OPEN MAIN STORY Cosmic Madness -- Conflict in the Lands Between

[Wade von Mackensen]

~~GM~~

The Sentinel didn't stand a chance. While it was able to deflect Taney's gunfire with its shield, once Jill expertly lined up the shot, the knight fell like a tree who's roots could no longer support its own weight. Everyone that attacked after brutalized the Sentinel, bombarded with attacks so fierce and staggering, it was a miracle there was anything left of it once they finally stopped. Its armor was battered, burnt and dented, and when there were no signs of life left in the poor knight, its body began to vanish into a blast of ashes and sparkling dust. Its horse, now without a master, galloped away in fear.

"Very well done," the white masked man said to the team, even clapping for them, "Tree Sentinel's are not easily befallen, but with your combined efforts, it seemed to barely stand a chance. Maybe there is hope for you yet to defeat Godrick." Finally, with a bow, he introduced himself. "I am Varre. Servant to another lord here. You stand along the western borders of Limgrave, one of many sovereignties in The Lands Between. Others like you have appeared across our world, but you are the first to have come through the stone Godrick had obtained not long ago. As for your friend, he remains trapped inside Godrick's liar. In what state, however, is entirely unknown. Unless he has information best suited for Godrick, he may very well end up as yet another Grafted Scion in his growing army."

"Why help us?" Bond asked. There was nothing he could really do to add to the attacks on the Tree Sentinel. It seemed pretty well at hand. "What benefit does it serve you?"

"You are not the only ones after Godrick," Varre answered, "there has been a long-standing conflict between Godrick and his siblings. One of which is my lord. But as well, there are forces from other worlds gathering along our shores to begin their own conquests of our lands. Without aid, we are sure to be overwhelmed. And as our interests align in seeing Godrick fall and the world stone taken from his possession, I offer up my services as a delegation."

 

[Goonfire]

​

Direct hit. Jill kept her rifle trained on the knight until the dust settled and the team confirmed the kill. At the same time, Oliver appeared, somehow among the last people to make it through the crystal. "The General's been captured," she replied gravely to his question. "It only felt like a moment, but it must've been longer over here."

The entire situation felt... problematic; even the problems had problems. Another force was showing up on this continent's shores during a power struggle and the Scattered Corps's invasion? "So Godrick has to prep for war on two fronts? That never works out." People from present-day Earth knew about the most prolific example—a certain angry, insecure little man who split his forces between the Allies and the Soviets in the 1940s. "Who are these 'other forces' though?"

The thought of other lords at conflict with Godrick didn't sit well with the sergeant. Governments often had their secret agendas, and these siblings of his were no different. What exactly did they want, beyond simply stopping Godrick? She kept quiet, but that didn't stop her incredulous glances towards Varre.

 

[Wade von Mackensen]

"They are mostly unknown, even to me. However, I can tell you where they are amassing their forces throughout the continent," Varre answers. "Gates that glow of red have formed across the southern coast of the Weeping Peninsula. The road leading to it can be found west of where we stand now. The demons that march from those gates have taken Castle Morne, but have yet to make any further progress into Limgrave for unknown reasons. In Caelid, the neighboring region further north-east, boats filled with rodent beasts have started plundering what they can of the poisonous swamps, but have made little progress. Caelid is a diseased land that has only brought death as of late, but thankfully now acts as a barrier between The Lands Between and these invaders."

"Such fortune cannot be said for the Altus Plateau. Appearing from the Windmill Pastures, a legion of dark sorcerers and knights have taken miles of land, reaching from The Shaded Castle, all the way to the outer walls of our Royal Capital, Leyndell. Thankfully, the crumbled ruins of the Highway Junction has stopped their march from going any further, and must advance through the Woodfolks ruins. Which has caused them nothing but trouble thus far. Of these nightmarish creatures, I have heard them be named 'Darkspawn.' This is to say nothing of the other lords of these lands. Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy, has begun regathering his strength in the Volcano Manor to begin an offensive against the 'Darkspawn,' while Godrick, once he has successfully defended his home, will begin an invasion of Linuria to take the Academy of Raya Lucaria. I have even heard whispers amongst my lord's scouts that a long-lost child of the nobility has found means to return to these lands from his imprisonment. Messmer. And he will surely bring his army to burn away anything he deems to be stripped of Golden Grace. There are surely more that even I am unaware of."

 

[thesuprememachine]

​

The machine of war rose up from below, it's chassis absorbing the blood of the now vanquished "Sentinel." The enemy was logged into it's database, as the first enemy of this new land to be logged. Which would be useful, as it could now understand Tree Sentinel's much easier for future encounters. The machine's feet still dripped with blood, leaving a trail of red liquid at it's quake. It's emotionless eye showed no remorse, guilt, or joy for killing the foe. For others, some would feel the slightest bit of guilt or pride in their actions. The creature of steel was different. It was designed to be the killing machine, essentially being a weapon. Not essentially, it is a weapon. This was shown in its first battle here. It killed plenty with its bare hands, and even more with a revolver and some coins.

It then initiated its voice protocol, which it had designed over the course of being here. Turns out needing a voice was necessary when actually semi-working in a team. But it always neglected its voice until it really wished to convey something. It was always quiet a good chunk of the time.

VOICE_PROTOCOL ACTIVATING...
INITIATING CONTACT WITH UNIDENTIFIED INDIVIDUAL.

It's head snapped towards the new.. friend? How the creature of steel viewed those around it was always hard to tell. However, it hadn't tried to kill him yet. That was a good sign. It took a few steps forward to them, making direct eye contact as it did. It's neck appendage whirred forward, making it's sight even more focused on him. It then spoke out.

"THESE BEINGS YOU SPEAK OF.. THESE DEMONS, RODENTS, AND EVEN THIS GODRICK INDIVIDUAL." it stopped for a moment, to "play" with a small thing of blood that had yet to be absorbed by its chassis. "DO THEY BLEED? THAT TREE SENTINEL DID. LEADING TO THE ASSUMPTION THAT SO DO ALL THE OTHER CREATURES OF THIS LAND." It's arm went straight up and pointed behind itself, to the vast lands that they had left to travel.

"FROM 1-10, HOW MUCH OF THIS WORLD'S POPULATION CONTAINS BLOOD?"

 

[Girania the Knightess]

Girania​

Girania absorbed the information with relative ease. It made sense that Godrick wasn't the only one with the idea to invade other worlds. She didn't know half of the places mentioned, but these "Darkspawn" sounded a lot like "Voidsent" if the otherworldly demons amassed properly, and were stuck by something as simple as broken architecture. Luckily, by the sound of it, this world's own factions had begun gathering to fight back. Granted, Varre mentioned it was more for conquest, but logically that would end up with the natives and the invaders warring with each other.

Right now, the group's current quest objective should be the main focus. Unless he had been pushed so far back that he and his army is stuck hiding in their own stronghold, there would be little to no interference from the other native warlords. Of course, there was also the possibility of more otherworldly warriors and armies getting in the way, but as a smaller group, unless everyone decided to mercilessly attack any random group of enemies along the way, they should have little trouble handling things... Yes, she did think this right before the automaton started asking about blood. Yes, this bodes ill. One step at a time.

"We also need directions to Godrick's stronghold. With one of us missing, we will need to hurry the mission along in order to find them."

 

[BazusoTheGrey]

"The General's been captured," she replied gravely to his question. "It only felt like a moment, but it must've been longer over here."

