Grand Battle (S?) (Round 1: SUDDEN DEATH)

Volter missed.

He slammed into the pillar about thirty feet from its top.
The electric crack of pain coursed up his left arm and jolted his mind out of the lofty elation of flight. He missed. He never missed.

With a clumsy tumble he managed to absorb the blow against his armored rerebrace and ended up in an ungraceful, clattering slide down the span of the pillar.

It's the air, he thought, twisting and grinding against the coral to halt himself. It's this drenched, massy, thrice-damned air.
He finished his fall clinging to the pillar in a graceless, distended bearhug. It was just narrow enough to climb, and Volter wheezed the pain away until he found the strength to pull himself up.

The coral scraped and rent as he ascended. He hated the scabrous feel of it, the lepidote, pitiless length of it. He hated it.

This was all maddeningly unfair.
He was weeping, he realized. Like a child separated from his favorite toy.

He pulled himself to the apex of the coral and sat and forced the heaving, ropy sobs into the viscid pit of his stomach. He had to stand up. He had to be useful. Examine the damage.

One pauldron was caved in. His breastplate was covered with a thousand tiny abrasions from the coral's petrified villi. His left palm, to his chagrin, was slick with inky, purple blood. It dripped in thick rivulets down into the cracks of his perch.

What was he standing on? He stepped to the sloped edge and looked down.
It had seemed a spear, he realized, because it was. A great, coral partizan, clutched in the carved fist of a submerged, grim-featured statue of some stodgy, armored creature, whose waist swelled and curled into a swooping tail. The damn thing was nearly as large as the opulent towers of the Duke's keep.
His gaze followed the arciform colossus into the depths of the water, and further.
His teeth clenched.

It was a sunken palace, rolling out below his feet. A huge maze of ghost-pale framework and disconcertingly organic geometries. Perhaps if Volter had been in possession of his senses, he would have found it strangely beautiful, but upon the wind-blasted spear, a fathomless distance from home, he was repulsed. It was as if the ocean had sprouted a flowering growth of infected calcification.

That was when he heard the crash of the huge ball hit the surface, and the burbling wail of a thousand living things below the membrane of the ocean.

Tom loomed over the edge of the spiral staircase, looking downward. It was dark all the way down.

His head hurt for a moment, and his vision shifted. He was suddenly staring far down into the darkness, except it was not dark. It was water. A deep, deep body of water.

"...Another strange modification, Sir?" Tom murmured. "I certainly don't mind, but I would have appreciated if you asked...

He saw blurs of motion below. It darted under part of the spiral staircase, which tapered further into the water.

"Hello?" he called out to the abyss.

There was no movement below, but he heard muffled chatter from the room across from him.

Tom pretended not to notice the chatter as his eyesight went back to normal. Maybe his company had not meant him to hear. His hearing had become rather strong one day- probably another one of his master's strange whims- and it wasn't courteous to be aware of private conversation.

Moments later, four blue figures came through the door. They seemed to be mermaids, but with seamless blue flesh, elongated skulls, and several protruding fins. Coral breathing masks covered their mouths, and were connected to packs resting on their backs. Their fish like lower halves rested on large coral spider figures. All four of them seemed to be wearing some form of smock.

Tom connected some dots.
The tower belonged to these people.
They used coral spiders to walk in areas that were not water.
The massive scale of this building, and the fact that he saw movement below, meant that there was probably an entire people like these four.
Their lack of weapons indicated that they were builders, and probably were not here to fight.

The last point really was the most important.

Slowly, Tom raised his arms non-threateningly above his head. He spoke slowly and deliberately "I'm here in peace." He did not think that they would understand him, but he hoped his tone would convey his meaning.

The smallest of them began to gibber excitedly. The second largest and and most slender of them voiced something sharp, but the smallest already began approaching Tom gleefully. Tom gave a small smile. Thank goodness.

An earthshattering CRUNG broke the mood, and the left wall. Tons of water destroyed the room's structural integrity and swept into the room.
The four surprisingly stood their ground easily- it seemed their spider legs had anchored them to the ground.

Tom however was washed away. Instinct screamed at him. He began screaming. The nodes at his shoulders unhinged, and the sides of his mouth slit open, opening his jaws wider and wider. The slits expanded down his throat, reaching the nodes, opening his giant chest mouth- one of his master's latest horrifying additions. Water slammed into him, flooding the room, filling his mouth, threatening to drown him. However, the water entering his mouth seemed to drain down infinitely, and the rest of the water flowed down the staircase, filling it.

The room was breathable again. Tom rehinged and closed his chest mouth, and then carefully traced the slits of his mouth up his collar, up his neck, across his cheeks to his real mouth.

He glanced at the four mermaid beings. They were no longer ready to approach him. He sighed. His master's strange modifications had not done any good to his approachability. Tom raised his hands again, but the four simply reacted in apprehension. Then, one of them glanced at the broken wall.
Tom followed its gaze. A giant white round ball seemed to have jammed itself into the wall, sealing it. Tom was thankful for that much at least. He was pretty sure his chest mouth wasn't bottomless, regardless of how much it seemed to hold.
This orb was cracked as well. Was that what had caused the damage in the first place?

The four beings began a garbled screaming and dived off of their spiders into the water. Tom watched them go, confused. What was the problem?

The orb cracked further. The entire front piece fell off, revealing a bright orange rough surface. What was it, Tom wondered. The only thing worth noting was the slit running across it.

Then the slit opened.

Oh, Tom thought, looking at the insides of the thing. It was a giant orange clam.

Then it screamed. Tom heard only the beginning before his ears burst.

And, for the third time in recent memory, things went dark.

The ocean turned from a smooth, placid surface of water to a cacophony of waves in a matter of seconds. The ball had rammed into an outcropping in the ocean, what might have been a buttress ensuring the steadiness and longevity of the tower. Like an iceberg, this small tip that barely breached the surface was only the topmost portion of a massive endeavor. The castle below carried the shock wave of coral slamming against coral miles under the water, arousing the few not working on rebuilding their already tattered home. These few were those unable to work, the mothers and their children, the sick and weary. But among them, there were a few able-bodied specimens. These were the ones who jolted out of their chambers and up to confront the source of the clamor.

Coralmancy came quickly to the majority of the ocean dwellers. Even after their first year of life, a young child was expected to be competent enough in the art to carve out basic patterns and letters into the living stone, meaning they were ready to begin their education. But the odd few were weak in the art, only able to command the material to go where they willed it. As this was so trite a power in the eyes of the master architects, these children had a different destiny. They would hone themselves under the water, training to command the rock not for aesthetics or majesty but for brute force.

And having heard another part of their masterpiece had come tumbling down, the Coralriders assembled a scouting party.

"Ka-sploosh!" Kyle muttered to himself remorselessly, giving in to the fantasy of being a barbarian released into a wonderfully destructible environment.

Krugrug peered down toward the site of the crash. The water had a pained look about it, still writhing from the huge volume of liquid the ball had displaced. Barely visible from this height was the boulder glimmering under the surface, having come to rest in a bed of rubble that was once the base of the tower. A proud, lighthearted smile shone on the orc's face, like he wasn't aware he'd ruined someone's hard work for little to no reason.

But then spots of the water rose up, as if to greet their assailant. Krugrug saw the little pink drones lift themselves from the sea, hard to make out from the great distance but obligingly coming closer for the orc's convenience.

The troops ascending to the top of the tower came in two flavors it seemed: those clinging to the sides, shuffling soggily but sturdily upwards like spiders up a water spout, and several that hovered into the sky, machines that looked like squids that suddenly decided to take to the air. Kyle lazily envisioned their nuances, that the tower was lined with trails of grooves invisible to the untrained eye, allowing the machines to climb with ease or that the gliders hovered in the air and shot water back down into the sea to elevate. And yet Krugrug saw the contraptions with his own eyes, and the only thoughts to cross his mind were "Bird" and "Bug". And "Smash", but in all honestly, that neuron never stopped firing.

Krugrug retracted his head out of sight from the first spider rider, who was warily nearing the top of the pillar. He readied his hard wooden club and in another universe, Kyle cleared his throat in anticipation of the first line of the day, making sure his voice would sound appropriately rough and over-emphatic.

As the merman's vehicle hoisted itself off onto the safety of the platform, Kyle exhaled into the microphone, shouting "KRUGRUG BASHES FISH-MAN!"

