Lurcolm's Misc Writings

Lurcolm

Resident Biopunk Enthusiast
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
  3. One post per week
  4. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Prestige
  5. Douche
  6. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
  2. No Preferences
Genres
Fantasy, magical, medieval, scifi, romance and action!

ALL THE -PUNK GENRES
Just some random snippets of writing I'm doing. It doesn't really have anything specific, so I'm just plunking them all in one spot

The first of many:

Tyrog had never planned on failure.

Yet, as he gazed upon his homeworld, he saw only that.

His beloved homeworld was burning. Lead, silver, plasma, and lasers flung from one side, and his people returned with what meager volume of bone spikes, acid and miniature beasts they could still fire before they, too, fell to the superior firepower.

Dragon, a general that had distinguished himself in the many successful campaigns when the war had started, was keeping Tyrog company as he watched his world burn, break and ultimately topple to ruin.

"What do I have now, General?"

"Pardon, Emperor?" Dragon asked, bowing his head respectfully as the last of the Tyrogians troops rallied a last stand at Tyrog's Palace.

"I had an empire. I built my entire life on that empire. I never sired an heir. I never gained true love. I never did anything meaningful, but to fight our enemies. Enemies that enticed me to make my empire, to begin with."

Tyrog turned to his only company as artillery shells blasted holes in his ranks. They wouldn't shoot the big guns in the palace. They wanted Tyrog alive. To prove that even he was mortal. That he would eventually face a "fair" trial in the hands of the Unifiers and would be made an example of.

"You have... Me." General Dragon stated. The hulking mass of muscle wrapped around impenetrable green scales. His red eyes gleaming in the Tyrogian Empire's last sunset shining through the reinforced windows.

Tyrog gave a slow nod "What a terrible fate, to die alone. At least I'm spared of that. "

Dragon gave a silent nod

"Maybe it's a good thing Elizabeth left me. Now she wouldn't die with me. She has a son now, according to my intelligence. Something to distract her from the long years of immortality.

Another silent nod from the larger creature.

A cheer rang up from the palace's gates.

The last loyalist Tyrogian force was eliminated.

Dragon stood ready to fight, to die as the troops levelled their rifles at his Emperor. Tyrog silenced such thoughts by putting his hand on the general's shoulder.

"No. There has been enough death today. We surrender."

Dragon didn't argue. He looked rather relieved, in fact.

A deep breath came from Tyrog, then he slowly exhaled.

* * *​

Captian Ian Briggs blinked in surprise as two huge figures strode out the Palace's front door. One was Emperor Tyrog: An eight foot ant creature with deep, bioluminescent blue eyes. The next was an even bigger creature: Twelve foot of muscle and reptile scales. It looked like a dragon.

"I am Emperor Tyrog." Ian's target stated "I witnessed the rise and fall of my empire, and I am tired. I offer no resistance with my surrender. You took everything from me. What else is there for me to fight for?"
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Another thing! Based on my The Fall of Emperor Tyrog

Emperor Tyrog stood proudly and patiently as the soldiers in front of him readied their weapons. He took his public execution by firing squad with integrity. Never once showing how painful their bullets were as they ran through his pale white, arthropoid flesh.

They had already dissolved his chitin platings with acid.

Another scene, far more outlandish. Martin chasty stood tall and composed as he pleaded, "Please. I don't want to forget about her. Even if she hated me for what I've done, I still remember when it was still
good . I want to remember my skills in making life. I want to use it, too."

* * *​

Micheal Lynwood woke up with a groan. That's the sixth time he's had that dream in the span of a month. Even though the exact details were foggy, it was so intense that he didn't even sleep that long. As if the intensity of the dream boosted his sleep to such a degree that he only needed six, or sometimes just four, hours of sleep and felt like he'd slept nine.

Then again, with the war going on right now, it shouldn't be all that strange to have strange dreams. Micheal figured it was some sort of strange psychological side effect of feeling stress before bed. He's had a few dreams he could pin to undercurring things that stressed him.

Not with the new one, though. He's never been able to figure what caused that one. Sometimes he even thought it was real, even waking up with tears in his eyes due to the emotional stress.

Slowly, the buzzing of his Myrmiddons' beehives stirred him awake. The seven foot arhtropoids looked emptily at their charge. The beehives attached to their backs bringing in honey to sustain themselves along with spiders that fatten themselves as much as possible on prey, then letting themselves be devoured for sustenence.

Most of the time, you didn't even need to feed them.

All of them were staring eternally towards a young man, Hunter as they call themselves, without any eyebrows and eyes as pitch black as his hair. His scleras were black as well. He was infinitely creepy. It seemed to be picked up on the Myrmiddons as well. They didn't much like to go near him.

His amused smile didn't help.

"What're you grinning about, Hunter?"

The Hunter smiled, then gave a shrug "I'm tied up by silk rope."

"And?" Micheal inquired against his better judgement. The man was creepy. You could see that he also knew he was creepy, and enjoyed it immensely.

He gained a more foreboding smile as he spoke in that slow, horror story voice "I find it.... ironic"

"Sure you do, you fucking creep." Micheal shook his head at the Hunter's words. His four Myrmiddons sat silently, three out of four sets of four eyes focused on their prisoner. The fourth was stationed as a lookout outside the ruined store. Hidden and scanning the ruins of the city the Hunters and Unifiers decided would be their little battleground.

Though little wouldn't be the right world. It's been a year and they're still fighting one battle. They're just flinging hordes of themselves against the other. The unifiers had more numbers and more Deadtech, but the Hunters were, for lack of any better term, fucking badasses.

Second Eden Biotechnologies took the neither side in the conflict, declaring war on both parties for ruining their assets. The Hunters and Unifiers decided to start their fight smack dab in the middle of one of their cities.

He slowly exhaled. He was huddled behind what looked like a small grocery store before the Outsider War, as people called it, started. They were huddled in the far corner with the fridges that stopped working, but at the drinks section since the dairy and meat sections stink to high heaven. They moved the many shelves as a sort of cover between them and the glass walls. The place was the biggest store in a small shopping centre.

Both sides were very persistent on peace. The Biocorps tended to side with the Hunters, while the Robotic Industries tended to the the side of the Unifiers. It made sense, considering that the Hunters were seen as a more "alive" group, rather than the Deadtech of the Unifiers. Besides, they were already at war in that concept. Just a far cleaner shadow war. You didn't nearly waste so many resources.

The Board had ordered Micheal to the battlefront to oversea their Crafted Ecosystems that supported their own battle troops. Not like he could do anything, considering how utterly outmatched they were compared to the two factions. Even so, no corp backed down. They'd lose face so fast, they'd become sockpuppets.

"Are you going to kill me?" The freak asked, putting far to much emphasis on the word 'kill'.

Micheal slowly exhaled "If I wanted to, I would have."

"Then what do you want?" He asked again, sending a creepy shiver up Micheal's spine.

"I want to join you people." Micheal stated bluntly. He's been rooting for the Hunters since the Outsider War started. He could never figure out why though. Most people just said "Well they're not Deadtech" or some shit like that.

For Micheal though... it wasn't really something like that. He felt some sort of connection.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"I... I don't know."

The freaky little fuck's smile widened immensely, way to wide for any normal thing to do "Really now? Is it an urge inside yourself? One you cannot explain, but must follow? Are the voices in your head yearning for the aid o-"

"Could you shut the fuck up? Please?" Micheal asked as angrily as he was desperate to staple that too big mouth shut.

The freak's too-wide smile only went to his eyes, widening up to golfballs

"Why capture me, then?"

Micheal shrugged "I didn't feel like approaching your base without any sort of insurance would be a good idea. I promise you, though, that I'm really not planning on killing you."

Micheal casually pulled out a revolver he pulled off of a dead Unifier. The thing had six silver rounds left. More than enough to kill a single Hunter if you shoot for the brain.

At the sight of it, the Freak hissed angrily. His eyes narrowed as he tried to scoot further away from Micheal.

"Relax. Relax. I'm unloading it, see?" Micheal tried to calm the Hunter down, pulling out the cyllinder and emptying the bullets on the dirt "I'm still going to put this to your head, but no bullets. I can't even misfire."

The Freak relaxed, taking a small exhale as he scooted back. The Myrmiddons stepped away from the Freak, matching increased the distance they now had from him, but never dared to step to their former proximity.

It takes a lot to freak a Myrmiddon out, which makes the fact that the Hunter was succeeding all the more unsettling.

"Alright then. Your base is two blocks from here, so we can just walk towards it."

"Two blocks, you say? Don't bother then." The Hunter purred as he looked in Micheal's general direction.

The bioengineer frowned. "Why?"

"They've already found you."

A thunk sounded behind Micheal, and he slowly turned to find...

"Well fuck.""

A Hunter unceremoniously dropping the corpse of his fourth Myrmiddon. The three remaining troops turned around to charge at the Hunter, but a single flat note whistled out of Micheal's mouth stopped them dead in their tracks.

