War with D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!

WAR WITH DESTINY

By headsman's blade or battle-axe

Fight For Your Life

Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.

For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.

The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree.

You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.

BATTLE MODE: ATTACK

You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.

She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.

Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.

SEEK SANCTUARY

Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.

BATTLE MODE: SUPPORT (PSYLINK)

And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.

Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.

Drift Compatible

The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.

You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.

In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.

The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.

Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.

But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.

Comments

you assume correctly!

[hasitsthorns]

[ Because she is a strong independent woman who don't need no (iron) man. She's grateful though for that dodge of his because while she is very impressive, she isn't impervious to bullet fire. At least, not that she knows of. The last time she was shot it hurt a lot and so she's going off of that. ]

Nowhere to go but up! [ she shouts back at him over the rushing sound of air and a helicopter and war. ] Might need you to catch me when that thing goes down though! I can probably survive a copter crash but I don't really wanna' find out if I can help it.

[ Either way, she's readying herself. Almost more like a feline than canine in this moment, indeed, as she wriggles to adjust to the best way and angle to launch herself at the helicopter. ]

[servomotor]

[The way she moves in his metal arms is profoundly strange. It reminds Tony of the glimpses he'd gotten of the Black Panther, or watching Peter climb a wall. The sharp angle of shoulderblades, the eerie, liquid grace with which elbows and knees nearly meet, the line of her spine curling impossibly. Despite the ears, she'd looked human. Sounded human.

But no, she doesn't move like it.]

Roger that.

[He kicks. Twists in the air like a dolphin in clear blue water. Barrels straight up toward the doors, and last minute, just as they're breaking past the lip of the aircraft doorway-- he springs her loose. Servos fire in the arms, screwing together enough mechanical force to rocket her into the hatch. Instantly, the enemy fighters begin to shout. Pistols whipping out to find an angle on her, trying not to intersect with the cockpit.]

[hasitsthorns]

[ They are aptly named 'apparitions' for a reason. She moves with an eerie ethereal grace, like an undercurrent of water in a frozen stream. Even Rose, for as clumsy and uncoordinated and human as she can be in every day life, is able to call to this side of herself when need be. She'd much rather be the unassuming human though.

Soon as she feels the lack of a grasp, she's using that boost he gives to her full advantage. The momentum carries her practically right into their laps. They retaliate almost immediately, as expected, but also as expected Rose is too fast for them to do much of anything about. She's a literal blur; the only thing that does end up grazing her is the richocet off the metal casing instead of the actual shot itself.

It's mayhem. A familiar rush of adrenaline through her veins as she mentally recites her moves. Duck, legsweep, uppercut, elbow to the neck- It's a snap from one movement to the next, something surprisingly fluid about the way she completely destroys the inside of the copter. Tony might hear the yelp of a D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. soldier as they're forcefully ejected from the vehicle and plumments to the ground below.

It's fine. Hopefully they have a parachute. Last is the pilot, who is easier to incapacitate than the rest. Easier but- The craft suddenly lurches as soon as there's no one controlling it. She doesn't have any idea where to start even making sense of the controls so she doesn't.

Instead, Rose goes the way of the previously mentioned soldier. Though she's diving out of the copter voluntarily and she definitely doesn't have a parachute. She doesn't expect Tony to catch her - and really, doesn't need him to - but it'd be nice to have a ride back, maybe. ]

omg battle rosie

[servomotor]

[Tony keeps himself busy while the woman inside the craft sends all these unwanted folks falling out of it. He has to swerve once when one fellow in a red tin can (less attractive than his own red tin can, not as well-made, as tasteful in design) plunging out of the sky. He wheels up, points a laser up with one of his arms. Kills one of the rotors at the end of the craft, sending it swerving down toward the green earth. If 'earth' is the word for it when it's Xistentia.

And then, abruptly pilotless, the downward fall accelerates. Fridayd chatters through Tony's HUD, confirming that it's going to hit one of the city's outlying neighborhoods on its current trajectory. Abandoned, but the structural damage promises to be extensive.

