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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Previous Thread:




Equipment FAQ:


Oblivion's Husk: (Updated TERRIBLE SWIFT SWORD, for better clarity.)


Player List:


Episode Guide (All credit to Watashiwa & an unknown Anon):


Yui IF scene (Adult content):


Twitter: https://twitter.com/JokerQuestOP


The death of Rust Kaiser is an abrupt thing, an impossible truth made manifest. Between one heartbeat and the next - Between the charging of the Singularity Cannon, the last wisps drawn into the yawning abyss - the world begins to move again.

Light returns, first. Not the sickly light of Alura's inferno, or CHERNOBOG'S furious discharge; but true light, a harsh grey illumination like the exhalation of a metal god. It issues from the Memory Towers, all sharp-angled black iron and barbs, now - Crawling with power, jagged bolts of fitful lightning flickering across pitted surfaces.

The *snap* and crackle of flames gutters out to nothing, choking smoke swirling in the air from the Thief's charred form. The rush of air from the Singularity Cannon's implosion has ripped the cloak of flames from his back; He lies sprawled, the fabric of his ragged coat melted into him - his armor is black upon him, and his bones are burned with heat. The gnawing flames have turned his legs to ash, stripped the writhing muscle from his borrowed arm - His skeletal fingers rattling, as they grip the Fatal Abyss's blackened hilt.

The red pinpoints in his helm are flames, as - methodically, static hissing from his speaker-mask - the Thief reaches into his charred coat with a shaking hand, withdrawing injector vials. The adamant needles crowning the clear cylinders glitter dully, in the failing light - Within the heavy glass, raw Lachryma rills, churning in constant motion...


There is a gagging, choking roar. ANIMA reels back, hellish half-real black shape swirling, re-forming, writhing. Rotten gore spurts, as it rakes at itself with great claws - that vast maw swinging back and forth in frenetic motion as the Cryptid gouges at its own flesh. The vast beast convulses, with frantic inner motion - it is choking, gagging. Tumors bulge beneath the surface of the horror's leathery carapace, sickly wet sounds spewing forth-

The virus. It swallowed Distortion Haze's virus.

The creature's jaws hinge out, wide - A tooth-fringed opening like a chapel cave. Not swinging open to bite - They're swinging open because of the grotesque growth of muscle, of teeth, those jagged needle-fangs spearing into the Cryptid's palate. It *howls*, hard enough to made the air judder, the vast tonnage of its bulk grinding and scraping off the tiled floor. Noxious white froth spews forth, a great torrent of rank effluvium - Slitted eyes rolling in frantic agony, head smashing down hard enough to crack the ground underfoot, mere inches from Haze-

"Choke on it," Haze snarls, his free hand clutching the jagged stump of his severed arm. ANIMA reels, roaring and squealing and shrieking, tortured nerves sending contradictory messages through the Cryptid's unnatural form. It tries rising, but every inch of the vast predator's corded flesh is in open rebellion, muscles spasming and limbs twitching, thick bloody sludge vomiting forth from every orifice as it jerks and twitches and wails-

Well, I'm here this week.

I hope someone else will be.

The Cryptid is dying. The creature's flesh is already festering, already swelling, like the soft, expanding rind of a rotting fruit, about to burst with decay. Stinking yellow mucus oozes from the Cryptid's maw, every hissing breath fighting the sickening growth of the biological weapon it's swallowed-

-It knows. It knows what Haze has done to it. One vast sickle-clawed limb swings up, even as blood-blisters erupt across the surface, throwing a mutating shadow across his half-collapsed form, ready to wipe him from the face of the earth-

"Joker-" A voice, across the channel. A pained rasp, a sound of utter and helpless hatred. Less than a whisper, now-



There is a glow, beneath the fleshmetal carapace of his mutated armor. The *clack* of magnetic locks releasing, the sharp *chunk* of pistons firing. Like the spinner in a child's game, Rook's falchion skids across the floor towards you; His talons scrabbling against the ground, fighting for purchase, every instinct telling him to reel to his feet, to *fight*-

-But this is all he can do.

"-K̛͉̞̫̮ill ̙̳̝͓͇i̫̪t̬̹͕̼. *̨͍̣̙̬̭͈H͖̬͉̳̜̘͇ur͢t͏̥̹̞̞̟̙ͅ*̨͇̘͍͕ͅ ̢h̻̗̭e̛r̝̗̤.͇̱͙̠͡"

HP: 45.8%

Well, seems like I'm the only one here so far.

