Reply fr: [email protected]
Cut the crap Falenti. I don't have the patience for your word games anymore, nor your attempt to stall this out or try to create a committee. Given everyone considers you our biggest brain you should know exactly what happens to every god who's tried to get in my way in the past.
Poll: 1 in favor, 0 other votes cast (9+ abstaining votes//admin override of deferral).
There's only one vote that matters and I just cast it. We extract Target A to pull (((((Static))))) in with her as soon as the ritual is ready.
Sent from Flagship O-Ark – “Herald of Storms”
Mana Code Verified.
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Corvayne flew past hundreds of battles happening on the ground. It had taken him less than five minutes to get everything he needed, though his storage ring was now very, very full.
He saw flies dive bombing red cultivators with acid, then get picked off by horrific fanged creatures that sucked them dry, in turn turned to swiss cheese by Daoboys. Monsters attacked everyone, rarely enough on their own but causing distractions and picking off anyone who wasn't paying attention. He saw on his ascent something flinging cultivators about, possibly the werewolf he had set free, and even Bessie was in the mix, the giant cow clearing the way for what looked like Dao members trying to flee the carnage.
He put it aside. His family came first, and so his first stop was the Juggernaut, in motion on it's way away from the sect. The lumbering beast was in a running fight with Red Line sect members on flying swords, whom may or may not have been vampires. Corvayne used his quantum gun and well placed [Cross Skill: Backbiter] shots to the head to quickly decimate the attackers. Even though he was pretty sure they out leveled him by ten to twenty times, the amount of damage each boosted shot did more than made up for it.
He landed on the vehicle and hurried Rio down into the hull. Bell helped grab her then stopped. "What the fuck? You brought their assistant leader who kidnapped us?"
"Her crush looked like me and got his soul sucked out. I'm either going to avenge him or get it back. She also might have a crush on me. As does the moon."
Bell put a hand on her face. "Fuck. I knew you were going to pick up more eventually. I'm mad at you. Don't think you'll just turn into water and get out of this. The moon? Are you going to try to fuck a rock?"
[[Unity]] told him both to not answer and that she was as resigned as she was angry. It also suggested what he needed to do. He kissed her. "Not my idea at all. I'll bring ice cream back."
A little of her rage subsided. "We have LBC and Spears, Mosh is helping drive and June too... but Preshe had to divert their elites. She picked up your worst habits."
"They won't kill her if they don't need to. Pragmatic." He guessed Bayou was with them, as was Little Wing.
He flew up the hatch and pointed his sword in Preshe's direction, pulling out goggles to protect his eyes as he aimed the flying sword.
Surfing in a gentle arc, he could see the ship was starting to lift off. He got the sense Gylwin was alive but tired. At the attention, the worm crawled up to his shoulder and grew a mouth.
"I'm still too weak, it was a draw between me and the sect master. He's wounded, but I had to run. Little Wing is fighting the son, with Bayou and Preshe trying to evade Red Line sect leaders."
"Can you get me aboard?" Corvayne asked, and a moment later there was a sick lurch as he landed on the ship. He could feel vibrations of a titanic fight happening, and he used Compass to track Preshe. Find her, kill the prince, get out before batshit lifestealer finds them.
The overwhelming color of the ship was gray, with even the wood a faded color. The airship had arcane propellers the size of football stadiums keeping the fortress afloat. Giant spotlights shined on the clouds above. Floating in formations, Red Line sect members on swords fought what looked like dragons and giant dragonflies. He was glad he asked for a skip: the mid-air battle looked far beyond what he could handle with just a sword and gravity.
There were signs of fighting on the ship, the blood stains and slashes suggesting Gylwin had softened them up. His compass urged him to go down stairs off the open deck. Inside there was more decoration, with the steel beams adorned with red banners and the sect's sigil. Bodies sliced in half, and some drained dry or twisted with vampire features. He was pretty sure that it just meant everything he ran into was hostile, possibly even his 'allies' from the Fistful of Dao or Three Kings.
Fast and quiet, using his cloak and shadowy hands to hide, move along walls and sometimes crawl on ceilings. He silently thanked whomever had designed the ship to have titanic imposing hallways full of hiding spots rather than sticking to a more reasonable submarine design where he'd have nowhere to hide.
