songerein | Heart of Darkness

Entry tags:

Heart of Darkness

Who: Agents of IMP: DMC
Which: Closed
Where: The Wastelands
What: The crew rescues Stolas from smoke dragons and nightmare monsters that took him
Warnings: Violence, a very angry teen, verbal abuse and the trauma from it in Stolas' dream

The young owl was hysterical when she returned to the office of IMP: DMC. She interrupted the relatively normal day with tears and a recounting of what happened: she and Stolas went to the Wastelands to study the dark crystals mentioned on the quest board. It went horribly wrong; one of them came to life and attacked. Stolas fought back, but it all happened so quickly and the last thing she knew, she was flung through a portal to safety. Stolas stood behind to ensure his daughter could escape.

Octavia refused to stay behind, despite all of the running and the emotional high. She had to help save her dad, plus she could take them to where she saw him last. She compromised with a moment's rest, a bottle of water and a moment to dry her tears.

Once everyone's ready, they head out and stand at the boundary of the Wastelands. This close, the creeping sensation of nightmare energy make hair and feathers stand up in warning: the threat of danger will surround them, even before an enemy comes into view. Uninhabitable lands imprison the goetic prince, the beasts that dwell within it his wardens. A very loud prison break is about to begin.

"We took this path." She calls out, walking the group through her footsteps. Some of her feathers are jet black and her eyes glowing a bright pink, the true form of the goetic princess hungry for further provocation in even one monster getting in her way.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And like that, the voices were quieted, his breath ragged as the storm abated... or at least retreated. Who...?

Alastor. It was almost funny. "Ella... Fitzgerald. Nice." Walking was hard with legs made of jelly, but at the very least he could stagger along. Something about that had left him badly winded, like he'd just run a marathon... and Stolas was still nowhere to be found. Not good. "How long... can you keep that up?"

It was getting pretty exhausting trying to keep this up, especially since Dante's contributions weren't musical. Would've synchronized better if it was. Fortunately, the efforts of another filled in the role much better than Dante could have; right now, he's pretty pleased to know several cool Alastors in his life.

"Classy." He admits. A pretty appropriate tune, too, for pushing through this goddamn storm.

Via was squeezing Blitz's hand, doing her best to push forward with the imp by her side. This goddamn storm was becoming a pain in the ass and keeping up her singing through the storm was getting difficult.

But thankfully, Alastor came to the rescue and a smile returned to the owl's face right away. The barrier got a much needed reinforcement and with a nod to Blitz, they and the others are able to keep pushing ahead, with Octavia changing her tune to match Alastor's song. In an almost poetic fashion, the storm finally passes as the song nears its end, leaving only the normal air of nightmare energy and sand keeping mostly to the ground. The moment of peace offered the group a chance to collect themselves after all that, a moment Octavia seized to show some appreciation to the group's rescuer with an inescapable hug.

"You came!" She praised. "At just the right time, too."

The moment bringing additional good news as she gestures just ahead.

"Over there. That's where I saw dad last."

When the group arrived at where the owls were last together, there was no sign of the goetic prince or the dragon they encountered. After all the heart pumping urgency to reach the gorge, it was eerily still. Octavia could plainly see that the dark crystal was no longer in the spot that it once was. Where could they have gone? In their absence, traces of their presence scarred the landscape. Signs of two titans battling it out were carved into the hill side. Rocks were splintered and part of the cave entrance had collapsed from something slamming into it with great force. Those with discerning eyes could make out two distinct sets of animal tracks. One looked more reptilian while the other was reminiscent of that of a large avian. Whatever happened, it looked like a vicious fight.

With the dragon absent the question remained, where was Stolas?