Reading over the last thread, the most sensible suggestion was to maintain our distance from Anima and hit it with the Nova Cannon.
Additionally, we should hold Omen in our other hand. Even if we don't need it immediately, the evasion bonus is nice.
Reposting suggestion from the last thread:

>Right, so we can't take anymore hits. I suggest using the Nova Gun to pop the middle of the dying Anima while at the same time, boosting forward and using our other hand, holding Omen, to slice off Anima's hand at the wrist. Use the communicator to tell Daegal to keep pressure on Alura and provide ranged support to give Haze a moment to recover/get his bearings and move to support him.
A reminder that we're horrible people.
Sounds sensible. We are low on health in the first place, so keeping our distance would be in our best interest.
Does Daegal still have a ranged weapon?

If yes, ask him to distract Alura.

Use our Abruption Jets to boost to Anima and grab Haze during our race-by, to get him away from Anima.
TAU is unlikely to cause Anima to flinch.


Use Fortress mode to wrap Anima's face.

The Cryptid's stark shadow, looming over Haze's mutilated form - It swells in your sights, your HUD lighting up with the golden chime of a target lock-

Red light flares. The Vector Trap's hypersphere disgorges the blocky, blunt ingot of the Tau Gun, your fist clenching around the grip. Micro-scale suspensors hum, as the tracking laser sizzles across the distance, a burning green tracer that sears into the Cryptid - Dark vapor hisses from the wound, but ANIMA is so tormented by the riling agony that racks it on a cellular level, as Haze's virus rips it apart from within, that it doesn't even notice.

"Bastard-" Haze gurgles, his damaged speakers blurred with static - On his belly, he rills forward, like a worm. His remaining arm claws at the ground, as sparks fly from the ruins of his armor; ANIMA's claws have punched into him, *through* him, rupturing vital systems - You can hear the hiss of toxins bleeding into the air, limps, stutters and jerks juddering through his form. He raises his hand in a gesture of primoridal defense...

The Nova Cannon fires. The weapon's charging lights flicker, as it convulses in your grasp.

-A powerful linear distortion, invisibly fast-

The impact area is a ragged join on ANIMA's carapace, where foul chitin meets flesh. For a moment, it seems like the round does nothing at all to the hulking predator-shape, all lurching, twitching motion and razor-sharp scything claws...

-But only for a moment.

There is the sound of rupture. A sickening eruption. A huge gout of gore, erupting from ANIMA's back - Just above the spine, suppurating meat swelling, bulging outwards; Veins standing out stark and raw against the corded flesh, matter-to-energy-to-explosion-


ANIMA shrieks. The terrible crater in the creature's flank oozes filmy fluid, a spray of tissue and watery blood. It rears up, as blood and ichor and pus spurts from the wound - the keening roar is the worst sound you have heard in the entire day, made more so for the madness in it. It wheels, ragged skin-cloak swirling around it, a cackling wraith draped in tendrils of its own skin-

You had time for one shot. No more.

The Tau Gun clatters to the ground, wrenched away in the slipstream as the Abruption Jets hurl you forward, static thrusters hurling you forward with a force as blunt as a grunt of pain. Claws *hiss* as they slice the air, ten blades converging to rip you into a thousand pieces...

-But OMEN is in your hand, and the tachyon blade blazes with vengeful light as it comes up.

Your first swing carves through ANIMA's grasping hands - horribly human, like hands cut from the corpse of a rotting titan. Two curving talons - each a meter in length - splinter, as your two-handed swing hews through them; The stumps drooling pus, the Cryptid's maimed paw wrenching away as you hurl yourself into the longest impromptu dive of your life. Everything is cold and achingly clear, Rook's falchion incandescent with smoking green fire as you reel to your feet.

Without looking, you hurl yourself sideways, as ANIMA's spiked tail lunges for your back - It whips overhead, missing by inches, as you *slice*-

An inhuman shriek. The fanged, barbed length thrashes, as it hits the cracked ground - vile smoke jetting from the crackling edges of the cut, spasming like a serpent in its death-agonies. The edges of your HUD blur, a split-second premonition that keeps you a step ahead of the thrashing blade-limbs that scythe air, the biting maw that chases after you, drooling acidic spittle-

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>as you hurl yourself into the longest impromptu dive of your life
By the way, are we still carrying two heavy weapons?



The Cryptid is dying. Haze's awful poison is eating it away from within. The gore-streaming crater in it's back squirms with tendrils of flesh - sloughing away, dying, before they can even form. Something is going catastrophically wrong, on a genetic level; Bone spurs pushing out from the creature's flesh, splintering anew as it drives itself after you.

And just for good measure, Haze shoots it in the back.

Haze's primary weapon is a Plague Gun - It fires solid tiles of contact toxin, milled to a monofilament edge. Each squeeze of the trigger is a burst of up to eight monomolecular flechettes, tailored to dissolve on impact. He has molecular acid, to wreck havoc on delicate internal systems - hypertrophic serums, to make a Player's myomer musculature rip off the skeleton and burst the target from within.

