Cauldron of Rebirth

Cauldron of Rebirth
Date of Scene:	14 August 2013
Location:	Golmore Jungle
Synopsis:	Things keep going wrong for our heroes down in the jungle. Things get worse the tainted earth coughs up one very angry undead dragon. Even with the backup from Angantyr and his new Keyblade? Will it be enough to over come the tide of the undead?
Cast of Characters:	Tifa Lockhart, Avira, Vespa, Minerva, Angantyr Vespar, Firion, Arthur Drover

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Arthur Drover has posed:
It had all been going so well.

Now things had gone from bad to worse. The camp was stable yesterday, people smiled, laughed, experienced moments of joy and human interaction. Now there are only the dead. It had begun, if anyone had noticed, with a faint discoloration of the earth near the east wall where the slope was lowest. This was by the storehouse where salted goods were kept - things laid down for protracted siege or emergency. It would have remained totally unnoticed if not for a gate guard trying to have a quiet nap. He was eaten. The words "Let that be a lesson to you" are extremely redundant and in bad taste, what the hell is wrong with you.

The zombies budded out of their earth like their mortal enemy, the daisy. And enacting the tried and true tactics of this erstwhile foe - they stood there not doing very much. Until further movement came within sight and they began to shamble.

The defenders of the camp are a motley bunch - warriors in the truest sense mix with smithcrafting apprentices and engineers who had volunteered to work with cool new technology. An apprentice under Avira or Arthur could learn a thing or two about the design of systems.

But tonight they are learning about abject terror. The camp was well drilled. Arthur is a paranoid obsessive compulsive with chronic insomnia - of course the camp was well drilled.

Things were already in motion at the first massive groan, right before the shambling hulking zombie main vanguard outside the wall - which had been growing under it and rising through the earth- smashed the part of the wall the dearly departed guard was supposed to blow the horn over.

The non-combatants are marshalled, some roughly, some with eagerness, into a circle by the fire. At the center of them, radiating calm is Mr. Farnsworth - chef in a tight spot and a man who has seen many an interesting thing.

This is just one more. Others are mixing between cowardice and nervous defiance, but the trained fighters form a ring around them - eminently defensible, back to back. There are armaments aplenty. Arthur's policy is that men have not only a right, but a responsibility to bear arms - and Avira the hunter is right with him on that one. There are gummi grenades, caraffes of holy water, and more esoteric implements to hand. The technical amount of fourth-hand schmutter and brick-a-brack through the whole camp adds up to approximately four decagyvers.

Spiked barricades are being knocked up and fiery torches brandished. There are undead throughout the camp, more an amorphous blob than a single foe to fight, and this is the largest wave yet. As if someone had taken hold of the beating heart of darkness and squeezed out a gushing artery worth. Arthur himself isn't even in there. Shall we watch him kick himself?

The smith had gone out at dawn and was just now returning, as he'd told Avira he would change his plan and come back by sixth watch. He is none the wiser. Undead exist throughout the jungle, but nowhere near the numbers converging on the camp. It seems the void point causes all kinds of trouble - he had found a cave at the mouth of the river, but did not wish to investigate alone for fear of being cut off.

He comes back to the sound of screams, knowing that somewhere in there his partner lurks, and that he's on the wrong side of the invading army.

Moving with speed that would surprise those who have seen his deliberately unassumingly clumsy gait in kinder company, the forgemaster drives a piton into the living wood of a tree and uses the handhold to climb the otherwise slick and mildewy surface. From the air, he seeks for that damned beetle - and wonders how the various hired and free inhabitants of the camp are getting on.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart wuold rather play with the daisies than with the zombies... But flowers don't harness sun power easily when its in the middle of the night. That might be why they called upon some extra help. Because apparently some zombies do get smart enough to realize that last part.

As for Lifa, she wishes she could say that she didn't know what she was getting into. But, no, its not the first time she ran into zombies. There was that time in haloween town where she was looking like one herself. Ugh, she still feels icky from it even. But this time she's on the giving end of it, so it shouldn't stain more than her leather clothes, and that can be washed.

As long as they don't feed on her brains at least. She heard that left marks.

She finishes putting up the last parts of the barricades up, as she slips through to stand outside of it with the others present, making sure that the way is barred behind her correctly. The encampement setup in front of the gates feel like much of a decoy, its like as if everyone here was being sent to their doom to keep them away from the town. One can hope that's not the real reason at least, because there's alot of people involved in this scheme. She carries with her some bottles of water, tossing one over to Avira as she carries some to the other groups of people around. "Are we all ready for this? I got a bad feeling about this, but sticking together is the best option yet..."

Avira has posed:
The 'Beetle' is a literal giant beetle easily the size of a small Volkswagon. He is a familiar sight to any member of VALKYRI and commonly used as Avira's mount.

These past few days have been quite a lesson in group tactics for Avira. Like most things in her life, technique was learned through vicious trial-by-fire, right now being no exception. Those more versed in melee fighting have been assigned spots outside the barricade, though by each one, several people with ranged techniques-be it magic, shotguns, or the gummi technology, are posted to prevent those fighters from becoming overwhelmed. Each melee fighter has also been assigned a dedicated healer responsible for slinging potions or white magic. Everyone was assigned a role when the attack suddenly became extremely heavy. Whether or not those roles would be adhered to at this point when the heat was

Avira is outside the barricade and the Steelclaw beetle is with her, used primarily as a shield, though quite dangerous in its own right as it snaps oncoming undead in half with its enormous pincers. For a living opponent he'd no doubt be a terrifying sight, displaying this much agression.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
The undead swarmed the defenses of the camp like a force of nature. They were numerous, tireless, dead...they killed at ate anything that was living, they served no purpose but the one that summoned them gave them...or their own veracious appitites.

But there was one person that Avira could call on, one person that was himself like a force of nature. When engaged, was nearly unabled to be stopped, and could destroy mass numbers of anything that stood against him with a single swipe of the mace...

