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Regularly huffs chili powder.

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Japan


The sky puckered, like a pond's surface breaking to a thrown stone, and the metally smell of ozone flushed the air. Clenching her fist around the paradox she'd prepared in her hand, Verga flicked through spacetime, just as the heavens opened up with a undulating drum of ker-cracking. The place where she'd just stood bulged and exploded with lightning, barely missing the vanished Verga.

"CAN YOU FEEL MY POWER?" roared the Emperor. Though the lightning quickly dissipated, the air continued to heave and wobble, like a beaten tuning fork. Nature itself was struck dizzy and delirious.

It had been as predictable as a traffic light, of course, Verga expected nothing less after tackling the Emperor and then taking the time to talk and vent, but there wasn't any consolation in that. Even knowing from a mile away an attack would be coming, the split-second force of the lightning had forced Verga to peel apart the dimensions just to avoid it. My last get-out-of-jail card, she thought grimly, as she slipped back into reality behind the Emperor and felt some lilting power fizzle and die from her molecules. Stretching her muscles and skimming her mental checklist, it seemed, for the time being, Verga had lost access to all her shields. She'd have to make due with swords.

Foolish, arrogant human... Privately, Verga had been glad the Emperor ignored her words in favor showboating. Privately, she was glad for every drop of shallowness and ugliness and foolishness and arrogance Daichi had thrown back at her. The simplicity of a brawl with a king on a power trip, the sticky, tar-like joy of gorging her spite—this made sense to Verga. Nothing in the world made sense, except for this. Verga felt as though she'd come home after a very, very long day in the woods. Wasting no time, she surged into action, her every move fueled by the sharp, charged-up energy of pure cold malice, and the terrifying might of the Emperor was like arms stretched out in welcome.

The Emperor's bellowing challenge had seemed to invite a response, or at least a quip, but clever quipping and mid-fight wordplay all struck Verga as distinctly gouchey. And anyways, trying to exercise her sarcasm muscles always brought Verga no small amount of frustration. Her only response, upon reappearing behind the Emperor, was instant, silent aggression, hurling an enormous axe-head of bright blue time straight at the Emperor's back. Dodging and blocking was a game she couldn't play for long, but maybe if she could slow him down...
@Surtr


"And this is what the humans call diplomacy?" roared the Emperor. "You insult me!"

“If no one else was going to do it,” muttered Verga, the vindictive satisfaction soothing her like warm water over snow-numbed fingers. With the Emperor blind and distracted, maybe this was her chance—but there was no clean shot through the wreckage anymore, action bursting to life among the nomads and the demons. It was a proper fight, now. But there was still an Emperor to deal with. Verga had decided already that this was her victory, and no one elses.

Ducking through fighters and magic and flailing martial arts, she forced her way towards the Emperor’s procession. She wasn’t even halfway there before a poleaxe nearly took her head off. A well timed punch shattered the blade as it went by, and Verga drew herself up into a proper stance as her path was blocked by one, then two oni. From behind, two more.

Verga had no patience for clean, honorable fighting, but clean, honorable fighting—one on one, no interruptions—was how she’d been trained, and as the mountainous demons bared their fangs and pounded their weapons with ritual rhythm, and growled from their throats with the sound of trees growing in fast forward, she knew she had no advantage here. Abandoning any pretension at martial arts, Verga dropped her stance and drew up a packet of heat and ki into her chest, and once again there was a gush of light and heat. Another ring of boiling gold stardust blasted out from Verga’s body. It exploded over her attackers, and they went flying.

For a moment, Verga stood and shook in place, sweat hissing off her skin as evaporated steam, and her hands would not stay steady. Twice, in just minutes—there’d be no more stardust like that any time soon.

Stilling herself, she turned to try and locate the Emperor again, and as she did something heavy and metal came rushing up to her out of the fighting. Verga raised her hands, a hardened shell coming up out of the air between her and the oncoming shape, but she wasn’t fast enough; with a lightning-sharp snapping sound, the lens of gravity was blown apart, and Verga went stumbling and skidding backwards in a crash of metal and electricity, her legs pinwheeling.

She struck her head against a rock, and she saw stars, and blood. For what could’ve been a second, or maybe a minute, her brain spun like helicopter blades.

No. Screw it. Screw this. And screw him.

Verga rubbed the blood from out of her eye, blue hair glued stickily to her forehead and cheeks, and after a quick glance, she caught sight of the Emperor.

The air gathered up in her hands, and so did the light, and when her hands were full to the brim with something white and dangerous-looking, Verga flickered like a million tiny bulletshots. Then, just a scissor-snip through space and time, and Verga was there in front of the Emperor.

