The psychic energy slammed into Macrofracture's mind in a frenzy of froth and foam, with all the stunning power of a tsunami.
With all the cleansing power of a tsunami.
Alien voices were swept away beneath that onslaught, the psionic wave thundering down every pathway of the brute's mind. Tears leading to dimensions of organic horror slammed shut, orifices clamping moist lips against the invading energies. But where tangled lightning and splintered air was sufficient defense against bullets and steel, these very fractures could not hold against a purely psychic attack. Ancient hunger and tumescent need and ravenous desire and the frail voice of a man were all reduced to weak, mewling things, scrabbling for continued purchase on the world.
Macrofracture gazed at Mister Hysteria blankly, eyes the grey of dead fish. His hands still spasmed, open, close, open, close.
Julia's Plasma streams hit Cynic's staff with no effect. All weapons were built to be durable. The Night staff was as well. It would take a lot more firepower than Julia, Cynic, or everyone in the building combined to crack the weapon.
Cynic had finished charging his attack, by the looks of it, and was adding the finishing touches by building up and taking aim with the staff.
((This might be a bit much to ask, but can I get a rundown of exactly who's a hero and who's a villain? I'm kind of confused, and it'll be easier for me to post if I know what to attack >.>
)
((Target Lad is a (student) hero, Shinji- he's currently engaging Nataan and Pestilence. Pokin' Prodder is also in the portal room))
Target Lad simply shook his head. While it was true that the room was full of angry plantlife, it hadn't started growing out of the celing yet, and he had kept high and well out of its reach. Now he was facing... another plant. He made an aggravated noise and twisted out of the way of a barrage of thorns that it had flicked at him.
Huh... seems tha' all those bloody worthless 'obstacle courses' tha' th'gamesmaster is al'ays havin' us run are good for summat after all. he thought. Then again, I suppose I shouldna be surprised... I did ge' an "A" in tha' class for "boostin' m'aerial manoeuverability by seventy-nine percent, confirmed', whatever tha' means. The neck of the plantbeast stretched as it brought its snapping jaws up in a tremendous lunge at the airborne archer, and Target Lad took his opportunity. A arrow, burning like the heart of a newborn star, appeared in his hand, and he loosed it, a precisely-aimed shot for junction of neck and 'body'. Even a near-miss would scorch the plant-thing badly, at least in theory, reducing mobility and adding an environmental hazard of open flames feeding on the hyperaccelerated vegetable matter that now covered the floor.
The young archer wasn't entirely sure that setting the place ablaze was the best idea... but then again, it had been turned into a mock jungle, hosed down with high-pressure hyper-concentrated acid, and had dozens of holes poked in it with bone spikes and arrows. He shrugged, figuring that fire was probably the least of their worries in there by this point.
The 'glorp' noises from the other side of the portal sounded again, louder... and something that could loosely be termed an 'arm' thrust through, followed by the rest of a creature that could only be described as ambulatory snot. "Bugger." Target Lad muttered. "Hydra Men. Just what we needed, neh?" The first Hydra (large and purplish- probably a Man O' War) lurched clear of the portal, horking a glob of corrosive spit at Target Lad and trying to stomp on the Fly Trap. It was followed by others- a steady stream of Hydra Men of all sizes, driven to a berserk frenzy by the abrupt dimensional transition, the part plant, part acid, part open flame environment they now found themselves in, and the thunder of battle that roared through the compound as multiple superhumans clashed in the hallways.
"A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head." Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates
MA Arcs: #12285, "Small Fears", #106553, "Trollbane", #12669, "How to Survive a Robot Uprising"
OOC:
Demented Cynic, not to be confused with Commander Cynic, is a blaster and technically a villain.
"Crap." She said, jetting sharply to the left as Cynic aimed his staff. There was no way in Hell she was getting hit with whatever this guy was stocking in that thing.
As Target Lad went through his massive chain of attacks, Pestilence thought it a rather opportune moment to spray a blast of Acid at him just as his last arrows left his bow.
((...I don't know how else to elaborate that at the state of exhaustion I'm in.))
