crawls upwards from the ground in thick clouds as the two of them scramble upwards. Every nerve stands on end, bodies raw and surreal, feeling returned, the aftershock of the explosion still reverberating. The tent room they had been in now expands to the solar room of doom, its horrid summer heat and neverending shine. The roar of two Pyroar cuts through the air, connecting the two remaining PokeSoul siblings to the slain body of their once beloved.

    Glass shards of that blown dimension drip out their throats, slitting up sealed vocal chords. When their screaming begins, their swords barred, it doesn’t stop, not when they charge towards the two Pyroar, not when they realize what this disobedience could mean, not when they leave their once-victims standing still.

    “Go! You can’t be separated, not here!” the Vaporeon PokeSoul shouts with all her might behind her, voice clear despite the glass still lodged in her throat. From the remaining survivors’ vantage point, Kieran and Elliott are but now red dots hung on the horizon.

    In front of Elliott and Kieran, a looming canon awaits. It spans over ten meters long, a grandeur steel piece inscribed with ancient, golden symbols. Eerie smilie faces are scribbled between the wooden catapult, perhaps suggesting it would be joyous to load oneself up in the machine and blast off, far and wide… But that may be necessary. A little hole in the sky shows there may be a way out of here yet.

    Behind Cam, a little baby bull emerges from the smoke, huge eyes shaking as it totters back and forth on little legs. This small memory of the Minotaur peers up at all of them, a sneeze blowing up dust.


    ❤ MISTRAL IMMORTAL ❤

  6. #46
    Comic Relief URPG Staff Elysia's Avatar
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    In the brief moments before collision, Cam had a sickening thought, one whose origin (Wingnut's or her own) was muddled beyond deciphering: I don't want to die. It was a choking feeling that swelled up like a vine crawling out of her throat and made her screw up her face and cringe away as the ripple in space and time loyally placed her exactly where she'd wanted to go, which was the exact opposite of where she wanted to be.

    She'd always been taught to face her problems head-on, bravely looking at them as they charged toward her and ready to fight back, and for the most part, Cam had done that. But there hadn't been this much certainty, this much dread; she realized here as the red-head continued to barrel toward them, unperturbed, that this would solve nothing. She would be skewered, and no matter what Wingnut did in the meantime, neither she nor the minotaur would survive this. They would both end here.

    The world seemed to rewind.

    There was a pull at the back of her neck that spread across all of her body, and Cam felt herself lifted and flung. She skidded across the ground, rolling like a ragdoll, and by the time she managed to pull herself up, the entire world had shifted. She blinked spots out of her vision; the teleportation already strained her, but she couldn't even begin to describe what had just happened to them. She could see the hazy images of the remaining siblings on their feet again, charging toward two enormous Pokemon that Cam recognized as Pyroar with fluffy, flowing manes streaked with red and --

    This must be what going into shock felt like, Cam realized, trying to shake the ringing out of her head. Everything hurt. She didn't even know why. Words hurt; thinking hurt; there was something adorable and fluffy behind her and the tiny. She reached out to pet its furred head, tiny nubs of horns barely protruding from its skull; the way it sneezed up a cloud of dust reminded her of jumping into puddles of leaves. "Hi," she said quietly to the tiny cow. The ringing voice in her head that didn't belong to Wingnut was suggesting that it was something that might need to be protected. Shakily, Cam pulled herself to her feet, trying to ignore the way that spots filled her eyes and refused to vanish. Wingnut, wherever he was, was probably right: the red-head would probably kill her now, especially when they were both helpless.

    Options. She needed options. But her head hurt. Options: Wingnut was nowhere to be found, and the woman could clear the gap between them faster than he could anyway. She was on her own. And, honestly, she didn't think she could fight them. She could probably phase through the giant blood-sword a few times if she was fast enough, but that wouldn't allow her to defend or attack; it would only help her save herself. Bluffing badassery hadn't worked in the slightest... maybe being friendly would have better luck? "You're probably thinking about how much you want to stab me in the gut right now, given all the stuff we were saying earlier and all... but. Um. Maybe we could not do that and work together. There's a really good reason for why you should do that. Um. And I'll tell you if you don't keep trying to stab everything in the room."

