forum Oc roleplay with your host dani

Started August 13, 2021 by Dani Jean McGhee

tune

Me: All good
Still busy with life and now dealing with writer's block

(Me) Writer’s block. The ultimate curse.

Me: Aye
Started working on a response

(Me) ‘Thumbs-up’

Deimos: actually comes to a standstill

…your blatant show is tiresome mortal…

Raises his hand, swiping it once in the direction of Carol, Eilander, Gerard, and his demonic beasts. Almost instantly a black fog descends, seeming to swallow the small group, then dispersing to reveal nothing but a black space which he slowly approaches. The male calmly moves his hand, returning to the pockets of his jacket

To the hells if I am punished so soon…I am done with trying to 'behave'…

Tilts his head slightly back at the sudden attacks that seemed to be closing in on him, one of his ears twitching upwards. Just as he seems to be hit, he steps through that black darkness, disappearing. Wherever it was he went, it seems silent for several moment, then a sudden chorus of screeches resounds, followed by an ominous rumbling

???: The sound of several voices, both female and male, seem to resound from that darkness, speaking at once

Enough of this.

Massive, scaled hands with curved claw-like nails appear from the darkness, pulling upwards from some unknown ledge wherever that darkness leads to

Come Forgiven, feast upon those that sought misery in others.

Almost instantly strange, flying beasts that appear pure white in appearance flock outwards. A pair flit forward, taking hold of one AI. The creatures start tugging, pulling either arm of the mechanical thing, till finally pulling it apart while lifting it in the air, each one screeching at the other. Several more fly inwards, swatting away at the new threats that have presented themselves. All the while, those giant clawed hands remain gripping the ledge, the low rumble continuing to echo

Cleanse these impure souls, for they are stains to the innocent

---

Me: Half asleep writing this
And I said fuck it, Deimos changed to his true form, only his claws being seen as of now
If ya wanna know how he looks as well as abilities, feel free to look at his charrie page
I can repost it here; Deimos Hruvok

(Me) Oh damn. ‘Thumbs-up and big grin’. Deimos becomes ever more fascinating. And his character page actually reminded me of several missing details for Lucitius’ page, like the appearance of his full form (Hence why it took me a minute to reply. I have details for him scattered everywhere, it’s ridiculous how difficult it is to find them all).

(The AI) With the new threat overpowering them, all but one shuts off. The last one is Malcolm’s guard, which remains mostly still, eyes blue as it scans the area.

(Gate) The charging skeletons are easily ripped apart. However, more constantly crawl through the gate, an unending wave.

(Malcolm) “Alright, fuck this!”
Pulls out the little jagged ball he had showed earlier. He taps it, a red light starting to blink faster and faster, and throws it at Deimos. A massive explosion shakes the area, singeing Malcolm’s hair.
—He pulls out a smooth ball, waiting with it in hand.
—Any attacks coming his way are intercepted by the AI, which seems to have much faster reflexes now than when its companions were around.

(Phalakros) He watches, avoiding any attacks that might come his way. He keeps glancing at Lucitius, indecisive.
—He finally decides to approach Lucitius, claws dripping with tar. He licks his lips and kneels beside Lucitius.
“You are weak. Too weak to save your little Phalakros. Too weak to save Sanius.”

(Lucitius) The indigo mist surrounding Lucitius starts to pulse as he cries. His wound is nearly healed, but he seems oblivious.
—He freezes at Phalakros’ words, then the indigo mist pulses again, this time with aim. It wraps around Phalakros and he bursts into blue flame.
—Phalakros shrieks and rushes away, crashing into the Gate. He collapses on the ground, writhing, as the Gate above him starts to whir and flash.
—Lucitius sits up, groaning and swaying. Moving in a daze, he grabs Phalakros and pulls him near. A thick trail of tar and ichor is left behind, and parts of Phalakros’ body could be seen, appearing bleached. Where the tar remains, the flames continue to burn.
“Mine dear boy. I beg you, return to me.”
—His voice is quiet, pleading. The tar seems to fade away from Phalakros’ body, before it burns away, and Phalakros, looking especially pale and seemingly unconscious.
“Sanius, I am here. Return to me. I beg you!”
—He brushes a hand through the singed strands of Phalakros’ hair, watching and waiting, oblivious to his surroundings.

(The Gate) No more skeletons come through it, though dozens remain in the area, and the portal flickers constantly. The edge where Phalakros had slammed into it was crunched, causing the portal to malfunction again. The whirring sound became progressively louder, a warning of the explosion to come.