"Ah, so I guess we gotta get him back then. Simple enough. So what do yo-"

Hold on

Oliver abruptly pauses, staring directly into Jill's eyes, stock still. His arms which were animate, motioning as he spoke, freeze as well. What is it now?

You're a lieutenant. What's that got to do with anything? You outrank her. Ok? So? A lieutenant should not be seen taking orders from a subordinate. It would be unseemly. Motherfucker, you know that guy gave us that rank for like no reason right? How can you be so sure? You know that we are suffering from brain damage. You likely forgot the actual reason for our promotion, too preoccupied that you are with remembering names when you should focus on ranks. In any case, we- Aight before this continues, Oliver has paused for 5 entire seconds, please just carry on. Dude, the last time blue had a moment like this we got like six of our coworkers dead. Come on, they were a bunch of grade 9s anyway, besides Oliver got the other four out just fine, let blue have this. Fine, fuck.

Oliver suddenly continues, after a slight twitch with the head piece. That ain't good, "Never mind, carry on... subordinate. I will pass it along to our captain then." Oliver's intonation is very un-Oliver like. That is to say, it suddenly became deeper and lost a majority of its casual tone. Oliver begins to regret his decisions in real time.

Well, whatever. After doing a textbook about-face, the Fixer marches toward their group's captain and stands ramrod straight next to her silently, almost uncomfortably close. His Zweihander rests on his shoulder as if he were in a... parade stance, such as in the book 'Ancient History - for Kids' Chapter 6/59, 'Precursors to the modern-day Fixer'.

...When did we read that?

 

[LenxKaitoYaoi]

As the fight ended rather swiftly, Ziv took this brief encounter as a chance to at least better get acquainted with his fellow scattered's powers. Again, they proved themselves quite capable, no doubt behind what he could do. Their weaponry and technology continued to surprise and fascinate him. But that could be dealt with later.

Instead, the person that snuck up on them spoke up again to introduce themselves and explain further their situation. He didn't entirely like what he was hearing, though. They weren't the only other world travelers that have arrived to take on Godrick, and these others seem to have agendas of their own as well. A bit of information that could prove problematic for everyone… If anything, he almost felt bad for Godrick.

The crazy being from earlier spoke, cause Ziv to raise a brow. This one concerned him out of everyone so far. Bloodthirsty… with no true allegiance to anyone. It could prove to slaughter them all at any given time should it be left unchecked. Another problem.

He tilted his head at Oliver's pause, but given the man's ultimate decision not to press whatever he had been thinking about, he moved on. Thankfully there was another voice of reason among them, so when Girania spoke up, he nodded in agreement. She had the right of it, there was too much going on for them to try tackling it all. One thing at a time was going to be hard enough, but their missing ally should be priority right now. They'll need him. Probably. "Agreed. Having all of us together would be better before we start trying to take on any other objectives or battles."

 

[Wade von Mackensen]

View attachment 267890​

The machine of war rose up from below, it's chassis absorbing the blood of the now vanquished "Sentinel." The enemy was logged into it's database, as the first enemy of this new land to be logged. Which would be useful, as it could now understand Tree Sentinel's much easier for future encounters. The machine's feet still dripped with blood, leaving a trail of red liquid at it's quake. It's emotionless eye showed no remorse, guilt, or joy for killing the foe. For others, some would feel the slightest bit of guilt or pride in their actions. The creature of steel was different. It was designed to be the killing machine, essentially being a weapon. Not essentially, it is a weapon. This was shown in its first battle here. It killed plenty with its bare hands, and even more with a revolver and some coins.

It then initiated its voice protocol, which it had designed over the course of being here. Turns out needing a voice was necessary when actually semi-working in a team. But it always neglected its voice until it really wished to convey something. It was always quiet a good chunk of the time.

VOICE_PROTOCOL ACTIVATING...
INITIATING CONTACT WITH UNIDENTIFIED INDIVIDUAL.

It's head snapped towards the new.. friend? How the creature of steel viewed those around it was always hard to tell. However, it hadn't tried to kill him yet. That was a good sign. It took a few steps forward to them, making direct eye contact as it did. It's neck appendage whirred forward, making it's sight even more focused on him. It then spoke out.

"THESE BEINGS YOU SPEAK OF.. THESE DEMONS, RODENTS, AND EVEN THIS GODRICK INDIVIDUAL." it stopped for a moment, to "play" with a small thing of blood that had yet to be absorbed by its chassis. "DO THEY BLEED? THAT TREE SENTINEL DID. LEADING TO THE ASSUMPTION THAT SO DO ALL THE OTHER CREATURES OF THIS LAND." It's arm went straight up and pointed behind itself, to the vast lands that they had left to travel.

"FROM 1-10, HOW MUCH OF THIS WORLD'S POPULATION CONTAINS BLOOD?"

"Oh, quite a lot of it," Varre answered V1, his tone lowering in revelry, "you will find many beings here that bleed. The only few that don't are Those Who Live in Death. Vile creatures that are born from the now unholy remains of a former lord of this land. Godwyn the Golden." It was V1's psychotic fascination with the blood it played between its fingers that caused Varre's interest in the cyborg to grow.

Could they be another 'scattered' to receive his lords Favor? Only time would tell.

Girania​

Girania absorbed the information with relative ease. It made sense that Godrick wasn't the only one with the idea to invade other worlds. She didn't know half of the places mentioned, but these "Darkspawn" sounded a lot like "Voidsent" if the otherworldly demons amassed properly, and were stuck by something as simple as broken architecture. Luckily, by the sound of it, this world's own factions had begun gathering to fight back. Granted, Varre mentioned it was more for conquest, but logically that would end up with the natives and the invaders warring with each other.

Right now, the group's current quest objective should be the main focus. Unless he had been pushed so far back that he and his army is stuck hiding in their own stronghold, there would be little to no interference from the other native warlords. Of course, there was also the possibility of more otherworldly warriors and armies getting in the way, but as a smaller group, unless everyone decided to mercilessly attack any random group of enemies along the way, they should have little trouble handling things... Yes, she did think this right before the automaton started asking about blood. Yes, this bodes ill. One step at a time.

"We also need directions to Godrick's stronghold. With one of us missing, we will need to hurry the mission along in order to find them."

As the fight ended rather swiftly, Ziv took this brief encounter as a chance to at least better get acquainted with his fellow scattered's powers. Again, they proved themselves quite capable, no doubt behind what he could do. Their weaponry and technology continued to surprise and fascinate him. But that could be dealt with later.

Instead, the person that snuck up on them spoke up again to introduce themselves and explain further their situation. He didn't entirely like what he was hearing, though. They weren't the only other world travelers that have arrived to take on Godrick, and these others seem to have agendas of their own as well. A bit of information that could prove problematic for everyone… If anything, he almost felt bad for Godrick.

The crazy being from earlier spoke, cause Ziv to raise a brow. This one concerned him out of everyone so far. Bloodthirsty… with no true allegiance to anyone. It could prove to slaughter them all at any given time should it be left unchecked. Another problem.

He tilted his head at Oliver's pause, but given the man's ultimate decision not to press whatever he had been thinking about, he moved on. Thankfully there was another voice of reason among them, so when Girania spoke up, he nodded in agreement. She had the right of it, there was too much going on for them to try tackling it all. One thing at a time was going to be hard enough, but their missing ally should be priority right now. They'll need him. Probably. "Agreed. Having all of us together would be better before we start trying to take on any other objectives or battles."

