ERode

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Night 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing

_{@OwO@AThousandCurses}
It was not form that determined effect, but effect that guided form. Inventions did not come from matter, but from idea. A desire. And if that was the case, then how necessary was a defined form? Given the proper tool, what need was there for a reasonable cause to generate an effect?

Her fingertips burned, glowing with the light of her core once more. She could feel the energy building, peeling out from her fingernails, as her mind formed the trajectory. With a swing of her hand, Rin drew a line in the night air, one and a half meters in length. An arc, in truth. A crescent, like a moon.

The release was near-instant, a flash of light slicing through the air!

But what was novel for Rin was common for the monsters. The Long-Tailed intercepted, its blade clashing against that energy construct before it exploded, impotent! A failed attack? Nay. She could see it. Her blade had been shattered, but its blade had been chipped, repelled back by the self-same explosion!

And whereas Rin became formless, Shun became Formula One.

She had always been energy personified. Her parents had joked about her heart being an engine before she ever got her moped. Always forward, never back. So long as she wasn’t the one who would get in trouble, there was no reason to stop. Her body burned, from the pain and from the heat, blood steaming out from her multitude of injuries. She had been faster than she ever was, once. And now? She was faster still, to the point that her mind couldn’t even keep up with her actions.

Shun’s head slammed into her adversary in one step, and in the next step, the two reached the depths of the treeline, both of them smashing through the terrain before the sheer force of the consecutive impacts wrenched the two of them apart. It had been so much faster than the excitable girl had thought. So much more forceful! Her legs felt numb, forced beyond even superhuman limits to achieve the effect of a truck slamming into a teenager.

But it had been enough.

The blood that coated her face was not hers, and the beast before her was still stunned, its lower jaw hanging on one hinge. A familiar choice presented itself once more.

Rin was out there. Alone now.

Would Shun finish off this crippled monster, or return to assist her classmate?

_{@baraquiel@Yankee@Vertigo@Cu Chulainn@Nakushita}

This was his weight to bear. The iron hot and burning, but controlled still with a purpose. Masato could not surrender it after all, the responsibility of being the Student Council President, of being a leader, of being a shepherd. Of being someone who had to be better.

Hana lead the way, her pen-sized flashlight carving a swathe through the darkness. Daisuke brought up the rear, filled with an energy that was at once determined and nervous. Masato stayed in the center, the one most capable of responding to any other threads. And though he had tried to take on Yukiko’s burden as well, she ignored him.

No, ignore perhaps may have been too harsh a term here. She looked like she had something to say, but in the end, didn’t say it. A stupid question, perhaps.

Together, the band slipped off sideways, leaving the chaos of battle behind for a trek into the unknown. Seeking safety, in a world that could not guarantee even a sliver of it.

For Ayana, that meant a slow death. Her body was firmer than the ground so she wasn’t crushed by the earth, but that was all. She was suffocating. Her thoughts growing hazy, her struggle depriving her body of more oxygen. Her limbs were numb, blood vessels constricted by the impossible weight. All she could do was hope for the best, but what was there to hope for? She couldn’t even see where her classmates had gone. If they had fought, there were still two hulkphants that were still lumbering about. If they had ran, that meant she was now alone.

She wasn’t the brightest. Wasn’t the strongest either. Back in elementary school, she’d be called a clumsy idiot by other kids, while her teacher made her out to be a troublemaker and her father thought of her as a little disaster. Banned from the kitchen after too many incidents with knives. Sitting out from home economics classes after too many incidents with needles. Banned, for fear that there was something that would happen to her that she couldn’t recover from.

Was this it? Did anyone even know she was here?

Kogen did.

He climbed quickly, hands finding easier purchase around the thick fur of his mount. His legs were too short to wrap around anything, but he could squeeze his thighs together at least, pincer it between the fat around the spine. And with a yank of the reins, the image was complete! The One-Eyed Devil, mounting a mountain of a beast, commanding it to charge at its prone brethren!

That delusion lasted half a second, before the monster stood up on its hindlegs. Turned around.

Fell on its back, straight upon the charred remains of the bus.