Those massive clawed hands seem to instantly let go of the 'ledge' as the explosion shatters the darkness, seeming to cause a ripple from the depths somewhere, the ominous rumble turns into a deep rumbling growl that causes the very area to vibrate. The strange, flying monstrities screech at one another, occasionally flying downwards, gripping whatever remains of the last AI and skeletons, before returning back to that dark space, flying downwards and disappearing with their 'prizes'

???: Do not struggle so…Judgement is here, no matter how hard you try to resist…

Great draconic claws suddenly grip the ledge, followed by the clawed hands that slowly hoist whatever was hidden in the darkness. It isn't long before the giant form of a monstrous humanoid appears. It looks identical to Deimos…except more devilish in appearance, great horns curling from his head now, the blindfold still covering his eyes, but now streaks of red are clearly seen sliding down. What is seen is only his head to his waist, the rest hidden in the depths of that darkness he seemed to be rising from. The more human arms, though plated in scales, move to rest in front of his chest. Those great, draconic limbs the only part seen from beneath as they gripped the ledge keeping the massive beast in place

Deimos: Though the monstrous humanoid's mouth remains closed, the voices seem to echo directly from it

Stained souls…filth…undeserving of life…

Several creatures come, some resting on the beast's great horns, others flying around the massive humanoid…but what laid beneath?

(Me) I love the slow reveal tactic. And I also recently learned how to modify the text on here, so I’m very happy right now. Big grin

(Malcolm) “Damn you! Are you too afraid to fight me face to face, you big bastard? You use all your grand powers, and yet all I’ve got is my tools and this fucking pistol, which isn’t even a proper gun! You’re a chickenshit if you can’t fight me as a man, or whatever the fuck you’ve been lingering around here in!”
He glances over at the whirring sound of the portal, sighing.
“Oh, and by the way, we’re all about to blow up anyway. There isn’t any fixing that bitch now.”
He snickers.

(Lucitius) He barely overhears Malcolm’s words about the portal and looks over at it, thick streak of tears running down his face and neck. His scales steadily crack, oozing blood.
—He glances over at Deimos and Malcolm, barely registering or even understanding the sight. He turns back to the portal and flicks a small bolt of lightning at it. The bolt bounces back and hits him instead, though it doesn’t hurt him.
“Rest well, Sanius. I will return in a moment.”
He gently pats Phalakros, then stumbles to his feet. He approaches the Gate, studying and playing with it like a curious child.

(The Gate) The flickering portal within seems to lash out, a misty black hand forming from the portal and snatching Lucitius by the throat.

(Lucitius) He chuckles, not noticing the pain or his lack of air. He taps the arm repeatedly, toying with it, then cuts through it. The arm fades away, a low growl beginning to sound from the portal.
—He slices through the gate, throwing the pieces aside, releasing the portal. The whirring sound stutters to a stop, but the portal growls even louder.
“Do I hear someone familiar?”
He looks around, smiling coyly at the portal. He then snatches the portal’s edge with an ethereal claw and slices it open, creating a much larger rift.
“Greet everyone, you foul bastard!”
He turns and bows at Deimos, waving an invitation.

(Malcolm) He glances over and gapes at the huge tear.
“What the fuck has that crazy lizard done?”

(The Rift) The growl becomes a dark laugh and a massive tail breaks through, tipped by a pair of pincers dripping with black poison. It waves around, then snaps at Lucitius.

(Lucitius) He turns ethereal, the pincers going harmlessly through him. He laughs maniacally at the angry howl from the beast.
“Let me introduce the tail of a creature that loves to kill innocents. Beware the pincers, for the Shadow Venom within is deadly, and few have ever lived. Ask me how I know, for I am one of those survivors!”
He laughs for a long moment, his horns cracking and the tips snapping off. He somewhat composes himself, oblivious to the return of the indigo mist around him.
“If you can kill this one, then the rift is yours to enjoy as you will. The Tar Plane is nearly endless, and rife with these bastards!”

(Malcolm) “Oh shit!”
He bolts as the pincers lunge at him, heading much closer to Deimos than he had wanted to. However, he hopes Deimos finds him as a less appealing meal compared to the demon thing from the portal, so he might find some sort of escape.

(Me) And it seems Lucitius has gone a bit psycho on me, more than usual at least. So fun, to see and explore what makes characters go crazy. But, anyway, I’m rambling.

Deimos: The great horned head doesn't even turn at the sound of Malcolm's voice, what it now took as a small, pathetic buzz

Frustration…anger and resentment…shall soon turn to despair and fear…

A chorus of screeches as the creatures that once perched atop the humanoid's horns now suddenly lift off of their great perches. Several swirl around the great torso, but several have lifted upwards, moving to come behind the great, horned head of the monstrous Deimos. The large blindfold covering those hidden eyes seems to finally loosen, the black cloth drenched in what one could only describe as 'blood'.

