Alucroas

A Bubbling Brew To Bash Boredom's Brains In

The constant pinballing was beginning to agitate the Ravager, animal rage fueling an instinctive, survival driven sense of focus as its muscles tensed in preparation for a violently clever move. Thrusting its clawed hands forward, it violently pushed and tugged on the grip of Aracite, throwing the two into a violent spin, momentum allowing Barrusom it to loosen the grip of its middle limbs and commit to a spin motion. The next shockwave would not hit Barrusom, but was instead shredded and torn apart, ripping the continuum to ruins, and leaving the pair of warring beast's to plunge cataclysmically through the newly formed rift, producing a monstrous tidal splash.

Consequently, Exeter's attack failed a second time, as Barrusom “escaped” into the acid ocean of the Outerverse. Few things could survive its corrosive body, least of all, matter forms that had not achieved a logos upgrade, among other non-native entities of the strange universe. In other words, sending the blade into that red and white abyss would yield disastrous effects on her barely existing weapon.

In the midst of the tidal wave, several nearly inexplicable events transpired, namely, the rumbling vibrations riding the subcurrents of space as the monsters wailed on each other underwater. Randomly, they would appear, swiping, and slashing, and puncturing, piercing, and bludgeoning each other's flesh upon the islands of materialized memories scattered across the arena, only to instantly disappear and reappear on another. Sometimes they would collide with the masses, shattering them, and producing enormous debris fields. It was all too unpredictable.

Then, suddenly, space bulged directly beneath Exeter and the facsimile's feet, followed immediately by an explosive burst of acid the size of a planet, Aracite and Barrusom, thrashing and mauling each other relentlessly amidst the eruption.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

A tall, well-built man with a black duffle bag over his shoulder stood stock-still inside an ornate elevator, his light-blue polo shirt presenting a gentle contrast to the elegant grimness of the lift's glass walls. While his stoic demeanor didn't show it, behind his cobalt aviator lens, beneath the shadow of his short, jutting black bangs he was quietly observing a sequence of scenes carved into the glass, each depicting a gambler and their winnings. The first one began at the ceiling, showing a man pulling a slot machine lever, activating a massive spout of coins to come spraying out of it in a glorious arc, followed by another of the man raising his hands to excitedly catch as many coins as he could, only to be buried up to his neck, and crushed to death beneath the weight of his greed, blood pooling out over the newly formed depression in the floor. A second scene depicted a horned swine with batlike ears sitting on a wobbly stool at a rickety table, the ceiling above him bulging and drooping with cracks running all throughout it, tiny streams of crimson liquid filling his rusty bowl. Another work of art displayed a losing poker player slashing the throat of his opponent, only for a pressurized jet of liquid gold to shoot out of his victim's gash, and pierce a hole through his own, bronze and silver gushing from his wound.

At his feet, a different piece of art caught his attention, striking him as unsettlingly specific, but still in fitting with the agendas of the demons who ran the place he was descending into. The image was that of a golden eagle skewered by its own dismembered wings, eyes gouged out with its own viciously bent talons, and severed beak shoved violently through its chest. It was enough to make the man step back, the cuffs of his charcoal slacks briefly lifting and revealing the metal buckles of his fine leather shoes clacking against the floor. Raising his left hand to push his sunglasses up, the cold sensation of his silver rolex shifting its weight on his wrist produced a momentary discomfort, accompanied by a subtle, nagging urge to adjust some inconsequential aspect of his clothes. Before he could complete a single motion–

DING

Scoffing softy, the man stepped halfway out of the elevator, only for the shaft to jerk forwards, forcing him into a tight roll upon a dirt path that was flanked by knee-high grass. As he came upright, he turned on his knuckles, spinning himself to stare at the motionless lift, its bottom nestled firmly against the ground. At the far wall of the compartment, he could see a new piece of art forming: embers sparked from unseen claws dragged across the glass, carving out the crude shape of a rat sniffing around as a lion, leopard, and a black wolf lunged at it with crazed, foam drooling grins. Sparing not a second of contemplation for its dumped passenger, the elevator doors closed, and immediately began a rapidly accelerating ascent back into the dark clouds above, lightning crackling as it passed through the dimensional barrier on its way to another guest.

Standing up and dusting himself off, he finally had a moment to process something other than vague threats, namely the light illuminating the woods. The source of the dim luminance keeping this forest lit was coming from several firefly lamps dangling from the balconies of elvish cabins built on what appeared to be a hybrid of high top and sugar pines. Through the insect-glass windows he could see many fragmented figures, some bright and cheery, others a melancholic mix of lustful nervousness. He could hear loud moans of pleasure, followed by abhorrent screeching, the twitching of antennae, and beating of wings, and stripping of flesh, and crunching of bone amidst wails of agony, all coming from inside the mystic brothel houses. Minutes later, the grass started rustling all around him, and a swarm of brownies carrying cleaning tools rushed up the wooden ladders, followed by goblins with large sacks.