He had seen it once with Masato, smashed into the ground by superior strength and mass. He had seen it again with Ayana, flattened into the earth by superior strength and mass. Now? Kogen too experienced it, the weight of an entire body dropping his whole body through charred steel and melted rubber, finishing with an impact that flattened him whole. His hands came away with but loose fur as the monster rose, the force that he took still jarring his brain, and before the Devil could rise once more, the hulkphant’s jaws opened.

Teeth. So much teeth. A tunnel of teeth, each rotating like a nightmare of a cement mixer. Wholly unrecognizable from the mouth of a dog, the mouth of a wolf.

And snapped shut.

The only thing that prevented Kogen from becoming K ogen were two things: his arms, pressed against the upper jaw to prevent it from closing fully. But that too, was a slow death. How long until his arms lost their strength? How long, until he ran out of blood?
How long, until his mind gave in and accepted a death that could at least be quick?

How long, until Asahi couldn’t dodge anymore?

His mind could keep up, but his body couldn’t, and the situation he thrust himself in demanded both. Beneath the hulkphants, he spun and slashed, a pink-colored gale. At times, the fang-dagger tore out tufts of fur and skin. At times, the fang-dagger ripped into fat, leaving raw gashes. At times, the fang-dagger drew blood, scattering like petals.

But they were shallow wounds, compared to the threat of each concussive stomp that Asahi had to dodge. He felt the secondary impact even as he avoided the strike itself, the air rippling against his skin and clothes, the upturned soil scattering into his hair. He couldn’t make space like this, couldn’t get out from beneath the beast. It simply followed him, simply redoubled its efforts to crush him in a single blow, like how one would pursue a rat or a mosquito.

And he was running out of air.

Through his narrowing vision, he could see Kunio pick up Sasuke, carry the unmoving boy away. A spot of relief, perhaps. Could see the rest of the fighting that still had to be done. Kogen’s legs, dangling out from a hulk-phant’s mouth, as that delusional idiot struggled to accomplish something. Ayana’s form, completely gone from beneath a hulk-phant’s body, flattened and suffocating.

And Asahi himself. Each step sending another twinge of pain up his calves. Each swing reminding him how inadequate a dagger was when his foe was so titanic.

A risk needed to be taken.

The forge needed to be fed.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Quiet week, eh?

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@VitaVitaAR@6slyboy6@Psyker Landshark}

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Good.

She’s settled now.

She could reflect and understand two things.

One. The common man still possessed no defense against the sorceries of malcontents.

Two. One can take heart, at least, that this was only a grisly death, one that would not be out of place in the frontlines of a proper war.

…

Serenity doubted that the latter would be of any comfort to the fallen.

And as for the one who had appeared amidst the carnage, untouched and yet suspicious nonetheless? She didn’t care for Alette’s personality, nor for whatever connection she had with the other former mercenaries in their midsts. House Arcedeen had considered reaching out to her once or twice, when words of her deeds were sufficient to travel southwards, but ultimately, she was one of many mercenaries too unstable to be considered. There was effective violence, and there was superfluous violence.

Alette the Shark trended towards the latter.

As for what killed the men inside the keep?

Charm, perhaps, to bade all the residents of the Fort to a single point of slaughter.

Sow Discord, a wild spell that causes equally wild reactions from its targets. It’s likened to inflicting temporary madness.

Her eyes settled upon Dame Amy.

“Knight-Captain. Have the Shark gather her band. It doesn’t have to be here, but it’d be better to understand who is with her, rather than be caught off guard by who is not.”

Five steps. Right hand to grab the half-demon by the wrist, then to bring her out of the fort once more, away from the grisly sight. Serenity had some understanding of the cleric’s powers. To have her break from exposure, when her insights would be the most helpful in unravelling the specifics of the blight brought upon Fort Daelantine, would be irritating.

It didn’t take long to leave the fort, be back out with nothing but sky and shadow, moon and stars. Serenity didn’t have any words of comfort for Amy though. She didn’t see the need in it.