The first fight he was forced into was a sharp eyed Cultivator who nearly skewered him with a spear. It was by far the hardest fight, as the man was accurate enough to keep Corvayne dodging for a good thirty seconds and durable enough to take two swings of the Hive Greatsword in the five seconds afterwards. The third barrage of ships ended him, and Corvayne from then on just assassinated any Red Liners who were above whatever Whiskey Compression had been for Cowtivators. The various levels were already leaking out of his brain.
Preshe was moving towards the bridge, and he could feel the strain of fighting a hard opponent. A spear moves forward, a dozen slow steps to avoid a single trip might save your life, and so on. He could feel powerful being moving about the ship, and he was relived to find a path that was clearly Preshe's doing, shield bashed minions slammed into walls marking the right way as clearly as his compass.
Stolen story; please report.
He saw a pair of men battering her with energy attacks from afar, the girl hunkered down behind a shield and bleeding. Bayou was dealing with her own issue, her rabbit and two dogs trying to keep a huge man from getting to Bayou herself. Corvayne took only a moment to charge [Cross Skill: Dismember] with his sword, flinging a huge wave of crescent ships that rammed into both men and exploded in energy that felt sharp, one dying outright and the other stopping his barrage long enough for Preshe to charge and use her shield to bash him into the ground. One of his arms fell off as his life was crushed out of him.
They turned and Corvayne used his shadow limbs on the man's neck and eyes, careful not to hit the hydra dogs keeping him pinned. Eventually he did enough damage the man was on the ground, then it was a minute of them beating on him to actually finish him off, to which the body sprouted another body and they needed to catch and kill it, and again a third and final time with a smaller form.
Corvayne was about to tell Preshe it was time to go when she cried out “We need to get to Little Wing!” and he felt her worry in a way that annoyed him.
He could put his foot down, but... she rarely asked for things. He took a deep breath. He thought about how much he hated his father just then, and it cleared his head. Little Wing was his friend.
“Of course.” He lead the way, through damaged corridors full of slashes, burnt sections, people diced into cubes or turned inside out. Quite a few had spines sticking them to the walls. The halls went up, towards the flight tower and what he guessed was the bridge of the ship. On the stairs, mangled golems suggested something with great huge teeth had ripped them apart. Corvayne pushed through double doors to what he could only call a huge throne room. That probably meant the flying was done on the front of the ship instead. In the center of the space, a Bloody Little Wing was panting, his opponent a sneering youth. The Sect leader of the Red Line was there, watching, one hand holding a wound that still bled. He was overwhelmingly powerful, and his gaze nearly pinned Corvayne.
There were other spectators, including a pair of women who looked to be mother and daughter and a girl in a mask with a dozen swords who was bleeding while leaning against a wall. The rest were all Red Line Men who pretty much were a dime a dozen, if not some of the ones here looking older than the ones he had fought before.
The two duelists whom had everyone's attention clashed, and there was a shockwave, Little Wing's blade chipping as whatever glowing pearl sword the prince had ground it down.
Corvayne rolled his eyes, and used [[Unity]] right as the sword broke, willing his spear into Wing's hands to parry the next strike. It was odd, the old wooden spear didn't even get chipped by having an artifact sword swung overhead into it.
Now armed with an equal weapon, Wing started to fight back, his own style much flashier then Corvayne's but also including some footwork that was distinctly his own efficient workman-like boxing of the enemy, forcing every attack to ask 'how do I get around the longer point?' and at one point doing a non-supernatural Juxtapose, leveraging the boys attack to flip positions and land a hit on the enemy's leg despite being inside the spears range.
He saw the boy palm and swallow a pill, which of course made him glow and pumped power into him, but Corvayne saw Little Wing fingering the ring he always wore, and a moment later he batted aside a titanic blow and landed his blade into the boy's neck.
Before he could finish the prince off the Sect leader stood. “Enough.”
Everyone aside from Corvayne bowed down, folded by pressure. Well, Fred and Betty also didn't seem too concerned. He watched the sect leader look at him, then stride to his son and apply a life-saving potion to the neck. The man, rather then being really angry, was looking forward to something. Corvayne started charging [Cross Skill: Grand Slam].
“My son lost, but so have all of you the moment you dared defy me! Kneel, join the Red Line Sect, and I will show mercy!”