His great horned head turns at the sound of movement

Another comes…a soul black…staining the pure white canvas…Judge, Jury, and Executioner…I am all…

Those great draconic limbs that were gripping the ledges suddenly pull upwards. The very ground seems to tremble by the movement. The draconic forelegs hoist upwards, now revealing the monstrous visage that laid below the humanoid's waist. Where 'human legs' should've been attached to the body, instead a great maw lined with rows of jagged fangs gnashed together in loud clacks. The source of the terrifying growls now clearly seen resting on the ledge with the draconic forelegs sprawled outwards on either side. Yet still the monster that was 'Deimos' was not fully seen…

The large blindfold finally falls downwards, being captured by several of the winged creatures which swiftly flit away with it…yet his eyes remain closed as the 'blood' tears continue to slide down his face

Come then…let your soul be judged…

The only notion given that he took notice of Malcolm's blunder of stumbling closer was the all too eager clashing of the great maw that was more than ready to swallow the man whole if he were not crushed first in the process of one of those draconic forelegs suddenly slamming down nearby to pull Deimos' great form further inside the space as he now seemed focused on the entity that seemed to be writhing from the other portal that Lucitius stood close to

(Me) Just to clarify, in case of any confusion, and to double-check myself, basically Lucitius had turned the portal Malcolm had made into a bigger portal/rift. But anyway.

(Lucitius) He laughs maniacally, waiting for the battle. But his laughter quickly melts into tears, of agony and of sorrow.
—Blue blood oozes from the dozens of cracks in his scales, and four faint clawmarks, scars, slowly appear on his throat. He becomes corporeal again, curling on the ground as blood quickly pools beneath him.

(Malcolm) “What the fuck is going on, damn it?”
He quickly moves away from Deimos, preferring not to be eaten at the moment. However, there was nowhere else to go to hide from that tail. He had rarely ever been afraid of anything, but that tail, for reasons unknown, scared him.
“Damn it! Why can’t I be back at home with my fucking machines? At least, I know what to expect there, instead of this magic bullshit that shouldn’t even exist!”
He sighs, shaking his head, too flustered to watch.

(The Rift) The massive tail moves to hover above Deimos, pincers clicking together. A hissing sound begins, more venom dripping from the pincers, then it strikes with rapid speed.
—A second tail slowly appears, hiding underneath the first one. The tail waves around a bit, then swings for motionless Phalakros.

(Lucitius) As he cries, he turns to look over at Phalakros, noticing the pincers. He watches them a moment, then reaches out with a hand.
“No!”
A white bolt of lightning streaks from his outstretched fingers. It hits one of the pincers, cracking it. A piercing shriek comes from the rift, and the tail quickly retreats.
—He blinks, surprised by the bolt, but he quickly pushes it from his thoughts, stumbling to Phalakros’ side. He kneels next to him, examining him for further wounds. He finally notices the lack of breathing.
“No. Sanius, no! I beg you! Return to me! I beg you!”
He grabs Phalakros, holding him tightly. His horns crumble even more, and the indigo mist has grown thick in spots, miniature lightning bolts crackling within.

(Malcolm) Seems to finally remember the smooth ball in his hand and grins. He taps it three times and it unravels slightly to reveal a red button.
“If I’m gonna die, it’s going to be my way. Fuck all of you!”
He taps the button, holding the ball tight in his hand. The button starts to flash, the blinking slowly becomes faster.
“I should have modified this to have a faster timer, but I made this when I actually cared about surviving. Oh well, shit happens.”
He snickers to himself.

(Me) Honestly thinking about adding another character, once the battle settles a bit. And I’m debating if Phalakros is actually dead, or just in a stasis. I’m exploring new territory here, because I’ve actually never killed Phalakros with Lucitius nearby to watch it. Hence, why Lucitius is regressing and going completely psycho in the process, also something a bit new.

I’m also curious what will happen after the battle. Who will remain, who will return, and what newcomers might arrive? But, I’m getting ahead of myself now.

Deimos: His great form seems to continue to slowly crawl upwards from that dark hole he had come from. The chorus of screeches echoed as the strange creatures continued to hover over their massive commander. The very ground quaked with each movement, the sound of scales and claws scraping against hard stone, the constant gnashing of the fanged maw echoing

As one would brush aside a fly, the beast lifted a scale plated arm, swatting away the tail that poised to strike forward with the dripping venom. In retaliation, his other arm moves, coming to grip behind the clashing pincers, moving to slam the attacking tail to the floor in front of him. Almost instantly both of the draconic forelegs lift upwards, gripping down to pin the once flailing limb down to the floor. Ever slowly the great maw gnashed, being pulled closer

Enough…

Slowly, Deimos' once closed eyes open. To those foolish enough to be caught in the silver and red glare, would be frozen…unmoving. Silver eyes with slit red pupils slowly moved back and forth, scanning the area

This…poison…is it even poison? How…simple…to think…this could've killed me before…Are Forgiven truly Forgiven?

