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>Father Stanley MacKay

Mercifully, your entrance into the settlement is devoid of any sort of run-in with the jailers, who appear to be more humanoid than you initially thought. They do not sprint as much as they do shuffle towards the source of the commotion at a regular, but determined pace. A small force of masked humanoids, each wielding a branding iron and a pale blue lantern, slowly makes their way towards the north side.

The settlement itself is something straight out of a Christmas card. The domain takes cues from the commonly accepted image of what the North Pole would be: a quiet, 17th/18th century Germanic village completely covered in snow and Christmas décor. Gas lamps flicker to provide some semblance of illumination, reflecting off the snow-covered cobblestone in eerie shapes and colors.

Just like the forest outside the settlement, this too is a place locked in time, preserved for all eternity. It would make a nice Christmas card, you suppose, if it was not for the Corruption.

You feel it the instant you take a step on it, the oily and putrid stench of filth that you once smelled in Titania’s forest. Evil has taken hold of this place, turning this quiet town into one of horror and nightmares. Several of the buildings are little more than rubble, some still even smoldering wrecks. Blood stains the walls, the ground, and the air itself is filled with the metallic scent of iron.

Yet that isn’t even the worst of it…

Even behind her visor, you can see Victoria paling. “…are those…Santa’s…” She’s unable to finish her sentence before she loses her composure and the morning’s breakfast all over the wall.

From the alley where you take cover, you can still see the horrible sight. In the center of the town, embedded on pikes that stick out of the ground, the sightless eyes of seven reindeer stare out into the distance. Their deaths had not been gentle, evidenced from the way their spines are still attached to their heads.

“…oh, shit.” Fitz curses.

You whisper your agreement, even as a cold pit forms in your stomach. “Indeed…”

To his credit, Brady only gags once, quickly transitioning into report mode. “…I’m getting a faint reading,” he whispers, patting Victoria on the back as she continue to puke. “…it’s…it’s a COMP signal…but it’s buried too much interference.”

Fitz is on him in an instant. “It’s Adrain,” She mutters, “It has to be…Brady, where’s it coming from?”

He frowns, adjusting one of the dials with his one free hand. “It’s small, but it’s there…pointing us in…that direction.”

He points towards what looks like a warehouse, half-collapsed from both the heavy snowfall and a weak structure. At the sole entrance, what looks like three of the strange humanoids patrol the street. Two stand at the door, even while one makes circles around the street.

(cont.)

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“…any other mooks in the vicinity?” She asks, all the while analyzing the guards.

“...no, the closest ones are all still moving in the direction of the Vatican agents. Why?”

It hits you harder than an eighteen wheeler barreling down a suburban road. Oh dear. “Fitz, wait-” You hiss, but it’s too late.

By the time the words exit your mouth and your hand reaches towards your friend, she’s already gone. She races towards the demons in a dead sprint, hand flying towards her COMP as she brandishes an elemental stone. Her demons materialize by her side as the guards take notice of her charge, cocking their heads curiously at the charging woman.

But they’re too slow. Even as they begin to raise their weapons, Fitz already crushes the stone in her hand, summoning a torrent of winds that slice at the guards. Even as they stagger under the force of the squall, whose flurries are sharp enough to cut through metal, she already barks out another command. Lham Dearg falls upon the patrolling humanoid as Apsaras buffs the three of them.

“…dammit, Fitz…” Victoria moans. She still looks green around the gills, but it seems that the worst of her spell has come to pass. “…we have to…to help her…”

Brady curses, hastily standing up and fumbling at his jacket. “Damn. Is he that good in bed to just blindly charge after him?”

It’s a joke, but you can’t help but give your friend a withering stare. He quails under your disappointed gaze before you retract it after a second's meditation. “Come on,” You sigh, “If your reading’s correct, then Adrian’s bound to be in the building. And hurry. The sooner we take them out, the less chance we have of being discovered…”

Case in point when another explosion from the north sends a deafening CRACK reverberating along the walls and stones of the North Pole…

>Keep your distance and engage.

(cont.)

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“Keep your distance and engage the enemy at will,” You shout, sprinting to catch up with Fitz. The familiar weight of your knife fills your hands, but it’s more of a last resort more than anything else. Against these unknown enemies that have more than enough strength to casually stop you from rescuing Adrian back in the embassy, it’s definitely better to be safe rather than sorry.

With a flash of light, the demons best suited for this situation materialize into the air. Hua Po shivers by your shoulder, but whether or not she’s moving from the cold or the grisly sight is anyone’s guess. And Bastiel the Unicorn rears, stomping its hooves onto the snow-covered ground. You know the gaze in his green eyes, one filled with hate and loathing towards evil. It’s one that you recognize all too well…

“The enemy is before us,” You intone, reaching into your pocket. “Stand and fight against the corruption!”

>Select which element stone you wish you use:
>Agidyne (5)
>Bufudyne (5)
>Mazandyne (5)
>Zandyne (5)
>Ziodyne (5)

>Hua Po will use…
>Physical attacks.
>Magical Attacks (Agi, Maragi)
>Buffs/Debuffs

>Bastiel will use…
>Physical Attacks
>Magical Attacks (Mazio, Zionga)
>Expell Attacks (Hama, Mahama)
>Buffs/Debuffs

>Thread theme
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hs71P6z9LZ8

>>1003818
>Agidyne (5)
>Magical Attacks (Agi, Maragi)
>Expell Attacks (Hama, Mahama)

>>1003841
>>1003818
Also for how fucked up this domain is maybe this music might fit more

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EGuSQoGVVE

>>1003818
>Agidyne (5)
>Magical Attacks (Agi, Maragi)
>Expell Attacks (Hama, Mahama)

>>1003818
>Agidyne (5)
>Magical Attacks (Agi, Maragi)
>Expell Attacks (Hama, Mahama)
Oh shit, almost forgot about this.

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>>1003841
>>1003862
>>1003891
Fire coalesces in your hand, a heatless flame that does not burn your skin, but fills your body with an intense heat, begging to be released. Your body weight shifts, rearing back before you send the ball of flames racing through the air, losing it from your hand as if you were throwing a baseball.
The flame grows, expanding until it’s as large as a watermelon, exploding directly in the face of one of the guards. The demonic construct flails, dropping its lantern and backing away from Lham Dearg as magical fire licks at its body.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Hua Po declares, igniting a little flame on her finger. Raising it to her mouth, she exhales, and the air that passes through the flame ignites, blasting the area with a wall of fire. “Maragi!”

She isn’t even finished with her attack when Bastiel raises his head, searing light gathering at the very tip of his horn. The unicorn jerks its head once, and the energy races towards the burning construct. A pillar of light appears around the target, intricately woven with heavenly runes and holy symbols. There is a there is a tremendous pressure, followed by an acrid smell as the Expel magic literally attempts to vaporize the target trapped within it.

Cowed by the wall of fire that springs up in the middle of the street, all the other two guards can do is raise their weapons cautiously as their comrade suffers grievous injury. They circle around the flames, slowly marching around the barrier as they brandish their lanterns menacingly towards the assembled humans and demons.

Brady and Victoria barely give them any time to cross. As one, they unleash their own elemental deluge. Scythe-like winds batter at the one approaching from the left flank, as its comrade reels back from the sharp crack of lightning. The other elements have less of an effect as the flames you sent in their direction.

Nevertheless, your comrades’ demons do a good job of following up. More than once, the brand comes into contact with demonic flesh, and the cries your demons make cause you to twitch in sympathetic pain. In spite of the odd numbers against them, the two surviving guards are still putting up an incredible fight.

However, in their haste to rush and meet the intruders, they have left the entrance to the building completely exposed and vulnerable...

>Sprint into the building while the guards are distracted.
>Stay with the Squad and finish off the entrance guards.
>Custom option.

>>1003964
>>Stay with the Squad and finish off the entrance guards.

This is the only entrance/exit. Let's keep it clear else we get trapped.

>>1003964
>>Stay with the Squad and finish off the entrance guards.
Clear them out.

>>1003964
>>Stay with the Squad and finish off the entrance guards.

>>1003964
>>Stay with the Squad and finish off the entrance guards.
shouldn't take that much longer.

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>>1003975
>>1003987
>>1003989
>>1004048
“We’re almost there!” You shout, commanding your demons to fire off another barrage. “Just one more and they’ll fall!”

Your comrades redouble their efforts. Breaking off from the collapsed minion, Lham Dearg crosses blades with one just as it manages to bypass the wall of flames. The sound of steel grinding against each other fills the street, interlaced with the dissonant crash as they trade blows and strikes. From behind the demon of the highlands, Apsaras intones a prayer, the harsh words forming a magical spell that ensorcells the swordsman’s enemy. As the struggle continues, Lham manages to strike more blows, easily bypassing the guard’s responses that slowly become more sluggish.

The other guard fares better, but only slightly. It shakes off the electricity with relative ease, only to stagger under the impact of Hua Po’s little ball of fire. While her Agi pales in comparison to your ramped-up Agidyne, it still ignites a portion of the jailor’s clothes and armor on fire. Unicorn is quick to press the advantage, giving no quarter as it fires off anther Expel at the construct.

As the others continue their fight against the others, you quickly move to inspect the fallen guard. Still smoldering from both the flames and the holy magic, all the construct can do is twitch feebly as you approach its body. The fall has knocked its mask away, revealing the half-burnt, wooden face of a nutcracker. Its eyes flicker, dimming and flaring with blue energy as they stare out into nothing. Magnetite, you suppose.

A disturbing fact, for a demon lord as powerful as Krampus to be able to fashion an icon of the holidays into a familiar. You take a few pictures with your COMP, preparing them for transfer to Central as you draw your knife and kneel down by its neck. You take extreme care to kick both its lantern and brand before you come too close.

It wouldn’t do just to leave it there, even if it isn’t going anywhere. Not with those limbs, at any rate. Nothing short of new limbs or extensive healing magic (which you have no intention of providing) would ever restore the construct to its full capacity.

Suddenly, the guard spasms. It does not try to move its limbs or try to reach for you as much as it just jerks and twitches. Sparks fly as joints misfire and its eyes flicker wildly. But as quick as it begins, the seizure stops, and without any warning, the magnitite within its eyes shift. The light azure slowly darkens, shifting from the color of ice as its eyes slowly become filled with a burning red.

“…sequence initiated…” the automaton’s mouth moves in an unnerving semblance of human speech. The wooden parts move listlessly, rattling as its movements become stiff and jerky. Its voice is a hollow tin, a breathless noise that should not exist. “…seven…sssssss….fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive…”

>Destroy them, quickly!
>HIT THE DECK!

>>1004069
>>Destroy them, quickly!

>>1004069
>>Destroy them, quickly!

>>1004069
>Destroy them, quickly!

>>1004069
>HIT THE DECK!

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>>1004089
>>1004102
>>1004111
“Destroy them!” You shout, quickly stumbling back as you pull out another elemental stone. “Quickly! They’re going to explode!”

As one, everyone’s heads turn, staring at you in undisguised shock. You suppose that this is due to two factors. You suspect that the first one is that they’ve never heard you use this urgent, desperate tone of voice. The second one comes with the dawning horror that just as dangerous as these wretched automatons are dangerous in life, so are they in death as well.

The choice of what to do flashed before your eyes, quick as lightning and faster than a thought. Destroy them before they detonate, or flee and find cover?

It was an easy decision, honestly. You’ve seen enough movies and read through plenty of scenarios to know that blowing something up before it detonated by itself aws the safer of the two types of explosions. Most of the time.

You don’t even hesitate. Even as you shout another command for everyone to pull themselves and their demons back, you pull out another fire stone from your pocket. Desperation lends you speed, and you voice another command to your demons as you crush the stone once more. Even after you blast the downed automaton for a second time, Hua Po and Bastiel are soon to follow. Their magic is enough to completely obliterate the fallen construct.

But the last two continue to be more resilient than their fallen comrade. As if sensing their companions’ demise, their eyes likewise flare red. Dropping their weapons, they shield their bodies with their hands as they lurch towards the squad. No longer do they care about the wall of flames, the edges of which begin to lick at their robes. After all, they are about to die, so why bother worrying?

Still, your companions are not about to have any of it. Fitz picks up a fallen brand, draws back, and hurls it as hard as she can, sending the weapon screaming back towards its owner. The impromptu projectile strikes, searing-end first into the chassis of the closest creature. From behind its mask, it lets out a torturous wail, a horrific noise that scratches at the mind, scratches at your sanity. It is the sound of tortured cypress and ash, of oak and pine, screaming and groaning as only trees are able to.