“Sir Renar,” she spoke, turning to the one who had stayed behind. “They killed themselves in the fort. The sort of infighting that even feuding families from yore wouldn't have devolved into.” She blinked. "Where's Sir Steffen?"

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Toxic, perhaps? The stickiness seemed useful too.

Esfir rubbed her fingers together, nose wrinkling at the foul stench. It'll be a while before she could have any opportunity to wash it off, so for now, she simply had to avoid rubbing her eyes with that hand. Regardless, it was time to go. Grunthor, the most injured of the group, seemed fine with it, so Lazash and Akeno had less reason to stick around. Turning towards the dying fire once more, Esfir was about to extinguish it by kicking some dirt over it, when the rustling of brush revealed the appearance of two more Orc Runts.

Four versus two. And that snake was only prepped for cooking, not actually eaten yet. They had the advantage in terms of Skills acquired. Murderous Intent on the one with the hatchet, let Grunthor and Akeno finish them off. Frost Arc after on the other, suppress them until it was a four-on-one. They'd get the snake, the branch, and the hatchet.

"We're done here," Esfir said, nodding towards the newcomers.

This was a shoddy group with unaligned ideologies. They could perhaps coordinate against monsters, but if each one of them was human on the inside, there was no guarantee that they could flip the switch to attacking another sapient being. And they didn't have much ability to carry more than they currently did, either.

"Feel free to use what remains."

The sun was ever-falling. Better to leave such plots for another time.

_{@Kazemitsu@King Cosmos@Crusader Lord@Unkown58@Lucius Cypher}

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@HereComesTheSnow@Krayzikk}

It was a bad time to arrive at.

Night was falling, and with it, came the domain of the nocturnal. Fort Daelantine lost its battle-scars from ages past to the encroaching dark, and with it, became a slumbering giant, a golem’s corpse. Silent, except for bird cry and insect buzz, creatures rousing themselves as Mayon’s pale light shone. The messenger had escaped, then died on the spot, yet here, Serenity could see nothing that would signal conflict. There were no crows flying overhead, no stench of fire and dirt that accompanied a proper siege. The gate was ajar, but likely left that way only because of the messenger’s own flight.

She tapped a finger against the pommel of her longsword, pronouncing her thoughts.

The enemy would have bypassed the walls entirely. They had not come across any arrows studding the ground upon their approach; the guards at the battlements must not have been able to respond in time. No, perhaps not an airborne assault after all, if one considered how only a vampire and a half-demon could sense the death that clung to this place. Greater magics then. Teleportation, perhaps, like the such that plucked the Lightning Witch from her cell. Charm, perhaps, to bade all the residents of the Fort to a single point of slaughter. Plague, perhaps, sweeping with a brutal virulence through the populace.

She was ready, this time.

Buckler and longsword, three torches soaked in pitch, two hatchets, and a full suit of plate armor, the visor of her helmet lifted up to afford her precious visibility. The buckler, smaller than the shields she preferred, kept her off-hand free to hold a torch, one that ignited easily with a spark from her stone.

“We’ll be depending on your sacraments, Sir Nicomede,” Serenity spoke in passing. There was something foul afoot, something unnatural.

If it was that fucking vampire again though, she was going to fucking lose it.

Soon enough, she was matching steps with Gerard, her destination clear: the interior of the fort itself. If only the Paladin could smell the massacre, then it only made sense that such atrocities were sealed beneath stone walls.

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Night 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing

_{@OwO@AThousandCurses}
Shun ceased her thoughts and became as beast.

Her legs shot her through the distance that separated her and the Long-Tailed, while her arms raised up to protect her most vital body parts: her head and her heart. The first injury she suffered had confirmed it: even with the element of surprise, the beast’s blade wasn’t able to slice through her bones. Her blood will clot. Her cuts will heal. All she had to do was power through!

Flesh flayed from her body, a death by a thousand cuts. Shun pressed on regardless, pain the guide that told her she drew ever-closer. Her arms, battered and bleeding, remained in place to protect her eyes and her neck, elbows dipping low enough to cover her sides or stomach if necessary. So long as she could endure!

The beast, evidently, did not cease its thoughts.