Her fistfuls of aether were thrown out in front of her, and momentum carried Verga straight and true to go crashing across his face. A crack of light and a heavy sigh of wind. They went to the ground in a sprawl, undignified as possible. Smaller, lighter, she was sent skidding away from his fallen, hilltop-shaped form, but still half-sliding over the ground Verga stumbled to one knee and turned on the Emperor.

“What next, huh?” She spat gooey blood and saliva from her mouth, and she gestured at the ruins of the arena, the clouded-up sky, the brawlers and the fighters and the leftovers. “Humans aren’t oni. Wretched, undisciplined, never unified—you said it yourself. It’s hollow, hypocrite justice, holding a creature like that to oni law.”

Stumbling up to another knee now, but still not quite standing: “And if you’re here because you’re power-hungry? You’re Emperor for a few weeks, you kill a few hundred people, and then you remember the world’s a big place, dozens of governments with more power than sense come down on you and your dome, and inside the dome there’s nonstop fighting from rebel nomads and rebel spirits and whatever the hell else until it all finally blows over—You don't win this.”

Now she was upright. One hand shoved the blood-uglied hair from her face. The other held a bunched-up knot of spacetime. “If you want revenge for a human crime, you'd be better off negotiating. Just do it with someone who isn’t an ass-kisser. And if you want a fight, drop the pretend-justice and just fucking punch me.”
<Snipped quote by Savo>

>Discord
Thank God, I was worried that this RP was on its last legs with such a dead OOC chat. Do you have a separate Discord for this game or do you use the RPGuild server?


Oh yeah, we're actually super active, it's just that most of the conversation happens in the discord channel so the OOC can sometimes look a bit ghost townish. Glad to see some new blood though, welcome aboard!

(Also, for Jack's sheet, you'll want to cut the space from the "[ hr]"s, which'll turn them into underlines.




One week ago, Rio de Jainero


"Ughhhh." Brown blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. For several moments she thought she was still asleep. Dreaming. All because of the roof above her head in place of the usual open sky she slept beneath. She shifted atop her bed and was greeted with the splinters of pain shooting through her muscles like bolts of electricity.

Gritting her teeth she leaned up in bed, actually managing to do so successfully unlike the days prior. Shaking the sleep from her head Brown turned and threw her legs over the side of the bed.

"Morning," said Askin. It was sunny again today, and the little room they shared drank deep from the yellow morning. On the table between Askin and Brown's beds sat a tall black thermos, alongside an empty mug. Askin held its twin, full to the brim and shedding thin coils of steam. He sipped it politely while flipping the electronic pages of the little square Kindle resting in his lap. "Brenda was in earlier," he said to Brown. "Dropped off some tea from the café downstairs. Help yourself."

"Mmmm." Brown said nothing and reached out to the side table. Her hand wrapped firmly around the black thermos and pulled it to her. She made no move to the cup set out for her. Instead she unscrewed the top of the thermos, pressed it to her lips, and leaned backwards.

Dark, rich, and particularly hot liquid flowed into her mouth and down her throat. Had it been just a little hotter it would have scalded her flesh, but even if it had she would have kept drinking. Tea wasn't normally something she drank. Same went for coffee and pretty much anything you had to sit down and heat up. But Brown knew that tea had caffeine, or at least thought it did. And she knew that she liked caffeine.

"Well alright," said Askin, impressed, as she drained the hissing-warm thermos in a single swig. "So the whole shoot-to-kill thing is just your default for everything, huh? I can go get more, if you like."

"No." The seal between her lips and the thermos was broken as she pulled it away. Wisps of visible heat still trailing from the top and the opening of her mouth as she set it back down. "That's all I needed. I can't sleep very well so I never have to worry about being sneaked up on. But I never feel well when I wake up, so a pick-me-up like that helps a lot."

Wiping her arm across her lips Brown leaned back, legs over the side of the bed with her arms pressed back into the mattress to support her. She felt the warmth from her belly and the slow trickle of awareness brought about the caffeination of her blood.

"Sleep and I don't get along either," he said, in a pleasantly guilty tone, as though sleep was a neighbor from whom Askin once borrowed a drill gun which he'd never remembered to return. "I used to be a real caffeine demon, actually. But you can't live on pick-me-ups forever." He observed the dark shadows that lined Brown's eyes, like flotsam staining a gray winter beach. "You can buy melatonin tablets at most pharmacies. Luna is reliable, that's what I always take. Settles down all the things you don't want to think about. I think there's a pharmacy just a block down the street, if you want to do some shopping."

"Pills don't work on me very well." Brown said, rubbing her eyes. "But going shopping...that sounds nice."

"Besides the pharmacy?" Askin asked. "Ooh, you know, that does sound fun. Jonas mentioned we might be going up north. Maybe we could splurge on some nice winter gear? I can ask Brenda about the best local shops."

Askin took a careful sip of his tea. His book was apparently very engrossing; he never looked away from it when he spoke up next. "Do you ever have nightmares, Brown?"