The club connected with what would be the head of the vehicle, pushing it back towards the open air the sphere had found not minutes ago. The machine's pointed claws skittered helplessly against the smooth, groove-less roof of the tower until gravity ripped it away and down for a long fall into the depths.

Krugrug doubled over in laughter, already confident in his conquest of the weak little fish people.

And then his victory was cut short by the wet whirring of the flying machine rising to meet him. Krugrug stared blankly into the nozzle being focused on him. Prone on the floor and instinctively knowing that he wasn't about to dodge this, Krugrug let himself get blasted off of the pillar by a surge of water and plummeted towards the surging mass of anger and confusion his previous actions had caused.

He strode through the hallways of the sunken palace, even as water slowly began filling the majestic building. The crunch of collapsing structure and wail of living things was a bit more familiar to him than it should have been. Doppel walked slowly, one hand loosely clutching his bat and crowbar, the other held the corpse of some poor mermaid creature by a dent in its head.

He came to a large room, with tables and chairs fashioned from what appeared to be a glass like material. Doppel was surprised, to be honest. He was so far down into this castle, and yet a room like this hadn't been flooded. Well, mostly anyway. There was still the slosh of water as it threw itself around in tiny waves and stained his shoes and pants.

Once more a long hallway stood in his path. He had yet to find another one of these creatures that was not hostile to him. The poor sap that he had ran into earlier just attacked on sight. Quite stupid of it actually. Doppel pulled up the creature to examine it again. Although really, he just pulled the jaw open and admired the rows of needle teeth, arranged like a shark. He pulled one out and stuck it in his pocket, leaving the body laying in the hall with a chunk of coral ceiling he found on the floor. Make the death look like an accident.

He sat on a pillar on the rim of the atoll, watching the bloodthirsty creature drop a piece of the mermaid's architecture on their heads. Their wails were almost music to his ears and he casually tossed small chunks of coral at the point of impact, watching the ball sink slowly into the water. Ganger tapped his machete and butcher's knife together, chuckling to himself as the beast, which called itself 'Krugrug', was blasted through the air by a spurt of water from one of those machines that assailed him. He laughed as the creature dropped through the air and landed with a splash into the water. Ganger twirled his knife between his fingers as some of the things turned their attention to the man on the coral pillar. He waited until they charged him, jumping onto one of their 'backs' and jamming his machete in. The thing plummeted toward the ground, smashing into the coral shore with a crunch.

Sari jetted straight up from the water's surface like a cork from a bottle, just as the distant rolling sphere dropped into it. As she burst into the sunlight, she nearly froze. With a slight motion of her hand, her mask drifted up away from her face, seeming to affix itself in a point in space above her head. Her eyes grew wide, her mouth hung open slightly, and her long arms dropped limply at her sides. She turned from one side to the other in mute wonderment. As she slowly drifted back down, the rolling gleam of the massive sphere's wake touched her foot. Sari recoiled. Looking down at the water, then at the unfolding madness around her, she seemed to reach a decision. She leapt off the waves towards the distant point of a coral spear topped with a disgusted stormtrooper.

Volter peered over the side of his perch atop this alien effigy. The quaking hive of sea-spawn came alive below and roiled with the ill-intent of a hundred score misshapen aberrations. He swallowed the growing lump at his throat. It wasn't that he was afraid of his situation, no. Maybe. Volter was no stranger to battle. That is, he was no stranger to bold, soaring combat. He was no stranger to risking his life for homeland and glory. That was not this. He did not know where, he did not know why, and worst, there was a nagging voice at the back of his mind telling him that he might not know how. In evaluating his options, he looked towards the distant shore, trying to mentally bury the leap he knew to make from his years of experience in favor of the one he was now estimating would actually take him to his destination.

Krugrug suffered no doubts whatsoever. Blasted loose from his high position, his massive body skipped once across the rocks and plunged mightily through the surface of the water. Bubbles rose and popped. The merfolk began to advance again, intending to make certain of the kill.

They vastly underestimated what they were up against.

Krugrug leapt from the shallow bottom, tearing open the water's surface in a shower of shimmering droplets. His meaty fist grasped the overhanging tentacle of a hoversquid.

Kyle, knowing that ninety percent of these action scenes was usually meaningless yelling, grumbled in an attempt to dirty his throat rather than clear it.

"RrrrrrrrAAAAAAUGH!" Krugrug shouted, both pulling himself up and the squid down in one sturdy tug. The barbarian released the tentacle just in time to sail over the side of the squid and land fist-first on its pilot. The impact cracked both the merman and the seat clean in half, showering one of his emerging fellows below with a hail of debris and viscera.

A green streak leapt from the no-longer-flying machine and landed on a bloody crater where one of the coral walkers used to be. Pebbles and sand erupted into the air, the hoversquid hit the ground with a loud and flashy explosion, and Krugrug let out a feral scream of barbaric fury.

The advancing coral-walker merfolk, for once, took a step back.

Volter watched, with reasonable apprehension, as one of the natives on the mounts of writhing arms pointed his position out to one of its bretheren. Time was a precious commodity in a combat situation, and Volter recognized that he had a moment of it between now and when the creatures were in range. He swallowed his immediate urge to leap and fire, and considered his jump again. Was that his first response? He doubted they would be civilized enough to parlay, but he was far outnumbered and less familiar with the terrain. To flee would be to show that he had something to fear from them and-

Volter blinked. There was a flash of wood and steel in the seat of one of the squids, then another. The pilots slumped over, one by one, at the blades in their backs. Their mounts began to plummet, either to crash into the waves or expode brilliantly against the rocks. He stepped forward, preparing to make that leap he had been working out while also trying to suss out the details of his assailants' assailant.

Dangerously close behind him, a bell chimed.

Volter whirled around. One of the others snuck up on him! Slick, sinewy blue, glowing all over with sickly-colored sorcery. Too close! In a moment of panic, all his planning fell away. His boots fired and he soared through the fetid air, firing off a volley of glowing bolts at his aggressor's position.

But the thing didn't aggress. It didn't even dodge. It cocked its head to one side, as if curious about the incoming projectiles, and rang once.

Dee?

Brilliant flashes dazed Sari's senses. Her body soared through the air and rebounded in a shower of blue sparks off the rocks down the shore from Krugrug. Glowing eyes fluttered as she righted herself and looked out over her surrounds. The corpses were beginning to clutter the shore. Krugrug's club tore through mountains of opposition. A bored and lethal apparition dropped bleeding dead from the sky. The purple man had just sent her away with flashes that brought pain and drip of blue blood down her arm and lower back. Sari saw all of this, and internalized it. This was not something to be feared. This simply was.

Sari smiled. Not a sinister smile, no. There was not the menace that a creature sharing our understanding of the world would tie to a violent revelation. It was a simple, cheerful smile, belonging to a being happy to have learned something new.

It was that moment when, far below, a vast and terrible scream began.

The morning his destiny was destroyed began, as all mornings did, with the Ritual. His life was spent in Ritual, of course, nothing but ritual and intense preparation for his future role, but the first Ritual was the most important, and always to be done in solitude.
The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider brushed away the gentle strands of waving anemone that still clung to him, stretching out the cricks and pops of last evening's training. He rose, paused for a moment to admire the intricate stitchwork of fluorescent seaweed spidering its way up his slender frame, and with a stately beat of his tail floated into the Armor Ceremony Room.

The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider's armor waited for him, still sitting seerlike in its cage. Its hollowed eyelets gazed sternly out at its future owner. The sizable fringe of glowing seaweed at its back and the cruel curve of its helm gave it the appearance of some glistering, majestic seabird. In its lap was the bident that was his right, and the woven harness that was his destiny.

What a figure he would cut atop the Prophesied Eighth Shellbeast! What speed and power would they bring to bear with the rising of the Eighth Palatine City!

It was his place at its forefront. He would stand atop his proud Shellbeast there in the shadow of his great statue and there on the liminal plane between the ones above and the ones below he would keep the balance. He would protect his people as their eighth Shell Rider, heir to the proudest, most revered, most important Anthic Matmor tradition.

His fringe bristled just picturing it.

But you are not the Eighth Shell Rider yet, Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider. Very, very soon, but not yet. There are rites to be observed. The Ritual.