At least that was one upon a time ago. He no longer swung a mace...

A dark portal appears near the center of camp, stepping out of it was a large man, with dark armor...more like a Dark Knight on a budget than the Palamecian or Baran types. The mace he weilds is not on his back today, but he strides forward nonetheless, slowly starting to approach the outer defences of the camp. "If you are not used to fighting, stay back and man a ranged weapon. Those of you who can weild a shield and spear, do so. Form a defensive barrier..." he says, looking towards Avira. "Unless you got a better idea, I think I'll take to this like I am want to do..."

And with that Angantyr's hand is held out infront of him. The motion is familar to those who know Keyblade weilders. As with a flash of light, a strange Keyblade appears into the hand of the Dark Knight. The weapon itself was not a weapon like Sora's or Mickey's. Angnatyr's weapon was obviously a weapon of destruction...bladed and wicked looking...but despite that there were light metal portions...as well as dark red portions that contained the more wicked edges.

The name was ingraved into the hearts of those who fought oppression, and feared by those who were tyrants.

The Tyrant Breaker.

A surge of darkness comes through Angantyr, the metal starting to change, as the technique infuses his armor with the properties of the abyss itself.

And then Angantyr DIVES into the battle, not even caring what surrounds him. The song of battle fills his ears, and he starts calling upon the darkness to lay destruction on his foes.

Vespa has posed:
Vespa catches one of the bottles of water "Thanks.", she said drinking from it. She need to be hyrated for the battle ahead. She been doing alot of tree cutting for the wood of the barrier,her axe is very suited for that. She standing o and not she is outside of it. She woudn't have it any other way. "Let's stay close, but not too close give me enough room to swing Al.", she say poiting at her axe.

"Your ready Al? Let's get to it then!"

Firion has posed:
A cloaked man in Azure armor arrived earlier today, covered in charred gore. Apparently he had decided to get started ahead of time. It looks good on a resume at least.

And his resume? Well that would be the veritable arsenal that he was carrying. That and the likely references given by those in the camp. Helping VALKYRI to defeat his majesty 'Defy me at your peril' tended to earn you those sorts of brownie points. Today he actually gave a name, 'Guy'. What? Noone ever accused him of having an extraordinary amount of imagination, at least he didn't use the pseudonym 'Leon'. He had favored Avira with a friendly, though bashful greeting.

He wasn't given too much time for pleasantries. The dead marched, and they were already on the camp in a teeming throng. Well, this was something he could understand, and do something about at least. He was arranged near the non-combatants at first, whistling, "That is a lot of them." He looks over his shoulder remaking to Mister Farnsworth, "...you may have to start dinner a little late tonight, this might take a while."

Advancing forward casually, he moves to stand beside Avira and the /BEETLE/ outside of the barricade. He actually gives the beetle a little pat on it's shell. "So any gameplan besides diving right in?" Wisps of white smoke begin to rise off his armor, as he grins infectiously at VALKYRI's leader, "Not that that isn't all sorts of fun."

A bow finds its way into his hands inexplicably, while a mace and sword rise out of their sheath and scabbard respectively, floating around him as if wielded by unseen hands. A moment later, the weapons burst into a blaze of white flame, and so does the man himself. Yet he doesn't appear to be at all harmed from the experience.

Avira has posed:
"I was hoping those on the barricade could thin the oncoming horde a little and provide fire cover for those of us fighting in front of it. Any healers need to stick to the barricade too so they can throw down to those fighting hand to hand if something goes wrong." Avira's quick to say, lifting her weapon, "If it's got a head, take it off! Anything responsible for mobility comes next! Targets that can hurl around magic are priority targets! If another dracolich shows up-"

Yeah. There had been one sometime earlier.

"-unload the phoenix-patterned gummi grenades with /extreme prejudice/!"

Minerva has posed:
Minerva had been lucky she'd been able to get some rest in the night before and she was going to need it. She was up again on the wall but what might be a bit of a shock was she had a longsword strapped across her back. She may be tired she could run out of the energy to make use of her actual abilities at this point given how long the siege has been going? She chose to be a bit more on the cautious side of things. She's already got things going pretty well.

She continues to keep ready but shows there's no intent to waste but the time for rest is over as she moves to join Avira and Angantyr.

"So once more we fight along side each other...."

She pauses at Ang for a moment and she nods.

"Tis a good plan my friend."

She trails off looking at The Tyrant Breaker for a long moment. She remains silent on it as she will have to ask Ang about the weapon later she drops into a ready stance as she forms up planing to fight along side him and Avira.

"I will say this I never wanted for a fight since I arrived in these worlds. Tis a shame many have no mind to be true foes."

The undead were dangerous, she respected what they could do but there was no mind, no skill to them often and that is what she often lacked in a foe in the end.

Arthur Drover has posed:
The camp is alive from the air. More than one fire has sprung up in firepits set up for this purpose. Fire is not employed as a weapon except in dire emergencies- but sand buckets are nearby. That allows them to damp down the flames with suffocation instead of risking spreading chemical fires with a water splash. Tifa is not alone in distributing drink and even food to the defenders. They chug deeply - they have been taught not to be genteel. A few are passing bowmen, and it is these who raise their fists in salute to Angantyr's command. They follow him. They don't move as quickly, but anywhere his blade has merely rended a creature in half or blown it backward, they finish off zombies with flaming arrows. A few of them are holding liquid bottles which they use to hastily bless their bows with blown liquid and a murmured prayer.

They close around the keyblade wielder - even his intimidation can instill no fear in these creatures, but he enjoys more breathing room than most. The darkness of the night might yield to his keen eyes and show hulking shapes in the distance, one larger than the others.

Vespa finds there are bare sight lines she can move down - set up for those combatants who need an uncommon amount of room. There are even maps of defensible choke points tacked by the exits from the stockade. Red circles dot these, and Avira would know what those are for.