Brown focused her dirty, dull brown eyes at Askin and stared into him. Though he didn't look up to meet her gaze she continued to stare as she sat in silence.

"I-"

She paused, looking down at the floor and then back at Askin as if searching for something. A reason to mistrust him, a reason to lie, a reason to refuse to say anything. But Brown couldn't and part of her wanted to speak. Badly.

"All I ever have is nightmares. I can't sleep without something bad happening inside my head. It's not that bad anymore, I guess. I've gotten used to it."

"Yeah," he said, nodding, as though agreeing with Brown on the weather. He turned the page on his Kindle. "I never got used to it, so maybe you're handling things better than me. Me, I dream about water. Miles of it. I'm at the bottom of a lake. It's dark, and I'm surrounded by dead folks. Not the kinda thing you want to dream about."

He turned the page again, then turned it back, and he wasn't really reading the book anymore, that much was clear, though he wouldn't meet Brown's eyes either. And his voice never loses that pleasant murmur of impossible neutralness, the voice of how-are-yous and nice-weather-we're-havings and welcome-home-babes. But no, no eye contact.

"What do you dream about?"

"..." Brown's lips tighten as she burrows holes into Askin's forehead with her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it, only to open and then close it again. Like a fish desperate for air but too scared to take a breath. Eventually she bites her lip, hard. Hard enough to taste something warm and red.

"My mama...my papa...and the fights." The words rolled from her lips like a deep exhale. Quiet, smooth, almost inaudible to anyone not specifically listening for it.

"I'm sorry," said Askin. "I don't want to press, I mean, if there're things you're not comfortable talking about—whatever you want, in your own time."

"I'm never comfortable talking." Brown said flatly, grabbing handfuls of the bedsheets as she sat on the edge of the bed facing Askin. "My moma and papa...they wanted me to be something. I was supposed to be the greatest fighter, the greatest nomad that had ever lived. And I wanted to be that but..."

A lump formed in Brown's throat as she reached around, pressing a hand into her back. The thick, sickening black veins radiating out from her spine though unseen never left Brown's thoughts. Askin, on the other hand, seemed to have been caught up on something she said. He sounded almost perky when a "No shit! Really?" escaped him. There was a moment when it looked like Askin was fighting off a laugh, but he apologized quickly. "Sorry, sorry, I mean, sorry, it's not that that's funny, but, no, yes, absolutely. I understand completely."

Brown's eyes grew cold and angry as for a moment she felt Askin was mocking her. She looked ready to lash out at him, eager to wrap her hands around his windpipe and squeeze till her palms touched each other. However his quick, albeit seemingly insincere, apology stayed her hand.

"It's not funny, no," he said, and his little laughs were a bit sober now, like stones laughing. "I'm sorry for laughing, Brown, really. But I guess it kind of is. Funny, I mean, just a little bit. Cause, you know, it's the same, really, that's my story too. The parents, the greatness, the nightmares, the whole thing."

The girl paused unsure of what she was hearing was the truth or simply a jest.

"Really? What-what happened?" She asked.

"Nothing special," he said, as though automatically, but then he hesitated, and added, "Well, it was pretty special. It was me. I'm born like this, see, the ki of a monster, this one very special baby who was supposed to do all the special things no one else could do. And that's what they told me, over and over. They believed in me so much. Can you believe it? They believed in this." He gestured at his diminutive, half-dressed body. "But that didn't work out too well for them. I didn't do what I was supposed to do, and then bad things happened. And now I'm here buying Luna for 21.95 at the pharmacy because it makes the nightmares not so bad. So I guess in the end it didn't amount to anything special after all."

Brown didn't look at Askin. She turned her head away from him and simply looked at the floor. A mix of anger and bitterness on her face as the non-genie's words sank in.

"I was supposed to be special, or at least normal. My parents wanted me to become someone great and I tried to do what they wanted..." Brown's hands curled into fists, her own nails cutting into her palms as they squeezed them together. "I'm the opposite of you. I was born wrong. Wrong time, wrong day, wrong place. My body is diseased, cursed."

The anger and bitterness on Brown's face crept into her voice, as ever word brought more and more of a buried rage to the forefront of her speech.

"I worked hard, I did what I was told. I wanted to be the greatest! I wanted to make them happy. All I ever did was work and try, and when they realized I couldn't be what they wanted they threw me away!" Brown stood to her feet, voice raising as she stepped away from the bed and towards Askin.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like? To know that other people can effortlessly do something that takes you so. Much. Effort? A day didn't pass by that I wasn't reminded of that fact. It haunts me even now after everything I've done, with how far I've come. Everything I do feels worthless because I'm still weak. I'm still less then others, still trying desperately to catch up when people bound ahead of me!"