  7. #47
    Dekrueger's Avatar
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    Kieran, Reply #7

    Now this… this was horrifying. Kieran had seen people shot up, clawed, gnawed and flattened. It was part of the life of a Protector to see the effects of battle after the fact, but this was just grizzly. The scent of blood and viscera filled the air, and he nearly expected parts to be strewn after him despite all of their running. He couldn’t think about it any longer. Kieran was always a durable soul, but even this was beginning to make him nauseous.
    “Elliot!” He called to his follower. “Stay with me Elliot. We’ve gotta keep going!” He reminded.
    This was getting to Kieran, hitting him a bit too hard. His throat felt tight and dried out, and his eyes stung with the threat of tears. These made for very poor conditions to be sprinting in, but he had to press on; for himself, for Elliot and now for Flareon. Gods- whether they be meant for the humans or the Pokemon- he hardly even knew the Flareon soul. She’d tried to kill the two of them, but resisted whatever murderous instinct to lay down her own life to give them a chance. To Kieran, it was the sacrifice that meant the most.

    The roars of the Pyroar, some other beast, the sound of shattering glass turned up to eleven. At this point only the sounds were reaching them, and it worried Kieran to no end. Did they have time, or did they not? He slowed his pace regardless as he laid his gaze on a steel monument, the only landmark he’d seen in their sprint across the bleak and flat landscape. “Still behind me?” Kieran asked between labored breaths, glancing over his shoulder to ensure his companion hadn’t been left behind. He couldn’t lose two friendly souls in a matter of minutes. He was comforted not only to know that he was in fact there, but also that it appeared that they were in the clear for now. ...That is unless this cannon had some surprises to throw at them.
    “Human cannonball. Classic. Can’t pass up on the act even in a hell circus it seems.” Kieran muttered. It took everything he had not to give the thing a kick, as though the faced engraved in it were smiling to mock their misfortune. “We’re officially lost. And unless we want to risk passing another fight to follow one of our cards… this might be our only bet.” He reasons, extending a pointing finger past the muzzle of the device to the nearly pin prick sized hole on the the horizon. “Either both of us go, or neither. Your call. I’m not about to make you try something like that unless we’re confident it’ll work.” He says, both laying down an ultimatum, but making it an offer at least. He was all business now, and he wouldn’t let himself live to see another friend and ally pass today.
    Word Count: 488

  8. #48
    Steel Soul K'sariya's Avatar
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    She wants blood.

    Desperately, she wants blood, she wants retribution, she wants vengeance. She wants to see the Transistor rip through the abomination's throat, to see it fall heavily to the ground with the sickening thud of its mass to the earth. She wants to see the life fade from its eyes. On the world, she wants to inflict everything that it had inflicted on her. Even now, as the very fabric of space and time and dimension ripples unbidden with the swing of her sword, she distributes the agony that she'd felt watching him die back onto the world tenfold. Avignon wants every one of their kind to feel her grief over and over, to relive it until they were like her. You either die a hero or you live long enough to become a villain, and Avignon would not give up early enough to stay the former. Instead, she'd carved a path for herself on blood and war and grief.

    Once upon a time, she'd known how to deal with pain. She'd thought that lashing out to harm others was a childish thing to do. But when it became kill or be killed, lashing out was all she could do.

    Red-haired woman blasts back, and there's a sickening crack of a rib when she lands harshly on her side. A cry escapes from her, a sharp gasp that she just cannot quite suppress. Ears ring and mind scrambles. Images flash all at once but she cannot hold onto them long enough to retain them. Right arm props her torso up as she turns slowly to her side. Avignon hisses at the way the curve of her spine stretches her flesh taut against the cracked bone on that same side. Breathing grows ragged, labored from the pain and the pressure on her lungs. Blood trickles from her nose and from her lips.

    The Transistor has fallen a foot or so away. Blue eyes follow the trail of the tubes latched onto her wrist to it. Its agonized warbles join the sharp ringing in her ears and in her brain. "Shut up," she whispers fiercely beneath her breath to it. "Shut the fuck up." How fucked up she'd become, to where even the tortured murmurs of the dead reminded her of him because of the hours they'd spent trying to decipher them.

    From behind, the bastard girl approaches. Her words barely reach above the din in her head. Perhaps in another place, another time, her words would have reached a spot where they wouldn't have been reflected, ricocheted back like bullets, but this is not that time. Left arm reaches across herself to defend cracked rib, and like an injured animal, she looks over her shoulder and back at Cam with wild, icy eyes.

