Release of Voidus

[Grey Knight]

Drako grunted as the wave of warpfire engulfed him, momentarily blinding him overloading his armor's cooling mechanisms. Vulkan's sons didn't burn easily, though, and the fire dissipated before he could be seriously hurt.

But then something slammed into him, reaching through his armor and into his body, and he blacked out before the pain could register in his brain.

-----------------------------------

With so much metal incorporated into the Space Marines armor and augmentations, the effect of Riathor's Duralumin Steel-Push was catastrophic. The ones closest to the epicenter blacked out instantly with the force of it, their armored forms smashing through Ghostbloods as they went flying. The ones farther away suffered broken limbs and falls, which left them vulnerable to the Ghostbloods around them.

Drako went flying, straight through the detainment unit and into the barrier behind it.

@Voidus @Ark1002

[Voidus]

The detainment unit gathered back together, something solid had passed straight through it, briefly scattering its Aons. It managed to pull itself back together but its alignment was off, causing several key sections of its Aonic programming to fail. And the Dor continued to drain from it, flowing to other areas of the battle as injured Elantrians and Dhakor monks began to draw on its powers to withstand the barrages of energy that were being hurled in all directions.

The detainment unit struggled to remember the correct protocol for this situation, someone else had physically hit the barrier, but were they attacking it? Was it supposed to detain this person or kill them? Or was this one of the occasions it was supposed to serve tea at?

No, it was functioning as a detainment unit for now, it had a mission. But what was it again?

Its Aons grew dimmer, the misalignment causing them to fade even faster now as they were unable to serve their purpose. It needed to merge back with the barrier, but it couldn't. There was someone it needed to stay with, someone that it needed to take... somewhere.

It watched the chaos around it in silent confusion.

Why were these people attacking each other? Why were there bodies littering the ground?

And now, beginning to loom over the battlefield was the storm-front of the Alleystorm, less than a minute away now. Oddly silent for something so powerful it flew towards Alleycity, almost at the outskirts now.

The detainment unit couldn't remember if that was good or bad.
 

Quote

Looks like things are starting to wrap up with everything now so I'll probably post the release proper in another day or two, let me know if people need to wrap up anything that will take longer but we want to try to get on to the next Era ASAP.

 

[Archer he/him]

Mace heaved a charred corpse off his chest, pushing it aside so that he could stand up. The fire had caught him off-guard, but fortunately it had not killed him. The parshendi he had been fighting had not been so lucky.

All around him, clothing and bodies alike lay on the ground, burning. A bright red cape lying on its own nearby caught his eye. It had obviously been wrested through violent means from its owner at some point, as it was tattered along the edges and had been cut in places. It would make a good blanket, he thought, unconsciously making it way towards it. I need a rest.

In the distance, he heard someone scream in pain. Shaking his head, he fought down the urge to take a nap, drawing on some of his stored wakefulness. I’ve got a job to do. Focus on stopping them.

With effort, he raised his head and scanned the vicinity. A pair of windrunners were engaged in a fight above him, but a coinshot was moving to join them, so Mace moved on to looking at the next closest target. It happened to be an armoured space marine. That was no good, he didn’t know whose side they were on today. His eyes panned away, and that’s when he saw her.

She was decapitating a wolfhound with a shardblade when he saw her. He couldn’t see her face through the visor of her distinctly feminine shardplate, but he immediately fell in love nonetheless. She turned her head towards him and raised her sword in salute. In return, Mace grinned broadly, excreted sweat uncontrollably, then tripped over the parshendi body and fell on his face.

When he looked up, she was racing towards him with her weapon raised. Mace checked over his shoulder to see what she was charging at. There was no one nearby.

The woman yelled something. The red cape Mace had seen earlier suddenly wobbled, became impossibly rigid, and lunged at Mace’s head. It enveloped him, squeezing mercilessly.

On top of all that, the rioter in the Shardplate chose that moment to change tack, enhancing his feelings of fear instead of those of love.

