December Event Log #1: Someone App Tails So He Can Get Trolled

[magicademymods]

December Event Log Now I Face Out The thunderous boom that shakes the academy on December 24th isn't all that unusual, considering Diatu's penchant for magical mishaps. But the way the air shifts and warps in an imperceptible way afterwards definitely is. The sky-spanning purple nebula that traps the magicademy in its expanse is a little suspect too. And then there's the yellow-eyed duplicates of yourself that rip themselves away from you in a burst of violet, starry smoke. "I am the Shadow, the true self!" the duplicate proclaims in a distorted voice, pointing dramatically at the original. What happens next depends on what the wizard the shadow spawned from is repressing, though. If you have an urge to cut loose and wreck shit, the shadow will be immediately destructive, tearing apart the academy around it. If you refuse to acknowledge a deep trauma in your past, the shadow may perch on a tower and radiate waves of sadness and apathy to get everyone else to feel their pain too. And so on and so forth. Whatever aspects of themself the character refuses to acknowledge, that they feel shame over, the shadow will embody to its most destructive extent possible. Oh, and the guiltier a character feels about whatever they're repressing, the more powerful their shadow is. I Hold Out The only way to stop your shadow is to accept them as a part of yourself. But seeing an embodiment of everything that you hate about yourself and having to reconcile with it is difficult. And at the slightest sign of rejection, the shadow will change into a monstrous form representative of the repressed feelings they were born from and begin lashing out. Violently. While going on an overblown motive rant. Oh, boy. But hey. Getting to literally fight back against all of the worst parts of yourself is generally cathartic enough to begin the healing process? Right? No? Well, too bad, because this thing isn't going away and somebody needs to take care of it before the situation gets worse. Thankfully, your friends are there to help you through it! Hopefully. I Reach Out to the Truth Of course there's the matter of what caused this phenomenon in the first place, and the calamitous nebula that's keeping Diatu sealed off from the outside world. Close friends of Tyzias may also notice that she's completely vanished as well. Once characters reconcile with their shadows, they can see and interact with a spiral staircase leading up to the heavens. However, considering that the staircase is crawling with hostile, mindless generic shadows and that the presence of whatever's at the top can be felt, they may want to bring a few friends before investigating. We Really Wanted To Include A Gif And Apologize For Ruining This Post. No, This Isn't a Prompt

Comments

[temptationaccomplished]

Oh, of all the ridiculous--! Begrudgingly he does appreciate the level of showmanship. Tyzias doesn't do things halfway. It's--

Breathtaking. She's changing. Or maybe she's showing herself for what she really is for the first time: something dangerous and perhaps a little frightening, but not, either,...because she's their friend.

I can't turn back the clock. I've changed too much for that. And I can't pretend that this place won't change me more.

Her words ring so true to him. He has no idea what she has become or who she has been all this time, underneath her facade of chaotic bookish brilliance. She's something else, something otherworldly and Aziraphale feels like he's known--maybe always has known that she is something beyond comprehension, even if he still can't say what. Maybe that had been part of their draw to each other in the first place--two otherworldly beings trying to suppress and hide what they are.

Is she a demi-god? An eldritch beast? Her own world's equivalent of an angel or a demon--or both? Both, perhaps. That she's there holding the legendary sword of Arthur in one hand and a draconic, monstrous sword in the other seems to imply she's something of a balance. Or not a balance, because balance suggests a canceling out (and the angel knows a great deal about that), but a decision. She is both sides of a coin and she's the Decision. She is Change. She is a tipping of scales.

Which means they, too, have a decision to make.

He's so very proud of them (he almost thought I'm so very proud of the humans but they aren't human, now are they? They're an odd assortment of people and maybe that makes the willingness to work together all the grander. In any case, the angel is so very proud of the lot of them and he probably has no reason to be, but he's still...very pleased).

In particular, he looks over at Kaiba extending hand and gives a warm smile. You're trying so hard, young man. They all are. They've tried to be such islands. Tyzias, of all people, has brought them together.