There were three monsters present, and their strategy of drawing out a portion of their prey’s fighting force was successful already. There was no need for suppressive fire anymore. And while one of the Ten-Eyed tangled with Rin, the other one gathered its energy once more.

Shun was fully-focused. She hadn’t realized, in time, that there was a reason the Long-Tailed allowed her to get so close.

One step to the side as she dropped low, and suddenly, the sinuous blade-bearer was out of sight, replaced by the brilliance of a fully-charged blast. Momentum was against her, her defense was open, her body too riddled with injury to respond. There was no dodging it now.

A beam struck her face-first. Like a baseball bat, swung right into her nose. Blood spiraled as she flew back, but before the Long-Tailed could follow through with a lethal or crippling injury, one that would take out her eyes or slice open her throat, a nearby explosion scattered the trio.

Rin.

Desperation lent to delusion as she hollowed herself out. In dilated time, she could feel herself peeling away, could feel something soldering wiring into her brain. It burned, seizing her mind with such psychic ferocity that her entire body responded in kind to the unnatural stimuli. Heart pounding, blood pulsing, eyes burning, skin sweating, stomach gurgling, fire forging.

Energy coursed out of her palms, piercing into her spear, and tearing it apart from inside out. She felt the splinters pierce her palm, pushed into her flesh by the ethereal substance that replaced it. It felt like grasping glass. Hard, yet fragile. Her mind seethed, the substance flickering, wavering. What was she trying to make? What was she trying to do? What was a spear? The wooden thing that she carved? The pointy thing that she saw in documentaries? The slashing thing that the shrine maidens demonstrated from time to time? An arrow, elongated? A javelin, thrown by athletes?

She grasped at an image. She grasped at lightning.

And, with microseconds draining like trickling sand, she had no recourse but to thrust this misshapen construct into the orb.

As fragile as glass, as hard as glass, it shattered upon impact, an explosion that sent her flying back, an explosion that caused the Ten-Eyed to reel back, an explosion that warned the other two monsters of a new threat, an explosion birthed from inspiration.

An explosion that saw the two middle schoolers falling prone together.

An explosion. A peak beyond the gate of their limited possibilities.

_{@baraquiel@Yankee@Vertigo@Cu Chulainn@Nakushita}

Chaos reigned on both ends.

By the skin of her teeth (or perhaps the skin of the hulkphant’s teeth), Ayana survived to see another day, the audible click of the monster’s jaw snapping over empty air lost to her. She recovered, an expert at bouncing back from the sheer insanity that was unfolding, and naturally followed through with another batshit idea afterwards.

A flying headbutt.

Well, certainly Ayana didn’t very much treasure the precious few braincells she had left rattling in her cranium.

Sprinting at maximum speed, the walking disaster leapt up and became as a spear, her cranium crashing into the hulk-phant’s chest. It was, on reflection a bit of a comfortable sensation, really. She struck its stomach, the soft tissue cradling her head in a way that must have made for the weirdest headpat ever. It even gave the monster itself some pause, the breath knocked out of it, its own advance towards the frailer prey stopped for the time being.

Then, it decided to drop down.

Splat went Ayana, as the full weight of an Asian elephant gave her the worst hug she had ever experienced.

Her madness, however, must have been infectious.

Asahi’s laughter sounded brightly, rattling out from his stomach as he bore the arms of a dead man. There were two hulk-phants occupied, one way or the other, by the students. It went to show then, that if any of them were able to escape, the third one, the one stalking the perimeter, would have to be distracted.

So he walked, so calm that he felt glee.

Until the third hulk-phant turned, a mountain of flesh that could blot out the stars. It settled down, lower. Sinking its head to loom before the mad child. Fangs flashing in a sign of intimidation, of dominance. Six-eyes zeroed in to two blue.

Time dilating.

Intentions crystallizing.

Then, Asahi felt it. A weight settle on his shoulder. A foot.

Kunio, airborne, stringy arms windmilling through the night air. The hulk-phant raised its head, but even with such superior strength and speed, surprise had lent an instance of a delay, and the boy landed on top. Asahi could see it now, what was clenched in the Badminton Ace’s fist, moments before it drove itself into one eye! Two eyes! Three!