Surmising that not all demonic transactions were based on long-term deals, the man in the blue polo opted to ready himself for any future variables. Distancing himself from the clean-up crew by moving a few feet into the grass, the man threw off his duffle bag, unzipped it, and began to procure several items. A silver handgun modeled after a deagle went onto his right hip, a short, sawed off double barrel shotgun featuring a wooden grip, sliding it into a holster on his left outer thigh. Rubbing his chin between his thumb and index for a moment, he grabbed four of the shotgun shells, along with a same number of metal egg containers, and opened them up like Easter trinkets. After that he sliced open the shells, deposited the gunpowder along with the pellets into the eggs, closed them up and carved a very small fire kanji into their surfaces. Grabbing a multi pocketed velcro sash, he deposited all four eggs into the pressure sealed spaces, and wrapped from left shoulder to right pelvis, clipping it together.

Next, he grabbed a punch knife, strapping it horizontally onto his left forearm with the handle facing his torso, and likewise for the opposite. Twin knuckle-handled karambits at the waist, and an unusually large pole staff possessing an uncanny level of elasticity as it autonomously stretched and flattened itself around the man's waist, pressing against his belt as an armored layer. Thinking this was enough for now, he zipped up the bag, separated the straps and compressed the insides as best he could. Gaining a satisfying amount of shrinkage, he strapped the bag against his back in an x formation, making sure that they did not overlap the egg pouches, and pulled it tight to ensure it conformed properly around his body.

Scanning his surroundings, he noticed several brownies staring at him warily, before immediately running back inside the cabins. Several screeches, gaelic curses, and thrashing of furniture was heard by the rising, armed man, who dismissed their panic insofar as it concerned his safety, and saw several fairies go shooting out of the cabin, soaring through the city on red alert. Now he had to be concerned, and with lightning speed, he grabbed hia watch between thumb and index finger, pressed two buttons and fired a thin red laser, dashing and adjusting his aim with a speed that was disturbingly inhuman.

Tiny smoke plumes drifted upwards as wings were severed, heads decapitated, and torsos bisected in a shower of not just stomach acid, but the partially digested remains of their consumed victims. Unfortunately, and to the man's jaw-clenched annoyance, one got away with a full belly, and was likely on its way to inform its master.

Deactivating the laser and pressing his index and middle finger to his temple, the man finally spoke in a deep, velvety voice that always seemed to bear a slightly dry growl.

“Rough entry.” Scott said in as neutral a manner as he could.

“Rougha than normal?” The voice asked curiously, his calm tone belying his seriousness.

“They knew I was coming.” He stated flatly. “No one but you knows about my true nature.”

“So what’cha gonna do?”

“Keep exploring. Find out how tight a hold this place has on Earth, and make sure they don't mess with our business.”

Sighing, Scott continued. “The elevator tried to taunt me. Really knew how to put the fart in artsy artsy turd paintings.”

“Ohoh boah…” Ron laughed amusedly. “Don't let em get’cha goin’. ‘Sides, I heard from one’a them Goldman boahs that one of Hell’s hungriest piggies escaped the Allure mess, and before that, he escaped Hell no problem. Ontop’a that, he ain't been seen nowhere here on Earth.”

“You think he’s here?”

“Probably.”

“And… you want me to recruit him?”

“All the other demons workin’ for us had to be summoned. If this one was able to escape the Lake Of Fire on its own, it oughta be stronger than the others.”

A deep breath was taken on the other side. “Things are changing up there in the stars again. Nightmare asteroids crashing into Argentina, alien cities droppin’ on our foreheads, big ass Jellyfish appearin’ in the sky. We need to fortify ourselves, and for that we need stronger muscle.”

“Hmm…”

“Little by little we'll build it up. If the other Syndicates are smart, they'll do the same.”

“Okay.” Scott nodded, having just found the exit to the forest. “I'll find him. I'll locate Arthur Steinbrook, and if those rats try comin’ for us, we'll have the Cannibal Connoisseur cut and chew a path out of this place.

Hanging up the blood call, Scott proceeded down a steep stairwell leading to the city, smoke and fire on the rise as a–

–

–beam of elemental lightning souls burned the pagoda's structure, slicing through support beams with its devastating heat. Seconds later, the different stories of the building fell straight down, each floor crashing down on top of the one beneath it, dust and detritus rushing out as the building collapsed all the way to street level. Unflinching at the debris plume, the white dragon stood with arms outstretched, claws at the ready, eagerly awaiting the next demon that was bold enough to attack him. As he was enveloped, his eyelids closed, letting his ears takeover the task of detecting assailants.

Thirty more seconds passed and nothing showed up.

A minute.

Two minutes.

Five.

Still nothing.

Atop his smokestack perch, Tage silently monitored the city, taking notice through his ley-lines of someone else noticing him through supernatural means. His cybernetic stoicness enforced his statuesque lack of response, watching her for as long as she deemed fit to observe him. Then, in mere moments, she was paying attention to something else, and the cyborg resumed his sentinel surveillance.

After another five minutes of waiting on a threat that never arrived, Tage determined that it was time to take a different approach to their mission.

A vast network of anomalies manifested as thin strands of maroon light cutting the skein of space like a knife through plastic in random spots throughout Aeternus. Many were directly inside the hotel, widening into seams, cracks, and fractal spirals, each piece its own portal to some far away world. The existential ley-lines had been thoroughly connected to this realm, entering and interweaving themselves with Aeternus’ spatial fabric via a plume of nanoscopic dracomachines that allowed themselves to be sucked into the vortex that was Taluge’s perception of the realm from astral space. Now, as a divided entity, Tage used the ley-lines to spy, to procure information, and even ask questions.