He sighed, then played three more notes, a quick, slow-quick one, and the Myrmiddons followed him without acknowledging the new threat. They wouldn't acknowledge any threat, for that matter, until he played the notes that said otherwise.

Micheal tossed the revolver and got up. Dusting his ruined labcoat quickly, he held up his hands in surrender.

He couldn't help but smirk as he said "Take me to your leader. I'm a valuable asset. If you don't kill me, of course."

* * *​

Micheal took a small bow of his head as he recited his story to the councilman in private. Elizabeth Leauge would instantly recognise the mess of brown hair with those deep socketed, tired brown eyes.

Martin Chasty was back from the dead, as a cynnical bioengineer. He didn't have any of his normal dramatics about him, but a cold intellect and preference to living things.

Nikolai had declared that he vouched for the man, in case he could have a say about it, in Micheal's trustworthiness. The Hunter accenting his unnerving mannerisms as much as possible while doing it. One still had to compare the stories between eachother, howeverm to check validity.

"So I don't exactly know you, Councilman," Micheal stated, revealing that he knew she was a councilman without ever having been told the fact, "But you can trust my legitimacy. If you give me a biotechnology lab, I'll produce an army for you. Living siege engines. Artillery that grow their own ammo. I might just be able to cook up a plague that only affects the Unifiers, or maybe a bacteria that only helps Hunters"

He gave a shrug "I'm not God though, as much as I try to be."

He gave a small sigh as he shifted his weight from one side to the other "Could I uhh... Could I just ask that you keep the freaky black eyed fucker away from me? He's creepy."

Micheal gave a small shrug "Or kill me. Honestly at this point I don't have a whole lot to go back to, since I'm pretty much fired from my job, doing this little stunt."
 
Based off of The Mood is Write's Ribbons and Rain

"Team Alpha-Twelve. Team Alpha-Twelve. Respond."

"What is it, Command?"

"Move to sector 6. Thermals show Hunter forces moving there, in a flanking manoeuvre."

"Roger that. Movi- OH MY GOD"

"Alpha-Twelve? What is it, Alpha-Twelve?"

"THERE'S SO MANY OF THEM. SHOOT! SHOOT!... OH SHI-"

"Alpha-Twelve? Alpha-Twelve, please respond."

The operator cursed slightly under her breath, before opening communication to all channels "All units. Be aware that a myster-"

"What is a monster? "

The operator went silent at the new voice. A quick glance showed that it was coming from Alpha-Twelve's radio. She started tracking the position by satellite, curious to see who was at the other end of it.

It was broadcasting to all channels as well.

"Is it a thing that looks scary? Or is it a thing that has done evil? Does it need a reason to be one, or is it just senseless slaughter?"

"Command! This is Delta-Four! Reporting a massive amount of hostiles coming from the south! They don't seem to be from the H- OH GOD THEY'RE FLANKING US."

"Delta-Four. Delta-Four please respond."

"I used to be a mortal, but then I changed. I did something even I myself didn't understand. I managed to drag back some of my old strength and empowered it with the new one I have already."

The operator found the position and...

"Oh my God."

The thermals didn't show a singular person. It showed a massive amount of lifeforms, standing there emptily. The operator could hear the others in her station trying to figure out what's going on. The strategic map on the far wall only showed more grim news.

The Unifier forces were surrounded by... hundreds of thousands of lifeforms. Attacking them opposite from the Hunters.

The Unifiers teleported their troops back out. The Hunter forces that ran into the mysterious lifeforms turned around and retreated.

What were those things? A lot of them were humanoid, but a lot of them were not. They didn't have any uniform shape to them.

The mysterious voice kept going: " I suppose I could've avoided this. Or rather, you Unifiers could. I had many faces until now, but never have I donned a mask I could not take off after. That changed a week ago. That changed with the sealing of Councilman Elizabeth Leauge. A sealing I could not prevent, nor undo. It changed with the butcher and burning of my drug. My Princess Rare, whom I could not bring back. In trying to reverse what you have done, I have become something that should not be."

"You Unifiers are too good for your own longevity. If I made any progress in undoing your ribbons, in defying the Reapers for the second time, I would not have broken my soul in the progress. Not even the Reapers want me now. I am lost.

Suddenly, the entire mass of bodies vanished.

The Enemy Alert started to sound in the ship. The Operator had just enough time to turn around and choke at the sight before her.

Hundred of... things stood in the centre of the bridge. Their bodies sporting steel, flesh, bone, teeth, and brass. It grew out of them like cancer, eating at their forms as their hollow eyes stared at the shocked staff. Someone tried to shoot them but was only rewarded by the sound of sizzling flesh before the creature he shot teleported in front of him and started tearing him limb from limb.

Wherever the bodyparts fell, they started to grow. Steel and bone and teeth sprouted out of nothing. Forming some incomprehensible monstrosity that teleported to its next victim.

All of the bodies spoke in unison. With the same voice.

"If you could have just left us alone. If you could have just let me live in peace. Maybe. Maybe I would not have lost so much. I damned myself to kill you. I hope you appreciate the measures I had to take."

And all at once, the Bridge was killed and converted into the Damned Legion.

* * *​

Nikolai Gevra was a very creepy sort. Especially after he got blasted with a flamethrower that had some sort of silver inside its napalm.

Even with his new deformities, didn't have anything on the silent bodies staring at the remainder of the council.

Honestly, it made him jealous.

" I have destroyed the Unifiers, but I have not touched their final nook. I wished to have spoken to you personally before I did so. Out of a sense of loyalty to the fallen, the Unifiers die today. " The Damned Legion declared.

"What will you do after that?" A Councilman asked.

The entire Legion gave a shrug. A uniform, unnerving gesture. "I don't know."

And just like that, the Legion was gone. Off the eliminate the last of the Unifiers.

Nobody even knew why.

Listening to the Legion always set something in Nikolai's brain into overdrive. It's as if the Legion's presence was doing something wrong, just by existing. Their voices never sounded like they're even supposed to be possible.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Based on the above story: Nothing to Lose

The world, the Legion found himself in was pretty, once.

Once.

Now it was a wasteland. A graveyard of blighted flesh and steel resulting from the very world's people.

Former people, rather.

The Legion was not a unique monster. In his attempts to heal his beloved Elizabeth and bring Rare back, he had tapped into something. Something that should never have been touched in the first place.

This world's former people had done the same. Whether it was fanaticism or the recklessness of progress, the Legion did not know.

Regardless, this world built its pyres, pulsing with the same blighted rust as the Legion had. There were other colours as well. The most prominent was a rotten purple.

The world itself was stationed at the very edge of their universe. As their solar cycle went by, one season was wholly deprived of stars in the night. Just that great, black void. A window to a place where things existed beyond human reason or logic. Things the Legion had tapped into and paid the price.

And this world's people called one over.

The Nameless Thing quickly devoured the world, turning it into purple wastes of steel and flesh. It would've moved to the next one and the next. It would not have stopped if it was not for the Legion.

Most of the Legion had been destroyed in the battle, as was the solar system the Creature inhabited. The planet itself had been shattered and broken, chunks of its crust floating to greet the now dead sun slowly spreading out into a nebula as its gravitational pull was voided.

The Legion took a small glance at the mass of death surrounding him. Flesh and steel intermingled, as did the hues of purple and rust. Nothing was left alive in this solar system. Nothing except the Legion.

The Legion was not sad, however. In fact, he was happy. Through his actions, he had spared the rest of the Universe from whatever machinations the Nameless Thing had. The Legion had finally done something good. He couldn't even remember since last he's done that.

Silently, he slipped away. Back into the cold void between universes. Back to his home of cold, dark void and oblivion. Where nothing, not even his kin inhabiting the lightless realm alongside him, could find him.

Back to his den, waiting for another horror only he could face.

Back to his Watch, protecting Beryl from things that should never be, but exist nontheless.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
I present to you more stuff based on my new character: The Damned Legion!

Nobody knew what had happened on Planet Bera.

The space fleet vessel that responded to a distress signal only found a broken planet and floating in a nebula, with corpses to make a whole other world filling the remains of Bera's surface.

It made the scientists orgasmic as they tried to figure out the new puzzle laid out before them. They quickly determined it was due to a wormhole generator prototype that had malfunctioned, and the tissue samples of the two creatures (Labelled Rust Cthulu and Purple Cthulu) were examined.

A technology was developed to pick up the signatures of these creatures. They were given a formal name and classification: Outsiders.

Research started to slow as no new material could be procured. It was easy enough to figure out where they dwell, in the cosmic void between universes, but everything they sent out there simply never returned.

Talk began to rise up, advocating the authorization of a new wormhole generator, one identical to the one that had called them, to begin with. They were promptly silenced.

But Fate had other plans: A survey in a border system showed a massive Outsider signature in the core of a colony world. Nobody could explain why it was there, but researchers flocked towards it like flies to honey.

* * *​

The beeping of the alarm drowned constantly as the small female in a lab coat worked tirelessly on the computer in front of her. A small wormhole device lay in the testing chamber, silently observing the lab as explosions roared somewhere far off.