With steady hands he tugged the Visualization Root from the cracks in the Ceremony Room's walls and crushed it between his fingertips. The claret stream of juice flowed out and laced itself through the water. He inhaled deeply, and felt its tingling heat course into him. His conscience rose from him, yes, it rose out of the lowest keep in the atoll and up, past the spires of his home up into the Sharp Void and up and further, and up. And into the Egg, where his Shellbeast slept. It would be his everything. As soon as the palace breached the horizon they would push it into the ocean, and there he would be to Imprint with it and from that moment on they would never leave one another's side. His greatest weapon; his closest friend; the creature he had spent his entire life preparing to meet.

And then the Chest-Scarred Redfin Veteran burst into his chambers and disrupted his meditation and told him that something terrible had happened.

The second landing was the very first moment Volter St. Kepral could take any solace in since he arrived at this feculent pile of bone. For a moment his fulminating brain rattled into the serene blankness of martial practice. It was textbook. Lock windfoils, one-two-three, fire off stabilizer left, right, center, one-two, brace, one, slide to a halt. The trajectory was all off, of course, the graceful curve he had mastered turned to a terrifyingly new hop, but it was something. Now. Where was he?

He was standing, it seemed, in the exposed guts of the ruin, far below the spear he leapt from. He was on a shallow arch of some kind of patchwork crystal. The roof of a cathedral of some sort. Further off and down in the water there were more of them, these bottleglass basilicas, tethered to swooping arches of coral. A temple district, thought Volter. Like the ones at home.

You must not think of that word, Volter. Until you can see it again you must think only of escape. You must focus.
And what was there to focus on? The bubbling cluster of domes below him were seemingly out of reach, unless he cared to shatter the glass he stood upon and drop into the city below. Down there were more of those bizarre aberrations from the deep, waiting for him. At least up on the surface, they were focused almost entirely on the hulking brute with the greatclub.

And that crystalline... thing that had attacked him. Well, no. That he had attacked.
All she did was stand there and... ring at him. She hadn't seemed hostile. She'd seemed... curious. Interested.
But he wasn't to think of it that way. They were all here to kill one another, weren't they? He grimaced. Hopefully, the monsters would take care of the big one for him.

The howl that sounded from below goaded a squawk from his throat as well. His reverie and misdoubt were firmly exorcised.
That tears it, he thought, powering up his Seven-Leagues. We're not going down there. We might as well go up.
Perhaps he could square off with that strange blue thing that had so frightened him. His bolts had knocked it away easily enough, and he reckoned his halberd could do significant damage. It had looked so frail.

But she did nothing, Volter. She was right behind you. She could have ended you in an instant. But she didn't, did she?

No. It was not Volter's to decide what that meant, what she was, or what to do about it. He had his orders, ghoulish as they were. Orders were just about the only thing left to him he could understand.
That and the fiercely free joy of the Leap.
He snapped into the air again, and thrilled as it billowed into his rolling lungs.

He had attracted the attention of three tentacular flyers with his takeoff. They corrected course, voiding streams of pressurized water to pursue him as he flew back toward the spear.
Volter's glutinous lips pulled into a smile. Perhaps he would not fight the blue creature quite yet.
You wish to soar neck-and-neck with a Gandeerish Stormtrooper, then, you atrocious New World? Fine. I'll show you what we're capable of.

A mile below Volter's skybound chase, the great Shellbeast that had been meant for a decade to bear the Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider on its back sat in the shards of its pale afterbirth. It purred gently and nudged the sleeping form of the artificial corpse-man it had Imprinted on, its new, best, and closest friend, and waited patiently for Tom Jones to wake up and be its new Master.

"Strange, isn't it?"

Sari turned to see a man that wasn't there before, similar in size to the one that had given her pain, sitting broken coral pillar. He seemed to pose no aggression, casually reclining against the jagged surface of the broken coral and holding a red smeared thing with a blade stuck in the back in one of his hands. The thing was one of those that the fliers wore on their heads. He casually yanked the blade out and turned to her, resting his hands on his knees. Sari rang at him curiously.

"Yeah, sure." Ganger stood up, tossing the helmet in the air and spinning his knife between his fingers. "At least you're not trying to kill me, like all the mermaids were. Here, a reward for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sharp tooth, tossing it to Sari. "Consider it a preview. If you ever find something you want to sell me, I'd be glad to take it. I could always use more merchandise. Now if you'll excuse me..." He got up, gave Sari a curt wave, and walked around what remained of the pillar, the left overs just enough to obscure him from view for a few seconds at most.

Sari caught the tooth, taking a moment to examine it. She chimed at the man, only to see him walk around the pillar. She moved over and peered around, only to find the space absent of any living being. Her attention was drawn toward an area further down the shore, where another bellowing roar resounded through the air.


Krugrug stood and watched as the merfolk reluctantly closed in. Once they were just out of swinging range he tilted his head back and roared, throwing himself forward. With a mighty cleave, he easily slashed through three spidery coral mounts and their riders, then crushed another as he landed on the ground.

Kyle prepared for another bellow, taking a quick swig of water to calm his throat.

"KRUGRUG DESTROOOOOOY!" With another shout of war, Krugrug sliced through his foes like a knife through butter, making even the most war hardened merfolk start to back up in fear. He laughed as they took their tentative steps back. He would take their puny lives and crush them in his meaty fists.


Doppel sat on a fringe adorning the wall, deep in the bowels of the palace. He watched a creature, newly hatched, supposedly ferocious by nature, gently cuddle the sleeping form of Tom Jones. It could be called cute. He wouldn't deny it. But he had more important business to attend to. The business of making a deal of course. Any man with a beast like that on his side was certainly someone worth fighting with. Doppel leaned back, flipping through the strange, coral book he found in the palace's giant library. It was about Shellbeasts. Best know about your possible companions. And threats. One of the best sayings was, to him, 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'.

Tom fought consciousness. Only a brief flash of self-preservation forced his eyes open.

As he adjusted to the dim lighting a flicker of something fled from his vision. But his vision was clouded with spots, and he was much more focused on the huge, soggy beast lumbering over him.

"Okay," he said to himself as he came to his senses, "you're an impressive monstrosity and you're coming close to crushing me under your weight. But I've been laying prone long enough for you to have made a meal of me any time you wanted. So for the moment," he said looking across the room "you're not the most pressing concern."

The massive egg that had contained the beast was still plugging the opening in the wall it had created. It was clearly strong considering how well it had survived the ten story fall that had befallen it, but without it's inhabitant it would become significantly less sturdy. Already, Tom could focus on the shell and see hairlines forming, ready to burst under a league of pressure.

Tom strained his lungs under the great orange lummox, seeing if he had the power to stave off another flood, but this was not the case. He turned his head to address the thing, coddling him like a gratefully puppy. "If you're so fond me, creature, I hope you're willing to hold on. It looks like we're going for a bit of a trip."


The mermen had formed units, and they swarmed the surface and the skies, ready to run down any of the intruders that had been detected. And although the squadrons were combing the area looking for more of the maniacs hiding in the woodwork, they all seemed to be missing the one standing perfectly out in the open.

Krugrug continued on a stroll down the rock formations that comprised the great sea ring. His campaign of destruction had taken a slight pause as he struggled to find any targets. A no man's land of sorts had formed around him, as the walkers and swimmers scurried to stayed out of a two-hundred foot radius of the killing machine and the gliders maintained altitude to stay safely out of reach.

Kyle considered popping out of the studio for a refresher on his coffee. The big fighting montage and the majority of the grunting was over. This meant that the next bit was going to be a slow scene, either one with a lot of landscape traveling and art budget spending or one with character interaction and a mild attempt to add a touch of friendship to stave off cancellation. Either a lot of talking or none at all, and he wasn't about to be bothered to slog through the script to find out.

Along the ring of coral, the sharp rocky shoals occasionally offered up soft, bright white sandbars. Krugrug plopped himself down on the side of the water and submerged the tip of his club in the ocean, loosing the blood and bits from it. He watched the water gain a tinge of red for a moment before the tide dissipated it. He lifted his head to gaze upon the horizon, looking at the sparse population of islands, beautifully breaching the bright sky with their shallow, time-worn peaks. A few thoughts floated in the orc's mind with some struggle. Maybe...he wasn't supposed to smash right now? Maybe.....there was more he could do than smas

Suddenly a giant, coral encrusted leviathan rose out of the water, covered in mercreatures staring daggers at the bloodthirsty beast that refused to stay down.