For just a moment his eyes seem to dim, but then once again light up as he stares downwards at the pinned tail. The screeches of the creatures echo around, a few once again returning to their perches atop his horns

What to do…what…to…do…

(The Rift) Loud shrieks echo from within, the tail mightily struggling. However, it stops after a moment, and rumbling begins. Another moment passes, and a second massive rift is torn appears in the ground, stretching to swallow the first rift.
—A hideous beast smothered in tar and resembling a scorpion launches up at Deimos, its four large pincers moving to dismember Deimos.
-As it launches, twenty legs scrape for solid ground, and three holes open in its back, eating the tar and emitting that loud haunting screech. It also seems completely impervious to the gaze of Deimos.

(Me) Tar creatures live in complete darkness, and have evolved to have no eyes whatsoever. So, this is definitely going to be interesting.

(Malcolm) He winces at the light, his eyes reflexively turning to look. He freezes in place, his left eye abruptly shorting out. The sphere in his hand continues to blink, slowly getting faster.

(Lucitius) He glances at the opening rift, his eyes widening at the sight of the entire creature. He then glances toward Deimos, and grins, admiring the beauty of the glow for a moment.
—He then turns away, blue blood now beginning to drip from his lips. He stares absently at the youth in his hands, his body distorting. Two faint apparitions appear on either side of him, one loudly screams in agony, the other quietly moans with sorrow, and yet he seems completely oblivious.
—He gently sets Phalakros down and stands, stumbling toward the rift as his body snaps and pops. A jagged tear rips through him, creating a shallow, vertical wound separating the halves of his body.
—He leans heavily to his left, the claws of his left hand disintegrating to short nails, the left half of his glass hair becoming black and messy, and the marking melting off the left side of his body to reveal pale blue scales. The tears beneath his now sky blue left eye become maroon.
“Take me. Take me instead of mine son. I cannot bear to lose him twice!”he pleas, his voice distorted.
—He pauses, breathing deeply, and stands straight. He walks forward again, this time leaning to the right. His right hand flexes eagerly.
“You have killed so many of my loved ones, in the present, in the past, and even before my birth. Now, I shall return the favor. It takes a god to kill a god.”
—He hesitates at the edge of the rift, and gazes around. He notices Malcolm, and the ball in his hand.
“Yet, first…”
—He teleports in front of Malcolm, stumbling and nearly collapsing to his knees. He straightens, his breath becoming a loud wheeze. He places a hand over Malcolm’s, covering the sphere, and stares into the still eyes of Malcolm.
“Do you ever feel tired? Tired to the soul, with nothing to sate your exhaustion? I have felt such for ages now. Yet, now, I feel the sensation of sleep slowly dragging me away. Finally, for I am in need of a long, long rest.”
—His fingers slide away, taking the sphere. He chuckles hoarsely, blood spilling from his lips.
“Your old, demented heart is not worth eating.”
—He turns away, not caring if Malcolm had even registered his presence at all.
“Fragility in a heart of strength. Hold out your hand, mine dear. I await you, Death, by the pier,”he softly sang.

(Phalakros) Unknown to Lucitius, as he had walked away, there was a small inhale and the twitch of pale brown fingers.

Deimos: Barely seems phased, the facial features remaining completely emotionless as the beast attached to that tail finally emerges to reveal itself

How…strange…you are…an abomination? Or a corrupted?

The great head seems to tilt ever so slightly, having an almost curious glint in his eyes, as his gaze seems to be the only part of him showing any expression. Despite his great stature, the beast releases its grip on the tail, instead pushing its great form backwards, once again seeming to sink back down into the darkness where Deimos had first emerged from in his great form. Clearly, there was still much more to the beast than he was revealing, the body behind the gnashing maw that connected his waist to whatever laid behind and beyond in his own rift he had created

From his single, smooth movement, the creatures perched upon his horns and body once again lift into the air, flocking around the great beast, their voices rising in a cacophony of screeches and wails

The draconic forelegs claws curl up into massive fists, the ethereal chains, broken, sway every so slightly by the movements. The powerful jaws suddenly open as the clawed fists slam into the ground repeatedly, back and forth, causing the ground to crack and tremble from the power

Forgiven…let your voices rise…rise and witness…

Almost instantly, the wails and screeches seem to turn into rising voices…voices calling out to one another. The more the voices call out, the buzz turns into words; 'Witness.Sinners.Judgement.'