The banging on the steel door sounded equally far off. As did the unnatural screams and chanting that gave the girl a headache every time she tried to understand their words.

"Come on come on come on." The women muttered frantically before the device in the testing chamber whirred to life.

She glanced at the thing as it made a hole into the deep dark void everyone had said never to open to again.

"Oh my God..."

The light from the testing chambers shone through the portal. The photons bounced off countless of bodies, warped by tainted flesh and bone. Growths sprouted from every angle as rusted, sickly gears turned and whirred inside them.

All of their glowing rust eyes were staring right back at her. Even through the glass, they could see her.

She fought hard not to piss herself.

The screaming behind the reinforced door intensified. The strange language of the creatures making whatever was looking at her through the portal to perk up.

All of them. Simultaneously.

Suddenly, the portal closed.

"No! No no no!" The scientist screamed as errors started blaring at the computer.

The screaming behind the door stopped.

The girl looked up from the computer and looked at the silent steel wall that had protected her. Her head quickly angled back to her computer, switching to the security footage outside her room.

Blood.

Blood and green filled the hallways, but the warped horrors that used to be colonists were no longer moving. Something that proved that bullets and bombs only pissed it off, laid dead on the floor.

Standing above them was a body that looked like the things she saw through the portal, quietly observing the creatures as their green taint spread in thick veins like borrowing worms across the floor.

Suddenly, one appeared next to her.

" What happened here?" Demanded a voice that didn't quite sound right. It sounded like it had a quality the women couldn't even comprehend. She was so shocked by it all, she couldn't even think of a response.

"No matter." The creature stated idly, before vanishing.

With no more strength left inside her, the girl silently fell to her knees and shook violently as she cried.

* * *​
The last group of resistance couldn't do shit against the thing they had awoken. Even with their tests and measures to ensure that the Outsider wouldn't awaken from its slumber, some ambitious scientist pushed their study of the creature too far.

Bullets didn't seem to hurt it as some sickly green power seeped into the flesh of those closest to it. The victims were quickly corrupted by the cosmic energies, warping into some grotesque horror that killed and converted more.

The last survivors had barricaded themselves in the barracks and had an amazing view of the horrors through bulletproof glass windows.

That same view enabled them to see when another horror showed up. One of rust instead of rotting green. Thousands appeared at once, tearing apart the creatures and burning them with rust coloured energy.

There were thousands of former colonists, corrupted sickly green, warped beyond reason and screaming in their migraine inducing language.

But there were endless rusted warriors to meet them, at least recognisable as humanoid. They tore at the horrors in stoic silence that contrasted with their combatants' manic screaming.

Blood and limbs piled up as the two tore each other to pieces, regrowing their limbs with their energies and tearing at the other anew as their powers tried to snuff the other out.

When the smoke cleared, only rust glowed in the darkness of night.

And then they, too, vanished in the dark.

A mass evacuation was quickly organised for the survivors as the world lost its core and started to crumble.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
In reply to the Mood is Write's Because I'm an Asshole

"Holy shit."

Martin's eyes couldn't come off his phone as Elizabeth started a texting barrage.

Well barrage would be a wrong word for him. His world made it that ten ten seconds of typing out there in the Council HQ's universe was almost half an hour's wait.

Still, Elizabeth's first message set him in motion.

"Rare was captured by the Unifiers. She chose a humiliating death to gain the chance to say goodbye."

The moment he saw that, he stiffened. He knew that they're going to kill her slow.

And slow was exactly what he needed.

"Alright people! Listen up!" The March Hare screamed at his frolicking flock of former Hunters. Invalids that should've been put down, but he gave them a small sanctuary to hold up. He called it Hunter's Rest.

"I"m going to need you to do exactly as I say, without ever asking what I'm going to do with it."

Confused murmurs erupted from those that were closest to him, with Magdelyne, that scarred flower, nodding almost instantly, "Of course, Sir."

The rest of the group slowly started to nod as well, murmuring their agreements.

"Good. We don't have a lot of time."

* * *​

She said she doesn't want to die.

Martin glanced at the old message on his phone. Even working as fast as he possibly could, he took a month to finish his project.

And Rare subsequently endured four hours of torturous execution. They're keeping her drugged to inhibit her survival instincts turning her into an animal, and very much alive as they take her apart and study her giblets.

Martin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

This ends now.

The combat mech Martin had feverishly laboured to make for the past month was finally finished. A twelve foot monstrosity of adamantium/Mythril alloy, lasers and teleportation jammers and devices.

His Hunters didn't know yet, and they wouldn't know until he teleported into the Void Base.

It's amazing what you can do if someone's on the line. You can "break" a portal device in just a week while your allies build the framework.

Martin quickly dove into the hulking monster as Magdelyne ask "Alright we've built it. Who are we going to fight, Sir?"

She gave a small smile, proud of herself of deducing the obvious or was it that she was amused at his apparent idea that the Hunters wouldn't know a war machine when they built one.

Martin gave her an apologetic smile "You? Nobody."

The entire group caught on to what he was saying, but couldn't stop him as he engaged the teleportation protocols.

A heap of bodies collided with each other in Hunter's Rest. Their metallic target nowhere to be found. Their first glimpse of Martin's ability to use actual technology, instead of his usual steam and gears.

Eccentricities were secondary to particularly dire situations.

* * *​

The thudding of the multi-ton Walker echoed through the long hallways of the void base. Behind him stood carnage and destruction brought by two laser cannons encased in an impenetrable armour. In front of him were more Unifiers, armed with some other sort of anti armour that they hoped would penetrate his mecha.

It didn't.

He'd been fighting his way to the Execution Block for almost twenty minutes now. Twenty minutes of Rare suffering. Every second ticking by felt like a blade going closer to Martin's neck. He took risks he shouldn't normally take, simply to be there faster.

By the time he arrived where they were killing Rare, he had lost his other eye, his front four teeth and a good bit of his lower lip, a chunk of his upper skull, and his left thumb. The Walker was reduced to a mobile platform rather than death-on-legs.

Their matter disintegrators made good, slow work on it, but the Teleportation Device was still intact. As was the portal distorter that protected him from whoever managed the teleport devices in the base. It'd be easy for them to simply shunt him into the void, killing him instantly.

The Unifier taking her to bits didn't have a moment to be surprised, as a shiny silver ball was already burying its way deep into their skulls.

He glanced up to find the camera filming the entire thing, and gave a bloody-mouthed smile.

"Dhe show ish canshelled" He stated drily, spitting out a mass of blood that made his mouth taste like metal.

"Shomeone owesh me a new shet of teeth."

He Took a high explosives grenade from the stash he started to collect when his weapons failed, chucking it at the hallway and giggling to himself as it exploded. Some screams of pain could be heard.

Martin proceeded to throw every grenade he had in there, revelling in the screams of shock and terror before explosions sent vibrations through the indestructible hull.

Satisfied that they would take their time to make sure Martin didn't have any more explosives with him, he hummed a happy tune as he unstrapped the limp body of Rare. He was beyond being angry at the sight of her taken apart body. He was beyond disgust or delicacy or pity or any of that.

He just wanted to fuck off with Rare.

He didn't mind the blood as he hopped on his walker, fumbling with the jury rigged wires he had to set up after they destroyed his control panel. Even as he worked, he kept his eyes at the hallway until they vanished in a flash of energy.

Martin was embraced by a mass of pissed off former Hunters. Magdelyne quickly taking his phone and texting to Elizabeth that they safely returned.

Magdelyne spared a look towards the drugged Rare as they put her into a newly constructed medical bay. They had started building it a day or so after Martin had left.

The things that man wouldn't do for those he loved.
 
Report to: Queen Elizabeth of the Council of Hunters

Hunters assigned: Lady Ashley Tarvok; Grand Archmagician Balthazar the Destroyer

Report Written by:Grand Archmagician Balthazar the Destroyer

Mission Reference number: J3FD GE9V J39F A02N

Report Details:

Herein I shall account the exact details of how I, Balthazar the Wyrmslayer, destroyed a rather unexpected nest of drakes harassing a small hamlet of the world the Green Lady and myself were sent to give aid for their disappearances.

At first, it was thought to be a caster of a pitiful and mediocre level, hence the decision to send me, Balthazar the Grand Mage. A rather reasonable explanation to give if you realise that the descriptions of grave digging are reminiscent of a necromancer. Yet, as Balthazar the Fatekissed shall tell you within these this report, it proved a whole matter entirely.

For we were not seeking a human, but a Dragon.

Tracking them by scent proved rather effective, as I, Balthazar to Foreseeing, expect the necromancer was not anticipating something that could track them by scent. Hunters are rather common in this world, as magic here seems to corrupt the mind and soul. Thus, we are the only saviours these fine folk have.

Even so, they do not fully understand us. These primitive folk, reminiscent of the dark ages, only eke out a living on a primitive degree. Even so, their infinite gratitude is very much enjoyed for every Hunter who sets foot in the good lands of this world.