The colossal beetle might spit at the nasty taste of the dead he is rending, but he is resolute and mere zombies can do little to him. A few gargoyles - decaying, dripping acid, swoop down on Avira to try and drop their payloads. They probably see the beetle's armored shell as a big target to be dissolved and eaten. What even is with that? Why do the undead eat us? I mean how good is the afterlife really if you're always hungry. Are there no McKefkas in hell? I refuse to believe that.

The ground beneath Angantyr erupts in sudden grasping hands, as zombies try to get a grip on him from the earth itself. It appears they really are rising up, in addition to being tough enough to survive Arthur's traps. He'd found several tripped in the woods - they were getting hit, there were just too many.

Even as Avira makes her explanation and the acid bombing run occurs, a creature - all teeth and limbs - comes leaping from the trees toward Firion's face to try and bite it off. It is purple. That probably means it is poisonous.

The mayhem is incalculable, and only the small aura of calm at the middle stamps it out. To judge from the attack on Angantyr they are trying to go "under" the ground but hitting difficulty closer to the middle of camp - perhaps they can find no place to emerge or it takes a lot of effort to go that far. The way the dead move through the ground isn't by tunnelling, they just seem to meld through it either via natural magic or malign intent alone. They are in one place and then another, leaving corrupted earth in their wake. One such creature emerges just behind Minerva - pincering Avira, Firion, and the Monk between the tooth-beast and acid dive, and a purple zombie that is breathing some kind of corrosive agent in huge gulping gasps. It has the worst breath in the world and it is happy to see you.

Arthur doesn't have any cool moves, he doesn't have flaming blades and he will never be a keyblade wielder - just mundane traps. But when he sees the fighting and its state he takes time to nock an arrow.

He aims down the bow and fires a shot, ensuring he remains unseen during.

In that precise moment a burst of light begins at one end of the palisade - bright as sunlight. His arrow hit something with a coalition of gummis strapped to it. Light travels down the chain connecting it to the next, and then the next. Light floods the square, illuminating the enemies, making the more "intelligent" undead squint, and making the distant form of a dragon all too evident. It is bigger than the last one. It roars through broken vocal cords - a sound that is all the more menacing for the way it sounds like a pig being slaughtered instead of an intimidating resounding bellow.

Arthur watches the valves open up as healing magic flows through the camp itself, starting near the gate where Avira's beetle stands, and ballooning outward in a aerosolized vapor. So that's what he was burying yesterday morning.His tree begins to shake and something claws his leg. Guess he didn't go unseen after all. He tumbles from the branch and rolls down a nearby embankment.

His bow and quiver are caught on the tree and left behind.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa is caught off guard, as she still had a handful of bottles in her arms to distribute, when the undead closes down upon them like that, plus the poisonous breath too. She urks, trying to cover her mouth, but its a bit too late for that. She can feel the numbness in her limbs spreading, but looks like she didn't breath too much of it at least.

She falls back a step, looking toward the approaching zombie... and she grabs the remaining bottles of water, flinging them with all of her might one by one at the purple zombie "Shut that mouth down for heaven's sake!" The stench, my god!

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr is caught off guard by the hands from the earth, he didn't realize that they had already tained the earth! This is bad...

Bites and claws, bad breath and poison fall on the Dark knight...but the Song of battle keeps him going. Angantyr swings, uncaring about the monsters surrounding him! But he did notice the breath they gave him...they were afraid of him, though they might be fearless undead, SOMETHING on the other end IS however...

There is another dragon, whights cloaked...and more going under the earth.

"UNDERGROUND! FORM LINES! Damn it! All the times to not have a white mage to purify the earth! The good for nothing church is still absent from here I see!" Angantyr curses...

But then he swings again and again, aiming to clear waves of undead with each swing. The Keyblade cutting through undead flesh as easily as it does Heartless.
5r And then he dives up...and then DOWN right towards the Purple Zombie, aiming to cleave it...and EVERYTHING around it.

Turning, Angantyr swings once more, the force of his swing aiming to knock down another wave of the undead, allowing the beetle to trample.

Firion has posed:
He listens to VALKYRI's leader nodding in response to her plans. Unfortunately she was cut off by something jumping forward in an attempt to literally eat his face off. It was all teeth and limbs, and reflexively a dagger sprang into his offhand. He tosses it, in one of its many maws. That didn't stop it's momentum, and he definitely takes the brunt of the attack. Turning his face at the last moment to avoid it, he instead got bitten across the neck. It was times like this that he truly wished that he wore a gorget or a helm, but he had other means of protecting himself. White flames flare up around him, burning the poison, and the creature's face before it gets the oppurtunity to inject it's poison, or shatter his defenses

Growling, both weapons that are floating around him converge to bash and chop at the creature, while the bow disappears from his hands, instead there is an Adamantine shield, and a shorter dagger. He leads with that dagger, before bashing the creature fiercely to launch it away from him, then he gets up, laughing in good cheer. "Now that was embarassing." The shield and dagger disappear, and instead a lance appears in his hands, which he spins with a fluorish. "Well come on then." He taunts the creature that assaulted him, smiling with an almost eerie cheer given the ferocity of the fighting.

Avira has posed:
Firion's infectuous grin is met with one of Avira's own. She smiles back at him. "Oh and for the record." she says to the kind man, "I do think it is all sorts of fun too."

Not burning down the jungle is highly advisable! There are some viera somewhere in here that would take issue with that. Naturally, not a single native viera has been seen. All those here were ones Avira was able to hire as mercenaries. They did make spectacular archers and white mages, after all.

To get through the shell of a Steelclaw beetle is going to take a tremendous amount of effort-and a lot more acid than the stuff dumped from above at this moment. It seems to have more an effect on Avira, who does wear light armor of her own which starts to dissolve beneath the corrosive liquid.