He kills another shipboard rotor with his other laser. Steepening the angle of the fall, which lights up green inside his visor. That should do it. It'll still crash near where its original destination was, but far enough. (Also: close enough he'll be able to harvest the pieces pretty easy after all this is said and done, but that's neither here nor there.) Turning on a dime, he then opens his arms to catch Rosie's body. Fridayd has already catalogued her as a friendly, her fuzzy ears highlit in green. An arrow poking out of her fair cheek, reading

HANAKO NURUMI
ALIAS ROSIE
DAEMON APOLLOD
SPECIES ???

He takes them out from under the dying ship's shadow.] Say, [he says.] What did you say you were?

battle! rosie!!!

[hasitsthorns]

[ One moment she's free falling, the next there's metallic arms holding her tight. Not quite as romantic as she always imagined a knight in shining armor but- She'll take what she can get right now. The woman watches the copter fall gracelessly. It hadn't even occured to her potential propery damage, so it's a good thing that Tony was considerate to not drop it on some poor people's neighborhood.

The woman lets her legs dangle a little, kicking them to release a bit of leftover adrenaline buzz from fighting. The rush, even now, isn't necessarily something enjoyable but it does take a bit of time to come down from. ] Yokai, [ she answers, over the breeze. ]

Translates to 'demons' in English, I think. Ghost, maybe. It's... complicated. [ Story of her life. ]

[servomotor]

[He twists in mid-air, agile as a starling changing directions and riding the wind. A starling that happens to be large enough to carry a wolf, and fortified by metal beside.]

You don't happen to be dead, do you?

[In the meantime, Fridayd rattles out the new field entry in his helmet quick. YOKAI, including the Japanese right next to him, the cursor winking across nearly as fast as thought. He swings down toward the Earth, twisting like a snake to avoid the possibility of enemy fire. Smoke trails from ground missiles come swimming up, but not fast enough, not near enough to catch them.]

Or. Formerly. [It happens in this world, more often than one would think or prefer.]

[hasitsthorns]

Not in this world, at least! [ He does have a surprising sort of grace for a tin-man, she thinks. Like he's used to these sorts of heroics. She imagines if he built the suit himself though that would be kind of the point. A self-made hero. What's her excuse then, for being a wolf in sheep's clothing? Hm. ]

But kind of, I guess. Consider this place a bit of borrowed time.

[servomotor]

[In a breathtaking rush of air, he changes angles and than starts a descent. Swings his boots out to catch them, slow them down, once he's near enough for the repulsors to find traction against the earth and grass.]

Borrowed or not, [he says,] doesn't seem like you're wasting it. [A reasonable compliment from the most dedicatedly irritating people on Earth.] Beach is three miles that way-- [he points.] I'm going to make sure the area's clear by air. You got ground, or you heading into the city?

[hasitsthorns]

[ Solid ground beneath her feet feels much better than air. Rose had always wanted to fly. She wanted to throw it in the face of the tengus that mocked the flightless yokai, but- It's a much nicer idea in theory than in practice. It doesn't feel freeing, it feels terrifying. She'll take her run of the earth to the sky any day. ]

#YOLO, as the kids say. [ Read as she said 'hashtag yolo, by the way. ] In my case, it's not necessarily true but- I'm treating it like it is. Not gonna' let anything slow me down while I can help it.

[ It's not a bad mentality to have. It's led her to some trouble recently, but- It's over now. It's fine. It will be. ]

I got the ground, dude. Thanks for the lift though. I'll see ya' around?

[servomotor]

[Tony's smile is invisible behind his helmet, but maybe she can hear it anyway. Hashtag YOLO, thanks for the lift. She might have fit in right at home with the idiotic Whedonesque banter back home. In another life, she would have made a good Avenger. They have gods, why not demons? Ghosts. Whatever it was-- she'd identified herself as.]

Count on it, Rosie, [he says, releasing her back to the Earth that she loves so well and is so good at murdering people on. A flash of energy from his repulsors, and he rises into the air again, sunlight flashing off the bright colors of his armor.]

Maybe find an apple while you're down there. A little roughage to go with all that protein.