The creature had the shape of a whale with uncompromising, crustacean-like coral forming an exoskeleton. Large and small tentacles burst from the sides of it, ready to lunge for it's prey. Ganger smirked and snatched the encyclopedia from his double, trying to identify the impressive new creature. If the green machine couldn't take it down, he was going to have fun with it.

The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider listened calmly. His Shell, his friend, had been disturbed early. The news was dire, but it rippled and rolled over his Ashadak-trained calmness bubble.

"Thank you for the news." He said, turning back to his room.

"b-but sir! There's more! We're having reports of intruders!"

"What?"

"They're around the-"

"No. Address me properly, Redfin."

The seasoned veteran caught on and rectified his mistake immediately.
"My apologies, O' Destined One. There seem to be intruders above water. Our patrols are being slaughtered! These intruders are not ordinary! Demons, I believe! We've already sent the Leviathan Squad, but-"

That caught the Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider's attention. Demons. Mighty Demons. He smiled grimly, and his bubble began wavering as his spirit shook. Noting the symptoms, he corrected himself instantly.

"Notify the Adjuncts. WE will ascend."

The Redfin veteran grinned as he ran to alert the others, leaving the Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider to his thoughts.

His friend had been awakened early. A ripple of worry crossed his bubble.
It means nothing. A simple variation that will be the start of our legend."
Yes, that was how it was. The worry ripple was cancelled by a resonance of confidence. There was no way his Destined Friend would have bonded anyone else. True, it was theoretically possible, but in actuality? Impossible. There were no beings but himself who could withstand the Shell Beast's bonding roar. Listening to that uncontrolled cry of life would kill all those within forty-eight furongs.

He exhaled softly, and the corals of the room jumped. Yes, the Shell Beast was destined for him.

He was the strongest Coral-breather in documented history.

The armor on the stand lurched through the water towards him, coiling onto his body. Thousands of twisted coral layers defined his form. Simply manipulating the Destined Armor required six hundred breaths of ability. The average Coral-breather had but one hundred. The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider had two thousand.

To his shelf, he breathed the demand for his weapons. Ten spears flew at him, answering his pull. These spears were made of six times the coral a normal Fisher carried. Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider grabbed the first one out of its course towards his neck.

He was the finest warrior known in seven generations.

Gently, he deflected the other nine spears out of their fatal paths with four twists of the spear he held. Water crashed into the voids the Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider made as he performed his divine techniques. As if understanding they had been mastered, the spears guided themselves into place in their sheathes on the Destined Armor. They formed the shape of a fan along his back.

He was the Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider.

He exited the room, flanked by the thirty Adjuncts that waited outside his room. He smiled now. It was early, but today his, no, their legend began.

Wait for me, my friend. I'll be there soon.



Tom leaped to the Clam's back, and promptly lost his balance. He tried to right himself, but failed. The Shell Beast cooed worriedly. His balance was gone. His ears, his ears. They were damaged. From what? How far did the damage go?

Blood trickled from his nose. Oh, he thought. It was much worse than expected. Was he dying?

"I'll either die here, or drown, I suppose." He sighed, but it turned into a cough as blood came up his throat. He held his mouth, and looked at his bloody hands. "O-oh well. It is better than anyone else's blood, I suppose. I suppose this... is for the best."

Tom closed his eyes and rested on the Shell Beast. Survival Instinct surged through him. What was that? No, Tom had no survival instinct. That was a thing for living beings... Tom slipped out of consciousness.

"Do you think men have natures, Tom Jones?" His master said, facing the stormy night.

"I don't know, Sir." Tom replied.

His master laughed. A cold, unbalanced laugh. "Neither did I. You were my answer to that one."

"I do not understand, Sir." Tom replied evenly.

"That really just proves my point, you know." The man laughed again, accentuating the wildness in his eyes. "Actually, you don't know. Ha! Come, Tom Jones. I don't think we'll do any shopping today. Come, I want to test a theory. A friend explained to me how worms worked, you see, and I've made same worms of my own..."

Tom Jones dreamed- another thing only the living should be able to do. He dreamed and lay still.

Tome Jones, however, got up.
Can't hear, can't hear. Fix it. Hurt inside, fix it. Inside of Tome, the worms began to move. They slowly nibbled Tome's damaged parts, and regurgitated more basic matter that other types of worms could make use of.
Rushing water. Nearly full stomach. Too much water, will drown. On top of beast. Smell. Smells submissive. Submissive beast. Mine.
Tome hissed at the beast. Rise, beast. Get me out of here.

The Shell Beast complied. It began singing. Bits of coral around it wrapped itself around the clam, forming fins. Tome breathed deeply, readying himself for the dive. His lungs inflated enormously, protruding from the slits in the back of his suit as if he had two fleshy balloon wings. A hole in the wall formed, and the clam lurched through it, Tome in tow.

Like a turtle, it gracefully eased itself through the water, towards the surface. A moment later, they breached.

Survived. Good.[i]

There were other factors needing observation, like the several mermen retreating from the Shell Beast, or the Leviathan of a beast soaring away from him, but for now, Tome let out his breath in a howl of celebration. In mimicry, the Clam followed suit.

A terrible howling wail. The windows in the upper levels of the castle shattered instantly. The coral nearby began warping. The retreating mermen that were too close held their ears in pain, but it didn't matter. Blood leaked out of their orifices, and they hit the water like rain.

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SpoilerYd12k has requested replacement.

As Bederick has not been mentioned yet in the story, we're in a unique position to just retcon his character out and put another's in, with the narrative being none the wiser.

I'll give preference to Bigro, Calibornio, and Cat, Red if any of them want to compete in this battle in particular. Secondary preference is given to other battling newbies, although I will give the final spot to someone who I feel will fit the existing mesh of characters well.

If you're keen, prod me on IRC or send a forum PM (with your profile if it's different from what I've already seen). I'll confirm a replacement in the next 48 hours or so.

In the deep, below the Shell Beast's first breach, the remnants of a merfolk tower no longer were. Something else, something alien and Blue, thrummed out and in and through the former debris to the rhythm of a beating heart of crystal. Sari's beacon grew. Intricate weavings of coral unwove into simple hexagons. Delicate mosaics warped and knotted. Strange Blue veins coursed through everything, folding the contours of the world to fit its mathematically-precise arcs and perfect right angles. The stone mirings of the shoal, forced into place by millennia of geological activity, cracked and shifted as their core was struck and churned by this otherworldly infection. They bled gravel into the water.

The very earth groaned. A forking crack in the solid stone, nearly a mile from end to end, shot out from the wound like lightning accompanied by a thunderous pop. A shockwave spread like a ripple in a still pool, and others took note. Sari was not one of them.

From her new position hidden behind this rough tower of coral, Sari held her new gift up to her face. Or rather, she held her arm rather noncommittally up towards the tooth as it floated in front of her. She had emerged into a world and accepted its all-encompassing maelstrom of violence. No sooner had she thought she'd found her place than she'd been approached and rewarded for not fitting in it. There was nuance and purpose in the others' actions that Sari found bewildering. Against a backdrop of visceral carnage, she wanted a moment to study it.

She didn't have time to try, really. An atonal scream that made Sari's head ache blasted from the distance on the opposite side of her concealing pillar. She heard the orange man with green skin bellow some new war cry, followed by the sound of something tearing.

With a wet slap and the ensuing tinkle of coral shards, a merman smashed into the ground a mere twenty feet away from Sari's position. His trident hit the adjacent sand with a solid thunk and embedded itself.

The merman shook his head in pain, then pulled himself up on shaking arms. On spotting Sari, he tensed up and froze. “Clblclk rtchbl hssk!” he demanded of her, authoritatively, looking her up and down.

Sari chimed and approached, slowly, curiously, but stopped a healthy eight feet away. Sensing she wasn't as immediate a threat as his overall situation, the merman turned towards the carnage to the side, hissing and burbling its strange language, inaudible over the din of the battle. Unsatisfied with the lack of response, he reached shakily for his trident, keeping his gaze locked on Sari. Her eyes darted up towards his hand, and then back down to his face. They narrowed.

Sari was not particularly muscular, when discussing the hypothetical bounds of normal for a creature of her gangly shape. That being said, her arms are longer than some people are tall, and the muscle winding its way over the multi-segmented skeleton beneath was apt for the job of propelling that distant mass about with comparative ease. Ease enough that the addition of several more feet of solid metal staff whirling about the pivot point at her shoulder could provide more than sufficient enough force to cave in even a skull evolved to withstand the immense pressures of the deep.