The acid meets flesh but quickly stops as Arthur's aerosolized vapor makes contact with her skin. Avira would be thanking him for this, but suddenly boxed in by undead leaves her with very little time and more dangerous things to worry about.

Faced with attacks from above, Avira's quick to divert her attention upwards, sweeping the Spine in a skyward stroke. Ice magic, antithesis of the destructive fire semi-banned from uncontrolled deployment at the moment, roars upwards in a fierce gale. To the bystander, it almost seems like it takes the shape of a massive, snarling, snapping wolf as it climbs upwards after the flying undead.

The ground...? "GET THE HOLY WATER! SOAK THE GROUND AROUND THE BARRICADE!"

Vespa has posed:
Vespa takes up her spot, watching the undead starting to close in. "Let's get to work Al.", she smiles a bit. "You might just get a bit ditry tonight Al. Sorry.., she rushes down her line her massive axe extned in front of her cutting thought the incoming undead, then swinging her axe in a arc infront of her clearning any undead from around her. "Come on then!", she shouts at the undead horde.

Minerva has posed:
Minerva was quick perhaps a bit too quick someday as the new force of undead are pressing harder against them. She has one coming in behind he and she's not able to get away. Given the exposed skin her combat outfit has this was painful as it not only got what she wore but it also got her. She lets out a scream as it eats into her and throws off her vest trying to take some of the horrible substance with it. She's still in the fight and she's now very not a happy lady. Oh she's so very not a happy lady at this point.

Minerva's able to channel many element and her fist flare to light in a burst of holy fire.

"YOU SHALL BURN BEFORE THE LORDS FLAME CREATURES!"

She throws herself into their ranks and there's just this blast of holy fire every time she strikes out with her hands and feet and soon an aura of it is enveloping Minerva. She's just going at it without holding back today

Arthur Drover has posed:
The zombie reels at Tifa's assault - there's enough power to distract it, and the creature burns to cinders. Bottles don't normally do that. Probably one of the splashes was holy water. Or really good rum. While this gives the woman a momentary reprieve it also brings attention to her. Her breathing room becomes smaller and smaller as zombies converge and try to bite as one. They are oddly attempting to avoid attacks, as if recoiling from the fighters. But there is not enough power in those limbs to get them out of there. Vespa attempts to swipe through a variety of undead with her weapon. The zombies come on - moving from behind. They try the same trick Ang almost fell prey to, and hands jab up from the ground toward Vespa's legs, out of reach of her weapon as well. These clawed palms rake and probably carry unsavory things to leave her more drained than she was already. The camp is holding, for the time being.

Angantyr bisects the zombie, which falls to one side, spitting vapor as it does - and this rears up as if it were a living thing and tries to invade his face and nostrils, to get inside and do far more harm than good. This is not fresh air, except in the sense that if air walked up all minding your business and tried to climb inside your face you might call it "fresh" if this were an earlier era in another dimension.

He is given a lot of breathing room though as those undead who do not die are blown backwards. In fact, inasmuch as a horde of the barely sentient can be angry, they are angry at him. The dragon focuses its baleful red gaze, and something that is almost, but not totally, unlike fire comes flopping from its mouth. It is on fire, with a purple light unseen in nature, but it does not wash like a flamethrower nor pour like an acid. It bounces like a bowling ball. Where this gout of purple "something" rolls, it melts the undead it touches, and it is rolling toward the keyblade wielder, slow and implacable as the grave.

Firion's opponent tenses, moving in slowly with its animal-like intelligence. A few scythe like talons lash out to try and rend him. Apparently it wants to dance. It is a bit like a spider but has uncomfortably human hands and no discernible face.

Avira is almost back to back with him, and her shout would send camp followers moving AROUND firion and his foe in their deadly dance. The creature is unfolding, appearing bigger, but it hisses as some of the holy water rolled from a big drum washes past it. Arthur's wife had stayed up late decanting the stuff, and as it is poured in a slow circle it seems to momentarily halt the advance. Avira's strike, probably closer to Firion's circling dance than he'd like, becomes death. The creatures are from the jungle so they're less dry than your typical dessicated undead, they are in fact pretty damp. There is a lot of water to freeze, the gargoyles fall out of the sky and shatter with a death wail too close to the human for anybody's comfort.

Minerva punches a wall of the creatures and it simply falls as ash, leaving another rank, which she likewise punches. It is an almost automatic process, becoming increasingly disorganized on their end as they stumble over each other, but perplexingly this barely makes a dent in those zombies - they are rising from a nearby ravine in incredible numbers.

Arthur, fallen out of sight, is still "helping" as the beacons engage a second stage and protective magics ooze out seemingly at random. Useless to the undead, pre-encanted swords and bangles jingle on their lines. Coral rings, mage scepters, healing staves, all hung up like your neighbor's washing and they jingle in the sudden wind of a bright green gummi. The sound is like music, washing power down on the stationary defenses. He assumed it would come to this...

But the song doesn't go unanswered, even though it might be heartening. Instead the dragon lets out a roar in answer. These vocal cords aren't broken, or maybe it moved its head the right way. Either way, the undead all let out groans simultaneously, as if in answer, and they shamble with renewed vigor while a song of second-hand magical implements plays power into the defenders.

And two men shuffle with a barrel between them, shedding holy water, instead of being smart enough to simply roll it.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart might be cornered, but she's not out of options. Even though she feels slowed down by the poisonous gas, that fortunatly has stopped spewing (for some reason), she still has enough movement to outpace the zombie horde around her, jumping against the wall, and vaulting herself at the nearby tree branching, out of reach. But considering she's not a ranged fighter, that's just a moment of respite, at least she went unhurt.

It also got her out of the way of the holy water splashing, that most probably made ravages over the ground. Not that it'd hurt her, but at least she didn't serve as a shield during that moment.