What he pumps into ANIMA - In at least three wild, riocheting shots - is a direct analogue of nerve toxin.

The Plague Gun spits three flechettes through the Cryptid's flesh. Dark slits, welling gore in extravagant quantities, kick out a crescent of foul blood on impact - But that is almost inconsequential, compared to the venom load.

ANIMA shrieks. The sound that blitzes from it cracks the crystalline surface of the manifold towers. It shudders, writhing back - the shuddering, snorting bulk convulsing with such terrible violence, you actually *hear* bones snapping. It howls, noxious white froth boiling out from that biting maw, teeth snapping shut so suddenly the creature's lashing tongue is severed-

And as it tries to turn its injured head away, you drive OMEN directly into one of those burning red eyes.

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>And as it tries to turn its injured head away, you drive OMEN directly into one of those burning red eyes.
Rook's face when.

(OMEN: http://pastebin.com/8fWB8t8Y)

The howl of distress rattles your optics in their helm. A thick bloody sludge vomits from the Cryptid's maw, as it jerks and twitches and snarls, all thrashing limbs and spasming muscle - Flinging that pagan-horned head from side-to-side with a blind, all-consuming violence, the blank fury of a creature that *knows* it is dying, longing only to drag it's killers down to death with it-

But the Cryptid's flesh is a web of wasted muscles and suppurating sores, cascade gaps punched through to rotten bone and cancerous organs. Your blade wrenches sideways, shearing through half of ANIMA's skull - The creature's eyes slopping jelly-like, in pools of bile and pus. The virulent growth is turning the monster into a nightmare of haemorrhaging disorder, scales spiralling away with every motion as bitter tendrils of virus push into the surrounding tissue...

-When it crashes over, limbs stiff with rictus, folding in on itself, shuddering in death-agony, Alura screams, too.


> Does Daegal still have a ranged weapon?
> If yes, ask him to distract Alura.

The Condemner hisses and spits with quicksilver blood, clattering to the ground as Alura hurls it aside - Delicate hands pressed to her mask, as she doubles over; The last vines sloughing away from Daegal at last, the black roses opening and closing like mouths as she wails, light bleeding from her mouth, from her eyes.

It is a petulant scream of frustration and anger, as Alura sinks to the floor.

"You're ruining it!" she complains - Crying out again, a squeal of rage and pain. "Joker-kun, you're ruining everything! You're spoiling it all!"

>"Joker-kun, you're ruining everything! You're spoiling it all!"
"Let's see if I can also ruin your face again, bitch."


From where he's fallen, Daegal hauls himself upright. He doesn't spare you a glance - Across the Dirac channel, all that comes across is the rasping sound of Kazuya's breathing; Raw, in pain, but utterly focused. The Arsenal Beacon glows, schematic lines sketching themselves into existence-

And Daegal's fists close on the grips of an Autocannon.

He levels it at Alura, at the small, crumpled figure, curled onto herself - In unconscious imitation of the great Cryptid, fangs locked in a rictus as it dissolves.


The multi-barreled cannon is wedged against Daegal's hip, as the Talons in his armor engage - Locking down, bracing the weapon steady, the munition feeder coiling back, fat and heavy, into the hopper.

A jumping lick of burning gases flickers around the rotating barrels, and gunfire spews forth. The storm of shots brackets Alura, ripping across her - On either side, tiles explode. The hail of fire chews through the slowly-rotating Memory Towers, peppering her with crystal sharpnel, with coils of barbed wire. Smoke, blue and pungent, streaks the air as the chattering roar drowns out Alura's voice-

"Wha-" You hear it in his voice, a blurt of utter and unreasoning disbelief.

Not a single round hits.

Light swells. It cocoons Alura - A coruscating field of lightning, flickering, playing across her skin. The aura surrounds her, as if she wears her own personal storm. Each shot ruptures into little flattened discs of shockwave fire, becoming white, papery dust.

The air is filled with swirling ash, raining down like deep winter snow.

And suddenly, it is snowing.

Well shit, she's a proper boss fight after all.
Probably invulnerable until we kill Anima.

We are way too low on resources to win this fight. Especially with the fact that we already wasted two boss monsters worth of essence with "I win" buttons.
>look at joker quest again for the first time in what feels like a year
>fucking rust kaiser is only just dead
I am sure you guys have made an unholy amount of bad decisions since I last read through joker quest.
Which part did you last read?

We killed all the waifus, some not even our own. Turns out that sociopaths and bros are the most reliable people.
We were attacking some place and doing the crazy joker speech showing off our guns. Then we fought some bugs in an elevator or something.

Also, I knew all along those fucking waifu types were shits and trying to pull some bullshit.

> "Let's see if I can also ruin your face again, bitch."

She looks up. She looks past Daegal, at you.

Directly at you.

As if she can stare into your soul.