Such it is, that we were very well fed when we arrived in the dark cavern we tracked the stench of death towards. By protocol, I, Balthazar the Bulwark, took point as we descended into the dark abyss of some nefarious soul's lair. It was fortunate indeed that I had done it, for the only warning I received was a blinding red and yellow light before I was enveloped in flames.

I conjured Samson first, using life magicks I had stored inside myself. The massive, twelve foot monstrosity of bone and muscles dutifully absorbed most of the attack as my flesh mended from the burn damage. The Green Lady was running off to the side, attempting a flanking manoeuvre, when she ran headfirst into a mob of undead.

Thus, only I was left to deal with the beast, spouting arcane secrets and impossibilities as his, and I assure it was a he from the vantage point I had, minions swarmed us.

Samson charged into the mob as I created Spookums and Felix. The spider and the hound respectively tore into their rotting flesh as I moved in to confront the beast directly. My robes were destroyed, but my Hunter jacket still stood the trial of flame. As did my dagger. Thusly, I charged the beast, armed like a savage, and we did battle.

Fire was met stoicism. Fangs were met with my feet stomping them in. Claws were met with my dagger as we duelled to the death. My flesh burned from the dragon's flames as the dragon's burned from my silver dagger. We danced, and the cave shook in awe and strain as we laid waste to our battlefield in our struggles.

For when elephants fight, the grass suffers.

The dead were buried in rock from our struggles, and the Green Lady was forced to pull back. But not I. I, Balthazar the Wyrmslayer had to stay and finish my deed. I was a Hunter and the dragon was the prey. It was my sworn oath to slay it, for the honour of the Council itself.

The dragon was nearly as powerful as I, Balthazar the Destroyer, but it was not as intelligent. I used the falling debris, grabbing a pillar of earth that fell from above and threw it like a javelin. It met the beast's chest squarely, but simple rock could not break its hide. Just as I moved in to strike, the creature struck my arm with its tail, promptly disarming me in an act of cowardice and fear for Balthazar the Terrifying. With no weapon left, I dove towards it in a mad fury and throttled it by the neck.

A titanic struggle ensued. The Dragon tried to rip the terrifying force it had foolishly trifled with off his neck. I had started ripping it apart, chunk by fleshy, bloody chunk. The caves around us groaned and cracked in anguish as I, Balthazar the Destroyer, caused the thing to cave in and bury as both.

Even so, I killed it. I drove my fist into its eyes and ripped its brain apart as I was forced to meet the beast head on in its savagery. In its barbarism.

My allies feared in vain at the sight. For I, Balthazar the Immortal crawled my way out like a borrowing beast of legend. I only turned back to dig up my dagger, for I had already killed the beast in the death throws of its lair.

From there, we returned to the village and put the townsfolk at ease. We had a week left before the portal mages were tasked to teleport us back, so we made merry and protected the surrounding countryside. I, Balthazar the Mentor, trained the local troops to better defend themselves, but I fear, in my infinite Wisdom, that it will never be enough in the face of magick.

After a week, we returned to our sacred sanctum and promptly set to write this report with the utmost alacrity.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Martin gazed at the remnants of the Hunters put under his charge: The trainees all died. Only the scarred and disabled veterans stood any resistance as they systematically destroyed a Hunter testing ground

Another artillery shell hit, blowing up his lab. He wondered how quick this was happening, in the HQ's perception of time? Hours could go by here, with only minutes having gone by where Liz was working, completely oblivious that the Unifiers moved into this Universe. That they had built their shields that prevented communication and they found Martin's world by chance.

At least Rare wasn't here. She had another day of Crow shunting her around. The inventor was incredibly happy about it, at this point. She wouldn't die because Crow was being a prick.

The Butterfly Effect at its finest.

Absently, he saw the laser cutters start digging through the last line of defence they had against the Unifiers. The entire group of Hunters readied themselves with their mishmash of weapons. Martin pulled back the hammers on his revolvers to try and cool his nerves.

The cut in the steel wall became a full circle, falling to the ground with a thunderous racket. The Unifiers overwhelmed his entire group with a well placed heavy machine gun.

Martin was hit in the kidneys, laughing slightly as he pressed a detonator.

Everything went up in flame: No one would be captured and tortured, whether they wanted to die or not.

* * *​

Archie was born with a large birthmark that streaked across his head. He proved to be a prodigy when it came to being a Hunter, showing tactics and experience well beyond his age. Archie worked hard through training, excelling in physical combat even for Hunter standards due to his draconic heritage.

He was descendent of some sort of Wyrm of the earth element. He was a big, hardy Hunter that took great pleasure overpowering his foes with his sheer strength, durability and ferocity.

He passed the Hunter Exam with the highest points in his group, but it was clear he was planning something. He made friends, told them that he was a reincarnation of someone, but never let them in on his secrets. He always said he was thinking of a way to make the grandest entrance possible to those he left behind in his old life.

* * *​

Archie found Rare quickly enough. With a few questions beforehand, he figured out that she was free for the day. Not for long anyways.

"Rare!" He yelled, causing his Princess to turn around. She, of course, didn't recognise him.

"Follow me." He ordered, gesturing for her to follow him. He could smell she didn't want to find out what he had planned for her, it could go any direction with a new guy after all. He could be a gentle lover or an absolute sadist. Nonetheless, the collar forced her to move.

Archie quickly made his way to Elizabeth's office. His dark umber hair thick and somehow heavy looking. His eyes of the same colour betrayed no indication of what's going to happen. He smiled, his one hand tracing the hairless birthmark that ran along the right side of his scalp while the other felt in his Hunter jacket for the things he had put in there previously.

Of everything about being a Hunter, he missed the Jacket the most.

He entered Liz's office while she was busy with some paperwork. She glanced up, confusion in her scent as he pointed to a chair for Rare to sit in

"Can I help you?" The marvellous feline spoke. Archie gave a grin, showing that he had no fear for this Councilman as he closed the door behind him and closed the shutters.

He quickly pulled out a piece of chalk, inscribing the privacy rune he knew by heart.

"Hey, how did you know that rune?" Came Liz's question. Wariness spread through her scent and Rare's as the seven foot, mountain-built man turned to both with a small smile.

"A shame I can't bring Poppy into this." He stated cheekily, revelling as both stiffened at the realization that he knew of Elizabeth's best-kept secret.

"You better be very careful of what you say next," Liz stated with a voice that sent chills down Archie's spine.

"Oh believe me. I've been stewing about what I'm gonna say now for weeks"

More confusion and weariness. He quickly pulled out a Victorian era, grey dress and deposited it into Rare's lap. It was nearly identical to the one that Martin had given her. Archie remembered that she always wore that one in particular, so it had to be her favourite.

To remove any doubt, he put a large leather collar on top of the dress. The one he always insisted she wears as a silent statement that she was his when she was with him, in his world. It was big enough to cover the entirety of Rare's true collar.

Then, he locked eyes with Elizabeth. She, of course, didn't back down. She probably thought it was to spot a reaction of fear due to the information he gave, or she thought he was challenging her or something like that.

Instead, he started to speak.

"I am Slayer, Smiter, Basher and Breaker. I am Terror and Bringer of Night. I am what women fear, lest I leave them, widows. I am what men fear, lest I take their women. I am master of the blocks of life, and the Lord of Death itself."

Elizabeth blinked. She recognised it. He could see and smell the gears turning in her head as he continued.

"I am Archmage Supreme and the Envy of Djinn. I am master of life, and through it, death. I am the Sorcerer Above all."

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he gave her a smug smile.

"I am Balthazar. A fucker too stubborn to stay dead."

Click.

Elizabeth stared at him for a long time, then sputtered out "Martin, you cock!"

He pulled his head back in thunderous laughter, threatening to fall out of his chair.

"I'm glad to see you, too!"
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Crow was dead.

At first, Martin found the news as a shock. Even if he despised the man for keeping Rare to himself. Even with the tengu blatantly refusing the inventor's demands for Rare. Even if Martin was more interested in her, more attached to her, he still felt a pang of loss. Their rivalry was a friendship.

As always, such things were only found in hindsight.

Then came the questions. How, why, when, where? Nobody really knew what was going on. He was on a personal trip, bird watching of all things, and it's assumed the Unifiers jumped him. Teal wearing carcasses around him when his body was found, gave enough evidence.

What was unexplainable, was the perfectly clean hole burned through his skull. Martin had examined photos of the wound personally, due to Liz hoping that maybe Martin or Hegga knew whatever weapon that had done it. Neither knew what the fuck it was. It looked like a giant paper punch had gone right through his skull.

If they thought like Martin, it probably was something of similar design.

Afterwards, Martin found that his time with Rare grew incredibly. With Crow not giving her orders she couldn't resist, it was a lot easier to use her collar to his advantage. He kept her in his world as much as he could, always trying to give her a voice through ordering her to speak her mind.

Brock had been killed a while back and, as bad as he felt about feeling it, he was very happy. Rare was shattered, of course, and Martin was heartbroken at how it hurt her. Eventually, Rare started to smile again. Martin always smiled. Rare was almost his.

Then, Crow's will popped up.