Sliding herself down, she swings down using the tree branch as a pole, kicking the nearest zombie in the head to send it flying with the impact, using the momentum to flip away, behind hte group of zombies that are still standing. As soon as she lands, another high roundhouse kick lashes toward them, sending the first bowling into the others. "Too slow, you'll have to do better than that to keep up with me!"
Shehe whistles at Minerva's display of holy attacks. Well, that's something she can't do herself. She's much more physical, not much elemental.

Firion has posed:
It dances, and Firion answers by turning his foot fractionally before sweeping into a piercing thrust in an attempt to impale the spider-like creature. He tried not to think about the fact that its legs looked like human hands.

These things weren't human any longer. His mace and sword moved forward at the same time to brain and chop the creature. The tri-weapon assault, if it struck would burst into a column of flame that extended upwards into the heavens. Which is fortunate, as Gargoyles were swooping down, sounding out hollow cries in response to the call of their master. Holy water and ice magic combine to finish off most of them.

But the man in the Azure Armor had just about had enough of this. The flames around him suddenly flare ever more brightly. All of his weapons began to rise up into the air, all wielded by unseen phantom hands, spinning in a circle, before bursting into flames themselves, each of the weapons joining in lines of flame much like the spokes of a wheel, before all of them surge forward at once to strike at the Gargoyles, before surging downward into the Undead horde itself. Holy flames blazed ever hotter as it strikes into them, rendering anything that they strike to ashes in short order.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr's SUDDENLY attacked by a face hugger.

The blade catches it, he holds it away as it suddenly BURNS due to the fact that the blade is actually a light based weapon. He swings it a few times, throwing the thing to the ground. He looks towards the Merchant, who warned him at the last second and gives Arthur a thumbs up. And then with the same motion backhands a Zombie trying to sneak up on him. It falls over, crumbling.

Then a DRACOLICH fires that green <GOOSEHONK> at him! He rolls, taking a number out of the Rogue's guide to avoiding being food for dragons and standing up after the dive roll, he looks up, at the Dragon who thinks it can get away.

Angantyr coordinates with Avira, and he runs right towards the massive beetle, the mount moves it's head down to let Ang on, and in the same motion LAUNCHES the Dark Knight STRAIGHT UP, and right...

QUICK TIME EVENT!

Angantyr's player has to spend FIVE MINUTES getting the PS2 controler out and connects it to the Computer. He rapidly presses Triangle, aiming to land RIGHT on the Dracolich and then...

Aims the blade at one of the wings. "NOBODY...and I mean NOBODY...Dragon, flying freak, or UNDEAD ABOMINATION THROWS UP ON ME! EAT DIRT!"

Minerva has posed:
Minerva does not stop as she leaves many of them ash, as more come in to replace them. It's like an army forming ranks she can see she attempts to focus for a moment actively challenging chi to restore some of her wounds from the terrible chemical bombing earlier and well? She's marching once again into the enemy ranks, yet?

She finds more are coming for her. She's not sure how many they are and to be honest? Things are just not doing so well she's getting beat up even with how much she can endure she's going to hit her limit. SO if that's the case she's going to have to go all out against them.

Minerva slams her fist into the ground causing a rent to form in the earth as a shock wave is launched into the ranks of the undead. Her fists again are covered in holy flam and she aims to race through the enemy ranks with them brutally taking them down. Her armoured fist would attempt to go through whatever body part she would finds weakest she's not caring about how pretty this will be, or how she'll end up looking after this. They have to strike them down, before it is too late, they have little choice in the matter its find the source of this or join the ranks of the undead eventually..

Vespa has posed:
"Let go of me!", Vespa says kicking at the arms grabbing her trying to make them let go of her. She bring her axe back proably pulling up a zomibe with it, the swings it foward down toward the ground in front of her, trying to shake things up a bit, hopefully hitting and stunning some of the zomibes giving her and chance to regain her bearings.

Avira has posed:
It was actually a little strange to Avira-Angantyr was on the battlefield but she herself was back to back with 'Guy'. She didn't mind terribly much, knowing Angantyr was a force of nature unto himself, but it was nice having someone literally getting her back.

She hears the splash of water and feels a rush of relief, knowing that she was heard. Hopefully by saturating the ground with the blessed liquid, the undead would lose their ability to move around beneath it, preventing them from slipping into the camp directly.

She spies those two men with the barrel and gets an idea...BUT FIRST...

"HERBIE!" Avira shouts, "Toss Angantyr upwards!" And Herbie totally does, provided Angantyr passes his QUICK TIME EVENT.

Following that, Avira shouts over at the pair carrying the barrel-because seriously, they are zombie bait if that keeps up. "TOSS THAT OVER HERE!" she calls to them.

Assuming they do toss the barrel her way, she breaks it open in mid-air with a slash from the Spine, the effects that seem to extend well beyond the physical reach of the weapon.

The holy water inside is promptly hijacked by Avira. With a gesture of her free hand, the water stiffens into dozens of sharp shards-or ice arrows of holy water.

With a grim look upon her face, she directs the projectiles accross the mustering horde, locking eyes with the empty sockets of the undead dragon in the back.

Arthur Drover has posed:
The kick to the head sends the zombie's head flying into a nearby gopher hole for a perfect hole in one. The gopher is probably undead and glad of the company.

Tifa leaps down and kicks one undead into the others. They are surprisingly - mushy. Her leg almost goes through the one she strikes. Zombie one hits zombie two, which hits zombie three. They land in a mess of grey flesh.

There are six arms in there, and three heads, and six legs, some torsos.