"I see now," she says, almost to herself. Blades of burning light - A mandala of emerald wings, impossibly delicate, impossibly intricate, like panes of forever glass - unfurl above and behind her, as Alura's black gown pools against the splintered ground. It *ripples*, flowing and sloughing, pouring off her but no running out or unravelling her exquisite dress.

"-That's why everything's going wrong."

Her dress is spilling out around her feet, forming a growing puddle. Violet light burns, great sigils etching themselves across the fabric - Each abominable, intertwined symbol bleeding into the air, written in liquid flame as they form one unholy rune then another.

"That's why - That's why, you have to die first."

"Joker-!" Haze's strangled shout breaks the silence - ANIMA is dissolving, black specks rising from the creature's tortured flesh like a blizzard of stars. Ablating into ash, rising from the great gouting wounds, the suppurating meat. Like smoke, filled with bright embers - precipitating, condensing, as it coils towards Alura.

"As long as you die first - Everything will be all right."

HP: 82.8%
METER: 36%

Oh, you barely missed anything.
We went through the elevator and then started fighting Alura, Rust Kaiser, Bell Zephyr, Calcite Arrow, Enfer and the machete girl whose name I forgot.
So far, only one of our team members has died. It also turned out that Alura just wants to be pretty and that she has some kind of ghost, called Anima, that's hidden behind her.
Only she and Anima are left.

Most of our gear got damaged. Cobalt Booster only charges 7% a round, for example, and the Scrander is junk.
We used the QSC on Kaiser, after using our new "switch places with someone" ability to make him kill Megumi, causing him to hulk out and transform into a flesh abomination.
Anon, I'm pretty sure he's referring to the Hive infiltration.
Well shit, we probably don't want to let her absorb Anima, right?
Could be. That iron ox guy was there. Might have been iron ogre. Had a big club and we fought him before going in.
Did she just absorb Anima? Including the parasites and toxins and shit that it was pumped full off?

Now that's what I call a trojan horse.

Can we infuse shit into Anima's essence while it's being absorbed by her?
Tell Haze to pump it full with everything he's got.
I'll look at our equipment to see what else we can use here.
Something reality-defying could likely harm Alura.
Also, remember that she's immune to codebursts.

Shit, I only skimmed and read "speech" and "elevator ride".
"It won't be, Alura. After all, Pazuzu has always had you in the palms of his hands. Right from the start, you never had a chance."
Consume Anima. Don't let Alura absorb it.
I mean clearly she saw it was just poisoned, sure she's frustrated but I don't think she'd take it into herself if that would affect her. She might be bating us into taking it first, but that seems unlikely.
Wait, Rubicante Entropic Wake. We have our finger back, right?

Right now she won't be moving. Use that chance to shoot a fucking reality-rippling shot into her face.

We could also fire Shroud shards into her storm. She might cut herself if her personal storm is filled with the stuff.

That's also a good idea.
If we cannot consume is, try Draw Forth. It should have some lachryma inside.

She's having a breakdown. We triggered her because we mentioned that we want to make her ugly again and now she just wants to kill us with any means possible.
She's not being rational.

Her outfit is likely like Cybele's amulet. Full of Nihl charge.
>We could also fire Shroud shards into her storm. She might cut herself if her personal storm is filled with the stuff.
Also, remember that Muleta now has a nano-poison effect.
It's another thing that we can make her absorb.

Poison Muleta and Entropic Wake sound good. Let's try that. Did Rubicante cost Health by the way?
Can we eat Anima with EXEC_Swarm's Koleos augmentation?

Entropic Wake costs health. Ordinary fire mode doesn't.
But we want full power here.
There should be lachryma in the area to heal use if needed. Plus, we gain health from damaging enemies.

(It costs health if you're going for the special shot, but keep in mind that you'll need to either burn Cobalt Booster or to wield both weapons at once. That rules out using EXEC_CONSUME this turn.)
We could also encase Anima in Fortress Mode, but I think having Alura absorb something filled with poisons and shit should happen.
>That rules out using EXEC_CONSUME this turn
Is Scylla dead?

I wonder of consuming the thing is a good idea. Haze's poison destroys essence. There should be nothing of value left in Anima.

(Dead. Both heads have been decapitated.)


> "It won't be, Alura. After all, Pazuzu has always had you in the palms of his hands. Right from the start, you never had a chance."

You are already moving, as coils of black smoke twist towards Alura. Blades rake out from your Assault Shroud, speeding across the distance - Each Shrike Blade slicing the air with a flickering hiss, splintering against the energies that cocoon her. They shatter, with an ugly metal-on-stone scrape, sparks flickering weakly from each point of contact as Alura stares at you through the slits of her helm, shapely lips of some dark metal pressing together in a thin line.

