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 REVOLUTION, official boss battle raid
Audient Void
 Posted: Sep 15 2017, 06:39 PM
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Revolution
Scraps of metal. Gouts of flame. Broken rubble and open wounds.

They are to be expected. Homeo-stasis. Not a day has past without these trappings. Even in those days locked in his cage, in those sterile cells and behind white walls, these sights still accompanied him. They came between those short periods of rest, of stupors brought about by labcoats with needles. They screamed behind his eyelids, these visions of gnarled metal and roasting gore. They begged and pleaded to be made into reality.

Naturally, he saw no reason not to oblige them.

It was unfocused aggression, not lucid or directed, but it filled a certain void left howling in his brain. He never recalled his victims. He never recalled anything. Just hate and red, sound, fury, blood--

It took a face. A face he had seen before. A face that brought him to tears behind his useless swollen eye.

She gave him a mission. Focus. Like always then, he would give her loyalty. Broken as he was, he would give her all he is.

And so, began his rampage.

In the sky, malformed things born of rotten flesh scoured the skys like wasps. Their shrill cries filled the ruins he had made, pinging off the once crowded streets and the blasted out corpses of broken cars as they searched on for his prey.

He heard their song ringing as if in the pits of his ears. While he lurked behind his own carnage, the Okos fluttered about, a vanguard for his inevitable assault.

Very soon, that song would pitch as other slowly approached. They would crowd and chirp, circling overhead with their distended, spinal forms.

When at last they pounced, then would come the true horror. Then would he strike.

Then would begin the revolution. Ustanak.

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Lady Maria
 Posted: Sep 15 2017, 10:10 PM
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A blood curse.

Lady Maria, once of the Astral Clocktower, once Host of the Nightmare, tries to keep her head clear. She tries to focus on what is fact, not the fear that clogs her throat. But it is clear, no matter how she spins it: this is an affliction of the blood. She cannot deny that when she has seen it. Watched men torn to shreds try to shamble to his feet. The dead walk now. Behind it all, Carla Radames: an unfamiliar name. It does not call forth any scholars or researchers. Nothing from her home. There are casualties at every step and still, she feels relief.

Maria moves down the street slowly. She knows death. She knows decay. The sounds in the street tonight are different. She thinks she can hear it pulsating with someone else's sin. She focuses on facts. She learned quickly it was the head that kept them down. A bullet, her blade: through the skull and it dropped them. Almost like. Like.

There's nothing on the inside of these beasts except a hunger.

Rakuyo keeps her steady. She moves with a grace absent from the jarring, conflicting bursts of emotion in her head. She focuses on facts. She could have stayed in her apartment. She should have stayed in her apartment. She knows she cannot. Knows the screams would have reached her, if not from the streets than the ones in her dreams. She cannot sit and listen to them die. She cannot wait and hope her absence will absolve her. Standing to the side would solve nothing.

Another creature shambles into her path. She makes quick work of it, if sloppier than the last. Blood splatters, mars her face like a wound. She is quick to wipe it from her face. She focuses on facts.

This is a blood curse.
But it is not hers.

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Vincent A291
 Posted: Sep 16 2017, 09:20 AM
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ACCESSING

//SystemConfig.init
//Loading War_Hound
//Decrypting
//

Vincent a291
//scorched earth protocol


He'd been trained for this. Trained for this and a thousand other possibilities, given the tools to supposedly handle whatever it was that any world could possibly throw at him. War, disease, natural disasters, the sky itself burning in a more literal sense than most could possibly imagine.

So why was it that Vincent felt so nervous?

War had always been in his blood, a part of his very being. It might not have been what he was born into but it was all he could remember - whatever might have come before that had long since been burned away after it had reshaped him and made Vincent into what he was now. By extension violence made very little impact on him, and questions of morality often had more to do with what became necessary to survive rather than simple "right" and "wrong", a black and white dichotomy that many others seemed to ascribe to. There were certain things that Vincent held his own opinions on, however, and this crossed many of the lines even he himself would not have.