And when he looks up at Crowley, his own face is still a bit pink from the rush of the kiss to his hand--a public acknowledgment of something left unspoken and mostly unchanged for centuries. "I feel like change hasn't come naturally to me," he says as the start of a long-overdue apology. "And I've been a bit deceptive to the lot of them, as well, so I think I don't--"

Whatever he thinks he doesn't want to do anymore is interrupted as an insistent flipper swats his hand-- "Yes, yes, alright." -- until he foregoes his sword, takes the penguin's flipper and lets it urge his free hand into Pallidus'.

I'll accept change. That's what he'll do. And I'll help protect them, aide them with the tools they need or the support or whatever he can offer: so perhaps he doesn't even need his weapon... because some things need not change. I'm an angel. I'm a Principality who gave away his flaming sword. That's always been part of who I am.

With a deep breath and a great unfurling of white wings like a shielding canopy stretching overhead, he draws on the reserves of kindness and love, the power of the Almighty's Grace within him, to offer little minor miracles: protection and healing as he can.

[sauntereddown]

Crowley should probably be terrified at what he's watching. If Tyzias isn't something powerful and ancient, she clearly made friends (or enemies) with something that was some time ago, and it changed her. Her song, and the next phase of the battle it ushers in, is pure theater and yet very real. It's completely unique. It's...

It's stylish, is what it is.

Off Aziraphale's halted apology, he gives his angel a fond, exasperated look. "Did you do something wrong? Already forgotten. But we should probably slay this dragon-thing before we all pretend to be angry. I think it's vulnerable to sap."

Crowley should be terrified, but he isn't. He understands the urge to take things apart, or at least poke them until they take themselves apart with ease. He understands, maybe today more than ever, turning that urge into something else. Something more powerful than anger or fear. Something that makes decisions, something that evolves.

"You think she's strongest against you trapped in a cage?" he taunts the shadow. "Nah, don't think so. That's where you call the shots. Out here, she's got us. She's free, and she's not alone. And I think we all agree it's time for you to leave."

He squeezes Aziraphale's hand, and his other hand reaches out for his closest schoolmate, keeping the chain unbroken. And he wills hard in Tyzias's direction:

You know this thing. You know what you're capable of. You know what to do, and you're mad and clever enough to do it, so take what you need from all of us. We're with you.

[mithrarin]

"Tyzias, you're stealing my moves."

A little smile, a little banter, the sort they'd shared before in the mysterious building and in general. If she thought any of this would somehow sour Dust -- sour anyone on her, she was wrong. The demon-shadow-thing he didn't much approve of, but everything she'd shown today just felt... right, like pieces of a puzzle slotted into place.

Both hilts slapped into his palm as he seized them, Furae held behind him in readiness while Ahrah pointed straight towards Tyzias. "Forget what you're supposed to be. You are who you are. Revel in it. I'll kill this thing myself if I need to. You can do it alone if you had to. But here we all are. So let's end this. Together."

[darkenedmoon]

Yotsuyu has seen many a thing similar to this; heard minstrels' tales of the Warrior of Light and their derring-do in the face of eikons.

She never thought she would be but a footnote--and perhaps in Hydaelyn's history, she is. But now, she is here. And she is not just Yotsuyu, but she has the power of a goddess in her hands. The power to be more than a footnote. To be...a hero?

Hands. She reaches out, takes Crowley's hand in her unburdened one, even as she closes the fan in her other hand with a snap, tucking it in her obi. Either another will take that hand, or she will be directing energy to those who needed it with said hand.

I fought for the same as you; I am the shadow to your light, the eclipse to your sun. I fought to be my own person, not manipulated by others, mistress of my own fate. I fought and died for it, and I claim the power I had there, here. Is it not my right? But it is a right I give to you, to strengthen you in time of need. Be who you were meant to be.

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[tiredcharmer]

As these Heroes joined together in this one moment of desperate unity send their hopes towards Tyzias, they can feel something deep and crimson and powerful and fundamental and old pulsing through their souls. While the power of the Melody is an uplifting chorus, this is a simple percussive beat that nevertheless reverberates with unquestionable force throughout their bodies.