"It's *mine*," she hisses, low and sibilant. "-All of it, mine. My power, my *control*-"

"-I have *control*-"

The smoke swallows her whole, and she bursts into flame. All that ash, turned back into fire - Painting the chamber with the color of stars, seen through the smoke of a burning world.

Talons erupt from your Helix Gauntlet. They spit and crackle, as you lurch towards ANIMA - Even dying and blind on one side, spasming as it's essence is leeched away, it still has the strength left to unhinge that vast maw, swinging sidelong towards you for a great mauling bite-


You weave aside - Rank effluvium boiling against your armor, as ANIMA's gagging roar spews out chunks of the Cryptid's lungs - and drive the talons of EXEC_CONSUME into the bubbling, rotting wound you carved into the side of ANIMA's skull.


(Gentlemen, this anomalous result is worth mentioning: ANIMA landed a critical hit to Joker's head, which would likely have been hideously injurious if not for FATALISM. It's likely the strangest result I've seen this entire fight so far.)

There are shreds of tissue, with the Cryptid's ruptured flesh. Clots of meat, throbbing and pulsing. Dark, steaming gore splashes down darker armor, from under the rim of the snarling jaws; ANIMA's teeth bite down - and shatter, driven into rotting gums, tatters of flesh flopping against black-smeared teeth as the bruised, torn jaws fight to close, to bite you in half...

-But it is already crumbling, already dissolving. Not dead, but mortally stricken; Your Leech Module inhales the creature's agony, as the Nihl Sphere sizzled with flickering life, bolts of the Cryptid's furious essence drawn off, feeding directly into the cracked quartz orb...

Light blasts the world away.

>(Gentlemen, this anomalous result is worth mentioning: ANIMA landed a critical hit to Joker's head, which would likely have been hideously injurious if not for FATALISM. It's likely the strangest result I've seen this entire fight so far.)
I will never complain about Fatalism again.

The clamping jaws wrench away, teeth scraping and grinding against your armor - Releasing, abruptly, as you stagger back, biting fangs impaled in the metal like savage ornaments. The vile light that bleeds from Alura swells to engulf the world, with a triumphant thunderclap of sound-

There is a *crunch*. A low, seismic rumble. Huge chunks of stone - bigger around than you are tall, wrench themselves into the air; Like meteors, like tombstones, like huge funerary markers, hauled by the twisting black strands that bleed from Alura's rippling black gown...Or is that flesh? Ribbons of inky black orbit her, braiding and writhing like vines, as searing vines of golden light burn beneath her quicksilver skin.

"Holy *shit*-" Daegal manages - He's backing away, his cannon levelled, trying to keep every target at once in his sight...But never straying too far from where the Thief lies, with his one remaining arm, labored breathing rasping through his skull-helm as he moves with a slow, deliberate concentration-

Three injector vials, gripped between his fingers.


The Thief stabs them into himself. Adamant needles punch home, through armor, through the gaps in his ribs. The pure, concentrated Lachryma within them slosh, black and oily and viscous, as the plungers depress - the black oil riling as it floods into him-

"Akira, what the *hell*-"

Kazuya's distracted. His footing is off. The first meteor catches him in the side, and hurls Daegal directly into the sparking, seething barbs of a memory tower. It snatches him off his feet, whips him away with abrupt totality - And then there is the fiendish, crackling blast of the current, the eneverating charge searing into him, *through* him, as he thrashes in the grasp of fifty-thousand volts-



His Assault Shroud bursts into flames, as Daegal howls - A monotone vox-howl, his gauntlets clenching into claws as the snaking wire ensnares him, coiling around him in barbed garlands, cinching *tight* - moving with an animation that is utterly unlike anything you've seen before.

The second multi-tonne missile hurtles past you, and shatters. Stone shards flay the air, the raw force of the brutal collision sending cracks skittering across the barren ground. Shards zing out - Some of them punch through Haze, and he cries out; A yowl of distant and miserable agony. Hissing his frustration, Rook tries - fails - to wrench himself to his misshappen feet-

And all around you, phantom images push from the floor, the ceiling - Barely humanoid, composed of swirling black ash - as the burning scads of Daegal's cloak flutter down on all sides-

Every one is wearing Alura's mask.

I'm̴̩̺̜̲̫̳̬ ̡̖͙h̘̳͚̖͕e̸̗͕̪̹r̷̗̖̗͈̥̺e̙̤̰̘̤̜̜͟,̞͈̠̤͓͝ͅ ̸̯̲͕͇̭J͙͙͇́o̦̙̰͡k͏̙͉͉̱e͍͚̩r̢-̴̘
͖͉̭Ove̻̥̦̤͔ͅr̻̠̀ ̝̙̮̲̼̝h͇͢e̩̭̭̺̝re̬̞͕̯̠̰ͅ-͍͈̜͟
̹̥"Over here." Alura's voice is different, now - It echoes, everywhere and nowhere at once. She stands, flanked by that ghostly mandala as it scrawls itself into existence around her; the sigils burning, each one interlinked, part of a complex, elaborate web, all fractal patterns and twists of ghostly light. Her words are intimate, somehow - Soft, almost gentle, enough to make the absence of Cybele's Emblem *ache*, brutally...