Mace panicked. He thrashed, scratching at the cloth on his face. Instinctively, he drew everything he had from his chromium metalmind. For a few seconds he became incredibly lucky. He clearly felt the pencil he thought he had lost in his back pocket, realized he had more stored energy than he expected, and managed to get his hand underneath of the aggressive cape attacking his face. The cloth squeezed that too, trapping it next to his cheek, and his luck ran out before he had time to remove it. This is how I die, he thought forlornly.

As his jaw broke under the relentless pressure, he heard the woman come to a stop next to him, presumably so she could pick the best place to stab him. Realizing he moments away from death, Mace did the only thing his frenzied mind could think to do. Everything.

He cried out in pain as his senses heightened. His brain kicked into overdrive trying to make sense of the chaotic mess of sensory inputs he had coming in. His weight doubled, then tripled, then kept steadily increasing. With renewed strength, he managed to move his hand, ripping a hole in the red cloth. The cape started burning, as did Mace’s clothes as he began heating up exponentially. A random memory of a volcanic eruption started playing in his mind. Capping it all off, he felt the most awake he had in years. He was tapping all of his basic metalminds and it felt amazing.

To her credit, Mace’s attacker reacted quickly, pushing her shardblade down towards his heart. But Mace wasn’t there anymore. With a great crash, he fell downwards, smashing through several feet of piping and concrete, landing in the sewer below. A massive burst of superheated steam rose up out of the hole, frightening the Shardbearer. She danced backwards out of the way. By the time she checked back, Mace was nowhere to be found. After a moment of peering into the darkness below, she shrugged, then left.

Hugging the top of the sewer roof where he was Pulling on some exposed steel reinforcements, Mace breathed a sigh of relief. He’d stopped tapping anything but his gold and cadmium metalminds, but he still felt like he had been injected with adrenaline.

That shouldn’t have happened, he reflected as he looked at the way he had come in. This section almost looks like it’s been weakened. Like some localized tremor or errant blast happened to hit this exact spot and made it possible for me to break through it, even only at mid-level heaviness.

Pensive, he Pushed his way out of the hole, back up to ground-level. He consciously set off in the opposite direction than the one his attacker had gone in. That was horrible, he decided. But maybe I’m luckier than I thought I was.

[Kidpen he/him]

Detran watched as the violence between one man and a Shardbearer began to escalate. Hopefully whoever ended up winning the fight would be vulnerable to his attack. However he soon watched in disappointment as the Shardbearer gave up and left, the man simply running away. Making a split second decision, he ran in the direction of the man, hoping to gain more power than he would attacking the Shardbearer.

@Archer

Quote

Sorry for taking a while to attack.

 

[Archer he/him]

Quote

Nuuuuu! Don’t eat me. If you wait long enough, my bigger brother Voidus will came along. He’ll make for a much better meal.

Yay! Time to die! Good luck, Kidpen.

Mace was in the midst of mentally taking stock of what reserves he had left when he noticed Detran approaching him at a run. Cursing, he quickly downed his last vial of metal flakes and tuned to face him.

He doesn’t look too tough, Mace thought as he sized his future opponent up. Wary of a trap, he looked around for snipers or accomplices of the man. There were others of his kind in the area, but none of them seemed interested in him. That left him with some room to maneuver.

Mace tried to gauge how long it would take the man to reach him. No time to make an amberite pit trap with the hole. But I can make something else. Mace’s gauntlet had long since shattered, so he set about growing a small shield with his aether. On a whim, he made the bottom of it pointed so it could be used offensively if need be.

Let’s see how he reacts to being stonewalled. Mace bent his legs, holding his shield out in front of his chest. His free arm he moved upwards to protect his face, using a modified boxing stance. He increased his weight by half, normally he would have doubled it, but he was trying to use it sparingly, and improved his stability by anchoring himself by Pushing and Pulling lightly on the metal pipes underneath his feet. He was applying one of his favourite techniques. He was already a hard man to move, but with enough preparation he could take a punch without flinching. That tended to surprise people who thought he would buckle under their assault, leaving them open to a counter-attack.

