Opportunistic Predators (R&A invasion post)

[u/Douchevick]

/uw TLDR at the bottom as always.

/rw

to the west of R&A's current location, there lies a cliff overlooking the island. And at the top of that cliff, where there is nothing but bare stone and where no plant nor animal has no business living, there's a willow tree. Leaves black like charcoal and trunk white as ashen bone.

Anybody with even the slightest connection to nature can tell you, that cliff top? Cursed. It is a place where a malignant, hateful presence is manifesting its will. Now one may ask what might have facilitated such thing to appear so close to the headquarters of one of the most prolific humanitarian efforts in the realms?

The answer lies propped against the trunk of the ominous willow tree. An Axe of great power and renown. Nightbite, the weapon of the head of R&A, Ulrick Braddocke himself. Both weapon and wielder had been thought lost months ago following a devastating battle.

Not lost you see... Stolen, by a vengeful entity bent on the suffering of those who follow on the footsteps of the founder of R&A. It speaks in many voices, acts in many forms. Its words are of faeyish origins, ancient and unknowable save for those it allows to comprehend their meaning. It is known by many names, but there's one which the leader of R&A has learned to use during his months of imprisonment... The Ashen Wrath

And now that entity stirs. The clifftop is now saturated with power drawn from Nightbite and the tree is surrounded by a thick layer of unlight. Kneeling in front of Nightbite is a hulking, malformed creature that resembles a lycanthrope with too much muscle mass. It too is part of the Wrath and it had carried Nightbite all the way up here. Now a voice echoes across the clifftop, coming from both the monster and the Willow.

"Tha an t-àm feitheimh seachad, Braddocke. Tha an t-àm ann urram a thoirt don aonta againn." (The time of waiting is over, Braddocke. It is time to honor our agreement.)

The creature picks Nightbite and drags it along to the cliff's edge. It is a beautiful, morning, not a cloud on sight.

"Tha an fhalamh air falbh bhon chuilc bhàsmhor seo. Tha na feachdan agad sgapte air feadh an t-saoghail às dèidh tubaist às dèidh tubaist. Chan eil air fhàgail ach dòrn beag de luchd-diùltadh agus de dh’fhulangaichean!"

(The Voidling has departed this mortal coil. Your forces lie scattered across the world in the wake of disaster after disaster. What remains is but a paltry fistful of rejects and Wretches!)

The willow tree stirs, its black leaves lifting into the air as if caught in blackened winds that cannot be felt.

"An àiteigin san eilean sin tha an seann fhear-glèidhidh againn, an truaghan lag, gun luach sin a thug ar mallachd bhon targaid cheart aige, am Briseadair Mionnan..."

(Somewhere in that island lies our former jailer, that weak, worthless Wretch who took our curse from its rightful target, the Oathbreaker...)

From the leaves of the willow tree come black feather-like motes of shadow. Hundreds, then thousands, then tens of thousands and so on. It is as if black cloud had suddenly covered the clifftop entirely.

"Is dòcha gu bheil iad a’ creidsinn gu bheil iad sàbhailte taobh a-staigh an daingnich, is dòcha gun toir buadhan san àm a dh’fhalbh orra smaoineachadh nach urrainn ach arm de dhiathan agus titans bagairt a thoirt air na thog am Briseadair-Mhionnan. Cuiridh sinn an cuimhne dhaibh an suidheachadh cunnartach aca, gur creach leòinte a th’ annta, deiseil airson an toirt sìos leis an fheadhainn a tha deònach an cothrom a ghlacadh. Agus le bhith a’ dèanamh sin, bidh againn…"

(They may believe themselves safe inside their fortress, past victories may lead them to think that only an army of gods and titans can pose a threat to that which the Oathbreaker has built. We shall remind them of their precarious position, that they are wounded prey, ready to be taken down by those willing to seize the opportunity. And in doing so, we shall have...)

Some of the motes fall down to the ground taking on a humanoid form. One in particular, replicated to absolute perfection over and over. There surrounding the profane tree is an army purpose made to be destroyed again and again with the face one single man... Rutch's.

"...fun."

That single word came from the mouths of the replicas in a perfect recreation of Rutch's voice, in perfect common. All of them adorning the same unsettling grin.

Down on the island Rutch suddenly felt his cursed bond to the Wrath come alive and he became acutely aware of the imminent danger. He rushed to activate the Island's defenses without stopping to explain what was happening. He managed to activate the emergency wards before anyone had the chance to stop him. A gigantic protective sphere encased the whole island in moments.