So the place is basically her demense?

Are the memory towers part of her mind?
Did she just go Super Saiyan?
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Her hand sketches out a final sigil, releasing the gathered forces harnessed there.

This time, the quake is localized. Focused. Vines burst forth from around her - Blind, wriggling, questing for dirt. With the patient strength that can crack stone, over the course of centuries - All of that earth-breaking power, focused into a single thrust.

The ground splits. Above and around Alura, the vines - Cables, really, heavy with brass fruit, with inlaid leaves of bronze - weave themselves together, flowering in bursts of living machinery. The construct blossoms, a time-lapse bloom, as the air begins to prickle with bitter ozone, with the low hum of fusion charge...

-And behind her, a radiance builds within the thing she's created, the thing she's grown; The light of twin suns.

The light of annihilation.

"What-" Haze stammers, levering himself to one knee. "What *is* that? What's she...?"

HP: 96.1%
METER: 31%

I suggest an Entropic Shot.
The question is: Do we target Alura or the thing that she created?
Nice numbers, anon.

Anyway, I suggest targeting her creation. Lord knows there's been enough boss battles where you have to kill that kind of thing first.
Activate Emulator module for Double Fusion Annihilator. Cobalt Boost to get full six charges and shoot at the damn thing.
If we are lucky, it dies.
If we are unlucky, she can replace if (though apparently it took her a lot of time to create).
If we are really unlucky, it explodes.

Also, shouldn't we help Daegal somehow?
Tell Haze to get Daegal and Rook to safety.

You want to make a beam war with the giant fusion cannon?

(The Emulator doesn't work for your Fusion Annihilator or Meter Weapons. But you can pay the cost twice for two weapons.)
Don't forget, Thief's there too.
Let's see:
4% per charge, 6 charges total.
That's 20% per gun.
We have 31% Meter, 30% Booster and Power Transfer.

Time to go all-out.

Shoot Shrikes at Alura while we charge, just to annoy her. Maybe she loses concentration.

Anyone got a nice insult?
>Anyone got a nice insult?
"Oi, Alura! Just like your boyfriends, you've confused quantity for quality again!"
Once the thing is dead, engage Alura with the Entropic Shot.

If it survives to attack anyone, send out the Fortress to protect them.
Considering FM probably won't do anything against this kind of weapon, we're better off trying cut the damn thing apart with Omen (or try to deflect one of the shots) or using Over-Armor together with FM if we get some net Meter from this absurd expenditure.

I guess we could switch places with someone and engage fortress, over-armor and the sinistral. If it's the thief or rook, there might even by lachryma for us to build armor from on the ground.

The question is if this thing even has essence.
I really fucking hope so.
Rook's sword.
>The unique properties of OMEN's ferocious cutting edge means that the tachyon blade can actually be used to parry certain area attacks - i.e. displacing missiles and grenades before they detonate - and makes for an extremely resilient weapon.
Shit, I already forgot the name.

>jump into beam to drag other person away
>stand in beam
>dodge beam


Not enough. Not nearly enough to stop her. OMEN whirls away, swallowed up by the Vector Trap - the swelling light of annihilation bathing you in sickly radiance, as schematic lines sketch themselves into existence. The Fusion Annihilator, feed-cables bulging as they snake into connector ports - the beam array cycling, charges building as you stare into the face of the sun.

Your Assault Shroud - ragged, tattered - denudes further, blades spinning and lashing and scything. They hit Alura's field, and shatter; streaking across the distance, on their first and final flight-

There is a brittle sound, a splintering *snap* like a rifle shot. In the flawless emerald mandala that surrounds Alura, one pane of forever glass has cracked. Across the chamber, Alura's eyes - burning pits of light - narrow, infinitesimally. There is something infinitely slow in the moment, as the charge builds on your weapons - You feel your reactor cycling with furious energy, your limbs stinging with cold strength for a mere instant...Before the power is leeched away, to fuel the hungry blue corona of charge that halos your twin Fusion Annhilators. Static flickers across your vision, as the droning hum builds, builds...

One charge.

"Joker-" Haze's voice, muffled. Alura's ash-streaked shadows are on all sides, regarding you with their faceless masks - Her image, repeated again and again.


The barrel of each construct is fully as wide as you are, the sweltering light turning the color of old blood.