But it has a minimal effect on you, as well as the others. Hairy Jack stumbles around like a drunkard, but Mokoi continues to fire Zan spells in conjunction with another of Brady’s elemental stones. He and Victoria are in sync, commanding their demons as a cohesive unit to destroy the enemy before them as quickly as they can.

The demonic nutcracker, limbs broken and face smashed, stumbles forwards, eyes glowing a dangerous red…

It’s going to be so close…

Its mouth opens, and the dull THUNK of the wood echoing throughout the street is the prelude to its scream...

…please…

You quickly pull them back into the alleyway-

>How’s your luck?
>Roll 4d100
>Best of four

Got a job interview in a few hours. Last post of the night, will resume tomorrow afternoon.

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>1004328

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>1004328

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>1004337
well now I don't know if I should ruin that.

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>1004328
Nat 1

Rolled 79, 18, 80, 85 = 262 (4d100)

>>1004328

Rolled 83, 93, 23, 38 = 237 (4d100)

>>1004749
oh. 4d100. Right, whoops.

Rolled 74, 46, 39, 48 = 207 (4d100)

>>1004328
rollin

Rolled 1, 38, 58, 26 = 123 (4d100)

>>1004328

I petition that we take those first 4 1d100 votes and use them as a 4d100 post.

>>1005138
Cause fuck you.

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>>1005143

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>>1005138
What have I done

>>1005143

On one hand, I'm very tempted to take the proper rolls...but on the other hand...it's the new year. I'll take the first rolls, but just this once.

Writing...

>>1005345
You notice it's every time you are being nice and giving us Bo4 or Bo5 that things fuck up on the last accepted roll? Like the last roll of last session.

>>1005355
Keep in mind that this is a Christmas/New Year's special. I'm not going to kill off characters or put them in (too much) dire straits.

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>>1005345
Kaz is a merciful QM, We yet live, for now.

>>1004337
>>1004339
>>1004395
>>1004452
>91, 4, 79, 86

The final guard takes one more shuddering step, lurching perilously as another wave of spells ravage its form. For the briefest of moments, its eyes meet yours, holding the gaze between its red and your blue as its movements abruptly cease. Then, it is over, and time resumes once more.

The last of the automatons falls, unable to even give voice to the countdown. There is a soft noise, a puff of air as the snow underneath the construct is displaced. It twitches several times in its death throes before stilling permanently, and the light in its eyes goes dark forever.

All the four of you can do is gather your breath, panting harshly as you collect yourselves. Your heart is racing a mile a minute even as you direct Bastiel to administer healing to those who are in need of it. The Summoners are fine. It is the demons that require the most aid, which is not too much. The brands easily come off as soon as the unicorn’s horn touches their wounds.

A moment’s respite...you can easily afford that. Just to catch your breath and ensure that everyone’s in tip-top shape. The demons seem to have taken the brunt of the accumulated injuries and scratches, but again, those are easily taken care of.

That had been too close, and a very near shave. The encounter could just have easily gone in the other direction if you’d been too slow or not relentless enough in your attacks.

But you shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips as you look over the rest of the team. Aside from immediate counters, worrying about the exploding nutcrackers would only be an exercise in futility.

“Good job,” You compliment them. “I must say that you responded rather quickly.”

Brady snorts. “Kind of hard not to when you say that something’s gonna explode.”

“But how did you know that destroying the constructs would result in deactivating the countdown?” Victoria tilts her head quizzically. “I mean, they don’t have mechanical bits or pieces in them, so I couldn’t tell anything…”

…you carefully decide not to answer that question. “Any injuries that I should be made aware of?”

“Nope,” Fitz drawls, crouched over the charred remains of one of the nutcrackers. Gripping the shaft, she wrenches loose the brand that she impaled it with, testing its weight with a few experimental swings. “So if y’all don’t mind, I’m just about ready to head on into the buildin’ to rescue Adrian-”

She can’t even finish her sentence before a muffled BOOM causes the ground to shake. The impact itself feels like a miniature earthquake, causing you to nearly fall over as the surrounding land heaves and rumbles. The gas lampposts on the streets flicker, and rooftop snow either shifts perilously or completely falls off the building and onto the streets.

(cont.)

>>1005831
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"S BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK

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Brady is not so lucky. Standing under the eaves of the building the jailers were guarding, your friend only has a moment to look up in shock before a miniature avalanche of snow buries him. Beside him, Victoria makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a yelp as she leaps aside, narrowly avoiding a similar deluge. Mercifully, all that falls is snow. No ice or icicles to speak of or fear for impalement.

“The fuck was that?!” Fitz shouts

As the ground stills, you close your eyes, doing your best to feel out the epicenter of the rumbling. It was very close, and you were very much within the initial radius of the first shockwaves. And given the only building in the area, as well as a clear lack of any demons, automatons or otherwise…

Your eyes open, and you flash a rare grin towards your startled teammate. “If I were a betting man, I would say that Adrian’s making his own rescue as we speak…”

>>Prison Armory
>>Adrian Brown

“I could really use a hand over here!” You snap as you light another bundle of dynamite. You give the flame two seconds to chew through the fuse before you blindly lob it over the barricade. A moment later, a deafening explosion reverberates through the hallways of stone. “Pyro Jack!”

“Right!” Raising its lantern, the spirit of Halloween sends a plume of flames racing down the corridor. You don’t dare stick your head out to far on account of searing your eyebrows, but what from what you can see, the ramped-up Maragi makes short work of the advancing constructs.

As soon as the flames cease, your attackers return fire. Shards of ice impact the barrier, tinkling as they shatter against the impregnable stone. You wince as one shatters only a foot away from your head, dusting your face with magical ice. It takes the better half of a moment to clear the junk out of your face, even as you reach for another bit of explosive.

Put simply, the armory was loaded. Aside from Frosty’s missing armor and weapons, the shelves of the place held a plethora of weapons. The large majority of it was useless, however, either too small to wield or rusted over time. But there was still plenty to work with. Like guns, a few elemental stones, even a box dynamite. Dynamite, in the North Pole!

Shaking your head, you turn back towards Frosty, sitting in a magical circle with his eyes closed in deep concentration. The armor looked too big on his thin frame when he first put it on, fingers trembling as he slid into the suit and strapped his helmet into place. Now, with the aid of the recovery circle, the Commander of the Christmas Guard is slowly regaining his power.

(cont.)

The fight itself to the armory was an exercise in simplicity. Stealth and shadow had been your ally when getting the initiative against the patrolling guards. You only engaged when you had to, and you refrained from using elemental stones, instead engaging with the brand you scavenged from the earlier guard. You had more than a few close calls, but you managed to make it to the armory in once piece before the alarm went off.

Before the armory itself was an antechamber of sorts, constructed of sturdy stone. This you turned to your advantage, quickly pushing debris and miscellaneous objects to create a cover of sorts between the stone walls of the hallway.

It’s a bottleneck of a passage way, a literal killing zone. Trapped in the armory you may be without any visible escape route, it cannot be denied that you have the advantage. The long corridor forces the demons to march towards you if they were to engage in close combat. Which they weren’t going to do until you either ran out of elemental stones, dynamite from the box or your demons lost their magic.

But it’s still not going to be an easy fight. Wave after wave of Krampus’ minions flood into the hallway, stepping over the smoldering bodies of their comrades in their mad charge to reach you. And with Frosty vulnerable as he recovers, it falls to you to hold them off until the demon can formally join you in battle. Pyro Jack and Angel aid you in your endeavor, as well as Rangda, who cackles with delight with every one of the enemy to fall.

This you’ve been doing for the last few minutes, and the increased wave has forced you to use the dynamite earlier than you expect. Fear of collapsing the structure gives way to worry of being overrun, but you place your aim as best you can to avoid collapsing the hallway and the ceiling above you.

“Human…” Rangda suddenly hisses, snapping her fingers to send a wave of Force scything into the last of the current wave. “I can sense something approaching…something more powerful than these puppets and shells that fall before us…”

That’s worrisome. “Is it Krampus?”

“No…it’s energy feels similar to these artificial soldiers…but more potent, more honed…and the smell of the demon is stronger upon it…as is the taint of Corruption…”

“The Warden!” Frosty shouts, eyes flaring open in worry. “If he’s coming, then that means things are about take a nasty turn!”

You don’t need to think twice. “Hold the line,” You shout to your demons. “I’ll be back in a moment!”

Rushing into the armory, you race towards the shelves that contain human-sized weapons. As tempting as all of them look, you’re only going to be able to properly wield one of the several oddities that line the walls...

>Choose a weapon:
>The Caning (Harpoon gun modified to launch large, sharpened candy canes)
>The Horn of Plenty (Cornucopia modified into a grenade launcher)
>The Pepperbox (Machine gun that fires high-velocity peppermints)

>>1006034
>>The Caning (Harpoon gun modified to launch large, sharpened candy canes)

We've had great luck with harpoon guns.

>>1006034
>>The Horn of Plenty (Cornucopia modified into a grenade launcher)

>>1006034
>>The Caning (Harpoon gun modified to launch large, sharpened candy canes)

>>1006034
>those weapons
Brilliant.

>The Caning (Harpoon gun modified to launch large, sharpened candy canes)

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>>1006052
>>1006062
>>1006066
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” You mutter, grabbing the harpoon gun and its…unorthodox ammunition from the walls.

The weapon itself loads similarly to the one you used in the Delaware case, with even an optional string attachment underneath the barrel itself. Hollow points have been drilled into the bottom of the candy canes where you mount it onto the gun itself. The “harpoons” themselves are just as large as ones made of steel, but differ in that they lack the spring head that keeps the projectile embedded within the target’s flesh. For this, it compensates with easily one of the sharpest points you’ve ever seen on an object.

Seriously, the thing looks like it would slice through the stone of the prison if you were to drop it head first onto the ground.

You load up a shot, sliding in the cane before you load the explosive cap into the rear of the chamber. As your hands work at the mechanism, you notice the sounds around you. Or rather, the absence of it: complete and utter silence that envelops the surrounding area. Even before the chaos of holding them off, there was always the soft whisper of air, or the creaking and moaning of the dungeon walls, and the soft steps of the guards that echo through the hallway.

Now…all of it is gone. And its absence leaves nothing but a cold pit that slowly chills your body.

“It comes…” Rangda intones, raising her hands to cast a spell. “Quickly, human!”

Just as you take up a position, the end of the hallway explodes. Shards of stone and dirt go flying, and you duck to avoid bits of shrapnel that sail over the barricade. Even before the dust settles, you can make out a pair of malevolent red eyes that stare from the enlarged hole, and an armored hand that pulls a dark mass into the long hallway.

It is an armored humanoid, easily a foot and a half taller than you and weighing in at probably three times as much. Every step it takes causes the dungeon to shudder, stirring the dust in ancient cracks and nooks in a solemn rhythm. In the warden’s hands, a wicked halberd scrapes along the stone, and the shriek it makes causes a tremor to run through your body as it awakens a primal fear.

The good news is that its bulk slows it down immensely, hindering it as it tries to walk down the killzone.

The bad news is that it looks durable as fuck, and nothing short of complete and utter annihilation would stop its advance.

…welp, you think to yourself. Best get started.

>Take aim and fire!
>Use an elemental stone.
>Custom option.

>Swap out Angel/Pyro Jack?
>Yes
>No

>Set Rangda to...
>Magical Attacks
>Buffs/Debuffs

>>1006201
>>Take aim and fire!
>No
>Buffs/Debuffs

>>1006201
>>Take aim and fire!
>Yes
Angel for Pixie, cast Luster Candy
>Buffs/Debuffs
Debilitate

>>1006213
>>1006201
I'll second this.

>>1006201
>>Take aim and fire!
We're only going to get a handful of shots; aim carefully.
>Buffs/Debuffs
Preferably either something to slow him or something to weaken his armor.

>>1006201
Anyone got any tactical ideas beyond pour fire down the hallway?

>>1006527
Buff, debuff, weakness exploit. That's how you win SMT. Thing is, we don't know his weakness. Something is telling me Zio for some reason.

>>1006201
>take aim and fire!
>No
>Buffs

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>>1006212
>>1006213
>>1006264
>>1006276
>>1006978
“Buffs and debuffs!” You call to Rangda, taking aim with the Caner. “Slow it down and bring its defenses down!”

The witch cackles. “With pleasure, mortal!”

Shaking her languorous body, the demon chants in a guttural voice, deep enough to reverberate in your chest. Energy appears in her hands, manifesting as three spheres of orange, purple and green. Simultaneous casting of three hindering spells at once, the Debilitate spell is one of the most useful tools in a Devil Summoner’s arsenal. As well as the one that more often than not determines the tide of a battle.