Involving a civilian population was never acceptable, and as far as human history was concerned - at least from where Vincent had come from - hadn't been an acceptable practice for centuries. War had rules, and those who broke them were animals worthy of neither pity nor mercy. It was one of the main reasons that biological and chemical weapons had been outlawed for nearly as long. Neither one distinguished between militant and civilian, or even between friend or foe. More often than not all it did was lead to excessive and pointless casualties. A fact that Vincent, clad in his distinctive MJOLNIR assault armor, was only reminded of as he walked through the virtually empty streets of upper Kadath, a normally bustling area of the city. Whatever civilians were still alive were in hiding, as per the Intelligence Department's public notice. Those that hadn't sought shelter were already part of the outbreak.

Outbreak? No. Attack, or at the very least a case of criminal negligence serious enough that Vincent would've had zero qualms about putting a bullet - preferably several - into the perpetrator if ordered to. Were it not for the bad taste at the back of his mouth right now he might've even enjoyed it. There was no satisfaction to be found in any of this, though, and as the Spartan rounded a building corner the street ahead of him was suddenly no longer empty.

They looked like people. They still wore civilian clothing, still had the shape of what they used to be, moreso than the Flood ever had, but a simple glance told Vincent that they weren't. The ambling gait, the traces of blood and filth on a few to denote the struggle of their last moments, a wound or bite mark on several noting where and how the infection had claimed them. Most were standing idle, and those that had been moving were doing so in a very slow, aimless fashion. Slow enough that it explained why his armor's motion sensor had failed to pick the infected up until he had rounded the corner... and then suddenly they were very, very fast as one looked up at the movement and the rest seemed to act as a single entity.

Silver sidearm left at his hip, it was the MA5 rifle that Vincent had been cradling that was brought to bare. The other thing that had been troubling him was the utter lack of information regarding the outbreak. How it had started, who patient zero was. And more relevant to the Guard, the most effective way to put these down and what they were capable of. Shielded, armored and a sealed environment of its own the MJOLNIR suit gave Vincent much more leeway to gather intelligence in that regard, and even were one of these things to reach him they wouldn't be capable of harming him. With that thought in mind the Spartan took a moment to aim before pulling the trigger, a single round reaching out to punch a hole clean through the ankle of an incoming infected. Tumbling to the ground as the limb failed to support its weight and momentarily tripping several of its kin, the effect didn't last long as the zombie only ignored the pain and began crawling as fast as the remaining three limbs would allow it.

Caution to the wind, then.

Shifting his aim, Vincent would begin to calmly backpedal to keep some distance between himself and the incoming crowd, surgically firing off single rounds at a time to test effectiveness. While overpenetration was admittedly often a concern with the MA5 series rifles as FMJ armor piercing rounds were frankly overkill for all but the toughest of targets, here it was likely a blessing as each round just kept going. As for the sound... as the report of each shot echoed through the streets, Vincent simply ignored it. The sound was likely to draw more of them, yes, something he was quite well aware of as the red mass ahead of him on the motion sensor was beginning to be joined by other contacts at the edge of its range... but at the same time, all the better. The rest of the Guard weren't from military backgrounds bar one or two individuals, and mistakes were to be expected - and those mistakes could easily prove fatal with contagion.

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Lucario
 Posted: Sep 16 2017, 04:34 PM
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Lawful_Good
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Lady Maria Vincent A291

Lucario had been through fights before, those that were killed or be killed at least. He had been through war before too and seen the death of countless beings, both human and Pokemon alike. He had fought to survive for a noble cause, to kill for his queen and for Sir Aaron. Sometimes he even forgot that he was supposed to be fighting for them, when he was beset on all sides by Pokemon. War had always taken its toll and he fought his way through for a noble and just cause. But nothing in his former life could ever prepare him for...this.

Death was normal. Death was kind, giving those affected peace. Death, in all its power, kept people dead and would never, ever bring things back to life. But this...this monstrosity, this horror, spat at death in the face and simply made its own course. The dead had risen and he was horrified by everything that was going on around him. Death had been, apparently, stomped on and thrown away, all logic concerning it also tossed aside. This outbreak, this mockery of life, was not something he was used to. And yet, he was expected to fight? It was a good thing he was trained to keep calm in the face of danger, but this...