The sharpened fang pulled from the corpse of a bearwolf, punching through delicate organs in a way that even Rin’s tools couldn’t!

The hulk-phant let out a howl, one paw sweeping upwards, but Kunio was already gone, his sense of danger causing him to stop only part way through before springing up and away.

“YOU CRAZY FUCK!”

Was he referring to the hulk-phant, or Asahi?

Both, likely, but what was the price of an admonishment, compared to what had just happened? The hulk-phant was blinded on the left side. It was turning away, ready to pursue the scraggly thing that had so greviously injured it. And, rotating through the night, spinning like a toy, that fang-dagger fell.

As if meant for him to take.

Where fang carved flesh though, Kogen was faced with a different story.

His throw had been perfect. Even accounting for the weird balance of the spear (Rin was good with her hands, but not that good), he could adjust. Humanity had reached their position on the top of the food chain through their intellect, and the first thing that their intellect gave them was not fire, not tools, but the power to throw things.

So throw he did.

And saw the spear bounce off.

The barrier. That supernatural phenomenon that once again denied his attack! In the distant dark, he could hear the howling of the third hulk-phant. What had happened to it there? No time to linger on such thoughts; his landing, at least, was successful, seizing handfuls of coarse fur without problem. Little more than an annoying pest. But a pest was still a greater annoyance than the ant beneath it.

With a roar, the monster ceased its attempts to crush Masato flat, and instead flung him away. He flew well, skipped against the ditch before crumpling some distance away, his head ringing.

Distantly, he could feel someone pulling him up. Warm hands, callused hands. Tsubasa’s face before his, trying to find someone she recognized in that befuddled face of his. He could see around him now. Three hulk-phants were distracted; they could all evacuate. Hana, monitoring the situation. Maki, leaning against Daisuke. Yukiko, desperately trying to heave Yuki over her shoulders. Juro and Sohei, gripping wooden spears that had already proven their ineffectiveness, but unwilling still to part with the only wepaons they had.

Akito, lending a shoulder to Tsubaki, whose face was paler than Masato was accustomed to.

Whose right arm ended in a bloodied stump, the stench of fresh blood making her much to easy for any predator to track. But they couldn’t leave her. They couldn’t leave anyone.

Yet they still had to.

“Masato.” He knew Tsubasa was giving him an out. Whether out of kindness or out of practicality. “We need you with us. Let’s go.”

His back hurt.

Hurt, like how the straps of his bag dug into his shoulders.

Hurt, like how his spine protested against the weight he bore.

Books. So many books. Books on Japanese literature and history, on mathematics and biology, on exam prep and exam prep and exam prep. His responsibility to his future self. His responsibility to the family he still cared about. His responsibility as the Student Council President.

He could see Kogen, scrambling as the hulk-phant tried to shake him off.

He could see Asahi, teetering on the boundary line of sanity.

He couldn’t see Ayana, suffocating beneath the belly of the beast.

The forge burned, awaiting a hand brave enough to plunge into the flames to grasp the molten ore within. What was it though, that rested inside Masato?

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_@VitaVitaAR

A scream disrupted her opponent’s attention, and Serenity slowed her own swing, tapping the wooden sword against Fanilly’s helm as her gaze was diverted.

“That’s that.”

Serenity removed her own helmet upon the conclusion of this spar, peeling a strand of sweat-slick hair away from her temple. Her body felt warm enough, her heart beating at a measured pace, and her mind was still alive, simulating the options she had. It would have been different if she had been equipped the way she normally was. It would be different too, if both of them were in full plate.

But it wasn’t.

“Have them bring your food here,” she spoke. “It’s best to review immediately after, while the sensations are still fresh, Captain.”

Serenity would eat on her own time, after. For now though? There was a lot she had to say to Fanilly.

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

There was a map in Verity’s studio.

A map made of sketches upon post-it notes, depicting an island that did not exist on this planet. Some notes were stained by water, others by dirt. Some were torn as if pressed against a rough surface, others were marked by uncertain charcoal. It was a pastiche of a map, one draw with only an approximation of an appreciation for the art of cartography.