Unlike My White Brother, I Come In Peace

The cyborg's voice reverberated through lobbies, spas, pools, flickered on televisions, and shined off the surfaces of coins, roulette, spotlights beaming off the dots of dice. It had the voice of a beast, the coldness of steel, and the depth of a lion, despite its draconic origin. Most importantly, its tone carried pacifism, such that even the most suspicious demon would find it enticing bait. Often, it was those of the more noble philosophical disposition that made for the tastiest prey.

Love was far more delectable than war. Order easier to manage than chaos. The Casino Demons and their heavily systematized economy of souls was proof of this. If it wasn't for their tendency to brazenly break their own rules, and launch the bent and warped chunks of their agreements at one another like cannonballs, then perhaps the Arcane Project’s offspring would have chosen a less intimate means of announcing his presence. He trusted them just as much as they trusted him, which was to say not at all, but he would still give himself and them the benefit of discussion by embodying the ways of Gennosuke. If peace was not an option, then the Aeternus would learn of Tage’s demonic origins the hard way.

Has This Being Been Seen Traversing Your Realm?

A simple hologram of a colossal bipedal drake of enormous black scales, tendrils the size of street poles woven between their mass and ending in hypodermic bones. His chest bulged outward like a trapezoid, his spiny tail long enough to wrap around a skyscraper, and v-shaped horns long enough to part the sea and split clouds. He had a long, rigid snout, a crimson left, and sapphire right eye resembling inlaid gemstones, their outlines accentuating an appearance of being bloodshot.

As he awaited his answer, Tage decided to check on the least dangerous, but ironically most danger prone member of the bestial trio.

Aludon stood still, stupid, not even attempting to study the surge of aggressively sturdy unlife, itself a quasi-contradiction. Life could not be death, and death could not be life, but with gloom, doom, and strife driving the corpse woman, and creature as blind to threats as this Aptosite, concerning to the notion that both were rife with insanity seemed the only answer that was right.

The Scars Of The Dead

Jagged, dark-green scars lit up along Aludon’s arms, from triceps to interior forearms, portals to the astral plane, gateways to chaos opened wide. A gush of gelatinous protoplasm flooded from the rifts, gluttonously consuming not the roots, fingers, and veins, but the aura of decay the material brought with it. If this were any other creature, if he were smart, the imbecilic monster would have left well enough alone, and let the gel dissolve the deathly energy and expel it back down the drain, but Aludon was a moron. His intelligence was animalistic, subhuman, and because he didn't feel pain quite the same as others due to his body being intentionally designed to rip itself apart, and merge with other body's, this meant that instead of standing there and remaining safe like a good dog, Aludon decided to sniff the turdly energy, and try to take a bite out of it.

Truly, he was not one of the cats roaming around Aeternus. Aludon was an Aludog.

His black flesh crumpled, crumbled, and reformed, muscles of protein took on a bizarre chloroplastic pine needle color. Roots sprouted in the place of claws, the brainlet beast violently ripping them out of the ground and flinging his acidic blood absolutely everywhere, shrieking not from pain, but from the shock of his claws coming off. In a matter of seconds, he could see the wood and carpet fall apart, walls start to tumble down, and even some support beams growing in increasingly unstable as mushroom fiber took over his chest, his red eyes liquefied and solidified back into black-dotted red berries, and his tail turned into a long segment of white death blossoms, ending in a sharply curved mix of bone and thorns.

Falling through the floor, and crashing through several glass containers, spilling wine, beer, and liquor everywhere, Aludon started screeching in confusion as he began to drown in booze. Spinning around madly to gain his bearings, he flung more acid from his fingers, corroding a powerbox, and sending sparks flying everywhere. Ignition occurred instantly, a fiery explosion blossoming straight up and spreading back through the bar, the shockwave hurling the Aptosite through several more cupboards. Panicking at the overstimulation, flesh regenerating all throughout, he coiled his legs, and launched himself up through into a gambling room adjacent to the bar, smashing through a poker table, and spreading his new plant-plant aura to every part of the room, every human gambler, and horned, tentacled, hooved demon dealer he frantically bolted across. Soon, this part of the hotel would become a botanical hellscape of rotting decadence, and Zucroas could only trudge annoyedly toward the commotion his brother was making, whereas Tage remained perched, keeping his weapons on standby mode for the inevitable backlash their jackass of a baby sibling wrought.

–

Eye of lamb dipped in boiling wolf’s blood, thickened by flesh of sloth, and caked in ground fraud liver. An innocent deceived, a predator conceived a plot to compensate for their own laziness, yet packed ever so densely with the spoils of that which he managed to siphon from all those innocent buyers. Hearty, but decadent. Not nearly enough to enrich his taste buds, for how could the nourishing minerals of one so easily fooled have lived a life of health, of worth, of substance.

“Schwache Männer und noch schwächere Opfer!” Arthur shouted, quite displeased.