Then fresh blood, as it shades to open flame-

Three charges. That's all you'll have time for. But firing too late is worse than not at all. At this distance, you cannot miss - Your sensors sketching out the vast, expanding blast-pattern, gauging the expected explosion from the terminal disruption of the cannons before you.

>Not enough. Not nearly enough to stop her.
>Joker feels outgunned
>contemplates shooting a hole into reality
>pulls out multiples of the gun that can wreck entire villages, then buffs it from plasma to pure light

It's Haze that breaks the deadlock. A black cloud explodes forth from him, smoke exhaled with a speed and ferocity that makes it seem like it possesses a will of it's own. The cloud streaks across the room - Trailing streamers of soot, of sulfur. It smashes into Alura, seems to cling to her, cloying. She is enveloped in seconds, jagged plumes spinning out from the maelstrom - It almost blots out the half-dozen burning wings of the blazing mandala that lights her up from within, the spiderweb-flaws creeping across the already-splintered pane racing outwards and across in frenetic lines-

It chews into the construct, too. Vines wither, die - The gleaming, snaking cables pitted and scarred, burning in the combusion of time. Raw gashes of pitted metal-

Within her cocoon, Alura flinches. Hair, some of it real, some of it fabricated, floats around her head, billowing as it's buffeted by the corrosive smoke. There's hatred in her eyes, as she gestures-

"Got her-" Haze snarls - The control rods on his back extend, the brittle prickle of hard radiation at the very corner of his vision-

-He won't be fast enough. Not before she fires.


Every shadowy figure convulses, forced into juddering life. They are mere outlines, anchors for the ghostly masks they wear, faces as blank as porcelain dolls.

But as one, they *howl*.

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>Every shadowy figure convulses
Did someone backstab her?
What do you mean by this reaction picture?
Getting to three charges is comparable to having a tunafish just make you cum.

Alura's shadows howling is comparable to it continuing to fuck you.
I... see.
I hope you do.
Can you give me source?
Tunafish are awesome fuckbuddies.

Focused sound. A seismic shriek. Resonance that dopplers up and over the scale, an eerie, echoing cry. You lose an eye lens to a splitting *crack*, as the harmonious, savage scream reaches its apex-

The Fusion Annihilator explodes. Your right arm comes apart, panels blowing out, astral lightning writhing across your limbs as the feedback shriek slices through you - And for one moment, one blinding moment, you actually see the seething blue light of the uncaged sun-

Atomic fires eat you away. The bow-wave of the expanding explosion pick you up, and *hurl* you aside, bodily - Burned and singed, you feel it as a very hot, very hard *push* - Hurled almost the length of the chamber, your form rotating as it falls; A great searing bite chewed from your leg, armor seared from your torso in a perfect cross-section cut. Your Cobalt Booster's mechanisms rupture, the guttering light of the orb extinguished in a heartbeat-

And then you hit the ground, scorched and blackened. Somewhere, there is a distant explosion - A thunderous strobe light. Wisps of smoke rise from the stump of your arm, your leg's hydraulics spitting weak sparks. The Fusion Annihilator on your remaining arm continues to cycle, serenely ignorant of the cataclysm you've suffered - The echoes of the blast transcending all sound.

>The Fusion Annihilator on your remaining arm continues to cycle, serenely ignorant of the cataclysm you've suffered
Gotta make her pay.
Fuck that bitch.

Thank god for the heal that we've gotten from Anima.
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This bitch needs to die quick. And i sincerely hope we get to level up off her corpse.
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>Your Cobalt Booster's mechanisms rupture, the guttering light of the orb extinguished in a heartbeat

There is something about the explosion that utterly scrambles your sense of time. The world reels, sickeningly - Gyro damage. Every detail is crisp and clear, absorbed and processed.

Time slows. You observe.

You watch in excruciating detail, as the light swells. Bloody suns, Alura's form a tiny silhouette between them.

The light-

-The light will take you to pieces-

There is a blur. A line drawn across the surface of existence. It is clean and singular and inexorable.

A line of black fire passes through the construct, so black the eye cannot hold it. It passes through Alura, too, carving her almost with the same unutterable sharpness. She rotates, like a dancer pirouetting, twirling blood like an out-flung cape, as she falls.

Not dead. Not even close.

But another pane of forever glass splinters into a million pieces, chips of energy raining down from above.

Akira is up again?
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The construct slides off it's axis. Cables are severed, spewing sap, spewing sparks, spewing black oil. Something catches light, igniting with a whisperlike *whumpf*, burning with the crackle of a pine-pitch torch. It discharges, twin cannons retching huge, searing fusion beams-

Not at you. Upwards.

The roar is deafening. The shockwave flips you over, the fingers of your remaining hand clawing at the ground below for leverage as cracks skitter across the ravaged floor.

Another false dawn. The air fizzles with ozone and static.