((I know I wrote a good-sized post, Sov, but Target Lad only fired one arrow that time... Unless you're referring to the previous post when he started spraying arrows all over the place, in which case... er... a little late, neh?))
"A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head." Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates
MA Arcs: #12285, "Small Fears", #106553, "Trollbane", #12669, "How to Survive a Robot Uprising"
((You fired off a lot of attacks though. This is placed at the end of it.))
((the only things that 'happened' in my post are:
Target Lad dodged a lot and fired a single arrow.
The Fly Trap fired a thorn barrage and snapped at Target Lad (sorry for the slight autoing, by the way, Devious).
A Man O' War came through the portal, spat at Target Lad and tried to stomp on the Fly Trap.
A bunch more Hydra Men charged through and started trashing the place.))
"A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head." Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates
MA Arcs: #12285, "Small Fears", #106553, "Trollbane", #12669, "How to Survive a Robot Uprising"
OOC:
Yes, but both that post and your previous post happened in a very short period chronologically, to me at least, it seems like there was almost no pause between attacks. That or a very small one. I think Soviet is firing AFTER you shoot your single arrow.
Mister Hysteria smiled.
There, thats more like, he said, Now, my friend. Lets see what youre all about.
He gazed deeply into the blank eyes of Macrofracture, mentally tunnelling deep into his subconscious, searching through his mind like a discarded scrapbook.
((mmph... both Brawler and Devious had reacted between my spray-arrows-everywhere post and my hydra-men-pop-out-of-nowhere post... there's at least a moment or two between the two posts))
"A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head." Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates
MA Arcs: #12285, "Small Fears", #106553, "Trollbane", #12669, "How to Survive a Robot Uprising"
Colors. There had been colors in the sky that day.
Andrew (or Andy - he liked it when people called him Andy) had the day off. He was planning on making some lasagna with fresh mushrooms and tomatoes, and then visiting his mother where she lived near the Gish. She always did like lasagna, even if she claimed that mushrooms gave her gas. Maybe she'd even forget to nag at him to find a nice girl and get married.
She didn't know. In her eyes, Andy was still her perfect little boy, clever and handsome, not some loser who worked as a lowly lab-tech at some Crey subsidiary and whose only romantic encounters involved monetary transactions and hairless boys barely out of high-school. But he will not think of that today. Today would be perfect.
Today, there were colors in the sky.
Magenta and green and crimson and gold had unfurled like banners across the east-side, throwing strange shadows across the old brick and boarded-up windows, across the hanging, grey laundry and the nervous laughter of children. It was Malaise, his power amplified by a device of brass and crystal, his tenuous hold on sanity broken by some psychic backlash from Sister Psyche. There was no doubt it was an important problem - the Freedom Phalanx was probably saving the world, or something like that, and Sister Psyche's powers were probably required for a far greater good.
But none of that mattered to the people of Eastside, King's Row. The colors entranced, and bewildered, and frightened, and worked their way into minds, ripping free their fears and their desires and their dreams. Malaise's nightmares galloped, trailing gossamer terror, paralyzing the neighborhood in a chromatic vice.
Some hero, or heroes, put a stop to that. Probably got himself a medal for it, or a badge, or some kind of tacky souvenir. Treats for dogs, to keep them doing what they do. The effects of the attack were temporary, the newspapers said. Within the week, the incident was next to forgotten.
When they found Andrew, he was already broken. They found him with his hands stuck deep into a casserole dish of week-old lasagna, the pasta reeking and already starting to crawl with maggots. They tried for a while to treat him, but when his health insurance ran out, so did their interest. They never found out why he reacted so strongly to Malaise's attack, nor did they connect him to the old lady who was killed in a botched mugging attempt twelve blocks away. Nobody came to claim him, and it was never clear why he was put into the psychiatric rehabilitation ward in the Zig, but no one questioned it.
Somewhere during this time, Macrofracture was born.