Turning over every stone, there was no sign of the goetic demon in the gully. However, along the ridge above the fallen cavern something fluttered. Upon closer examination of the rock wall nearest the hollow was a narrow pass, big enough for a person to scale. It led up and around to the top of the hill the cave was burrowed into. From there you had a great view back across the Wasteland to see slivers of green. But this was no time to take in the sights. The scene that laid out before them was far more gruesome. The fluttering that caught their eyes was a piece of cloth that belonged to a deceased noctaere. There were several more dismembered bodies of hideous creatures that littered the ground, their inky black fluids staining the sand. Amongst their remains a familiar violet bag with needle point stars stitched into its fabric laid forgotten. If one was to look inside they would find Stolas' new grimoire he was working on along with the missing crystal. More alarming yet was that the nightmare creature's essence wasn't the only color soaked into the parched soil.

Crimson.

A malevolent painter splattered scarlet hues against the rocks with tuffs of slate gray feathers beside them. Signs of a struggle were etched into the sand. Clear drag marks ventured further into the mountainous terrain. Even those not sensitive to magic could feel the ominous presence of powerful nightmare energy leading in that direction.

There were a lot of different instincts compelling Blitzø to act - does he shield the kids' eyes? Shout for Stolas? Scout the area for safety?

It wasn't until he was already sliding down the side of the gulch and leaping over the gore to snag the satchel and start following the drag marks that he realized his legs made his choice for him. He slung the satchel over his shoulder and took out his trusty pistol, breaking into a run along the bloodied drag marks, ears ringing sharply with tinnitus. He was gonna fucking kill whatever he found at the end of this that wasn't a grey owl. Sparks were popping off of his boots with every step, angry and red.

Edited 2023-02-02 00:58 (UTC)

Fortunately the hug had been brief. He didn't like to be touched unless he initiated it. Octavia had received an awkward headpat during the hug as he'd kept singing.

When they reached where Prince Stolas had last been seen, Alastor paced around the area slowly, eyeballing it with a hunter's eye. What jumped out to him the most were the avian tracks.

"Miss Octavia, how often does your father use his full demon form?"

Because if his guess was right, they were about to have a much bigger problem on their hands than an injured Ars Goetia.

"Only when he absolutely has to."

The marks on the stone said all it needed to. He turned full demon for this battle and waited until Octavia was safe before using it. She observed the spatters of crimson, her chest tightening.

"Here, it draws on negative energy. He was surrounded by it. It attracted more monsters. Dad..."

Sure, he handled them, as the corpses demonstrated, but he's still missing. There's no hiding Octavia's worry and the urge to cry once again, but she gripped the sword and followed after Blitz. She'll have a good cry once she and Stolas are back home.

Nightmare energy and full demon forms. Yeah. This was something he'd encounter in a dream, wouldn't he? It was all close to home.

He swept his tongue across chapped lips and swore under his breath. Blitz had taken off and Denji was quick after him.

"Oi, oi! We're comin' too!" He raised the axe handle and bit down to keep a hold of it in his mouth for now. Call it a force of habit, and not because he had a canine devil soul in his body. Whatever the case, he slid down the ravine and picked up the pace.

He'd freed his hands to vault over stone and debris to keep working on shortening the gap.

The nightmare energy ahead was palpable. Would that she had G'raha here, perhaps they could concoct something more potent to counteract it and provide a safe zone, but she had to make do with what she had.

Her hands at her skirts to hike them higher, she hunched slightly and sped off. Even in heels, she knew how to haul.

"Twelve forfend... I can only hope he'll be able to pull out of it..."

He stood- staggered, really, to his feet. This was bullshit and he wasn't going to let it stop him because none of this mattered. His Persona didn't want to work? Fine.

He drew his sword instead, the edge wavering slightly with radiant heat, a hint of the fire that burned within the steel. "Don't... even fucking talk like that. We'll get him. We'll take him home. And if he can't pull himself out of whatever the hell this is, then we'll be there with a fucking rope."

Winding through the broken teeth of stone, it was like a maze as they ascended higher. If not for the bread crumbs of red droplets, it would have made searching every crevice difficult. Rounding the bend of a rocky outcropping the imp who was bull rushing ahead was struck with sheer malice as if running head long into a brick wall.