The German, the Cannibal Connoisseur, Swine Of Gluttony, and Knight Of The Kitchen sat, clothed in white, silver-eyed wolf's fur, fork and knife grasped between lean, muscular fingers, palms fastened to claws via leather straps. His hairy blonde chest was exposed, icy blue eyes sharp like a canine’s and nowhere near as deceitful as the chefs who thought they could shovel this crap down his throat. He had learned already in Hell, that feeding on your fellow damned was akin to eating the contents of one’s colon, and that was Hell enough for him.

He did not come to this hole in existence to be fed even lower quality trash.

The follow up meal was equally atrocious. Shish kabob, brain of tortured immigrant, heart of smuggler, marinated in reproductive juices of sex trafficked wives and daughters. Juicy, wet, spongy, a bit salty, but lacking the texture of anything beyond rubbery and nauseating. Fools without merit, no elders to inherit the wealth of; desperate to flee, woe is thee, and taken advantage of by a slang speaking leech.

Grunting with irritation, Arthur vexed. “Alles, was du mir fütterst, sind die Leichen wertloser Narren!”

Rubbing his temples, Arthur lifted his eyes, spotting a fat tycoon, clearly down on his luck, but with a wife that was brown, bodacious, and several different kinds of beauty packed into one busty package. Miraculously, she appeared all natural, and was genuinely concerned for what her husband was about to do to save his failing business. She cared about him. He could smell it. She would be there to back him up no matter how foolishness his decisions were. He could taste her devotion, hear her heart beat nervously, selflessly.

“AUS DEM WEG!” Arthur roared, his brutish masculine form grabbing the woman's attention in a shocked blush, only for her to scream in horror as he threw the half eaten shish kabob needle like a spear, straight through her husband's idiot skull. The skewer went through his eye, broke through his lobe, and sent bone fragments scattering everywhere.

“Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe, Blumen wie du sind einfach zu schwer zu bekommen.” The German stated matter of fact lying, pressing hands on her trembling shoulders, tongue dragging across her ample, helpless cleavage, sharp arousal surging through her as he yanked her in closer. He wouldn't allow someone so precious to move, to get away, and the other residents and chefs seemed to know intuitively that letting the Cannibal have his way was the best path to avoiding a meat cleaver in their skull.

“Jetzt werde ich dein Herz öffnen, deinen Nektar trinken und mich wieder lebendig fühlen!” He shouted ecstatically, jaw stretching to monstrous proportions, and not giving the woman even a moment to process or register the disturbed feeling of lust that was half a second of way from turning to full-blown terror before driving his teeth straight through her breast. Moments later, he was crunching through her rib cage, then her heart, eyes watering with delight as he crushed and swallowed the whole thing with one bite.

“Warum müssen Frauen wie du für diese Welt so klein sein!?” He lamented, blood dripping from his mouth, fingers rubbing his eyes as he let out a sigh.

“They don't have to be.” A man with a duffle bag said, standing in the doorway. Immediately reaching into one of his velcro pouches and chucking the gunpowder filled egg at the dead man, and his wife. The powder belonged to the shell casings of Cash The Dead Rebel, a double-barreled sawed off shotgun, enchanted with an inversion spell. As the kanji activated, and gunpowder ignited across the couple's flesh, muscle knitted back together, bones mended, and in a manner of seconds the two were back on their feet.

“Who are you?” Arthur asked astonishedly, shocking everyone in the bar at the fact that he could speak English.

“A member of a powerful Syndicate of Earth, and unlike this hellhole, in my organization, quality food... HIGH quality food is always available.

Removing his sunglasses, and revealing almond black eyes, Scott looked at Arthur with deadly seriousness. “My type isn't welcome here. I suspect they'll be coming for me any minute now, as I already took out a few of their own.

“Now are you in, or are you out?”

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

<Snipped quote by Alucroas>

She does not trust her senses and assumes your cat like the imp are mere hallucinations. She is compelled to observe her cycle of torment. Epileptic seizures were thought to be interactions with divine or infernal forces and her body is used to recite foul scripture. She begins dreaming. Her body is still in a lounge on top of a rug near a broken window and fireplace.

@Despereaux

Is the rotspread/tree of unlife part of that hallucination or is it real? I assumed it was real because of the imp fleeing to get away from it.

The Family Biz [Open To Apply]

Given pace and length it might be time for a summary. 0th post on the OOC?

@Despereaux

I could also do with a layman's summary of what your character did, please.

EDIT: For further clarity I'm trying to gain a sense of positioning. I thought I saw something about your character walking into the pines, but wasn't sure if it was something going on in her head, or literal.

Battle Toyale — Christmas Rumble!

He was soaring, riding upon the wind with dark wings spread wide over the rise of a warm up draft lifting him higher and higher until, at last, he felt safely removed from the world down below. The feeling of separation, of being alone with only his animal instincts to guide him had a distinct calming effect on his psyche, like a feline wandering the woods by itself, or an eagle surveying the lakes and fields in search of prey. It was a peace that was prevalent throughout nature, persistent across time, and thrived in the blood and bones of all beasts, whose primitive minds endowed their bodies with the strength and resolve necessary for surviving in the world.

Neither man nor deity could ever hope to emulate this pure state of life, not without sacrificing something in the process.