The Thief is before you, a speed-distorted phantom resolving into solidity at last. Where once there was armor, there is now bone - overlaid with raw, flayed muscle that writhes and tightens, vapor bleeding from his limbs. In every dimension, his silhouette ghosts and hardens, as if your sensors cannot bear to focus on him.

The Fatal Abyss is in his hands.

Long and straight and heavy, the blade is an *absence* - It is a void, a tear in the fabric of reality. The edges burn with fire so black the eye cannot hold them; They shift and twist and shimmer and crawl, sucking light from the air, every pulse beating against the fabric of all that is.

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He is an awful, singular figure, armored in iron-hard bone - Slab-teeth grinning a perpetual smile, a smile his skull never showed and he does not feel.

For a long, long moment, he stares at you with blank and awful malevolence, the hungry blade writhing in his grasp.


You do not hear him across the Dirac Channel, or from his speakers. The words bypass sound, and arrive - fully formed - like a migraine in the centre of your mind.

But the Fatal Abyss does not descend, does not carve you in two. Instead, the Thief turns; raw muscle squirming against his spine, tensing with each motion, as he turns towards Alura.

I҉̷̠̪̯̠͚̤̭̤͕̭͇̗͉͎͕͈̻͎͢t̷̢̛̪̞̺̼̥͉͢͝ ̡҉̟͍̞͚͕̳̝͈̠̪͍̕ͅị̷̞̹͈̲̮͍̘̦̜̹̟͕̘̤͈̜͎̀s͍̜̤̠̱͙͈̗̳̟͈͈͙̤͚̱̪͘̕͟ ̷̨̢̼̥̱̙t͚̰̹͓͚͈̳̫̣͡͡͝͞ͅi̧͜͝҉͔̲̬̘͍͕̬͎̰͕̠̩̤̕ͅm͟͞҉̰̜̬͓̳̟̳̫̟͔̝̤͈e̴̛͇̪̲̬ ̛̮̝̺̮̬̜̩̝̩̖̟̺͔̟̣͢ͅt̵̮͓̳͕̜̥͘͢ǫ͏̞̰̤̮͈͍̺ͅ ҉̷̨̧̹̭̟̣̹̝̼͖̭͓̥͇͖͙̲͉̺̪̜m̸̰̲̼̫̫͉͞͝à̝̖̜͕͟͞k̸̶̡͚͍̹͓̮̤̞̥̳̣̘̙̭̰͠͠ͅé̷̺̼̗̲͙̗̘̫ͅ ̸̵͕̺̫͔͓̙͍̻̖͕̟̙̞̯͉͞a͏̝̫͕̰̕n̜͎̳̱̫͕̗͈̮͠͡͠ ̴̴̨͔͈͚̘̺̮̤͈̣͍̕ȩ̵̕͏̺̼̱͇͉̳̱̠͙̪̜̪͓͘ͅn͔̼̦̬̮̥̲̹͚̤̠͘ͅͅd͉͓̗͎͖̳͈̻͎̭̲͕̺̪̭́͞.̷̧̭̜͉̰̩̦̟̜͙͙̺̯̩͇̘̻̼̱͟ ̡̢͇͓͈

Past time.



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He's right.
Man, everyone around us is getting super modes left and right and we don't have ours anymore.

I miss the Carnifex.

I wonder if he has a lachryma vial for us. Then we can both fuck up Alura.

(Gentlemen, my apologies for the relative brevity of the session - I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things, and Alura's attacks are exceptionally hard to communicate narratively. I'll have to go back to the drawing board later.

Also, I have to say: The dice absolutely hated Joker this session. I have never seen such bizarre fluke results over the course of the past ten sessions. Importantly, his bad luck seems to have rubbed off, too - Note Daegal's critical failure to evade, his failure to soak, and his critical failure to break free.

Good night, and God bless: You've been a wonderful audience, and I hope to see you again very soon.)
Thanks for running. Try not to get in any more car accidents.
>Also, I have to say: The dice absolutely hated Joker this session. I have never seen such bizarre fluke results over the course of the past ten sessions. Importantly, his bad luck seems to have rubbed off, too - Note Daegal's critical failure to evade, his failure to soak, and his critical failure to break free.
I guess the Curse can worm its way through the fourth wall, given enough runtime.

(It was a relative of mine, but we had to circle the wagons.

I'll add that EVERY Shrike Blade attack failed. That is nearly statistically impossible.)
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>I'll add that EVERY Shrike Blade attack failed. That is nearly statistically impossible.
Holy shit.
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>That is nearly statistically impossible.
You're vastly underestimating our ability to fuck things up.
So /tg/ dice work even when they're not on /tg/ great.
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I'm honestly not sure if I should be cursing the Dice Gods for being such dicks or be glad that Joker is still alive despite the Dice Gods' dickery.

No wonder they just kept bouncing off that bitch.

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