But, you digress. The witch hurls the spheres as fast as she can, racing though the hallway until they collide with the warden. As the magic envelops its body, the armor groans and creaks, as if reacting violently to the effects of the spell. The warden’s steps falter, and the being almost stumbles.

>The Warden’s Attack/Defense/Hit-Evade has decreased by one level!

As the Warden staggers, you reach for your COMP, firing up the DSP. With a bow, Angel disappears back into the machine at your command. In her place, High Pixie appears, manifesting into reality with a cheery wave and a mid-air courtesy. She looks like she’s going to do more, if the open arms are any indication, but her cheerful mood evaporates the instant she sees the advancing automaton.

“Master Adrian!” She yelps, pointing a trembling finger at the construct. “What in Danu’s name is that…is that thing?!”

“A construct brought to life by magic, magnitite and Corruption,” You answer blithely, gesturing for Pyro Jack to flood the hallway. Once more, his lantern flares and a gout of flame roars into the passageway. “I’m gonna need buffs for all of us, Rangda included. Got it? We gotta take this thing if we wanna get out of here and save Christmas!”

Her face hardens and she nods, determined and ready. “Yes, master! Casting now!”

>Your combat parameters have increased by one level!

You take a deep breath as you feel High Pixie’s magic flowing through your body. Down the sights of the Caner, your perception of the warden increases, as does your strength and natural defenses. “Alright! Hope you've got a sweet tooth, big guy!”

You squeeze the trigger…

>Roll 1d100 + 30 Combat (+10 Luster Candy, + 20 Combat)
>Best of three

Rolled 89 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1007038

Rolled 83 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1007038

>>1007038
dice+1d100+30

Rolled 14 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1007038
>>1007070
You put the dice in the options/email box.

>>1007243
Thank you Anon

Back from break. Typing now...

>>1007045
>>1007067
>>1007070
There’s a sonorous POP as the .38 cartridge explodes, launching the candy cane from the barrel of the gun. It shrieks down the hallway, parting the flames of Pyro Jack’s spell as it races towards the warden. To everyone’s surprise, the candy cane does not only remain intact after impact, but also penetrates a solid four inches into the construct’s armor.

The warden groans, staggering back under the force of the blow. The projectile has embedded itself at least four, maybe five inches to the right side of the sternum exactly where the lungs would be. You estimate that with a radius of two inches, the hole in its chest would only get bigger the further the cane went in.

Given its nature as a wooden construct, you’re surprised that when its free hand moves towards the weapon, it fumbles at trying to grip it, armored fingers slick with some sort of…blood? Whatever it is, you landed a solid hit.

It eventually gives up at removing the projectile, seemingly content to let black blood fall down its body in slow rivulets. When they strike the floor, the fluid hisses, and a horrible stench fills the air. Some sort of acid then, you theorize as you cover your nose. Distant you may be, but you have little desire to inhale the fumes created by the byproduct of an acidic reaction.

With the sound of clanking metal, the warden lurches forward, bringing its halberd to bear against the barricade. Dark light plays around the edge of the weapon, and an inhuman screaming rises from the flickering magic that gathers at the tip. The air becomes charged, causing the hair on your skin to stand up on its end.

There's almost an audible click as your mind finally registers what's happening. “Oh, you have got to be shitting-”

>Roll 1d100 + 30 to DODGE (+10 Luster Candy, +20 Combat)
>Best of three

Rolled 28 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1007499

Rolled 85 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1007499

Rolled 87 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1007499

Rolled 35 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1007499

>>1007522
>>1007528
>>1007536
Somehow, you manage to throw yourself back into a sturdier partition of the corridor as the lighting blasts out of the warden’s halberd. There is an explosion when the bolt hits the barricade, and a sharp pain as your right ear suffers the brunt of the noise. Debris and dust flies everywhere, peppering your Kevlar jacket with little splinters and fragments of wood and stone. You brush the worst of it out of your face, grimacing as you peak out from behind a sturdier wall.

All that’s left of the barricade is a large scorch mark in the stone and a small crater about a food wide. The center of the structure is completely gone, and the last solid pieces of it are barely large enough to cover you while you crouch, let alone prone on the ground. There are still pieces that are falling from the ceiling as the warden retracts its weapon, seemingly pleased with itself.

You quickly snap out of your shock, a plan already formulating itself in your mind as you shout orders towards your demons. That bolt of whatever the fuck that was is something that you DO NOT want to get hit with. At all costs. Damage to the heart aside, you have next to no idea what the magical effects are.

Still, you’re alive, but on borrowed time. Because if you don’t bring it down and Frosty doesn’t regain all his strength in time, then you’re little more than fish in a barrel…or rats in a tunnel as the case may be.

...maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Still, where there's a will, there's away! But first, you need a plan...

>Call for Frosty’s aid.
>Fall back to the main armory.
>Reload the Caner.
>Use an elemental stone.
>Custom option.

>>1007608
>>Use an elemental stone.
Agidyne.

>>1007608
>>Use an elemental stone.
use one of every flavor except lightin and ice!

>>1007608
>>Use an elemental stone.

>>1007608
>>1007628
I'll back this

>>1007608
>>1007635
Also Have our demons Buff and debuff MORE. Once we've maxed stacks Have Rangda UNLOAD.

>>1007620
>>1007628
>>1007635
>>1007638
>>1007687
Lightning seems to be a null point, and ice is out the window as per Frosty’s information. That leaves force as its logical weakness…no, fire was also one, on a technicality. How the hell did Pyro Jack miss a shot in a funneled hallway? Regardless, you motion over to Rangda, who has taken shelter with the aforementioned Jack on the opposite side of the hallway.

“Buffs and debuffs,” You hiss as you reach into your pocket. “If nothing else, we can at least get the guy to be more vulnerable to attack and have ourselves at the maximum. So cast it now, and the next time you’re able to. After that, we unload everything we’ve got at the warden…”

Your eyes flicker towards the bundle of dynamite that’s in your corner of the hallway. Putting that information aside for later, you gesture for your demons to commence the counter attack. “Now!”

\Rangda and High Pixie chant and sing, filling the air with a dissonant melody of Hindu and Old English as they cast their magic spells. Once more, you feel the rush of your fairy’s magic flowing through your body, coursing through limb and vein to fill you with strength, endurance and heightened perception. And like before, the warden reels back as the witch’s Debilitate takes hold of its body.

Pyro Jack quickly follows through, once more sending a torrent of flames racing towards the construct. And at the same time, you select the desired stone in your pocket. Pulling it out, you confirm that it is indeed the right stone you wish to use, just before you crust it in the palm of your hand…

>Use an Agidyne stone.
>Use a Zandyne stone.

>>1007715
>>Use a Zandyne stone.

>>1007715
>>Use a Zandyne stone.

>>1007715
>Use a Zandyne stone.

>>1007715
>>Use a Zandyne stone.

>>1007725
>>1007732
>>1007737
>>1007739
Unlike the burning heat of an Agi stone, the sensation that fills you upon crushing the Force stone is a desire to be free, to be loosed and released. This is the wind that glides through the land, unfettered and beholden to no master save for the whims of nature. At times, it is a gentle and soothing breeze, but now, it is the raw fury of the storm.

What comes out of your hand when you point it at the warden resembles more of a tornado more than anything else. It quickly snuffs out the flames that have taken to the construct’s armor, and carries with it any and all debris in the hallway. Wood and stone, dust and ash, all of this and more are borne upon the winds that slice into the automaton’s body.

Sparks fly as the blades of wind cut into the armor, screeching as they grind against time-tested metal. The warden slams its weapon into the ground, hoping to find purchase as the winds push it back, further down into the long and narrow hallway. It is a slow process. It only gives an inch at first, and then surrenders half of a foot after the next second. By the time the winds die and the debris returns once more to the ground, Krampus’ construct has fallen all the way back to the portal’s entrance.

There appears to be no sign of penetration or more of the black blood, but the winds still had a lasting visual effect on the target. Its armor, once shiny and pristine, is now covered in dust and grime, dented and scratched. The candy cane in its chest (you can’t believe you’ve had to say that) appears to have penetrated even deeper than before, nearly halfway into the breastplate.

But perhaps the biggest takeaway is how the monster itself is immobile. Its limbs shake and creak in protest as it tries to assume a battle position, only to struggle helplessly as its raiment refuses to budge. The halberd in its hands drops from nerveless fingers, hitting the floor with a mighty CRASH. That’s the signal that snaps you out of your analysis, that alerts to you that now…the warden is vulnerable.

>You have discovered the Warden’s weakness!

>All-Out Attack
>Fall back to the armory.
>Reload the Caner.
>Use an Elemental Stone.
>Custom option.

>>1007808
>>Reload the Caner.

>>1007808
>>All-Out Attack

Have Rangda let loose with her Zan skills.

>>1007808
>>All-Out Attack

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>>1007808
>All-Out Attack
I've been waiting for this!

Gonna have to pass out for now. Got a follow-up job interview tomorrow. Will resume as soon as I finish that.

>>1007874
Goodnight Kaz. Thanks for running and good luck with the interview.

>>1007808
>All-Out Attack

Kaz is kill.

>>1015737
Had to grab a quick bite to eat. I'm here now and writing...

File: Branding Iron.png (14 KB, 187x250)

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>>1007814
>>1007835
>>1007857
>>1008042
The risk is high, but the reward is great. And the odds of you repeating this feat are low enough just to tempt your fate. Because right now, the stakes are as high as they’ve ever been, if not the highest they’ve ever been. There’s no way in hell that you’re gonna let some tin can nutcracker hold you back from punching Santa’s murderer in the face.

“Now!” You shout, leaping out of the corner. “Move in and attack while it’s down!”

Your demons follow right behind you, yelling their own boasts and challenges as they wind up for haymakers or prepare to cast magic. Rangda herself trails behind with you, cackling as razor sharp nails drag against the stone like some kind of macabre serial killer. Three demons and one Devil Summoner. Frosty is still behind in his recovering circle, but you suppose that you can let him be.

The construct’s armor bubbles when you drive the brand into its chest, and a foul stench of burning metal fills the air. Already knocked off-balance from the Force spells, it has no chance to recover, and a mighty crash echoes down the hallway as you pin it into the wall.

From behind the helm, you can see its eyes, even the shadow of its mouth in the dim torchlight of the distant armory. It distends, and though you feel no rush of breath or inhalation, you can still hear the sound of its screaming. The noise is horrific, the rumbling sound of a thousand voices whose screams and cries reverberate from within a metal drum, looping back into a continuous cacophony.

Its limbs thrash as you drive the brand deeper into its chest plate, slowly melting layer after layer of protection. By some pure stroke of luck, one of its gauntleted hands manage to take violent hold of the brand, nearly wrestling it from your hands after some involuntary twitch. The red orbs of its faceplate lock onto your eyes, burning so bright with unyielding hatred.

Pyro Jack and High Pixie quickly join the scene, attempting to batter and blast away at the warden’s exposed limbs. Out of fear for including you in the crossfire, they restrict themselves to smaller, less volatile magics, the lowest of the elemental spells available in their repertoire. Rangda herself has finer control, restricting her Force spells to the soles of its feet and its exposed arm. But even with the flame of the spirit’s flame and the desperate spells of the fairy and the witch, the monster refuses to go quietly.

There is a soft WHUMPH as you penetrate past the final layer of armor, bypassing cold steel and penetrating deep into the wooden chassis of its torso. A burst of fire rushes through the hole where the brand continues to cook the warden from the inside out. And its movements become wilder, more desperate as you drive your weapon further into the core of its being.

(cont.)

>>1016152
It screams, desperately trying to push you away with its inhuman strength.

You roar, desperately going for the killing blow with all the power you can muster.

And the winds of winter continue to howl through the dungeon as man and construct fight for their survival...

>Roll 1d100 Strength
>Best of three

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>1016160

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>1016160

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>1016160

Rolled 89, 54, 40 = 183 (3d100)

>>1016160
Rolling for the warden.

>>1016187
Fuck

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>1016160

>>1016187
>>1016160
Does x2 Debilitate and x2 Luster Candy factor in at all here?

>>1016225
Yes. So you guys did win the...what's the opposite of tug-o-war?

Writing...

>>1016234
push-o-scuffle

>>1016234
Push o war

>>1016234
push-o-peace?

>>1016234
That one scene in Saving Private Ryan.

File: Warden's Core.png (343 KB, 492x568)

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>>1016169
>>1016177
>>1016178
By the time it realizes that the balance of power has shifted, it is already too late.