In the midst of his tranquil flight, he could see the clouds starting to dim, their fluffy whiteness shifting toward off-gray, to full-gray, to pitch-blackness, their vaporous forms stretching away from him as they were sucked into a rapidly opening hole in the sky. The anomaly offered no light for him to see what lurked inside, but it did cast rays of darkness which beckoned all living things to enter its depths, luring them to a place that did naught but provoke primal fear, and a deep hostility that caused the jagged, dark-green scars on his arms to glow in preparation for what was to come. Roaring into the abyss, the he found himself falling victim to the machinations of the entity, swallowed whole as he felt the composition of his insides transmute into a different substance.

Metal replaced bone, battery acid replaced blood, strangely woven fibers took the place of muscle, and though his senses told him he still had organs, they remained only quasi-functional; present and performing their vital functions, yet somehow he knew their destruction would not hinder his capacity to move. All of this he could feel as plastic restraints tied him to the inside of a cardboard container, neck, limbs, and tail pinned with twin apertures for his horns to slide neatly into. The packaging he was contained in was considerably larger than the others, more fit for a small cat than for the plaything he was turned into, his form stripped of the beauty nature had blessed him with, and replaced with parts artificial, able to smell all the foul chemicals used in constructing his monstrous form.

Thoroughly enraged at what had been done to him, at where he was taken from, his body sparked with industrial grade lightning, melting his plastic bonds, jaw opening wide to unleash a second pair that was part of a miniaturized drake skull, punching a hole through his transparent sealing. Evidently, this was not enough to fully free him, for after ripping his way out of one cell, he found himself skull bashing the glass of a sliding cupboard, not knowing he was set up to be featured in the more expensive electronics section. Spotting the lock, the dragon reared back its tail, thrusting the sharply curved, four inch bone between the mechanism keeping him inside, yanking and screeching furiously, claws digging into holes in the shelf grate to give himself better leverage. Finally, the glass began to flex, cracks forming as his anger let him rip the lock free, followed by him flinging it off his tail hard enough to break parts where the panels overlapped, weakening the structure for one last violent charge, ramming his way through the barrier and spraying shards all over the white tiled floor.

The moment he landed outside his prison, the whole electronics section started blaring, bathing the department in a red alarm glow. Although the creature preferred the wild, he had fought in enough civilized environments, places run by man, and alien alike to recognize the sound of impending danger, promptly leaping onto the side of a sales counter, and quickly scaling it to gain a higher vantage point with which to spot any incoming threats. Sprinting across the surface, and knocking over several flyers, and mini-stands for prepaid membership cards, a sudden, loud, penetrating beep startled his ears, setting his armored scales abuzz with blue, crackling bolts.

A semi-large monitor with a smaller, black screen on top lit up in front of him, displaying an electronic poster image of his whole body on a brown background, emitting lightning as he fought what looked to be a combination of decked out super soldiers with high-tech weaponry, and hovering drones showering his body in a hailstorm of bullets that appeared to be curving around the contours of a very powerful electromagnetic shield. Snarling at the image, and the outrageous price of $229.99+tax, he let his jaws part and fired a beam of condensed electricity, pumping the circuits full of energy until the whole thing exploded, screeching and roaring as the electricity drained out of the dying monitor, which displayed the monster’s name.

The Abominable Alucroas!

Battle Toyale — Christmas Rumble!

I suspect I'll have to modify this profile, but I did try to be as detailed possible as per the rules.

The Abomimable Alucroas

A 16 inch, quadrupedal black dragon made almost entirely of metal, featuring very large scales painted with a mixture of charcoal and ink. Alucroas’ eyes are counter-colored, consisting of a sapphire right and crimson left, both of which are capable of detecting thermal, as well as electrical energy, appearing as a strange blend of red and blue for objects such as lights, television, game consoles, and purple for living toys, though this only applies to ones containing electrical components. This uncanny sight appears to serve a mostly predatory function, and is indicative of Alucroas’ newly preferred diet of wires over flesh, and metal over bone. To this end, he has a modified mouth appendage that starts as a skull, complete with horns and jaws, and is attached to a 6.5inch cord of hyper-jointed metal, granting it adequate mobility.

His head also features 4inch horns, and his tail is 16 inches, ending in a 4 inch, slightly curved bone with a semi-blunt tip. While the topside of the tail is fully armored, the underside has exposed vertebrates. The scales function as a highly durable armor, and can open up slightly to secrete a thick, transparent slime, that in all likelihood is a form of glue that has mostly, but not entirely lost its adhesive properties.

The dragon’s wings are hidden in two slots on his back, and when unsheathed, fling a highly corrosive battery acid. Alucroas’ wingspan is roughly 2ft across, and due to his mostly metallic composition, is only capable of gliding a short distance, though he has a rather uncannily destructive habit of being able to violently yank himself against anything made of metal. This is because Alucroas is a lightning dragon, and his electromagnetic powers, though greatly reduced, have retained enough of their fundamental attributes that he is able to perform at minimum the more basic feats.

Consequently, and because the beast's “batteries” are globally spread throughout his body in the form of corrosive battery acid, the abomination is able to emit static electricity off any part of its body, and fire out a beam up to a maximum distance of five feet. Suffice to say, keeping this monster at a distance is critical to one's long term survival.