Lucario tried to push the panic back down as he prepared another Aura Sphere before tossing it at one of the undead that screeched and moaned as its infection caused its rotting flesh to be blown apart by his attack. The undead fell to its knees at the tremendous power of his Aura Sphere and lay still, finally accepting death. But there were many, many more that needed to be put down. He swallowed thickly as he began to his aura sensing abilities to see if there were more. Their signature was...different. Nearly muted, but still there, and twisted into something that entirely wrong that shouldn't exist. And yet, it did. If Sir Aaron or his queen had been here to see this... He was just glad that they weren't here.

He could hear the moaning before his aura sensors could pick it up, something that was worrying on his end. Usually it was the other way around, and it admittedly frightened him that these...people, defied everything that made the world what it was. Pivoting on his foot, he grunted and dashed forward with all the speed he could muster, the undead doing the same. He leapt at the last minute, just barely being caught by the undead, and proceeded to launch a tiny Aura Sphere at its head. It crumpled to the ground at the blow, but that didn't make him feel any better about the situation. Landing perfectly on his toes, he straightened himself up and tried to sense the area for more of the undead. If he could at least grant peace to these beings, then it would be fine...right?

A strange sound hit his ears. Gunshots, though he didn't know what a gunshot was, or even a gun for that matter. But whatever it was, there was no doubt in his mind that a civilian was in trouble. With a grunt, he made his way towards the sound in hopes of saving at least one more life from the undead. He prayed that he would make it in time.
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Audient Void
 Posted: Sep 20 2017, 12:04 PM
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Okos
Three forms approached in the mind's eye of the beast. One clad in metal. The other in fur. The last one but human flesh. Over it's rampage, the creature had come to know the strange powers of the now corpselike and animate hordes of this city. Some able to call razorsharp wings to pierce it's flesh. Others attempting to spew cold or heat to freeze or melt. In all cases, it was wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

But while a brute, he was a clever predator, even as his massive body shifted in the shadows, slowly treading towards his quarry. He though, however simple those thoughts may be. Gun. Beast. He gave no thought to the last one. How did this beast hunt? How hard did this gun shoot?

And could he chorale them all into his preferred hunting grounds?

From the air, the screeching of Oko excelled to a pitched scream. Like a horde of Locusts, three descended upon each of the trespassers, the dim glow of their ichor and sharp bright of their hateful eyes illuminating the night like angry falling stars.

To Lady Maria three came, expecting little resistance, claws aimed straight towards her with intent to rip and suckle upon her dying flesh.

To Vincent A291 came four, two on the front, two on the rear. The front wave danced and daudled as it approached, purposefully swaying inefficiently while two more of their number saught to find a killing blow on his back.

To Lucario three struck out, attempting to surround and parse the blue monster before rushing him all at once with the fury of the tides.

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Lady Maria
 Posted: Sep 21 2017, 04:45 PM
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Gunshots split through the screaming, the grunting, the shuffle of feet sliding, crunching, breaking on the street. It is somewhere ahead of her, somewhere in the thick of it. She would look, but the beasts come. She has never seen them before, a sentiment she shares with most of the things she has brought down since her awakening. They fly. Maria feels a cold finger down her spine. More beasts she does not know. More curses she cannot name. Zombies, they had said. Then what are these? They are different, she knows, then what she has blooded her sword with to come this far through the outbreak. These are special. They lead.

They are hunting her back.

Rakuyo, still singular, sweeps the air in front of her. Three of them come with abandon. Their moves are unsettling. They jerk and sway, as if they are too heavy, too eager for their wings. She moves with them, circles to attempt to continue her forward momentum. She has long enough to wonder if they have simply come to watch before the first lunges, hungry. She misjudges the erratic motions and swings too early, barely clipping an enlarged limb as it flickers up and away. The second attempts to take advantage of her diverted attention but Maria's hand is at her hip, jerks her pistol to level with it. The bullet tears through the creature. Just shy of center. She does not wait to see if it is enough to drop it, if she hit vitals, curving Rakuyo up. The blade passes through with little resistance and Maria glides back to find those that remain.

They are angry. A chattering noise as their wings flutter. Their pathing adjusts as they do so, and Maria breathes. She does not like them: not the way they move, they sound, they look. They are harder to look at for being so new. Awful, she thinks. They will pick men apart quicker than the dead. They pulse with light for half a second and dive in again, together.