He tried to guess what his opponent would do. Fake for the legs, then go for the head? Vice versa? Smash the shield? It had been a while since he had last fought a Dakhour monk. He had vague memories of them being strong and fast, but he couldn’t remember any specific tactics they used. He made a mental note to check his copperminds after the fight.

As a precaution, he checked his gold reserves. He had been burning through them at an alarming rate due to all the times he hadn’t been able to swallow one in time to compound it, but he felt confident he had more than enough to heal himself if his attacker stabbed him or got in a good hit.

Unless he has aluminum. Suddenly struck by a nagging doubt, Mace decided a backup plan wouldn’t hurt. If he makes it, I can take the hit, but why make it easy for him? So, as when the man got close, Mace Pulled on the few nearby sources of metal available. An assortment of knives, bent coins, and pieces of armour flew towards him. A few hit his skin and drew blood. Unperturbed, he then fired the dozen or so pieces of metal at Detran, hoping to drop him before he even got close. With satisfaction, he noted that only half of them immediately crashed into the ground or went horribly off course.

[MetaTerminal he/him]

On 1/20/2019 at 5:21 AM, Ark1002 said:

The Dahkor watched his gun, his belt buckle, everything metal, fly. He felt his own body, felt the very iron in his blood ripping free. He felt pain like never before. This... this had to be the touch of a god. Only a god could do something like this. He shouted, crying out. "Dear Jaddeth, please, what have I done to deserve this? Please, please..." He felt the strength leave him, the iron in his blood coming out of his sides where it could. His bones had iron, but they were too strong to break. He was thrown away. "Please..." And then the fire hit him.

Something powerful pushed against Alum. His gun tore out of his hand as he aimed at the monk, who dropped him, and began to stagger away. He felt it too, something powerful pushing against him, as if his body was made of metal. He leaned against it, and managed to not fall.

Pyrus reshaped in his hands as a large shield and blocked the flames, and the heat wrapped around him, forcing him onto one knee. He screamed, and as the fire dissapated he spent a long time kneeling there. Far too long. He lost count by a little bit: five seconds away from forty, but was it forty-five or thirty-five? 

He'd find out soon enough. Alum stood, something jabbing in his stomach and causing him to limp, and called out to the detainment unit. There was little time to find a serum. He would have to hope that Voidus could heal him.

[+Ark1002]

The monks blood boiled. A red haze filled his vision as he staggered up, towards the unaware Alum. He grabbed a knife from a corpse, watching as his skin ripped off his arm. He knew he was dying. He somehow couldn't make himself care. There was only one thing he wanted. To kill Alum, to watch the light leave his eyes. He pushed forward, skin falling. His clothes were ruined beyond recognition, and he could barely see. Blood, bones, reddened eyes, he looked the stuff of nightmares. A few inquisitors began to float down to him, as they had steel pushed away before the blasts, but when they got closer, the went elsewhere, picking off survivors with coins. They didn't want to deal with the demon the flames had created. He could feel his mind slipping away from him. HA HA HA HA HA HA WhY dId YoU lEaVe Me KIlllllllllllllllllllllll WHY DOES LIFE ALWAYS BECOME HELL Kill Nooooo, no, please. Alum. Evereything dies Insanity will be the tool. He grinned, blood filling the mouth, running down his destroyed body, his very face coming apart at the seams. He grabbed a juice from his belt, the heated glass burning what was left of his fingers. He poured it on the knife. It would cause complete insanity, starting with hallucinations, progressing to a loss of memories and the hallucinations, eventually leaving him with a broken mind, little more then an animal, and a vague sense he had been something. He crawled behind Alum, and the speed and strength helped him again. He shoved the knife towards Alum's back, on a path that the unaware man would have it puncture no vital organs, though he might eventually bleed out. The strength, the speed, made it powerful, near unblockable. And the man couldn't see him.

@MetaTerminal

[Sherlock Holmes he/him]

Quote

28 minutes ago, Ark1002 said:

WHY DOES LIFE ALWAYS BECOME HELL

This I am still asking myself.