With one final shout straight out of the epics of history, you tighten your grip on the brand and completely drive it through the warden’s torso. The color of the brand’s tip bypasses orange and goes straight to cherry pink as it reduces the outermost layers of the chassis to little more than ashes. Then, your thrust is met with resistance.

Deep in the construct’s chest, you can make out what appears to be some sort of crystalline sphere, pulsating with power. Upon encountering the searing tip of your weapon, the warden’s screams reach a fever pitch. Cracks begin to run along what you estimate to be the automaton’s power source as you drive the brand even deeper into its chest. The gauntlet around your weapon tightens, and the metal creaks and groans under the stress. But just as your will, it holds, refusing to bend or crack from the pressure.

Red meets green, the colors of your eyes meeting for one last time. Those eyes continue to burn, but it is not the emotion of hate that fills them. It is fear, that singular emotion that beings feel upon the instant of their deaths. You know not how this…this thing, little more than a demonic machine, can feel fear, nor even how you’re able to comprehend it.

A puzzling conundrum worth spending a thought on, but it nearly costs you.

In your hesitation, the second of the arms manages to seize hold of the brand. Time slows down as the interlocking pieces of its fingers slowly clink and form a grip around the shaft of the iron.

It is now or never.

“Hasta la vista, motherfucker.”

The armor seizes violently as you completely obliterate the warden’s core. It first cracks, then shatters underneath the heat and pressure of the brand. But you don’t stop there. Its limbs abandon the shaft, and instead try to reach for your throat, scrambling and clawing at your arms in some desperate attempt to bring you closer.

That’s when you twist the shaft, grinding the shards into a fine powder of glowing blue crystal.

With that action, the struggle finally comes to an end. A desolate groan reverberates through the hallway, a far cry from the cacophonous shrieks it had earlier made. The fires of its eyes dim, extinguished forever as the armor’s limbs collapse onto the floor, laying still long after the destruction of the core.

In the dim lighting of the hallway, straddling the hollow shell of a demonic automaton, you gather your breath and stand shakily to your feet and stumble against the wall. That…that had been too close. Way, way too close…if you had hesitated longer, or if you’d lost the struggle…

You shudder, but not from the chill air of the dungeon.

(cont.)

>>1016443
Okay, that was cool.

File: Frost Ace.png (879 KB, 768x576)

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“…incredible…”

Clad in the armor of his office, Frosty limps out of the armory and towards you and your demons. The adrenaline is still coursing through your body, but all you can do is manage a sluggish wave from where you’re slumped up against the stone. You’re not going to be moving any time soon.

High Pixie frantically darts around your body. Tittering worriedly, her hands glow with the white light typical of healing magic. Bruises on the arms…maybe a slight loss of hearing on your right side of your head. Just from this fight. On your way, you got your fair share of aches and pains that still need addressing.

The Commander of the Christmas Guard stares at the warden’s smoldering corpse before spitting at the armor. “…and nothing of value was lost. Well done. But I cannot think of whether that last act was one that deserves commendation or reprimanding.”

His voice has lost the rasp it carried through the exploration of the dungeon. It is stronger now, carrying with it the soprano typical of Frost demons, but tempered with the cool demeanor of a high-ranking demon. He flexes his arms, and the sound of tinkling metal accompanies the sound of your ragged breathing as he inspects his limbs.

“I have now returned to full power.” A grin appears on his face, one more suited for one of his species. “And with the warden defeated, all that’s left to do is take the keys off his body and-”

He is unable to finish his sentence. Outside of the hallway, an explosion rocks the dungeons. Your eyes flicker up, worried that the ceiling might collapse onto you as a fine layer of dust coats you and your demons. But it subsides, and the largest piece that falls is a stone no bigger than your fingernail.

Frosty’s eyes narrow. “What in the living-”

He’s unable to finish that one either. A series of voices echo through the walls of the dungeon, reverberating off the stone and mortar in a nearly unrecognizable mess. Nearly. As the voices come closer, becoming clearer with every second, your eyes widen as your brain registers who they belong to. And with that recognition comes a wide grin that you can’t even control.

“…all of them…no more left…think there’s a few still straggling around…not to worry…”

“That should be the last of the buggers…damn near came close to setting my arse on fire…”

“Quickly! The sounds came from over there…lowest level of the dungeon-”

“…there’s gonna be hell to pay...I swear to all the gods above and below…”

Four familiar faces plus their respective demons peer into the hallway. Victoria looks on with shock, quickly giving way to concern as she takes in your current state. Brady’s face is covered with soot, but his unpleasant sulk quickly gives way to one of surprised satisfaction at your grin. MacKay visibly sighs in relief, the lines on his face quickly de-aging him by at least an entire decade.

As for the last of them…

(cont.)

File: FitzAngry.png (94 KB, 442x562)

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The furious look on Fitz’s face remains on the verge of eruption as she stomps over to your prone form. You can’t help but flinch back as she rounds on you, gripping the hems of your jacket and yanking you up to eye level. High Pixie shrieks in indignation, the healing incomplete, and Pyro Jack’s eyes narrow. Rangda and Frosty merely look on, the latter with concerned confusion and the latter with an amused grin on her face.

“I swear to Jesus,” Fitz snarls, shaking you for emphasis with every few words. “If you ever make me worry like that ever again…I’m going to fucking bury you in the closest cemetery we can find.”

Huh. You’ve always wondered as to whether or not she lost her drawl whenever she was genuinely upset. It turns out that yes, she does in fact lose the tapering end of her accent when she’s pissed.

With that said...

“What I did?” You complain, trying for a weak smile. Behind the façade of her anger, you can see that she’s been worried sick about you. So your heart really isn’t that much into trying to rebuke her claims. “Krampus kidnapped me. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Well that sonofabitch isn’t here right now, is he?” She frowns at that, glancing down at the smoking husk of armor. Uncertain, she looks back to you. “…is he?”

You shake your head of your own volition. “Nah…that’s just…ah…one of his goons. You know, where were you guys? I really could’ve used your help.”

She completely ignores that, the look on her face giving way to tired relief. “You’re…you’re alright...” Her smile doesn’t last, quickly becomes a smirk in within a mere second. The drawl also comes back in force. No longer pissed, it seems. “Then that's good. No interruptions to worry about.”

Huh? “Inter-?”

Without any warning, Fitz shoves you up against the wall, pinning you against the stone with both her hands and her knee. You don’t even have time to grunt or complain before she closes the distance and presses her lips against yours in a violent kiss. She moves quickly, taking advantage of your surprised breath to slip her tongue into your mouth, and you can feel her grin at your own stupefied expression.

…well…this was…certainly and very much unexpectedly…bold of her…

She must’ve been really, REALLY worried when Krampus took you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you track the source of the choked noises that come down the hall. Brady’s mouth is wide open, his face contorted into one of…horrified curiosity? On the other hand, behind the hands covering her face, you can see Victoria’s cheeks have gone completely red. MacKay simply coughs, with only the lightest of blushes as he turns away from the spectacle.

You’re surprised you can even process that much, given how she’s moving, pulling herself closer against you…

>Kiss her back.
>Push her off.
>Custom option.

>>1016777
>>Kiss her back.

PIXIE COVER YOUR EYES!

>>1016777
>>Kiss her back.
I hope Brady's taking notes.

>>1016777
>>Kiss her back.

When that's done.
"You guys ready to save Christmas?"

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>>1016777
>>Kiss her back.
Lucky Trips and a kiss.

File: Brady's face when.jpg (45 KB, 625x540)

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>>1016808

Writing...

>>1016777
>>Push her off.
dunno why I'm even bothering

>>1016846
Not going to get Vic with that attitude.

>>1016777
>Kiss her back.

File: Fitz.png (102 KB, 444x557)

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>>1016793
>>1016808
>>1016816
>>1016833
>>1016946
…oh what the hell. You’re not about to deny that you’d been worried about her too. Besides, you’re not about to let your girlfriend win this confrontation without a fight. And that’s just the way she likes it.

You counter, pulling Fitz in as close as you can in spite of the combat gear. Her body is warm, a balm to the chill that clings to you from the environs of the dungeon. She writhes against you as your tongues grapple against each other, all the while fumbling at the helmet strap holding your hair in place.

With a snap, it comes off, and she throws the helmet off without even bothering to break off from contact. Fingers calloused from years spent handling firearms run along your jawline, then through your hair, sending shivers down your spine at the light points of contact. In retaliation, the hand at her neck trails back, slowly tracing a delicate line around that tiny little hollow of her neck…

It’s instant. She visibly shudders, and you can feel her lips trembling as the sensation races down her spine and all the way back up her nervous system.

Fitz – Zero.

Adrian – One.

You take advantage of her hesitation to double your assault, pressing the advantage as best you can. While Fitz still has you pressed up against the wall, you have the advantage of stability against the other…things she’s able to do to turn your legs to jelly. Things that you didn’t know about yourself until that night so many months ago…not that you’re about to do any of those things here and now.

Especially since most of them require an absence of clothes, not to mention combat gear. Still, you make do with what you can. Which is more than enough for you to emerge victorious from this spontaneous entanglement.

You tug at her lower lip, grinning as you her try and fail to repress a breath moan. Gently probing with both teeth and tongue, you can detect the sharp bite of combat rations both on her tongue and around her mouth. It’s heady mixture of sweet, salty and the tang of slaiva, a scent that you find so goddamn hot and you have no idea why. That’s so much like her, the allure, the aggression, her little oddities that captivate you…

All of the factors that constitute the wonderful woman you know and love.

Suddenly, you can feel her knee working its way up your lower thigh, agonizingly slow as it draws closer to your groin. Your eyes meet hers, and her cerulean flashes in a challenge, a provocation. If that’s the way she wanted to play, especially in a place like this…then she wouldn’t mind if the hand at her waist slowly begins to trail down, half-gloved fingertips gently tugging at her elastic belt-

“AHEM.”

(cont.)

File: a glorious kek.gif (3.38 MB, 700x285)

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>>1017187
WEW.

>>1017187
Those two are competitive aren't they?

>>1017187
All of a sudden, the temperature drops several degrees, and the steamy mood between the two of you cools down even faster. The two of you break off the kiss and simultaneously shriek as something large and cold slides down your backs, fumbling blindly at the source of the chill.

Frosty regards at the two of you with little more than a glowering look before he snaps his fingers and dispels the ice that’s slipped down the backs of your uniforms. “As much as I can appreciate a reunion between lovers, time is of the essence. We must hurry, and make our way back to the surface of the domain and penetrate Krampus’ inner sanctum.”

Now that the rose-tinted glasses are gone and reality has asserted itself once more, the full brunt of your actions slam back on the two of you. Fitz’s cheeks go as red as a tomato, and you yourself feel your cheeks heat up, and not in a good way either.

“…ah…sorry ‘bout that…” The policewoman mutters, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. “…just got…carried away…worried and all that…”

…Victoria’s face is still beet red, and Brady refuses to look at the two of you. Even the demons look scandalized, with High Pixie’s face the color of driven snow and Rangda chortling into her elbow.

“…right…” MacKay ventures, dispelling the awkward tension as best he can. “Still, it’s good to see you in one piece, Adrian.” He pauses, turning to Frosty. “And who are you?”

The demon stiffens before shrugging. “I go by many names, but I am perhaps known best to the world as Frosty.”

Victoria’s eyes widen. “Wait, hold up. As in…the snowman? Like…’happy, jolly soul’?”

“While I’m currently neither of those moods at the moment, I am indeed the snowman of which your songs sing about.”

“No shit?” Brady whistles. “Huh…that said, you said something about giving Krampus a real good kick to the stones?”

“…yeah…he’s right.” With the haze of the mood completely gone, you can feel the embarrassment coming on in full force as everyone’s eyes lock onto you. “Er…Santa was destroyed by Krampus, and if we don’t stop him by midnight…then he takes over Santa’s position as Father Christmas.”

Their reactions are varied to say the least, ranging the gamut from horrified to enraged. Especially MacKay, who looks downright apocalyptic.

“…yeah. So…if we don’t have any more business here…” Your foot lashes out, catching the shaft of the branding iron that lays askance on the floor. With a grunt, you let it fly straight up into the air and right into your grasp, swinging it a few times before slamming it down with a severe finality. “Who’s ready to save Christmas?”

>Choose an option:
>Head straight to Krampus.
>Help the Vatican agents.

>>1017436
>>Help the Vatican agents.
More fire power is needed.

>>1017436
>Help the Vatican agents.

>>1017436
>>Help the Vatican agents.
They've been on decoy duty for a minute. They might need back up (probably not, Italian Revy and all).

>>1017436
>>Head straight to Krampus.