"Yes, I don't suppose you would have a map on you, would you?" Bond chimed in with Ziv and Girania. Who knows how much time de Wiart had as captive in a mad lords dungeon.

"Indeed I do!" Varre exclaimed happily, pulling out a weathered map from his pockets and handing it over to Bond to unfold.

​

"So if we're here," Bond pointed to where they were on the map, right at the eastern edge of the lake, "then once we pass that church across the way, we just follow the road all the way to the castle walls. Then go from there on how to infiltrate it. I take it we can expect heavy traffic?" Bond asked Varre.

"There is an encampment that guards the gate leading through the pass, but after that, I could not say how guarded the roads become." Varre answered.

 

[Rolling Steel Brick]

~~GM~~

The Sentinel didn't stand a chance. While it was able to deflect Taney's gunfire with its shield, once Jill expertly lined up the shot, the knight fell like a tree who's roots could no longer support its own weight. Everyone that attacked after brutalized the Sentinel, bombarded with attacks so fierce and staggering, it was a miracle there was anything left of it once they finally stopped. Its armor was battered, burnt and dented, and when there were no signs of life left in the poor knight, its body began to vanish into a blast of ashes and sparkling dust. Its horse, now without a master, galloped away in fear.

"Very well done," the white masked man said to the team, even clapping for them, "Tree Sentinel's are not easily befallen, but with your combined efforts, it seemed to barely stand a chance. Maybe there is hope for you yet to defeat Godrick." Finally, with a bow, he introduced himself. "I am Varre. Servant to another lord here. You stand along the western borders of Limgrave, one of many sovereignties in The Lands Between. Others like you have appeared across our world, but you are the first to have come through the stone Godrick had obtained not long ago. As for your friend, he remains trapped inside Godrick's liar. In what state, however, is entirely unknown. Unless he has information best suited for Godrick, he may very well end up as yet another Grafted Scion in his growing army."

"Why help us?" Bond asked. There was nothing he could really do to add to the attacks on the Tree Sentinel. It seemed pretty well at hand. "What benefit does it serve you?"

"You are not the only ones after Godrick," Varre answered, "there has been a long-standing conflict between Godrick and his siblings. One of which is my lord. But as well, there are forces from other worlds gathering along our shores to begin their own conquests of our lands. Without aid, we are sure to be overwhelmed. And as our interests align in seeing Godrick fall and the world stone taken from his possession, I offer up my services as a delegation."

Semper Paratus
​

Taney held her position for a brief moment, as she kept her main gun and Brownings trained on the Sentinel's corpse, then on the horse that fled after its rider's body disappeared in a light show. When the gilded animal disappeared over the hills, the cutter-turned-human slowly set her gun back into its place on her rigging. She could feel her body relax slightly - and by proxy, her crew - but she didn't let her guard down as she looked around. Painfully obvious to her eyes was not the urbanized port city of Baltimore, but instead rolling hills of grass, trees, and ancient ruins every so hundred feet.

The Coast Guard cutter took in her first proper breath as a human, a strange dichotomy between her newfound flesh and her innate steel hull - her twin boilers calmed down as her body loosened up. It felt strange to feel fabric on skin, the light breeze against her face, or the sensation of her weird footwear that dug into the dirt below her. For all that she was told about being a shipgirl by others, it was another whole deal to experience it for herself. Unfortunately, she would have to marvel her new senses later - she needed questions and there were people who could answer it.

"You guys there?" Taney asked, not to herself but to the crew inside her. A moment passed before someone responded.

Hey, hey, hey?

Her captain, and Taney wasn't sure which captain they were or if they were a composite amalgamation, had piped up. Despite their strange method of communication, the cutter could clearly understood what was said. A simple greeting and question. Rather than respond out loud like a madwoman-boat-thing, Taney tried to "mentally" continue the conversation.

So captain, Taney started, mind if you tell me how's everything on board? Crew and all?

It didn't take long as Taney received a laundry list of reports from her crew. As far as they knew, her stocks of ammo and supplies were full, her crew at top readiness, and she had been summoned as her 1966 refit. A surprise since most ships either came with their launch configuration or a late-war refit. None, at least from what Taney knew, were summoned in a post-WWII refit. Not even the museum ships, regardless if their intact hulls showed otherwise.

While a far cry from her godforsaken pre-WWII armaments - Taney would rather not have to use those old open-mount guns - there wasn't anything special about it aside from her radar and FCS. It did mean that her crew at least had relatively modern guns (compared to the 40s) stocked on her armory. Didn't stop from some of her crew members desire to actually have those souped up M4 carbines or a fancy autoloading shotgun. For now, retro M16A1 rifles and Ithaca shotguns will have to do.

Hey hey hey hey!

Right, the group of strange people and the potential for answers for what was going on.

With lookouts ready to alert Taney, the shipgirl briskly jogged over to where the congregation was. Every step left Taney bewildered, not at the fact she walked on land with propeller shoes with rudders, but that she had plain view of the people before her as she got closer. An eclectic mix of individuals of both the mundane and weird. The armed woman in the jacket was hardly a double-take sight nor was the other relatively normal-looking people any stranger than the land around Taney; though that Japanese woman had an odd firearm on hand, that large guy in black had something more to him, and the fantasy-dressed girl was... well dressed up like fantasy character... and also had furry bunny ears.

There was also the blue robot with a singular eye, someone who looked like they should be on a scifi drama set, and the robed masked weirdo that set off one too many red flags for Taney's comfort. The last member of the group, however, drew the both the cutter and her crew's attention. Clad in a fancy suit that look fresh and crisp in spite of the environment, with a look that had seduced more than fair number of ladies, and a rap sheet of foiling one too many Cold War plots was James Bond himself.

Or rather, the actor, Taney corrected herself. While her crew and herself had enjoyed plenty of films, as it was one of the few ways they stayed sane on those mind numbing ocean weather station runs, the shipgirl wasn't a huge film nerd like others. And she only had experience with the old films when she was still in service. Some faces she could put a name to, but not consistently so and not all of them. Thankfully, her crew was on the ball as they broke into excited whispers.

Hey heyhey hey hey hey-

"Christ, hold it guys," Taney muttered as she rubbed her temples. Too many voices, too much excitement. And one too many accusations of being an 'unenlightened soul' to the world of film history. "I get it, I get it, he's fuckin' Roger Moore, sue my ass."

The sight of the suited actor was an oddity, next to the people that looked like they could handle themselves. Taney could even spy the iconic suppressed pistol on him, which made some of her crew squeak in a few excited hey's. The cutter rolled her eyes as she scaled up the shallow grassy ramp to led to the group, a large and ancient square temple of stone behind them.

"Taney, United States Coast Guard," Taney said towards the group as she approached, her voice thick with authority as befitted of a patrol cutter. "'preciate the help with that knight back there. But I'd also appreciate if someone tells me what the hell is going on here."

She crossed her arms as she eyed the gathered people, her five-inch naval gun raised and pointed away from them. Though, she didn't cut an intimidating look with her short height, vintage navy uniform, and a youthful look that would have people mistaken her for a teenager.

