Digimon Inheritance: A Heroic Lion's Turbulent Times (Finished)

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Sergeant Scratch the Mistymon (though he mostly prefers Gladimon) is in a losing battle. Under normal circumstances he'd have never attempted to duel a Vamdemon; even in daylight the chances of winning were too low for his liking. Unfortunately, at this juncture it was the only option. More than that, the vampire hurt little Nyaromon. And that could not stand.

"Blood Punch!"

Close range physical attack; continuous strikes with fists, fast, expertly placed and timed. Lean left, dodge jab, divert right cross with arm, parry uppercut aside with sword. Haymaker will break guard, unable to dodge. Move with impact, minimize damage.

The blade-wielding Ultimate turns his head, leans back and loosens his body as the red-wreathed fist slams home on his cheek. Another solid *boom* echoes through the air as the force of the blow picks him up and tosses him backwards, straight into the Gloaming fortress' outer wall.

Shift pauldron to take take impact.

Stone in the immediate radius of his impact grinds into little more than dust, before the rest of the force travels through. The sheer kinetic energy forces what's left to violently rupture apart, clearing Scratch's path.

Armor dispersed force, no damage. Left cheekbone collapsed, two teeth cracked, one dislodged. No decrease in combat efficiency. Ignore injuries.

The Mistymon reaches out with his free hand, lightly pushes off the ground with his bruised fingers and wills himself to slow. His runaway momentum changes, turning into a controlled spring as he lands back on his feet.

"Bloody Stream!"

Rising slash, cleave tip. Leap left to dodge follow up. Goal is close.

"Grizzly Wing!"

Scratch pivots, swinging his body out of the way and letting his cape be torn apart by the surge of bats.

Wounds from Assaultmon slowing movement speed, spit out tooth. Victory through combat unlikely, loss will occur in five additional strikes.

For the first time since the fight had begun, the Sergeant lets the hint of a victorious smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Need two more to win. Core Dart, at the ready. Now-

When the officer turns back, Count is already there, his straightened hand stabbing towards the center of his chest. The Vamdemon's hand rips through the ornate metal and plunges into the weaker Ultimate's chest. The Mistymon vomits up a dense cloud of data particles and goes still.

"It's such a shame that one such as you met me so late in life. You would have been marvelous as one of my servants." Count smugly notes, before moving to rip his hand free. Only to blink in surprise as a hand closes over his wrist. "What? That should have destroyed your core!"

Maneuver successful, twist diverted damage away. Activate spells. Three seconds. Enough.

Magical energy converted into pure power and agility flow through the Mistymon's body, shredding the data of his muscles but giving him the power needed for the winning move.

Pull forward, disable leg.

Count lets out a scream as the Mistymon's boot crashes down on his knee, hyper-extending it backwards.

Pivot, twist over hip, spin to gain momentum and direct throw.

The empowered Mistymon does just that and then lets go of his cursing opponent's wrist, sending him flying towards the entrance, and takes his sword in both hands. Sergeant Scratch speaks for the first time since the battle had begun, letting his bottled up emotions out, and swings his blade.

"Blast Fire!"

Arcane fire, potent enough to effortlessly turn rock to magma, slams into the tumbling Gloaming Lord. While it wasn't enough to delete him, or cause the Vamdemon any real injury for that matter Scratch knew that it would be very painful. More importantly it would burn up the enemy's cloak, preventing him from maneuvering mid-air, and carry him deeper inside the mountain fortress.

"Core Dart."

Far down down below, deep in the bowels of the fortress, a crystalline ball burgeoning with power, placed there at the very start of the mission, flares. One concentrated burst of blazing energy lances out from the lower portion, striking the pile of extremely energy dense parasitic crystals.

Run.

===[] Try to comfort Ardat? You don't really know why the idea popped into your head, or why part of your mind is pushing you do it, but for some reason it seems like a good idea.