Martin had to follow Rare in some sort of chamber to earn her freedom. He was happy for her, he could tell that she really wanted to remove it. Martin also did, but doubtlessly not as much. With her collar gone, nothing would stop her from deciding that Martin Chasty wasn't the man she wanted.

Of course, his own selfish desires worked against themselves. He wanted her to be happy as well. He didn't want to keep Rare if she hated him. He'd rather lose her like this than force her in a box and make her hate him.

The chamber had images of Rare being raped by monsters of all breeds and sizes. Poor Rare stormed away in embarrassment, with Martin soon giving chase. Even so, he couldn't keep up with a Hunter. He could only stop when there was no way forward, and read what the paper told him to do.

Rare was to be tested. If she failed, Martin was to be her master until she recovered enough to try again. Though failure had punishments, apparently a silver waterfall splashed on her for thirty-six hours.

Martin swallowed visibly at the sight of the stuff. Silently, he prayed to whatever ancient Japanese gods Crow's mythos had, to make sure Rare would pass. He knew he didn't truly mean it from the bottom of his heart, but he also knew that no singular inch of him wanted her under that stream of molten silver.

So he waited. He waited for days. Hearing noises he'd rather not hear.

When he heard her choking, he started to meditate. He didn't like the sound of choking, reminded him too much of Doctor Hetman and her sadistic streak.

She choked and choked, and then she was suddenly screaming as molten silver splashed on her form.

"Holy fuck!" He sputtered in horror. His eyes wide as he tried to shake himself from the shock.

Then he charged. He didn't think, he just wanted to save her.

Of course, Crow would have guessed Martin would pull something like that. The moment the crippled Examiner came close, he hit a solid wall of nothing, breaking his nose and making him sink back as Rare just kept on screaming

"Rare! Rare I'm getting you out! I swear to God! I'm getting you out!" He roared. His brain burned itself crispy as it worked itself to death to try and think of a way to save her.

By the end of the twelfth hour, the place was a mess of tools, scorch marks and burnt out magical runes. Martin tried everything he could possibly think of silver, blowtorches, explosives, ramming it, and even using the small amount of magical knowledge he had himself.

None of it worked.

He never stopped trying.

It's been almost a day and a half. Thirty-five hours and fifty minutes, as that fucking hourglass keeps showing.

He could only stay there and stare at her tormented form as she gave what weak whimpers she still had left in her.

She was a fucking mess

Martin was as well, but he at least knew he'd recover from it.

He didn't sleep -How the fuck could he even?- or eat. He had spent thirty-six hours straight trying and failing to get through to Rare. He had given up only when he knew it would take too much time to get another tool before Rare was released.

When the thing finally let her go, burnt crispy and broken minded, Martin was already at her side.

Only then did he realise he should have brought a fucking gurney.

"Rare! Rare, listen to me! You're going to get through this, understand?! You're going to be okay!" He hissed as he picked her up and carried her off. Alsoome would know how to stabilise her. Martin just had to carry her too-light form to her.

"Rare! Rare it's okay! I'm going to make sure you get through this, alright?"

He ran as fast as he dared with the sound of cooked flesh choking him.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Based off The Mood is Write's story: Damnation

"Morning, Rare." Martin stated idly, sighing as he gazed at those empty eyes. She never recovered from the "Punishment" Crow had thought up. Physically was one thing, but she had retreated inside herself. Nobody could do a whole lot to help her if she doesn't want to come out of her shell.

Nonetheless, he kept talking to her. He refused to let a day go by without having a painfully one-sided conversation. One of these days, she might just respond back/

He started by rubbing her broken body, just a stump without arms or legs, with the ointment Alsoome had given him. He could feel that the thing had faint demonic energies, probably meant to seep in and heal her from the inside.

All the while, Martin spoke, "So today's the big day, huh? Today we open a portal to hell for you."

He sighed as he started to work his way down from her face.

"I know, I would've preferred not doing it myself. A lot of risk involved, after all. The Sad thing is: You don't have any magic left in you. You're quite literally just a husk. A mortal husk."

He took a breath to calm his emotions as he worked his way to her ruined chest

"There's no tissue I can risk touching with you in this state, that has magic in it. I think there's some left in your vital organs, but they're hard pressed as is to just keep you alive."

He took a deep breath, blinking away tears as he finished at her crotch. He would've been overjoyed at such a care, were she not broken so badly by Crow's "Punishment"

"Punishment" wasn't the right word. This was a failed execution.

He groaned slightly as he picked her up from her bed in the infirmary. Carrying her disturbingly weightless form to the Portal Room.

He had a plan. As always, it was fucking ballsy and just plain insane. No other way to put it.

* * *​

Martin sat on a chair someone pulled out for him. The rest of them were standing. They were too stressed to sit still, while Martin felt like he couldn't stand unless absolutely necessary. He just felt that lethargy in his legs.

This was a fucking insane idea. Martin found himself in small fits of hysteria as he reviewed his plan.

There were, including Rare, eight crippled demonic Hunters in Hunter's Rest. Four were Wrath demons, one was Pride, one was Lust, one was Envy and Rare followed with Gluttony.

Martin had them all locked in adamantium cages right in front of the portal generator. Demonic energies would seep in and restore them from the inside out.

He took a deep breath as everyone went to their cells. Rick, James, Arthur and Kira were the Wrath demons. Heinrich was the Pride demon. Magdelyne, in her scarred and broken beauty, was a succubus. Rare was already in her cell, put there by Martin himself.

In each was a large trunk filled to the brim with meat. Martin figured they would need it if their bodies were to be regenerated.

Martin's plan was simple, yet ballsy: Four former Hunters, alongside Martin himself, would defend the Portal from demons pouring out. Martin had twin Angels, Annelee and Eleanor, in his care. Both of them stood in silence, glaring at the portal generator as the thing gathered energy to open it to this Universe's Hell. Neither of them agreed with this plan, but they were Martin's best defence against a demonic horde. Each of them wore mithril plate armour and a blessed mithril blade. They still had their Daggers, but Martin liked the odds more with strengthening the two angel-kin with holy magic.

Next was Abju. A Djinn descended Hunter. He liked to play his cards to his chest, a bit of a stoic. He just looked at the portal as it powered up like it the daily news report. He had the same Mythril plate and the same sword, but his was made of adamantium with an outer coating of pure silver and an inner coating of silver-adamantium alloy. He, too, was resistant to demonic influence.

Yevoh stood to Martin's right. They had the same equipment as Abju, though a goodhearted smile traced their features. They were of Unicorn ancestry. Martin wouldn't be surprised if they repelled the demons like a bear from skunk-stink. Those things find purity to such a degree absolutely disgusting

Martin Himself was armed and armoured to the teeth. He had a silver-adamantium sword strapped to his bionic right arm, and a machine pistol with a huge drum magazine on his left. He had silver chain mail armour on and Kevlar underneath. Several drum magazines glinted on his back, as well as a few grenades.

He stood on his two legs the moment the siren went off to show the portal opening. He signalled for the oxygen masks to be put on as the sulphur and heat vented into his world's atmosphere.

He was vaguely aware of activity in the cages as the first horde of demons, decidedly Gluttony from their large maws, came pouring through.

* * *​

Ten minutes had passed when the portal finally closed.

The demons came, and Martin and his allies harvested them like the Reapers themselves.

Ol' Jericho would be busy tonight.

Martin and his companions had built a hill of demon corpses. All of them were breathing heavily out of their oxygen tanks. The air was thick with pheromones, poison and sulphur. The Angel Twins were breathing heavily since most of the demons had made a beeline for them. Martin had to assign his two other Hunters just to keep them from being dragged back into the portal.

Which, of course, meant Martin had to defend his demonic allies all on his lonesome as those that did seep out from the horde towards him, tried to free their caged "brethren".

Martin had a good chunk of his cheek missing, nothing he couldn't fix himself. He had a chunk bitten out of his left shoulder, even through the armour, that soaked blood through the rest of his clothes.

Idly, Martin injected himself with healing serum of his own design, walking the pain off his wounds started to heal. He wasn't going to tell Liz about the wounds, it'd just needlessly worry her.

He took a deep breath through his oxygen mask and turned around to see how his companions were doing.

The four Wrath demons were all big and fucking angry. Their hulking forms rattled the cages and roared defiance and murder.

The Pride demon sat patiently, cross legged and eyeing Martin with great amusement. Somehow, that look seemed far scarier than all of the Wrath demons combined.

The Envy demon, a massive snake, glared at all the shiny things its eyes could catch, wondering why it didn't have those things.

Rare, the Gluttony demon, prowled her cage with irritation. The meat trunk they had put in there was nearly empty. That was good.

Magdelyne the Succubus never stopped looking at Martin. The look she gave him would have made lesser willed men dive to her. Made them beg her for the pleasure she could bring.

Martin sighed in relief. It had worked. They were all in their demonic forms, with all their limbs on their flawless bodies.

Now he just had to wait until they slowly returned to their human forms.

He grabbed his chair and sat back down, eying Rare and Magdelyne specifically.

It was going to be a long wait.