"Hey!" another voice, high-pitched and feminine, shouted out. Taney glanced over to her left shoulder as she spotted one of her crew members, finally in person. Their appearance fit with what everyone back home had described them - small, androgygnous, always speaks a one word langauge decipherable by shipgirls alone, and matched the nationality of the ship. In Taney's case, the "fairy" crewmember that was on her shoulder was one of her enlisted sailors based off the patch on their dark undress blues. In their hands made Taney sigh.

"... and one of my crew would like to have, er, your autograph, sir," Taney said towards James Bond, not knowing that he was in fact not Roger Moore but the real deal.

 

[BazusoTheGrey]

"So if we're here," Bond pointed to where they were on the map, right at the eastern edge of the lake, "then once we pass that church across the way, we just follow the road all the way to the castle walls. Then go from there on how to infiltrate it. I take it we can expect heavy traffic?" Bond asked Varre.

"There is an encampment that guards the gate leading through the pass, but after that, I could not say how guarded the roads become." Varre answered.

The Fixer continued to stand ramrod still next to his... Captain, as they began talking to the masked guy about the surrounding area. In fact, the Fixer turned lieutenant was actually glowering at said guy while the rest talked at him. For what reason why? Only The Wings would know.

As the Captain's subordinate it is our imperative to assist her in her tasks. As she is questioning this suspect, it is only right that we play as the, 'bad cop' as Temperance would put it. As the suspect is sharing all of the information he knows, it is clearly working.

...uuuuuuuuuhhhhh, we can't actually tell, the guy hasn't changed posture, voice pitch or anything, like, once. A-Anyway that's beside the point, you're literally just standing here for no reason dude. Like, we could be doing anything right now... like, you know, talking with our coworkers, maintaining our equipment, that sorta thing? Like, there's an entirely new co-worker down there with a freaking gun attached to her hips, she's probably fucking rich or something man.

Hm, perhaps. But as the Captain's subordinate we would likely need to be granted leave before doing so, as this is her primary task-

"Taney, United States Coast Guard," Taney said towards the group as she approached, her voice thick with authority as befitted of a patrol cutter. "'preciate the help with that knight back there. But I'd also appreciate if someone tells me what the hell is going on here."

"... and one of my crew would like to have, er, your autograph, sir," Taney said towards James Bond, not knowing that he was in fact not Roger Moore but the real deal.

-then as her lieutenant, we must dispatch with tertiary distractions.

Yeah that's a better use of our time... wait DISPATCH?!

As the thought completes itself, Oliver has already turned around and is currently marching toward the lady in a fast and robotic pace. His Zweihander held in both hands, rests on the shoulder of his raincoat. Honestly speaking, if he installed red LEDs for the headpiece instead of the discount yellow ones, he'd make a really good Sweeper impression. Regardless, he's looking real spooky right now.

Wait, hold up, hold up. Just to be clear, you don't mean, dispatch, dispatch, right?!

Walking directly towards the girl Oliver bumps past Bond and mechanically stops, standing directly in front of him and just a couple paces away from the girl. Staring almost balefully downward towards the girl, he raises one mechanical limb, his left one, with full authority, hand in an open palm directly in front of her face. Raising his voice box's volume to the max, he announces out, "Your request for an autograph is denied as this is both the improper time and you have offered less than the stipulated amount of funds. If you would like an autograph, please join the line opening at 23:30 and ending at 23:59 with the required 1 million Ahn for the entry fee, and the requisite 2 million Ahn for the autograph itself. As an employee of this company, however, it is advised that you also bring identification for a 5% discount. Thank you."

 

[thesuprememachine]

​

The machine of war looked at Varre, now pleased with the fact that blood here is just as plentiful as it was back in Hell and on the Other Earth. The machine looked out into the vast distance, making some quick analyzations. But it was then cut off rather quickly, after seeing the woman who had initiated the combat between the group and the Tree Sentinel. She made her way forwards to the group, while muttering something under her breath that it's sensors couldn't quite pick up. It's optical sensor zoomed in on to her, trying to read her lips for further information; it couldn't quite make out what she had been saying. But it didn't seem like she was talking to herself.

She then made herself known to the group, stating her name and status. The machine knew about what used to be the United States Coast Guard. It had been pumped with knowledge about every nations army and government to know who it was fighting in the Great War, well, supposed to. It never saw any action on the battlements. The creature of steel watched Taney point her rather large gun away, rather interested in it. It made note to ask about it sooner or later.

V1 was smart, but it wasn't knowledgeable about social clues, but something told it now was a good time to also introduce itself. "AH, APOLOGIES. I AM MODEL VERSION-1, THE ONLY OF MY KIND TO BE PRODUCED. BUT IF YOU MAY, CALL ME 'V1'." V1's robotic voice rung out, still very much outdated for its complexity of its mechanisms and processors. It finally wiped the metallic blood off its fingers and onto its legs, and then pointed at its blue chest plate.

It's attention then turned to what Taney said to be her crew member behind the rest of the group, hurry towards them shouting out to them. Apparently, they wanted an autograph from the suited man. It's head slowly turned to him, who referred to himself as James Bond, trying to analyze him and how he was of importance for people to want an autograph.

> INITIALIZING INDIVIDUAL ANALYZATION...
> ERROR. UNABLE TO LOCATE FACIAL PATTERNS IN DATABASE. INDIVIDUAL IS NOT LOGGED IN DATABASE.
> LOG INDIVIDUAL? Y/N
> Y
> LOGGING...

So, the machines search was unsuccessful. Peculiar. Who was this man? Had the two of them been from the same universe, and maybe he was a person of respect and fame? It's processors whirred loudly, using its strong computing power to figure out everything it could.

It was, once again, interrupted. It was what seemed to behave like another machine, but had to been a much older model than itself. It moved rather stiffly, unlike the other machines it saw in Hell, with the exception of the Drones. Those had been made with accuracy in mind, not flexibility.

They behaved almost like a bodyguard of sorts, but it was hard to tell if they actually were Bond's bodyguard or was just automatically protecting the highest ranking person in the group. But, when it watched the way it behaved with Taney, it reactively lifted its hand and smacked its front portion of its head.

>"..HOW OLD IS THIS GUY?" The machine thought to itself.

 

[Otomos]

It seems that this land was much like Chika's homeland, currently called Heathmoor by the Knights: filled with seemingly endless wars. And much like her homeland, this place too was not allowed to be idle for a long amount of time. From the surrounding area and ruins alone, Chika could glean that the had been large battles waged here. Ruins and overgrowth imply that nature had attempted to retake what people had built, destroyed, and abandoned. They were signs thet there was a lull in the conflict that persisted for a long time. But this man in the mask explained that somehow large-scale war has begun again. This made her spirits restless. They wished to dance among the newly dead warriors and beasts as they drag them into the mass.

The individuals surrounding her spoke of random things. For a moment, they spoke of possible routes, but then proceeded to get sidetracked by Bond somehow. Chika knew not who the man was, nor did she care. he was another member of this group, and if the asked man were to be believed, they may end up walking right into the conflict of several armies. So, despite her hoarse voice and pestering spirits, she struggled to speak her mind.

"Must... act soon. War is... here."

She had to gasp between her sentences, as the pain of several days and nights of screaming and shouting returned with every word.

"We cannot be stuck... in an unrelated battle."