There was a solid clanking sound, followed by a wet gurgle.

Kneeling to pick up something from the red-smeared sand, Sari let out another happy chime. She rose and brought a small object up to her face with a familiar motion. It was followed by Ganger's earlier gift, for comparison. But for the addition of a trailing glob of bloody mess clinging to the new one, she judged them sufficiently similar to be significant. She was on to something! This was important! Sari opened her mouth in a wide smile and sounded out a word. Like the soft tinkle of glass shards, she voiced it.

“Reward!”

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SpoilerAaaand we're back to our full roster! I eventually opted for Cat's character Kaylee Joule, in part because the appearance of a haunted wrecked train engine going unnoticed on a stretch of flat island is a bit of a stretch.

Cat: Welcome aboard! You're free to narrate Kaylee's happenings as if she'd been here from the start, as long as it doesn't contradict with what others have seen/done so far.

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Spoileraaaaaaaa moving sucks and a boyfriend helped me move and broke up with me and training at work and anthrocon and internet getting set up in the new apartment aaaaaaaa

Kay phased back into existence about three meters off the ground. There was no pause for her to consider her options, no opportunity to think about the fact that her body appeared perpindicular to the ground besides close her eyes, nothing she could do to stop the inevitable: she fell. Hard. Her arms extended automatically, attempting to help absorb the impact. Her body still landed with a thud, her breath taken away instantly. The fox rolled onto her back and into a coughing fit, her lungs acclimating rather violently to the air itself. It tasted salty to her.

Air doesn't usually taste salty... in fact, it usually doesn't have a taste. It seems like the beach, but... it doesn't feel like it.

Kaylee's eyes opened to the sight of... a parquet floor? She pushed herself up, swinging her legs around into a sitting position, cross-legged on what she could now tell was the floor of a massive, ornate room. Stained glass windows glowed with an oddly iridescent hue, depicting events entirely unfamiliar to her. Row affter row of furniture that looked almost, but not quite like benches filled most of the room, leaving a space down the middle. Intricately carved columns supported the high celing, leaving very little doubt in what the room was for.

It was a church. Kay threw the thought back and forth in her mind, trying to figure out what sense she could make of the new development. On one hand, it was good news. Wherever she was, there was life. Intelligent life, at that. There might be a way to communicate with them, maybe get back... well, not home, but somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that she could hide away from everything.

Kaylee shook her head to clear it. There was no time for her mind to wander off course right now, if what she had been told was true. So her thoughts turned back to the matter at hand: whoever had built this chapel. They were intelligent, obviously. Peaceful at least amongst themselves. But there wasn't anything she could tell about their feelings towards outsiders. Making contact with them could be a good way to make allies, improve her chances of survival for now... or they could give the others an extremely easy out. There were risks and rewards beyond that, but... it didn't really matter. Those two were the most important possibilities. She scratched at her forehead with a claw before sighing. The risk was too great to try to make contact. Her left paw squeezed her notebook tightly. It seemed like she was alone again. Just like it seemed like she always was... or had been for a while. For a little while she just sat and thought, remaining as quiet as she could for fear of being found. She flipped open her notebook a few times, examining the contents repeatedly. It didn't help but to pass the time... but that didn't deter her from doing it.

------------------------------


Kaylee heard a noise. Though to her, it was much more than simply a noise. It wasn't footsetps. She was certain of that. But whatever it was, it was in motion, and it was moving towards her. Her vision blurred as she spun, eyes flicking back and forth across the room, looking for some form of salvation in this place of worship. Eventually they found a target: a strange-looking rope ladder that extended from the ground to the celing, through a small square opening. There was no way to know what lay beyond it, but there was only thing she did know: being found was a bad idea. So she ran to the as quickly as she could, practically jumping onto it as soon as she could. The climb wasn't easy. It seemed like the ladder was made for someone to use predominantly with arms, and thus most of her strength was compromised. The rungs were unevenly spaced, leading her to the conclusion that it was handmade. She glanced around the room again, at the windows, the pews, the floor. From this height, it was easier to notice that the rows weren't quite even, the windows not quite equal... everything seemed just a little bit off. But there wasn't much time to think. Her attention turned back to the climb, and once she reached the top, she tugged the ladder up after her, hoping that would be enough to save her from any possible pursuers. Feeling around as she got the last remnants of the ladder up, she found what she assumed to be a door of some kind for the opening. The fox flipped it quickly, shutting off any remaining connection to the main room... she hoped.



It was dark. Kay's eyes flittered through the room, but nothing stood out. There was a small patch of light somewhere, but it was faint enough that she still could hardly see the paw in front of her face. A poor situation, to be sure, especially since she was unsure if whoever was moving downstairs would have heard the closing of the door. It had seemed quiet to her, but that didn't mean anything on the other side. She didn't want to make any more noise by tripping over something stupidly, or knocking anything valuable over. So there was really only ever one choice for her, as soon as she'd entered.

Kaylee rubbed a couple of fingers together for a few moments, then slowly pulled them apart. A spark was between them. It seemed to remain still, perched between her fingers. In reality, the electicity was flowing constantly, but since it followed an identical path, there was nothing to differentiate the flow from a stationary object. It threw off a bit of light, thankfully. Not enough to really light up the room, obviously, but at least now she could see her own paws. There was a rope hanging from the celing near her. She stared at it for a moment before shaking her head. It wasn't worth the curiousity. Not now.

The fox moved warily, carefully. It seemed like there was some clutter... but it also seemed a bit like a labyrinth. There weren't walls, per se, but she was definitely in some kind of indentation. It was wider than she was tall, but it was clearly there. It rose to slightly past her stomach, but stopped there. It did create a very easy to follow pathway, and in theory, a pathway should lead to something. So Kay followed it. Eventually she realized where it was leading to: another ladder. This one wasn't made of rope, but it was spaced just as the pervious one had been. She licked a ther lips nervously. She would have to turn off her little flashlight to be able to climb it. And she still had no idea what that previous rope was connected to. She took a few minutes to collect her thoughts... and decided to keep going. It still wasn't worth trying to figure out what everything did. It was entirely possible that it could be an alarm of some sort, and that was not something she needed to deal with.

Kaylee pinched the spark in between her fingers, slowly reabsorbing it into her body. The feeling still made her shiver after all this time; tt still felt unnatural. But it was a power, and it was hers; she had to do what she could with it. It was no use trying to hide it, disguise it, anything like that. It was a part of her now. She shook her head. Her thoughts were beginning to wander again, and there was no way to know if she had time for that. She put her hand on the ladder, shoved her notebook into a pocket on her pants, and began to ascend. The climb was still awkward, the ladder still for someone of a different build. But it was easier as a solid thing, rather than a rope one, that could swing back and forth. The thought crossed her mind, however, that this one couldn't be pulled back up after her. She could be shutting herself into an untenable position... she would have to see. But she could see. Her gaze difted upwards. It seemed like the climb was almost as much as it had been to get from the floor to the first celing. How high was she? And why could she tell that? There was light that reminded her of the light in the chapel, still with a strange hue. At the top of the ladder, she finally realized why:

The whole place was underwater. She could tell, now. There were more stained-glass windows, surrounding a bell... but there was a more 'normal' looking one as well. And there was a fish on the other side of it. The simplicity of the answer to the light question surprised her. Not because of the answer itself.. because of the implications.

I'm underwater. This whole building is underwater. How long has this air been in here? How long have I been in here? How long am I going to be able to breathe down here?

Kaylee's thoughts turned from a quiet, sane analysis to an absolute mess in a snap. There was a time limit. She couldn't stay in here forever. But there was also no way that she could go back down to the main chapel. There was definitely something down there. But the others were almost certainly outside as well. She hadn't seen anyone in here yet, so it was logical to think that they had all ended up in disparate locations. But the air was something that would force them all together. She'd show them. She'd show that thing... the host... she wouldn't have to do anything. She would stay down here until she knew the air couldn't take it anymore. And she would hope that the others would go after each other while she waited. It was a good, solid plan. Her breathing steadied. She brushed the hair from her eyes and allowed herself a smile. It was finally looking as if she had a good handle on things.

That was, of course, the instant the windows shattered.