A little further up the path there was an immense cave, its mouth gaping wide. The entrance was clouded by a sea of black and crumpled figures, swarming like giant ants. Noctaere. And, of course, the trail of blood led straight into the hoard. At first the hellish creatures didn’t take note of the invaders, going about whatever business they had. Above the opening was another one of those strange dark crystals. However, it looked artificially placed as if someone or something had jammed it into the earth. It reacted as the party drew near, releasing its black smog that snaked up the cliff face taking life. The obsidian dragon the smoke took the shape of clung to the rock with its massive claws setting its eyes down on them. As if sounding the alarm, the dragon bellowed and the previously indifferent nightmare creatures turned letting out their own screech in response before they raced down to meet them.

His heart stilled as the smoke billowed and formed a dragon. An actual, honest-to-shit dragon... and it was calling some cronies to come down and render them to dogfood.

The numbers were impressive. ...He spat out the axe handle and let the tool his the sand.

"Okay... You guys need a way inside. I'll cut one open." It felt natural, like all the other times he'd done it. Pochita surely wouldn't just bark this time, would he? As he reached between two buttons of his shirt, his finger hooked the loop. With a sharp shift of his arm, the cord was given a solid yank.

From his body, an engine roared.

"Always the good feeling before the pain..." He sighed, a cloud of steam. Rather than letting the group race down to meet them, he'll just meet 'em in the middle...

"...But Denji EARNS HIS FUCKIN' KEEP TODAY!" With a burst of his own blood, a chainsaw blade erupted from his head. Two more split his arms from elbow to palms. Some form of nightmare energy coalesced into an orange helm forming jaws of pointed teeth, power lights flickering on as he sped ahead.

"GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE WAY!" Tongue lolling, he hurtled into the front line of the group and threw his arms outward, chains abuzz in full throttle. Swords were cool and all, but who the hell tried to block or parry chainsaws?

Oh. You don't see that every day. But her Echo kicked right on to helpfully shift gears.

...So this was his soul's music...?

Well now she's heard everything, even music comprised of chaos.

She raised her arm and the nouliths lifted on high, glowing as they charged a laser array. May as well give covering fire!

If Octavia's being honest with herself, the chainsaw thing is really cool. And the accompanying music? Yeah, that's definitely helping to put her in the right mood. She tensed upon seeing the smoke dragon once again, intimidating as it was, but knowing that it and the noctaere it called upon stood between them and her father was more than enough for the owl to steel herself.

With Dante in hand, she can follow behind Denji and make sure the ones that try to stand back up instead stay down. Stabbing through some, flinging one enemy into others, the tried and true fireball to blow up a group of them whenever they're grouped up enough.

But that fucking dragon...she's coming for that bastard.

Alastor's eyes narrowed at not the smoke monster but the crystal beneath it. That thing was clearly planted there. And given the smoke dragon came from it, it was possible the two were connected to one another.

He darted forward, eyes focused on the crystal as he summoned his microphone. His grin widened as he used it to aim a concussive blast of pure sound at the crystal.

It was possible to shatter glass with sound. How well would a crystal fare? Or would he need to find the right pitch/volume first?

In a rare display of silence and focus, Blitzø hasn't said a damn thing, taking a few pot shots at the Noctaere swarm.

But the vibration - the way Alastor was making that crystal shake caught his attention again. Right. Must be important. Taking the few seconds to aim his shot, Blitzø pulled the trigger and let the bullet strike the crystal, helping Alastor along to hopefully shatter the damn thing.

Watching as the others fell into line to engage the enemy was... infuriating. Why now. He'd had a handle on this. He was over this.

No. He was thinking about it wrong. Remember the lessons. Dreamotion was born of emotional connection. Personas were born from bonds with others. He just needed to keep calm and tune out the omnipresent nightmare. He was here to help Stolas. He needed to help Stolas.

Captain Nemo was faltering because he was feeling disconnected. Reach out to the faint sense of that connection... The Emperor. Right?

"Please," he muttered, reaching for the mask again, pulling. "Persona." And there it was again, flaring to life in blue-white fire, turning towards the crystal with blade spinning as if in a dance-

Rakunda, a helix of blue smoke sent spinning towards the crystal, sinking into it, weakening its hardened surface and leaving hairline cracks even as the spell faded.