But there was a sense of obsession there. An obsession tightened by the bareness of the studio, how nothing was present in the room of this teenage girl except for equipment and gear, textbooks on all sorts of DIY crafts.

A sense of obsession.

A sense of adventure.

...

"Lookin' fer Verity, officer? Yah, she frequents this place plenty. Real pleasant, pays well, though obviously not with her own money. Don't see those types too often round here, ya know? The type who like to get out there."

"Hmm, yes, I do recall seeing her. She picked up a fairly big package off from Amazon over at our postal office. Well, I say fairly big, but it was relatively small, just quite heavy. Couldn't tell you where she is right now, but she does have a habit of appearing out of nowhere."

"That little girl? Ah, no, she definitely comes here plenty. Big interest in the old maps in our archives and all; couldn't tell you why though. Don't think the HAGAY teachers ever did any real history. Just classical BC stuff. So I suppose it was mostly self-interest on her part. Weird though. Nothing but old and forgotten places here."

...

The sun was setting upon the dockhouse where Sofia had set up a meeting, less than a week before. It was, as well, the last time anyone saw her. The clouds burned red, the waters turned gold, and the detectives muttered to themselves about how only trust fund babies could afford to be a truant in a school as prestigious and expensive as HAGAY. Diego was wiping his brow with a handkerchief, a day of legwork giving him only inconclusive information on how every school had a teenage weirdo. Nathan, zealous, was poring over every crack on the boardwalk, trying to discover any sign of foul play that may indicate that Sofia was murdered by the group that she had summoned.

Neither of them looked up. Not until Verity spoke out.

"Yo." A crunch of potato chips, flavored dust blown by a soft breeze onto Nathan's head. "Looking for Sofia?"

The responses were guarded, the questions were pointed, their combined experience made for years that were double Verity's age, and yet, the brunette still sat atop the roof of the dockhouse, looking down at them. Listened to what they had to say, but answered nothing.

Then, broke the silence once more.

"One of you should go to the second floor of HAGAY. The main building." She smiled. The bag was empty now, and it crinkled as she crushed it into a ball and sealed it in her bag. A drybag. Limegreen. Brand? Sealine. "Call the other once you're there."

They humored her. Better to form rapport, if you couldn't intimidate with authority alone. It was hard, after all, for two detectives to have more power than the heirs to great fortune and fame that often made up the student population here. All of a half hour passed before Diego's phone rang.

And, as if that was the signal she was waiting for, Verity took three steps, leapt off the roof, and crashed into the waters below, all before the man could let out a warning or a shout.

One second.

Ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

One minute.

Three minutes.

Five minutes.

She did not surface. She was not there.

...

On an island that was not on a map, there were coconuts, the traces of a great monster, and now?

The framework of a boat, alongside a litany of tools and comforts.

...

Second floor. Main building. Her shoes, touching familiar tiling. Her bag, delightfully empty expect for the ball of plastic that bounced inside it. She met Nathan outside the boy's washroom, patted him on the shoulder.

"Figure out how I got from dockhouse to here, without passing you."

There was too much she didn't know yet, about that Sea, about Sofia's sinking.

"It'll help with finding Sofia."

...

"What the fuck?! That girl's a fucking nutjob, Big D!"

"Jesus, kid, don't ever call me Big D again. And I'm going to reserve judgment for now. She might just be a bit kooky...fancy a dive though, Inspector Nathan?"

Decibitus

---

~1510 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

---

A storm thundered, one unseen and unheard by the troubled populace below. Their emotions, fraught with confusion and fear, condensed upon itself, as the vestigial blood of the Holy Maiden continued its unending allure. And ghosts, fettered by regrets, egos decayed by death, drew themselves to the commotion and budding chaos.

Paris, the City of Flowers, was a peaceful city by the metrics of big cities like this.