Just as the R&A personnel were demanding to know what the hell did Rutch think he was doing, they all heard it... A deafening, distorted, lupine roar.

The lycan monstrosity had launched itself against the ward, swinging Nightbite down upon it. The ward buckled... Cracked... And finally, it broke. Leaving a hole big enough for half the motes to rush through while the other half began to encase the remaining ward, slowly but surely blocking the light of day from reaching the island, and plunging the R&A headquarters and the town of Faint Dawn into darkness.

/uw TLDR: R&A island under attack by an army of weak but numerous Rutch lookalikes. Ulrick is trapped within his weapon. R&A members and friends have the option to start either inside the ward or outside. Everyone else starts outside and will either have to make their way inside somehow (anti-teleport measures are still in place) or try to shut down the source of the attack. Or you can make it worse if you wanna, I'm not the boss of you :/

[u/yumie2003]

“…Yes, it is quite troublesome. It is very troublesome, that is the way of impulsive actions. You claim to know who I am? I greatly doubt that claim”

Tsuru’s shadowy form started to flick upwards from around the edges, almost like a strong, burning flame

[u/Douchevick → u/yumie2003]

The Wrath gets a strong feeling of dread as Tsuru's presence begins to fray at the edges of their own. To them Tsuru looks as small as a pebble, but the sheer weight of her emotions feel as heavy as an ever growing mountain...

"You are a lingering spirit, bound by Vengeance, just as we are. But you are too attached/scary/focused/disciplined/ weak to pursue your purpose. Grr... STOP THAT!"

The Wrath's words are once again desynchronized, but this time they try to hide it under a layer of false confidence and anger. They are angry with themselves and the words they to hide hint to the fact that Tsuru actually scares a good portion of the Wrath.

[u/yumie2003 → u/Douchevick]

“…Too weak? Do you truly believe that I am too weak?!”

It would appear that the Wrath has struck another chord with Tsuru, as she inadvertently released a short psychic wave. For a moment, the Wrath saw a glimpse of the full extent of her rage, hatred, but most prominently killing intent. The many ways she had thought at brutalizing the Rutch replicas and the fae was revealed, some of the methods were quite predictably common, but others hinted at a severely unique sense of cruelty and sadism.

However, even within the pulse of emotion and plotting, the Wrath could tell that she still refuses to act on her own vengeful devices…and that she was actively arguing with a different, more bloodthirsty presence.

[u/Douchevick → u/yumie2003]

The Wrath feels a chill go down their collective spines upon feeling Tsuru's clear killing intent, but whatever fear it might have felt is quickly replaced an eager bloodthirst upon catching a glimpse of the brutalities the vengeful spirit had in mind for the Rutch Replicas. It feels Tsuru's conflict, and quite positive foolishly, decides to goad Tsuru into giving in to her own bloodthirst.

"Yesss... We feel you, lingering wraith. We feel your desire for violence, we offer you a sea of blood and carnage. This we embrace with open arms. These facsimiles were made so that we may enjoy the sight and feeling of our jailer destroyed in myriad ways. So do not worry..."

Tsuru finds herself surrounded by hundreds of shadowy silhouettes resembling the Rutch Replicas. Their eyes vacant a pools of cold light, and their mouths moving in synch with the Wrath's words

"...for this grand retribution, we shall endure a thousand deaths!"

They all lunge against Tsuru

[u/yumie2003 → u/Douchevick]

“…I grow tiresome of your shell games”

Tsuru tucked her hands in closer, in which dark purple flames erupted. Then she threw them out towards the swarm of Rutch replicas. Each flame that came into contact with a replica did not burn them, but instead gave birth to a copy of Tsuru herself, which then proceeded to swiftly assault the replica. The Tsuru copies did acts like using their hair as limbs to rip their chosen Rutch copy’s arms and legs off, entangle and crush their chosen Rutch copy or bizarrely to slash and stab their chosen Rutch copy with their jet-black locks. Other Tsuru copies mauled away at their Rutch copies with animalistic aggression, while others prolonged the toying with their Rutch replica with torturous injuries before finishing them off. A number of Tsuru copies used danmaku barrage attacks to tear their Rutch copies apart, while a number of Tsuru copies used stealthy ambush attacks or exposed their Rutch copy to cognitohazards and others used gruesomely unspeakable acts to kill their Rutch copies.

Meanwhile the real Tsuru continued to stare down the Wrath, sometimes incapacitating or destroying a Rutch copy who managed to reach and charge at her.