Rakuyo tricks into two and they flinch with the sound. Jerk too close to each other. Her body swings with the attack, a spiral of blades, a pressure of blood under her feet that drives her toward them. Just a little. Just enough to stop them from finding something weaker to hunt. She catches both of them as they nearly catch her. Slices first through wings that cripple them, then through the swelled center of their disfigured forms. A grated leg slices across her face over her cheek to catch her ear, the last twitch of a dying beast. It leaves its mark on her as it crumbles to the ground, its body bouncing against her. Maria flinches backward. She is trained well enough not to look away, to confirm her kills, but Rakuyo tricks again, giving her a free hand to --

She catches herself before it touches the wound. Blood. She's covered in blood that is not her own.

Her hand shakes for half a second before it curls into a fist. The leather creaks as she squeezes, knuckles white under the gloves, the gray in her eyes settling cold. She steps over the corpses. Starts moving again. There were others. Somewhere.

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Vincent A291
 Posted: Sep 24 2017, 09:44 PM
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Vincent A291
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ACCESSING

//SystemConfig.init
//Loading War_Hound
//Decrypting
//

Vincent a291
//scorched earth protocol


They weren't particularly tough, but there were a lot of them - Vincent would be the first to admit that much.

That said, at least these things didn't shoot back. Or throw any chance of survival to the wind and attempt to end both of you in a final blue flash of light and roiling plasma. Morbid as it might have been Vincent was at least thankful for that. As the first sixty round magazine emptied itself into the crowd - at least a fair bit smaller than it initially had been - the Spartan would continue to calmly backpedal as he hit the release and slapped a fresh magazine home to replace the last.

All in all, numbers seemed to be all that these things had along with what was effectively an immunity to pain. Wounds didn't slow them down unless it was a matter of body parts losing functionality. A leg being unable to support weight, tendons or muscles severed to the point that it didn't matter how much you wanted it to move, it wouldn't. At the same time flesh wounds didn't seem to bother them much, either. The Flood was the closest that his reality had ever come to the idea of a traditional zombie, but these things seemed to hit every checkbox you could think of, right down to headshots apparently being the only thing able to put them down for good.

Which begged the question of how such an outbreak happened in the first place. As Vincent resumed his almost mechanical slaughter of the infected, single shots coming in rapid succession and putting down a zombie with each trigger pull... more he thought about it the less sense it made. A small outbreak seemed plausible enough, yes. One person gets bitten and that becomes two, then potentially for and so forth and so on. That said, though, people weren't stupid. These things did not pass as functioning, healthy individuals even by Kadath's standards, and it only took a glance to see that something was wrong with them. Plenty of doors in this section of the city, plenty of areas to corral them into and trap them there for later disposal. Numbers could only do so much to account for lack of intelligence and lack of purposeful action, and even for a bioweapon this epidemic had spread disturbingly far in such a short amount of time.

The only method of transmission that made sense was airborne, but that idea had holes in it as well. If this was intended as a bioweapon by one of Kadath's best and brightest, to leave so many immune to it felt like an incredibly sloppy oversight. If the goal was simply to kill as many people as possible a nuke would've done the job just fine. Not much the Guard could've done to stop her with that plan short of oversight, and it certainly worked just fine for the Insurrectionists who were far more limited in terms of resources and often education. Even assuming that this was a flawed organism, though, the idea of airborne transmission was an unpleasant one, and not something that a quarantine was guaranteed to stop.

That would have to come later, though. For now the only immediate way for it to spread was for the infected to bite a clean individual, and even slowing it down required cleaning out Upper Kadath of all potential vectors.

Down to only a handful of the zombies left scrambling after him, most slowed by disabling wounds thanks to overpenetrating rounds, Vincent was all but set to finish the last of them off when he noticed four new contacts on his suit's motion tracker. They'd only barely entered into its 25 meter range but just based on movement alone the Spartan was able to tell that at least two of them were not the creatures he'd been fighting so far if only because they weren't moving in a straight line. Two of them, however, were, and moving far faster than what he'd been fighting up to this point. Tapping the rifle's trigger twice to finish off the two uninjured of his followers, Vincent turned almost completely around to see.... not at all what he expected.