* * *​

"Martin!~" Magdelyne purred, her flawless form pouncing and hooking into his arm as he got out of bed.

"Hello, Mags." Martin sighed in his overly dramatic manner, smiling to her "Enjoying your new form, I see."

"Of course!~" That pink eyed beauty purred, nodding furiously as they walked to Rare's room. She, as always, slowed down the closer they got to the room. Stopping just out of the doorway to let Martin go in alone.

"Welp. See you in an hour."

She gave a small nod. "Martin?"

"Yeah."

"She'll come around"

Martin found his insides knotting and his face twisting into a scowl. Idly, he muttered "Yeah."

He opened the door, giving a warm smile to the catatonic form of Rare. Even if she was fully healed, her mind had not been repaired. It was simply too much to hope that healing her body would fix her mind.

"Hello, Rare! It's a lovely day today!" He started, preparing to give the unresponsive girl a bubble bath

"Let's go to the gardens. I planted forget-me-nots, just for you. It's in fool bloom thanks to an old friend of mine."

Martin gave a sad sigh as Rare didn't respond yet again. He refused to give up hope, though. He had gone through too much in his life to let those that were precious to him go.

He'd go to hell once more if it meant to see her come back to him.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Just a thing I thought of. Based on multiple stories in my head and not really intended to fit anywhere. For now, at least.

Warnings: Suggestive content

"Greetings, Sir."

Arryn scowled as he heard Azerith talk through his solid stone door. A perfect little thing if you had the magic to move it open and closed at will. Nobody could go through that thing without a siege engine.

Father would never allow the scandal, so whenever he locked himself in his room, they could only starve him out by not sending his food up to his room. A good tactic since Arryn couldn't go very long before he felt his mind starting to go numb with hunger.

"Hello, Azerith." Arryn sighed grandly, getting up from his bed with a groan of pain. His eyes, nose and head hurt too much to keep crying. Besides, a Stonemaker should never allow themselves weakness like Arryn so bountifully sobbed out.

Then again, when did he ever fail to disappoint in that respect? Always bursting into tears at the most inopportune times.

"I was wondering if you'd let me in, Sir."

No. He didn't want her to see him like this. A broken, tired little shit that's too tired to keep bawling his eyes out. Because he can't do something so simple as to ride a fucking horse.

His brother, Henry, already managed something so simple at age six. With Arryn being too inept to do so at fucking nineteen.

The stone doors slid open, and his pale purple sweetheart glided inside before Arryn closed the door shut behind her. Arryn's parents dressed her up like a servant. It didn't do much for her figure, but it almost made Arryn's "eccentricities" bearable. Almost made him convenient.

Because what a scandal it was to a flesh golem instead of a living, breathing human. One who looked like sin and obeyed every order. What would the people say? What would everyone think? That's the most important part, what people think. Not Arryn's thoughts or feelings about the matter.

"You're awfully quiet, Sir."

Arryn looked at the light purple-skinned girl, with her runes etched into her small face. With her too-thick hair braided into half a dozen tails. Perfectly strange.

"Just thinking about things, Azerith."

Azerith gave her little smirk and nodded "I can see that, Sir, but what about?"

"Just..."

Always when he wanted to answer a question when he was having one of his fits, he couldn't grasp the words. That I hate myself, Azerith. I think I'm a disappointment to my family and to the world as a whole. That the only place I feel safe is when I'm locked in my room with my magic stone door, working on a new stone golem, or reading the runes on your form, or getting seduced by you in the way you know I love and fuck you until it hurts to get it up.

"I'm just frustrated. With the fact that I can't get over my stupid fear of horses."

Azerith walked towards his hunched form, sitting on the side of his stone framed bed and wool mattress. With that perfect grace of hers, she sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, her glowing, light purple eyes, with blacks where there should be whites, gazed at the dull blue glow of the runes of his door. Her hand rubbed against his back, and somehow he didn't feel like a child when she did. She never mocked him. Never called him childish.

"It's understandable to fear them, Sir. A horse crippled you, after all." She gave a small smile as she moved to look up to him.

Was she just blind, or does she intentionally ignore his inadequacies? Nobody's ever showed any form of understanding for the fact that he couldn't even get close to a fucking pony. Yet here she is, pretending that he wasn't a cowardly shit.

Suddenly, the hand rubbing his back made him feel like a child, regardless, and as always she figured that out all on her own and stopped. Her hand moved to his shoulder furthest from him and pulled herself closer to him.

"You know that my parent's don't accept that, Azerith."

"Well, they're rather ignorant."

That made Arryn snort loudly. He felt himself smile again and he put his arm around her shoulder as well. He held her as tight as he could before blurting out "They're sitting out there, waiting for me to be presentable, aren't they?"

Azerith gave a small smile and nodded

"And then they're going to tell me, "Don't do that again, Arryn!" and think that I'm going to be a perfect little child, right?"

Another smile, but a sad one.

"Fill a water basin. I need to wash my face."

"Of course, Sir."

"And Azerith?" Arryn kissed her before she could ask what. A simple gesture without even an inkling of tongue, but Arryn couldn't convey more gratitude with it. "Thank you."

"I live to serve you, body and soul."

Arryn stopped and scowled at her, but she was innocence incarnate under his withering gaze. She knew perfectly damn well he enjoyed being in charge. "You're enjoying this, aren't you."

"I always enjoy being yours."

Arryn gave her a light thwack on her shoulder before grumbling "Get the basin. We don't have time for this."

"Of course, Sir."

 
  • Love
Reactions: The Mood is Write
A possible ending I thought about, concerning me and @The Mood is Write 's RP: The Crow and the Rare Tale



Tegru missed taste. Taste and smell were the first to go when he devoured the Keeper. Even the taste of blood was muted, the taste of an eyeball he pecked out of a skull from a long-nosed demon. A creature more powerful than even the Keeper.

The Creature's name was Eiji. Eiji Nanzo. He was a tengu once, but not the half-crow creatures from Tegru's Far East. A Tengu of a world where he poisoned the populace, for he did not understand humans were cause for empathy. Of where he was recruited by a feline that would give him much torment and terror. Of where he was recruited to be akin to a God, for the price of all his memories before. Of where he recruited a young gluttony demon called Rare, and made her slave to his will. Of where she defied that will again and again, but could not break his spell.

"Eiji. In the name of the Keeper of Stories, I release your soul to the Reapers. For the enslavement of the creature I love, I will make you serve as her means of freedom."

Eiji looked up to the sound of Tegru's voice, whispering madness into the Tengu's skull. Their battle had destroyed the entire region around them, and Tegru could still feel the overwhelming power within him, as well as the power to destroy him.

Giant talons carved into the Councilman's chest, his eyeless face contorting in pain and his worn out voice giving a hoarse moan of pain. It didn't stop Tegru from carving the rune on his flesh. It didn't stop Tegru from sapping all his strength, except that which would destroy him.

And in turn, Tegru didn't stop the lifeless husk from falling into the burned, eroded earth.

""I name you Eiji Nanzo. Leave this world for your reapers."

Tegru watched the spirit float away, guided by a force not of this world. A force his Crows do not know. It was for the best. Maybe they couldn't place his spirit in Tegru's realm.

Tegru stood as tall as he could, the creature's strength now his. The nine foot, black feathered beast with massive wings on either side of him, walked on feet made of scales, with talons for toes. Tegru examined his feather covered arms, and the talons that were his hands, and found nothing lacking. Eiji Nanzo will forever be remembered as the demon that kept Rare prisoner, but his battle, ripping Tegru's flesh apart again and again, remade the victor into perfection of his form.

Eiji's knowledge was Tegru's now. Including Rare's collar. She will gain her freedom on this day.

Without much else, Tegru walked to the town a far ways off, where he knew Rare could not be hurt or forced to fight against her will.

Tegru had promised her freedom, all those years ago when they met. He was finally capable of honouring his word.
 
  • Like
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Warning: Suicide

Martin didn't know why this was such a problem. He thought it out, argued all the possibilities. Drugs were too much of an open question, plus he couldn't get his hands on enough of the good stuff with his budget. That left slit wrists, gunshot, hanging, and jumping

He couldn't trust himself to go through with it if he just slit his wrist and hoped for the best. He could still back out, then, cauterize his arms, call 911, that sort of thing. No, he needed a way he couldn't back out of.

Jumping wasn't a good idea. He knew he wouldn't be able to take the step forward needed, even if the momentum made it impossible to back out. He couldnt' stare his death in the eyes like that. He was a coward, it's a miracle he managed to get this far.

Gunshot needs a gun, which he couldn't get his hands on. So all he had left was hanging himself.

That was easy enough to set up. All you really needed was a belt, a chair, and someplace high you could hook the thing on.

Best was, all you needed was to tip the chair over and you're done. Nothing you could do, would stop yourself from choking to death.

He had it all ready: He stood on that flimsy piece of shit chair, had the belt loop wrapped around his neck, hell he even had the thing firmly nailed on the roof.