The fox brought the notebook in front of her face quickly enough to protect her most important parts from the shards, but the rest of her body wasn't as lucky. Quite a few cuts appeared on her body, some of them having also sliced holes in her clothes. Nothing too major was damaged, the cuts weren't very deep. But that wasn't the most important thing. The water was rushing in, past her. It was draining into the space where the ladder was, where she had ascended. Descent was no longer an option. Waiting was no longer an option either. The air was leaving as the water flowed in. There was only one option, and she took it: Kaylee dove through the open window, her notebook clutched in one paw, and swam for the surface.

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Spoileredit: aaaaaaaa tags aaaaaaaa

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Spoileredit2: aaaaaaaa don't think about the phrasing too hard I couldn't figure out how to turn it correctly aaaaaaaa

The first flyer exploded in a violet flash, leaving a mess of thick blue tissues and fibroid viscera pattering down into the water.

Volter St. Kepral executed a neat pirouette, landed on a low shoal, and kicked off into the air toward another with a blasting report of steam. Its skin was rubbery and thick. Pierce, do not slash. Recover. Evade. Adjust. Correct. Brace. Couch. Lock. Thrust. Kill.

With a quaggy squelch, Kepral pulled the gore-flecked hook of his halberd from the creature's bulbous, popping chest. “Marvilla! Gandeera!” he crowed, and kicked off from it, blasting it violently into the waters beneath and corkscrewing himself back into the sky.

“Witness our might!” He reached inside of his mind, to the coiled, martial serpent part of his brain that spat fire, and pulled its shackles away.

Another mercreature burst into brilliant flame. Its rider fell screaming into the chopping surf. Two more joined the conflagration before Volter touched down and kicked off once again. He laughed; a nerve-charged, shrill exclamation born of adrenaline and of force finally, triumphantly directed.


The sapphire tumor growing in Matmor Atoll's heart thrummed in vibratory empathy with the give and take of the tide, sending oscillating lengths of Blue into the deep.

The fissures were widening. The water surrounding the keen-edged prism was bending and shimmering, curling in and condensing and leaving physically impossible pockets of vacuum in its wake. The tiny particulates in the water were condensing with it. The weeping gravel of the Matmor foundations joined them, moving first in swirling eddies and then gradually in a sort of geometrically rigid lockstep, growing straighter and harder and Bluer.

The beacon was building something, and the something was moving.

The hurricane's eye had a name and its name was KRUGRUG and KRUGRUG was SMASHING AGAIN.

The leviathan writhed and bellowed as the berzerker's massive club carved out a swathe of destruction along the surface of its plated hide.

“YES!”
Krugrug smashed the brains of a merman guard out of its ear and stepped into the momentum of his swing with a feral grace that brought him up and over into a leap onto some unfortunate soul's chest and before he had the time to savor the crunch and give of the ribcage the club was pulling him beautifully forward again to crest the creature's glossy eye and blind the beast and hear its howl and ride its pained undulations down, down the bucking spine and into a crowd of them, the squishy crackable breathing things that flinched and fell and SMASHED.

“SMAA ghgkkkk ahem. Hoof.” Kyle tapped his throat a couple of times and coughed. “Bad take. Let me give another. Ahem. He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts. Okay: Three, two... SMMMMAAAAASHH”


Volter landed on the pale strand with practiced elegance and trotted to a halt, his heels kicking up sparks against the earth. There was the blue woman, tall and unfathomable, off the spear and on the shore. “You!” he called. He planted his halberd at the haft and pointed at his quarry. “Turn, creature.”

She did, more with curiosity than conviction, jangling harmonically.

“You know why we're here,” said Volter, “and you know the burden necessity has placed on our shoulders. I understand I'm to kill you, or you're to kill me. But if one's to die, one's to die with their wounds on the front, aye?”

"Reward!"

“What?”

"Reward."

“No reward yet, Tall and Blue.” Volter kicked his halberd up and into readiness. “The quickening first. The duel. I challenge you! Va Molta Gandeera!”


As the Great Leviathan arced and faltered in the air, the Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider rose into it atop the fastest, fleetest Water Spitter in the ranks. He was flanked by his handpicked stalwarts. He was orbited by thrillant spears of hardened coral. His eye was fixed on them. These knobbly, stilted creatures scuttling on the atoll. The brass-coated eyesore with the face like a squid's rear end and the gangly blue bugwoman with the staff. They were making a mockery of his dream and a ruin of his home. The one was making popping, burbling speech at the other and waving its stick around, but as the Shell Rider coursed his way across the chop toward it, it paused, gurgled, turned and backed away from shore, steeling itself for his coming. His fingers tightened around his bident. He would kill these quickly, and then to the lumpy barbarian, and he would make these intruders pay the price for their vandalism.

The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider twirled his bident, leaping from the Leviathan. He could not wait any longer. He would kill the two figures where they stood. They were facing each other and that gave him the perfect chance. Landing on the ground with a silent crunch, he stalked quietly towards them. The Great Leviathan could hold against the vicious muscled beast long enough, that he was sure of.

He would use the time to kill the two, the blue monster first, for she seemed the most dangerous of the two. Of course, the other one could fly and that would pose a problem. While he slowly stalked forward and planned his attack, he never realized that something could be just as stealthy as he could. He felt a sharp slice across his side and whirled around, striking the attacker's weapon with the shaft of his spear. A toothy grin tugged at his thin lips as the weapon stuck into a nearby pillar with a thunk. He would definitely beat this imbecile of an attacker and then he would kill the two. Perhaps they would even soften each other up. Reaching to his back, he yanked a spear from its sheath and stabbed forward, catching his assailant in the face. He thought.

Ganger grabbed the spear with his free hand, breaking it and yanking the head from his mask. He smiled against the wood, this fishman's expression was priceless. How arrogant. He seriously underestimated the people he was up against. Ganger would show him though. One hand gripped a short, katana like sword and the other, which once held his beloved machete, now gripped the splintered wood of the fishman's spear. Who uses wood for underwater combat anyway? Ganger watched silently as his adversary tossed the broken shaft away and reached back to grab another one, only lunging forward when the merman had his spears at ready. Wood clunked against wood and his sword stuck into the other spear. He was going to have fun with this one. He actually knew how to fight.

Tome Jones and his mount tore through dozens of merfolk soldiers as they dashed across the surface of the water, foam spraying into his eyes. They had been trying to dislodge the humanoid from the Shellbeast's back for who knows how long, wanting to keep the beast unharmed for their greatest fighter. Tome only had to point and his loyal friend would crush, splatter, even bite the soldiers in half. Jones was no slacker in battle either, grabbing a soldier that had managed to get close and breaking his neck. He roared, the Shellbeast roaring with him and once again the merfolk tried to shield themselves from the sound, only to cripple under the sonic assault. It stretched on for minutes, both man and beast falling silent once the merfolk were nothing more than bobbing masses on the surface. He spotted another figure on the nearby shore and it was... waving at him. This did not settle with him well. At all.

Doppel waved at the corpse-man. He hoped he would be calm if and when he arrived on shore. He wanted to talk with one of the biggest threats on the atoll. Tom Jones seemed strong, but with the beast of the local's legends and whatnot as his loyal pet, he was equipped to take out a good portion of the contestants. DoppelGanger did not want to be one of those contestants. Perhaps he and Tim could... strike a deal.

One broken spear. Defeating this demon would not be simple, but it would happen.
The moment it broke, The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider dove into the mental abyss. He was in a bubble, from head to toe. Nothing existed beyond it. It wavered at the edges, allowing detail to feed it, and expanded. A shape entered his bubble, and The Three-fringed Destined Shell lashed out with his held spear in a violent, sudden motion, intended to kill.The other eight spears at his back briefly resist his motion, but followed his body.
His weapon was turned, but it didn't matter. He would defeat anything that entered his bubble.



Clash, clash, clash.
Ganger smiled outwardly, but he felt mild irritation as he rapidly swung his blade side to side. A blade wasn't suited for combating spears. Usually it was a non-issue, but this fish was skilled and powerful. Graceful too, even though it had that ridiculous fan of spears sticking out of its back. Somehow, they barely slowed the merman down. Even the merman's aura of arrogance was gone. There was just emptiness.
Gritting his teeth behind his smile, he pushed himself forward through the rain of spear blows.
Clash, clash, clash.