They weren't zombies. To be completely honest Vincent didn't know what they were beyond what their appearances told him. That they were diseased, every bit as much as the infected, and going off instinct alone they were a threat. The pause during which Vincent processed those two facts was nearly imperceptible, the hesitation all but nonexistent. Only a short moment later a five round burst would fire, a period of half a second that would see one of the flying, misshapen creatures shredded apart in mid air, dead before it the ground and only shortly before its partner shared a similar fate. Not quickly enough, however, as Vincent nearly missed the other two contacts now rushing him from behind, having practically fused into the larger red mass of the surviving zombies on his tracker. Pivoting around to bring his rifle to bare, Vincent got off another burst quickly enough to erase a third of the airborne creatures... but not fast enough to deal with one of the surviving zombies that had caught up to him, even injured as it was.

Hardly a threat on its own as the creature's grip slid over the frictionless, night invisible surface of his armor's energy shield, but it bought enough time for its compatriots and the fourth flier to close the distance. Vincent didn't bother shooting - the zombie was in the way, and there were faster methods of dealing with the problem. Freeing one hand, the flier trying to cling to and slash Vincent's right shoulder soon found a massive, gauntleted hand closing over it and squeezing with enough force to crush tank plate, leaving it a crumpled mess that was allowed to drop to the ground before that same hand delivered an open handed blow that crushed the zombie's skull. Body falling limp and to the ground, Vincent didn't waste any more time as he shifted his one handed aim. Four sharp cracks echoed through the still air of the city street as the last of the mob was executed, a single round to the heads of each.

Taking a moment of silence to look over the fallen mob for any signs of movement, Vincent would then check his rifle's digital ammo counter - 41 rounds left - before looking down to the creature he'd pulled off of him. Ironically the most intact of the four, but that didn't help it much. While the wings were batlike, that was the closest it got to looking like anything natural. The first word that came to mind was "cancerous". At first glance it looked like little more than a flying, head shaped tumor with a claw here or there, but what mattered was that it was new. Under different circumstances he probably would have tried to take it back for someone in R&D to look over, gain some insight if these were connected to the outbreak as the timing of their appearance was far too suspect to ignore. That said, the quarantine couldn't be broken. It was bad enough that they had to deal with an outbreak on this small a scale, and Vincent could only imagine what things would look like if it spread to the rest of Kadath.

"All channels, this is Spartan 291. Be advised, disabling and body shots ineffective on the infected, go for headshots. New airborne hostiles have appeared within the quarantine area as well, priority targets." Vincent began, bringing on his suit's comm system to broadcast. He wasn't sure who was listening or how much of the guard was even present within the quarantine zone, but every shred of information was useful at this point. Gaze lingering on the fallen creature a moment longer, Vincent paused as a new contact appeared on his tracker. Singular, alone, and judging from the direction and height likely just on the other side of the buildings currently separating the street he was on from the next. Bringing his rifle back up to the ready, Vincent started moving, looking for an alley wide enough for him to cross to the next street over.




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Lucario
 Posted: Sep 25 2017, 05:37 PM
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Lawful_Good
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Vincent A291 Lady Maria

His heart was pounding. Lucario could hear it in his ears. Though the gunshots were a fair amount of distance away, he knew that he would find a valuable ally if he could just reach them in time. Hopefully they wouldn't be taken by the...infection...that was spreading from person to person.

He paused at the flapping of wings. That was a mistake. The Pokemon could see three warped beings that were neither human nor Pokemon encircle him, eerily silent. They didn't maintain that silence for long, for all three screeched in unison and dashed forward in an attempt to corner and injure him.

With a grunt, he dashed backwards before running at full speed into one of the creatures. It shrieks as he used the spikes on his hands to stab it in the chest. Using the momentum from his earlier dash, he hauled himself up and kicked one of the things away. Unfortunately for him, all of them were fairly persistent, despite their attacks. He let out a grunt as one of them attempted to bite his free hand, only to shriek as the spike on it punctured the roof of the creature's mouth. Satisfying, but it would take more than that to defeat them.

Another grunt as he took the spike out on his other hand and used the one in the creature's mouth to throw it in the direction of the one behind him. The momentum caused the spike to become dislodged as they were tossed to the side. The steel type gritted his teeth as the remaining one dashed into him, getting punctured by the spike on his chest for its troubles. It became limp and he gingerly moved the creature off of him.