File: time to operate.jpg (156 KB, 664x960)

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>>1017436
>>Help the Vatican agents.

>>1017436
>>Help the Vatican agents.

File: Walsh in Action.png (643 KB, 1280x939)

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>>1017440
>>1017443
>>1017445
>>1017474
>>1017517
The first thing that comes to mind at the words “Vatican agents” is the image of two monks or priest chanting Latin and waving pots of incense. You frown when MacKay fills you in on the details as you sprint up the stairs of the dungeon and out onto the street proper. Teenagers, fighting on behalf of the Holy Inquisition?

Shaking your head, you resolve not to ask too many questions as the five of you sprint down the abandoned streets of the North Pole. Or rather, the domain of Father Christmas. It still seems so surreal, the fact that the North Pole is a demon’s domain. A benevolent one, but a demon’s domain nonetheless. Still, if it isn’t for the demonic automatons and traces of corruption, you might’ve even enjoyed a longer stay just to check out the sights.

Alas, you learned all too well that prolonged R&R is but a joke and a distant, stretch dream of Carina Squad.

It doesn’t take too long to find the Vatican’s Summoners. All you really have to do is follow the sound of explosions and the sights of pillars of light. The snow is relatively compact from the forces of Krampus constantly marching around the town, so what would normally be a ten or fifteen minute slog through the snow was reduced to a five minute brisk walk. None of you are insane enough to sprint through ice-covered cobblestone.

The southern entrance of the settlement is a warzone. Hunkered up in a half-collapsed building with a second floor that’s semi-functional, you have as best of a bird’s eye view as you’re going to get. Dozens of nutcracker corpses lie scattered across the snow in various states of disrepair. Some have been crushed, others torn apart and even melted. You can’t even begin to count how many servants had Krampus had in his employ, let alone how powerful are the Vatican agents and/or their demons are to wreak such havoc.

It turns out that it’s a mixture of both. About a hundred feet out from the main gate, you can see two figures and four demons engaging a squad of eight guards. You can hear the distant BANG of the young girl’s pistols as she dances circles around the demons. Hovering by Conningway’s side, you can see an angel of the Dominion and Virtue rankings blasting away at the constructs with both elemental and Expel magic with varying degrees of success.

Yet it’s the young man called Walsh that stands out. Even with the binoculars, you can’t make out the details of his face. But you can see him fighting at the side of his demons, with no sound coming from him save for the splintering CRACK that happens when his fists meet the wooden chassis of a guard.

“…is he…fighting hand-to-hand with the jailers? Without as much as a gun or sword?” Frosty’s eyes are wide. “I take it back, Brown. I’ve found someone even more foolishly brave than you!”

The Caner on your back suddenly weighs heavier...

>Choose two demons:
>Angel
>High Pixie
>Gryphon
>Pyro Jack

>>1017581
>High Pixie
>Pyro Jack

Explosions.

>>1017581
>>High Pixie
>>Pyro Jack
Best combo.

>>1017581
>>High Pixie
>>Pyro Jack

EXPLOSIONS!
COLLATERAL DAMAGE!
LOUD NOISES!

>>1017581
>High Pixie
>Pyro Jack

>>1017581
We still have the Caner, good, but did the rest of the squad grab anything? They lacked weaponry (I think), and we just came from an armory.

>>1017618
Nah man, too busy sucking face and watching. Still great.

>>1017618
Fitz grabbed the Horn of Plenty. Everyone else grabbed Pepperbox machine guns.

Writing...

File: Pyro_Jack_appears.jpg (61 KB, 1280x720)

61 KB JPG

>>1017589
>>1017594
>>1017600
>>1017605
You need to take out the remaining guards as quickly as you can, with as much damage and range as you can possibly muster. For that, there’s only two demons in your stock that come to mind.

While Fitz is still fumbling with her COMP, High Pixie is doing her best to glare daggers into the back of your girlfriend’s neck. She’s probably still upset about her getting frisky with you while you still had injuries to treat, and even more so when you responded so…enthusiastically. Still, she appears and greets you with a tight smile and a half-hearted wave. More than enough for you in her books.

Pyro Jack remains his usual dour self. MacKay says that the snow has abated somewhat, but the Spirit of Haloween is still skeevy about being in the cold in sub-zero temperatures. Which is odd considering how he has a flame in his lantern, but you suppose you’d be skeeved if you had an Ice weakness.

Still, he bears it for the team, remaining stoic as the five of you set up a position right behind the flanks of the reserve unit. All in total, it’s a veritable Horde of constructs. You can estimate at least…fifteen.

That’s so unfair…for the guards.

“Is everyone ready?” You hiss, taking aim with the Caner. When you showed them the weapon, Fitz had nearly laughed herself to death, hugging her sides while tears streamed from her face. That put you in a definitive sulk. So what if you had a think for impossibly impossible guns? Still, she had the good humor to grab the Horn of Plenty. Closest thing to a shotgun in her book, apparently.

“Ready.” Your teem replies, equally terse but ready and in position. The rest of the humans are armed with the pepperbox machine guns, as well as the armory of elemental stones in their vests. This isn’t going to be a skirmish.

It’s gonna be a goddamn massacre.

>High Pixie will use…
>Megido
>Mazio
>Zio
>Luster Candy

>Pyro Jack will use…
>Marai
>Agialo
>Other

Gonna call it quits for now. Got another early shift tomorrow. Will resume in the afternoon.

>>1017646
>>Luster Candy
>Agialo
Don't be Jelly, Pixie. You're still number 1 in my book.

>>1017646
Pixie stacks LC up to 3 then Megidos. Jack spams Maragi

>>1017646
>Megido
>Maragi

One LC at most. I want to get at least one Megido in before the fight ends.

>>1017646
Thanks for running. I'd say we've got another few days til we fall off the board.

Did we ever get a formal justification as to why human/demon relations are not ok, but human/human inter-team ones are? Seems like they'd risk a team's ability to work together just the same.

>>1017684
I'll type something up tomorrow. It's in my notes somewhere.

>>1017684
I like to imagine the breach in conduct here is being played up cause it's a special as opposed to the regular thread. I'd imagine the two are smart enough to be not be as...overt when on the job even if there are inevitable extra worries with a loved one in combat.

>>1017684
I can't say for demon/human relations other than humans are mortal, demons are immortal, so the demon half will feel like shit after the human dies.

As for inter-team relationships, in the normal workforce, this is a semi-regular thing, companies and such just want the employees to be professional about it and if it breaks off, don't let the drama impede your work. Most of the time it does.

Also, Kaz, has Adrian tone down the woman killing since he got with Fitz in this special timeline? Or is he still the sexy hunk of man that women love and does Fitz get jelly or just smug she claimed that ass?

>>1017701
This. If you play your cards right in canon, then the two of you would definitely be more discreet. I'm just having fun because of the nature of the thread as a non-canon Christmas romp.

>>1017719
He's definitely toned it down. Because the last thing he needs is pissing off Fitz. Not that she gets easily jealous as much as it is the usual couple dynamic that dislikes one's S.O. flirting with other people. And as for smug or jelly...Fitz leans towards smug. But that's just because she actively thrives on their mutual interactions, and not because she wants to rub it in someone's face.

>>1017646
>Megido

>>Maragi
use the crowd clearers while there's a crowd to clear. 3-4 spray and prays is going to lay down quite some aoe.

>>1017646
>megido
>Maragi
Destroy them all. Don't leave even one trace of their existence.

Kaz hates his anons.

>>1021666
Writing...

File: Megido.jpg (86 KB, 894x894)

86 KB JPG

>>1017676
>>1018504
>>1019252
“Crowd control, got it? I want these guys out of our hair as fast as possible.” You check your watch. If your time is correct, then you’ve still got eight or so hours before midnight. With that said, you have no desire to drag out the conflict for some dramatic, last-second victory. “The sooner we get to them, the quicker we get to Krampus.”

High Pixie and Pyro Jack nod, as do the rest of your squad as they give commands to their demons. Rangda merely nods, while Frosty draws a sword. You think about telling the demon to use ranged attacks, but you shrug, continuing to direct the squad into overwatch positions. He’s his own commander, and it would be nothing short of an insult to his pride if a mere human, allied though you may be, was to give him orders.

You flick the safety off the Caner and aim for one of the closer models, an automaton about fifty feet out. The effective range of this thing is anyone’s guess, especially with your projectiles, but given its velocity…who knows? You might get lucky.

“On the count of three…” You hiss, and your teammates line up their targets. “One…”

The air vibrates as the demons around you prepare their spells, gathering energy in their hands and casting mediums.

“Two…”

Frosty has closed his eyes, bringing the sword to his lips in a traditional knight’s salute before returning a baleful gaze to battlefield.

“Three!”

And all hell breaks loose as your squad fires.

The Pepperbox guns your friends wield cut a devastating line into the combatants. While the high-speed peppermint does not fell any of the creatures, they still stagger and reel from the force of the impact. Even from this distance, you can hear what sounds like popcorn ringing and clanging off of metal parts and pieces.

Their staccato burst is accompanied by a large BOOM as Fitz aims the Cornucopia of Plenty and pulls the trigger. You only had a brief glimpse of what came out, and you swear to God that it looked like a ham. To your relief yet simultaneous disappointment, the ham is not, in fact, a ham. Upon hitting the ground, the object detonates, and a fiery ball of orange consumes a trio of nutcrackers, scattering the rest from the force of the blast.

Soon after, your demons unleash their magics. Flame, wind and thunder blast out from your position. Now aware of the situation, some of the smarter ones leap and dodge out of the way, either through pure luck or sheer happenstance of range.

But not so much for High Pixie, though. As if lobbing a ball, the little fairy unleashes a ball of pure quintessence into the fray. It quivers, trembling in the snow before it expands rapidly, going from the size of a pea to that of a basketball in but a mere heartbeat. Those caught in the expanding sphere can do naught as the magic literally breaks them down at the subatomic level.

(cont.)

File: AceAttack.gif (804 KB, 300x208)

804 KB GIF

“For Christmas!” Frosty raises his sword high into the air, leaping over the barricade to rush out onto the battlefield before anyone can stop him. You refrain from cursing, leaving that to Brady and Fitz as you struggle to plan around this unexpected development. Dammit to hell. At least with the Vatican agents further away, you don’t have THAT much to fear.

But with Frosty going headlong into the melee? Good as he may be (behading one of the constructs with only a single swing is no small feat), it completely screws up your fire discipline. How…disappointing. It’s a common saying that no plan survives first contact, but really? The plan failed because one of your comrades decided to be a hothead?

Sigh.

Either way, you’ve got a bead on a target, a nearby one who seems to be trying to sneak away. From the destruction. Well, now that just won’t do. Tracking him as best you can through the smoke, explosions and flying body parts, your eyes narrow as you squeeze the trigger…

>Roll 1d100 + 20 Combat
>Best of three.

Rolled 16 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1021883

Rolled 68 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1021883

Rolled 7 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1021883
rollin

>>1021888
>>1021890
>>1021903
That was very close to a friendly fire incident.

Resuming tomorrow afternoon...

>>1021903
..that was appallingly bad.
>>1021986
Thanks for running.

>>1021888
>>1021890
>>1021903
The bad news is that instead of punching a hole straight through one of the nutcrackers, you manage to shear off one of its arms just from grazing the damn thing. But the good news is that it missed Frosty by a good three feet, leaving the snow fairy free to run one of the nutcrackers through. The striped candy shrieks through the air, eventually disappearing into the distant hillside with little to leave behind save for a puff of snow.

Thankfully, no one had borne witness to you nearly impaling your fellow escapee. No witnesses, no evidence…as far as your concerned, that was a shot well planed and aimed! You were totally aiming for the fucker’s arm, no doubt about-

“Look out!” Brady’s panicked voice cuts through both your thoughts and the air. “They’re gonna-”

Outnumbered and outgunned, the last of the nutcracker forces congregate together. Those with broken limbs and battered forms are raised to protect their betters from the onslaught of bullet and spell, twenty shattered forms protecting a measly fifteen. Even through the winds of winter, blowing snow and ice through the air, you can still clearly their eyes change, turning from an icy blue to a deep, burning red.

“Kill them all, quickly!” Frosty shouts, retreating from the battlefield as fast as he possibly can. “If you don’t, then they’ll explode!

The blood in your veins goes cold. Didn’t the others…say something about a self-destruct?

Fitz is the first to recover, cursing even as she reloads the cornucopia. The others are quick to follow her lead, hastily raising their weapons and unleashing their attacks into the concentrated mass. Husks of twisted metal fall as the onslaught begins anew, but even through the desperation, more than enough remain, too many still stand.