The great maw seems to open even wider as a white ball of what can only be described as a glowing orb of energy seems to gather, crackling with some unknown power

The voices continue to sing and chant the same words over and over. The once pounding draconic fists come to a complete standstill, slamming down and digging claws into stone as if bracing to keep the great beast in place. A thunderous roar echoes from the great maw as the air crackles. Deimos lifts both his scaled plated arms outwards, as if readying for the charging beast

Deimos knew very well he did not quite have the full advantage, as his great body could not completely fit. Yet, if he could possibly grip that entity, the beast knew he would have a chance of dragging it back into the depths where he originally crawled out of, that would then give him full advantage

---

Me: Mean while I'm trying to be super careful so not to godmode here lel
That, as well as exploring a bit more with Deimos and what he is, including the other 'Forgiven' creatures around him

(Me) Lol. Hell with it, if you want to explore godmode as well, go ahead. I’m fine with it either way. Besides I’ve been on complete improv/new territory since Phalakros ‘died’, and I think Lucitius has gone a bit godmode anyway, maybe, it’s such a grey area with him.

(The Rift) The creature screeches when it misses, then leaps again, seven large fangs appearing from the tar covering the front of its body.

(Lucitius) He stands by the edge of the rift, looking across to the body of Phalakros. More tears come to him, and he snaps his fingers, a burst of blue mist breifly appearing.
“Mine dear Sanius… I never meant for this,”he slurs.
—A loud snap comes from his body and he sways, his shoulders seeming strangely wider than before. His eyes flicker, and he falls into the rift.

(The Rift) Triumphant howls begin after Lucitius falls in. But, it quickly changes to shrieks of agony and panic.
—The rift itself ripples, then bright blue fire bursts from it, engulfing it entirely. The screams of millions of horrid creatures silence in an instant, and the rift dissolves into nothingness.
—The creature attacking Deimos crashes into him, tar sliding off in waves. Within moments, black bone and charred flesh is all that remains of the creature. It shrieks, stubbornly clinging to life.

(Phalakros) After the rift vanishes, he gasps awake. He looks around frantically, climbing to his knees. Black fluid oozes from his scales, and color returns to his body.
—He looks down at himself and gasps again. He glances around, then starts to laugh.
“They have gone! They have finally left me!”
—He notices Deimos and the former tar creature, whimpering a moment. He then notices Malcolm, but he sees no sign of Lucitius, Eilander, Carol, or Gerard.
“Lucitius? Eilander? Someone?”
—He sits down, waiting. A sinking feeling comes to him, that he would never see Lucitius again. Was Phalakros dead? No, but Lucitius likely was. After all, something was now missing, a subtle sensation of security, that he had never noticed until now.
—He wonders if any others had survived. Had Lucitius disconnected himself from the race, or was Phalakros the only survivor? Would he ever see Synthia, Elix-Shire, or any of the others again?
—He curls up, staring into oblivion, thoroughly depressed and lonely.

(Me) Well… Lucitius just blew up the entire Tar Plane. He’s dead. And, it’s actually inspiring now. I might have to make an alternate timeline for a scenario of Lucitius destroying the Tar Plane instead of one of my other Planes, and it already sounds like a clusterfuck to me, lol. But, anyway.
—If you want, I can have other ‘survivors’ from the Tar Plane, so Deimos can have more to judge, instead of a half-dead beast. It’s up to you.

Deimos: Even as the great rift opposite closes, Lucitius seeming to disappear, only leaving the beast before him. Despite that half-dead state, a mere skeleton, the creature seemed still intent on reaching and tearing the formidable Deimos himself.

As it lunged forward, Deimos' plated arms swung down, gripping those great pincers in place, forcing them open even wider. The draconic forelegs remained holding him in place as the maw connecting his waist to the rest of the hidden body opens wider, the orb of energy that had been building in the fanged jaws seeming to growl larger, radiating with more power

Behold Sinner…I. am. Forgiven. Calamity.

Almost instantly, a beam of pure white raw energy escapes the maw, blasting forward, colliding with the remains of the beast before him. The skeleton clattered as the bones soon gave way to dust. The horrid screeching quieting down to nothing more than the chorus of voices coming from the hovering Forgiven that remained around the massive beast that still held itself in place upon that ledge of its own rift. Their voices continued to remain consistent, chanting the same words over and over; 'Witness. Sinners. Judgement.'