With Ardat's tirade over, the Witchmon goes directly back to sulking. She turns away from the group, slumps her shoulders, and you swear you can make out a few sniffles. The flesh at the edge of your injuries pulses uncomfortably for a second, as a foreign thought pops into your mind.

Should… Should I try to comfort Lady Ardat?

You don't particularly get why the sudden urge to console the feminine digimon pops into your mind, or why the urge is so powerful, but you shrug and go with the feeling, silently padding towards the melancholic champion. The fact that it's strange for you to approach the Repulsa-like mon without being forced to or having something to get out of it registers in your mind, but finds itself pushed aside by a more important desire.

"Exveemon... Why did he have to..." Ardat trails off into a sob, then straightens at the sound of your claw scraping against a stone. She whirls around to look at you, tears slowly trailing down both cheeks, and then steps back with a gulp. "Verge, she's-I'm so sorry. We didn't mean to-too..."

It's okay My Lady.

You wrap your furry arms around the red-garbed champion and pull her towards your shoulder, where the thick fur is still intact. A vast portion of your mind starts screaming to let go and run away as her arms wrap around your bulk, squeezing tightly and sobbing into your fur, but a flash of light purple pain as your wounds throb pushes it back down.

After Flamemon and the others had died, Sparks had cried into your fur every night for the next couple weeks. You're glad to be able to provide the same service for The Lady.

The others survivors talk in the background, but you pay it no mind, focused only one comforting The Mistress.

*CrackaThoom*

You're knocked out of the trance and then some as a massive explosion erupts in the distance, bursting your left ear in a flash of pain. A wave of force follows half a moment later, throwing both you and Ardat off the hilltop and down towards the rocky valley below. The Witchmon snaps into action before more than a second can pass, summoning her saddled boom to catch her. You flail around and try to scream as her hands painfully grasp the purple fur on your back, but it leaks out your exposed throat.

A second later Ardat drops you back on the hill, and you step away from the flying Witchmon, trying (and failing) to wince as the edges of flesh yet to rot away flashes back into the forefront of your thoughts. Glancing down seems to indicate that a little bit, perhaps a centimeter or less, of the muscle, sinew and skin have crept up, but as of now the injury is still extremely far from being healed.

Spirits above! What was that?!

You turn back towards the grove where Sparks had been knocked out, your eye furiously searching for the Wizardmon. You let out a sigh of relief as he's revealed to just have been pushed near the edge. Your friend leaps up with a curse, his sole handing desperately grabbing at empty air, then curses again as he realizes that his focus is gone. His overly reflective eyes spot you and he lets out a breath of relief. Beat steps up beside him, the head of the Wizardmon's staff held carefully in one clawed hand. Sparks stares at the piece with his eyes narrowed, then nods and takes the offered shard of his focus.

Up above, Pidmon stirs in Angemon's arms, his wings flapping once to free from from the grasp.

"Angemon? Friends?" He mumbles, sounding strangely tired. "Do we have have victory over the gloaming this... Aaaaah, day?"

"You're still alive aren't you?" Angewomon snorts, dropping the limp form of her serpentine subordinate like a wet towel. The Dramon twitches mid-fall, snapping awake as well to hover above the ground. "Now, can any of you chuckleheads tell me what in the Dark Zone that was?" Behind her, Maildramon stands in the same place as before, the massive armored Dramon seeming to have not even been moved a little.

After a few seconds with no answer, the almost critically wounded angel settles back down to the ground with a grunt of pain and sigh.

"Daemonshit, fine. Angemon, Airdramon!" She snaps, visible eye turning to look at the flying champions. "Scout the fortress, find out what that was, and see if Scratch made it out."

"Yes Ma'am!/Rgh." The angel and dragon answer.

"I'll come too!" Pidmon volunteers, but the feminine Ultimate shakes her head.

"You're the only Pidmon here. Focus on casting your stupid healing technique."