“How big of a blast radius?!” She shouts, taking aim at a cluster of them.

The demon shudders, a horrible look coming over his face. His eyes are distant, focusing on a distant memory far away from the present. “With those numbers…enough to consume the immediate area and scour it with the element of quintessence.”

Quintessence. The most powerful of all the elements, of which few demons could cast, let alone resist. The old books say that it is the very element from which the gods created their realms, as well as what constitutes their very immortal beings. And through the ages, this power has been wielded not only as one for creation, but for destruction as well.

It is almost appropriate how the most infamous of them are named. Tel Megiddo, after all, is said to be the site of the final battle between the Christ and the Devil in the Book of Revelation, when the world itself ends. Because, as you mentioned earlier, it’s magic that attacks its victims on the subatomic level.

And now…you’re trapped within simultaneous explosions of the element without shielding, both physical and magical.

Simply put: “We’re fucked.”

(cont.)

File: Devil Summoner Walsh.png (660 KB, 675x900)

660 KB PNG

>>The Vatican’s Agent
Your alias is Walsh, but unlike the other names you take for missions, you admit that you hold a certain fondness for this one. The man who raised you wore that name well, and was as good a surrogate father as one could be. Considering your dark and troubling past…that is high praise from you.

There’s a certain irony about that, enough to quirk your lips into a sardonic smirk. That, which by all means and to your relation is the [Future] of this world…a certain quote about time being an incoherent mess of things comes back to you. A rare piece of the Old World that made it through the Upheaval, now little more than something to order on the internet. Such are the times you live in...

No, you won’t think of it like that. Where you came from remains as your [Past]…but it won’t be their [Future].

That is, if you can get out of this rather troublesome situation.

Over the course of causing a distraction, the two of you were able to prevent a few of them from blowing up too close. Not all of them, though, and several were able to detonate before it was too late. The sick fucker who designed them (Krampus, no surprise there) engineered them to maximize the damage output. On top of Almighty energy, shrapnel had been a nasty mother to deal with.

Lorelei had nearly run herself ragged casting reflective magic to stave off the worst of the fragments, and healing the flesh ravaged by quintessence. Another set of wounds to decorate your already-scarred body. What’s a few more what would be covered by long clothing anyway?

Still, you doubt that there’d be enough healing magic and fabric to go around if you don’t do anything about the impending explosion. One of them was enough to turn a six foot radius into a scorched rock. But a dozen of them, and a few broken ones still left? You’d return home to Inquisitor Zolomerwich in a matchbox-

“Yer in a real jam now, arin’t ya, kid?”

The voice echoes in your skull, and you clench your teeth as the voice of that old bastard fills your head. You don’t even need to make a conscious effort to envision the face that haunts you in your sleep…the image of a leering skull, whose eyes leer at you from a dark mask adorned with a mane of flaming hair.

“Come on now…take it…my power…you’ve never been more justified to do so than now…”

“Shut up…” You mutter, taking care not to look out of place. Conningway is too busy emptying out her guns, desperately trying to take out as many constructs as she can. Your partner fails to notice you talking to yourself, to the voice in your head. “I can’t kill them all if you’re just gonna distract me.”

(cont.)

File: 1474907147038.jpg (68 KB, 500x321)

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“Distract you?” The being’s voice takes on a scathing edge, dripping with sarcasm. “I’m tryin’ to keep us alive, you ungrateful shite. Don’t forget what happens if you die…”

The metal handle of your gun creaks in protest as your fist tightens around the grip. Visions of a girl with hair the color of your own, lying comatose on a bed. The sound of her raged breath is accompanied by the dull pulse of a machine, spelling out the slow beat of her life in little tiny beeps…

You snarl as you direct Power to fry the nearest automatons. Ozone fills your mouth as the angel’s sword crackles with electricity. “I know what happens. I knew that the moment we made that deal. You don’t need to remind me every five goddamn minutes!”

“Clearly, I need to do it more often. Because right now, you’re being a little shite who refuses to see reason.”

Seeing reason? What a joke. That’s rich coming from him.

“You know what my power can do, you’ve heard it all, seen it all! All you have to do is swear your service to me…”

“Fuck off, Kyubey.” Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a vial of blue liquid that you toss to Lorelei. The Germanic fairy accepts it with a weary thanks before quaffing the drink in a single gulp. No more than two seconds later, she’s already resumed her magics, both offensive and defensive in nature. “We can kill them all in no time…”

For a moment silence reigns, leaving you with more than a few seconds to resume killing the constructs. More fall underneath the combined fire of the Vatican and the Task Force, hitting the snow as their eyes extinguish. But it isn't enough. For every one you fell, there's still more than enough left, with eyes that continue to burn ever brighter as the battle drags on.

That’s when he decides to change tactics. “They’re over there, you know…” You can almost feel the grip on your head, jerking you towards the further end of the battlefield where the Task Force is entrenched. “Trying to come up with their own plan…but I dunnae think they have anything in mind…”

Viewing them back in Washington was hard enough with just one of them present. But with their rescued leader, the image completes itself. The infamous Carina Squad is whole once more, reunited with their leader, one Adrian Brown.

...your nails dig into your palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Smugness and gross self-satisfaction oozes from the voice. “…you may as well take comfort, because this time around…you’ll actually die with them…but you’ll leave her all alone, trapped in her nightmares and unable to move…how selfish of you…”

That’s the final straw.

>Accept demon’s power.
>Reject the demon’s power.

>>1025904
>>Accept demon’s power.
#YOLO

>>1025904
>>Accept demon’s power.
Damn you, Xander Mobus.

>>1025904
>>Reject the demon’s power.
we got this.

>>1025904
>Reject the demon’s power.
Not Today Satan! I'm a good Catholic!

>>1025904
>>Reject the demon’s power.

>>1025968
>>1025972
>>1025987
You take a deep breath, exhaling as you fire off another shot at one of the automatons. “There’s probably going to be a time when I call for you. But today isn’t that day. And until it comes, I’m going to keep turning you down, no matter how hard you try to twist the knife.

“So shut the fuck up and let me do my job, alright? I’m already slaying demons for you. What more do you need?”
There’s a silence in your mind for the first time in ages. In spite of the shouting and gunfire that’s surrounding you, it actually feels…peaceful. From this, you can deduce three things: your headmate is either shocked at your disrespect, impressed on the balls on you, or boiling mad and about to immolate you from the inside out.

It’s a die roll at this point. Not that you have the money to do so. Still, you don’t even have time to wager before it’s broken.
“…yer stubborn, but there’s something to be admired in yer thick-headedness,” the voice intones. “At least you’ve the sense to not rush blindly into deals with gods or demons.”

Rushing blindly…those are words better suited for her than for you.

Then, the voice adopts a sterner edge. “But don’t forget that gods don’t take no for an answer layin’ down. I’m not immune to cheek, even from a favored human.”

You smirk. Well, favored human at the moment. Whether or not that lasted for the remainder of your years together remains a mystery that even you can’t solve. Just your presence here is enough to shift the winds of chaos. Butterfly effect, essentially.

But, you digress. You’re still in mortal peril, so you quickly return your attention towards the-

“HIT THE FUCKING FLOOR!”

Above the howl of the winds, you can hear the harsh voice bellowing, one that is definitely feminine with just the slightest but of Southern drawl. Even with limited intelligence and an absolute desert of information to rely on, you know who that person it.

In the distance, Operative Fitzgerald raises her…cornucopia? You blink, scratching your eyes to make sure you aren’t seeing things. A…cornucopia. As a viable weapon on the battlefield. But considering the sharpened candy cane that emerged from the underground to embed itself into a nearby tree trunk.

(cont.)

…maybe it’s best not to consider it. Because if you think about it some more, your fragile position in the grand view of things is only going to get more ridiculous. You’re already fighting in the North Pole for heaven’s sake.

Either way, it seems that the Task Force agents have come up with some sort of plan. One involving explosives, apparently, and Frosty the Commander extracting a nutcracker’s magnetite core. You can hear it yelping, cursing and screeching as it sprints back to the entrenchment with the volatile core in its hands. He hands it to Fitz, who begins to tinker with it…what on earth…

Then it clicks. And then you really grin. “Conningway, down!” You pull her back, violently yanking the collar of her shirt once you make sure she’s out of bullets. Her eyes turn towards you, surprised. “What the hell-”

With only a second to spare, you somehow manage to get her down just in time before Operative Fitzgerald launches her own custom grenade in the enemy’s midst. One comprised of equal measures of exploding ham, and a fair share of magnetite cores.

The grenade explodes upon crashing into the chest of the closest guard, going up in an orange-red cloud of smoke. With the additional bonus of the quintessence in the grenade, the power of the explosion is enough to cause the outer guard and his two buddies to detonate. The explosion itself is large enough to completely and utterly beat them back. Little wonder why their frowning, then.

Soon after, another of the constructs explodes, caught in the radius of the first explosion. And one by one, like dominos, they all eventually explode. Slowly, but surely, her explosion moves inwards, quickly making short work of the outer guards even as it breaches the inner sanctum of the automaton’s wall.

It’s like a scene from that old tv show, cobbling together stuff to see if it works. Triggering waves of staggering explosions as opposed to a singular, synchronized mess turns out to be much neater than you thought. And though the explosions are still worrisome, coming too close to comfort (enough to feel the heat and have your barricade peppered with shards of fragment), it’s still definitely preferred to both accepting the voice’s deal, as well as actually dying.

You can taste the element in the air, that eclectic sensation and smell of the very air itself breaking down. And as the last shockwave fades away, receding into the earth and far over the hills, you look up to find a land of ruin. No whole piece remains of the automaton army, and the biggest fragment, an armored hand, is no bigger than your forearm. These things are dust.

The smirk on your lips is in full force now, even as ash like snow falls from the overhead sky, a side effect of the destruction that litters the area.

(cont.)

“See?” You gesture towards them. Conningway looks at you with a surprised frown on her face, even as you unseeingly gloat with pride at the voice in your head. “I told you. They aren’t as bad as you think they are…and they always have a plan B out of hell.”

>>Adrian Brown

>Roll 1d100 + 30 Loot
>Best out of five.

Taking nap. Will resume first thing in the morning. For real. Because my brain is now hardwired to wake up at an ungodly hour.

Rolled 32 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1026213

Rolled 47 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1026213
>inb4 nat 1

Rolled 66 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1026213

Rolled 75 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1026213

Rolled 84 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>1026213

File: Santa's Workshop.jpg (254 KB, 1600x936)

254 KB JPG

>>1026217
>>1026218
>>1026220
>>1026223
>>1026232
Thank God your girlfriend once rode with the police’s demolitions team. Because as far as your memory goes, you and explosives haven’t seen eye-to-eye. The charges in the Cocytus generators, that little incident on the highway with Orias…the list goes on and on…

Either way, Fitz’s plan leaves the battlefield strewn with craters and nutcracker corpses alike. There’s not much left that isn’t twisted metal or smoldering ruin, but what remains among the wreckage definitely makes up for its quality.

The cores of the soldiers that failed to detonate can be found under several layers of metal. It takes no small amount of time to delicately carve them out of their chassis, but it’s worth the wait. Pyro Jack says that if you throw ‘em, they’ll detonate just as any grenade or elemental stone would. Now that’s a treat! Considering the fact that Miss K charges up the ass for Almighty stones, you’re definitely taking what you can while you can.

>You received 2x Megidola Stone!

“Thank you for the aid…” The kid says, forcing a smile on his face. Walsh looks way too damn old for a teenager, with only a few inches short of coming up to your height. The fact that his eyes look eerily similar to patients that you’ve treated with PTSD doesn’t do him any favors. “It comes greatly…appreciated.”

He stumbles over that last line as you smile and offer a hand. “Don’t sweat it. It’s the least I can do for someone else in the business of devil busting.”

Walsh eyes your hand warily. But at the last possible moment, he takes it, giving it a vigorous squeeze and pump.

“So this is the guy you’re supposed to rescue?” The girl, Conningway, gives you a look-over. She seems to be disappointed at what she sees in you, but shrugs. “Can’t see why he’s so special.”

MacKay quickly interjects before you and/or Fitz could mouth off at her. “That doesn’t matter. But what does is that Krampus has no more automatons to rely on should we go straight to him.”

Frosty nods. “Correct. For him to call reinforcements during a battle would be nothing short of disastrous. Now that we have mitigated that threat, we shall have nothing to worry about when we head off to fight him.”

“Yeah…but where is he?” Victoria points out, checking the bottom of her Pepperbox. “You never did tell us where the demon’s holed up.”