Seeing as the other two were getting up, he prepared an Aura Sphere, one that became larger and larger the closer they came. Just before they could pounce on him, however, he released and watched with satisfaction as they were knocked back, limbs tangled into each other as they tried to process what just happened. He didn't waste any time to dash towards them and promptly punch them both in the neck and the face respectively. There were some satisfying crunches as he punched them, but even then they tried to take a bite out of him. He fire several much, much smaller Aura Spheres at point blank, right into their heads. Both of them crumpled to the ground and lay still.

"I don't have time for this," he said as he turned his attention back to where he heard the gunshots. With a grunt, he began running as fast as he could towards the last direction he heard it from, worried that it had become silent. Was he too late? He needed to find out for himself.
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Audient Void
 Posted: Sep 29 2017, 01:39 AM
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Ustanak
No more waiting. No more bait. He felt their death shrieks, the necrosis of their flesh as it melted to sludge.

He knew his targets. Smelt their blood. Twisted, metallic fingers shrieked, carrying high into the night sky.

The final body hit the floor. It began.

Lady Maria would be first to notice, as an entire building shuttered behind her. Out from the bricks and broken cement ran a towering creature, meters tall, sick, pale, but oozing monstrous strength so typical of the misshapen beasts of Yharnam. It was obviously once human-- but compared to the undead in the outbreak, the Ustanak was a wolf among lambs. One one hand, it held a discarded section of the building it had just ruined, it's wreckage slowly falling further down the street-- straight into the path of Lucario.

The other though was a great jagged hand, one made of scrap and steel, whirling and howling with menace. Even as crumbling rubble sang throughout the long, bottlenecked street, the sounds of scraping rust threatened to drown even that. With it's two stocky legs, the Ustanak leapt high into the air, shooting towards his prey, the metal arm extended. From so high above, he spied his third target-- the spartan Vincent A291.

Some cold logic determined how best he should brutalize his quarry. His brief scouting, thought the beast, revealed most of their tricks. Maria was a melee fighter, an area that no doubt the beast would easily dominate her in. The furred creature was something...else, an unknown that the creature would prefer to deal with last based on how strange it's combat style way...

But the armored man was a soldier, all be it one in a hard casing. His bullets marked him though, his precision, his acumen. The Ustanak cared not for these things, and respected them little. With such a unique vantage point, the BOW used it's momentum to throw what remained of the ruined buildings south wall at Vincent, hoping to crush the agent before he could react.

Shock. Terror. That was how the Ustanak hunted. The two vermin would be dead before they realized what had happened, reasoned the animistic instinct of the mutant hunter. Then, with this last one...

The Ustanak plummet down. It's great metal claw reached out below, making a great, right aimed swipe at Lady Maria. It was certain of this much.

For this target, it would need only strength.

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Lady Maria
 Posted: Oct 1 2017, 12:50 PM
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The wound irritates. Not deep enough to bleed for long, it coagulates on her cheek, stretching the skin. She does not want to wipe it clean with her hands or her arms. But she has seen them, the others -- how they bite and spread their disease. She swallows the concern in her throat and fishes a blood vile out of her pocket. It is a waste but pushes up her glove and presses the shot directly into her veins. She waits, motionless in the middle of the street, listening for movement as she watches the needle wound fade. The heat on her cheek dulls. She does not feel corrupted.

It is the most she can ask for now.

She manages only three more strides before the world comes crashing down. The sound is almost foreign. Like a cathedral collapsing, the building behind her shudders, all the warning she has to turn around before it comes apart like wet parchment. From it, a monstrosity crawls. Disfigured and grotesque, it drags itself from the rubble and steals the air from the street. She chokes on her inhale, stutters an exhale. She feels, suddenly, very, very small.

Ustanak is a visage of horror. A monster that strikes so close to home that she nearly stumbles standing still. It is all suddenly too close, too familiar, too much like all the things she knows to be simply another hunt. Her hand does touch her cheek now, the sealed wound the flying creatures had left. She feels sick. She must fight.

Bless us with the--
Lady Maria.

Rakuyo splits as Maria raises her arms like dials on the clock. She breathes but does not move from her spot on the pavement even as it hurls pieces of the building around her. She cannot. Doesn't remember how to.

Lady Maria.