 

[MetaTerminal he/him]

22 hours ago, Ark1002 said:

The monks blood boiled. A red haze filled his vision as he staggered up, towards the unaware Alum. He grabbed a knife from a corpse, watching as his skin ripped off his arm. He knew he was dying. He somehow couldn't make himself care. There was only one thing he wanted. To kill Alum, to watch the light leave his eyes. He pushed forward, skin falling. His clothes were ruined beyond recognition, and he could barely see. Blood, bones, reddened eyes, he looked the stuff of nightmares. A few inquisitors began to float down to him, as they had steel pushed away before the blasts, but when they got closer, the went elsewhere, picking off survivors with coins. They didn't want to deal with the demon the flames had created. He could feel his mind slipping away from him. HA HA HA HA HA HA WhY dId YoU lEaVe Me KIlllllllllllllllllllllll WHY DOES LIFE ALWAYS BECOME HELL Kill Nooooo, no, please. Alum. Evereything dies Insanity will be the tool. He grinned, blood filling the mouth, running down his destroyed body, his very face coming apart at the seams. He grabbed a juice from his belt, the heated glass burning what was left of his fingers. He poured it on the knife. It would cause complete insanity, starting with hallucinations, progressing to a loss of memories and the hallucinations, eventually leaving him with a broken mind, little more then an animal, and a vague sense he had been something. He crawled behind Alum, and the speed and strength helped him again. He shoved the knife towards Alum's back, on a path that the unaware man would have it puncture no vital organs, though he might eventually bleed out. The strength, the speed, made it powerful, near unblockable. And the man couldn't see him.

As he began to stand Alum felt a knife slam into his back, somewhere in his lower abdomen. His eyes went red for a moment, and on a sluggish instinct he turned around, Pyrus morphing from a shield into a blade in his hand, and swiped at his attacker. Then he fell backwards, and landed on his side. The ground nudged the dagger still stuck in his back and he screamed, the hot glass sizzling at his flesh. 

@Ark1002

[+Ark1002]

Quote

Have fun, hallucinations will kick in in about three seconds

They're based on the things around you, made a hundred times scarier and darker. The demonic bloody mess singing isn't going to help.

The monk felt the shield hit him. He flew back, blood flowing freely. He laughed maniacally, watching Alum writhe. Pain, pain, pain. He grabbed at the man's leg with his bloody, mangled hand, his voice coming out in a grating, hysterical sound, but resembling a tune. "Hush little baby, don't you cry." The bloody grin spread over his face, his voice becoming deeper, then higher, a demented, insane sound, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the cries of a turkey at slaughter and a cackling witch.. "Daddie's gonna sing you a lulaby!"

@MetaTerminal

[MetaTerminal he/him]

18 minutes ago, MetaTerminal said:

As he began to stand Alum felt a knife slam into his back, somewhere in his lower abdomen. His eyes went red for a moment, and on a sluggish instinct he turned around, Pyrus morphing from a shield into a blade in his hand, and swiped at his attacker. Then he fell backwards, and landed on his side. The ground nudged the dagger still stuck in his back and he screamed, the hot glass sizzling at his flesh. 

@Ark1002

1 minute ago, Ark1002 said:

The monk felt the shield hit him. He flew back, blood flowing freely. He laughed maniacally, watching Alum writhe. Pain, pain, pain. He grabbed at the man's leg with his bloody, mangled hand, his voice coming out in a grating, hysterical sound, but resembling a tune. "Hush little baby, don't you cry." The bloody grin spread over his face, his voice becoming deeper, then higher, a demented, insane sound, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the cries of a turkey at slaughter and a cackling witch.. "Daddie's gonna sing you a lulaby!"

@MetaTerminal

Quote

Just a small correction. Also, if the blade hits your head/spine, it will probably kill you. The Dor is almost spent at this point.

 

[Kidpen he/him]

On 1/20/2019 at 3:21 PM, Archer said:

Mace was in the midst of mentally taking stock of what reserves he had left when he noticed Detran approaching him at a run. Cursing, he quickly downed his last vial of metal flakes and tuned to face him.