The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider slipped his hands closer to the center of his spear with each exchange, shortening the distance between the combatants and accelerating his spear motions. Suddenly, he pulled his spearhead back, forcing Ganger to miss his expected parry. The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider threw out the butt of his spear in the same motion, catching the end of Ganger's parrying motion, knocking his weapon free.
The blade spun above The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider's head as he thrust again with the spear, aiming for a fatal blow. Then, Ganger disappeared from in front of him, leaving his spear to pierce air. The beginnings of confusion attempted to reach him, but they were warded off by his bubble. An instant later, The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider realized that Ganger's missing presence had moved above him, grabbing the free blade.
Knowing his opponent's new location, The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider simply turned to thrust in the new direction.


Clash, clash, clash.
What is up with this guy? Ganger thought, noticing no surprise in the merman in the face of his teleportation.
He was back where he started in this fight- at an unsure stalemate. He was beginning to doubt he'd be able to win like this. He quickly leaped backwards, giving him the breathing room to think of a new plan.
Then, his hearing was momentarily overwhelmed by sound. He winced. It was the screaming clam again. He really hoped his better half would be able rear the thing under some degree of control.


The scream! My friend! It must be crying for me! What have these demons done?
Even The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider's trained focus was wavering. The edges of his bubble shook unsteadily, and he knew his fighting abilities would inevitably fall.
Yet, he needed to finish this quickly, and fly to his destined friend's aid. It was time to use more than his martial talent.

One of his Adjuncts flew by, riding a piece of coral resembling a stingray.
"The situation is troubling, sir! Scores of our people are dead! Do you require assistance?" He yelled down to The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider.

"No need!" The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider replied in a commanding tone. "I will move independently! Follow the Redfin's commands, and settle this matter!"

The Adjunct nodded and flew off, and The Three-fringed Destined Shell Rider faced his opponent.

"DEMON!" He bellowed. "YOUR SKILLS ARE ADMIRABLE, BUT YOU MUST BE PURGED IMMEDIATELY! PREPARE YOURSELF!"


Ganger blinked. The merman was yelling some nonsensical gibberish.

Ignoring that, he realized the merman's emptiness was gone.
Finally, an opening!
He dashed in, then circled to the left as a spear was thrown towards his head.
"Throwing your weapons now? Ha, desperate aren't you?" Ganger taunted. "You must-" he stopped, noticing the fan of spears along the merman's back moving. Seven crystalline tendrils burst from the back of the merman's armor, each wielding a spear.
Ganger smiled grimly while backing away. It may be time for a retreat.


Tome Jones was silent, wary, staring at the being at the shore. This one gave off a more dangerous scent. A heavy, bloody smell exuded from its clothes.
However, it didn't seem to want to fight. The Shell Beast glided into the shore, and Tome Jones bounded from the top of it, hissing at it for it to stay calm. He landed a fair distance from the figure, and gazed cautiously at it.


Doppel slowly put down his hands. Thankfully, it looked like Tom Jones could be reasoned with.

"Hello! Thanks for stopping. I've got a little preposition for you." Doppel said, gesturing smoothly, using his hands to help convey his message. "How about you and me partner up for a bit?"

Doppel looked to Tom for a response, and received none. Instead, the deadman began slowly circling him animalistically. Ignoring the strange behavior, Doppel continued.

"You have a lot of power right now, right? Think of that power as currency. You can buy my allegiance. I promise you, deals with me are good. I would never take back my word first."

Doppel smiled his best reassuring smile.



Tome Jones heard nothing. The strange man just seemed to be moving his mouth. Instinct told him that he had disabled his hearing to repair it. For the moment, he could hear nothing. Tome sensed that he'd be better off that way, subconsciously evaluating his follower's deadly screams.

Now that he was closer to the man, Tome began to bristle. Beyond the smell of blood, there was something unknown- unknown, and therefore dangerous. Tome wanted to back away. He wanted nothing to do with this thing. Instinct told him to leave.

Beneath even instinct, he wanted to kill.

The corners of Tome's mouth curled into a sickeningly wide and curved smile. He screamed at the figure. Moments later, the Shell Beast followed suit.

"CRASH!" "BASH!" "TRASH-A-FRASH!"

...Frash?

Okay, Kyle thought, a bit of a stretch, but I'd like to see the poet that can find twenty new rhymes for that an episode. It was getting to the point where he'd put about fifteen straight minutes of screaming into the microphone anyway, what wouldn't be swapped with another analogous outburst would just as easily pass by the editors and the fans alike.

He scooted his chair away from the microphone far enough for an impromptu break. The higher ups didn't seem to give a flying fuck over checking the actual content of the show but damn if they wouldn't get on your ass for taking a break from making it. They were perfectly willing to spend a chunk of their budget programming the computer to tattle anytime the pause button was hit while you were on their time. So the microphone stayed on and Kyle calmly attempted to knock back the remainder of his coffee in one gulp…

When one of the writers burst into the room, ramming the corner of the door into his chair and causing him to choke loudly

---

Krugrug peeled off a bit of flesh, bone, or whatever the blood soaked scrap of merman was that was stuck to his club. The leviathan he’d been facing off with fled either due to fear of his might or the fact that its riders were turned to putty and it had little interest in the battle. Oh well, Krugrug thought. More would come and he would easily frash them all.

Then all of a sudden, the air became caught in Krugrug’s throat. The great orc suddenly became helpless, choking on seemingly nothing at all. His knees landed hard in the sand, he doubled over and struggled on the edge of the sea to keep his head out of the water. His eyes grew wide as he thought that this stumble could give some beastie their chance to end him.

---

“Milosh, what the hell!?”

Kyle turned to face the balding bastard whose head was now poking his head into the room. Milosh was one of the head writers, an eastern-European bloke it seemed. Unlike most of the other writers, he hadn’t gotten to study booze and pornography in American college, but luckily he was a quick study.

“Sorry about that, man. Didn’t know you were in here, even.”

“Did the bright-red, glowing ‘RECORDING’ sign not give you a clue?” Kyle said, gesturing towards the little box hanging above his door.

Milosh took a slight peek and said “I think the batteries are dead.”

Awesome, more broken shit, Kyle grumbled to himself.

“Anyway,” Milosh continued, “you should come to the writer’s room. Brian’s birthday is today, there are donuts and beer dropped off from his wife.”

Kyle stared at him unimpressed. “You just want to show off your latest waste of time, don’t you?”

“We have house of cards big enough to hold up Richard’s laptop!”

“Fascinating. I have to get back to recording though.”

Milosh noticed at the obvious distance between him and the microphone.

Kyle held up finger quotes. “’Recording’. The same way I’m sure you need to get back to ‘writing’ with the rest of the crew.”

Milosh shrugged and acceptingly went back to his side of the hallway while Kyle went to see how much of his spasm made it onto the record.

---

A small party of medics darted along the atoll, combing land and sea for survivors. Behind them trailed a pair of containers, one already half-filled with the injured. The bodies they examined ranged from peacefully floating just under the surface to bruised and contorted messes…and then there were the even less fortunate with their limbs drifting slowly from the pulpy messes of their torsos. But the party silently passed over these souls turned into nothing but nauseous gore.

The bodies grew thick around a small sandbar to the south. The party could hear the sounds of struggling, an individual gasping loudly for air. The Medical Squad Chemicalist took out a series of vials, discouraged more than anything by the sounds of an injured soldier. If his body was intact and capable of the trip, he’d get some muscle relaxant and a trip to salvation. If his lung were punctured and torn…the Chemicalist climbed up onto the island, thinking sour thoughts and reaching for another lethal injection.

The party navigated their way to the top of the hill of sand and immediately scuttled back behind it, dropping prone. Their hearts raced as they peered over the mound, staring at the monstrosity that had caused more destruction than had ever been seen by their people. They looked at each other with certainty in their eyes. They were going to die. They, practitioners of medicine were never made to feel expendable like the soldiers, never trained out of their cowardice. The Chemicalist took a brave enough glance to see the beast in full view. It wasn’t calm, but it wasn’t raging anymore. It was like it was…sick. Like it had been the one violently without air…

The Chemicalist stood up, to the complete surprise of his brothers. They grasped at his ankles, trying to restrain him, but he shook them off, determined. They clutched the rim of the sandy hill as their brother resolutely walked up to the intruder, who held himself unsteadily off the ground, still retching loudly. Now, sure of his superiority over the murderous cur, he kicked it square in the side, surprising the now-helpless orc and knocking him to his back. The Chemicalist grabbed a fateful vial from his side-pouch and readied it. He glared, stalwartly at his enemy. Krugrug stared back, immobilized from shock and fear and lack of air. The Chemicalist brought his fist to the monster’s chest. It was cold with dry sea water. Shivering even. The merman stopped and looked down again at the creature at his feet, this time as an animal, rather than a beast. It had the fear of death in its eyes, the one he saw not seconds ago in his brother’s. It was meek. It sought mercy. It needed help.