And then it attacks, bounds forward with a heavy swing and Maria finds she still cannot move her legs to help herself. She's dizzy.

Will I ever be a robin?

Smoke. The dodge is instantaneous. She is in the line of attack one second and a few steps out of range the next. The motion is effortless, but she breathes heavily as if she has just run circles around him, even still in range to take another attack, any attack. She cannot die here. It would do little good. Still, her legs shake, pale, the points of Rakuyo dipping as if she did not have the strength to hold them. She does not move forward, does not counterattack, even in the window left to her from such a weighed attack. Her blood hums.

She's going to vomit.

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Cole
 Posted: Oct 8 2017, 04:11 PM
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Chaotic_Good
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Dragon Age
Cole
Fayt [she/her] is Offline


N/A


Fear, despair, the smell of torn flesh decaying, dying, dead and then not, limping, lumbering, cursed. As the virus spread, there was nothing left of who they once were, the real them gone and replace by monsters that craved blood and flesh from the living, before they too hungered, joined them in their feeding frenzy. They were like mages who had become Abominations, a hideous reflection of everything that had corrupted them and made them into monsters. Except they were never dead. There was no curing death, too much, too late to help. Others could be saved, the walking dead killed again, one last act of mercy to those who could do nothing to avert their fate. It wasn't right. The dead should stay dead. How could he not help when the dead killed the living? He'd thought walking corpses and even reanimated skeletons in his time, but they were less real somehow. The smell wasn't the same either.

That was probably the least of his problems now, the screams wringing in his ears as the creatures flew above, swooping and tearing at those below. They were fast. Cole was fast too. At least the dead ones were slow and thought of nothing but feeding. They were easy to kill, and it seemed that for now the wasp like creatures had yet to attack him personally. For now he was small. tiny, no trouble. That would not last. He could still hear the screams.

There were others here, fighting, dying. He could fight. He could help. He didn't want to die though, so he would have to rely on his keen ability to sneak around and remain unseen, attack from the shadows, daggers from the dark. He hadn't expected what came next though, crashing, bricks and mortar torn and twisted as if they were merely paper. This one wasn't like the others, bigger, stronger, even more grotesque. More dangerous. It wanted only to kill, to follow it's masters whims. That was the only read he could get on it for now though, as it flung a large chunk of ruined building, Cole rolled out of the way to avoid being crushed beneath, heart hammering, threatening to burst from his chest! Hearing was harder when something was trying to kill him, so he would need to kill it first. Not alone, obviously. There were others here. Thanks to The Inquisition, he had learned to fight as part of a team. He thought he was getting good at it, but these people weren't like The Inquisitor and the others. Still, it would take all of them to end this latest threat. Getting near would be tricky, but he was fast. Hopefully, he would be fast enough!

TAG: Lady Maria, Vincent A291, Lucario
NOTES: I know, I'm late!
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Vincent A291
 Posted: Oct 11 2017, 07:07 PM
Quote
Chaotic_Neutral
29 posts
39 years old
Human
unemployed
7' 0" | 298 Lbs
Halo
Vincent A291
Herpderp [He/Him] is Offline


N/A


ACCESSING

//SystemConfig.init
//Loading War_Hound
//Decrypting
//

Vincent a291
//scorched earth protocol


The lack of response over the radio was disconcerting, to say the least. Vincent was used to operating on his own, but never in a free fire zone like this, not unless the enemy was actively jamming communications. There was no way to tell if his message had gone through to the Guard's command staff or if it had found its way to those who had boots on the ground like he did. If there were any others. Something else that had Vincent worried - he'd yet to see anyone else associated with the Guard since leaving headquarters, and given the method through which the outbreak spread that wasn't at all reassuring.

That was neither here nor there, though. The more pressing concern was the singular contact his motion tracker had picked up in the next street over. All on its own, and moving not erratically but with purpose. In all likelihood a survivor, and in the last place they ought to be. Pausing by one of the many narrow alleys that cut between the various buildings in upper Kadath, Vincent's gaze lingered on the passage for several long moments before approaching. Turning sideways and beginning to shuffle along, it was a tight fit between the bulk of his armor and the additional several inches of resistance offered by its shields, but it served its purpose as a shortcut.