"But I-"

"It's okay, Pidmon." Angemon smiles, resting a hand on the younger champion's shoulder. "We all serve The Lord In Heaven in our own ways."

"Yes sir!" Your friend grins, before flying down towards the center area between yourself and Beat. "Mega Heal!" A pulse of energy erupts from his rod, spreading over the gathered champions, and healing small parts of their wounds. When it reaches you, the various cuts small injuries around your body (including your ear) knit themselves back together, but your scar and the edges of flesh recovering from Ardat's attack flash painfully. You double over with another attempted scream, but don't miss the thud as your friend collapses to his knees.

Pidmon let's out a tired moan, and struggles to stand back up, but has to resort to planting his weapon in the ground to avoid falling over altogether. Pidmon's helmet turns to face you-then immediately jerks his head away to avoid looking at your face.

To your right Ardat let's out a small "sorry..." and lowers her head.

"Bah, fine! Stupid viral wounds, I'll take care of it later." Angewomon grumbles, waving her hand dismissively in your direction.

A few minutes pass in relative boredom (and extreme awkwardness) as you try not to look at The Witchmon whom you'd hugged (AAAAAAAAAA), and instead focus on counting the many rocks lining the hill (three hundred and eighty-eight) before the sound of wingbeats draws your attention back towards the copse of trees.

"Scratch! You're-we knew you'd be okay!"

The heavily battered form of a familiar Mistymon drops down beside Ardat, his eyes narrowed as they look her over for damage. After a couple seconds he nods to himself, grabs her by the cape and pulls her away.

"We need to move." He states, sounding his usual bored self once again. "Vamdemon will heal quickly once the sun sets, then dig his way free from the mountain."

"You..." Angewomon tilts her head at the older digimon, eye full of what you suspect to be respect "Dropped a mountain on him?"

Um... What? How-how does a mon drop a mountain on someone else?!

"Yes." The Sergeant answers flatly, turning his head to examine the rest of his squad.

"Lord A-fuckin'-bove"

"-Hey!" Angemon shouts indignantly, but is ignored.

"Can I like, buy you drink later?" She asks hopefully, sneakily edging closer.

"No." Your leader replies without hesitation. "Now mount the Maildramon, your wounds will get worse if you fly."

"Fine." The Ultimate sighs, moving towards the huge champion while grumbling something under her breath "Figures that he'd have a stick up his ass no matter what body he's in..."

Scratch quickly moves about the hilltop, tossing first Sparks, then a flailing Ardat towards the saddle. He stops to look at you frowns, then the next second passes in a blur of pain as he hauls on your scruff and tosses you towards the Maildramon. Soft hands grab you from the air, and Angewomon settles you down near the box's center and whistles.

"Holy fuck, they did a real number on you." She swears, one visible eye peering at your face, throat and chest. "Which of those Gloaming bastards managed that pretty thing?"

You:

=== Choose One:

[] Do nothing. It might bring Lady Ardat to her attention.

[] Point over towards the Witchmon, then mime a clawing motion.

=== During The Ride Back You: (Choose One)

[] Rest and recuperate. Your injury is healing, if slowly. Maybe after a long nap your body will be back to normal?

[] Spend your time doing some studying. As Scratch pointed out, you're so very close to learning the Flame Shroud spell. Inching a little closer won't hurt.

[] Use your best pantomime to *ask* Angewomon about what happened. You're a bit confused about where the MetalMameon is and what happened to injure her so badly.

[] Spend the time with Sparks. You can't talk, but he can. Maybe he'd be willing to talk at you for a bit?

[] Write in.

=== Stat Changes:

• Strength: 242.25
• Fortitude: 219.25->220.50
• Endurance: 207.25
• Agility: 178.25
• Special: 194.25->196.75
• Spirit: 157.25

===Authors Note: The option picked isn't mind-raping Verge, and healing (which is upcoming soon) will get rid of the more obvious mental effects, (thank you Ultimate level techniques!) but some specific interactions will be a bit altered now.