Siren narrowly avoids the oncoming slaughter. One moment, it was only the important gembound - the Hive - the next the beaches were getting invaded with many. Things in the air, a whole other
army from another cave. Something about this tells Siren they might not have a good time here, but it's going to stay strong for Mother and try her best.
And then they sense something approaching, quickly. Jaws open.... And missing its attack as siren dodges to the side. They can attack from the water too? Means she can't use the cover... Unfortunate.
Claws and teeth ready, Siren prepares herself for a fight. She lashes out, aiming for the corrupted's gills. Get this thing
out of her waters.
@V-Labradorite-One
When Chaos did at last show in all its twisted malice and writhing imperfection, it could not be said that Ace had not expected his landbound comrades to meet their claws, magic, and blades first. For them to be the initial targets was easy to foresee; how could anyone believe otherwise when not a one of that disgusting brood was remotely capable of competing against Mother's fine creations. They had no true fliers among their number, merely brutes with wings for display instead of genuine performance. Even the fierce monster which had bothered climbing the skies to reach superior opponents lacked the natural prowess to do so without outside aid, a power unfurling at her sides required in order to have the barest chance of driving a weaker air combatant like Bone to ground.
Pathetic, came the word to his mind. Doubly so once it became clear that these scum needed to work in pairs against the most sedentary of soldiers. Orthus, as much as he respected his sibling, was one of the army's slower fighters due to personality more so than anatomy. A scoff couldn't be helped witnessing the blows rained upon the other Drone despite how pain lanced across multiple links leading down to the beach. The anger of his fellows enhanced his own incredulity at the uneven battle below.
He was still assessing the field, probing about for which situation seemed most dire and in need of a miracle from above when the war finally realized he was a threat to shoot down. From a point in the distance, violet streaked through the air and branched into a series of dark jagged lines. If not for his surveillance, the speed at which it approached might've taken Ace off guard completely, a couple blinks of the eye enough for the attack to be moments away from hitting. Awareness afforded him the ability to try and avoid sudden pain.
On a sharp inhale, wings snapped close to his body. He plummeted, twisting to face the lightning with belly facing up as it surged above. Flesh tingled as sparks threatened to wreak havoc and leave him a muscle-locked, jaw-grinding mess, but not a single one managed to touch. The most discomfort was the surrounding heat that made a distant part of the Drone long for Ursa's cold. He arrested his fall as the worst of the danger passed, a corkscrew flipping him upright to return to less daredevil, normal flight.
A loudmouth himself, Mirac's challenge would not go unanswered. As soon as the source of his close brush with pain was located amongst the fire-blasted sand and clashing warriors, the precious breath he'd saved for a special occasion like this had no reason to be held for much longer. It was loosed, the boom of thunder after a strike.
"Mutual? Ain't anything mutual about eating my dust, Mir-Wrecked! But if you want to go, then let's go, and ol' Skyreaver will give you a one-way trip to dead!"
Time to make good on that promise. No sooner had the last words been spat than Ace began to alter his flight path in preparation for the ensuing clash. Where once he'd flown straight, now the Drone weaved a zigzag pattern intended to complicate his opponent's aim. Here effectiveness was hampered by Order's quirks though none of its children would ever claim those a disadvantage: should one be observant enough, predictability could be read in the sharp turns made, each timed perfectly seconds apart.
"Now, pay close attention because I'm going to make this quick," he taunted, mockery lacing every syllable. "Your Oily stick, out of my airspace. Pounded into the sand, coughing up grains."
Snout tipped downward, his entire body following suit, and wings tucked against sides with a sound akin to canvas flapping in the wind. Jaws snapped shut, and he divebombed, focus narrowed to the object of his wrath. Hook-ended forelimbs lashed out, red-tinged tips directed at Mirac's blade.
@Mirac
The Zoisite followed behind the rest, using a sense of touch and hearing to trail behind the others rather than her sight. The sound of battle clashed before it, and it dreaded the fight. It wished that it could have gone with Labradorite, but the waters were not a place for it.
So instead, it breathed, and let the sensation of war overtake it. To become nothing but a worm, writhing, a tool of destruction to be used relentlessly. It would keep an eye out for the Labradorite if it could-- defend them, for they had family at home-- but as it reared up, eyes flashing over the battlefield, it saw that there was no sense to make of any of it.
Nidhogg's flashing green glow on oil was one of many flashes of color on dark against the tide of white, but when he vanished into a hole, V-Zoisite-One raced across the sand to it. One of Order's warriors, a thing of tendrils and spikes, was striking into the hole at the now vulnerable Nidhogg, and it was all the Zoisite could do to close the gap and strike: mandibles snapped, razor-sharp and fast as lightning, aiming to sever the leg of the beast.
The Zoisite lunged over the hole, a snap ringing through the air as it interceded-- perhaps too late to stop Nidhogg from injury, but fast enough to make sure that particular limb didn't hurt anyone ever again, so long as it connected with its target.
for visibility,
@Juggernaut
edit: was clarified that Jugg was stabbing Nidhogg with a LEG not a tendril so edited post to reflect that <3
Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:
(light)
Nidhogg, like some lost derelict ship lost beneath the sea, could do very little but sink. That wasn't to say he didn't try to save himself: he squirmed, thrashing beneath the weight of the sand falling around him. He also felt, rather than really heard, the sudden approach--only a step or two away!--of Juggernaut coming for him.
Oh, shit-
He threw himself back, writhing away in serpentine fashion, as the massive, pointed spear of a leg abruptly shoved downward. There was a lancing pain as it shredded a shuddering line down through his flank, ripping a deep and jagged wound from shoulder to loin. A hoarse screeching scream erupted from the pit, and he barely noticed the neon flash of Zoisite leaping overhead--all he knew was agony as he turned and scrambled for the edge.
He left a splattering of Oiled, toxic blood behind him, flaring green and fading into black. It would be very clear from the frantic nature of his attempts to escape that he was very mindlessly afraid: the only ruling instinct that of escape.
Being trapped beneath the behemoth known as Juggernaut, with its pointed jackhammer legs, was not Nidhogg's idea of a good day.
Mother's enemy arrived, and soon the battlefield was full of the chaos they sought to snuff out. His massive head swung around to survey the scene, before spotting a gout of horrid black cold-fire blasting towards them. Unfortunately, Chaos had already engulfed everything. Darting out of the way would mean going directly into another danger- a falling fireball or one of their carefully dug pits. So he dug his hooves into the ground and continued straight ahead. At the very least, he would collided into the horrid beast that was so foolish and corrupt as to stand against Mother.
The black fire brought more than just pain. Piling onto a sort of wrong that had begun with the horrid growths that marred his mother-crafted form. But he couldn't focus on that now.
He had enemies to kill.
@Rue