Something stands up to confront her. It has three heads, six legs, six arms, and just the one really big torso. They appear to have auto-parried by getting big, merged, and veiny. And this beast lets out a groan as it tries to grab and squeeze the smaller woman. They groan in triplicate. Two men pass by with the barrel, and just behind them run two more, branching out to leave burning patches on the ground that clear away the purple corruption where it has formed. They look out of breath, but they also look like the devil is on their heels. Which, he apparently is, as a screeching imp runs by and ignores Tifa with her dance partner. It is after those four apprentices, appearing to skip but moving deceptively, horrifyingly fast. It had no eyes.

firion fares slightly better than Tifa and our poor water bearers - his blow incinerates the creature and this echoes out into further holy blasts. Some nearby wights, already as insubstantial as wind, disintegrate to nothing. There is a whispered "thank you" as he frees the spirit of something people had forgotten once lived until it forgot itself, but that is grateful for the sentiment. He is left standing in a clear spot amid an aching void of ash and bone. He has room enough to strategize - though he will still be buffeted about in the lee of the dead tide. The line between Firion and Angantyr is clear, so the undead killing expert would witness the keyblade wielder go to town.

The beetle shoots him upward in an arc best described as "It was <GOOSEHONK>ing majestic, man, like, you had to be there."

Now, follow me here. The dragon plugged its ps2 controller in BEFORE the battle.

CROSS COUNTER.

The dragon slowly opens its mouth and rises on its haunches. If it lined this up just right, Ang's jumping arc is now taking him into its open gaping maw and toward a glistening purple jewel made of pure /hurting/ that is the core of the beast. And then it begins to roar. Projectile vomiting.

Let me say it again, projectile, vomiting.

There's a button for that.

Minerva opens the earth, throwing the undead left and right so they land a good twenty metres afield! The rent she opens in the earth allows more of them to emerge than before, and faster. It made a dent and gave a reprieve, but not much of one. They are covered in the exact same green sludge that the dragon is majestically vomiting toward the incoming keyblade wielder. It's like that part is in slow motion. Slow, amazing motion.

Everyone can see it. Everyone.

Minerva is perhaps covered in the stuff, leaving her to wonder - as she would be burning - how they are also covered in it, and whether the same stuff is only oozing out of the dragon or indeed only out of its mouth.

Avira cuts the barrel in half, making the liquid fall over a crowd and clear the plaza before the front gate. But this leaves room for a pair of rushing wraiths to come OUT of the nearby stockade - they don't need to respect the battle lines- and try to give her the world's coldest hug. At about this point the smith re-emerges and gazes upon the vomitous dragon, his mouth open in awe.

And a hulking abomination waylays him and wrestles him to the ground. No more helpful things in his bag of tricks right now. He's taken out of it for the moment. How full of vomit is that thing...it's coating the /trees/. The river might never be the same.

Firion has posed:
The Undead Tide surges around him, but Firion is still warming up. The wheel his weapons made circle around him in a great flaming barrier, with himself now at the center of the wheel. A shield appears in his hand and...the surging throng just seems unable to gain any purchase, to advance at all. After all, it was causing a literal circle of flame, warding them off. So what to do?

Obviously to use some of this excess energy as a counter. Knowing that the Dragon is pretty genre savvy, he plugs in his controller into the second port. And then. QUICK TIME EVENT.

Triangle, X, Square, Triangle, Triangle... Somewhere in the distance he could swear he heard a Satyr telling him to climb onto the Hydra-Dragon whatever's back. But that'd just be silly.

KABOOM, Michael Bay type explosion as all the flames are discharged from Firion and his weapons at once.(Sadly Mister Bay is lost in the darkness.)

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart's eyes widen at the... zombie-totem that just rose up in front of her, after her attacks "... Ugh, when I thought it couldn't get any worse." Well one target is better than several, but when its this big and with that many limbs, its a bit worrying still. She takes a step back, just in time to see the bonestorm at the corner of her vision.

She has good peripheral vision, fortunatly for her, and her quick reflex has her duck for cover, hiding behind a large rock in the direction of the incoming attacks, shielding her entirely... and hopefully tearing to shreds the one she was facing... but no such luck huh, its like they are immune to each other.

But there's something they aren't immune at least, and that's BIG ROCKS! She rips the rock she was hiding behind, another show of power from the barmaid. What she lacks in magic and elemental she makes up with pure might. It can be scary sometimes, if you didn't know how gentle and kind she normally is at least. She lifts the rock overhead, and slams it down on top of the zombie Ashura, hoping to bury it, and into the holy water-filled soil >_< "Undead abobination, go back where you came from!"

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr and the dragon go down. The Maul comes to bite into him. The barfing overtakes him...

Armor melts away, and for a moment it looks like he will be overtaken by the storm of the undead.

And then a burst, darkness surging around him as he breaks out of the storm of flesh and bone, he swings the thing around in a mighty arch and growls. Darkness surges around as he grabs his arms...pumping it through himself as the heat haze of darkness surges...

But the Keyblade shines, opposing the darkness with light. He grabs the weapon...

He holds it up once... as a burst of light surrounds it, and him.

Darkness and light works in tangent as he starts to bring the weapon back..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OfN8n4lH6pY THEME CHANGE.

"Whatever master you own, let him know the power of the defenders that hold this land! Let him know the warrior that protects these people, and destroys the threat of death...the one that will cleanse your taint from this land..." he grunts.

And then he swings ONCE...

A massive surge of darkness rains out, aiming to swallow everything...

And then the blade swings again, a massive WAVE of light follows, aiming to strike at everything...

"TYRANT..." he starts, and thrusts the blade forward, as this time a mighty wind surges, followed by a massive wave of light..

"BREAKER!" and then light explodes in a massive cone infront of him.

Avira has posed:
It was a good thing that barrel was there, in retrospect. The frozen holy water rain worked out pretty well! Avira files away this note for any future battles against massive undead armies. Maybe the Horned King would make trouble again!

Given room, Avira starts to push forward, now dead set on dealing with that dragon before it gets any closer and vomits filth all over the defenders. As she approaches, she notices suddenly somebody engaging the dragon (or more accurately, being engaged by /it/). Upon closer inspection she spies Arthur there. "No!!!"