The medics sat safe behind the sand, watching their brother empty a vial into the barbarian’s mouth. They gathered around their brother with silent elation before he pushed them away. “It’s unconscious. Prepare the pressurized transport.”

He walked to the trailers floating in the water. “This things coming with us, to the infirmary.”

Sari couldn't quite parse all of Volter's words, but she did get the gist of it. She knew that this was the one who had done something strange and bright and painful earlier, but pain wasn't inherently bad, and causing it wasn't indicative of malice. After all, he seemed trustworthy enough. There was surely some higher purpose in this.

"Duel," Sari parroted, nodding her head.

"That's the spirit I like to - woah!" Volter made a panicked leap to one side to dodge the trident flung at him so unceremoniously by his new sparring partner. She'd swept the crude thing up and sent it flying without a moment of braggadocio--he didn't even know for what glory she fought, what strange shores she called home, what reward she sought to gain. "That's not how you do it!" he shouted, feeling the heat rise in his face. Did she just enjoy watching him panic? The uncertainty was stalking in again. "Where I come from, you don't skip the foreplay!" Volter rooted his feet in the sand and let loose a deadly volley of psionic energy.

Sari may not have experienced much in her few minutes of awareness, but this attack was something she was now familiar with. She crouched and leapt, bright flashes crackling in the sand below her. Volter had anticipated this. In the split second after her leap, he'd judged her trajectory and flung himself willfully through the sky to intercept it, halberd pulled back like a coiled snake anticipating a strike.

Except, he didn't intercept. This slick cerulean aberration was so alien to this world that it seemed to have little interest in pulling her any closer. Rather than arcing back down to the ground as gravity would seem to dictate, she simply turned in midair and bobbed in a different direction. Volter, having no such scorn for the world's embrace, sailed past his intended target and tumbled on the cracking shoal.

Volter turned his unexpected tumble into an artful roll over one shoulder, landing with a heavy clank on his seven-league boots and skidding to a stop. His heel tore into the shattered coral and flung a cloud of calcified detritus billowing into the air behind him. He'd missed, yes, but he made it look good. That was the measure of a seasoned warrior. Twice, this malformed creature had made him look like a green recruit simply by being odd, not by any skill. Well, it wouldn't happen again. His boots fired and he took to the air once more.

Sari's heart beat excitedly. This was exhilarating! She didn't know what she was doing, but she was doing something and it seemed to matter and that was all that counted. Her new friend sailed into the air once more, firing more of the glowing bolts. She pushed herself solidly to one side, only to realize too late that the bolts were not focused on her location, but rather raining down everywhere around her. She leapt frantically, but too late. A sizzling ball of energy erupted on her position with a deafening crack. Sari was slammed down into the ground, rebounding against a strange blue light.

Volter hit the center of the erupting crater he'd made in the sand just in time for the last wisps of energy to dissipate. Eyes locked on his mark, he swung his explosive-tipped halberd in an arc he judged most likely to catch any attempted escape routes. "Finia Victa Gandeera!" he cried. The ordinance detonated in a bright flash that erupted with blue sparks. There was the sound of glass shattering as Sari, her staff, her mask, and her two teeth were flung separately across the beach, no longer bound by whatever strange force had anchored them to her person before.

Sari's gangly limbs flailed with the force of her uncontrolled plummet into the beach. She hit the ground once and bounced, unable to right herself in the air like she could moments ago. She hit the ground a second time and blacked out for just a second, coming to as she finally stopped in a cloud of sand near the shore. She coughed reflexively as the grainy crystals entered her mouth, pushing herself away from the stuff as well as she could. Searing pain shot up her right arm. She was shocked to find one of her fingers was twisted back and would not bend. Thick blue fluid welled up from tears in her arm and face, and there was a persistent, deep pain in her back and head. Was this what was supposed to happen? Did she do it right? She pulled the tangled mess of blue hair, now failing to float elegantly out of her field of vision, away from her face. She looked up with a pained expression at the man who had just put her through this.

Her heart dropped. He did not look happy either. She had done it wrong. She had gone through all of that, and she had still done it wrong. Why was this so complicated? Why did everyone else seem to understand what to do? But most importantly, why didn't she? The scuttling fishmen approaching her position on the beach seemed confident enough in their actions. Laying there prone on the beach, she suddenly recalled the one of the fishmen's compatriots she had attacked earlier. They were approaching her like she had approached him. They were going to leave her there on the beach with her head spilling open like she had done to him.

Panic overtook Sari. She shook her head. Her good hand shot up to her mouth and grabbed one of her front teeth. She jerked and pulled and twisted desperately. Bone snapped. Her eyes welled up and she winced, but she didn't cry out. Extracting her own tooth and shaking it at the approaching warriors, she called out, "No duel. No duel!" Sari nodded and held the tooth in shaking hand, directing it at each of them in turn. "Reward! Take reward." Her eyes widened and she turned to Volter, an expression of dumbfounded shock on his face. "Reward! Please take reward?"

Reservation for 1, please.

it's been 3 weeks, I'm running over your reserve in like a day

Kyle shook his head. No, it didn't really make sense for Krugrug to be rescued so easily. All of the watchers would probably be knocked out of their suspension of disbelief. Well, whatever, his only job was following the script.

"Wait, why are we bringing that monster in? We should kill it right now!" One of the Chemist's brothers exclaimed. The rest bustled in agreement.

"Oh, alright this makes more sense," Kyle thought.

"We can't just kill it! Look at it! It's injured, and needs help! We're medics! We help all who are injured, even if they are the enemy!" The Chemist responded.

The brothers went silent for a moment in contemplation.
"...fine, brother." The one who spoke earlier agreed. "But we won't do this like idiots. This monster will kill us if it wakes up free. And after we stabilize its condition, It will be brought to trial."

"...Yes, of course." The Chemist replied.

Four brothers wove a platform out of the coral ground, three times thicker than the normal transport. Carefully, they lifted Krugrug onto the platform.

"We'll bind everything." The brother said.
"Isn't that too much? No one can recover in that amount of restraint!" The Chemist rebuked.
"Pardon me if I value my own life a bit higher than some monster's." The brother replied with a scoff. The other brothers nodded in agreement.

All together, they wove coral wires in a crisscross around every limb, every finger, every digit of Krugrug. Afterwards, they wove a dome to seal Krugrug in.

Krugrug slept soundly as they dragged him into the water.



Doppel was confused by Tome's bizarre screaming for a moment. The Such guttural sounds were unsuited for a person dressed so well. Then, he realized what was about to happen.

Show Content

SpoilerI can't write more, since I don't really know how doppelganger teleports

It's been almost two months, is anyone still present or is this thing officially dead?

Show Content

SpoilerI'm still here. I'd still like to post. I don't really want to post here since I was post before last, though.

I exitss but I posted even more recent

can we start killing people

It's not officially dead; however here's what I'm seeing.

MyW, Elize, and MeltingBard show some inclination to want to keep writing for this, but don't know how to incorporate the characters for whom we've had little-to-no exposition of their abilities/personalities.

Cat, Kiven, and Brom are awol or have otherwise not given me an indication that they're having the same dilemma.

So, here's the plan. Everybody has one week to make a post. Any post. I don't care if it's a single paragraph explaining where your character's at right now, you make that and you're no longer a valid target for SUDDEN DEATH.

After the week's up, anyone who hasn't posted (including MyW, Elize, and Brom) gives unspoken agreement for the others to abuse/miuse/mischaracterise their character as the Not-No-Shows see fit. This is up to and including killing them. As soon as someone dies, the round ends and we'll move onto Round 2. Any No Shows who survive this initial trial by fire will have to take anything that happened in Round 1 without their permission as canon, if you bother posting at all before I declare another SUDDEN DEATH.

Any questions? Get to it.