Aside from being about as visibly strong as one would expect from a cat-sized toy, Alucroas’ forelimbs possess two dark-green scars running from his triceps to the middle of his forearms underside. The scars can secrete a shimmering compound that is thick like gel, and sticky like glue. Inhaling the fumes of this weird substance has a disorienting, discombobulating effect on the senses of other toys, and fortunately only lasts for a few seconds, or for as long as physical contact is maintained, its presence within the body easily sneezed away like cardboard dust.

Battle Toyale — Christmas Rumble!

I think it's meant to be whatever a toy can reasonably hold. also do you know how toy lazers work? they're legit just light. i'm a science interest, so...

Then again i ain't the gm, so take what i say with a grain of salt.

@Sky Blue

I was always operating on the silent assumption that we are to play actual toys, but it always helps me personally to ask for the sake of having something to weigh my own interest against.

Battle Toyale — Christmas Rumble!

Are we allowed to bring characters who have destructive powers scaled down to toyverse size effects? Foe example: a missile fires from a toy hits a shelf, but the explosion is no larger than a firecracker, or a laser beam that is only strong enough to cut through paper, and leave a mild scorch mark on a steel shelf, but with prolonged application would be able to cut through the beam.

Basically, my brain is operating on less of a literal toy fight, but something with toysized effects, but if everyone is truly launching fake missiles, aka, plastic rods with nothing more than kinetic force behind them, then it would obviously be unfair if I brought the former into the fight.

A Bubbling Brew To Bash Boredom's Brains In

The longer the Executioner observed the transpiring chaos, the more the holographic image of its crimson eye and tentacles appeared to increase in size, its black slit oscillating first in the direction of the rampaging Ravager, then to the Lumanaru. It repeated this action only once, followed by a cycling of different ocular colors in the form of purple, green, and gray, culminating in the creation of two facsimiles sliding off the original body like neatly conformed sheets of paper.

Unlike Barrusom, who slashed open a rift in the continuum, the Amalgam that entered through it, and the flood of cosmic acid which corroded it away, the facsimiles employed a far less destructive, albeit nonetheless unsettling means of inserting themselves into the universe. They simply phased through it, producing only the faintest of ripples as their passage occurred in a manner that was similar to osmosis. Floating as gelatinous, eight-limbed blobs in the vacuum, the green and purple-eyed pair rapidly collapsed their forms inwards, dimensional folding condensing and compressing their unknowable flesh. As the pair shrunk, their limbs formed sharply jointed bends, the ends pulled and stretched back until only a sharp, piercing tip remained, enabling them to skitter and run across the continuum.

The green eyed creature ceased its size reduction at almost 1.5x the ursim’s own, and immediately began to chase after the beast in a manner that was blatantly hostile. For every apergetic explosion that was about to ripple and stir the fabric of space-time with its disruptive shockwaves - Aracite the Executioner Of Cosms, was there to plug up the eruption, absorbing the burst into its own freshly hardened skin, its cells drinking in the cosmo-seismic energy. Repeatedly, it did this, albeit with an oddly reduced effectiveness the closer it got to Barrusom, that was still enough to put the eruptions on a precisely timed delay.

As Aracite came within striking range of its nemesis, it saw Barrusom, visibly aware of the uts presence by its raised fur and slowly crescendoing growl. The bear spun around, dragging its claws across the continuum to bring itself to a destructive, space-slashing stop, aiming for an overhead swipe with its mid-limbs, only for the cephalopod to suddenly expel the absorbed energy, and go arching overhead, straight for the very planet Barrusom sought to feed on. Determinedly, the beast drove its tongue into the gash it just made, and sucked up as much of the acidic blood milk sitting inside the Outerverse as it could, shrinking its size in the process, then yanked the siphon appendage free in a fashion that was just as viscerally repulsive.

Roaring with fury, Barrusom charged after Aracite, extending its tongue under its neck, passed its belly, and even beyond the length of its rising tail. In an act of seemingly counter-intuitive insanity, the ursim took its mid-paws and smacked its own stomach as hard as it could, almost mocking the Executioner’s own actions, until the intent behind the masochistic belly beating became abundantly and disgustingly clear:

It made itself throw up.

On purpose.

A jet of red and white vomit streamed from the siphon tube that was Barrusom’s tongue, its explosive force greatly exceeding what it had released earlier, a clear indication of how much the ravenous Ravager Of Cosms had managed to gulp down in one mad guzzle. The sheer force of its puke ray, whose direction was set to dissolve and tear open another rift to the Outerverse, from which more Amalgam roots would breach, and even more Corpas to ride its emergence, was ultimately set to strike at Exeter and as well as Aracite's other copy, sent Barrusom blasting across the void with its vomit-rocket force.

Long before the beam could reach its predestined mark, and the Ravager could reach its rival, having apparently disappeared, there was the planet’s ice moon. The only thing between it, and its scrumptious meal, which it instantly became single-mindedly fixated on devouring again. As Barrusom got closer and closer to the frigid rock, it caught sight of the edges of a vicious sandstorm rotating at speeds great enough to breach the planet's atmosphere. Its eagerness to finally feed did not allow the ursim room to analyze the out of place phenomenon, however, instead retracting its tongue into its mouth, and tucking its fully regrown form into a somersaulting cannonball.