Askin drew in his legs and slid them off the mattress. He was sitting up now, but the low little motel bed put him at the disadvantage. He had to look up even more than usual to meet Brown's eyes, whose cold spidebite anger made him feel small, somehow, in a way that actually being small never had.

"You got dealt a shitty hand that would've killed most people. And you did so much with it. You saved hundreds of lives and single-handedly crippled a fifty foot death robot. You're the person most other people wish they could be. You're not weak. And, and the thing is I know you know that too, somewhere, and I know that even if you do know that it doesn't make things better. Because the voices in your head don't care that you're not weak, and they don't care that there isn't a single person in the world that you're less than. They're so good at ignoring the facts, that you're strong and brave and the fact that everyone should admire you. And that sucks. That really sucks. I'm sorry, Brown."

"I am weak!" Brown bellowed, thrusting a finger at Askin as her eyes began to water. "I beat that robot, but I nearly died. That's always the way it is. I either lose and end up half dead in a ditch, or a win and I end up mostly dead in a ditch. Nothing I do is ever easy. No matter what I do, who I beat, or what I accomplish I never feel strong! Strong people aren't like me. They win and they feel good, they don't win and end up breathing their own blood for a week."

"I wouldn't know much about that," Askin said politely. "I don't find many things easy, and I don't really win. So I guess there's at least one person in the world you're stronger than."

He kept his eyes up against hers, and he didn't look away.

Brown fell silent. For a moment she simply stood there, staring into him before it became too much, so she stared down at the floor boards. Stepping backwards she dropped onto her bed with a look of anger on her face. She wanted to hate Askin. Wanted to resent him for his Ki, for the gifts he had that he did not. Yet sitting there he seemed so small and frail, and his words so familiar that it was a struggle to retain her anger.

So Brown simply laid on the bed and stared up at the stranger, unfamiliar ceiling. Across from her, Askin flopped back as well. Their knees pointed at each other neutrally from across the little isthmus that separated their beds

"Here's my theory," said Askin. "And I think I can make an accurate guess here, because I went through quite a few drugs trying to find the right sleep aid. The usual anti-histamines, see, they're good at knocking you out, assuming you don't have a tolerance. But that's all they do, they kick you off to sleep, or they don't. And that doesn't do anything about the nightmares. Luna is nice, I think, because it's mostly a relaxing drug. It doesn't kick you off to sleep, and it doesn't just wipe away the nightmares, but it makes things easier. Sometimes by a lot, sometimes by a bit, but it makes things easier. I don't think it's healthy, to try and turn your problems on and off like a switch, or hit your goals or miss them, one or the other. You just gotta take every little easiness you can find."

Lifting his left leg in a slight little kick, Askin gave Brown's discolored knee a gentle nudge with his sole. "Let's go shopping later. I bet we can find some killer new winter clothes. And maybe the Luna will work for you after all."

"I don't need winter clothes." Brown said, her voice low and disinterested as she continued to look at the ceiling. "But that Luna sounds...nice. Some candy would be good too..."

"Suit yourself," said Askin. "Me, I've always liked playing dress-up. Hope you don't mind indulging me on that."

Brown shrugged, though lying on her back it didn't seem like much. "It's fine. I've had to stick with these clothes for a while and if I get new ones they're just going to get dirty, nasty, or trip me up. Besides with G-tummo I don't need to worry about the cold."

"I've always kind of liked the cold," said Askin. "It's a nice excuse to go and bury yourself under some blankets, some quilts, sit down with a nice cup of tea. Doesn't get much better than that."


The woman in the costume limped confidently out of the wreckage, and when she spoke it was in the clipped and clear-spoken voice a stranger uses to another stranger in the elevator, the kind of voice that goes along with hotel lobby music, and outlet malls where sales representatives demonstrate revolutionary zipper-designs and the hottest new lipstick. She wanted to negotiate, apparently. Verga glanced around, at the dead and the dying and the thousand and one scattered pieces that had once been an arena, and she didn't think it was hard to tell exactly what kind of negotiations the oni emperor was interested in.

Verga could recognize the costume, vaguely, the one the self-styled diplomat wore. She had no small distaste for the showboating of the Justice Riders and their ridiculous dress-up games on TV, but seeing the woman force herself to suck this man's cock with pleases and thankses and polite niceties—no, Verga wasn't going to stay on the sidelines a second longer. Frigid bolts of pride and spite directed her, like hands shoving a steering wheel straight into oncoming traffic.

Before the eyes of the oni procession could shift from the Justice Rider, and before the self-proclaimed emperor could respond, Verga tightened her muscles, like her entire body was sucking on some invisible straw, and there was a sudden surge of heat. She stepped out into view and a mass of boiling, hot-gold stardust pulsed out from her body, like a great prehistoric monster, and it carved out a dizzying silhouette of light on its way towards the oni emperor and his attendants.