Only a stillness settles in the air, the chorus of the Forgiven also coming to quiet down to the dull flapping of wings as they hovered around the massive form of Deimos. Slowly, the male's silver eyes move to scan the world before him. The once slit red pupils becoming round, calm. That gaze, moves coming to land upon the distraught Phalakros

The great beast remains silent for several moments, then once again the multitude of voices that seem to all emit from him speak up, yet his mouth never moves. The once vocal snarling of the maw also has quieted down. Only a low rumble comes from it has it remains slightly open, the long tongue lolling out every now and then

I do not know…Lucitius fate…little Eilander…is safe…back in our world…I mu-…

Deimos never finishes as the ethereal chains suddenly seem to spring to life. The draconic forelegs are swiftly cuffed together, a chain attaching to the collar around his throat pulling back tight, choking him. An enraged snarl escapes the once calming maw at the sudden chains

???: a low sigh sounds from somewhere, followed by the 'clucking' of someone's tongue

Deimos, Deimos, Deimos…oh whatever shall we do with you? Why the Goddess has such a soft spot for you is beyond me…she really should keep you on a choke collar and down in the pit with the others

---

Me: Nah, think that's a good spot to slowly quiet things down again…for the most part lel

(Me) thumbs-up

(Malcolm) Still petrified.

(Phalakros) Turns to Deimos as he starts speaking. He is dismayed by the uncertainty around Lucitius, but relieved by the news that Eilander was safe.

He gasped as the chains wrapped around Deimos, then whimpered at the sound of the voice. He froze for a moment, thinking of fleeing, then finally caught on to the words. Despite his usual shyness, words burst forth from him.

“Deimos was helping! If he had done nothing, then this place would have been overrun by evil constructs and foul demons! Why must he be punished?”

He curls up, bursting into tears. He couldn’t fight it anymore. He knew Lucitius was dead, he knew. Why? Why must Lucitius be punished? And why must Deimos, who had seemed more ally than enemy from the start, be punished for his own good deeds? What twisted world was this?

(???) Lurking in the shadows a bit away from the group, a slender, four-armed individual watches Deimos being wrapped in chains. He ponders what he had just missed, for it clearly seemed to be a battle. With constructs and demons? What were constructs?

A quiet, insectile chirp comes from the newcomer, and he listens closely to the words being said, and to the beating hearts of the group before him. He would learn as much as he could before revealing himself, and how he loved to spy.

(Me) Just out of curiosity, how long does the petrifying effect last, or is it permanent? I ask because I’ve got a few ideas for Malcolm, if nothing happens to him beforehand of course, and I don’t know what would work yet.

Deimos: The only sound seeming to come from the massive beast is the scraping of scales, claws, and the enraged snarling of the great maw as he is slowly dragged back into the great rift where he had emerged from

The flying creatures that had appeared with the monstrous Deimos are also swiftly retreating back down into the darkness where Deimos was being pulled back into the depths

???: From nearby, the sound of beating wings, sounding much different from the flying creatures that had flocked around Deimos. From nearby, a figure lands. As they land, they are completely armor-clad in white armor with trims of blue, holding a glaive. Though armored, they seem humanoid in appearance, but being nearly 10ft in height. A pair of white wings that seem to be a combination of bird and dragon.

From nearby, several more figures much like the one that landed before the beast of Deimos hover nearby, all seeming intent on ushering the monstrous Deimos back into the rift

The one who landed turns his head towards Phalakros, hidden gaze beneath the helmet directly upon him

…and you are?

Seems to give an exasperated sigh, shaking his head

Why do I even care. You are not of our world, you do not understand what exactly that monster behind me is capable of.

Pauses, seeming to notice the petrified Malcolm. Walks over to the frozen man, tilting his helmed head slightly to the side. Moves a bit, waving a few times in the other's face

Goddamn't…least you still have your soul intact it seems. Consider yourself lucky mortal that we managed to intervene before any more damage could be done

Without so much of a second thought, the armored figure easily clasps Malcolm's head in a single hand, having shifted his glaive to his other hand. Blue energy seeps downwards, clearing the petrified status

I advise not doing anything too strenuous mortal. Considering your age and what you have just experienced, any possible shock, sudden movements, and so forth, could very well just end your life

Releases his grip, moving away. Their helmet turns, facing whoever lurked in the shadows. Observes for several moments, then looks back forward to where Deimos was continuing to be drug back into the rift

---

Me: Malcolm will recover, as ??? made sure of that
Though it will take time

(Me) Ooh, new ideas for the old man. evil snickering

(Malcolm) Groans, then checks himself and his hands. He sighs at the sight of his empty hands, slowly moves to the side, and pulls out a miniaturized chair. He taps and drops it, then sits down in the full-sized chair, holding his head in his hands.

(Phalakros) He shakily looks up and whimpers.