For a mere microsecond, it seemed as though the moon would be sturdy enough to survive the impact, but just as certain as the Ravager's hunger was to overwhelm all its other drives, so too did its impact with the frozen satellite send cracks fissuring across its surface. Before the moon could even start to split in two, the other side bulged, ruptured, and erupted skywards, launching a spray of frosted asteroids hurtling at the cold desert planet. In the midst of the spray, Barrusom emerged out of the hole it created, upper and middle arms unfolding in a debris clearing spread, followed by a hard leap with its rear off rim, throwing the moon into a vertical spin.

One fourth of the way to its meal, the world lost its light to the beast’s starving gaze shrouding the world in endless night. Midway through the ursim’s final flight, transparent spikes resembling bent javelins disappeared onto the side of the world consumed by natural darkness. Three fourths of the way to its destination, green rays peered over the mountains Barrusom was set to pulverize, eliciting a faint snarl as the source of the illumination took spherical shape with eight menacing outlines aimed maliciously at its form.

–

The purple eyed facsimile made a near beeline to Exeter, hurling itself like a shuriken on a direct intercept path of the approaching vomit beam, dimensions folding until it collapsed down to the size of a kangal. On its way to the girl and the beam, this copy of Aracite sliced through the Amalgam, its branches having extended far enough for azure moss to be visible along its upper length. The copy captured the products of its arboreal destruction within its gelatinous body, grinding wood, and moss within its core in search of the bacterial agent known only as Dorn - the *Healer* Of Cosms.

–

The collision between Aracite and Barrusom sent the two of them whirling in a fixed position, caught between the planet and its damaged moon. The ursim’s claws locked tight with six of the cephalopod’s spiked limbs, thrashing wildly against each other in a vicious grappling match. For every successful breaking of the other's grip, a missed swipe slashed open a rift, letting more roots in, only for their tips to be severed as another angry swing was taken, opening yet more rifts, increasing the speed at which the Amalgam spread. This boost in the root's invasive efficiency naturally allowed them to slither and grow their way around the warring giants, snaring limbs and threading a weave of an impediment of ll the while steadily impeding their movements as the root invasion became an increasingly troublesome presence.

Soon, the monsters were stuck, hardly able to move, as the branches grew between their limbs, their motions nearly ceased. Despite the pair's entangled predicament though, the Ravager did have an advantage: its tongue. Ramming the appendage through the nearest rift, Barrusom drank as much as it could, shrinking down and escaping the grip of Aracite, whose whole form bristled at what it knew was coming, spikes protruding all over its limbs, shredding branches, and giving it enough space to attempt to enclose them around its foe in a crushing, skewering death trap. Seeing the attack coming, the ursim retracted its tongue to the proper length, slapped its stomach with enough force to crack a neutron star, groaned for few seconds, and puked its vomitous jet in an upward dragging motion, size increasing and arms outreaching.

The contact could not have been more immediate, for like a death ray that was comprised of enzymic matter instead of raw, concentrated energy, the focused pressure cleaved the Executioner's upper half in place of where the heart and left lung would be, flesh boiling and hissing as the Ravager's digestive fluids burned and steamed flesh. Enraged, Aracite found itself on the losing end of the opening round, for as Barrusom evacuated its stomach, so too did its size return, and with that came its strength as well. Namely the strength to perform a standing motion which allowed it to push its rivals limbs apart, forcing them open, and rendering Aracite’s nucleic eye vulnerable to a second attack, but therein lied very real, and very technical problem, that the ursim, in its extremely limited intellect, failed to account for.

The Ravager had six extremely powerful limbs.

But the Executioner possessed eight.

In an act of savage, but very much drivenly determined desperation, Aracite exploited the difference in limb count and shaped the tip of its top right tentacle into a spiked hammer, bringing it down like a whip. Barrusom didn't have time to so much as process the sudden impact, for the moment it was made, three of its six eyes were punctured and bleeding heavily fractionated rays of photonic energy, specifically the upper-right, middle-left, and bottom left eyes, the light superheating all that it touched. To add to the sheer viciousness, instead of simply letting go, the Executioner curved the spikes of its modified appendage into hooks, burying them in its nemesis’ sockets, and without mercy or delight, but simply raw, animalistic brutality, began to pry on the Ravager's mask. At the same time, its transparent flesh crystallized, funneling Barrusom's light through its own body, where it accumulated at the tips of the rest of its tentacles, all of which were cunningly aimed behind it.

Harder and harder did the Executioner pull, provoking a truly agonizing wail that made all of space vibrate and tremble. Exeter and the fast arriving facsimile would be able to feel it too, shaking their cells, and even the elemental molecules composing their organic tissue, and the dark matter which held it altogether. The Executioner had prepared for such a destructive contingency, hence its change in molecular structure allowing it to withstand the close range consequences of its actions.

Nearly finished inflicting its torturous punishment, Aracite gave one final tug, ruthlessly lifting off the damaged mask in segments corresponding to each punctured eye socket. Gooey strings of membranous tissue emitted multicolored, kaleidoscopic light, displaying incomprehensibly condensed versions of all the sights Barrusom’s eyes swallowed during its many rampages. Attached to those strands was a muscled and badly maimed complexion resembling a cross between a grizzly bear and a baboon, its tissues twitching as the Ravager temporarily succumbed to the pain. Then with one final rip, the Executioner removed what remained of the damaged segments and flung them to the wayside, rocket blasting all the energy it absorbed out its tips whilst the fractionated eye beams solidified into full blown pillars, each featuring their own heavily randomized collage of everything Barrusom had seen in its life, each scene taking physical form as it swept over the cosmos.