“Ah…that’s right. My apologies.” Clearing his throat, Frosty points towards a distant building in the settlement, a dilapidated complex entirely made of wooden logs. Faded decorations hang from the roof, and the strings of lights chance between flickering and dimming every few seconds. It must have been a sight to behold, once. But not anymore. “Krampus has taken residence in the abandoned husk of Father Christmas’ workshop.”

(cont.)

You squint, putting your hand to your face as you gaze off towards the distance. “Huh. Damn, that’s gonna be a bit of a walk, don’t you think?”

“DON’T WORRY. I’LL SAVE YOU THE TROUBLE OF COMING TO ME.”

>Roll 1d100 + 20 to DODGE
>Best of three

Rolled 65 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1028125
Oh shit, back attacks.

Rolled 9 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1028125
>1d100 + 20

Rolled 74 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1028125

File: here we go.jpg (32 KB, 429x519)

32 KB JPG

Rolled 56 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>1028125

>>1028130
>>1028133
>>1028137
>>1028214
You only have a second for your instincts to scream at you to move, and you obey them without asking why. Just as you throw yourself as far away as you possibly can, the sound of shattering glass echoes across the battlefield. The closest you can compare it to is someone taking a hammer and throwing it through a store of fine china, but amplified by an exponential degree.

The noise ravages your ears, leaving you stunned as you push yourself onto your feet. You can feel you legs shaking as they struggle to find balance. Shaking your head in an attempt to alleviate the symptoms of nausea and unbalance only makes it worse.

Thankfully, you’re able to keep the worst of it down.

Not Brady, though. The sound of him dry-heaving into the snow provide an odd accompaniment to the sound of ringing in your eardrums.

“GET UP, SUMMONERS. WERE YOU NOT GOING TO TAKE THE FIGHT TO ME?”

There’s a whoosh of air, and the impact of something kicking you in the stomach. Ribs crack as you go flying, and you can taste blood coming up from the back of your throat as you crash back onto the ground. The snow dampens the impact somewhat, but it isn’t enough to stop the wind from getting knocked out of your lungs.

“NO!” That’s…that’s Walsh, isn’t it? You’re not quite sure. Your vision is going through the motions of focusing and blurring at random intervals. All you’re aware of are a myriad of colors with voices attached to them going up against a giant, red blob in the distance. “YOU SON OF A BITCH-”

…heh…how...unchristian-like of him…

“Master!” High Pixie’s hands are upon your chest, healing the worst bit of your injuries even before you have a moment to blink. There’s a nasty noise from your chest as your sternum and ribs knit back together, and you can’t completely suppress the grunt of pain that escapes your mouth. “Hold on, I’m almost done…”

Groggily, you push yourself up out of the snow. “What…” You have to take a moment to spit out a bit of blood clogging up your throat. “What…happened.”

Pyro Jack appears next to you, his face set in an expression of grim concern. “Nothing good, Master. Nothing good at all…”

A gloved hand points to the direction where the group was gathered prior to the attack. Your eyes focus, narrowing as your vision clears to give you an unblemished image of the ensuing battle.

(cont.)

>>1028250
>Beast Eye
>Megido
>Beast Eye
>Getsu-ei
>Beast Eye
>Beast Eye

File: 98135891.jpg (965 KB, 840x1120)

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The demon known as Krampus resembles Santa in color palatte and bulk only. Staying true to the folklore, it has the goat’s horns protruding from the top of its head, poking through the hood of its faded suit, stained with dirt and blood. Underneath its hood, you can make out a withered face, complete with a white beard in grotesque parody of Father Christmas. Even with a hunched back, it still proves to be a fierce enemy, casually tanking and even avoiding the worst of what Brady and Walsh are throwing at it.

You frown. “Where’s the others?” Silence meets your question, and you turn your full attention towards the others. “What happened?!”

Pyro Jack swallows audibly before hesitantly pointing over the snow. “…Krampus…he did something to them…even I have not seen the likes of it before-”

Fitz.

You shove the demon out of the way, stumbling into an all-out run. The snow itself conspires against you, hindering your effort to go back up the hill. More than once do are you forced to stop, cursing to pull your leg out from an unexpectedly deep embankment. Yet you persevere, eventually reaching the top of the hill.

And you stop dead in your tracks.

From the way she’s reaching out to you, it looks like she’d been trapped in the attempt to save you. Victoria and MacKay share similar expressions and poses, as if trying to break free from some unseen shackles. Conningway stands out, the pistols in her side aimed directly at Krampus.
But it is a futile endeavor. Deep within the ice your friends are trapped within, even the bullets are unable to move.

It’s gargantuan, easily the size of a large vehicle, resembling the crystalline structures you once saw at Luray Caverns. But it isn’t natural rock or stone. Even without your COMP screaming at you that it’s magical in origin, and giving off the same reading as the nutcracker cores, you can tell that no human or manmade machine would be able of crafting structures of this…complexity.

For a terrible moment, you thought that they were dead. But no, they’re still alive. Somehow. On your screen, you can track their vital signs, see the rise and fall of their heartbeats. However, they’re dangerously low, having more in common with patients in comas or induced sleep than the active people they were prior to…this.

“HONESTLY, I’M IMPRESSED.” Without any warning, the fetid scent of decomposing meat and unwashed body overwhelms your senses. Krampus places a bony hand on your shoulder, like a museum curator gesturing at a fine work in his gallery. “IT’S NOT EVERYDAY THAT I RUN INTO A MORTAL QUICK ENOUGH TO EVADE MY TRAP. STILL, I AM CONTENT. THE QUALITY OF SOULS THAT I HAVE TRAPPED WITHIN MY CRYSTALS ARE OF EXCEPTIONALLY HIGH QUALITY…”

>“What have you done to them!?”
>“Release them, now!”
>“I’m gonna kill you for this, you bastard!”
>Custom option.

>>1028296
"Rangda Debilitate, Pixie Luster Candy, Jack Agilao."
Pull out a zandyne stone then hammer him with it.
Don't give him a chance to think or breath. If he wants to gloat we can shove his tongue back down his throat.

>>1028296
>Vid related
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxw-6Xt-AQg

And
>>1028302
This

>>1028302
I'll back this.

>>1028296
seconding >>1028302
goodbye jack, you aren't going to survive this, but you'll go out with a hell of a bang.

>>1028296
>>1028302
I just follow this for the story I don't know what any of this means but I'm backing this guy.

>>1028316
Debilitate is a debuff that knocks down all of an enemy's stats.

Luster Candy is a buff that increases all of our stats.

Agilao is Fire 2

Zandyne is Wind 3

File: Walsh.jpg (232 KB, 528x781)

232 KB JPG

>>1028307
>>1028310
>>1028313
>>1028316
Tempting as it is to respond with a charged comment loaded with vitriol and anger, you’re going to take the opening he’s giving you. “Debilitate, Luster Candy, Agialo, now!”

You tear your shoulder away from the bony talon, leaping out of the way just as the attacks hit the master of the domain. Krampus snarls as Pyro Jack’s flames lick at his robes, staggering as Rangda’s Debilitate envelops its body. You don’t give him time to counter, crushing the Zandyne stone in your pocket as you point towards the demon.

“You bastard!” As Krampus staggers under the blades of wind that lick at him, Frosty comes falling from the sky. His sword is a blazing light, shrieking with energy as he drives it into the demon’s back. “I’ll kill you for this!”

To your shock, all he does is laugh, even with two feet of blazing steel directly in his back. It isn’t a pretty noise, resembling more like the bray of a demonic goat than actual laughter. “SO YOU SURVIVED AFTER ALL. I WAS ALWAYS WONDERING WHERE YOU GOT UP TO AFTER I KILLED YOUR MASTER…”

The snow fairy roars, eyes hardening as it twists the blade. Black flecks of blood go flying as he wrenches the steaming weapon out of the demon’s back, before moving to try and run it through again. But he’s too slow.

"IF YOU'RE SO WORRIED ABOUT HIM..." A wizened talon rears up, snatching the demon with a speed that did not match its withered appearance. Krampus grunts in exertion before throwing Frosty into the closest wall, who disappears through the stone with a terrible crash. "THEN GO AND JOIN HIM IN THE REALM OF OBLIVION!"

“What have you done to them?!” There’s a shout, followed by the sight of a candy cane shattering against the demon’s body. With Hairy Jack and Mokoi ready at his side, Brady aims the Caner directly at Krampus. His voice is raw, and to your shock, you can see tears going down his face as he gestures wildly with the gun.

“Gun attacks don’t work!” You shout back, fumbling for another elemental stone. “Brady, switch to a different-”

He ignores you. Krampus is the only one in his eyes. “I said…what’ve you done to them, you bastard?! Turn them back, release them, now!”

The demon’s eyes narrow. “I CAN’T DO THAT, LAWRENCE…ONCE THE PROCESS BEGINS, YOU’LL HAVE TO DESTROY ME TO RELEASE THEM…NOT THAT YOU’RE CAPABLE OF DOING SO.”

“Process?” Walsh stumbles into sight, clutching his arm at an odd angle. Broken at least, maybe even dislocated from the way his right shoulder is slumped. “And calm down. That’s my partner in there too, but you need to get hold of yourself. The demon wants you to lose your head, become reckless. That’s why its taunting you.”

(cont.)

File: krampusd2.jpg (253 KB, 1500x1544)

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“TAUNTING?” Krampus repeats. “I AM MERELY STATING THE TRUTH. EVEN NOW, THE POWER OF THE YULETIDE MANTLE FLOWS THROUGH MY BODY. HEALING MY WOUNDS, STRENGTHENING MY ATTACKS…I MERELY NEED TO HIDE. I AM HUMORING YOU JUST BY COMING DOWN TO DO BATTLE.”

Shit, that isn’t good. That is definitely not good.

“Process?” You ask, even as you reach for another stone. Play it cool and stall for time. He seems to enjoy gloating. ‘Pride cometh before the fall’ definitely applies to demons, right? “The hell do you mean by that?”

“AH…I WAS ALMOST DISAPPOINTING THAT NO ONE WOULD ASK…”

A malevolent glint fills the demon’s eyes. “POWERFUL AS I AM, I CANNOT CREATE SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING. THAT IS A GIFT THAT BELONGS ONLY TO THE HIGHEST OF GODS AND THE MOST POWERFUL OF DEMONS.”

Its gaze drifts dispassionately towards the mask of a nutcracker soldier. “JUST LIKE MY BETTER HALF, I HAVE TALENT IN CREATING TOYS OF MY OWN. I HAVE NO ELVES OR FAIRIES TO COME AND ANSWER TO ME…SO I NEEDED SOMETHING ELSE. SOMETHING…THAT WOULD OBEY WITHOUT HESITATION, SOMETHING STRONGER THAN MUNDANE HUMANS OR DEMONS.”

“SO AFTER I WAS DESTROYED, I SPENT MY YEARS IN SECLUSION, KIDNAPPING THOSE THAT WOULD NOT BE MISSED. THE DESTITUTE, THE HOMELESS, THE UNDESIREABLES OF HUMANITY. OF THAT, I HAD NO SHORTAGE. TO SHACKLE THE SOUL OF A HUMAN TO THAT OF MY TOYS…THE TRIALS AND EXPERIMENTS WERE ARDUOUS AND LONG…BUT IN THE END, I SUCCEEDED!”

It holds out its hand, and crystal blossoms in its palm, the same icy blue of the nutcracker cores. “BLENDING BOTH MAGIC AND SCIENCE, I HAVE DEVISED A CONTAINER FOR HUMAN SOULS. ASIDE FROM BEING EXTREMELY VOLATILE AND EXCELLENT AS LAST RESORTS, THEY GRANT A SEMBLANCE OF LIFE TO THE THINGS I PUT THEM INTO…NAMELY NUTCRACKERS AND TOYS.”

…the horrified look on Walsh’s face matches your own, and both of your eyes flicker to the twisted remnants of the nutcrackers. Broken limbs, scattered body parts, half-melted faces…these…these things were once human beings?

The warden...and how it struggled, how it had emotions...

And you killed them by the dozens without even thinking.

Krampus smiles. “IT IS IRONIC. YOU CHASE ME EVERY YEAR, TRYING TO STOP ME, YET NOW, YOU’VE KILLED MORE THAN I HAVE THAN IN THE LAST TEN YEARS OF MY OWN TERROR. NOW WHO IS THE DEMON AGAIN? WHO IS THE REAL VILLAIN HERE?”