“What have you done? That old man started the battle! You should have left him, killed him, anything beyond healing him!”

He stumbles to his feet, wiping his face and attempting a strong posture, though it didn’t work well.

“Then tell me what I know not! I have traveled alongside an adventurous demigod for millennia, serving as his liaison to countless worlds! I may be weak and easily shaken, yet I am no fool!”

More tears stream from his eyes at the thought that he would never travel with Lucitius again.

(???) He eyes the old man with narrow eyes, then glances at Phalakros. A shy, but intriguing young fellow.

He turns to the armored individual, scrutinizing him, glancing between him and Deimos. He has no desire to fight them, though… they would make wonderful allies. He chirps again, pushing those thoughts aside.

(Me) I might bring in another character for a breif moment, depending on how things go.

Deimos: It isn't long before the beast is drug back down into the depths of that rift. Swiftly following were the winged, armored figures. A few swerved back, herding in the few stragglers of the other flying creatures

???: Despite the helmet, a hardened gaze glared directly towards Phalakros

Then surely you know better than to go diving in and disrupting another world's balance yes? Delicate strands of fate that can easily be snapped by one, wrong action

Glances towards the darkness where Deimos had finally disappeared

Though let me explain more about that 'beast'. The one whom is so called 'Deimos', his true title; Forgiven Calamity. A title that only 3 other beasts like him carry, though I will admit, unlike the rest, Deimos seems to retain some of what one would call 'humanity'.

Moves a gauntlet that isn't holding his glaive up to lightly tap his chin as if thinking

He hasn't lost himself completely to the Forgiven nature, for the creatures all seem to come to a point where they no longer understand right from wrong, and see every soul as a meal. Quite hard to control when they reach that point

Pauses, rustling his wings a bit

And yet we have our curious case that is Deimos…whom is highly favored by the Goddess of Justice, the one whom we serve and keep the Forgiven in check

Still don't know what she sees in the bastard, considering what he was, what he had done, and what he still can do

Hidden gaze shifts, taking note of the creature that seemed to be chirping to itself, the over to Malcolm for a few moments, then returning to Phalakros

Bluntly, We could care less what fight or war that happened recently. It didn't take part in our world, but for some creature in our world to intervene without permission could greatly upset a delicate balance, something which we would prefer avoiding.

(Phalakros) He chuckles, shaking his head sorrowfully.

“Delicate balance? The creature I have served was a harbinger of chaos. The only balance is the nature of the multiverse itself. This place exists outside of mine multiverse, of yours, of any! You damned hypocrites!”

He collapses to the ground again, in tears once more.

(Malcolm) He slowly sits up and flashes Phalakros an obscene gesture.

“Fucking idiot organics,”he croaks.

He turns away, holding his head again.

(???) He narrows his eyes at the angel creature, displeased that he seemed to know his location. He then turns to Phalakros, pondering if he was close to ‘demigod’ he spoke of. He glares at Malcolm when speaks, and a long finger taps his chin as he considers the wisdom of eating the old man.

(Phalakros) He notices Malcolm’s movement and growls at him.

“You influenced all of this madness! If you had done nothing, then Lucitius would be alive and Deimos would not be getting the punishment you deserve!”

(Malcolm) He groggily looks up, gazing at Phalakros with absolute disinterest.

(Phalakros) “Damn you!”

(Malcolm) “Fuck off,”he quietly snorts.

(Phalakros) He stands again, looking between the angelic being and Malcolm with hateful eyes. Tears still stream down his face.

???: Another sigh escapes the armored male, seeming to move his hand upwards to rest where his brow would be underneath the helm. Seems to mutter a few choice words under his breath, before allowing his hand to slide down and back to his side

A servant of chaos…that explains many things

Huffs, the white wings upon his back suddenly moving, starting to lift him off the ground

I do not have time to explain obvious things. So I take my leave, the Goddess will most likely want a report when I am back, as well as to decide what to do with the 'beast'

With a single flap, moves towards the great rift where the last of the winged, armored figures fly into, soon disappearing and clearing up as if nothing had ever happened

---

Silence seems to have descended upon the place for some time, before that silence was suddenly broken by soft chirrups. It isn't long, before a small dragon, only the size of a cat, is seen flying a few feet, then swiftly retreating back again, as if it were waiting for someone.

Sure enough, a young woman steps tentatively into the clearing. She doesn't seem to notice those before her, gaze trained ahead. A traveling cloak is wrapped around her body. The young woman seemed human for the most part, except for the draconic tail that trailed behind her

???: Cyril? This isn't home, is it?