And thus, the pull of an emergency such as this, magnified by the supernatural trait of a specific individuals, made it all the more enticing. Birds of a feather flocked together. Regrets that chained one to the Earthly plane came not from a peaceful death, a fulfilling life. The dead swirled above the crowds, a thundercloud in and of itself.

Through human emotion, twisting.

Through human presumptions, contorting.

Burst out of their phantasmal shells, spectral facades peeling away to reveal philofantastic reconstructions of ego. Cannibalizing each other, consuming eroded desires. A jar of poisonous insects, rattling open its seal, the sheer pressure of this anomalous chimera affecting the minds of the mortals down below. Inspiring darker emotions still, neighbouring buildings rumbling, cracking, at the genesis of this wisp.

A negative feedback loop, spiralling downwards beyond the realm of the dead, to touch at…

H̵̱̓O̵̜͌́L̸̮̀Ÿ̵͉̘́͘ Ḧ̸͉̳̞̖́̅́͛Ǫ̵̣̼̞̞̪͛͒L̷̝̻͍̀́̒̈͂̊͒̿Ỵ̵̈́͂̿̈͊̑̚͝H̴̼͙͑O̶̡̧̡̥͓͛̈́̑̀̍̚͘͝ͅĹ̶̻̪͍̝̫͉̔͊͐̓̌̑͂͝͠͝Ẏ̶̢̱͔̇͆̒̅͐̈́̄͑͂̾̌̚͝Ḩ̴̨̛̗̠̺̣̠̞͇̈͌̽́̾͛͗̿͑͂̌̒͘͝͝O̷͈̣̽̒̾Ļ̴̘͙̣͓̳̻͇̣̣̗͊͊͌̋͛̓̈͗̔̎̓̈́̌͆́̎̈́͘͝Ẏ̸͖̩̹̲̭͕̩͙͍̺͙͔̝̟̮͎̟͐̋̓͋̐͑͒̿̑͆̿͝͠ͅḤ̵͉̲̫̱͚͈̠̫̳̤̱͈͘ͅͅO̴̡͙̺͔̥̮̠̩̲̹̹̘͖̅͐͐͛̐̍̆͐̍́̓͊͛͌̀̓̚̕Ḽ̶͖͚͇̙͇̖̬͕͖̊̀̈̇̈́̉͊̀̃̈͆̇͛́̐̀͒̌̍̚͜͝Ŷ̶̧̢̡̡̛̼̰̙͓̝̘̤͙͍̫̣͙͈̤̲̯̮̦̌̉͑͛͑͋́̆̈́̀͂̃̐̈́̍͘̕͘͜͝͝ͅH̴̙̥̯̲̜͔̭̼̖̋͗͊́͒̇͜͝O̵̢̧̖͕̤̖̩̜͔̜̩̲̥̤̖̥̲̘͍̬̓͑̄̉̃̎́̿̃͌͌̀̅̆̈́͘͜͠͝͝͝Ĺ̵̛͙̞̪̐̅̂̽̆̅̿͋̐̓̏̽́̀́̉͐̍͗̃̓̏̕͜͠͠Ẏ̸̹̖͉͂̒̇̾͆̈̇̑́̈́̀̇̿̆̿͠

It seized Ed by the throat, silencing him with such totality that the necromancer could hardly breathe. The fluctuations of spiritual activity that he detected previously had spiked, reaching levels that he had never before bore witness to. Like a stone cratering through his stomach, like a black hole spinning through the Earth’s core.

Celeste froze too, cold sweat breaking out from an unplaced terror that she couldn’t identify, but it was the threat of the two, no, three invisible weirdos that set the monkeys off instead. Regardless of what they shouted, the mere fact that they shouted presented the sort of aggressive energy that the skeletal monkeys were trained to defend against. Leaping atop each other’s shoulders, they towered over Vera and Edward, hooting silently as they flexed their non-existent muscles in a show of dominance.

The woman, Megumi, frowned. At the half-conscious man over Vera’s shoulder, at the wildly inappropriate garb of the weirdo who called skeletons to his aid, at the whole ass sword that Vera held in her hand.

On reflection though, Emery also dabbled in making animated skeletons, and…

“I think we should leave,” Celeste whispered, already clipping her seatbelt in.