He doesn’t look too tough, Mace thought as he sized his future opponent up. Wary of a trap, he looked around for snipers or accomplices of the man. There were others of his kind in the area, but none of them seemed interested in him. That left him with some room to maneuver.

Mace tried to gauge how long it would take the man to reach him. No time to make an amberite pit trap with the hole. But I can make something else. Mace’s gauntlet had long since shattered, so he set about growing a small shield with his aether. On a whim, he made the bottom of it pointed so it could be used offensively if need be.

Let’s see how he reacts to being stonewalled. Mace bent his legs, holding his shield out in front of his chest. His free arm he moved upwards to protect his face, using a modified boxing stance. He increased his weight by half, normally he would have doubled it, but he was trying to use it sparingly, and improved his stability by anchoring himself by Pushing and Pulling lightly on the metal pipes underneath his feet. He was applying one of his favourite techniques. He was already a hard man to move, but with enough preparation he could take a punch without flinching. That tended to surprise people who thought he would buckle under their assault, leaving them open to a counter-attack.

He tried to guess what his opponent would do. Fake for the legs, then go for the head? Vice versa? Smash the shield? It had been a while since he had last fought a Dakhour monk. He had vague memories of them being strong and fast, but he couldn’t remember any specific tactics they used. He made a mental note to check his copperminds after the fight.

As a precaution, he checked his gold reserves. He had been burning through them at an alarming rate due to all the times he hadn’t been able to swallow one in time to compound it, but he felt confident he had more than enough to heal himself if his attacker stabbed him or got in a good hit.

Unless he has aluminum. Suddenly struck by a nagging doubt, Mace decided a backup plan wouldn’t hurt. If he makes it, I can take the hit, but why make it easy for him? So, as when the man got close, Mace Pulled on the few nearby sources of metal available. An assortment of knives, bent coins, and pieces of armour flew towards him. A few hit his skin and drew blood. Unperturbed, he then fired the dozen or so pieces of metal at Detran, hoping to drop him before he even got close. With satisfaction, he noted that only half of them immediately crashed into the ground or went horribly off course.

Detran frowned as his opponent grew a strange pointed shield and went into a fighting stance. As he ran, he formulated a plan of attack carefully in his head. There was no telling what this strange magic would be able to do, so if possible it would be ideal to avoid being cut by the shield. Ideally he could simply hit the shield and shatter it, but there was a very high chance it would resist the damage. The best chance would be able to hit him with enough brute force to knock him to the ground.

However, as he began squaring up to grab and pull him to the ground, several pieces of metal flew straight at him, some of which could potentially hit a spot that could cause real damage. He quickly lifted up his arms to catch the metal on his bones, completely ruining his form and forcing him to stop in his tracks. Feeling the metal stopping, he quickly put down his arms and pulled out his sword. He slashed for the man's head, but knowing that he would almost certainly lift up his shield in time, he put as much strength as he could into the hit in an attempt to break the shield.

Quote

I forget how strong amberite bonds are. You can roll dice to see if the shield or sword break if you'd like. Or you can just decide.

 

[Gancho Libre he/him]

Quote

Ay does someone want to kill Riathor?

I was going to leave him alive, in case MoHaam ever came back, but he's a little OP for, really, any Era.

I mean, he's a Mistborn Radiant with feruchemical gold.

But really, if anyone wants to kill him, just attack.

 

Riathor screamed as he was almost compressed into a tiny sliver of a man. There was just so much metal.

Then, his steel and Pewter ran out. It was all over. Stormlight sustained him.

And the Alleystorm grew nearer.

Riathor reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of metals, draining it in a gulp. Steel was restored, and he looked around, wary.

Bodies lay scattered around him. Only a couple of people still fought.

Riathor prepared duralumin.

[Archer he/him]

Quote

Sorry, I'm in the midst of dying, myself. 

Kidpen, I'll say that his amberite is strong, but brittle.