Now, all he needed to do was to tip the chair over. Literally. Then it all would end. He wouldn't have to worry about his life, his fuckup of an existence that it was, he wouldn't have to worry about his parents, abusive fucks that they are, he wouldn't even have to worry about his life after.

All he had to do was just tilt the chair a bit too far. That's it. Then he could die, stop being everyone's problem, and just end it.

That's what he kept telling himself for the past hour, feeling more and more empty inside as he stood there.

All he had to do was tilt it.

That's all.

Chirp-Chirp

The sound of a single cricket was all he needed. The sudden noise made him jolt, turn to the noise with his body. With that flimsy piece of shit chair, it tilted all the way without any more complaints

First thing he noticed, was the lack of force between his feet. Something that he always felt through is life, just gone.

Next was the belt around his neck. It Fucking hurt. It hurt so bad.

This was a bad idea.

Then he noticed the fact that he couldn't breathe. His nostrils flared as his lungs tried to heave in air that simply wasn't there to be taken.

He couldn't breath.

He couldn't breathe.

God, Help me.

Please.

Help.

Me...
 
Warning: Graphic Scene and Murder

"Sugerplum honeybug.... Know that I love you?"

Spooks looked down at the carnage and destruction around him. An entire city was burned to ash. Human bodies were scattered all across the central plaza. The men were chopped to bits, and the women were raped, then chopped to bits.

"Can't help myself."

And people think elves are fucking cultured. They're animals, just as humans. They just need a bigger excuse. Spooks needed nothing to skin them alive, one by one. Their screams were so fucking satisfying.

"I love you and nobody else."

"Spooooks!" Spooks looked up, watching that stupid little shit they paired him up with, run his merry fucking way to the plaza. "Spooks! What happened here?"

"You Did"

The second grade Hunter didn't even see Spooks' hand. He just gave this pathetic, scared little noise before his eyes bulged out of his head when a giant tentacle wrapped around his throat and lifted him off the ground

"You and your peace. You and Jade and the Stalkers and FUCKING PEACE"

"THEY WOULDN'T DO THAT! THEY'RE ELVES! ELVES ARE JUST COCKY" Spooks kept roaring, rabid with rage at the piece of shit. At Jade. At the Stalkers. At the pathetic excuse of a grave he tried to make for Councilman Eiji.

Eiji...

Tears seeped into his eyes, burning from the sensation and blinding him, but at least the snot blocked the stench of blood and raw meat. Nothing had rotted yet.

"You know the new protocols, Spooks..." He mumbled as he saw that his supposed "equal" had already passed out "Come on man. It's for the best."

Spooks' partner's neck made a strange squelching sound as he pinched the fucker's head off from his shoulders. Absently, he glanced down to the framed picture of Faida he had in his other hand, feeling the tears burning back into existence before he managed to stuff his feelings with her picture into his pockets.

"Sugarplum honeybug. Know that I love you?"

He dumped the body into some burning house.

"Know that I love you?"

With nothing left, he walked out silently. The flies were starting to really get into the bounty as he exited the plaza

"Can't help myself. I love you and nobody else."

* * *

Spooks returned to base, reporting that his partner had made an error of judgement. He wanted to follow the new protocols and try to negotiate with the elves, who by all accounts looked like a constant variant. Spooks insisted on taking action, citing sentient nature, but his partner refused and threaten to report him to Jade. Being a troublemaker in this regard already, Spooks was forced to keep his mouth shut.

When the carnage came, spooks reported that his partner was in the middle of the negotiations when the elves turned on the humans, falling quickly from a premeditated strike with silver weapons. They burned his body and Spooks couldn't recover his jacket or his dagger.

He never once said the man's name through the entire report, simply thumbing something in his jacket pocket while giving the report in a dead voice.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: The Mood is Write
Another AU based on The Mood is Write's RP with me: Tyrogian War.

It was done.

Tyrog glanced around at the dead hunters around him. So many lives extinguished and put back into the cycle. Twelve of his own men littered the grounds for each Hunter, and more so when they finally started with the Councilmen.

They tried to flee, but he had anticipated that. They tried to use their beasts, but they cannot withstand light from his bioluminescent troops. They were on their own, and they showed the Tyrogian Empire why they led a force as terrifying as the Hunters.

The air stank of blood and charred meat of all kinds. Thousands upon thousands of Tyrogians lay burnd, eviscerated, vivisected, and crushed,
and those were only the ones whose death Tyrog could recognize. He won this war by burying them in his dead.

The Hunters were dead, their Councilmen killed or routed. Their base was destroyed, and Tyrog was at last victorious.

So much death...

He glanced at the cafeteria. There were trays there. A Hunter took one single bite out of his steak before Tyrog's legions opeed the final portal.

Stepping through a layer of blood, he observed the destruction he caused, closing his heart to the madness and despair.

Closing his heart to the Hunters.

Tyrog wielded the title of the Multiverse's Enforcer now. With the Hunters and Unifiers exterminated, nothing stood against him.

Why did he feel so hollow?

He knew the answer, but he knew not to acknowledge it. To acknowledge it would bring ruin to this entire campaigne. He couldn't allow that.

He was Emperor Tyrog, and he would unify the Multiverse.
 
Something I've been stewing about. Based on the Mood is Write's response to my work: The End of an Empire and her Fractured AU

"Push forward! Do not give an inch to these teal monkeys!" Relic shouted as he held the battle line.

It's been nearly thirty years of constant war. Relic was almost, almost reminded of a time, long long ago, that had so much more death than this battle. Of a time where he destroyed the multiverse.

This was not that time.

And he would not let it fall again.

Silver bullets uselessly bounced off his chitin plating as his legions continued their relentless, suicidal advance. Advanced lasers and shells were met with chitin stakes and acid as the infantry forces did their war of attrition. Hunters and Adapters alike were at Relic's flanks, smashing through the defensive in a pincer attack.

"Stand strong, my children! Our line must not fall!"

Jade was a fair Multiverse, and Relic would make sure she did not suffer.

So far, the war was a brutal stalemate, with neither side gaining a clear advantage. Whatever numerical advantage the Unifiers had, Relic had counteracted by using the corpses of the dead to make new soldiers. With every death of the enemy, Relic grew stronger, but the Enemy somehow kept throwing life upon life to their end, and Relic was forced to meet them in kind.

Even so, even with the death, he could only hope Jade would make it. That he would not kill another Multiverse by doing the one thing he had left: Wage war.

So he fought on. And on. The years rolled by and more and more people died. Hunters he had grown close to, Adapters, General Dragon, but Relic himself kept going. He refused to submit, refused to bend. He refused to die until he strangled the very last Unifier with his own chitinous hand, gazing up at the mountain of dead around him. At the few empty husks, Hunters and Adapters forced to see horrors they were not ready for.

Relic dripped blood, his own and hundreds of others', and slowly marched to Jade. He gave his leader a salute, staring at her while yellow blood poured out of his many wounds.

"We won, Jade." Relic stated grimly, eyeing the dead and taking a deep, slow inhale to absorb the scent of blood, shit, piss, acid, gunpowder and ozone.

He's seen worse. He's done worse. Relic will always have done worse.

He wiped the blood out of his eyes, only realising then that he didn't have a left arm anymore. When did he lose that? No matter.

"May we never have a victory like that again."
 
Based on The Mood is Write's response:

"Happy Birthday." Relic stated stoically, handing Jade a wrapped gift. The party was a happy affair, dulled by Relic's ancient soul and Jade's new aging on hers. Even so, he tried his best to make Jade as happy as he possibly could, forcing himself to fully believe in luck at all times, and above all be as good to Jade as he possibly could.

She was a tender soul. He didn't want her to suffer like he made his Beryl suffer. Even with his somber demeanor, he gave Jade treats, making sure to treat her like a princess in his own dry way.
 
Based on the Mood is Write's piece:
The Tyrogian forces came in an unending stream. It was clear the Hunters would be overcome by superior forces in superior numbers, but the Hunters were only ever meant to be disposable pawns.

It was time, past time, for the true warriors in the organization to enter the fray.

"It is decided," Crow intoned, and others in the hall followed as their hands lifted and in unison unstrapped their gloves, which fell away. The outer layer of their robes followed, and they unfastened the inner layer next. Clad in bulky one-piece suits, they removed their shoes, then those suits, with fell with echoing thuds, their weight shocking against the ease with which the Councilmen had worn them.

"Beryl!" Crow shouted, wearing only a fundoshi, "We fight!"

The chorus rose around the chamber, with every Councilman present, and Beryl appeared, eyes glowing with dangerous energy that the rest of her body lacked—some of her veins so dark, they appeared black under her crystalline skin.

"I lift your bonds, that you will fight for me and preserve me!" The roar of wind through a cavern wound through the chambers, and portals opened beneath each member of the Council present, sending them to worlds under attack.

With their ejection, Beryl closed Headquarters into a place between universes known as Utopia—nowhere.

With trainers and trainees protected, the Council began their assault. No two fought on the same world, and not one failed their task. Those worlds which could not be saved were destroyed before Beryl sent the Councilman elsewhere.