 

[Wade von Mackensen]

~~GM~~

~~GM~~

The Sentinel didn't stand a chance. While it was able to deflect Taney's gunfire with its shield, once Jill expertly lined up the shot, the knight fell like a tree who's roots could no longer support its own weight. Everyone that attacked after brutalized the Sentinel, bombarded with attacks so fierce and staggering, it was a miracle there was anything left of it once they finally stopped. Its armor was battered, burnt and dented, and when there were no signs of life left in the poor knight, its body began to vanish into a blast of ashes and sparkling dust. Its horse, now without a master, galloped away in fear.

"Very well done," the white masked man said to the team, even clapping for them, "Tree Sentinel's are not easily befallen, but with your combined efforts, it seemed to barely stand a chance. Maybe there is hope for you yet to defeat Godrick." Finally, with a bow, he introduced himself. "I am Varre. Servant to another lord here. You stand along the western borders of Limgrave, one of many sovereignties in The Lands Between. Others like you have appeared across our world, but you are the first to have come through the stone Godrick had obtained not long ago. As for your friend, he remains trapped inside Godrick's liar. In what state, however, is entirely unknown. Unless he has information best suited for Godrick, he may very well end up as yet another Grafted Scion in his growing army."

"Why help us?" Bond asked. There was nothing he could really do to add to the attacks on the Tree Sentinel. It seemed pretty well at hand. "What benefit does it serve you?"

"You are not the only ones after Godrick," Varre answered, "there has been a long-standing conflict between Godrick and his siblings. One of which is my lord. But as well, there are forces from other worlds gathering along our shores to begin their own conquests of our lands. Without aid, we are sure to be overwhelmed. And as our interests align in seeing Godrick fall and the world stone taken from his possession, I offer up my services as a delegation."

View attachment 268348
Semper Paratus
​

Taney held her position for a brief moment, as she kept her main gun and Brownings trained on the Sentinel's corpse, then on the horse that fled after its rider's body disappeared in a light show. When the gilded animal disappeared over the hills, the cutter-turned-human slowly set her gun back into its place on her rigging. She could feel her body relax slightly - and by proxy, her crew - but she didn't let her guard down as she looked around. Painfully obvious to her eyes was not the urbanized port city of Baltimore, but instead rolling hills of grass, trees, and ancient ruins every so hundred feet.

The Coast Guard cutter took in her first proper breath as a human, a strange dichotomy between her newfound flesh and her innate steel hull - her twin boilers calmed down as her body loosened up. It felt strange to feel fabric on skin, the light breeze against her face, or the sensation of her weird footwear that dug into the dirt below her. For all that she was told about being a shipgirl by others, it was another whole deal to experience it for herself. Unfortunately, she would have to marvel her new senses later - she needed questions and there were people who could answer it.

"You guys there?" Taney asked, not to herself but to the crew inside her. A moment passed before someone responded.

Hey, hey, hey?

Her captain, and Taney wasn't sure which captain they were or if they were a composite amalgamation, had piped up. Despite their strange method of communication, the cutter could clearly understood what was said. A simple greeting and question. Rather than respond out loud like a madwoman-boat-thing, Taney tried to "mentally" continue the conversation.

So captain, Taney started, mind if you tell me how's everything on board? Crew and all?

It didn't take long as Taney received a laundry list of reports from her crew. As far as they knew, her stocks of ammo and supplies were full, her crew at top readiness, and she had been summoned as her 1966 refit. A surprise since most ships either came with their launch configuration or a late-war refit. None, at least from what Taney knew, were summoned in a post-WWII refit. Not even the museum ships, regardless if their intact hulls showed otherwise.

While a far cry from her godforsaken pre-WWII armaments - Taney would rather not have to use those old open-mount guns - there wasn't anything special about it aside from her radar and FCS. It did mean that her crew at least had relatively modern guns (compared to the 40s) stocked on her armory. Didn't stop from some of her crew members desire to actually have those souped up M4 carbines or a fancy autoloading shotgun. For now, retro M16A1 rifles and Ithaca shotguns will have to do.

Hey hey hey hey!

Right, the group of strange people and the potential for answers for what was going on.

With lookouts ready to alert Taney, the shipgirl briskly jogged over to where the congregation was. Every step left Taney bewildered, not at the fact she walked on land with propeller shoes with rudders, but that she had plain view of the people before her as she got closer. An eclectic mix of individuals of both the mundane and weird. The armed woman in the jacket was hardly a double-take sight nor was the other relatively normal-looking people any stranger than the land around Taney; though that Japanese woman had an odd firearm on hand, that large guy in black had something more to him, and the fantasy-dressed girl was... well dressed up like fantasy character... and also had furry bunny ears.

There was also the blue robot with a singular eye, someone who looked like they should be on a scifi drama set, and the robed masked weirdo that set off one too many red flags for Taney's comfort. The last member of the group, however, drew the both the cutter and her crew's attention. Clad in a fancy suit that look fresh and crisp in spite of the environment, with a look that had seduced more than fair number of ladies, and a rap sheet of foiling one too many Cold War plots was James Bond himself.

Or rather, the actor, Taney corrected herself. While her crew and herself had enjoyed plenty of films, as it was one of the few ways they stayed sane on those mind numbing ocean weather station runs, the shipgirl wasn't a huge film nerd like others. And she only had experience with the old films when she was still in service. Some faces she could put a name to, but not consistently so and not all of them. Thankfully, her crew was on the ball as they broke into excited whispers.

Hey heyhey hey hey hey-

"Christ, hold it guys," Taney muttered as she rubbed her temples. Too many voices, too much excitement. And one too many accusations of being an 'unenlightened soul' to the world of film history. "I get it, I get it, he's fuckin' Roger Moore, sue my ass."

The sight of the suited actor was an oddity, next to the people that looked like they could handle themselves. Taney could even spy the iconic suppressed pistol on him, which made some of her crew squeak in a few excited hey's. The cutter rolled her eyes as she scaled up the shallow grassy ramp to led to the group, a large and ancient square temple of stone behind them.

"Taney, United States Coast Guard," Taney said towards the group as she approached, her voice thick with authority as befitted of a patrol cutter. "'preciate the help with that knight back there. But I'd also appreciate if someone tells me what the hell is going on here."

She crossed her arms as she eyed the gathered people, her five-inch naval gun raised and pointed away from them. Though, she didn't cut an intimidating look with her short height, vintage navy uniform, and a youthful look that would have people mistaken her for a teenager.

"Hey!" another voice, high-pitched and feminine, shouted out. Taney glanced over to her left shoulder as she spotted one of her crew members, finally in person. Their appearance fit with what everyone back home had described them - small, androgygnous, always speaks a one word langauge decipherable by shipgirls alone, and matched the nationality of the ship. In Taney's case, the "fairy" crewmember that was on her shoulder was one of her enlisted sailors based off the patch on their dark undress blues. In their hands made Taney sigh.

"... and one of my crew would like to have, er, your autograph, sir," Taney said towards James Bond, not knowing that he was in fact not Roger Moore but the real deal.

"So if we're here," Bond pointed to where they were on the map, right at the eastern edge of the lake, "then once we pass that church across the way, we just follow the road all the way to the castle walls. Then go from there on how to infiltrate it. I take it we can expect heavy traffic?" Bond asked Varre.

"There is an encampment that guards the gate leading through the pass, but after that, I could not say how guarded the roads become." Varre answered.

The Fixer continued to stand ramrod still next to his... Captain, as they began talking to the masked guy about the surrounding area. In fact, the Fixer turned lieutenant was actually glowering at said guy while the rest talked at him. For what reason why? Only The Wings would know.