Mace reacted as expected, lifting his shield arm to block the blow. Unfortunately for him, Detran’s sword caught the amberite at bad angle. Instead of blocking the hit, the shield shattered. The blade smashed through it like a pick through ice, embedding itself in Mace’s hand. As if watching the sequence of events in slow motion, Mace saw with perfect clarity the moment when the metal bounced slightly, then slid backwards – raking the aether on his palm. For a second it looked as if it would deflect off that too. Then, with a loud crack, it shattered. Tiny fragments flew like shrapnel in every direction as, instantly, the remaining handle of his shield began to crumble away.

Throughout it all, Mace had hardly budged. Mutely, he stared with disbelief at his naked hand for a second, shocked. Then, as if jolted back to life, he felt a surge of anger rush through his veins. Growling primally, he pounced. His lunge had no finesse to it, but what he lacked in dexterity he made up for with rage. As if trying to give his attacker a hug, he thrust his arms forward, ready to crush the smaller man with his bare hands or squash him underneath his bulk.

Squeeze him ‘til he pops, came a thought. In his enraged state, it seemed logical enough to him. Common sense did kick in however, and he threw up a coppercloud on the off-chance he was being rioted again. But as he fell forward to wrestle to the man to the ground, his thoughts were mostly dominated by plans of battery.

[Gancho Libre he/him]

Quote

Well, I didn't mean you especially. I saw your posts.

I'll wait here till Voidus comes out, lemme tell you. Riathor is ripe for dying.

 

[Voidus]

Quote

Yeah there are going to be plenty of opportunities for people to die after the release. I can't promise that it will be a particularly glorious way to go but it's there if needed.

EDIT:
Ok at this point we're about a month over our intended end of era 2, not entirely unexpected but we have a number of players waiting to start playing at this point so we really need to wrap things up now.
This Friday I'm going to have the full release of Voidus happen, hopefully everyone can wrap stories up before then, if not we might have to just retcon some things, maybe have flashback sequences later to see what actually happened. But I don't think we can let this drag on much longer.

@MetaTerminal@Archer@Kidpen@#Voidapple

[Steel Inquisitive he/him]

Quote

I think I speak for a lot of people when I say...... WOULD YOU ALL JUST DIE ALREADY?!?!?!?!?

 

[+Ark1002]

On 1/21/2019 at 2:48 PM, MetaTerminal said:

 

Quote

Fixed

The monk felt the blade hit him, luckily only getting his leg. Blood flowed, and his leg wasn't even alive. He laughed maniacally, watching Alum writhe. Pain, pain, pain. He grabbed at the man's leg with his bloody, mangled hand, his voice coming out in a grating, hysterical sound, but resembling a tune. "Hush little baby, don't you cry." The bloody grin spread over his face, his voice becoming deeper, then higher, a demented, insane sound, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the cries of a turkey at slaughter and a cackling witch.. "Daddie's gonna sing you a lulaby!"

 

[MetaTerminal he/him]

Alum felt something grab his leg and he jerked upright, the knife shifting again and sending more pain squirming and clenching through his back. The monk was still standing, somehow, fueled by a kind of hate and rage that only the most dangerous opponents possessed. The kind that, when most others would accept their fate and lie down, kept going, in their complete and utter rage at the fact that they might be bested. Alum had seen them before in the Roughs. He had always hoped he would never see them again.

He guessed thirty seconds left, plus or minus ten on either side. The storm was almost upon them as well. They needed to open the barrier now. That meant ending the fight.

The bones of the creature blocked anything he attacked with it. But there were weak points consistent across most species, as least as he had found, and those were the eyes and the throat, which could not be protected for a number of physiological reasons. They also had the added benefit of killing the target instantly if you had a powerful weapon. And a Shardblade was a very powerful weapon.

The Blade morphed again in his hand, turning into a thin, sharp dagger, and he swept it towards the monk. He aimed for the throat. Adonalsium willing, he would not miss.

[Gancho Libre he/him]

Riathor turned as the sounds of fighting continued. someone appeared to be fighting a... Dakhor monk?

Well, regardless, Riathor needed them all to stop right not.