Corvayne could see he had an eye on Preshe. He let the skill go and the blade in his hand practically flew as it unloaded huge interceptors at the sect leader. He nearly destroyed most of them in a barrage of punches, but Corvayne's real goal was to give him time to drop a huge formation plate on the ground, just in time for the leader to move to kill him.
It slowed the man enough that Corvayne got a neck brace around his leg. The sect leader snarled and snapped his foot down, breaking the formation but not the bracer. Corvayne applied his magic, turning it into an ultra heavy leg weight. The sect leader could still move it, but his first step pushed his other foot through the nice wood floor.
A girl whom he suspected was the former fiancee tried to get a knife on Preshe's neck but she just headbutted backwards, her hand locking the girls wrist before she spun and did an armlock.
Corvayne swung his blade again and fired off his bees, the ships aiming to hammer the sect leader before he could free his leg. Sadly, he concentrated and formed something like a gel of essence or qi around him, basically crushing the ships if they got too close. Some of the blows hit, but even wounded as he was it was only slowing his floor-destroying advance.
So Corvayne threw another formation down, and in that moment got a neckband around his other arm. This time, with two bracelets on, it wasn't as easy to crack the plate, so Corvayne just threw another out. He took the sword and pulled it back, binding gravity into it as he took a batters stance. [Cross Skill: Mass Driver] executed as he felt kinetic potential build then explode out, the little beads becoming pitch black meteors trailing shadows as they plowed right through the man's domain and sent him tumbling into his throne.
He stood, drawing a blade that looked like a tree... then a thread of black essence pierced his heart. Corvayne could see it latch onto a bundle of energy as the Sect leader felt it too, but had no defenses for whatever the bride was doing. Corvayne aimed for the middle of the man's bundle, figuring he could deny her the meal and possibly kill the man who dared look at Preshe like he did.
Anyone who looked at her like a tool? Like a slave? He would kill them. He was finally getting what those stories talked about.
“Yall dare?” he said, and smiled. This one's for you Dusky.
The sect leader fell over, drained but sadly, just barely alive. Corvayne didn't wait for anyone else to get ideas. The bride was above them and going to throw more strings through the floor and finishing off the now aged and level-less man was pointless. There was enough ambition in the room to leave it to them.
He grabbed Preshe and used [[Unity]] to pulse out a retreat. They linked and moved backwards smoothly as the spectators erupted into panic after another string killed a bystander, swishing through them and ripping their energy out as they collapsed into a heap. Before the panicing cultivators could react further Corvayne was kicking open the door.
“We have to kill the prince!” Little Wing cried out.
“If he lives you'll just beat him again. Have faith in yourself.” Corvayne was now sure there was another duel somewhere in the near future, possibly aboard this ship whenever it decided to crash. He really hoped he was totally wrong and the stories were wrong and that he could score a fantastic flying ship, one that might be able to move between floors... but he detected a slight tilt that [[Understanding]] was sure to be a sign the entire vessel would hit a mountain in a few minutes.
Corvayne did a double swing above him, throwing [Sundering Blade] and [Cross Skill: Sundering Strike] together to create a huge vortex of red dust, chewing away the floor and ceiling and ideally stopping any cultivators from the room following them.
They burst onto the deck of the ship, and Corvayne was about to put his sword down when Bombshell landed before them, grinning. Her dress was completely red with blood, and her mood was all over the place. Corvayne could see past her figure to her essence. It was dark, dirty, with ugly bulges that writhed. Her energy was both overwhelming and gross, like a giant snake who had tried to eat ten too many dire rats.
His allies stood still, waiting for him to silently and instantly relay his plans to overcome the titan before them, strength even a hundred feet away obvious to Corvayne. His danger sense had been on the moment he left the mountain but had gone from a buzz to a full on blaring alarm. He saw death before him. A spear holds. A spear moves forward.
“No need to hurry, no one will interrupt us now.” The woman said, clearly pleased with themselves. He idly considered her, wondering if they had to hire someone to make a wedding dress for a 13 foot tall woman with huge breasts.
Corvayne squared up. He had an idea, and either he would be right and it would work or the towering woman before them would kill them all.
He wordlessly squared up with her, hand hovering on his hive weapon, as her fingers twitched with writhing strings, their eyes locked on each-other before clouds billowed across the deck, breaking the spell.
Then, with a snap, the tension burst and they both moved.