    "Just leave me the fuck alone," she snarls. "Just go." She was sick of the little brat getting in her way. She was sick of all of them.



  9. #49
    ♥Fiction♥ URPG StaffAdministrator Smiles's Avatar
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    Spoiler:

    Medium Mission:
    This mission requires at least two players, not including the NPC, with at least 15 IC posts from each character.
    Prize Package:
    • IC: P1,500, on top of normal money that would be received from posting
    • OOC: a Medium Pokemon of your choosing + 1 TM


    @K'sariya; Avignon: Post 9
    @Elysia; Cam: Post 10
    @Lychee; Elliott: Post 9
    @Dekrueger; Kieran: Post 7

    Very good progress here, everyone!


    #10 // wc: 442

    The baby bull blinks its eyes languidly and breaths out in big huffs muffled against little Cam’s hand. The world comes together before its eyes, colors and shapes that are so much softer than the ones it had experienced what feels like a lifetime ago. Before, all it could see was red; but now, the spectrum of refracted light diffuses and falls upon everything in gentle waves. Moving creatures which were once nothing but bloody smudges against its vision are now human, breathing, living. The baby bull looks up at the child who addressed it with renewed vigor. But then more sounds, those things called words, crash against its developing skill for sensation. Baby bull whips its head over to the woman on the floor, her face contorted with hurt. There are more emotions there baby bull doesn’t understand - for right now, all it knows it in its small mind is that someone needs help.

    Ever so gently, it pads over to a spot on the floor a meter away from the fallen woman. Little shards of another dimension prick into its paws, and it yelps on occasion, rubbing away the tiny particles from its calloused paw pads. Pain. Right, the little bull learns to walk away from those scary things and instead settles away from the woman with full moons in its eyes. The tiny ring on its nostrils shines in the burning light from the knocked out wall revealing a desert beyond. The baby bull doesn’t understand nuances like dimensions, but it does understand the familiar, vague hurt of losing someone dear. Its little limbs bend down to the ground, as does its head, craning downwards. Then it blows healing smoke. Diaphanous rings of grey float gently over to the woman, diffusing as they land on her. They’re not strong enough to heal bone, but they soothe, assuage the pain for now.

    Baby bull sneezes once or twice. That’s what it appeared to be doing anyway, but inside something much better was happening. Another cough reverberates through its little frame, and then the words it remembered how to speak: “Overlord would have never wanted this to happen.” Those eyes glow as it peers up at the woman with the most sorrowful of expressions, scrunching brown tufts of fur and rolls of cow fat.

    Far and away, above Kieran and Elliott, the hole in the sky begins closing. Ever so slowly, it’s almost impossible to notice at first: but focus one’s vision and see how that center slowly begins to suck the circumference in, clouds swirling away towards the point. Insane laughter rolls across the horizon at the quickly disappearing vortex.


    ❤ MISTRAL IMMORTAL ❤

  10. #50
    Bubblebeam
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    Elliott didn't want to look over his shoulders, for fear of what carnage he could see- but also, he needed to, for fear of being chased by the very things that had torn apart their ally. After a glance to check they weren't being immediately followed, he fell deathly silent, fixed his gaze on Kierans shoulder and just ran.
    It had even prompted Kieran to call out to him, to check he was still following. Elliott wasn't the fittest of survivors, so he didn't spare any breath on a reply, knowing that Kieran could probably hear the crunch of his footsteps in the sand.
    That was, if anyone could hear over the crashing and growling of noises that were happening back at the blood-soaked battlesite.

    Once at the cannon it appeared that they wouldn't go any further, and Elliott bent over for a while, sucking in air. He didn't really feel in the mood for sarcasm, but attempted a "..heh.." At Kierans cannonball quip.
    Looking up to where the canon was pointed, Elliott squinted at a slowly-closing hole in the sky.
    "Its either stay here and watch everyone including ourselves get eaten by lions or fire ourselves into the sky in either a grand escape or a grizzly explosion, huh." He reiterated their choices, his face blank and emotionless.
    "Well, We might as well take our chances with the canon. I'm not confident about it, but hey, I'm not confident about anything."
    He hesitated, but only because he wasn't exactly sure HOW to load the two of them into the contraption, or even make it fire off. He pulled the sharp-edged card out of his pocket as if looking at it for answers or inspiration.

    Post 10; 285 Words

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