In response to the woman's question, the small dragon seems to give a few upset chirrups, though it turns its head towards those still present in the clearing. The creature gives a few shrill shrieks, as if sounding a warning

???: There are others yes…hopefully they mean no harm…

---

Me: And the young dragon prophetess currently in her human form; Celosia - Celosia

(Me) Ooh, she’s cool.

(Phalakros) He crumples again as the angelic individual leaves. At the sound of a woman’s voice, he jumps up, looking at her shakily.

(Malcolm) He glances up at the woman and rolls his eyes, looking away.

(???) He scrutinizes the young woman cautiously, but is contented that the armored beings had left. He approaches the group, his long-fingered hands entwined at his waist.

He wears an old black robe with two large seams of red and gold thread. He is overall an elegant individual with a slender figure, strong shoulders, pale skin, hypnotic blue eyes that dimly glow, and shoulder-length black hair. He appears around his twenties, but he holds the air of someone far older. His feet, though barely seen, are insectile, with two large claws that lightly click as he walks. On his left middle finger is a gold ring, and around his neck is a gemstone necklace with an onyx pendant shaped like a beetle.

“Greetings to all,”he says, his voice heavily accented by clicking chirps.

He stops nearby, standing tall, an imposing posture fitting for a military leader.

(???) A few moments later, another creature abruptly appears. The eight foot tall, grey-skinned, golden-eyed creature looks around with a cheery grin and bows. His aristocratic clothes are soaked in fresh blood.

“Well hello, I am Goldergon! How wonderful to see so many faces! And speaking of faces, I’ll think I’ll take this one!”

The creature walks over to Malcolm and snatches him by the hair, his short claws tearing into Malcolm’s face. He cackles loudly and vanishes, taking Malcolm with him.

(Me) ’And, he’s dead.’ Goldergon is mostly likely my worst homicidal maniac, so yeah. I couldn’t help bringing him in, even breifly. He might return, but for now, he’s gone.

(Phalakros) He stares in horror at the now empty chair where Malcolm had been sitting. He then snickers, sitting down again.

(De Tearion) He blinks, stunned.

“I have known a few Vanishers, yet that one be one of the most bloodthirsty I have ever glimpsed.”

He shakes his head and shrugs.

Celosia: The woman seems to turn her head at the different sounds, movement. Her tail seems to curl up between her legs.

The small dragon comes to land on the woman's shoulder. Despite it having such a small stature, the creature is glaring at the group nearby. It curls its lips up, showing tiny fangs, releasing a growl

She moves a hand upwards, resting it under the dragon's jaw

Come little Cyril…We are in no position to fight

Her body seems to stiffen at the sudden cold voice of the second creature. The small dragon emits a few shrill, harsh barks at the sudden attack, clearly ready to move should anyone make a approach

The woman seems to shrink more into herself, voice soft

That scent…blood…Cyril, find somewhere to rest

The dragon on her shoulder growls, remaining on its perch though then chirps softly, nuzzling its head against her cheek, then pointing its head to what appeared to be a seat of some kind. The little creature lifts off her shoulder, hovering nearby, but constantly shooting a glare over every now and then to the people and creatures present, still clearly on edge

She is slow as she walks, though eventually comes to the seat, settling down. She pulls her cloak closer to her body, her tail which is covered in silver scales curling against her side. The small dragon moves, coming to land and settle into her lap. The woman starts to slowly pet the little creature, as it continues to watch

---

Me: Mmm, gotta love the bloodthirsty ones

(Me) I’ve got so many. snickering

(Phalakros) He watches the woman warily, but the sight of Cyril reminds him of Eilander and he slowly starts to calm down.

He glances at the other newcomer, looking him up and down with caution.

(???) “I am peaceful, youth. I also know better than to underestimate another.”

He turns to gaze between the two reptilian creatures and sighs. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Hours, or days? Why was it always difficult to tell?

(Phalakros) He stares a moment, then clears his throat.

“I… I am Phalakros. I usually never had much interaction with others without Lucitius. Yet, he is dead now.”

(???) He bows deeply at the introduction. When he straightens, he shakes his head, sending his hair scattering across his shoulders.

“My full name be difficult for others to say, thus you may call me by my family name, De Tearion.”

He turns to the female, scrutinizing her curiously. He hadn’t seen many reptilian creatures in his home. Why now?

(Phalakros) “De Tearion? I… I think Lucitius met a De Tearion once.”

(De Tearion) He raises an eyebrow at that.

“I believe I would remember such an encounter.”

(Phalakros) He blinks then shrugs.

(De Tearion) He turns away, once more eyeing the female.

“Your name?”

(Phalakros) He glances over as well, but quickly returns to staring at De Tearion. He notices the man’s feet and his eyes widen.