The trajectory of Aracite's path, pushed them through the ice moon’s debris field, then destructively through the two almost fully separated halves of the frosty giant, back along the path of the footprints, whose positions had subtly shifted as a consequence of the Barrusom’s wailing. It was upon reaching the first of the footprints that the Ravager began to reawakened, snarling at its foe, only to be struck by the might of its own apergetic stomping being explosively driven back into it. This simple detonation trick revealed just how intelligent and planning the Executioner could be, particularly when it came to dealing with its rival, evidenced again as it skillfully directed Barrusom into another repositioned footprint, sending the two blasting off in another direction, then another, and another, until it started to look like the two monsters were engaged in a game of cosmic pinball, with their destination precalculatedly aimed for them to arrive back where Exeter and the facsimile were about to arrive.

–

The facsimile skidded to a halt mere feet from Exeter, its eye shifting purple to red, to stone gray, and back to purple. It made no move to attack, nor protect itself from any hastily thrown together offense she might have chucked at it, though if she had been able to see the battle raging between its larger copy, and Barrusom, she would know that Aracite was not a creature to be taken lightly. Suffice to say, just as it was the case with this cosmos that was being so carelessly torn apart by the Ravager in its quest to feed, so too was it not yet her time to die, though in a few billion years, her Execution date would arrive in a manner just as swift and inevitable as her birth.

For now, so long as she didn't try to interfere with its cosmic rescue operation, it would leave her be.

Turning its slit away to focus on the battle, the facsimile positioned its tentacles like hoses, each one aimed at the numerous rifts produced by the Ravager’s chaotic nature and set to work spraying them down with Dorn’s concentrated essence. It would take time to complete the job, but as with all things, the rifts in the continuum were already starting to show signs of healing, for like peroxide poured onto an open wound, the edges of those portals began to bubble, and break Ebrias apart, initiating in its own microscopic war in stark contrast to the macrocosmic chaotic one that grew closer and closer in proximity to Exeter and the facsimile.

A Bubbling Brew To Bash Boredom's Brains In

The beast continued its charge, bothered only by its own hunger, fueling its savage determination to find a meal. Then, something extraordinarily odd happened: the radioactive fire contained within the dark matter orbiting Barrusom's body inversely sent the local temperature of space plummeting to a level that would make anything that passed through the inferno exceptionally brittle. Furthermore, dark matter was the glue that held the cosmos together, and was directly responsible for the bonding of elementary particles, atoms, molecules, and all things present within the cosmos. Without it, there would be no planets, no stars, no galaxies rich with things for the Ravager Of Cosms to feed on.

Disconception, in its last moments, inverted the properties that allowed dark matter to hold everything together, including the sword's own mass. Had Barrusom not flung a substantial portion of the sticky stuff off its fur, the blade’s effects on its flesh would have caused the ursim to dissolve and crumble apart. Instead there was distance, albeit a small distance, yet still enough to prevent it from getting its body directly involved with the matter-destruction process that Disconception had wrought forth. The end result was the blade ushering its own anti-climactic deconstruction, molecular disassembly, and particulate dissemination, by forcing dark matter to behave in a manner that caused it to pull its existence apart instead of together.

Infinitesimally small fragments of metallic dust, themselves soon to be nothing, touched the upper-layers of Barrusom's sticky fur. It felt a slight weight differential, followed by an irritating itch that made the Ravager growl and turn around, responding as though something had just touched it. Surveying the area with its eyes, Barrusom bore witness only to that which it had seen countless times already, but as a precaution against further interference, decided in its primitive thinking to do something about being bothered.

Rearing its forelimbs up again, Barrusom mercilessly bashed the continuum of space again and again, backing up with each imprint it left so as not to be standing in place when the inevitable shockwave erupted. Then, driving its claws through the fabric itself, the monster deliberately ruptured the membrane separating the ocean of blood and milk from this universe. Space exploded yet again, carrying tidal shockwaves filled to the brim with the very same acidic content Barrusom had vomited up mere minutes ago, their corrosive effects so damaging to the continuum waves that soon, there would be no continuum lifting Exeter up, down, or wherever her sense of direction told her. Soon, there would be only waves of space-time dissolving red and white acid that would inundate and decimate all but the Amalgam, and those creatures whose habitats were the Outerverse itself.

Satisfied with what it had accomplished, the beast turned tail and blitzed toward its meal, fed up with not being able to gorge itself. Unfortunately, for it though, something else was also starting to get fed up–namely, with what the Ravager was doing: damaging the universe in such a way was bound to produce impurities, and throw off the collective multiversal equilibrium via interverseborne, pathogenic release, and thus – interfere with their natural lifecycles. In other words, universes would grow sick and die before their time, and that was extremely inconvenient for a different beast's feeding cycle.

A single eye appeared as a holographic, sphere-shaped crimson ocular, from which eight transparent tentacles spanning 7/8ths of this verse's total AU pressed against the star-speckled backdrop of space, and observed the chaos through a single black slit.

It was the Executioner…