All this was history, ancient and irrelevant, but preserved in Macrofracture's mind pefectly like an insect in glass. Everything after was a wash of unthinkable foulness, where memory and thought lost cohesion beneath the caress of lightning pink as open flesh. Gaping orifices, slick and quivering, invited the intruding mind to forgetfulness and bliss, offering both perverse lusts and their satiation. The incomprehensible beings that lived beneath Macrofracture's dimensional surface laid traps even as they reasserted themselves through the axle of his memories, splitting deeper fissures in his mind, so the least mental misstep would spell horror and envelopment.
Quietly, his hands began once again to bleed organic light.
Cynic's Night staff exploded in a storm of neon red, starting as a small little ball and expanding into a tornado. Anyone who looked closely would see that the huge energy storm was really just an uncountable number of small energy razors, easily numbering well above the trillions. It was a rain of sharp pointy death, and it filled and swirled throughout the entire hallway. Each razor, although smaller than the head of a pin, carried enough explosive force in it to tear apart a tank. It was aimed at Julia, so she found herself right in the epicenter of the enormous assault.
Julia wasnt the only one in danger though, because the storm of red stuff was crashing against the walls and rebounding, filling the corridor and spreading. The attack was a targeted move, the Night staff filling all available space at the targeted location, so anybody in medium proximity of either Cynic or Julia were going to be attacked as well.
OOC:
Rain of Arrows, for those of you who didnt catch it.
((*shrug* Oh well. Waiting on Devious before I reply to the various happenings))
"A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head." Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates
MA Arcs: #12285, "Small Fears", #106553, "Trollbane", #12669, "How to Survive a Robot Uprising"
((Waiting on Khell myself. 
Also, RoA? Sounds more like Blizzard to me. 
))
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
OOC:
RoA is a targetted attack, and it is the best nuke in the game, at least in my opinion. Recharge in the 60s, normal nuke damage, and no crash of any kind.
The reason I chose this was because of the damage ticks that RoA uses, and because I've been watching way too much Bleach. In any case, I probably should have been clearer above. The storm is meant to vanish in about 3 seconds, which I neglected to mention. I'm sorry. >.<
((... Oh, I have nothing to add, I just wanted to be reply 69. ^_^
What, it's late? Gimme a break! 
Not like I have anything to reply to. ))
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
((Bwahaha. I know, I know, I'm sorry for holding yalls up, but I really don't want to lose Khell in another of his life holes. 
Also read your post again Dogma, and now I see it - for some reason it sounced more like a tornado of C4 pellets at first, but then I realized you wrote 'force'. My bad.))
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
OOC:
*Breaks the forth wall*
Cynic: anybody want kag? ^.^
((OOC: After reading some of this (probably about 3 pages out of 8), I'd like to ask. What is this thing about?))
OOC:
Uh...Nothing.
Let me check to see if I missed something.
*scans*
Nope. I can promise you, with some satisfaction, that there is no plot. ^.^ Have a lei and join in the fun.
"... Damn." She said, suddenly throwing her arms up in front of her face and summoning a spherical shield around her. It was transluscent with a tint of blue, allowing her to see what little there was to be seen outside of the bubble.
Many heroes knew it as a 'Personal Force Field', but in truth, it was far less useful. It could only hold out against anything for about ten seconds. Only just enough time to get away. And, for lack of knowledge about its limited time, get away Julia did.
She took off, blasting out the door and waiting just outside until signs of the killer storm ceased.
Macrofractures hand touched Mister Hysterias chin as he realized too late that this wasnt some technician he had run into. The frail psychic pulled back as they connected. Sharp voltage tore through Hysterias body. He pulled away, tingling painfully. The mental link he held with Doctor con Vulse dimmed as his concentration was momentarilly fried.
Hysterias legs could not find the coordination to run and he was left with the horrifying prospect of having to fight. Focusing his power on Macrofracture would mean he would lose contact with the Doctor. As the lunatic brute lurked closer, Hysteria made his choice.
O-okay, buddy," he stammered, Y-you asked for it!
Mister Hysteria lost sight of the Doctors activities as he ran into Cynic and Julia. He gazed at Macrofrature willfully as his mental powers commanded the menace to freeze in place.