Tyzias skids back, a ball of swirling shadow caught between her blades. She takes a deep breath. In, out. Gold begins flowing through the Shadow's magic, swirling and changing it to the energy of creation, and with a single flick of her wrist Tyzias launches a beam of bright yellow energy at the monster. It howls, flying back with its titanic wings, and gathers two massive orbs of writhing magic in each of its hands before launching them at Tyzias one after another. She stands there, unflinching as a cliff before the waves breaking upon its face, as both attacks crash against her with gigantic explosions that deal absolutely no damage.

As the Shadow raises both hands above its head, gathering an even larger bomb of null-energy, Tyzias closes her eye, once more taking steady, rhythmic breaths that are precisely in time with the beat that the group feels throbbing throughout their entire beings. Its orb grows larger and larger and larger, eclipsing the platform, then the courtyard below, then the academy itself, and still Tyzias does nothing. But when it's moments away from launching the moon-sized spell at the group (what is this, some kind of shonen?), Tyzias slowly raises her arm and snaps, making a fingergun pointed directly at the attack.

A strand of silver launches through the tip of Tyzias's index finger, piercing the spell and popping it like a balloon. With a furious roar, the Shadow dives towards Tyzias, claws extended. Apparently it's done with the theatrics. Tyzias engages without pause, ducking, parrying, blocking... if it was anybody else, Tyzias's swordplay would be poetry in motion. But it's Tyzias, and it looks like pure butchery instead. Not a millimeter moved too far, not an iota of energy wasted; it's so dry and technical that it would almost be boring to watch if it wasn't executed with such dazzling speed, skill, and precision.

Her first two strikes whip past the thing's guard despite its rapidly multiplying arms, and the four after that nearly batter the shadow to its knees. But it resurges with ferocity multiplied, ferally slashing and biting at Tyzias with enough power to make the blood below it ripple with the force. It almost seems to have the troll(???) on the ropes for a few moment; Tyzias merely defends, rooted to her spot as she deflects each blow with what looks like actual effort on her part. But those well-versed in combat can tell that this is merely a facade. Tyzias's single eye is drinking in every aspect of this shadow: its anatomy, its fighting style, the way it moves, its guard, everything.

And when the time comes, it's over in an instant.

Tyzias's heart shines bright blue as dragon's blood begins flowing through her veins, levitating her with the sheer force. Then she moves. It's too fast to track for regular humans, and even the others present can barely see Tyzias as she cuts the shadow to ribbons. The roar of the sound barrier being broken again and again and again and again is almost enough to knock down the other Heroes, breaking their bond.

But not quite. And so Tyzias continues. In between a blink of an eye, she switches to knifes, tossing dozens of them into its back. Then to an assault rifle, peppering it full of melodious bullets. Then back to swords, then to magic of a kind never seen before on this world... this continues for a full half-minute before Tyzias finally kicks its knees it and shoots it in the back of the head with a pure-white pistol, execution style.

And yet it still kneels there, dazed, but not dead. Tyzias thrusts her hand back, yanking something out of the group assembled, the same Pulse that bound them together: snaking red veins of pure bond, twisting and warping and forming into seven weapons at Tyzias's side:

A gleaming white sword of smooth scale and humming blue energy, its crossguard the wings of a white dragon.

A blade of ones and zeros, the wings of a mechanical angel forming its edges.

A simple steel sword wreathed in flames.

A glacial rapier of pure ice, elegant in its refinement.

A zweihander that seems more purring black engine than blade, its headlights blazing with hellfire.

A scimitar still in the midst of being forged, stuck between raw potential and honed skill but deadly nonetheless.

And a blade of pure moonlight, shining bright.

She thrusts her palm at the shadow, and the blades fly at it in unison, ready to deal the final blow... but they stop an inch from its face as Tyzias looks at her foe, an odd expression on her face. "...this is what you want, isn't it?

"As long as we're playing by your rules in this Calamity, you can keep coming back as many times as you want. You want to fight me forever. But fuck that.

"I'm gonna blow this whole circus apart."