That was all Megumi needed to make her decision.

“Emery, go!” She snapped her fingers…or at least the best approximation of such an action when one wore gloves. “Sword lady, in the back with Celeste, Skeleton kid, shotgun.”

“Um,” the man behind the wheel squeaked, “Monkeys, please!”

With a direct order from their father, the trio of monkeys disengaged, leaping up off each other’s shoulders before clinging onto the top of the Yaris. There were only five seats, and between Emery, Celeste, Lucian, Vera, and Edward, there was no room for Megumi.

But that was fine.

The engine rumbled, wheels burning rubber before shooting out the parking lot.

Thirty seconds later, a second, louder engine echoed that refrain.

...

At the mouth of the underground parking lot, Aron and Amelia manifested, their gaze immediately drawn to the storm brewing in the distance. A storm spiritual, a storm monstrous, a storm that was an egg, gestating an anomaly manifested from siren cries and human paranoia, woven together by the unnatural constitution of a single woman.

Then, their gaze was secondarily drawn to a bright red minicar shooting up and out of the parking lot, running straight towards them! Then, straight through them, the faces of their co-workers flying right past them both in the half-second of 'contact'!

Now, what the hell was that?

Ten seconds later, an equally monstrous Honda Rebel 1100T DCT ripped out of the lot, letting out a scream akin to a banshee!

One could only hope that the reapers could catch this ride.

Because if not?

It'd be a good while before either of them managed to sign up for a ride-sharing app and got a vehicle of their own.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

It was good food.

She had expected much worse, really, considering how badly the prep had gone, how few tools they had at hand for breaking down the Elwets, but in the end, Esfir could say that she approved of it. It was good food. With spices, it'd be improved. With a pot, it looked to be a good stewing meat. There was a satisfying denseness to it, the way it settled in her stomach, and perhaps, she recognized, this was the first time that she had eaten solid food in this body of hers.

Esfir closed her eyes, enjoying this moment of fullness for a bit longer. Pleasures were rare. She would ensure that they were not. Food to feast on every day, a home to call her own, wealth beyond measure and business that recorded record growth after record growth. An army, literal or figurative, at her beck and call. A world, turned to an oyster, for her to peel and poke at at her leisure.

She ate cleanly. Not a dribble of juice trickled down her lips, not a scrap of meat remained on those bones. And as her 'skill', this gift of her birth, offered up further recompense for the mere act of eating. And who was she to turn down a gift such as this?

A gift, such as [Murderous Intent].

Now, it was just a matter of thinking. Nookis in forest dens, Camazots in mountain caves. There was the threat of nighttime predators, certainly, but the larger issue was one of accessibility. Regardless of what she thought about the barbarism of Orcish society, it went without saying that it would be more dangerous still to be caught outside at nightfall. Nests that they know not the appearance of, or caves, which would require an ascent up a mountain.

Esfir tensed the muscles in her legs. Still as spry as when she had set off.

Of the organs that the Elwet had, it was the stomach that was the most useful. Just spill out the bile, tie up one end, widen the other end, and there. A bag. Small and smelly, but for the purposes of what she wanted to use it for? It was enough. While the others continued to talk, making their preparations to head off, Esfir took in a deep breath before striding towards the foul bush, stripping its leaves and seed pods, before tossing both into the stomach-bag. It would be more effective if ground to powder, but for now, she could settle for smoke. The beak, while possibly usable for a spearhead, would serve to carry some of the smouldering embers of the fire instead, then used to cap off her bag. The stick itself, used as a roasting spit, wasn't likely to be of any used to her anymore, so she let that go, replacing it with the antlers of the Elwet instead. With some finagling, the orc runt finally set things off by bundling the feathers and sparkstone into her raggedy clothes and nodded to herself.

She definitely needed a bigger bag after this. One with straps so her hands could be free.

No matter though.

"Caves next. Camazots, yes?" She could only imagine them as bears or wolves. Good prey, if one could get over how they were predators. "Any of you recall anything of them?"

_{@Kazemitsu@King Cosmos@Crusader Lord}