'Come on,' his spren urged. 'I want to show you something. Summon me,'

Riathor frowned, but understanding immediately flowing into his brain. He stretched out his hand, and his spren formed into a lance, easily fifteen feet long.

Its tip was just long enough to connect with the shardknife, knocking it aside. He dismissed his lance just as quickly as he formed it, then bellowed.

"EVERYONE!!!" he screamed. "WE MUST WORK TOGETHER! THIS BARRIER MUST NOT OPEN!!"

@MetaTerminal @#Voidapple

 

Edited January 23, 2019 by Gancho Libre

[MacThorstenson he/him]

Mac sat in his office, flipping through the backlog of mail. Apparently being dead for 16 years but not telling anyone means that they don't stop sending mail. Especially when 16 years is a pretty normal amount of time to be missing for in the DA.

After tossing a stack of outdated project funding requests into the incinerator, he walked back over to his desk where he looked at a nondescript white envelope. Ripping it open, he began reading, it was an automated alert from the World Spike Security System from back at the end of the seven day war. 

Lockdown procedures initiated. Max security mode in effect until Administrator authorization lowers the security level.

Inventory of contained beings:

Voidus              x1

The guardian   x1

Dropbear v5.2 x6*

Miscellaneous Bacteria and other harmless life forms.

* indicated containment in a sub container.

"Huh, so that's where Voidus went, well hopefully he's back soon, all this stuff is pili-  Wait a minute." Macs eyes widened. Voidus was the only admin, and he couldn't lower the security of the worldspike from inside the containment. It was a catch 22 that we realized existed a while ago, but kind of ignored because we wanted to science more.

"Chull. This is a problem." First off, Mac should have sorted through this stuff ages ago, second, he needed to find a way to lower the barrier. He could figure it out, but doing so would let voidus out. And that would probably result in trouble for Mac. 

Walking over to his desk, he pulled out a tablet with a live recording of the world spike. Crap. People were fighting around it, and it looked like they were trying to set Voidus free.

Chull chull chull chull. This can't be happening. Mac began to break out in a cold sweat. There were only two things that he feared. Voidus and drop bears. Voidus was about to be set free. What should he do?

[MetaTerminal he/him]

The knife was knocked astray, but not out of his hand. Twenty five, and fifteen, and thirty seconds all at once. Alum wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t be sure until the second he died.

“Listen here, friend,” he said. “If the barrier does not open, I will die. I will be killed by the Ghostbloods. The process has already started. I’m half dead. And all of my friends that your people slaughtered will have died in vain. I’ve spent close to a year preparing this. I’ve sacrificed more than you can ever imagine to get this close. So give me one good reason why I should even consider listening to you.”

He drew the hand with the knife back, and plunged it again towards the Dakhor’s throat, with twice as much speed and force.

@Gancho Libre @#Voidapple

[+Ark1002]

Quote

You know, the hallucinations would start by now, right?

He saw the knife fly towards him. And it was deflected. Now, he had time to prepare. A gurgle of pain erupted from his mangled face. "You deserve all that death, that pain, you deserve anything you could ever get." The knife plunged down again. And he caught the arm, blood, bones, mangled flesh, intercepting him. "Die."

@MetaTerminal @Gancho Libre

[Gancho Libre he/him]

Riathor's eyebrows raised. Here was someone who wanted Voidus to get free.

Somehow, the world had gone bonkers in the months he spent in a cave.

Well, Riathor tried to preserve his sanity, and letting this man get what he wanted would undo all his good effort to that cause. Thus, he burned Brass focusing on the man who had the shardknife.

Then, he burned the last of his duralumin, soothing away the entirety of the man's emotions. Riathor had heard it was an unpleasant experience.

"Do as I say," Riathor said. "This is madness. Stand down, or..." he paused. "I will be forced to use powers I do not fully understand,"

@MetaTerminal @#Voidapple

[Voidus]

Quote

1 more day

Also, at this point both the barrier and the detainment unit are going to be a little unreliable and unpredictable so happy for other people to godmod them into doing whatever.