The sky broke, and when it did the cracks went in every direction.

Verga had little time to react—the rain came down not like a storm unfolding naturally, but like a child's toy dropped from the kitchen counter and shattering into a million billion pieces across the tiled floor. This, some part of her faintly thought, as she covered her face against the remorseless wind and remorseless rain, must be what it's like at the bottom of the ocean. Her ears popped from the tantruming air pressure.

It was seconds later when the stadium began to fragment under her feet with the sounds of lightning and thunderclaps, and Verga suddenly found herself sliding down the side of the building. Debris soared past her. Before she could dodge, one chunk of rebar came at her from her blindspot, and beamed the woman across the head.

I've gotten slow, she thought with jagged spite, cursing herself quickly and wordlessly.

The stadium finally gave way properly, and it plummeted away from Verga's feet, collapsing to the earth. Quick thinking this time, and Verga's Singularity technique drew gravity around her like a tight-knotted blanket. The stadium was gone, and she hovered in the air above the chaos. But up in the sky there was still wind and rain and spinning airborn detritus. She had to move. Maneuvering her way to the ground, tightening and untightening her Singularity, hovering in midair and falling like a rock, ducking and dodging and finessing—Verga eventually reached solid ground, and when she did she felt like she'd just spent a week out in the tundra.

And just in time. The feeling had barely returned to her lungs when the storm suddenly broke apart and dissolved, and then it was gone. Quick as a baseball strike, broken grayish twilight took its place. Mist hung heavy in every direction.

Then, the oni appeared.

They were about what you might expect, the creatures of mountains and fairy-wine and children's stories, all rippling muscle and beards and horns, and tattoos like fire. And, according to their leader, they were now calling the shots.

"Any objections?" the leader demanded.

That was it, then. Like all the most common violence, it was so aggressively mundane it might've seemed unrealistic. But real life wasn't an action movie, and in real life, the mundane wrote the rules, and here, today, real life was nothing more than a muscle-head who wanted to play big boy and call himself emperor. Verga may not have paid much attention in history class, but even she could see the infinite chaining pattern of kings furiously masturbating to their own fame and power across past and present and future.

Give it a few hours, and the nomads'll probably revolt their way through the oni like rats eating through a rhino, Verga thought. Who was it, the one that compared nomads to rats? Verga had heard that phrase before, on TV, or in a magazine. Rats, creatures in endless supply that live more-or-less harmlessly wherever you look and wherever you don't look, creatures more than capable of eating anything alive if you have enough of them. It was a good description, Verga thought. And if you couldn't count on the rats, then wait a few days, and the international community would come down like a thousand oni-sized hammers on the barrier surrounding the country and the self-proclaimed emperor.

There was a smart strategy here. Hang back, wait for the other nomads to mobilize themselves, wait for them to soak up the brunt of the undoubtedly powerful oni-attacks, and then maybe sneak up behind the oni chief and melt his brain out with the Antiparticle, or something. Traditionally you would say some smart one-liner as you did it, too. But Verga was not good with one-liners, her head was aching from the hit it took earlier, and to be perfectly honest something about the oni king and his my-penis-is-larger-than-yours attitude was really just setting her off today. More than anything, right now, she wanted something to hit.

But before she could put the smart strategy away in the garbage and maybe vent her general frustrations, a woman emerged out of the rubble and approached the emperor, and her hands were raised, not quite surrenderishly, but clearly not motioning to attack. It looked almost if, if Verga's eyes weren't playing tricks, that this woman wanted to talk.




(@lavulman's planning a post right after this with Jill trying to talk to the oni emperor, just so people know and don't go full attack-mode right off the bat before he gets a chance to finish the post)
Oh no here comes the fighting. Why can't we all just get along. Why must we speak with out fists, and not our hearts.

Normal? Jonas lightly shook his head as he took another glance at it, frowning. He tightly gripped the steering wheel, lightly rapping on it with one free finger. Squinting, he turned to eye the younger, creepily immature passenger, via the rear-view mirror for a couple of seconds. "Normal," he rhetorically asked in a light, quizzical sort of manner.

"Nah, that ain't even close to normal in the slightest," he murmured placing an arm on the window as he inconspicuously leaned his head to the side. "... well, for people who aren't nomads, anywho..."

Jonas kept tabs on the wolf-girl and Jotunn, nodding his head as he accelerated a bit to try and keep up with Otsana. "That far away, eh," he spoke to Otsy, cursing mentally to himself. The rapping stopped completely and the doctor gripped the wheel much harder than before. How friggin' peachy...

"... gotcha', I'll do my best to make it t'the fight as quickly as possible," he shouted out, falling a little bit behind Otsana and Klara. This was obviously going to be a bad idea if he tried to match their speed... but heck, going in without a plan was going to be a recipe for disaster...

And even more disastrous was that one out of six people here wanted to destroy that mechanical monstrosity.

Jonas was a little bit miffed by Brenda's response to have them not engage the dragon. His frown deepened as he passed through the traffic, eyeing the few fleeing civilians... some were even taking in the spectacle... well, they weren't paying em', so they would do them. "Look, it doesn't matter if others have beaten us t'the chase, we gotta take that thing down too," he shot back, passing by a slow moving truck.

"YEAH!" Brown shouted, the last flakes of her chocolate spraying onto the back of Jonas's head rest as she spoke. Eyes peering into the distance Brown listened for the metal dragon's roar. Her heart began to race at the thought of fighting it, of beating it like she had with the robot back at the arena. Countless fights before she had approached with either caution or complete abandon.

All that mattered was winning. Was breaking the opponent and achieving superiority over them. Before Brown's victories had felt fleeting or hollow, always against lesser foes or under questionable circumstances. But as she sat in the jeep with a monster in the distance just begging to be fought the memory of what she did back at the arena made her smile.

"We dunno if whoever is takin' the dragon on is capable of actually defeating it... and besides," Jonas accelerated a little more, nearly catching up with them and possibly breaking the speed limit for god knows how much he cared. "There are multiple reasons to take it down - for face, to make sure it doesn't kill any more of the people who are going to pay us if we complete this task, and any sort of information we might get outta' them," he shouted the last part as he made a very steep turn.

"... tha's includin' any leads on your brother," he whispered loudly enough only for the brawny beaut. Hopefully that would give her more of an incentive to fight with Askin and... Klara.

Brenda nodded her head at the mention of her brother. She doubted that he'd be here... but then again, a town being threatened by robots and willing to throw money at whoever solves it was going to be a Nomad magnet.

"We don't need a reason to fight the dragon! It's there, it's dangerous, and we can kill it without getting in trouble."The girl punched her hand into her other open hand as she looked over to Brenda, wondering briefly why the girl wouldn't want to fight.

But fifteen minutes?... hmm. He took a brief glance at the metal corpses once more that riddled the landscape... Maybe they could use these vehicles and robots alike t—

"Jesus Christ Askin, close th' door!"

Wait, what the fuck?

"Askin, what the hell are you doing," he shouted, somewhat moderately befuddled by the gung-ho attitude of the midget man as the side door flew open at the guy's behest. The doctor was more than aware of what he was doing... even as absolutely foolish as this was.

Jonas' eyes widened a bit as he grind his teeth, watching as the guy slip off his seat-belt. Yeah, he didn't know what action movies he was watching, if he had been, but this was honestly stu—

"I have you, small one!"

The motorbike swayed slightly as Klara bolted from the seat and swung an arm out in Askin's direction as he flew towards them. The pair of them were inches away, but in a moment of incredible coordination, or perhaps just blind luck, Otsana swung the handlebars around so hard the wheels left the ground just as Klara nearly swung herself out of the sidecar entirely, reaching out to grab hold of Askin. It looked as though Klara would miss him by inches, but by some miracle the ice giantess reached out and grabbed onto Askin's arm just as gravity took over and brought the bike back onto all tires with a slam.

"I admire your gall! she remarked with a out-of-breath sounding laugh, swinging him around to drop him onto the sidecar behind her seat. "But perhaps a warning next time? I can't imagine a fall like that would be pleasant!"

"I had complete faith in you," Askin said serenely.

Jonas slammed onto the brakes, skidding as the idiot rashly jumped with the resolution that he was going to make it into the vehicle. Sure, he was a nomad, but there was a time and place for this... and this? This was not the time to be pulling a stunt... but thankfully as it turns out, he wouldn't go splat on the pavement... thank god for Klara's long reach over Otsy, jeez...

"Heh," Brenda said, "Maybe hitting his head will learn him."

... someone was gonna get their ass lectured after they took out this dragon.

Otsana 's tires screeched as she reflexively tapped the brakes, her eyes going going wide as the Nomad jumped between the two vehicles. She ducked as he barely passed behind her. Unfortunately for everyone involved, she had swerved to try to avoid him too. The motorcycle skidded as he landed next to Klara. At the speed they were going, she didn't have enough time to stop, and they went straight off the freeway. Branches whipped at her face as they careened down the mountainside. It was all she could do to keep them from hitting the big obstacles, every small bump threatening to flip them over. She breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the edge of the woods, only to realize that they were headed towards a rocky outcropping that just happened to form a perfect ramp to launch them towards town. "Oh you're kidding me!"

"There are not more of those branches are there?" Klara, being much larger then Askin in addition to sitting farther up, had taken the brunt of the damage from the near misses with trees and had the leaves and twigs stuck in her now disheveled hair to show for it. Askin untangled a particularly unhappy-looking twig from her hair, and gave a small thumbs up.

Otsana pumped the breaks, but between the damp leaves and their momentum it was clear they weren't going to stop in time. "Hold on, we're going flying!"

"Flying? Flying to wha-aaaaaa-aAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Klara's exclamation trailed off as her question was answered, the bike sailing off the ramp and into the open air.

"Seems like a good time to ask, Klara" Askin shouted, as they went up, up, up on their weightless akimbo missile of a motorcycle, "do you want to go up and punch that dragon now?"

Klara's eyes went wide with excitement. "If you are offering, I would be more then happy to wrestle this Nidhogg imposter!"

"Don't know what that means, but great! Stand still, don't move until you see the light!" The butterflies were going wild in Askin's stomach. Pain he could handle, but the unnatural height was something else entirely. It was all going so quick, the motorcycle gunning through the air, the wind rushing by, Otsana triumphantly gunning the engine—Maybe if I reach down deep inside and find my inner wolf. Unfortunately, Askin found only more bouncing butterflies.

Steeling himself, Askin revealed two tiny bottles from beneath his cloak. In a blur of motion, Klara vanished into the left-hand container. As they reached the height of the arc, Askin swung back his hand, then threw, opening up the bottle at the height of the throw to send Klara rocketing through the air. With the other bottle, Askin fired a sharp shotgun blast of air at the frost giant's heels, oofing a little at the impact.

"VAAAAAAL-HALLA!" Klara unleashed a war cry with a mixture of shock and bravado as she soared into the sky, past the wings of the great metal beast and flying out of sight of the people closer to the Earth. "Vile beast!" Klara's voice echoed from beyond the dragon's large back as it started to jostle in midair to remove the unwanted guest. "Now you will see how the Jotunn fight!"




... ok, maybe not a stern lecture, but more like an ass whooping after this all! Jonas' eyes widened as he continued skidding down the road, his teeth grinding as much as the wheels on the pavement. Squeezing the wheel as they slid down the road, the doctor looked over outside Brenda's window as he saw the trio tumble down the hill.

"Oh my g- uuugh," he groaned, shaking his head as the vehicle came to a stop with another truck passing by him as he did. He craned his head back staring at the overhead of the jeep; if his stares were any more fiery, he would probably burn the jeeps ceiling off.

Sighing, he turned his vision back to the road, breathing in and out for a few seconds as he accelerated forward, twisting the wheel to the side as he switched lanes. Good, at least those didn't fuck up... unlike someone else he was thinking of right now.

"I'm gonna smack Askin upside the head when we deal with this mecha-dragon," he mumbled, turning himself to look at Brown before motioning his index finger to the now open door. "Brown... y'mind closin' that," Jonas spoke in an exasperated voice as he turned back to his usual position.

Brown reached out and slammed the door Askin had so carelessly left open when he threw himself from the car. Fingers still wrapped around the door handle Brown looked up at the Dragon thrashing around in the skies above with the snow women clinging to it's back like a giant, angry, snow born tick.

Once mosquito nips did as said, he began accelerating as he alternated between scanning the clearing and keeping an eye on the road. As Jonas began driving, he rapped his fingers a bit as he continued forward, speeding up as he ignored a few of the signs until reaching the turn off the freeway, leaving the forest out of the way...

As he drove, something popped into his head... he started alternating between looking at the side of the freeway and the road, humming a jazz tune as he began drawing up an idea. "You two may wanna hold on," he spoke coolly as the jeep began to decelerate, as well as slowly diverging off the side of the exit.

"Hold on to what? Why do I want to hold—"

"I'm about to test th' roll bar," he announced as he brazenly turned off the side of the road... and began skidding downhill in the somewhat open plains.

It was difficult to control as he was plagued with constant bumps on the mountainside, as well as obstacles that constantly threatened to damage the vehicle from time to time. Steering to avoid a capsized vehicle and other miscellaneous items, it was an agonizing thirty seconds of trying to avoid everything that got in the way before everyone in the truck received some sort of recoil upon successfully navigating the hillside. Jonas' head bobbed forward a bit in the process as he turned back to look at the other passengers.

"Y'two alright," he grunted, blinking a bit as the hood of the jeep was caked in a thin layer of snow.

"Yep! That was fun!" Brown threw the branch of an evergreen tree that and snapped off and fallen into her lap during Jonas's maneuvers. Pine bristles clung to her dirty hair like sprinkles on the world's most unappealing scoop of ice cream.

"Don't worry about me," Brenda stated.

Once they responded, Jonas lurched forward before bouncing into the back of his seat, mumbling "Peachy..."

Well... they seemed closer to the town, judging by how far away they were... give or take two minutes? "Anyways, I think I gotta' plan on how to handle that... thing," he leaned out the window and jammed an index finger at the jet powered, fire slinging target. Leaning back into the jeep, he began driving forward once more.

"Problem is, I kinda' need the albino smurf to be here," he grumbled, steering to avoid a pile of robots. Jonas looked over at Brenda for a split second before continuing. "Say Brenda, y'think you can make some large spears either out of rock or this stuff," Jonas quizzed, removing a hand from the wheel to point out the window at the wreckage's scattered throughout the landscape.

"I can do anything with stone," Brenda was quick to answer. "Just need to give me a minute to put together something that'll dent that."

A few dozen yards down the road, a motorcycle flew through the air, a screaming metal deathtrap. A person went flying up and away at impossible speeds before the cycle flew out of sight, Klara's lingering roar of VALHALLA filling in the empty space the vehicle and its occupants had just crossed.




"I will kick your ass so hard Askin I swear to God you'll tie my boots with your tongue!"

"I trust your judgment and accept whatever ass kicking or boot licking you feel appropriate," said Askin, untangling a few unkind branches from his hair. "But you have to admit—that was pretty sweet."

The woods quickly gave way to the outskirts of the town, the rooftops giving the driver a landing ramp. With a thud and some bouncing, they soon landed safely, speeding along a downhill road towards the center of town. Otsana's white knuckle grip loosened, her tail looking less like a pom-pom as she turned to glare at him.

"Is this the part where I tie your boots with my tongue?" said Askin. "Or should I wait until after we kill the dragon?" He still felt a little loopy, but was otherwise upbeat. In fact, now that the whooshing panic of the motorcycle jump was comfortably in the past, Askin had to admit, it was quite fun.

Otsana replied with a swift punch to the back of the head, prompting a soft little oof from Askin. "Yeah, that comes later," she said, shaking out her hand, "Im still using it." She swerved to avoid a stalled sauerkraut truck. "Not today..." she muttered.

"If you say so," Askin said politely. They wove through cobblestone streets choked with abandoned vehicles and dozens on dozens of shattered robot corpses. It was like watching someone thread a cinderblock through the eye of a needle. "A lot of work to harass a snowed-in Podunk in upstate Germany," Askin muttered. Podunk. An American word, apparently, unfamiliar on his lips but more than appropriate, Askin thought. "There must be more to this. You know, Otsana, I'm starting to think we're going to see much worse than a dragon before this is over."

"Mmm yeah not a lot of payoff. At least with the Rio attack you have the prize money to go after. This seems more like a test run than anything else." They passed a burning car. "Lets you work out the kinks before you attack a bigger city. And, since it sounds like they're hiding in the Alps, you've got a place to hide should things go wrong."

"A test run? That does make sense. I think this was the plot to The Incredibles, wasn't it? The final show these people must be planning..."

Smiling then, Askin chanced his luck with a gentle, friendly punch to Otsana's shoulder. Good thing we're here, huh?"

Otsana rolled her eyes as she pulled into an alleyway, off the main roads but close enough to the action. "Feh, they're just lucky they haven't brought in the Heer." She pulled out her phone, sending their location to Jonas via text. "Either way, time to get paid."
Damn Regs, this really took off. Nice job.


@glwgameplayer@lavulman@KaiserElectric

The wind here was gentle, and it seemed to have forgotten the bristling spite of the endless wastelands that had marked the rest of Tam's journey these last few days. It was a gradual shift, from cracked and jaded earth to leaves and grass and spring-ish gusts. He welcomes it. Maybe the worst of things had passed. Maybe.

His winter gear still stowed away, Tam was practically half-dressed in the brushy grassland. The cooling breeze felt nice on his bare chest, exposed by his torso-less undershirt, and he'd rolled up his pants to leave his lower legs free to push comfortably through the plantlife of the meadow.

The bridge he'd crossed was gone, but it didn't seem he'd ever want to go back to that awful sweaty broken waste, nor the panicked memories that had filled up his time there. But now here was something new. Other survivors.

One wasn't human, though he couldn't identify her race. The stranger had blue skin, the ears of a mer, and only barely reached Tam's waist. Despite her height, however, her hammer was solid and threatening, and it made Tam's own little hatchet feel somewhat inadequate.

One may also have not been human, all robes and hoods, and his pack seemed just as big as Tam's. Not the most trustworthy-looking, but Tam had been proved wrong on such things before.

Then, finally there was a woman in leather armor. Her hair was in a ponytail, and her eyes were the very set and serious eyes that Tam had grown used to seeing in soldiers and killers and one or two very determined merchants. Her clothes had a certain oddness to them that Tam couldn't place, and there was the strangest machine on her left arm, but she seemed the most familiar to him, and so she was the one he approached.

"Howdy," said Tam Fiernas, in her direction, but roughly to all the others too. He hiked over to them with a friendly wave. "Nice weather today."

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