As the Captain's subordinate it is our imperative to assist her in her tasks. As she is questioning this suspect, it is only right that we play as the, 'bad cop' as Temperance would put it. As the suspect is sharing all of the information he knows, it is clearly working.

...uuuuuuuuuhhhhh, we can't actually tell, the guy hasn't changed posture, voice pitch or anything, like, once. A-Anyway that's beside the point, you're literally just standing here for no reason dude. Like, we could be doing anything right now... like, you know, talking with our coworkers, maintaining our equipment, that sorta thing? Like, there's an entirely new co-worker down there with a freaking gun attached to her hips, she's probably fucking rich or something man.

Hm, perhaps. But as the Captain's subordinate we would likely need to be granted leave before doing so, as this is her primary task-

"Taney, United States Coast Guard," Taney said towards the group as she approached, her voice thick with authority as befitted of a patrol cutter. "'preciate the help with that knight back there. But I'd also appreciate if someone tells me what the hell is going on here."

"... and one of my crew would like to have, er, your autograph, sir," Taney said towards James Bond, not knowing that he was in fact not Roger Moore but the real deal.

-then as her lieutenant, we must dispatch with tertiary distractions.

Yeah that's a better use of our time... wait DISPATCH?!

As the thought completes itself, Oliver has already turned around and is currently marching toward the lady in a fast and robotic pace. His Zweihander held in both hands, rests on the shoulder of his raincoat. Honestly speaking, if he installed red LEDs for the headpiece instead of the discount yellow ones, he'd make a really good Sweeper impression. Regardless, he's looking real spooky right now.

Wait, hold up, hold up. Just to be clear, you don't mean, dispatch, dispatch, right?!

Walking directly towards the girl Oliver bumps past Bond and mechanically stops, standing directly in front of him and just a couple paces away from the girl. Staring almost balefully downward towards the girl, he raises one mechanical limb, his left one, with full authority, hand in an open palm directly in front of her face. Raising his voice box's volume to the max, he announces out, "Your request for an autograph is denied as this is both the improper time and you have offered less than the stipulated amount of funds. If you would like an autograph, please join the line opening at 23:30 and ending at 23:59 with the required 1 million Ahn for the entry fee, and the requisite 2 million Ahn for the autograph itself. As an employee of this company, however, it is advised that you also bring identification for a 5% discount. Thank you."

This was... new for Bond. Not only had no one ever asked for his autograph, but it was even more surprising, Oliver decided to play a carny and ask for money first before Bond would give her one. And, maybe it was because Bond was brand new to all this multiverse nonsense, but somehow even more surprisingly, he recognized the insignia on Taney's armor. That was a U.S. Naval insignia for the warship Coast Guard Cutter 37, the only surviving ship from the attack on Pearl Harbor.

It's not every day you find a version of a US warship that's dressed like a Japanese school girl. "One moment, Oliver," Bond interrupted the cyborg upon finishing the terms required for a autograph. "Much as I appreciate your.... business vernacular. Given the situation we find ourselves, particularly of Miss Taney, I see no reason why we cannot have this transaction be paid for in other services. Such as joining our little crew of misfits to 'pay off' the debt." Bond gave a little smirk to Taney, before winking to her and grabbing the pen and paper.

"United States Coast Guard... Either your parents set you up on that career path when naming you, or... may I presume you to be the historical ship of the US Navy?" Bond asked, handing her back the paper with both his signature, and a note underneath:

'James Bond,

On her Majesty's Secret Service.'
"And before you ask; yes, I am The James Bond." He clarified, although not because Taney thought he was actually Moore, but because he had heard there was 'another' Bond somewhere in all this madness. (Wonder which one...)

It seems that this land was much like Chika's homeland, currently called Heathmoor by the Knights: filled with seemingly endless wars. And much like her homeland, this place too was not allowed to be idle for a long amount of time. From the surrounding area and ruins alone, Chika could glean that the had been large battles waged here. Ruins and overgrowth imply that nature had attempted to retake what people had built, destroyed, and abandoned. They were signs thet there was a lull in the conflict that persisted for a long time. But this man in the mask explained that somehow large-scale war has begun again. This made her spirits restless. They wished to dance among the newly dead warriors and beasts as they drag them into the mass.

The individuals surrounding her spoke of random things. For a moment, they spoke of possible routes, but then proceeded to get sidetracked by Bond somehow. Chika knew not who the man was, nor did she care. he was another member of this group, and if the asked man were to be believed, they may end up walking right into the conflict of several armies. So, despite her hoarse voice and pestering spirits, she struggled to speak her mind.

"Must... act soon. War is... here."

She had to gasp between her sentences, as the pain of several days and nights of screaming and shouting returned with every word.

"We cannot be stuck... in an unrelated battle."

Chika was right, they had spent too long here and the day was getting shorter. The sun was beginning to set, and who knew what sort of creatures lurked out in this wilderness during the night. The church seemed like a possible location to camp in, but the decision would have to be a group one. It wasn't too far from where they were along the hilltop, maybe two to three dozen paces across, with a pathway leading straight towards it. And it seemed they would be met by someone already waiting there.

Out the corner of his eye, Bond thought he saw something flashing. When he turned his head towards the church front entrance, he could see the figure of someone standing there, waving a reflective item in his hand to shine a light at them. "Well then," Varre spoke up as he noticed the flashing himself, "it seems more of your 'displaced' compatriots are awaiting you. I must be off myself, as there are tasks to be done for the protection of my lord's lands. I bid you all farewell, and may our paths cross again! Especially with you," he said to V1, "my lord would take quite a liking of you, should you find yourself in need of blood."

With that, Varre disappeared into a stream of golden light without warning. Although, a message appeared on the ground where he stood.

'Seek out Tarnished, beckoned by lost grace. They will lead you to the Ashen Capital.'

---

When the group finally began to move, Bond was first to head for the church. Varre, so far, hadn't steered them wrong, and if he said there were 'scattered' in this world, then finding them would be useful in rescuing de Wiart. And sure enough, the figure standing before the entrance to the ruins of the church didn't appear to fit this world.

​

"Blessings of the nine be upon you!" The old man called out to the group, waving at them with a cheerful expression. "I figured such magic like that didn't belong in this world. Yet, by your arrival, I doubt you ended up stranded on this world like the rest of us by a bombardment of light. I am Jauffre, Grandmaster of an ancient order on my world. My fellow scattered have taken refuge inside this church, and you are more than welcome to join us for the night."

 

[BazusoTheGrey]

They behaved almost like a bodyguard of sorts, but it was hard to tell if they actually were Bond's bodyguard or was just automatically protecting the highest ranking person in the group. But, when it watched the way it behaved with Taney, it reactively lifted its hand and smacked its front portion of its head.

My guy, my man, our motherfucking BRAINS, you LITERALLY just made a straight up robot face palm at us!
I do not see the issue in our actions. We are merely following the conditions under our contract with Gyeren Studios in bodyguarding their prized celebrity.
Wait wha- MOTHERFU-

"One moment, Oliver," Bond interrupted the cyborg upon finishing the terms required for a autograph. "Much as I appreciate your.... business vernacular. Given the situation we find ourselves, particularly of Miss Taney, I see no reason why we cannot have this transaction be paid for in other services. Such as joining our little crew of misfits to 'pay off' the debt." Bond gave a little smirk to Taney, before winking to her and grabbing the pen and paper.