It pauses, before turning around to gaze at the crystal your friends are trapped in. “BUT I MUST THANK YOU. IT TOOK A HUNDRED MUNDANE SOULS JUST TO CREATE THE WARDEN YOU DESTROYED, TO IMBUE IT WITH ENOUGH SENTIENCE TO EXECUTE AND FORM ORDERS INDEPENDENT FROM MY OWN. AND THE GUARDS ARE LITTLE MORE THAN SIMPLE-MINDED DRONES, REQUIRING AT LEAST A DOZEN JUST FOR THEM TO ATTACK AND DEFEND. THE SOULS OF YOUR FRIENDS ARE BRIGHTER, MORE POWERFUL…I EXPECT GREAT THINGS FROM THEM IN THE MONTHS TO COME AS REPLACEMENTS-”

(cont.)

File: Dramatic Walsh.jpg (82 KB, 850x601)

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He’s unable to finish his sentence. Brady roars, throwing away the Caner and charging in a dead sprint towards the demon before Walsh can even try to stop him. “YOU BASTARD--!”

The demon seems to shrug, almost nonchalantly as the hacker closes the distance, elemental stone in hand. With a casual swipe of its talons, it slices right through Brady’s armor like a hot knife through butter. The snow underneath his falling body hisses as blood gushes onto the ground from the terrible wound.

“Brady!” That galvanizes you into action, plans be damned! That, stupid…lovestruck…idiot! What the hell was he thinking?!

“IT WOULD NOT DO FOR ME TO NOT HAVE A COMPLETE SET…” The demon muses, placing its hand on your friend before you can stop it. The sound of shattering glass once more fills the air as the crystals begin to appear out of the ground. It almost looks like a gentle embrace as the structure envelops him gently, even as he gasps and struggles with the wound on his chest. “TAKE COMFORT THAT YOU WILL JOIN THEM SOON…”

Before you even make it halfway, the process is complete. Brady is completely trapped within the crystals, his face one of pain and his body contorted into an expression of agony. Removing its hand, Krampus turns towards you, briefly shifting his eyes towards Walsh before it grins. “AND THEN THERE WERE TWO…”

Walsh remains silent, before closing his eyes. He seems to have made a decision of some sort. “...promise me something…sir?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You mutter. “It better not be something straight out of the movies. Because now of all times is not the moment for one-liners. Or sob stories.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just that…you’ve got Mnemosyne on you, right? The memory goddess?”
The flash-cloned copy for mind-wiping. What use would she be in actual combat? “Correct.”

“…I’ve got a plan.”

A plan? Well, he’s got one more than you do. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“…before I tell you it…I’m going to need you to promise me one thing.”

“…and that is?”

“…you use it on yourself, sir. Erase the memory of this fight after we kick the tar out of Krampus.”

The fuck? Your eyes narrow. That sounds really, really suspicious as hell right about now. “And why’s that?”

He hesitates before his resolve turns to steel. His blue eyes meet yours, and you can see that he isn’t about to back down. That’s a look that’s familiar enough to you. God knows how many times you’ve seen it on Fitz. “I can promise you that it isn’t sinister, or will ruin you career. But…can you promise me that, sir? It’s either yes…or no…please...can you trust me?”

The kid’s voice is actually begging by the end of his spiel.

You sigh, rubbing the back of your head. "First off, don't call me 'sir'. I'm only a few years older than you are. And second..."

>Make the promise.
>Don’t make the promise.

>>1028494
>>Make the promise.

>>1028494
>Don’t make the promise.
Trust goes both ways.

>>1028494
>Don’t make the promise.

File: Walsh Smirk.png (309 KB, 550x743)

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>>1028496
>>1028498
>>1028509
“…trust is a two-way street. And you seem like an honest enough dude, but asking me something of that magnitude…not possible. Unless you tell me what you’re about to do first. A catch-22, I know, but it’s just the way things work.”

Disappointment flickers across his face before resignation sets in. Sighing, his shoulders visibly slump before he pinches the bridge of h is nose. “Right…should’ve expected that to happen…alright, that’s fair enough…but maybe after we kick the tar out of Krampus, you’ll see why you’ve got to erase your memories.”

He’s pretty insistent on it, even though he’s being polite about your refusal. You can’t just go, willy-nilly and accept the request to mindwipe yourself without GOOD reason. A very, very good reason.

“…let’s take care of ugly over there first,” You mutter, jerking your head towards Krampus. As you speak the demon inspects its wounds, nodding in satisfaction as burnt flesh sloughs off, replaced by pink and unblemished skin. “Then we’ll see if I need mindwiping.”

“…got it, sir.”

In spite of the dire odds against you, you can’t help but snort. “I told you, dude. Don’t call me ’sir’.”

His face actually reddens. “Ah, sorry about that. So…what should I call you?”

“Brown works. Maybe ‘Adrian’ if there’s two ‘Browns’ in a single party,” You add. “And if we’re being honest? I don’t care as long as I can easily recognize it in a crowd.”

A smile breaks across his face. “Then don’t call me ‘dude’. And in exchange…Walsh should do.”

“Alright then, Walsh.” You can’t help but match his smile with a grin of your own. “Let’s kick this guy’s ass and save Christmas!”

“You got it…Dad.”

The smile on your face freezes. Hold up a moment…what…what…what…

What did he just call you?!

“Dagda!” Walsh continues, completely oblivious to the look on your face. Raising his hands to the sky, he shouts at someone. “I accept your offer!”

The scent of ice and blood instantly vanishes, replaced by the strong smell of raw nature and untainted earth. You can smell flowers that could only bloom in the most temperate of climates, hear the chirping of birds that couldn’t exist here in the cold. In an instant, Krampus goes from smug, to apprehensive, glancing at the sudden shift in the winds with extreme worry.

Suddenly, a burst of light emits from Walsh’s COMP, manifesting into a tall demon that you don’t recognize from the databases. Tall…green…a skeletal face and a mane of orange hair. But above all…power…power that makes your strength seem no more than a drop in the ocean. This is no mere demon.

This…this is a god.

“About time you listened,” The entity mutters, and you can swear that the grin on his face is absolutely leering. “Now, let's see if you can live up to the Turner line of Godslayers!"

==

Fin.

>>1028550
so is Walsh's hair variable as per Fire Emblem rules? Do we now have to decide who Adrian gets it on with to get the optimum hair color?

>>1028550
>Dad
WE DID IT BOYS.

>>1028552
>Implying that Adrian is the parent that Walsh is tied to.

>>1028550
Raidou is going to be pissed. People fucking around with his Akarana Corridor.

>>1028550
I really should have question why he called us Sir...

>>1028558
Nah, the current Raidou doesn't care. What he doesn't know won't hurt him...

Anywho, writing...and Q&A if anyone has them.

>>1028556
Why the fuck is Fitz's kid working for the vatican? Where did they go wrong in teaching him?

>>1028567
Nigga is a time traveler with a sick sister. He probably doesn't have that many options.

>>1028566
Well yeah he doesn't care if he doesn't know. Butterfly effects are serious business.

>>1028570
You sure it's his sister?

>>1028566
Well you mentioned Turner, but I would be greatly amused if the one you meant was not who was expected.

Someone empowered by Dagda AND Alice would be pretty scary.

>>1028572
No I'm not. Dunno why I assumed that.

>>1028573
As I said before, I have plans for Alice. Plans that tie in to the fate of Annette's descendants after her...resurrection.

>>1028570
>>1028572
Will confirm that it's a sister.

>>1028575
Wait so Fitz is related to the Cowgirl backstory or was that still Adrian?

>>1028575
Heeey I was right.

>>1028577
Fitz I think since Walsh is tied to her. And Adrian certainly doesn't have Dagda riding around in his head. Just 3 pagan bitches.

>>1028577
...eh, may as well dispel the mystery and save some confusion.. Yes, Annette Turner is the direct ancestor of Adrian Brown.

>>1028578
The Dagda in Walsh's head is Future!Dagda. The current Dagda of the present is...elsewhere. But anything further is spoiler territory for future arcs.

>>1028580
Alright cool that's what I got when I read it however long ago that was.

>>1028580
Oh yeah. Congrats on a year QMing.

>>1028582
Right. Maybe I won't do a full session for Annette, but I could open up a session every now and again to show what's going on with her.

>>1028584
Thanks! It's really been a whole year, huh? Man, the time flies...

>>1028587
Far as I got she had her heart ripped out by alice...

If you did another write up with her I missed it entirely. I remember that ending on a horribly sad note.

>>1028590
...and resurrected by Dagda.

>>1028591
I missed that part. I think I got bummed out at the deathish scene and tuned out for the night. I'll have to go back and re-read.

Sort of like reading the red wedding. You just need to take a break.

File: Title Image.png (452 KB, 958x512)

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjlBCAx6330&feature=youtu.be

Coming this year to a thread near you…

THEY WILL BE TESTED

“You treat them no better than tools…or pets…they’re more than that. They’re more than that to me! They’re my friends! They’re my partners!”

…

“Go ahead, princess…fight me…struggle against me…make this something I have to work for! Give me something that I actually have to use force for!”

SECRETS WILL BE REVEALED

“This vessel was prepared accordingly…I will have no trouble adjusting to this new form. To that, friends, I thank you for all the hard work you have given for me.”

…

“Your bloodline is tied to my fate. If anything, you should thank me. If it were not for my intervention, you would not even be alive to this day!”

THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST COME TO LIGHT

“…I have witnessed their capacity for both cruelty and kindness…and have found that the human race is one worth fighting for.”

…

“…I was there when He created you…from little more than mud and dirt…a flawed creation. And He would have us, the superior creation, kneel before you…”

THEY WILL BE PUSHED TO THEIR LIMITS

“…what you fear most…what fills your nightmares more than anything else…is the possibility that you have lived your life incorrectly…”

…

“To a certain extent, all of us are broken men and women. No one becomes an Agent and fails to bring some personal vendetta with them into the service…”

THERE ARE THOSE WHO WILL BREAK

“It’s not a sin to be born! It’s not a sin to exist! It isn’t, it isn’t, it isn’t, it isn’t!!”

…

“…I’m sorry…but it turns out that I’m much better at killing people than I am at saving them! I…tried…I really did…to be like you…but the world just wouldn’t let me…”

…

“…the one you love will leave you to die…”

IN THIS EPIC SAGA OF GODS, DEMONS AND THOSE CAUGHT IN BETWEEN…

“…you did the best that you could, given the circumstances. I could ask for no better individual to call my friend.”

…

“…promise me that when this is all over…that I’ll see you on the other side, okay…? Please…promise me…”

THE FATE OF THE UNIVERSE LIES IN YOUR HANDS

"...Law...Chaos...they are but mere opposites that bring about no change, advocate stagnation. I, the god Krishna, offer a middle path..."

...

"...mankind must be free to choose their own destiny!"

“This world will be better if it were to cease…to return it to the emptiness that is the White of oblivion…”

AND THE CHOICES YOU MAKE BRING BOTH RUIN AND SALVATION

“PRAISE MY NAME! CREATIONS, BATHED IN THE GLORY OF MY COUNTENANCE! PRAISE MY NAME!

…

“…it’s not the end of the world, Adrian…but you can see it from here…”

…

“…please…won’t you revive me?”

SHIN MEGAMI TENSEI
DEVIL SUMMONER:
TASK FORCE 666

>>1028604
You'd better not fuck with Fitz Kaz.

>>1028606
>Checks notes
Um...about that...

>>1028609
a lot of fucking happens, huh?

>>1028604
>a thread near you
>near
>in any sense of time or space
haha nice joke.

>>1028609
Right. Well as long as she doesn't go full retard we're alright.

>>1028612
>ThatsTheJoke.jpeg
And my Film Major is leaking into my creative writing...ugh.

>>1028617
Again, all depends on your character interactions. As I've said before, if you play your cards right, you won't have to add "ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD" to your life as a MegaTen protag.

>>1028604
>"...mankind must be free to choose their own destiny!"
What are you doing here Amelia?

>Coming this year to a thread near you…
Prooobably only going to get to about a third of these within the year I imagine.

>>1028619
I haven't played your mega ten games. But if Fitz suddenly decides she's gotta strangle Adrian for Jesus we're gonna have a problem.

>>1028619
>you won't have to add "ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD" to your life as a MegaTen protag.

>you won't have to add "ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD"

So were either not the MC or not in MegaTen then

>>1028625
Devil Summoner is more light-hearted than mainline.[/pedantic]

>>1028621
I want to get through at least half. That's the goal.

>>1028623
>Fitz
>For Jesus

MySides.gif

>>1028632
If she tries to strangle us for Satan/Lucifer/Random god name here we'll have issues too.

>>1028632
>Devil Summoner is more light-hearted than mainline.
Yeah, only two of your friends die instead of all of them and you can usually save them in the NG+.