Soon, the Tyrogian empire was only one universe, but many worlds had died in the purge. Now, Crow stood before the Tyrogian temple, clad in fundoshi and wielding his fan as he walked up the stairs. Two more appeared behind him, and then more as they climbed the stairs, flattening them as they stepped, their power overflowing after so long bound.

And finally, the entire Council, every shift, stood before the preserved form of Elizabeth.

None wore their robes, and thus all let off the air of apex predators starved too long.

Crow looked briefly at the corpse on the altar, then snorted. "Martin," he spat as realization dawned. Martin had fled with her body after her passing, so the Tyrogians were his doing.

As Tyrog himself approached, it was to a glare from the tengu.

"Martin," he shouted, "In memory of Elizabeth, I offer you this one chance to surrender!"

Tyrog had severely underestimate the Council.

Something he never thought was possible, given how intimate he was with Elizabeth. He had also underestimated how much of an apparent threat he was to Beryl. In a sense, it was flattering. In another, fucking .
"Glad to see you know me, Eiji." He stated, a puppet walking down the steps towards the group. It was a crudely made human, its arthropoid descent obvious. It resembled Martin from ages past "I'm sad to say that I wasn't stupid enough to actually stay here."

He gave a long, sad sigh as he looked at Elizabeth "Eiji. I know you respected her. Please.... just bury her? Please?"

Then Martin's puppet collapsed, dead where he stood.

* * *


Martin sighed as he watched his former capital burn down. He was a new man, once more. The Council forced him to evolve into a lesser creature, and wasn't petty, proud or stubborn in the face of their combined destruction.

"Martiiiin~" Doctor Hetman chirped, enveloping him with an almost loving embrace. Martin stopped any such a gesture, nipping it in the bad by grabbing the bitch by her throat, staring at her with the same empty eyes she stared at him for such a long time. For once, Hetman was scared.

"Don't make me kill you. I've been in this pit before. I know this demons. You unifiers don't scare my anymore."

He gave a dark, amused smile as he watched the old bitch struggle.

"We're allies now, after all."
 
Another thing I thought up, based on Nathwa, my Demon Eater

The air around the legion could be described in two words: Suppressed Terror.

It started before the Emperor decreed they would invade this savage land. It started with the blood filling the waterpacks of the explorer teams. It started With the outriders coming back on terrified horses, mauled apart and their head and limbs stuffed into their own guts. It started when horrifying effigies rose up from the earth in a solid wall, marking the supposed border of whatever creature demanded it.

It started with the advancing legions finding their outriders horribly butchered and debased. It started every night, when an entire squadron died in ther sleep, torn apart by a monster's bare hands.

It started with a cloaked figure, standing in a road in direct opposition of the thousands strong army. His clothes were made of human leather, his mask a skull of a demon.

* * *


The Legionaries didn't dare touch him. They didn't need to. The cloaked figure knew exactly where he was going, walking into the general's tent without a word. He sat down in the chair, eyeing him with glistening black orbs.

"What are you, creature?" The general asked, grow spreading through his blond hair as he eyed Nathwa with a look of contempt perfectly hiding the fear he could smell. "You understand that I could kill you? Right now?"

"I understand that you've deluded yourself into believing that. It's the only way you could work up the nerve to see me"

"Insolent vermin!" The preatorian shouted in fear, smacking him across the head. The impact caused his arm to recoil, spraining his wrist as hidden monster remained unmoving.

"I give you one chance, human. Leave me, leave my Flower. Leave us all alone. And you will live."

A laugh. A forced act of arrogance to maintain his ego erupted from the general "I have thousands of men at my beck and call. The Empire's best. We come for this land, creature. You can't stop the Empire."

"I can try."

Screams of pain and horror erupted from the tent, before they were deafened by a roar unlike anything any soldier had ever heard. A roar of rage, lust, pride and greed. Of terror and hunger. Of gluttony and joy.

A roar that signalled the end.

After Nathwa let the hundreds of survivors flee from the field, He created a very small, very long line of blight and destruction. Concentrated evil, malice and hunger carved its way into a straight line, foundations already set.

He watched them build their wall. He watched them quake in fear as they gazed over their mortared stone, and he had peace.
 
So, I'm back. Sorry for the long absence.

Thought of a revised canon for Martin Chasty, how he breaks out of his facade of Balthazar

Martin "Balthazar" Chasty and Mason "Spooks" Breesk went missing during a routine mission to curb a demon invasion. The entire multiverse went dark, so it was assumed it was the Unifiers who made a move on them. Years came and went, and in the end it was just another pair of Hunters who met their end.

Twelve years after, a rogue portal opened up in the middle of the Hunter HQ, carrying a comatose Spooks in what looks like a cryogenic freezer and a data storage device that had one video file on.

* * *


The video glitched into being in a dark cave, lit up by spotlights to show a slumped figure fiddling with the microphone in front of him, adjusting the spotlights until his terrified, happy expression could be seen on the camera, the light giving his skin a sickly white hue.

"Hey." Martin spoke, his empty eyes constantly constantly widened as an agonized smile stretched across his face. "It's uhh.... It's been a while hasn't it? Is Rochelle still al-l-l-l"

His entire body seemed to ripple, as if it was a solid mass of jelly, the ripples reforming his face into a far more stern, cold, dead expression "That doesn't matter. I highly doubt we'll ever see her again. This.... this is supposed to be a goodbye. Not a catch-up"

Another ripple, this time Martin's expression melted into melancholy, a small voice spoke out "You're right.... it's just... Hard. Hard for us all. It's been so long since we've had someone to talk to.

Another ripple, and the cold expression returned, "We're getting off track. The point of this video isn't to chatter. This is the final report of Martin "Balthazar" Chasty, Mission ID Alpha-Helix Seven-Four-Eight-Twenty Three. If it isn't obvious enough, the mission was a failure. We got captured about a week into our mission. They set up an ambush and we killed twenty two Unifiers before they managed to incapacitate us."

His expression seemed to grow more and more empty as he continued to speak "We were.... Interrogated. We broke first, and they completely destroyed our identity. Tore everything apart and built us up from scratch. I will spare you the details, but I would highly recommend you give future Hunters the option of suicide over capture. They don't kill you... they just..."

His form rippled again, and suddenly Martin seemed to split apart. Three Martins stared at the camera, almost like an after image of a movie where they want to signify extreme speed. His eyes were red, angry and agonized. His teeth elongated and his hands morphing into blades as he hissed out words from three mouths too clenched to properly speak. "Use you. They take you and breed you. They cut you and study you. They study your children. They cut them to pieces in front of you."

Martin's three chests expanded as he forced himself to take a deep breath, his forms gradually sinking into each other like they were droplets of water "They don't kill you." He continued "Even if you don't join them.... They don't kill you."

He blinked hard, and his cold expression was back on, shaking his head "It took us a long while just to break out of their hold. Just to think. When we finally managed to think of escape, we planned. We planned for a long time."

He was silent, his face rippling as expressions of happiness, anger, agony, rage, and emptyness fought their way across his face, before finally being defeated by the empty expression "Around that time, we found Spooks. Great guy. Never broke. Not even... Not even once. So... we're giving him back. He's.... gonna take a while to recover, but he'll be fine."

A tremor fell through the cave, flashlights appearing at some far corner behind Martin

"Subjects 52 and 53! Stand down immediately!" Came a voice from far off, making Martin's entire form shake hard enough to make the camera vibrate. A creature, sleek black in armour, sprang out of Martin's back and charged towards the light, not making a single noise even as it cracked the stone floor to get to its quarry.

"Seems I don't have enough time to talk." The dead expression muttered and screams of agony sounded out behind him "I managed to rig up a portal, so I'm sending spooks back.... I quit though... I'm not.... I'm not ready."

Blinking hard, the empty expression managed to maintain control "I'll fight these people with all I have.... but we quit.... We can't be a hunter.... Not anymore. Hell. We never even fought for Beryl to begin with. We fought for someone we couldn't have."

Martin's expression became sad, hopeless, and incredibly weary. His very soul had been worn out under the care of the unifiers. He reached forward, and the video cut off

* * *


It wasn't long before whole Multiverses started to come back to Beryl's attention, the Spirits controlling them begging her for help. A Hopper always came in to a Unifier controlled world. He always created some sort of plague or scourge or an entire alien planet's worth of creatures, destroying every ounce of Unifier Infrastructure they could find, tearing down the barriers hiding these multiverses from Beryl before the whole thing collapsed in on itself. The destruction and loss of life was always immense. But it was only Unifiers who suffered. The Unifiers and the creatures that this Hopper made. Collateral damage was kept to a miracilous minimum, considering the size and scale of these extermination campaigns. Sometimes no one else but the Unifiers suffered, but that was rare

Usually in the smoking ruins of the Unifier bases, there would be a pugio imbedded in the commander's office, made of a silver-steel alloy and looking almost identical to Balthazar's Dagger. Balthazar gave his jacket, but not his dagger when he left Spooks, and he made sure the Hunters should know who they should thank and hate for his deeds.