As Bond goes to grab the paper from the girl, Oliver, who seems to be confusing him with a past client, stops him by putting one respectful hand on Bond's shoulder.

"Mr. Bond, under Gyeren Studio company guideline S.15(2.11)(c)(i), of which was reviewed by the Öufi Association and agree-"

Yeah, nah, get out of the drivers seat, I'm next.
What. Stop! What is the meaning of this!
You're gonna bog us down on this fucking hill and embarrass us dumbass, MOVE OVER.

Suddenly, Oliver's head twitches again, albeit much more violently this time around before staring back into Bond's face. His posture immediately slumps forward as he does so, his hand quickly morphing into a hasty thumbs up as he says in a reedy voice, "Nah, I'm just uh, just uh, fucking with you man, that's a good idea, ha ha ha... wait reedy?" He paused, as he realizes that yes, he has in fact changed his vocalizer's settings unconsciously, again. "no I don't sound fucki- Uh, I mean." He turns back to Bond, then the girl, then back to Bond. "I'm just- gonna go now, uhhhhh sorry lady about the rules stuff, just a bout of deja vu or whatever." Awkwardly, he sidles away back to his previous position next to the team's captain, albeit at a much more respectful distance from the lady.

If you truly wish to direct the actions of our body, then it is likely a good idea for us to alert our co-workers on our present status. Perhaps you should share with Captain Girania about our immediate need for brain fluid. On review of my previous actions, our cognitive ability seems to be failing.

"Naaaaaaaah, its uh, its totally fine just gotta hold on a bit like always." Oliver responds, quietly to himself, "Fucking, no I don't." He responds again, slightly louder. "...Aight ok, yeah, maybe I should, fine."

Turning to the Captain of the group, he awkwardly reaches a hand out to her shoulder before putting it down and deciding its better to just keep it at his side, "Uhhhh, Miss Girania, I kinda got an issue going on if you didn't notice." He pauses, then he continues, "Look, I'm kinda in need of brain fluid right now, so whenever the next group of guys come to kill us, can you just like, stop our coworkers a bit so I can resupply? I'd appreciate it."

---

When the group finally began to move, Bond was first to head for the church. Varre, so far, hadn't steered them wrong, and if he said there were 'scattered' in this world, then finding them would be useful in rescuing de Wiart. And sure enough, the figure standing before the entrance to the ruins of the church didn't appear to fit this world.

​

"Blessings of the nine be upon you, my friends!" The old man called out to the group, waving at them with a cheerful expression. "I figured such magic like that didn't belong in this world. Yet, by your arrival, I doubt you ended up stranded on this world like the rest of us by a bombardment of light. I am Jauffre, Grandmaster of an ancient order on my world. My fellow scattered have taken refuge inside this church, and you are more than welcome to join us for the night."

While the older man greeted the group, Oliver elected to just stare mildly miffed at the guy. For once, he hoped that he was wrong in sensing that the guy was friendly, because if he was, that meant he had a fresh supply of brain fluid right in front of him. Leaning over to Girania he says quietly, "I'm sure you can tell, but I'm pretty sure this guy is friendly. Stiiiiiiiiillll, if you don't wanna take the risk, I can deglove him for you. I'd discourage it, but I also wouldn't say no to it."

 

[thesuprememachine]

he was another member of this group, and if the asked man were to be believed, they may end up walking right into the conflict of several armies. So, despite her hoarse voice and pestering spirits, she struggled to speak her mind.

"Must... act soon. War is... here."

War. The V1's back straightened as soon as it heard that single syllable word. It was like a sleeper agent. As long as war had it's ultimate fuel source, that being violence and greed, it would never stop. This was something the machine had come to learn quickly. And when the dust is to settle, all that is to remain, is war without reason. The machine looked down at it's hand. Bloody and stained. It knew that it truly was the last of it's kind, the only of it's kind. The only of it's kind that can click the machine of war back on and into the nonstop factory of bloodshed. A machine built to end war.. is always a machine built to continue war. The machine gripped it's revolver even tighter, any harder would cause the thing to pop like a balloon. It knew it's purpose. But would it continue the process? Repeat the outcome of Hell? It had the opportunity to break it's programming, change it's fate. But would it, is the real question.

His posture immediately slumps forward as he does so, his hand quickly morphing into a hasty thumbs up as he says in a reedy voice, "Nah, I'm just uh, just uh, fucking with you man, that's a good idea, ha ha ha... wait reedy?" He paused, as he realizes that yes, he has in fact changed his vocalizer's settings unconsciously, again. "no I don't sound fucki- Uh, I mean." He turns back to Bond, then the girl, then back to Bond. "I'm just- gonna go now, uhhhhh sorry lady about the rules stuff, just a bout of deja vu or whatever."

The machine squinted, well, if it could, it would be. It was more like it was zooming in on him. The machine zoomed out, and passed it off as a conscious defunctional machine that has broken it's code and made a pitiful attempt at humor.

Hm. What would it be like if it could do that itself?

"Well then," Varre spoke up as he noticed the flashing himself, "it seems more of your 'displaced' compatriots are awaiting you. I must be off myself, as there are tasks to be done for the protection of my lord's lands. I bid you all farewell, and may our paths cross again! Especially with you," he said to V1, "my lord would take quite a liking of you, should you find yourself in need of blood."

With that, Varre disappeared into a stream of golden light without warning. Although, a message appeared on the ground where he stood.

'Seek out Tarnished, beckoned by lost grace. They will lead you to the Ashen Capital.'

The machine turned it's head to Varre. It's grip loosened on the revolver. It had to remember it's current goal. Find blood. Sustain itself. It slowly watched him, seeing as to how Varre was just as interested with it as it was interested with him. "IF BLOOD IS TO BECOME A RARE RESOURCE BY THE TIME I MAKE MY LEAVE, I WILL CONSIDER YOUR OFFER." It reasoned. The machine didn't doubt it would need blood eventually, but, would it need this lord of his, to get it? Maybe. It will come with time.

V1 then watched the man disappear into a bright gold light. Interesting. Nothing in it's database had been similar to that, the only thing close enough were Virtue's beams of light or Gabriel's teleportation. It moved slowly to the spot he stood, and took a quick picture to save in it's database, if it is ever to become important.

———————————————————————————

The machine had stepped onto the front porch, it's metallic feet slamming down onto the wooden floorboards. It followed behind James Bond, standing more like an occasional murder tool than an actual part of a team. Team.

> NEW WORD LOGGED INTO DATABASE.
> TEAM.
> come together as a team to achieve a common goal.

While the older man greeted the group, Oliver elected to just stare mildly miffed at the guy. For once, he hoped that he was wrong in sensing that the guy was friendly, because if he was, that meant he had a fresh supply of brain fluid right in front of him. Leaning over to Girania he says quietly, "I'm sure you can tell, but I'm pretty sure this guy is friendly. Stiiiiiiiiillll, if you don't wanna take the risk, I can deglove him for you. I'd discourage it, but I also wouldn't say no to it."

The machine's head slowly turned to Oliver. It seemed he was just as, not, well, bloodthirsty, but definitely was hungry to kill by the way they behaved. Then it turned it's head to Girania, craning it's long neck to her also.