It worked. He breathed a sigh of relief. "The crystal's defenses are down. Break it!"

He roared as he tore through a line of noctaeres, black ichor flying high to stain his shirt alongside his own blood. The pain of the chain teeth continually cutting through his own flesh drove out those pesky down feelings and the freaky Makima eyes he'd seen- his own stupid nightmares of someone he doesn't gotta worry about anymore- and gave way to the sheer glee of being in his natural element.

"Hehhh...? Ain't it polite to make way for royalty?! You're all pretty fuckin' rude!" He swung and he swung in his steady advance with wild abandon and equal laughter, catching the swinging limbs, arms legs or anything within the horde in reach. Those that charged ahead would get a friendly headbutt, a saw smoothly working through like a hot knife through butter.

"HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!" He picked up his pace and the chains roared higher. All he needed to do was open the path...!

Madhuri moved swiftly from the back. Individual shields for each to stave off the nightmare energy. But something was like alarm bells in her mind. Someone was taking steady damage...

Hmm. She'll keep an eye out for that with a regenerative effect. But eyes on the prize. She didn't have positive ID on Prince Stolas yet, and this scaly nuisance demanded to be heard.

The noctaere can barely hold together against the group's assault. From bullets to swords to numerous chainsaws, they're hardly a challenge for the group of murder professionals.

The real threat proves to be the smoke dragon, notably more resilient than the smallfry and able to call in more with a simple roar, both keeping the metaphorical alarm ringing and standing in their way. Of all of the attacks it predicted, concentrated sound wasn't among them. While its smoky exterior can harden to attack the group directly or loosen to let attacks go right through it, the concussive blast causes ripples along its exterior, plus an audible crack that comes from within its frame.

Its smoke hardens as a reaction, glowing red eyes bearing down on Alastor in particular as it pulls its head back and heaves a breath of concentrated nightmare energy over the group. Dangerous for any non-noctaere to come in contact with, especially as its breath begins to reanimate the scattered chunks of smaller enemies that crawl or limp back into the fight.

Well, well, well. Either that was a lucky shot or this thing had no idea how to deal with sound.

Of course, he now had the problem with being the target of its ire. His shadow darted away behind it, Alastor teleporting to its location at the last moment to keep the smoke dragon from redirecting its blast.

The moment his feet met solid ground again, he aimed with his microphone and upped the volume and pitch of another blast of pure sound aimed at the crystal.

The dragon reared its head, inhaled-

and he had no defensive options. Already too exhausted to move. Nothing for it, then.

He ripped his mask free one last time. "Break them." The blue-white fire of Megido lanced across the battlefield, striking everything in sight- and hopefully giving ample room for the others to clean house, because a split second later he was face-tanking nightmare-powered dragonfire.

Oh shit, that's evil looking dragon fire, son of a bitch. Even if she were to try and block it, that's a lot of concentrated nightmare energy. Blocking it with Dante isn't the best idea, but it's what comes to mind and it's better than nothing.

It still leaves the owl smoking after the attack passes. Maybe Dante had a point in becoming a Devil Arm to protect her, but she can work on improving her reflexes later; right now, Akechi's in far worse state than she is and Madhuri's got her hands full as is. Thank Satan for her barriers. Octavia decides it's time to redirect her efforts towards some healing, channeling her song into whatever Dreamotion deems appropriate for the situation.

♫Rise high, high above our rivals
Spread our wings, spread them wide, let them guide
Hereby free to ever slumber
Open the door, close our eyes, we are the dreamers♫

Her song's healing is focused on Akechi, working to get him back on his feet.

Slow, slow, things getting back up and getting in the way and he just wants to find his stupid tall owl and get out of this horrible place.

"VIA! Pass him!" Blitzø called, running up behind her and going to grab his transformed co-boss. Once she passed it to him, he equipped it, already jogging ahead. "Let's take over protecting the kids, buddy."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject