Scarifar

Deep Ground Online (Hiatus)

<Snipped quote by Lord of Evil>

Someone please answer me, am I too dirty minded to have read this sentence and thought that Thomas was admiring something else about that dog?

@KoL

Yes you are. XD

I Died & Reincarnated Into- What Is Up With This World!?

Character dump

Belinda Romalty

Mamba

"Nicce to meet you." - Mamba

The Basics

Name

Belinda Romalty

Nicknames

None.

Code Name

Mamba

Age

27

Birthdate

July 7

Gender

Female

Sexuality

Straight

Role

Attacker / Spy

"Jusst doing my job."

Digging Deep

In-Depth Appearance

Belinda is 5' 5", quite short by many peoples' standard. She also has blonde hair, and has a lithe build. Belinda is not very picky about what she wears and tends to wear whatever she can find on hand. However, she does keep a hat on her, and is rarely seen without it, unless the time comes for work. Fortunately, Belinda is the type who tends to look good in just about anything. Her combat gear consists of a full body suit that covers most of her body, woven with a special lightweight material designed to be resistant to most weapons and thus very protective, though it was made more with maneuverability in mind rather than protection. In addition, she wears a hood that covers much of her head.

Habits and Quirks

• Tends to draw out the "s" syllable a bit when she speaks.
• Always starts off friendly and informal in any conversation.
• Occasionally spouts random bits of science trivia.
• Gets sleepy in cold environments, but very active in hot ones.
• Tries to startle people when they are caught unaware of her presence.

Likes

• Snakes.
• Science trivia.
• Friendly conversations.
• Smiles.
• Exciting events.

Dislikes

• Lies.
• Being told what to do.
• Boredom.
• Idiots.
• Scientific inaccuracies.

Fears

• The unknown elements of her body.
• Losing her lab equipment.
• Never finding the one who killed her mother.

Personality

Belinda is normally quite carefree and lively. She's willing to start up a conversation with anyone with just about anything. Some might say that she's a bit of an airhead. However, if one interacts with her further, they would realize that there would be more than at first impression. There's not much that fazes her, not even topics such as death or sexual congress. In the field, Belinda tends to act on her own, often not listening to others. This is because that, despite her cheerful personality, she tries to keep some distance from others, preventing her from getting too close.

Origins

Background

Belinda was once a spoiled girl named Shirley. She had everything she could have ever wished for, courtesy of her father. She had the latest in technological gadgets, fashionable clothes, even maids. Shirley had a life of luxury. One day, though, that all changed when she was kidnapped for ransom. Shirley was sure that she would eventually be saved, but it turned out that her father had only been spoiling her to keep her off his case with constant nagging, and was glad that she was gone. The kidnappers, with no further use for her, tossed Shirley aside to their higher ups, where they had a backup plan ready in case of a scenario like that. Over the course of a few years, Shirley's body and mind was experimented on and extensively altered, granting her superhuman abilities as well as making her forget her previous life and dulling certain emotions. In short, Shirley ceased to exist, becoming an assassin for their corporation, and a damn good one at that. She was sent on missions during the war, killing her targets and allowing their goals to move along unhindered.

However, it was only another few years after she was released that the corporation was brought down and just about every other person within it arrested, leaving her without a purpose in life. She began to wander, killing bounty hunters and other assassins that tried to take her life. One day, Belinda came across someone she recognized as a member of the organization she used to work for, though she could not recall exactly how she knew that. Regardless, Belinda made her move, following her back to her home, then revealing herself to her. The person in question turned out to be Belinda's mother, a scientist who had tried to rescue Belinda back when she was still Shirley, but was quickly chased away, having barely escaped with her life. Together they lived for a number of years, and Belinda worked with her mother to help her recover her lost emotions as well as understand her body's capabilities. Slowly, but surely, it was working, and Belinda could feel herself becoming less of an assassin and more of a human. Belinda felt as if she was going to have a purpose again, and one where she no longer needed to depend on someone else for it. Unfortunately, she was right.

Belinda was out one day, but when she returned home, she found that the place had been ransacked, and her mother was near death. Rushing over to her, Belinda asked what had happened. Her mother only uttered one word before her life faded. "Sentinel..." Seeing that the Sentinels had already been disbanded, Belinda could only come to the conclusion that an ex-Sentinel was the cause. So, she dedicated her life to finding the one who had killed her mother, as well as continuing her research and offering her skills to high-paying clients. Years passed, and Belinda still had no leads. However, there came the announcement for new Sentinels to rise. Seeing an opportunity, Belinda seized the change to join the Sentinels, determined to find the killer.

Place of Origin

Toronto, Canada

Family

Joshua Romalty - Father. Once owner of a large corporation. Assassinated by Belinda.
Rosario Romalty - Mother. Once worked as a scientist. Killed by an unknown assailant.

Abilities

- Sidewinders: A pair of knives. Both weapons have the ability to fire their blades towards the direction they're pointing, as well as retractable wires to keep them attached to their hilts.
- Hyperagility (Passive): Due to her body's structure and her equipment, Belinda is able to climb up and stick to walls and other surfaces, as well as survive falls from moderate heights unscathed when they would greatly injure normal people.
- Camouflage (Passive): Belinda's suit is able to mimic the color and pattern of her surroundings, allowing her to blend in with her surroundings as long as she stays still.
- Overdrive (Ultimate): By taking a certain pill, Belinda can forcibly enhance her body's senses for a certain period of time. She reacts quicker to attacks and is able to more accurately deliver her strikes to various weak points, but also takes more damage. In addition, once it wears off, she becomes slower and weaker for a long period of time due to the toll it takes on her body.

Weapons

- Sidewinders: The blades are 6 inches long, straight, double-edged, and are made of a powerful and durable metal alloy. The blades are decorated with a wavy line on both sides that extends along the entire blade. Both weapons have the ability to fire their blades towards the direction they're pointing due to a gas-propelling mechanism, as well as retractable wires to keep them attached to their hilts.

Extra

Fav. character is still Bastion.

Heroes Rise - An Overwatch Inspired RP

Just wondering, are any of our characters not actually going to be part of the new Sentinels?

Heroes Rise - An Overwatch Inspired RP

Christopher Mozrick

Christopher Mozrick

Sergeant

---

"Breach and clear."

---

The Basics

Name

Christopher Mozrick

Nicknames

Soldier Boy.

Code Name

Sergeant

Age

28

Birthdate

July 5

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Asexual

Role

Offense

Digging Deep

In-Depth Appearance

Christopher stands at 6' 2" and has brown hair and grey eyes. He prefers wearing a uniform of a long-sleeved black logoless shirt as well as long pants and gloves, which acts both as body armor thanks to the properties of the cloth as well as his usual set of clothing. This attire allows him to be prepared for combat at all times as well as not standing out too much among the general public. In a proper battle, though, or whenever he is at work, he dons additional armor, though mainly just a vest and arm and leg pads in order to maintain his speed while staying protected. Underneath his long clothing, however, are cybernetic limbs that have replaced both his legs.

Habits and Quirks

• Always appears to be calm and serious.
• Never turns down a challenge, even if they are jokes.
• Tends to treat Mechs better than people.
• Often seen holding a weapon of some sort.
• If he's not holding a weapon, then he's usually working out.

Likes

• Silence.
• A job well done.
• A challenge.
• Staying active.
• Equipment maintenance.

Dislikes

• Laziness.
• Failure.
• Drugs and alcohol.
• Distractions.
• Overly cheerful people.

Fears

• Getting complacent.
• Failing on the job.

Personality

Christopher is a soldier through and through. He believes orders are absolute and will do his best to follow through each one to the letter. He does not take kindly to foolishness, and takes all matters seriously. He understands the concepts of things like jokes and banter, but prefers not to engage in such acts himself. He does try to establish somewhat friendly relations with others, but he will not even try to tolerate them if they do not at least succeed at their jobs. Funnily enough, Christopher always accepts a challenge, regardless of what it is or if it was merely a joke, and refuses to back down until he has won.

Origins

Background

Christopher was born in a poor neighborhood with his father who was an ex-soldier who was dishonorably discharged from the army. Every day had been a struggle to survive, barely able to make ends meet as he constantly sought for jobs. Once he turned 18, though, he immediately signed up for the Army, where he put all of his effort into it. His work paid off, and he was soon one of the Paladin Coalition. During one mission, though, Christopher was caught in an firefight that resulted in his legs getting blown off by a stray grenade while he was caught off guard. His legs were replaced, and it was 2 months before he was cleared for combat again, during which he swore he wouldn't make such a mistake again. Back on the battlefield, he proved to be even more of a threat to the Emperors Entente as he cleared mission after mission. Despite his successes, though, he was only one man, and even he was hard pressed in his missions, sometimes failing despite his best efforts.

It was then that the Sentinel Program was created, and Christopher was one of the first few choices for it. Working together with his comrades, they succeeded when most people failed, and soon the war was over. Of course, because it was now peacetime, Christopher was now out of a job. Even when he tried to go back to the Army, he was dismissed, leaving Christopher to find a new job. Fortunately, he was able to receive a rather high-paying job offer as a personal bodyguard for an influential Mech who had heard of the feats of the Sentinel Program and was keen to get his hands on a ex-Sentinel. With no other alternative, he accepted. A small number of incidents occurred during Christopher's employment, but Christopher was able to protect his VIP. Along the way, Christopher and the Mech developed a friendship of sorts, being able to understand each others' feelings easily.

One day, Christopher received a message about the Sentinel Program being reenacted. Of course, his initial response was to decline. He had a new job now, after all, and he was going to see it through. The Mech, however, urged Christopher to join the Sentinel Program once more. He and Christopher argued over the issue, and in the end, Christopher was "fired". The two said their farewells, and Christopher set off for the UN, returning to a job he once thought was gone forever.

Place of Origin

Los Angeles, California

Family

Samuel Mozrick: Father. Once worked as a janitor. Current whereabouts unknown.

Abilities

-Pulse Rifle: A rifle with a decent fire rate and high damage. Has a scope for more accurate shooting. Quick to reload as well.
-Sprint: Christopher dashes quickly, allowing him to reach his destination in a short period of time. He cannot use other abilities while sprinting.
-Flash: Christopher lobs a flashbang that will explode after a short time. Those caught in the explosion radius will be deafened for several seconds, while those that were looking at the grenade at the time of explosion will be blinded for several seconds.
-Vision (Passive): Christopher dons a pair of dark glasses (like sunglasses, but better) that prevents him from getting affected from the visual impairment of his flashbangs.
-Adrenaline (Ultimate): Christopher's perspective of time slows down for 6 seconds, allowing him to be quicker to react to certain events, among other things.

Weapons

-Pulse Rifle: Holds a 30-round magazine and deals decent damage at short and mid range. More difficult to hit things at long range, however.

Extra

My fav. Overwatch character is Bastion.

Belinda Romalty

Belinda Romalty

Mamba

"Nicce to meet you." - Mamba

The Basics

Name

Belinda Romalty

Nicknames

None.

Code Name

Mamba

Age

27

Birthdate

July 7

Gender

Female

Sexuality

Straight

Role

Attacker / Spy

"Jusst doing my job."

Digging Deep

In-Depth Appearance

Belinda is 5' 5", quite short by many peoples' standard. She also has blonde hair, and has a lithe build. Belinda is not very picky about what she wears and tends to wear whatever she can find on hand. However, she does keep a hat on her, and is rarely seen without it, unless the time comes for work. Fortunately, Belinda is the type who tends to look good in just about anything. Her combat gear consists of a full body suit that covers most of her body, woven with a special lightweight material designed to be resistant to most weapons and thus very protective, though it was made more with maneuverability in mind rather than protection. In addition, she wears a hood that covers much of her head.

Habits and Quirks

• Tends to draw out the "s" syllable a bit when she speaks.
• Always starts off friendly and informal in any conversation.
• Occasionally spouts random bits of science trivia.
• Gets sleepy in cold environments, but very active in hot ones.
• Tries to startle people when they are caught unaware of her presence.

Likes

• Snakes.
• Science trivia.
• Friendly conversations.
• Smiles.
• Exciting events.

Dislikes

• Lies.
• Being told what to do.
• Boredom.
• Idiots.
• Scientific inaccuracies.

Fears

• The unknown elements of her body.
• Losing her lab equipment.
• Never finding the one who killed her mother.

Personality

Belinda is normally quite carefree and lively. She's willing to start up a conversation with anyone with just about anything. Some might say that she's a bit of an airhead. However, if one interacts with her further, they would realize that there would be more than at first impression. There's not much that fazes her, not even topics such as death or sexual congress. In the field, Belinda tends to act on her own, often not listening to others. This is because that, despite her cheerful personality, she tries to keep some distance from others, preventing her from getting too close.

Origins

Background

Belinda was once a spoiled girl named Shirley. She had everything she could have ever wished for, courtesy of her father. She had the latest in technological gadgets, fashionable clothes, even maids. Shirley had a life of luxury. One day, though, that all changed when she was kidnapped for ransom. Shirley was sure that she would eventually be saved, but it turned out that the negotiator sent to pay the ransom was murdered immediately upon arrival, and the money was kept. The kidnappers, with no further use for her, tossed Shirley aside to their higher ups, where they set the next part of the plan in motion. Over the course of a few years, Shirley's body and mind was experimented on and extensively altered, granting her superhuman abilities as well as making her forget her previous life and dulling certain emotions. In short, Shirley ceased to exist, becoming an assassin for their corporation, and a damn good one at that. She was sent on missions soon after the war, killing her targets and allowing their goals to move along unhindered.

However, it was only another few years after she was released that the corporation was brought down and just about every other person within it arrested, leaving her without a purpose in life. She began to wander, killing bounty hunters and other assassins that tried to take her life. One day, Belinda came across someone she recognized as a member of the organization she used to work for, though she could not recall exactly how she knew that. Regardless, Belinda made her move, following her back to her home, then revealing herself to her. The person in question turned out to be Belinda's mother, a scientist who had tried to rescue Belinda back when she was still Shirley, but was quickly chased away, having barely escaped with her life. Together they lived for a number of years, and Belinda worked with her mother to help her recover her lost emotions as well as understand her body's capabilities. Slowly, but surely, it was working, and Belinda could feel herself becoming less of an assassin and more of a human. Belinda felt as if she was going to have a purpose again, and one where she no longer needed to depend on someone else for it. Unfortunately, she was right.

Belinda was out one day, but when she returned home, she found that the place had been ransacked, and her mother was near death. Rushing over to her, Belinda asked what had happened. Her mother only uttered one word before her life faded. "Sentinel..." Seeing that the Sentinels had already been disbanded, Belinda could only come to the conclusion that an ex-Sentinel was the cause. So, she dedicated her life to finding the one who had killed her mother, as well as continuing her research and offering her skills to high-paying clients. Years passed, and Belinda still had no leads. However, there came the announcement for new Sentinels to rise. Seeing an opportunity, Belinda seized the change to join the Sentinels, determined to find the killer.

Place of Origin

Toronto, Canada

Family

Joshua Romalty - Father. Once owner of a large corporation. Assassinated by Belinda herself.
Rosario Romalty - Mother. Once worked as a scientist. Killed by an unknown assailant.

Abilities

- Sidewinders: A pair of knives. Both weapons have the ability to fire their blades towards the direction they're pointing, as well as retractable wires to keep them attached to their hilts.
- Hyperagility (Passive): Due to her body's structure and her equipment, Belinda is able to climb up and stick to walls and other surfaces, as well as survive falls from moderate heights unscathed when they would greatly injure normal people.
- Camouflage (Passive): Belinda's suit is able to mimic the color and pattern of her surroundings, allowing her to blend in with her surroundings as long as she stays still.
- Overdrive (Ultimate): By taking a certain pill, Belinda can forcibly enhance her body's senses for a certain period of time. She reacts quicker to attacks and is able to more accurately deliver her strikes to various weak points, but also takes more damage. In addition, once it wears off, she becomes slower and weaker for a long period of time due to the toll it takes on her body.

Weapons

- Sidewinders: The blades are 6 inches long, straight, double-edged, and are made of a powerful and durable metal alloy. The blades are decorated with a wavy line on both sides that extends along the entire blade. Both weapons have the ability to fire their blades towards the direction they're pointing due to a gas-propelling mechanism, as well as retractable wires to keep them attached to their hilts.

Extra

Fav. character is still Bastion.

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

And The Heavens Were Opened

Grot, Champion of Chaos; Commander Falas; Lifprasil, the First-Born; Belvast, the Demi-Cat; Bez, a troll; Tira, Dancer, and Flux, the Sculptors
Foothills of the Nice Mountains
Written by @Rtron, @Scarifar, @Poog the Pig, [@The Irish Dude], @Antarctic Termite

*Boom*

*Boom*

*Boom*

Grot's footsteps could be heard from miles away, even as he was only barely visible on the horizon. His long strides were eating up the miles, and he was hurrying, now that their target was finally within sight. Any scouts would hear the hordes on his back growing more and more excited, preparing for the upcoming fight. They had Vestec's blessing, they had his gifts, and they were ready for their war. Soon, the tension in the air promised. Soon blood would spill and bodies would fall.

A number of Angels flew over to Falas and the Archangels, reporting what they had seen when they were scouting. A massive monstrosity approaching the Nice Mountains, with a sizable horde of monsters on its back. Naturally, Falas was worried. The main event was finally approaching, and there were far too many variables to consider. The nearby Hain villages had been evacuated, so at least there was that.

Archangel Raphael asked Falas, "Are we sure the Nice Mountains can't stop them? The aura-"

He was interrupted by Falas with a raised hand, who then said, "We've been over this. The chances of that happening are small. If our enemy was smart, they wouldn't come here blindly. Even if they aren't, I'm not allowing them to approach our home without a fight." Gripping her lance tightly, Falas looked towards the horizon, where Grot was finally becoming visible. "Ready our forces," Falas commanded the Archangels. "The battle is going to begin." The four Archangels flew off, ordering other nearby Angels and gathering various Wisps.

In a shaded place where once a stream had flowed from the top of the plateau and cut a steep valley as it descended, a cloud of patterned brown specks lazed above three figures, casting an even deeper darkness. Within it a recently fifteen-year-old girl squared her feet and grasped a weighted quarterstaff all the more firmly. Her pose didn't match her age, but somehow her grin did.

Tira raised a deep brown wrist and whirled a quick set of Urtelem-words to her two companions. The time for speaking out loud was over. The tall, three-folded humanoid who had recently been named Dancer signed back delicately- They had keen hands. Each of the upper three gripped a long faery-spiked club, the wood weighted with loose stones that clacked melodically, and the lower trio's talons had been sharpened. Their name was Fencer, now.

Flux only waited, a swill of half-formed limbs and faces ribboned in oily black. He didn't talk much, even in sign. That didn't matter. He worked as if he owed the whole world a debt. Tira glanced back up to the shading cover of thousands of moth fae, looked further on to where the shapes of Fencer's stone army had curled into the mountains. Felt the weight of reinforced leather on her back. The distant feet pounded on and soon she would see the destroyer-god she'd dreamed of. Soon.

Once the Angels and Wisps were gathered, Falas announced, "We will not let that monster invade the Valley of Peace! We fight to protect our home! TO BATTLE!" As Falas lifted her lance in the air, The Angels responded as one, "TO BATTLE!" as they raised their fists in unison.

"Charge!" Falas commanded as she flew off towards Grot. The Angels and Wisps followed, the Angel army beginning the assault on Grot.

For a moment it seemed like the Horde of chaos wasn't going to do anything as the army of Angels and Wisps charged at them. Grot kept walking and the various creatures on his back kept chanting and preparing for a fight. However, as soon as the Angels were close enough to begin their own attack, everything changed.

Stone spears and spears of razor sharp ice flew up to meet the various flying creatures attacking. The Urtelem, useless here unless the Angels flew to close, quickly dropped off of Grot's back to fight on the ground where they could launch rocks or at least be more out of the way. Air currents were suddenly violently shifting in an attempt to keep the Angels from flying properly. Grot opened up his mouth and let out a roar, a massive stream of flame pouring out of his mouth as he turned his head side to side, incinerating anything unfortunate enough to be caught in its bath.

"Ahaha! Got you, you holy bastard!" Bez cackled with glee as his stone spear managed to take an Angel in the side, sending it crashing to the ground. He grabbed another one, from a fallen Troll, and looked for another target. The battle had begun, and he couldn't be happier.

And as the hefty plains-rock bodies of Grot's stonemen started to thud into the cushioning earth in a surge of grass and dirt, Fencer threw themself out of the narrow valley. For a moment they were almost flying like the angels far, far above, silhouetted by the demon-fire, arms wide.

Then their tremendous jump ended and as they hit the ground the hills came alive and roared with the voice of tumbling stone as six score of Urtelem shrugged off the mountain rock and stormed forward at their once-cousins, shadowed under a wide and thinning veil of fae. Tira yelled a wordless cry that turned into a monosyllabic chant for more speed as she vaulted herself onto the back of the largest matriarch with her quarterstaff and was carried into the advance.

Whether disorientated by the long drop from Grot or simply not expecting to be fought from anywhere but above, the outnumbered Urtelem of Chaos were not in formation by the time Fencer's charge struck like a wedge. They had never been implanted with language from Teknall or logic from Jvan, but the Sculptor-led band had both, and fought in sleek units, pummelling fist against fist and shoulders against shoulders. The sound was tremendous.

Tira did not fear the corrupted stonemen and their brutal din of crashing rock for a moment. She had spent months in their families, and she was quick, martially quick. Neither she nor Fencer could do anything to harm them, but they had known that from the start, and so Tira did not stop sprinting the moment her booted feet hit the ground and followed Fencer's spinning gait, leaving Flux to hold the majority of the faery shield.

Their targets were further in, still on Grot's back.

When the horde's counterattack began, Falas commanded the Angels, "Defend yourselves!" as she raised her buckler in front of her, where the spears bounced off and/or shattered harmlessly against the transparent blue barrier the buckler produced. Other Angels set up barriers of their own or attempted to dodge the various projectiles, but not all of them escaped unharmed,as many were struck and fell, various Angels and Wisps falling after them to try to save them before it was too late.

The wind suddenly turned violent as well, forcing the Angels to lose stability in the air. Nevertheless, the Angels continued their attack, firing their own beams, rays, and bolts of holy energy at Grot and the horde. Multiple Wisps flew over to the Horde, staying above the goblins, azibo, tedar, and trolls as they fired their own bolts of Holy energy at various targets and attempted to shield themselves with their own barriers.

Falas prepared to take on Grot himself, readying her lance for an attack. However, Grot had begun attacking first, discharging a wave of flame and incinerating Angels and Wisps that had strayed too close and could not escape before their barriers failed. Devastated by the loss, Falas pointed her lance at Grot's head and fired a powerful concentrated beam of Holy energy, intending to kill the beast for killing her Angels.

Grot let out an irritated bellow as the beam of holy energy crashed into his thick bone plate. The rest of his body seemed to ripple and shift, as more and more bone flowed to where the beam was drilling into his skull. It finally reached skin, causing genuine pain to the behemoth. He let out an angry roar, spewing a more direct line of flames towards the source of his pain.

As the beam finally ended, Grot looked down to see the Urtelem fighting for Vestec being attacked by many more well organized Urtelem. With a gesture, the ground opened up beneath many of them before slamming shut in an instant, pulverising to dust any unfortunate soul not fast enough to get out.

When he looked up, the damage done to his skull was completely gone, and his shoulder was bloating and writhing, colored a foul black. The chaos Horde on that shoulder ran, heedless of the Angels and Wisps above them. In a shower of disgusting black liquid, Grot's shoulder exploded, long spidery limbs shooting out to grab whatever was within reach, shattering through barriers to get to the victims beneath, be they Azibo or Angel. A screeching sound could be heard, incredibly painful to the ears, before all the limbs returned into Grot's body and the wound sealed up.

Bez, on the other shoulder, could only look on in slight revulsion as Angels, Humans, and Rovaick where pulled into the wound, or had their skin melted to the bone by the burning black liquid.

And still Grot moved onwards towards the Nice Mountains, step by step.

The earth rocked as he moved and the dusty, mixed mess of Urtelem below only added to the noise and shudder. It was only a small blessing that his magic was blunt and brutal and had crushed some of the chaotic stonemen along with their foes. Flux was too slippery to catch, a flowing black monolith, but his stonemen were no elementals and their magic had not saved them. He stood over those who had lost legs and fists and moaned the sound of the dying.

It confirmed a grim suspicion. Grot held the earth as well as the fire, and against the solid magics, fae were no protection. The matriarch knew this. Rising from the bodies of the wounded, she gave Flux a familiarly grim salute from the vanguard: It was time to die.

Beating her chest to summon the survivors, the elder curled and put a burst of speed into her roll, racing to catch up with Tira, closing the gap on Grot himself, into the mouth of hell, and the herds followed, abandoning what remained of their fight. In a moment before impact she seized the Sculptor-Initiate and tossed her up onto the demon's ankle where Fencer was already climbing. Then the suicide charge vanished beneath the ball of Grot's foot as he took his next step, as screaming black acid spattered from his opposite shoulder, and quaked, burrowed, broke the earth he stood on- Anything to slow down his stride.

Flux stood back, not a drop of fear in his blood. To the skies, then- To the forces in heaven! Together we may yet show this monster how to fight fair!

The flanged ribbons of oily water around him unfurled and splayed wide, and on six smooth wings the Sculptor rose, laboriously but surely, and the faery veil clumped around him like an upwards rain of winged tops.

He was forced to retreat as he moved to keep ahead of Grot, but Flux had no intention to play offensively. Shrouded by the swarm, he carried the little creatures up into the rear of the angelic army and spread them into a loose sphere, maybe enough to hold forty or fifty angels. Within their boundaries, the savage turbulence stilled, and the embers they carried dimmed. It was safe- At least from air and fire. Spears and the great demon fists of Grot were another matter entirely, but for now, Flux held the fae out of reach.

"Come, yon angels who have scattered! Shelter to me and unite!" It was rare for him to use his proud Elemental voice, but it had not lost its volume, and he used it to signal to those angels who had been forced to break formation by Grot's spidery growths and the Rovaick projectiles. "The fae are ours- I can direct the shield!"

Falas put in a great deal of energy into the attack, but she could tell that it was barely having an effect on Grot. Regardless, she continued the blast until she had to retreat from a blast of fire. Unfortuantely, it seemed like the attack only irritated Grot more than it did wound him. The sudden growth protruding from Grot's shoulder continued to take more Angels' lives, penetrating through barriers to get to them as well. In the end, Falas' efforts seemed like they were wasted.

Admist all the chaos, though, there came a spark of hope. A small variety of other creatures had appeared to fight against Grot, doing what they could against the large beast. At first, the majority of the Angels were still for a second, staring at the Elemental that had announced its presence, but then they began to cheer, and multiple Angels moved to aid Flux, adding their own barriers to bolster their defense.

Seeing the Urtelem's efforts, Falas had an idea. She was unsure if it would work, but it was one worth trying. Falas shouted to some nearby Angels, "Aim for the legs!", then proceeded to fire another beam at Grot's left leg. The order was passed on to other Angels, who also proceeded to continue passing it on and provide their support in the attack. The Attacker and Barrier Wisps, which had now regrouped again and were being led by Archangel Michael, would continue keeping the horde on Grot's body busy, still firing at the various creatures while keeping themselves protected.

The systematic passage of command from Falas to her generals and out to the rest of the horde soon enough reached Flux, and he signalled his direction before twirling graciously into the dive. Gliding downwards he could match speed with the angels, sheltering those he could. A noble plan, and Flux followed with strong laughter.

Grot spewed more flames as Flux and his horde of Fae rose. However, their natural shielding and the barriers of the Angels proved too much for the giant's flames. He crushed some of the Urtelem beneath his foot, and the others managed to burrow away quickly. He bellowed again as pain erupted in his shin as Falas and the other Angels attacked his legs.

Grot responded by shooting up two giant hands of earth and smashing them together, hopefully with Angels and Needle Fae between them.

Grot's body visibly rippled as something moved beneath his skin, going to repair the slight damages done by the Angels and the major damage done by Falas' beam of holy energy. The skin of his shin writhed that foul black color again, before bursting open once more with a terrible screeching noise as the spindly limbs launched forward again, grabbing anything they could.

Urtelem, Fae, Angel. They grabbed everything. Even Sculptors.

Tira could see a mantis-like streak lashing out at her, faster than human reflex; And then Fencer was leaping down, snatching the limb between their airborne talons, rending in twain the strangler meant for her. Dragging its stump with them as they fell. There was a jerk, far below, as the torn limb reached the end of its length, and still Fencer hung on. For a moment they dangled from the spidery limb like a monkey on a vine, but the acid it bled was too fierce for their arms, and, as Tira cried out from above, they met her eyes. And let go.

In the Nice Mountains themselves...

Vestec appeared in the holy mountains of Niciel, shivering a bit at the aura of niceness he felt. "Nicieeeel! You're missing your fight!"

Niciel turned her head towards Vestec, looking at him disapprovingly. "First of all, I haven't missed a moment," Niciel said, raising her Orb of Escry. "I've been keeping watch of my children this entire time." Then, putting her Orb out of the way of Vestec, Niciel continued, "Second of all, what are you doing here? I'm sure you're very busy with your... shenanigans with the others."

"Nope! Everyone else is busy and entertaining themselves with all my hordes!" Vestec giggled, floating around Niciel. "I'm curious to know how your talk with Toun went! Did he attack you? Were you too 'imperfect' in his eyes? What happened?"

Niciel began emitting an aura of disapproval in addition to her stare. "If you are smart, you will not speak of it again," Niciel said sternly. "Is that clear?"

"Oooh, it didn't go well, did it? Let me guess. He babbled something insane that you didn't do, made some comments about you being imperfect, and either kicked you out or attacked you." Vestec kept circling around Niciel, clearly entertained by the conversation. His colors flashed excitedly as he waited for Niciel to respond.

Bringing out her Orb of Holy and Escry, Niciel fired a bolt of Pure energy at Vestec while summoning Wisps to aid her. "I thought I told you not to speak of it again. Unless you have other business here, I suggest you leave while I am still merciful," Niciel said, not taking any more of Vestec's crap. "Don't forget that you are in the Nice Mountains right now. You are not as strong here as you are elsewhere."

Vestec giggled, teleporting out of the way of the attack and reappearing. "Niciel, I get the feeling you're blaming me for something! All I did was alert you to the fact that Toun killed your children, and this is how you repay me? I am hurt. I tell you of a wrong done to you, and you attack me. That doesn't strike me as very holy or nice."

Niciel was getting more and more irritated. Unfortunately, despite her threats, there wasn't much Niciel could do against Vestec at the moment. She had spent a lot of power preparing a gift for Slough, leaving her with very little left. She was left with one final resort. Forcing herself to become calm, Niciel responded, "You're right. I apologize, Vestec. You were trying to help, and I ended up making a bigger mess of the event than I had intended to." As the Wisps dispersed, Niciel continued, "Even now, you are trying to display your goodwill by helping me confront my mistakes rather than ignoring them. Not many others are willing to do that." With a smile, Niciel finally said, "For that, you have my thanks."

Vestec paused for a moment, caught off guard, before he resumed his circling. "You're a very good actor, sister, I could almost believe you meant every word." He paused in front of the Goddess of Light, hanging upside down to meet her at eye level. "So. What happened?"

Niciel sighed before responding, "Long story short, I said some things I now regret, and Toun hates me quite a bit." Niciel then tilted her head sideways sightly and gingerly placed her thumb and forefinger on her chin before saying quzzingly, "Now that I think about it, though, Toun mentioned something about my children initiating the attack on his Hain, and there were certainly some memories remaining that corrobrated his words. I know I didn't order my children to do such a thing, so we should hear your side of the story, Vestec."

Vestec flipped around to look at her properly. "Really..." He mused. "He'd go that far..." Shaking himself, he concentrated on responding. "Niciel, recall what you know of Toun and his history. He's always been obsessed with perfection, to the point of insanity. He attacked Jvan, because he took objection to her additions to the Codex. She permanently scarred him, and no one took his side but Logos, who was busy fighting off Zephy, Astarte, and myself. You should remember it, you flooded the darkness with Light and got very cross with all of us." Vestec giggled.

"So, we know he's about as insane as I am, especially when it comes to perfection. But he isn't stupid. Very few of us like Jvan, but most of the others like you. His main 'ally' Logos is gone. No one knows where he is. He was appalled by your creations. So free willed, so uncontrollable. Nothing like the Hains he has." The God of Chaos paused, his colors flashing in a slow, pondering manner. "I wonder...did they become that willingly? A question and retribution for another time. I'm getting off track. Back to my point. He was appalled by your creations and had them killed."

"Now he's the aggressor, again, only this time he's alone, and he's attacked one most of us would side with against him. Not me, of course, because if Toun got immediately smashed in any brawl you two caused, it'd be boring. But he wouldn't trust me so I'd likely just be flying about breaking everyone's things. So, to get allies for himself, he has to come up with an exucse. What's the perfect excuse in situations like these? Ding ding ding! Self-defense! Put some memories in the dying Angels minds, and suddenly he's the victim, and you're the crusader."

Vestec shrugged. "At least, that's the most logical explanation as far as I can tell. Astarte and Zephyrion don't care for war as much as I do. The rest of the Gods aren't that crazy. I might have done such a thing, except too much conflict and conflict becomes normal and then I'd have to go about starting peace and do you know how terribly boring of a job that'd be?"

Niciel listened to every word Vestec had to say about the matter, nodding her head occasionally. Many things Vestec said did make sense, but there were still some holes that were yet to be filled. "Hmm... I understand. Too much chaos would mean that it is no longer chaos. A sound argument," Niciel said. "I believe you are mistaken about a few things, though, Vestec. I have spent some time with Toun in the past, and from what I've learned about him, he's not the type to go destroying others' creations for as small a reason as 'I don't like it', least of all mine. He may desire perfection, but not to that level of madness. He certainly has little motive to kill my Angels."

Vestec tilted his head curiously. "Really? He's created an entire race designed to destroy anything that doesn't have the touch of Slough in it. Last I checked, your Angels don't have any Slough in them at all. He recognizes Slough as a necessity. Without her, there would be no life for his creations. No food, water, shelter, so on so forth. However, the Rovaick, my creations that are separate from me, your Angels, and anything else that doesn't have the touch of Slough is often just slaughtered by his White Giants. He's not the type? He created a race based on that type. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps this is a large misunderstanding where he thought your Angels were my Angels invading, and killed them, and now has to save face. I somehow doubt it though, given his reaction to you."

"Yes, about 'your Angels'..." Niciel interrupted, no longer in the mood for jokes or lies. "I do seem to recall some of my children going missing, and my Wisps have shown me on a number of occasions what appears to be corrupted Angels causing mayhem and destruction wherever they go. I believe I recognize this as the handiwork of a certain chaotic god who would do such a thing, wouldn't you agree, Vestec?"

"Of course!" Vestec was positively chipper. "It's what I do! I've done it to the Hain, the Herakati, the Tree-Minds, the Rovaick, the Angels, the Urtelem, the White Giants, everything! I even tried it with the Wisps, but you fixed that quickly. It's my nature, Sister. Just as much as it is your nature to heal."

Niciel sighed in disappointment before saying, "AsVestec, I believe I have learned enough about you to determine what you are," Niciel said. "You are a child. You toy with the powers at your disposal without regard for the consequences of your actions. Everything you do is merely for your own amusement. The various members of the species of life on this world that you've corrupted are enough proof for me to see that, and don't think I haven't noticed your efforts to have Toun and me fighting each other. I intend to fix your behavior, and I will make you a good person. A God of Chaos you may be, but there is surely some good even in you, and I intend to make you see that, whether you like it or not."

Vestec giggled in full amusement. "Me? Good? You have mistaken me for someone else. Perhaps Kyre. Or Vulamera. Astarte? Zephyrion."

Niciel gave a gentle smile to Vestec. "Vestec, you may not be aware of this, but one of my powers is to be able to sense Purity. In this case, it is to detect the goodness within peoples' souls, yours included. Small as that attribute is within you, it is there nonetheless."

"The purity of my Chaos? My, that is a rather indifferent sense of yours. I have no goodness, dear sister. I am Chaos, cause of death, ruin, and damnation. Hundreds have died and hundreds of thousands of more will die, because it is my nature. The mortals and Gods are but tools for entertainment, and I am quite good at arranging them for proper entertaining purposes." He looked across at the battle still raging. "Speaking of...I think the Horde needs a Hero more of their size..."

Vestec snapped his fingers, seeming to mutter under his breath. "There! Now that should make things more even... where were we, oh yes! I was telling you about how much pain and suffering I'm going to cause. Lots of it, dear sister. Lots."

"I have no doubt you intend to do that, Vestec," Niciel said. "It is as you say: it is your nature. However, I intend to keep my word. I will do everything in my power to make you see the error of your ways. I do not intend to stop you from causing chaos entirely, but I do intend to make sure you know when and where to use it, in ways that benefit others more than it does create detriments."

On the field of battle.

There was definitely some damage being done, but it didn't seem to be enough to make a difference. A pair of walls of earth had shot up without warning and many Angels that had flown too low were crushed between them, the fae swarm ineffective, Flux forced to veer aside to preserve as many as he could. Once again, the bubbling skin had appeared, and the odd limbs had shot out of it. This time, though, the Angels were not caught off guard like last time and there were fewer casualties from the event.

From the attacks the Angels had launched on Grot, though, Falas was learning more and more about Grot's body and what it could do. A new idea formed in her mind, and Falas briefly wondered if it would have more of an effect than the last two attacks.

Archangel Gabriel had flown over to Falas, slightly panicking, saying, "Commander, this monster isn't stopping, and our attacks aren't doing anything to it. How are we supposed to defeat it?" Falas responded by tapping his face with her buckler and replied, "Don't lose hope now. We will stop it from reaching the Valley of Peace. As for our attacks, they are having an effect, and I might have figured out how to make the damage more permanent. For now, keep focusing on his legs." Gabriel was unconvinced, but decided to trust the commander and flew back to the others to continue to assault. As the Angels continued firing, Falas flew closer to Grot and readied her lance, but waited for her target to appear before she would attack. It would be a risky move, but if it worked, then it would be very rewarding. Many Wisps flew over to Falas as well, as if sensing her intentions.

From the horizon of the barren flatlands that far surpassed the sight of the Horde - a voice reached Grot's mind.

"Is my existence of consequence to you?" was the question that was instilled in the massive beast's mind. The question was followed up by a report of thunderous applause as the sound barrier was broken, and a truly massive shape soared overhead, flying even faster than the angels that filled the skies; banking past them like a truly divine creation would.

The shockwave of such antics sent anybody, on ground or on sky, reeling as the atmosphere was displaced. Many were the ears knocked into a stunned ringing by the concussive sound. Among them were Tira's own, and she was forced to hug closely, gasping, to the back of Grot to maintain her grip. In the suddenness, the Sculptor alone heard something familiar in the daze of the noise. The sound of a gift. A gift of hope.

The prodigial son turned his steed after soaring over the Peaceful Valley, and flew back towards the heat of battle, testing the speed of Jvan's mighty gift. It slowed, eventually, and came to a stop sixty feet from the hulking shape of Grot, spears, mortal weapons, all glanced off the hide of the majestic beast as it came to a landing within the parting sea of corrupted creatures that surrounded Grot - the otherwordly grace of the steed did such things.

It's wings turned to faulds, and Lifprasil stood upon death personified's back "Prosit." said the king with a bow, his torso shimmering with the quaking blades that coiled around his stomach. "Would you happen to know who I am?" he questioned from behind his helmet, as orange eyes shimmered within the helmet's bulbous sockets.

Grot stopped in his massive steps, looking for the source of the boom that knocked his horde to the ground wherever they were. The source of the voice in his head, a challenger. He sensed it. It didn't take long before a small creature was standing before him, asking a question.

"You are Lifprasil. Spawn of the Mind and Chaos. Favoured, but not protected, by Vestec. Why are you here, Herald of Change?"

"I am here to cease slaughter on either side, all upon my own accord, great creature." Lifprasil stated boldly, but deep within the passages of his mind, fear now gripped his heart - truly a foe so massive would be inconquerable?

No.

"On this day, I, Lifprasil, would challenge you to a battle against one another without the aid of those less powerful than us. We will fight, and one of us will die without one weaker than the other involved. Does this satisfy you?" asked the aspiring king, gripping tightly the handle of the many headed beast that bit into his armor; atop his astral steed.

Every Angel had grown silent and stopped their attacks as they turned to stare at this newcomer who had appeared out of nowhere. As they watched him challenge Grot to a duel, they thought he was insane. Even Falas thought he was out of his mind, seeing as her own attacks did so little to Grot. If the entire Angel army couldn't do anything to stop Grot, what hope did this one man have? For some reason, however, the Angels were growing more and more confident that he would be able to achieve victory, despite having little basis to come to that conclusion.

Falas, however, was not so convinced, and attempted to gain an answer from the newcomer. Flying over to Lifprasil, Falas asked him, "Lifprasil, was it? How are you so confident that you can challenge this monster by yourself? And that armor... I recognize Mother Niciel's work. Who exactly are you?"

Lifprasil turned his head, then his entire body, to face the angel before him. "Prosit," he greeted, then removed his helmet, handling it within the crook of his armored arm. "Because, Niciel protects, and my father's work carves - I am the son of Vulamera and Vestec, one of which has sent this army to besiege your home; I have come to rectify my father's misdoings as they stand." the demigod explained. "And you?" Lifprasil questioned, as the ceasefire continued from the awesome presence of the sound breaking beast, and its master.

Falas blinked in surprise. She did not recognize Vulamera's name, but she certainly did not expect Lifprasil to be a child of gods. Even Falas herself had only been born from the power of one Goddess: Niciel. Recovering from her surprise, Falas went on to introduce herself, "I am Falas, commander of the Angels and champion of Mother Niciel. It is... a pleasure to meet you." Falas turned her head to half-stare half-glare at Grot, then turned back to Lifprasil and sighed before saying, "If you have the power to defeat what my Angels and I currently couldn't, then I leave this monster in your hands. Your help is... much welcomed." With that said, Falas bowed slightly to him before flying off to command the Angels to attack the now grounded horde that had been on Grot's shoulders. That now began to climb down to the broken earth where a girl had gone before them, had abandoned her mission to be with her own, and crouched over the bleeding shape of Fencer amid the bodies of a hundred Urtelem.

Suddenly, Lifprasil returned the bow to Falas as she soared away, a deep one, much deeper, and more humbling than the one given to Grot. "My best of luck wished to thee, good creature." he said, and he spoke softly, but somehow the words had carried to Falas' ear.

They were layered, however, like Illunabar's colors his words had unseen depths to them, and with careful analysis Falas would realize that Lifprasil spoke of an army of his own; an entity vast and powerful in its strength.

Reinforcements.

It was something that may have appealled to Flux at that moment. The harrier's dive he had executed with the angels cost much of his hard-earned altitude and the order to swoop even lower down to face the ground army would be paid in more. Though Flux's energy was limitless, his time was not, and he was not fast enough on the upwing to perform the refined aerial assaults of the angels. No, he would have to hold his position, reversing his original role, this time protecting the air from the assaults of the earth below. There was nothing to defend on the ground.

No! There are two!

Fencer was still moving, a little, still breathing. Tira's quarterstaff had been lost somewhere on the climb down, and she was pulling at the Sculptor, trying to bring them to a stand. Their will to live was incredible. And their injuries were worse.

"Tui?" whispered she, not signing. "Tui yem nu din, Dansa? Tui yem ne?" Fencer was preoccupied with trying to breathe. Flux was not. He spoke gently, in his way. "There is a time for all things, Tira. For victory and for loss." She was motionless.

Fencer heard, though, and seemed to understand. Lifting an elegant, rattling club they had held on to with their last good hand, they pressed it into Tira's arms and signed with its fingers, gesturing to the strange shape of broken ribs piercing their skin. Look at that. Didn't I tell you we would find something pretty in war?

Tira laughed, first to stop herself from crying, then in grim exhilaration. "Nu wus-as," and then she stood, gripping the spiked weapon. Fencer's fae rose with her. An Urtelem, recognising her, lurched closer, missing a few toes but not entirely out of commission. Apparently Grot had still not killed all of them.

The angels were diving, now, and Flux swirled up to join them. Bladed golden light was shining, and the Rovaick were stirring back into action. Tira was caught between the converging lines above and below.

"Ne owt-as garn!" she screamed, pointing into the heart of the Rovaick army, leaping onto the Stoneman's back to lead the charge as the angelic sortie surged from the heavens under Falas.

The horde of chaos, placed down by Grot, formed up to face the attacking horde. Humans, Rovaick, and Herakati all turned to face the charging Stonemen.

"To arms! Face the foe! Death to the enemy!" Bez screamed, gathering the Chaos Horde around him. As the Urtelem drew closer and closer, a screaming arose from the ranks facing the on coming enemy. "I LOVE LAKSHMI!" Dozens of naked warriors ran from the loosely gathered horde, branding glowing stone daggers. It was only Rovaick and Humans, but there were enough. They crashed into the oncoming charge, getting up even as they were knocked down with blows that should have smashed them into a pile of gore. Tedar of the Order grappled naked with the Urtelem, their blades cutting through stone and their teeth tearing chunks out. Goblins swarmed, stabbing and biting. Humans and Rovaick worked together, cutting and stabbing at the Urtelem. It was all Tira's mount could do to hold her above the tide of war as she smashed Fencer's weapon upon the unbreakable skulls of the Order to dislodge them.

Then it all ended. The invulnerabilty ended, and they all died.

For once in his extensive lifetime, Lifprasil felt no pity for the mortals of the Order of Lakshmi - he was just concerned. "Why is there an order named after my general?" he asked nobody in particular. His formerly threatening mount looked confused, too, as if to mimic its master.

Hot on their heels came the Herakati, leaping and slashing with whatever they could to grab Angels or trying to grab and damage the now-scant Urtelem. Their dust-flinging sprint heralded the start of the battle true as the bizarre vanguard exhausted itself and let the mortals take arms in their place.

"CHAAAARGE!" Bez howled, racing after the Order of Lakshmi. Those Order of Lakshmi that hadn't charged in, were being picked up by Tedar hands or Azibo magic, and launched into the sky against the Angels above. Tira saw their shadows flicker over the ground, heard their now-familiar mad cry, but they were no longer her problem. With a quick hand she snatched the stone knife out of the still-raised fist of the last to fall to her scraped and gouged steed. Fencer's mace she swung into the open mouth of the first Heraktati, its spikes lodging deep into its inner jaw as the Urt caught its lower body. Tira used the knife to open its throat. Venom drizzled onto the weapon, but the growing Sculptor-metabolism in her veins was enough to reduce its fatal neurotoxin to naught but a sharp sting. "Rianl!" Onwards!

Grot opened his mouth and let out stream of flames at Lifprasil. It was far simpler to kill the child of Chaos rather than announce the duel had become. Survival of the fastest, strongest, and smartest.

The flames were soon extinquished as the beast recoiled, using its glowering jets to rocket backwards - generating another clap of thunder from the bottom of the battlefield. Lifprasil grimaced, and lost his grip from the ensuing jolt, dropped into the fray as his steed retreated. It soon rejoined him, but Lifprasil dismissed the creature, and Ovaedia knew Lifprasil's bloody intent: support the defenders of the Valley of Peace.

Ovaedia left its master, and charged forward, it soared over those that were allied to it without harm, but the enemy was not so lucky, amongst angels and wisps, Ovaedia reaped the chaotic forces around itself. The wrath of the creature was truly terrifying, it became a massive fog over the battlefield as it flew from place to place, and mauled footsoldier after footsoldier, breaking the sound barrier wherever it went. And Flux cackled, for the concussive sound smacked against his fae and was dampened, leaving the airborne angels free to choose what targets they wished in the dispersing swarm and blasts of noise.

The Angels received their fair share of kills, many by either close combat with energy-manifested weapons or by long range with various long-range attacks of Holy energy. As many members of the Horde were tossed into the air, some had the unfortunate luck to be targeted by the Wisps directed by Archangel Michael. Those poor souls remained in the air, landing on barriers constructed by various Barrier Wisps, and then fired upon mercilessly by the Attacker Wisps.

The Horde of Chaos was not so fortunate, many falling to the ground from the sheer concussive force of the blast. Those that were lucky enough to avoid being mauled to death.

Lifprasil, too, avoided harm, and focused his will upon the towering beast in front of him. "That was preemptive," was his commentary as he unfurled the Beast that had been restrained until now; the many headed blade extended, and grew to great lengths as it seeked out blood to shed. Lifprasil, with a flick of his wrist, followed by a vertical slash, decimated the landscape in front of him as the living weapon sank its teeth into the earth; and tore great expanses from the landscape.

He struck again, giving him cover to maneuver upward, past the wall of upturned dust, and straight toward Grot's head.

Grot could only notice a hawkish expression in Lifprasil's red eyes before his face was torn to ribbons with a heavy, probing slash, followed by a retreat, as Lifprasil began to fly on his own. He hovered in front of Grot, like an insect compared to the massive spawn of Vestec, and awaited his reaction.

Grot roared in pain as his face was torn, taking a slight stumble backwards. The skin of his throat writhed as whatever was beneath his skin moved towards the damage, he recoiled in pain, two upper hands racing up to smash Lifprasil into the ground, while his two lower hands tore great furrows in the earth around him, an almost uncontrollable reaction to the most pain he's ever felt in his life.

Bez was thrown to the ground by the concussive force of Lifprasil's steed, stunned by the sound barrier being broken so close to his ears. Thus, he didn't recognize the buzzing in his ears and limbs as unnatural until he felt Vestec's voice whispering in his mind. You are Discord...the Deunifier. The Herald of Disarray. Wield these gifts well, troll. Lead your Horde to victory.

Bez surged to his feet, power flooding his limbs. There were still some Azibos about, slinging magic ineffectually at what targets they could. "TO ME MAGIC USERS! FIRE AT THE GAPS!"

He thrust his hand towards the cloud of Fae, the air rippling in between him and his target. Marking him, along with the authority in his shout, as a target himself.

The Fae shuddered in mid-air, a gap appearing where he aimed. Flux dragged at them, but too many were disconnected, out of telepathic sync, until the elements sprang forth from the Azibo, smashing into any Angels unfortunate enough to be in the gap. Bez grinned, casting his new found powers of deunification at the cloud of insects, trying to separate them and confuse them as much as possible. The Azibo gleefully took these opportunities to fire their spells at the Angels.

As the Azibo fired, Falas had flown over to their target location and held up her buckler, expanding it to allow it to function as a proper shield while the spells clashed against the Barrier magic it created. A few Barrier Wisps added their energy to the shield as well, empowering it further to allow it to withstand the onslaught. Falas knew she had to do more than just defend, though. Falas scanned the battlefield and quickly spotted the one who had issued the command to fire. Moving her shield out of the way just a little, Falas raised her lance and pointed it at Bez, then fired a beam of Holy energy at him, intending to remove the one trying to act as a leader.

Lifprasil found himself having a very intimate meeting with Grot's palm as he was swatted out of the air, and consequently thrown to the ground. With a distant crash, Lifprasil was absorbed by the earthy floor beneath Grot, and he resurfaced to a stunned Bez, that which stood before him.

Something felt different about this one as he pulled himself from the dirt and the gravel he had descended into. There was just a grunt from him, the oval shaped gaps in his helmet having begun resonating a deep crimson, and his blade writhed like restrained snakes.

Bez looked around for another target, a vicious grin on his face, only to see a beam of energy heading right for him. Instinctively, he dove to the ground, knowing that the explosion from the beam was still going to kill him. Damn it all! Just when I could have turned the tide! he raged, waiting for death. There was a large BOOM!, but rather than the fiery embrace of death, there was only his own, frantic, breathing.

The troll looked up to see a human, or so the build told him, staring at him. His armor radiated holiness, while his writhing sword bespoke of chaos and bloodlust, as did his glowing crimson eyes.

He was an enemy, Bez knew that much.

As fast as he could (which was far faster now, he noted) he leapt to his feet and grabbed a stone axe, waiting warily for the newcomer to make the first move.

There was no attack from him, only a momentary glare before the newcomer took off again, leaving Bez to his own devices - and a second chance.

Lifprasil soared into the air, and with his blade in hand, ran the weapon along the monster's midsection, and all the way up to his chest, which generated a truly humongous gash in his sickly skin. The demigod then fluttered away, and noticed the movement under skin, the tendrils, and the limbs that gestated beneath.

Falas was confused at first, wondering what she had hit with the beam, but as the dust settled, she saw Lifprasil standing where she had been aiming, with the troll lying on the ground behind him. Falas realized that during the chaos, she had probably hit Lifprasil when he had fallen, and panic began to rise in her mind. Fortunately, he seemed to be unharmed, as he flew off without a word. Falas stared at Lifprasil for a second, then turned her attention back on Bez. That one still needed to be dealt with.

Fortunately, the crater alone was enough to drag eyes, and a certain pair was keen on their source.

There was a rhythm to the churn of the horde. Tira was picking it up quickly. Some Lakshmian knife had taken one of her stoneman's eyes, but its tactile sense was capable, and he was fast learning to respond to the shift in her feet. Now she directed his speed towards the clusters of goblins between her and the shouter, catching those who leapt at her in the spikes of her club and burying the stolen knife in any soft meat she could find. The venom had degraded in air, yet was still somewhat effective. Those who ducked for cover survived or were crushed by stone feet, her attention elsewhere, ears shielded from the underlying drone by Fencer's lost fae.

"Yiesh run, wus!" The crater- Some or other magic, gods knew there was too much going around- still supported a leader on its lip, and she swept forward with Fencer's weapon as she drew close, hungry to tumble him into it with the blades at its tip.

Grot's face was fully healed, the thing beneath his skin moving down his body, allowing him to spew flames once more. Unfortunately, it came too late, and his opponent opened bloody gashes in his stomach and chest, causing Grot to thrash and roar in pain again, flames raked the ground, the earth cracked and rose randomly as his hands smashed into the combatants below him.

His ankle began to turn that same infected black, heralding the screeching and reaching limbs once more. Right on time foul black liquid sprayed forth, burning any who touched it, and the limbs shot forward again, dragging earth, corpses, living creatures, anything organic it could into the open wound. There was a frantic air about the movements of the limbs this time, as if whatever it was knew that Grot was injured once more and that it had to hurry.

Bez took the advantage he was given, causing more disunity in the Fae and eyeing the barriers of the wisps. Before he could test his new found power, another screaming opponent was charging him. Bez leapt out of the way, marveling at his newfound speed even as his compatriots died around him. He threw his axe at Tira, using his marvelous new strength to send it whistling through the air.

Excellent timing turned foul was all that saved the Sculptor, who had been braced for the sudden, satisfying jerk of stuck meat. Tira's strength carried her swing too far, and too hard, when she had the malfortune of giving Bez a chance to test his new speed. The weapon's momentum carried it high and threw off her poise. A small miracle that she managed to maintain her grip. A greater miracle that the thrown axe smashed into the handle of the club and spun off elsewhere into the battle.

Bez's almighty hurl had been enough to snap the wooden macehead from its haft and the lethal ball of spikes sunk into Tira's cheek.

To an onlooker it looked like a harmless bounce, but only because of the speed at with the faery blade slit open her face, knocking her head to one side; She collapsed onto the stoneman's back and he sensed something was wrong immediately, turning into a defensive posture until he felt her crouch. "Thglup," she half-cursed, half-spat blood with an odd quietness. Then she snarled.

The wounded urt charged back, and this time she sheltered behind it, the splintered stick still in one hand; Rather than joust blindly, she forced the urt to buck as it neared, and used its movement to jump up and at Bez, blocking with the splintered haft, lashing out with the stone knife.

Something wide and powerful thrust into her shoulder, and for the briefest instant, things went black...

Lifprasil grimaced, disgusted by the wretched display from Grot, such wasted life - used as sustenance, he thought, and pulled his weapon backward, then forward to strike into the horrifying display, attacking the ebony limbs; outstretched to devour all.

With that strike, something in the atmosphere changed, a sudden change came from the Horde of Chaos' flank as a warcry reigned free amongst the landscape outside the Valley of Peace. An army, foreign, shrouded in cloth so colorful it pained the eye, approached on massive steeds built from creaking exotic wood, their weapons were long, sharp, tipped in bronze and ebony.

The polearms that punctuated the army swayed to and fro like trees, and a chant carried them still.

"In his name! In the name of Lifprasil! In the name of the King! In the name of Unity!" they cried, their artificial horses, crafted by Illunabar and the Muses shook the ground, and created a massive cloud of dust behind them as they ran without a loss of stamina. When the Lifprasilians neared the flank of the Horde, their weapons lowered, extended outward to strike into the oncoming group. Their work was quick, and the group, that which was mostly comprised of footsoldiers and the like, found themselves impaled, and being beaten into by the Army of Lifprasil, and at the tip of the spear was Lakshmi.

"F-forward! C-c-cut into the-ir r-ranks!" she exclaimed, holding her leaf shaped gladius in one hand, and firing into the larger members of the horde with the other. In fact, she was spouting lasers from the palm of her hand, the divine energy was concentrated into a pillar of excruciatingly bright light, that which burned and cut perfectly any that came its way.

However, another heroic presence made her approach, a former huntress, now a hero, distanced herself from Lifprasil's army. She lacked horns, or any sort of colorful garb, if anything her wares were drab and colorless to blend in with the ensuing chaos. Even on her horse, Susa's heroic power allowed her to carry herself silently, and to many she wasn't even there, the only marker of her presence were the arrows that began flying into the skulls of the Horde of Chaos.

Just as Falas was about to attack Bez once more, someone else had already begun initiating combat. Falas hesitated, unsure of what to do now. While doing so, a new army appeared, already attacking the Horde of Chaos upon their arrival. Falas was astonished, having never seen anything of their like. As the events unfolded, Falas realized that there was no need to worry with the Horde. Things would work out against the Horde just fine. As for Lifprasil, though, Falas was a little worried, after all. She remembered Grot's capabilites well. He might not need it, but perhaps some help would not be unwanted.

Falas shouted to the Angels, "Everyone! We have more reinforcements! Aid them, and the enemy will soon be defeated!" A resounded cheer eminated from the Angels, and they immediately began putting more effort in their attacks. "I will aid Lisprasil against the battle of the beast! Archangel Michael is my second-in-command!" Falas announced, and she quickly flew off toward Lifprasil.

Upon reaching him, Falas bowed slightly, then proceeded to greet him, "Lifprasil, I need to tell you about this monster's regeneration ability. There seems to be some sort of hidden entity within its body that repairs its wounds."

Lifprasil's head jerked to meet Falas, and within that helmet of his, she would see the predatory crimson revert to his regal gold. He seemed tense, but he soon relaxed, and returned to his former state - the one she saw when he first confronted Grot. "I was beginning to ponder the nature of those phantom limbs..." he stated, slowly, looking to the now raging Grot, and the still consuming, spidery limbs that had stemmed from his sloughing skin. He held his weapon at bay, as the mindless heads threatened to strike at Falas. "Then we should strike at the source, you and I." Lifprasil offered, a sense of comradery hidden behind his voice.

Falas nodded. "Agreed," Falas said, readying her shield and lance. When she first considered the idea before Lifprasil arrived, she had wondered if she would escape the attempt alive. With Lifprasil's aid, though, that would be less of an issue now.

For some.

Bez had caught Tira, her stone blade going through his forearm, his free hand grabbing her as his body twisted to slam her onto the ground, a snarl of pain and anger escaping him. He hadn't even noticed that all around him the Horde was either dying or being taken prisoner, finally outmatched and beaten down by the sheer numbers against them.

All the worse for her. Tira was light, and tossed easily, and the reinforced leather of her tunic did little more than dull the sharp points of gravel in the boot-stamped earth while the impact kicked the wind from her lungs and yanked her knife arm roughly out of shape, the blade locked tight into the bone of Bez's arm.

She yelled for the blind Urtelem, but the shout was dampened by her own fae and lost in the battle-noise. Using her voice made Tira's profusely bleeding face wound throb harder, and fear only quickened her pulse. The rolls of head-nausea that precedes a blood faint was swelling.

Bez was barely bleeding at all...

Tira shut her mouth, tucked both legs to her chest and slammed her boots to the troll's chest while bracing hard against his throat with the broken haft. Raising her lower body sent a rush of fresh blood to her brain and she used it to focus on the knife alone, using Bez's own body to support her as she ripped out her stolen weapon.

The trolls mocking laughter was abruptly cut short as the wooden half slammed into his throat, gurgling in surprise as she slammed into him and tore her blade out of his arm.

It wrenched its way out through his elbow, and there was bone on its chipped blade under the burst of blood. Tira's left arm was quickly sodden with red now that the troll's wound was open. No time to think. She took the splintered haft from his throat and rammed its point into the soft of his other palm while she could.

Bez released her by reflex. Tira left the wooden spike hanging there and slunk away on hands and knees as heat flared far above her.

Bez roared in pain, his left arm hanging useless, a wooden haft stuck in his right hand. "You think you can run? You think I'll let you escape?!" He gripped the spike inbetween his teeth and ripped his hand free, screaming with more pain. Dropping the haft from his jaws, Bez bent down only to pick up the awful splint Tira had left behind. "I'm going to kill you. And then I'm going to eradicate your entire species. One by one!" He began shambling after Tira, blood gushing down his left arm, right hand clenching the bloodied stake.

She rushed, gasping, driving more blood out through her face. As Tira's concentration slipped, the last faery she had inherited from Fencer wavered and fell away from her fragile mental grip. Maybe that was why the wounded stoneman finally heard her voice.

With weak and weakening aim, an open hand of rock slapped out from behind Bez, perhaps searching for his skull but only finding his already-damaged arm. This time, something really broke. The urt didn't know what, but he doubted it was the head-bone, because he could still sense the troll's hatred. That was not good.

Trying to squint with his remaining eye, the stoneman stood and waved both hands in the general direction of the great muscular warrior, felt one thud into his belly and bounce from Bez's enormous set of core muscles. Had he fallen over? No? Good enough! The Urtelem loped off, grunting for Tira.

If sheer good fortune had saved her until now, it had finally run out. Tira passed under the stoneman's blind spot and was left behind only for her would-be rescuer's foot to grind passed her calf, digging a long graze into the skin and smacking her ankle into a twist. Maybe Tira's last luck had gone into saving her leg from being crushed. Too tired to cry out anymore, she dragged herself as far as she could, and disappeared into the mess of a losing battle.

Bez screamed in pain as his shoulder was shattered, the flesh torn and shredded, turning to strike at the Urtelem attacking him. However, he was only doubled over as the stoneman's fist crashed into his stomach, slowly sinking too his knees as blood loss took it's toll. Bez fell to the ground, unconscious.

Grot was turning his attention to the new army. A titanic roar escaped him, seeing the horde being slowly destroyed. He opened his mouth, flames shooting from it to incinerate the Lifprasilians in an unholy fire.

Lakshmi saw the pillars of flame that had already begun tearing her forces apart, and focused her arm towards the pillaring tower of flesh that threatened to desparage Lifprasil's army. Her beam of might spit fire down the gullet of the destroyer, rending his face in several places.

Susa saw this, and in the back of her mind, the village she had once dwelled in tugged at her conscious, she grimaced, and her hatred grew; she found her accuracy increased, and her vigor rose. Each arrow seemed to rip whomever was unfortunate enough to fall victim to Susa in half, and in the midst of battle, she continued to fight from a range. Lifprasil, however, managed to remain calm as he observed the writhing Lifprasilians below, set aflame by the creature before him. "Follow me - we will fly into the wound on his side," he said, before he wrapped his blade around his waist, and darted into the boiling green flesh of Grot.

Falas' first instinct when Grot had turned his attention away from her and Lifprasil to spew fire at the armies below was to rush over to Grot's face and use her shield to block the flames from doing too much damage to the Lisprasians, but she refrained from doing so, knowing that she wouldn't survive such an attempt unscathed. Fortunately, though, there were already others taking measures to repel the attack. Falas was still worried, but she knew that they would hold out. On that note, she then followed Lifprasil to one of Grot's wounds and, steeling herself, plunged into it after Lifprasil.

Grot's head snapped back as the laser hit his mouth, bellowing in pain again. He didn't even feel Lifprasil and Falas enter his body, landing in the wide, almost tunnel like, insides of his intestines.

But something else did.

The spidery limbs retracted, having seemingly gathered enough from around it, healing the wound it had made. One could see the skin rippling as it headed towards Lifprasil and Falas.

Grot himself focused on Lakshmi, the source of his annoyance right now. He took a step towards her, before swinging one of his lower hands down, smashing through the earth and Lifprasilians to bat her out of the way and out of this fight.

Lakshmi and a large portion of the Lifprasilians that would have found themselves at the mercy of Grot's mighty blow would find themselves instead dropped into a swirling pool of azure that spilled them out behind the waves of the Lifprasilian army, and in an instant the azure was gone, instead letting the dirt and earth take the brunt of Grot's blow. The portal-maker himself was a fair distance away from the fighting, and soon would be soon moving away, an azure portal left suspended over the battlefield.

The Lifprasilians that would have been destroyed all looked to the small cat that had saved them, some even fell off of their wooden horses in anticipation of the attack. The ones that had remained on their steeds however, all let out a cheer for the demi-cat that had saved them, before Lakshmi would lead them back into the fray.

Lifprasil himself, on the other hand, readied to fight the massive beast that resided within Grot, before he looked to Falas. "Falas, find the beast's heart and destroy it, I will be sure to fight whatever lurks within him - can you do that?" he asked, a hand on the hilt of his coiled blade.

Upon entering Grot's body, Falas realized just how repulsive it was to be inside another living being's body like this. She clutched her lance and shield close to her as her eyes darted back and forth, uneasy about the predicament they were in. Turning to Lifprasil when he addressed her, Falas grimaced at the prospect, but deemed it necessary and responded, "Of course." She began to follow the path within Grot's intestines, creating a small yellow light on the tip of her lance when the light within Grot's insides began to grow dim. As Falas flew, she stayed alert for the entity that was responsible for Grot's regeneration, as well as other dangers that could potentially be around.

Lifprasil persisted in staying where he was, making sure to stab into the intestines of Grot, and make a general mess of his innards to attract the monster that dwelled within, and hopefully anger the beast more.

There was an angry rumbling sound, the innards shaking as something moved ever closer. The creature tore through the intestines, healing the wounds it made as it faced Lifprasil. It was a spiderlike creature, hissing in anger at the Demi God.

Its limbs shot forward, intent upon impaling Lif into the ground.

With a tense eye, Lifprasil released the blade he had wrapped around his waist, and used it to tear into the limb that threatened to impale him. The many headed attack not only cut away at the limb of the monster that had consumed so many, but tore apart the organs further, generating a divide in the proximity where Lifprasil struck.

As the battle between Lif and the sniper began, Falas turned to look back when she heard the sounds echo through the intestines. Falas was naturally worried, but she felt she could trust Lifprasil to handle the job and continued. As she flew, though, she began to wonder if she was going to make it to the heart in a timely matter if she merely flew through the intestines. She had no idea where they were leading to, nor the direction she was facing. She wasn't even entirely sure if she was right-side-up anymore. Then she realized her hair was still on her shoulders, so that was at least some indication.

Wanting to waste no time, Falas pointed her lance upward and fired a wide beam of Holy energy, burning through the intestinal walls and through various tissues. Once the deed was done, a steady stream of various liquids began flowing through the hole. Falas could hear the sizzling noise that was being made as the stream was flowing, and decided that it was definitely not a good idea to touch any of it. Raising her shield above her head to act as an umbrella, Falas flew through the hole she had made, drops of liquid flowing off the Barrier magic the shield had created. She also tried her best to make sure her wings did not come into contact with anything dangerous, folding them closer to her body.

The spider creature screeched in pain and frustration as its limb was cut off and it sensed the damage cause by Falas. It couldn't go anywhere, and the invaders were at seperate locations. It rushed Lifprasil, screeching and stabbing with its limbs towards the Demi-God.

Lifprasil decided to experiment with whatever modus operandi of combat he had nibbled from his travels, and ducked underneath the beast, cleaving into its underbelly with his blade as he did so. With a huff and a step he was behind the charging monster, and the weapon he had named 'Beast' in itself stabbed at the surrounding walls of Grot. However, he did not make it out unscathed - the monster had generated a tear in the back of NIciel's armor, and began to bleed him.

However, Lifprasil did not bleed, instead, eyes peered out from the porthole that had been created in his palor skin. Lifprasil did not seem to mind, however, as the hole soon mended itself, and he was ready for another pass.

The creature screeched again, scrambling on its feet as its guts spewed all over the intestinal floor of Grot's intestines. It lashed out against Lifprasil again, weakly. It was dying, that much was clear.

Grot started roaring in pain, thrashing about and spewing fire indiscriminately. He didn't know why there was agony in his stomach. His feet smashed everything around him, hands tearing up the earth as he spewed flame around him. Earth rose, and sank, crushing whatever was between it into a gooey paste.

Lifprasil was suddenly rocketed to and fro by the convulsions and harrowing anger of Grot, and he realized something was very wrong. Suddenly, an eye manifested itself upon Belvast's hat, and squinted at the salty atmosphere of where he was. "Do it now, banish the Champion of Vestec to this watery grave," it demanded, whispered in a strange tongue, one filled with malice.

On the other hand, Lakshmi and her Lifprasilians had a hard time attempting to navigate from Grot - it was apparent that this destructive temper tantrum would kill them, and soon. The earlier miracle was envious in its timing, for now the current situation's fixability was somewhat... neglible without the proper, more drastic measures from a small, but very powerful cat. "Re-retreat! Run, Grot i-intends to kill us a-all!" ordered the stuttering hero, before she was thrown off of her horse, as the wooden thing, and half of her armored guard were sent screaming into the abyss.

Lakshmi followed, and held tight her bronze sword as she fell with several other comrades. The browning metal scraped against earthen texture abound, and Lakshmi only saw herself falling to her death.

A great swath of earth threatened to press into her and kill her, so she extended a left arm as bright as the sun, and fired from her palm, effectively cleaving it in half and saving herself as she slide down, down... However, just as it seemed she would meet a pile of gore at the basin of this dark ravine, Oevadia dove into the crag that Lakshmi had fallen victim to, but could not reach her. Lakshmi had to regain some distance between her and the massive bird, but the skin of Galbar threatened to mend, with them inside, so, calling upon her heroic strength, she pressed the heels of her toes to either side of the slowly narrowing walls.

With a cry of pain, she slowed herself, but her leather shoes gave way to skin, and blood, before she would eventually utilize what waining strength she had to jump upwards, and be grasped by Oevadia's feet. The pairing flew out, but Lifprasil's army was still being consumed by Grot's rage. Something had to be done.

As Grot continued his violent tantrum, Archangel Michael commanded the Angels, "Do not approach the beast! Keep your distance!" Fortunately, many Angels had the same idea and chose to stay back.

Elsewhere, the one thing that could turn the tide was staring into the sea, his black eye stinging with the salt and sting of the sea's breeze, the White Ocean standing before him as he peered across the horizon, his gaze unnervingly focused on a singular point as the sea's surface, several miles out would give way to a glowing pool of azure beneath it, about 500 ft. deeper. His fur was drenched and his clothing lay in a pile beside him as he continued to glare at the ocean as if waiting before hearing the order. Shakily, his eye peered back through the portal overlooking the battle, the carnage, the inevitable slaughter of the Lifprasilians before the portal suddenly closed and his eye snapped shut.

A mere quarter of a second would pass before he clutched his head in agony, as a swirling tide of Azure appeared beneath Grot's feet and around him, the Eye of the Portcullis tearing open and becoming bloodshot as it experiences the physical embodiment of Belvast's struggle to maintain a portal so great in size for more than a brief moment. Deeply Belvast stared, biting down hard against the pain burning into his mind as he attempted to make Grot into an offering to the sea. It was the only way to be sure that there would be no more casualties than necessary, and to stop Grot from destroying the entirety of the valley. Digging his claws into the sand, Belvast clenched his hands hard. "You...will owe me....at least a barrel..." he struggled to say, not even sure if Lifprasil could hear his pathetic quiver of a voice against the strain of his effort as Grot's feet would find themselves falling into the ocean. Now all that was left was to wait.

[1 Might expended to create the portal]

Lifprasil was suddenly driven to the ceiling of Grot's intestinal tract as the green beast descended into the ocean, but he sooner lashed out at the spider monster than let it attack him in this state - attempting to finish it off.

The spider died, limbs flying everywhere, as Grot crashed, still roaring in pain, into the ocean. Almost immediately, ocean water began flooding into his body from the various wounds, as Grot flailed. He had never swam before, and it wasn't going well. Panic consumed his mind and he began to sink like a rock.

Falas continued to slice away at Grot's insides, hoping to find his heart soon before things took a turn for the worse. Unfortunately for her, it seemed that she was not going to have that wish granted, as things became more violent inside Grot. She found herself getting shaken around as Grot flailed, and to make matters worse, water soon began to flow inside Grot. Falas began to panic, tensing up for a moment, but she forced herself to remain calm and decided that her survival was top priority, abadoning the mission to destroy Grot's heart for now.

On that note, Falas raised her lance and fired a beam of Holy energy, eventually creating a new wound that opened up on the surface of Grot's skin. Unfortunately, water began flowing in from there as well, quickly submerging her. Falas had no experience in swimming, and she began to panic even more now, desperate for air. Falas still had more than enough energy left to fly, though, and she shot herself through the wound she had made. It wasn't long before she made it out, hovering over the surface of the ocean. Falas was a bit worse for wear, coughing her lungs out to clear out the water that had managed to get in and exhausted from the fighting, but she was alive.

Before the ocean water could consume him, Lifprasil escaped Grot's body, and resurfaced near his head: he had one last thing to do before Grot died. He fell upon his shoulder, just beside his head, and with an evervescent light that would not soon be extinguished, calmed the mile tall beast's mind through direct contact. The shining power pulsated throughout his forearm, like his own heart beat, he made the rhythm of their anatomy one, each one's thoughts intertwined. This was Lifprasil's power.

"Stay calm, great beast, your journey need not be over, as we will soon be one, I am the Prince of Chaos yet, but you must slumber now," spoke the aspiring king, covered in blood, but with a face wreathed in elegance. "Your body will return to Galbar's womb, but you will be taken into my fold." Lifprasil then reassured Grot, and the Champion of Chaos himself saw the Demi-God for what he truly was, a creature of gold, with seven purple, red, and green eyes interlaced around one of white.

"Surrender."

Grot's flailing slowly ceased, and he began to sink into the water faster, limbs going limp. "Yes..." He rumbled, whatever warning signs he had going quiet under Lifprasil's power. "Rest. Rest and slumber before the great slaughter..." His mouth closed, and Grot, the First Champion of Chaos, sank beneath the waves.

After Grot had given that disturbing token of knowledge, Lifprasil escaped from his perch and went to Falas to console her, and held her in his arms. "You did well." he congratulated, as his own being was revitalized, powered by the essence of Grot.

Falas was certainly not expecting the sudden gesture from Lifprasil, and blushed as she was being held in Lifprasil's arms. She felt rather small and weak like this, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. She did feel a little comforted by the gesture, though. "Um... t-thank you," Falas stammered out, feeling rather embarrassed now. Stay calm! You're the leader of the entire Angel race! Falas thought to herself, trying to keep her emotions in check.

Lifprasil stood, and carried Falas with him "Let us return to our people," he said, walking up to the collapsed form of Belvast. The battle was over, and Lifprasil made sure of it with one woe begotten glance to the water that had eaten Grot. "Rise, Belvast, your reprieve will be soon. Grot is defeated, and many lives have been saved thanks to you."

"You owe me SO many fish." Belvast replied, raising his head lazily, the black center eye on his head still slightly bloodshot as he rubbed his head, right beside it. "Grot is dead then? You're certain?" he questioned, before looking to Falas and immediately covering himself with his cotton trousers. "Pardon me."

"I'm certain of it, I gave him calm before his death." Lifprasil stated with confidence. "Are you able to teleport? I would not like you to strain yourself too hard."

Belvast's third eye shut after a moment and he said: "I'm okay...it only stings a little. I've never made a portal that big before for so long, and at such a distance. It was...an experience to say the least. Are you unhurt?" with a tone of concern as he hopped up and dusted off his pants, to shake the sand free of the cotton as he did the same to his undershirt and robe.

The looming Demi-God chuckled, and shook his head "No, however, I could stand to visit Niciel to mend my armor. If anything, I feel... Better. How does a visit to the Peaceful Valley sound?" Lifprasil questioned with a lithe smile.

"Peaceful." Belvast said plainly before he placed his hat back atop his ears. "Would you like me to make a gate for us? What of your army? I doubt they'll enjoy the fanfare of the end of the battle without their King."

"To OUR army, you are my friend, and a friend of my people. Do not estrange yourself from them," Lifprasil corrected "A gate would be suitable, however."

"I did no fighting. And I was late to save many of your soldiers from Grot." Belvast stated, before opening a portal vertically a few feet away from them, slowly walking towards it. "Even so, without you requesting it of me, I doubt I would have intervened as I did. A selfishly performed task is not one that deserves thanks." he added, finishing with: "I will, however, still take the barrel of fish."

Lifprasil shook his head "This is a valuable lesson, to be selfless is a learned trait, and I feel like you learnt something." he explained, before he stepped through the gate, carrying Falas still.

Belvast went through as well, the gate taking them back to the battlefield once more.

Elsewhere...

Oevadia touched down upon the battlefield, and relenquished Lakshmi, left her to stagger amongst the shattered remains of the assault. The damage was far less severe than what could have been - but Lifprasil's forces were devastated with their first casualties. The many soldiers had managed to corner the Horde of Chaos with the help of the angels, and amongst the scattered bodies, the gore, and the burnt Lifprasilian Knights - Lakshmi tripped over... Something. It moaned, not without a healthy measure of spite.

Lakshmi found her ankle in the grip of a deeply dirtied hand, though its grip seemed much stronger than Tira's ability to hold up the arm it was attached to. "Ui, sista, kint," muttered the thin obstacle on the field: 'wait'. Heaving, forcing bloodless arms to support a chest that now felt too heavy for them, Tira sat prone. "Runati ly Dansa? Runati ly je wanem?"

Where are my friends?

"Who is that?" questioned Susa, who had risen from the blood and the ashes of the battlefield, surprisingly lacking in any sort of blood or gore, just covered in sweat. "I d-don't qui-ite know..." Lakshmi stuttered, before she knelt to the small girl (in comparison to the hulking hero).

"Did she come from the Horde?" Susa questioned, spiteful.

"D-doubtful - are yo-u okay?" Lakshmi questioned from Tira, reaching over to lift her out of the mud, and into her lap.

Susa decided to join Lakshmi, and kneel beside them "Is she injured?" she asked Lakshmi, who just shrugged, and told her to shush. In an odd move, Tira mimicked the motion. "Asshhh. Al ne yiesh." Let me stand.

It didn't look like she could, at first, but she stretched, and her eyes focused on the general's oddly-shaped grey ears. A good sign. A sign, if nothing else, that she wasn't about to use the knife that still dripped onto her already-scarlet left arm, or at least that the idea didn't occur to her.

Did she stand? No, but we must nonetheless acknowledge the great effort she spent to flop her way out of Lakshmi's lap.

"Ne-as wus," she muttered. Regret. Guilt. Tira shut her eyes, and folded her legs into a sitting position, then looked up. For the first time she seemed to look Lakshmi in the eye. "Tui, kiki? Ly hak."

What now? They're dead.

Lakshmi frowned, and Susa actually felt some sadness stir within her, as if either or had enhanced empathy because of their association with emotion.

"Prosit," is all Lakshmi said to Tira, the word had some depth to it, now, and it helped reassure her. With this she took off her cloak, that which was wreathed in bright colors, laiden with bronze, and tacked with precious gems, and wrapped it around Tira. "Y-you may no-t-t understand m-me, but have you n-nowhere f-f-for yourself, y-you may c-come to me." she then reassured the small girl, before both she and Susa silently agreed to help her stand, if not carry her.

Oevadia just watched, now just a gentle shadow.

Tira's head drooped on her neck, although it might have been a nod. That was how she eventually stood, and dragged her feet along to the safety where the Lifprasilians led her: A small thing, a bleeding thing, and fighting, fighting every step of the way to push aside her momentary guardians and walk by herself. Never succeeding, but never looking back. Perhaps that was how she grieved.

And not so far behind, a thing of metallic blacks and yellows watched with no eyes, supporting a body that had once been so fine an artist. Goodbye, young fighter. Fare ye well.

Flux let Fencer's head rest upon the broken earth and took to the air, to rejoin the ranks of the angels. Dancer's body would stay where it had fallen, as they had died, that it may rot and become the strangest skeleton of a strange field, on which a half-blind Urtelem would forever look and sign the twin names of death and sorrow. Better not that Tira would come to regret. Better not that he be the one to let her look back.

Her journey had started now, and started true.

Lifprasil would find himself stepping through back onto the hard rock of the valley, his men, fallen or standing were around him with him as the epicenter of the entire place. Belvast hid behind him, wanting his friend to get his rallying cheer. "Go on. Its your floor." Belvast whispered, tipping his hat down slightly.

Lifprasil let Falas down, and then picked Belvast up to rest the small feline on his shoulder, there were no words, just a raised Sword of Chaos, that which had just swayed like grass; that which had been quelled by the blood that had been spilled on that day. The Lifprasilian Knights all cheered on their horses, on their feet, some supporting others, the cheer was thunderous and mighty; and it shook the hearts of many. The Lifprasilians had seen their first battle, and saved their first peoples, they had taken their first step torwards a peaceful world.

However, there were no cheering from the camp flanking Tira, Lakshmi felt joy in her heart, but she had seen the bloody, fiery, and inhumane deaths her comrades had suffered. Susa felt numb, mute, she thought that striking down the monstrous horde and ending their reign of terror would give her some absolution.

But deep inside, she wanted more. There was no satisfaction from this. Maybe it would have been better if she had remained a simple villager, rather than a crusader.

Falas bowed to Lifprasil after the journey back to the Valley of Peace, and returned to her Angels. Upon reaching them, though, the Angels had a slew of questions to ask. Did you defeat the monster? Where did it go? Are you alright? Why was Lifprasil carrying you like that?

"Alright, everyone, quiet down! Quiet! Down!" Falas yelled over them, and the Angels quickly became silent, waiting for her answers. "All will be explained in due time. The important thing is that the monster is dead. We have successfully defended the Valley of Peace!" Falas announced. The silenced was filled with a few gasps that quickly turned with a deafening cheer.

The defeated Horde remained silent, warily watching the many blades and all to easily angered soldiers around them.

After a while, the Lifprasilian Knights calmed, and Lifprasil set Belvast down, and he rose up, floated above the ground, and above the Knights. "Grot is dead, the Horde is defeated, and I feel as if we have made valuable new allies on this day. However, it did not come with a price," he exclaimed, still covered in gore from head to toe.

"Lakshmi, take the wounded back to our home, a hundred men, and as many horses as needed will be suitable. The rest will stay here to look after the prisoners, and we will have convention with these Angels of the brave Falas. You may rest now, all of you, deserve it." Lifprasil then elaborated, and pointed out people with uncanny accuracy, he divided them up with ease. Like a King.

Lakshmi nodded to Susa, who ran off to the surrounded Horde, which left Lakshmi with Tira. "C-come with me," said the hero after a heavy moment of silence. She went to touch Tira, but took pause, and merely led her with the one hundred Lifprasilian Knights appointed to her. The took a large swath of horses with them, their limbs creaked, and their bodies shuddered with each step, but the wounded took to them nicely. When the time came, one of a cherry oak, a brilliant, polished crimson color was driven to Lakshmi by the last remaining member of her guard, who remained faceless under his purple cloak.

"T-thank yo-ou," Lakshmi choked, and fought back tears she motioned for the girl to climb the wooded steed. "D-do-don't b-be afra-id." she reassured her, as the lone guard stepped back, and held close his broken spear.

The leather-coated youngster squinted to focus on the thin glint of that weapon, then at her own hands as she accepted a Lifprasilian's leg-up onto Lakshmi's Marionette. She was still holding the stolen knife, that held not very long ago by those who had so been so cruelly named after the general. Looking back up to Lakshmi, she hid away the stone thing deep in her coat, where the day's blood could be forgotten, at least for a time.

"Tira," whispered she, pointing to herself with her freed hand. Then she slumped onto Lakshmi's back.

Behind, the commotion consisted of a steadily growing line of injured Lifprasilians and other peoples being loaded onto horses, many of them weren't even part of Lifprasil's offensive, just any injured the one hundred Knights could nibble from the chaotic remnants of a battlefield.

Vestec appeared in a flash, two dripping pieces of flesh in his hands. looking around at the carnage and injured. "I'm impressed. For a spur of the moment plan, this worked rather well." Vestec looked over at Lifprasil. "Conqueror of mine, three quarters of the remaining Horde have decided that you are their leader, seeing as you killed Grot. Kill them, let them into your army, it is all up to you now." He walked over to the prone from of Bez, tsking. "I had better hopes for you. Oh well. Maybe you'll do better with time."

He tucked the pieces of flesh into his coat, before picking Bez up. "Oh. That arm is useless." With a sickening ripping sound, Vestec tore off the troll's arm, his chaos magic sealing the stump shut. "There. Much better." He slung Bez over his shoulder, turning to Lifprasil once more. "Well, I've got to go. Hordes to renovate, Chaos to plan. You know, all the usual. Have fun dearie! Falas represents the Angels, so maybe you'll have a chance at convincing her to let the Nice Mountains be annexed by your Empire. Niciel won't approve at all, I'm afraid." With that, he was gone, taking the remaining quarter of the survivors who would rather die that serve Lifprasil with him.

A human woman of the remainder stood up, covered in blood and limping, but alive. "My lord..." She began, tentatively. "We are the remainder. We have decided that you're too strong to fight. We seek to join your..." She paused, searching for the word. "Empire."

Lifprasil smiled, but soon took off his helmet, and put on an expression of pity for those injured in the battle. "Your cooperation is most welcomed - hand over your wounded, and those still fit may stay with my army, however, you are warned: in my lands, there are laws, and those broken often yield punishment. I will not so easily hand over weapons and armor to you, but I will shelter you, provided you do not harm my people. Is that clear?" said the Demi-God, gently, as if speaking to a strange frailty that would be easily started by any significant change in pitch.

He stooped lower, and lower from his lofty height, so that he stood equal to the Horde, covered in what remained of their former leader that was not consumed by the ocean.

The woman looked back at the horde. "I cannot promise they will all obey. But you can try to impress upon them the fact that there will be retribution if they break your laws."

Belvast couldn't help but give an appraising look of the prospective new additions to the Lifprasilian army. Only a few minutes ago they had been enemies, and suddenly are left, abandoned at the mercy of the victor. Not like it was his place to say anything, but Lifprasil merely glanced over to Lifprasil, his eyes full of unese as if to question if he was sure about this.

Summary, but read the post instead because wow nice 10/10

Grot comes within sight of the Nice Mountains, bearing on his back an army of chaotic Rovaick, Humans, Urtelem, and Heraktati. Among them is Bez, a troll warrior of repute.

Waiting for them in the mountains are Falas, the four Archangels, and a well-organised angelic army supported by Holy Wisps. Between the foothills waits a conglomerate of about five herds of Urtelem under the guidance of the sculptor Dancer (who renamed themself Fencer for the occasion), their apprentice Tira, and a large faery swarm manoeuvred by the water-djinn sculptor Flux.

The battle commences. Grot demonstrates the elementalism given to him by Vestec, breathing great jets of fire at the airborne Angels and disrupting their flight with air magic. Falas counterattacks to significant effect with holy magic, but Grot's wounds sprout deadly, acid-tipped limbs to lash out at the attackers before promptly sealing up again.

Grot's Urtelem drop to the ground and are immediately attacked by Dancer's, who have received Jvan and Teknall's gift and so are better organised. When Grot takes heed of this, he uses earth magic to crush many. Knowing that his fae can't stop Grot, Flux takes the swarm up to support the angels, shielding them from fire and wind while the Urtelem lead a futile suicide charge to try and trip up Grot. Tira and Fencer attempt to climb Grot's body to join the fight.

Falas takes the better-defended angels down with Flux to attack Grot's legs, noticing a trend in the behaviour of his wounds. Tira is targeted by one of the strange limbs, which is snapped apart by Fencer at the cost of falling to the ground below. She abandons her mission to find her friend.

Elsewhere, Vestec approaches Niciel to discuss the battle. The conversation quickly turns to another cautiously diplomatic exchange over the Angels sent to die at Toun's hands. Vestec raises the point that Toun has very few allies, and would benefit from seeking aid from other gods after being attacked unjustly. Niciel is still rather doubtful of Vestec's version of events, feeling that the God of Chaos is lying to cause more conflict. She refuses to give up hope for Vestec, and believes (to his amusement) that there is still purity in him, if not exactly 'good'.

While talking, Vestec also decides that his horde needs another hero and sends off some power to an unknown target. As the attack on Grot's legs proceeds, to little effect, Falas commands her army to stand firm and fight on.

A message from afar resonates in Grot's brain, and Lifprasil soars in on the back of Oevadia, challenging Grot to a duel. As he waits for a response, allowing the rest of the horde to dismount from Grot, Lif encounters Falas, and they briefly introduce themselves and exchange tactics. Falas commands her angels to turn their attention to the grounded horde, and Lif promises numbers support.

Tira, having finally made her way to the ground, finds Fencer's still-breathing body. Flux momentarily joins them, gently telling her not to give in to despair, and Fencer hands her their weapon with a cheerful heart despite their grievous wounds. Tira takes up the weapon and rides one of the remaining Urtelem back into the ground battle.

The horde strikes, first with the Order of Lakshmi, from which Tira manages to steal a knife. There is a lot of shouting and blood. Lifprasil dismounts Oevadia in the air, allowing it to run its own havoc among the horde, while he fights Grot hand-to-much-larger-hand with his divine sword Beast.

Bez receives the blessing of Vestec and is made a Hero, calling the horde to fight on. With his newfound powers of chaos, he tosses Flux's swarm into disarray and allowing them to target the Angels with elemental magic. Both Falas and Tira notice this, Tira rushing to fight him and Falas attempting to blast him with holy energy, but Lifprasil falls nearby after getting a healthy slap from Grot and throws her aim. Falas notices Tira and lets her handle the issue.

Tira and Bez fight. Tira survives, predominantly through sheer luck, receiving wounds. Between her and her Urtelem mount, Bez's arm is damaged beyond repair. He swears unholy vengeance upon her and her kind.

Bez is knocked out from a combination of a half-blind Urtelem and blood loss.

Then, under the command of Lakshmi, the armies of Lifprasil arrive on the battlefield to support the angels.

Grot immediately attacks the newcomers, roasting a portion of them before a laser from Lakshmie causes him to stumble back.

Grot, wounded once again, is invaded by Lifprasil and Falas as they enter his body with the intention of killing whatever is healing his wounds and then him, all from the inside.

Grot, becoming angrier and angrier starts lashing out randomly with his magic, killing anything in his radius. Hundreds die.

Belvast teleports Grot to the ocean, as Lifprasil battles and slays the creature inside Grot, and Falas drills a hole to his heart.

Grot, dying and thrashing in the ocean, is calmed by Lifprasil's emotion magic, finally giving into death and sinking beneath the waves. Lifprasil eats his essence.

The survivors of the battle begin to gather their wounded, the Lifprasilians heading home while Lifprasil himself, Tira, and Falas all go to the Nice Mountains.

Vestec saves Bez (ripping off the troll's damaged arm and healing the stump.) and a portion of the Horde, taking a piece of Grot and his creature with him. The remaining members surrender and offer their loyalty to Lifprasil, by virtue of killing the strongest Chaos warrior they knew.

Heroes Rise - An Overwatch Inspired RP

Woot done!

Christopher Mozrick

Christopher Mozrick

Sergeant

---

"Breach and clear."

---

The Basics

Name

Christopher Mozrick

Nicknames

Soldier Boy.

Code Name

Sergeant

Age

28

Birthdate

July 5

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Straight

Role

Offense

Digging Deep

In-Depth Appearance

Christopher stands at 6' 2" and has brown hair and grey eyes. He prefers wearing a uniform of a long-sleeved black logoless shirt as well as long pants and gloves, which acts both as body armor thanks to the properties of the cloth as well as his usual set of clothing. This attire allows him to be prepared for combat at all times as well as not standing out too much among the general public. In a proper battle, though, or whenever he is at work, he dons additional armor, though mainly just a vest and arm and leg pads in order to maintain his speed while staying protected. Underneath his long clothing, however, are cybernetic limbs that have replaced both his legs.

Habits and Quirks

• Always appears to be calm and serious.
• Never turns down a challenge, even if they are jokes.
• Tends to treat Mechs better than people.
• Often seen holding a weapon of some sort.
• If he's not holding a weapon, then he's usually working out.

Likes

• Silence.
• A job well done.
• A challenge.
• Staying active.
• Equipment maintenance.

Dislikes

• Laziness.
• Failure.
• Drugs and alcohol.
• Distractions.
• Overly cheerful people.

Fears

• Getting complacent.
• Failing on the job.

Personality

Christopher is a soldier through and through. He believes orders are absolute and will do his best to follow through each one to the letter. He does not take kindly to foolishness, and takes all matters seriously. He understands the concepts of things like jokes and banter, but prefers not to engage in such acts himself. He does try to establish somewhat friendly relations with others, but he will not even try to tolerate them if they do not at least succeed at their jobs. Funnily enough, Christopher always accepts a challenge, regardless of what it is or if it was merely a joke, and refuses to back down until he has won.

Origins

Background

Christopher was born in a poor neighborhood with his father who was an ex-soldier who was dishonorably discharged from the army. Every day had been a struggle to survive, barely able to make ends meet as he constantly sought for jobs. Once he turned 18, though, he immediately signed up for the Army, where he put all of his effort into it. His work paid off, and he was soon one of the Paladin Coalition. During one mission, though, Christopher was caught in an firefight that resulted in his legs getting blown off by a stray grenade while he was caught off guard. His legs were replaced, and it was 2 months before he was cleared for combat again, during which he swore he wouldn't make such a mistake again. Back on the battlefield, he proved to be even more of a threat to the Emperors Entente as he cleared mission after mission. Despite his successes, though, he was only one man, and even he was hard pressed in his missions, sometimes failing despite his best efforts.

It was then that the Sentinel Program was created, and Christopher was one of the first few choices for it. Working together with his comrades, they succeeded when most people failed, and soon the war was over. Of course, because it was now peacetime, Christopher was now out of a job. Even when he tried to go back to the Army, he was dismissed, leaving Christopher to find a new job. Fortunately, he was able to receive a rather high-paying job offer as a personal bodyguard for an influential Mech who had heard of the feats of the Sentinel Program and was keen to get his hands on a ex-Sentinel. With no other alternative, he accepted. A small number of incidents occurred during Christopher's employment, but Christopher was able to protect his VIP. Along the way, Christopher and the Mech developed a friendship of sorts, being able to understand each others' feelings easily.

One day, Christopher received a message about the Sentinel Program being reenacted. Of course, his initial response was to decline. He had a new job now, after all, and he was going to see it through. The Mech, however, urged Christopher to join the Sentinel Program once more. He and Christopher argued over the issue, and in the end, Christopher was "fired". The two said their farewells, and Christopher set off for the UN, returning to a job he once thought was gone forever.

Place of Origin

Los Angeles, California

Family

Samuel Mozrick: Father. Once worked as a janitor. Current whereabouts unknown.

Abilities

-Pulse Rifle: A rifle with a decent fire rate and high damage. Has a scope for more accurate shooting. Quick to reload as well.
-Sprint: Christopher dashes quickly, allowing him to reach his destination in a short period of time. He cannot use other abilities while sprinting.
-Flash: Christopher lobs a flashbang that will explode after a short time. Those caught in the explosion radius will be deafened for several seconds, while those that were looking at the grenade at the time of explosion will be blinded for several seconds.
-Vision (Passive): Christopher dons a pair of dark glasses (like sunglasses, but better) that prevents him from getting affected from the visual impairment of his flashbangs.
-Adrenaline (Ultimate): Christopher's perspective of time slows down for 6 seconds, allowing him to be quicker to react to certain events, among other things.

Weapons

-Pulse Rifle: Holds a 30-round magazine and deals decent damage at short and mid range. More difficult to hit things at long range, however.

Extra

My fav. Overwatch character is Bastion.

Heroes Rise - An Overwatch Inspired RP

Aw crap, I forgot I still need to finish mine.

Character dump

Christopher Mozrick

Sergeant

---

"Breach and clear."

---

The Basics

Name

Christopher Mozrick

Nicknames

Soldier Boy.

Code Name

Sergeant

Age

28

Birthdate

July 5

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Straight

Role

Offense

Digging Deep

In-Depth Appearance

Christopher stands at 6' 2" and has brown hair and grey eyes. He prefers wearing a uniform of a long-sleeved black logoless shirt as well as long pants and gloves, which acts both as body armor thanks to the properties of the cloth as well as his usual set of clothing. This attire allows him to be prepared for combat at all times as well as not standing out too much among the general public. In a proper battle, though, or whenever he is at work, he dons additional armor, though mainly just a vest and arm and leg pads in order to maintain his speed while staying protected. Underneath his long clothing, however, are cybernetic limbs that have replaced both his legs.

Habits and Quirks

• Always appears to be calm and serious.
• Never turns down a challenge, even if they are jokes.
• Tends to treat Mechs better than people.
• Often seen holding a weapon of some sort.
• If he's not holding a weapon, then he's usually working out.

Likes

• Silence.
• A job well done.
• A challenge.
• Staying active.
• Equipment maintenance.

Dislikes

• Laziness.
• Failure.
• Drugs and alcohol.
• Distractions.
• Overly cheerful people.

Fears

• Getting complacent.
• Failing on the job.

Personality

Christopher is a soldier through and through. He believes orders are absolute and will do his best to follow through each one to the letter. He does not take kindly to foolishness, and takes all matters seriously. He understands the concepts of things like jokes and banter, but prefers not to engage in such acts himself. He does try to establish somewhat friendly relations with others, but he will not even try to tolerate them if they do not at least succeed at their jobs. Funnily enough, Christopher always accepts a challenge, regardless of what it is or if it was merely a joke, and refuses to back down until he has won.

Origins

Background

Christopher was born in a poor neighborhood with his father who was an ex-soldier who was dishonorably discharged from the army. Every day had been a struggle to survive, barely able to make ends meet as he constantly sought for jobs. Once he turned 18, though, he immediately signed up for the Army, where he put all of his effort into it. His work paid off, and he was soon one of the Paladin Coalition. During one mission, though, Christopher was caught in an firefight that resulted in his legs getting blown off by a stray grenade while he was caught off guard. His legs were replaced, and it was 2 months before he was cleared for combat again, during which he swore he wouldn't make such a mistake again. Back on the battlefield, he proved to be even more of a threat to the Emperors Entente as he cleared mission after mission. Despite his successes, though, he was only one man, and even he was hard pressed in his missions, sometimes failing despite his best efforts.

It was then that the Sentinel Program was created, and Christopher was one of the first few choices for it. Working together with his comrades, they succeeded when most people failed, and soon the war was over. Of course, because it was now peacetime, Christopher was now out of a job. Even when he tried to go back to the Army, he was dismissed, leaving Christopher to find a new job. Fortunately, he was able to receive a rather high-paying job offer as a personal bodyguard for an influential Mech who had heard of the feats of the Sentinel Program and was keen to get his hands on a ex-Sentinel. With no other alternative, he accepted. A small number of incidents occurred during Christopher's employment, but Christopher was able to protect his VIP. Along the way, Christopher and the Mech developed a friendship of sorts, being able to understand each others' feelings easily.

One day, Christopher received a message about the Sentinel Program being reenacted. Of course, his initial response was to decline. He had a new job now, after all, and he was going to see it through. The Mech, however, urged Christopher to join the Sentinel Program once more. He and Christopher argued over the issue, and in the end, Christopher was "fired". The two said their farewells, and Christopher set off for the UN, returning to a job he once thought was gone forever.

Place of Origin

Los Angeles, California

Family

Samuel Mozrick: Father. Once worked as a janitor. Current whereabouts unknown.

Abilities

-Pulse Rifle: A rifle with a decent fire rate and high damage. Has a scope for more accurate shooting. Quick to reload as well.
-Sprint: Christopher dashes quickly, allowing him to reach his destination in a short period of time. He cannot use other abilities while sprinting.
-Flash: Christopher lobs a flashbang that will explode after a short time. Those caught in the explosion radius will be deafened for several seconds, while those that were looking at the grenade at the time of explosion will be blinded for several seconds.
-Vision (Passive): Christopher dons a pair of dark glasses (like sunglasses, but better) that prevents him from getting affected from the visual impairment of his flashbangs.
-Adrenaline (Ultimate): Christopher's perspective of time slows down, allowing him to be quicker to react to certain events, among other things.

Weapons

-Pulse Rifle: Holds a 30-round magazine and deals decent damage at short and mid range. More difficult to hit things at long range, however.

Extra

My fav. Overwatch character is Bastion.

Heroes Rise - An Overwatch Inspired RP

That sounds pretty good, in the middle of character creation right now.