"IF THAT IS TO BE NECESSARY, I WOULD LIKE TO PARTICIPATE. NOR WOULD I SAY NO, NOR WOULD I DISCOURAGE IT. I WOULD ACTUALLY ENCOURAGE IT." The machine "whispered." In reality, this was just its normal voice but at a lower volume to be that of a volume of a whisper.

 

[Goonfire]

​

With Varre gone, Jill's rigid posture grew relaxed. Something about him made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it at first. There was the obvious—his mask and evident teleportation—yet her instincts and past experience told her those were merely the tip of the iceberg. The real red flag involved what he said before he disappeared; it was his eagerness to recruit V1 for its bloodlust. "Alliances with a tyrant. What more could a girl want?" she remarked aloud, injecting some dry sarcasm into the mix. "We should tread carefully around Varre and his master. God only knows what they're after..."

With others on the move, she strode towards the church, grateful to have ditched the ridiculous battle suit she was wearing when she first appeared in the tundra. High heels didn't do well in grassy hills... or any terrain, really.

A man in antiquated armor had signaled them and introduced himself. It was difficult to refuse his offer for shelter, given the hour. Thankfully, he didn't seem guarded or hostile; fighting among scattered wasn't conducive to anyone's survival and journey home.

"Sergeant Jill Valentine," she replied, saluting Jauffre. "You have enough room for all of us?" With her eyes, she motioned to her compatriots.

 

[Girania the Knightess]

Girania​

Varre was not someone Girania would trust to be alone with in any situation, but he was willing to provide information. Quite a lot of it, in fact. The Viera woman didn't much care for getting involved with the political landscape of this place (AKA the continent-spanning war), but it was good to know what to expect and avoid at all costs. That being said apparently that battle was the only quick thing they were able to do. The conversation was taking a while, and Oliver had proposed an idea about bringing harm to this strange masked man.

"Probably not a good idea", she responded. "He's connected to someone fighting in this world's war. Hurting him might bring his lord's ire to us."

By the time the group had gathered their thoughts, the sun was setting. They reached a sort of refuge for Scattered, and were offered a place to rest. That being said, Girania couldn't help but laugh a little when Jill asked if there was room for them. Girania pointed at the crumbled walls of the Church house.

"I think there's plenty of room, given the state of the building."

It was a bit mean to joke about the ruined state of a place of worship, but its current purpose was a place of rest, and how does one rest without unwinding a little?

 

[Midle1998]

Xander Bly had long passed the point of stopping to count how many worlds he had fallen into. At one time or the other, you either learned to roll with the chaos or got rolled over by it. Still, The Lands Between—well, that was different.

In recent days, he had been holed up in a wreck of a church with a handful of other survivors, scattered from other worlds and worlds weirder than the last. There was Jauffre, an old knight with an air of nobility about him and a voice that consisted of gravel and honey, who spoke of prophecies and dragons as carelessly as one would have spoken of the weather. There had also been The Tarnished, a citizen of these parts, who said little, slept less, and looked like one who had witnessed entire empires falling.

Then there was the Engineer. A gruff mercenary with a heavy coating of grime, he treated tech like religion and had already converted half the church to a semi-operational command post. With a buzzing generator assembled of scavenged parts and an automated turret aimed at the main gate "just in case", he was most definitely the reason that place hadn't been blown to the high heavens yet.

There were others that dribbled through—scattered like Xander himself. Some remained. Some moved on. However, that church has grown into a waystation for the lost.

So when another fight broke out—magic displacement throwing the familiar glow into the distance, gates bursting with gunfire—Xander did not flinch.

He was already moving for the archway

Dust motes shimmered in a beam of sunlight as he walked out, the wind tousling his long coat, which had been an exchange for spandex after his worldly realization that spandex and medieval landscapes wouldn't mix.

Down the slope was gathering yet another crowd—the soldiers, the strangers, the shining armors loading the strange machines. He spotted all too familiar faces from stories and posters, even a ship-girl standing beside a few others who looked ready to snap any and everything in half.

With that, he waved and grinned.

"Hey there~. Name's Xander. If you're new to this world, congratulations—you just found the weirdest hostel this side of the Lands between!"

He stepped aside, directing his hand at the wide stone doorway behind him. "There's room inside. It's not fancy, but we've got blankets, food that mostly won't poison you, and a roof that only leaks when it rains really hard."

Xander was acknowledging them casually, turning back to the entrance of the church while glancing over his shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you in! No need to camp under the stars if you don't have to."

The church inside was dim and lit by salvaged lanterns and a few magical glyphs that had been etched into the stone walls. Cots were lined carefully on one side, crates full of salvaged supplies on the other. In the middle was a large table, its surface covered with scattered maps, old weapons, and steaming bowls of something that smelled mostly like stew—if you didn't ask too many questions.

 

[Wade von Mackensen]

~~GM~~

Surrounding the table in the center of the church were seven men. Five were dressed in plated armor exactly like Jauffre's, while the sixth wore a vibrant yellow and beige uniform, like something a prince would wear on the combat field. As the group entered and came into view under the lantern lights, he quickly made his approach. "Well, well! Should've known all that ruckus was caused by newbies!"

Claude​

"Oh, thank God," The seventh man, who looked to be around Claude's age, sighed in relief, "I was worried that big tree knight finally had enough of us loitering around his property."

Henry of Skalitz
​

"They aren't as new as they appear, it seems," Jauffre corrected the younger men, "they are new arrivals. But came through different means than us."

"Ohhhh, so you're after Godrick then, yeah?" Claude correctly guessed.

"What? How can you tell?" Henry asked.

"Because if they didn't arrive here like we did, then they must have come through that World Stone Godrick's always lording over. Try as he might, he's not exactly very clever in hiding the fact that he has a way out of this realm. Usually has his cultists march along the roads from his castle so they know the 'promised land' they're fighting to defend for him. And they look even more out of place than the rest of you do."

"Then how did they get outside the castle? He surely doesn't have that much control over the stone, does he?"

"Probably not, but he could probably control where 'uninvited guests' land when coming through the other side. I'm guessing the Tree Knight was meant to stop you. Though, from what we saw, seems he underestimated your strength. That'll make breaking into his home all the more satisfying.~"

"Ahem," Jauffre interrupted, "our guests would like to know if there is room here for the night."

"Oh, of course! Apologies for the rudeness," Henry corrected, bowing before the team, "I am Henry of Skalitz, liege to Lord Radzig."

"And I am Claude, heir to House Riegen of the Leicester Alliance. A pleasure to make your acquaintances." Unlike Henry, Claude remained relaxed, even putting his hands behind his head as he introduced himself, and giving a flirtatious wink to Jill.

 

[Otomos]

The spirits within Chika wanted to go on a rampage, but this wouldn't be the first time she had been among a large amount of allied warriors. She had methods of keeping them from starting trouble. She looked at the people seemingly in charge of this... sanctuary of sorts. The yellow one looked inexperienced, but given the strangeness in recent times, perhaps that was just a facade. The other two seemed more familiar than Chika wished to admit. They held themselves like knights, and wore armor similar to the faction her world had. They were different, of course. These two seemed smaller than the warriors she has fought. More akin to the builds of the foot soldiers, but given that they stood out, perhaps their experience and skill made up for the lack of toned muscle.

No one had introduced themselves yet, despite the greeting these men had given. After taking a moment to calm herself, Chika spoke in kind.

"I am... Kobayashi Chika..."