Squeezing out into the street beyond, Vincent already knew where he was looking, and to a point he'd been correct. Based on stance alone she wasn't infected. Quite the opposite in fact, judging from the blade she was carrying... one that'd seen obvious use. Vigilante, or perhaps another member of the Guard, one that Vincent had not yet met? Possible, but no way to be sure without speaking to them first. Yet another reason he missed the B-net, you immediately knew who you were speaking to. Their rank, job, name, all the important things right down to medical status. Rifle cradled in both hands, Vincent began to lean forward into another several footsteps before something made him pause. Another blip on his motion tracker - much bigger than any individual person, though, more reminiscent of a small vehicle.

That moment of silence lasted all of an instant before hell broke loose.

Immediately following that initial contact the motion sensor suddenly became all but useless as the entire thing lit up red, unable to distinguish between a living - for lack of a better word - creature and the several tons of falling rubble as the building on the other side of the street seemed to explode. The cause of it all was virtually impossible to miss, and for a brief moment Vincent found himself reminded of the larger Flood forms he'd fought in the Infinity's war game simulators. That chilling familiarity quickly faded as the Spartan took in the rest of the beast's details, however. It had been once a man, that much was certain, but it was enormous, easily standing a head and a half over Vincent's own impressive height. Now a hulking mass of muscle, the thing's skin was criss crossed with stitches, small metal plates... and then there was its right arm, clearly grafted there by human hands.

Was this what Radames had been working on? Several things suddenly made much more sense if viewed in that light, if one began with the assumption that she'd been designing a weapon. And the virus, possibly a means of genetic alteration? In theory, maybe, but that didn't explain the rest of the infected unless incompetence was a factor, and while that was always a possibility Vincent didn't believe it for a moment. She'd been well respected within Research and Development based on her skills alone, and while this... thing could only be viewed as a rather ill advised attempt at creating a super soldier - at least by the UNSC's standards - Vincent wasn't about to discount its value as a weapon, a blunt instrument of war. And while it was slow, incredibly slow by Spartan standards, when it moved it moved with purpose.

More tellingly, however, it was able to think.

Had it been a smaller object, Vincent could've dodged it easily, especially with adrenaline now flooding his system as old habits kicked into gear. Between both his size and that of the thrown object, though, it was effectively unavoidable as the brick wall thrown by the creature slammed into Vincent, the air around him flashing a brilliant gold as his shield overloaded and yellow discharges of energy began crawling over the suit. Even that wasn't enough to fully dissipate the blow, however, the remaining force knocking the Spartan over as the wall broke apart around him. Despite the chaos, though, Vincent was very well aware of what was happening, the world around him having slowed to a crawl. First and foremost was the fact that his newly minted MA5 rifle, while tough, lacked anything approaching the durability of his armor - torn from his grip, the barrel and casing dented and the digital ammunition counter cracked and darkened. Second, however, was where the beast's attention was now focused, namely on the civilian Vincent had come looking for. Not himself, nor on the other youth that Vincent suddenly realized was somewhere behind him.

A cold focus filling him, Vincent's mind ran over available options, limited as they were. His rifle was of no use, and he didn't particularly like the idea of even trying to use it. Even by 2556 weapons could still backfire if clogged or damaged. More to the point, as the creature began to reach out for the woman... it was between Vincent and her. Any attempt to fire on it with the rifle was a terrible risk as the armor piercing rounds would be liable to punch through the creature and impart the same harm upon her. His pistol, however, was another matter, although the thing was less a side arm and more a certified hand cannon. Not quite armor piercing, but the explosive rounds would do quite nicely - punch just deep enough into flesh to embed themselves, then detonate milliseconds later.

Pushing himself off the ground with his left hand even as all of those thoughts ran through his head, time would continue to crawl as if in slow motion as Vincent's right hand drew the silver pistol from his hip, lining up the shot. Vision suddenly zooming in to fill Vincent's eyes with a blown up image of the creature's upper back and neck, the Spartan suddenly squeezed off two shots within half a second's time. Whether or not they were effective, he had his mark. Standing upright, the Spartan would shift his aim slightly upward to zero in on the creature's head, continuing with a third, fourth and fifth shot as the air around him seemed to pop, the energy bolts crawling over his suit vanishing as his shields began to recharge.




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