She charges, only to be waylaid by a pair of wraiths that nearly tear her to shreds, if not for some quick deterrent force applied from the Spine that sends both of them twisting and squirming away from the slightly silvery colored blade. "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" she roars suddenly with frustration. The ice is abandoned, replaced with what amounts to sheer willpower.

Avira has posed:
It was a good thing that barrel was there, in retrospect. The frozen holy water rain worked out pretty well! Avira files away this note for any future battles against massive undead armies. Maybe the Horned King would make trouble again!

Given room, Avira starts to push forward, now dead set on dealing with that dragon before it gets any closer and vomits filth all over the defenders. As she approaches, she notices suddenly somebody engaging the dragon (or more accurately, being engaged by /it/). Upon closer inspection she spies Arthur there. "No!!!"

She charges, only to be waylaid by a pair of wraiths that nearly tear her to shreds, if not for some quick deterrent force applied from the Spine that sends both of them twisting and squirming away from the slightly silvery colored blade. "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" she roars suddenly with frustration. The ice is abandoned, replaced with what amounts to sheer willpower.

Vespa has posed:
Vepsa is covered in undead slime gunk, and she smells terrible now too. She going to need a serious bath later. "You.. You runied my outfit! Oh <GOOSHONK> THIS! You all die here right now!", she pauses for a second. "Again!", she grips her axe with both hands bring it up as it the blade starts to glow with a black aura She bring it down cutting the very air with it and slams into the ground and a wave emantes from the blade cutting everything and anything in path a good 20 feet in front of her.

Minerva has posed:
Minerva is a lesser player on the world stage, she know sit. Still a Pawn is always dangerous and the unwary can be still taken down. Minerva is impressed by what Avira and Angantyr pulls off together. While she's closing once more but there's something else there there's something huge she's not sure what the hell these things are. She is caught full bore in it. She sees there are so many under the ground as they keep coming her attack had only expected them another way to make for the surface it seems. It means the source of the rot is down the green sludge catches Minerva she's screaming trying to get it off it's eating her, her gauntlets and greaves seem to be immune to it but she and her clothing it not. It's not an enjoyable thing she's still trying to fight her way through the pain a tit she sees Ang move in and she lets out a cry as she follows him up.

She's heading right for the undead dragon. She leaps at it intending to punch her way through it with a rising punch all the while her fists are covered in a holy fire that seems to be burning the sludge away from her even as she rises up.

Arthur Drover has posed:
Arthur crawls out of the pit, covered in gore, an arrow in his hand coated in unknowable juices, the right side of his torso badly bruised and in need of setting. And this is what he sees: Firion sends a wave at the creature. It stares back, and something violet in hue and ugly to behold rears out of it to stop the blast of energy flat. It is the magical equivalent of a parry- stopping his holocaust effort and turning it aside. A nearby silt-sand beach by the riverbed instantly turns to glass and becomes a local curiosity as the green adulterated glass beads, glittering ominously but harmlessly, are fashioned later into baubles and cheap statuary. Firion gets +3 economy points - and the Dragon's undivided attention.

Avira lashes off the wraiths, and then they explode. For no apparent reason they are /gone/ wisping into smoke. Well, not smoke, a puff of purple flame evaporates them.

On the other side of the battlefield, Tifa watches as the rock she shoves into the big creature is absorbed - it apparently is immune to big rocks. It becomes more bulbous and oozes something that looks uncannily like lava. What the hell is this thing.

But because it dissolves into purple fire, she never does find out. That might haunt her forever?

Angantyr scours the creature. Remember how Firion had its attention? Well Ang has its nose. And its chest. Its wings, pretty much all the parts. It was majestic, standing there, vomiting like the least tasteful fountain of the fallen world. It had wings, spread, magnificent for all they were tattered. Now it has no wings. It has stumps gushing ichor, it has half a face. It is scoured away on tides of darkness unknowable. To be replaced by fire in the shape of a dragon's skeleton - purple banefire singing a song of promised torment and unholy rage. And the gem at the heart of it is exposed by the blade. The blade has unlocked a gateway to victory, and someone else dashes through the door.

But first, the smith begins walking slowly toward the front gate. More hobbling. He has been useless all night. Avira reaches him, deflecting the dead just in time for it to fall back and not strike. But the creature then dissolves.

The reason for this is simple. Vespa and Minerva dash like things possessed, the two femme fatales becoming suddenly fatal. They double-kill the ancient beast, wakened by too much activity too close to a point of magical or natural convergence. Minerva manages to /knock it into the air/. A titanic feat in its own right. Vespa leapt at the same exact second and she cuts through it. But because Minerva has knocked it up, she doesn't cut from the top of the creature to the bottom, which might not have worked. Her cut starts halfway up, the purple gem at the center of the beast becoming fragments with an unpleasantly organic tinkling sound. It screams silently. This utter silence descends over the battlefield as arcs of purple fire dance to every beast who rose up. The release of that much dark energy has freed something ancient. It is going to the other side, and it is bringing friends.

She descends amid an arc of sterile, burning flesh which fades to ash on the wink, and the others would descend alongside her.

Something very pissed off just landed in hell.

Arthur looks sheepishly at Avira. Then turns toward the chasm that has opened up near the river mouth. "Well I can be a bit useful, but now it seems... all over but the mopping up."

The cheer goes out quietly at first, then louder, at the same time "Soup's on!" comes from angel-in-only-light-disguise Mr. Farnsworth.

Arthur holds up his battered silver flute and prepares to play one blast, even as the shards of purple gem sit on the ground near Vespa, Minerva, and Ang, ominously. He pauses, and, holding his fingers across three holes, offers the mouthpiece to Avira.

"Do the honors, my dear?" He says through bleary, half-terrified eyes even as people converge on the front gates to count their limbs and their blessings.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
Angantyr swings the blade once, shaking off of the undead parts and looking back towards Avira and Arthur.