Tyzias calls back the blades, forming an outward-facing circle in between her wings. From her back bursts those same candy-red arteries; thicker, burning with some otherworldly fire, and growing as they shoot past the platform of blood and into the nebula enclosing the school, piercing the heavens. Everyone present feels something horrible lurch in their gut. The only way to describe it is that it feels like Tyzias is giving the Calamity a heart attack, and it's difficult not to think of what would happen if she turned these powers on the universe proper instead of this gross mockery of it. Like what the group felt with Caledfwlch, they all instantly know the name of this atrocity:

Red Miles.

The nebula begins tearing apart, showing hints of the night sky beyond as the Miles tear it to pieces. The platform begins to crumble, falling apart, but thankfully a much less destructive branch of the Miles scoops up all those who can't fly before they can plummet to their dooms, gently sloping downwards to carry the Heroes with it as Tyzias and the shadow...

Descend.

[noasark]

"Ah."

Well. WELL!!

Holy shit!

So Noa's got nothing, and the Penguins have got nothing, and frankly for now he's just kind of gawking.

Boy This Sure Is Occurring, This Instant!

[sauntereddown]

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-!"

Crowley's not fond of, er, let's say involuntary downward descent. Good thing he never really cared about being undercover. Black wings emerge from his back, as if they were always there, unhindered by his clothing. Anyone somehow neglected by the Miles, or unwilling to let it help them, will have a watchful Fallen Angel to help slow their path downwards.

But whether he's empty-handed or not, Crowley will be flying next to Aziraphale, of course. "Here I thought stopping the Apocalypse was as theatrical as we were going to get..." Well, he can't say he minds, though. Not a bit.

[temptationaccomplished]

Aziraphale may catch Pallidus, whose hand he was holding when the falling began and who (unlike Crowley) he could not assume would fly himself to safety--and he would attempt to catch who he could before it was clear the Miles would assist (women and children first, though he's inclined to think Miss Yotsuyu has this handled)--but it's almost all for naught when he hastily turns to scold Crowley.

"Crowley! Mind your language! There are children!" he says, as if the word hasn't already been used before. As if he hadn't been thinking it when the ground dropped out from beneath them either.

"And anyway. I thought you enjoyed a bit of style."

[mithrarin]

Dust was falling.

This wasn't such a bad thing; one of the unspoken powers of a platform video game protagonist the Sen-Mithrarin was the ability to fall incredible distances without harm. Heck, considering he was falling upside-down, he didn't even have to worry about his hat blowing off. But the rest, the path this had taken --

Was it right?

"Tyzias," Dust said, his voice quiet but somehow carrying over everything. "I'm the first to admit I don't know what's going on... but I had to deal with something like this before I came up to you. You can't destroy it, not outside of you. It's part of you. This all...."

He opened one hand, taking in the fiery arteries and the shredding nebula and the uncomfortable pulse of power around them. She wasn't trying to kill it, but was "blowing the whole circus apart" right?

"It's a bit much."

Dust tilted his head back slightly. Just a fraction of an inch was all it took for his eyes to meet hers.

"Let's put an end to it, Tyzias. That part of you up there... we'll take it on together, but not with swords and spells. Just life, and living."

[princepallidus]

Unlike many of the others, Pallidus is certainly not used to the sensation of falling further than to his knees. That, coupled with the dazzling display of fighting prowess and raw, unfathomable power, made this experience tenfold as terrifying. Pallidus would hardly call himself a coward but there was no hiding the way his grey skin faded further to almost white while he struggled to simply comprehend everything around him.

Terror driving him to instinct, Pallidus' fingers once again turned to claws, unable to stop himself from digging them into meat of Aziraphale's hand. The poor penguin on Pallidus' other side also had to deal with a bit of pain, though the creature was probably somewhat grateful just to have someone trying to hold it aloft. Pallidus would need to apologize later.

Once it seemed they weren't all going to immediately plummet to their door, his mind finally took a moment to ask itself, where did this leave them? What was Tyzias' actual goal here? What had even led to this nightmare scenario?

Tyzias Entykk. What are you really?