"...The <GOOSEHONK>?" he asks, looking at the two, "What is that thing, and why..." He pauses. Oh hey a quest drop. Angantyr bends down to examine the shards of the purple Gem, and checks to see if he can see anything dark about it. If not, he'll pick them up gingerly to see what he can examine about them. Perhaps they were loot.

"Hmm.."

Firion has posed:
Capitalism, HO!

The cross-counter between him and the Dragon give the sand the capability of being made into a huge number of tourist trinkets.

As one, all of his weapons drop back into their scabbards and sheathes. While he looks tired from the effort, he seems no less cheerful as he rises from his knees, back to his feet, even if his words were a little self-depreciating.

"Apparently I need some more training. That was a pretty sorry effort on my part. Good job, all of you." His gaze swept across all whom were present.

But hey, while there were quest drops abound, he's not all that worried about them. Instead, he's going back to the camp because Firion was not one to ever refuse a free meal. Time to see if Mister Farnsworth was as good as his reputation.

Vespa has posed:
"ugh I need a bath.. I'm glad I bought a spare set of clothing..",vespa says trying her best to wipes the bits of gunk off of her.. She looks to Firion. "Thanks."", she blinks wondering about the purple gems but for now she just wants to change..

Avira has posed:
"Come on, quick!" Avira holds out an arm for Arthur to hold onto as she all but drags him back to the camp. Sure, the undead are evaporating /now/ but she knows that these guys can come back any moment now. This had been the heaviest assault the camp had seen since they'd set up, which actually makes Avira worry quite a bit.

"You'll have to tell us all about what you found...over soup of course." Avira grins.

As she walks back, Avira finds Arthur offering the silver flute. She actually pauses, looking surprised "Me? Well...of course." She returns the Spine to its sheath and takes the instrument with her now-free hand. Putting her fingers down over the same three holes, Avira sucks in her breath and blows out a single clarion note that rings loud over the camp.

Once done, she passes the flute back to Arthur. "Good job yourself, Guy. I'm glad we had you here to help."

Arthur Drover has posed:
You can make a dwarven smelting catalyst go up with the right pitch and tune - and a little magic bound into the metal of your instrument. The note was no mere signal. Some nearby wire, buried when he buried the canisters, detonates. The ravine - some distance from all humans but close to the line of undead approach - explodes, sending rocks down the chasm and stopping a few straggling undead, as well as creating a choke point. Arthur bellows, the last bellow left in him for the moment: "ADVANCE THE LINES, I want archer's butts out to that range, anyone who wasn't on the walls, I want practicing. Good work." Then he coughs, spittle hacking onto the ground, and puts the flute away.

"I found almost nothing. We'll have to make a proper search of it, good job, miss."

The glowing shards contain nothing Ang can sense - whatever virtue (well, vice) was in them is now departed and they appear safe to handle. This beast's death just stopped the local onslaught. A few (two or three) distant zombies begin to approach, but it is slower and less determined. They are picked off by practicing archers.

Minerva has posed:
Minerva is going to be lucky if he's still standing when this is all over. So she launches herself into the undead horror as she goes right into the beat knocking it up. Still as Vespa strikes the beast? She's getting covered in some terrible gore.

She really is a mess at this point and then comes a massive release of energy. She's channelling the darkness away from herself making use of her abilities to control it. It's far lesser than say Ang? Still its enough to save the Monk as she comes crashing to the earth in a heap.

She's burned, beaten, somewhat melted, oh yes her clothing is hanging barely together rather raggedly thanks to Disney magic at this point as she looks about to see the undead horde has stopped and fallen over from the looks of it. She was aware but the sight just confirmed her other senses. She remains keeling as she calls out.

"If it is not too much trouble my dear friends...I need...something to persevere my modesty I fear what may happen if I try to move in such a state."

She meanwhile focus on trying to heal herself, someone's going to help her right? She'll just wait it out either way as that was quite the brutal battle, with all things said and done.

"I should watch what I wish for."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:
"No go ahead and move." Angantyr says, "I won't look." He totally will look.

Angantyr pockets the gems for later. He'll have someone look at them that is skilled.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart frowns as her BIG ROCK attack is simply shrugged out... but as Arthur said it... cleaning up time as the holy water seems to burn the rest of it. Even if the rock didn't do anything, it seems that it still died at least. She sighs, sliding a hand through her hair as she looks around, picking out the healing potions from her pockets to distribute the like she did with water bottles earlier "Good work everyone." Although she's nto too proud of her standing against zombies. But then again, undeads don't seem to feel pain either... Maybe its not her fault there.

She removes her leather top as she walks to minerva, keeping her white tanktop underneath as she hands it to the other monk, and then she moves to unclip the tabard part of her shorts for her "Here, use those for now... best I can do."

Avira has posed:
"I motion for some soup before practice." Avira contests in a good-natured fashion. "I am happy for your smiths and apprentices. They held up quite nicely."

Minerva asks for clothing...and Avira smirks. "Maybe if you ask Vespa nicely, she will let you have her spare maid outfit."

Arthur Drover has posed:
"Fine, fine, motion carries." He perks up at the mention of a maid outfit - but not too much. He's a married man and one of the lads or lasses from his forge might report in.

Minerva has posed:
Minerva thankfully accept the leather top and will just put it on over the remains of her existing clothing. IT should fit well enough given her body type is close enough to Tifa's. She now has some mobility options at this. It's not long term but it should be enough for the moment and the tabard finishes it up. She can move now to get somewhere else. Still she looks a bit on the silly side as she rises.

"I may very well do so, I can not keep Tifa's things forever and I doubt these may work in such an arrangement if we must fight again."

She's going to get somewhere to clean up.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart nods to MInerva "Emergency really... its not meant to be worn like that, but better than nude at least."