"My flesh was dull gold...and my blood, rotted. Let your flesh be consumed. By the scarlet rot."
Now, Rot (Worm/Elden Ring)
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Rot 1.1
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Rot 1.1:
January 18th, 2011
Humid, muggy, it felt as if he were stepping into a swamp far south, rather than a school in New England, in January no less. Of course, right at this moment, Winslow High certainly didn't feel like a school. Red sludge coated the floors, and even some walls, as workers in bright yellow hazmat suits struggled to scrub the substance away, powerwashers and pungent chemicals slowly but surely beating back the strange flood of scarlet filth that had flooded the hallways. The worst part, however, was the smell, a thick scent of decay holding tight in the air, a scent he associated with the aftermath of massacres, iron mixed with exposed innards, a scent that had no place in a school, even one such as Winslow. Some progress had been made in combatting the scourge, over the course of the many hours since the incident, enough that there were pathways through the halls that one could walk through without a hazmat suit or heavy rubber boots, but despite this, it would still take many weeks of hard work to drag the school out of this all encompassing mire that had suddenly flooded it. The ambulances that had ferried away far too many students, all writhing in agony, horrifying scarring across their bodies, had long since left, shuttling the survivors to the hospital as quickly as possible, and now as Colin marched through the school, metal boots leaving ripples in the thin puddles of sludge he stepped through, he was met with exhausted, emotionally taxed officers speaking to his teammate. Hannah Washington, or Miss Militia now that they were at work, heard him before he even spoke, the clunk of metal against ceramic tiles announcing his presence. As she turned towards him, even he could tell she was tired, her eyes lacking the trademark smile that she'd always been known for on their team, instead somehow managing to convey a mix of a scowl and a frown, an expression full of frustration, something Colin found unsurprising and relatable given the events of the day.
"Miss Militia." He nodded, stepping up to her as the tired officer she'd been speaking to before stepped away, drawn into conversation with his colleagues some distance down the hallway they stood in. "Do we know what happened here yet?"
Her expression, already frustrated, quickly withered at his query, something which did not fill him with much hope. "Not as much as I'd prefer. We have some idea of what this-" She gestured out towards any remaining muck nearby. "Is, and what caused it, but the questions I know you and I both really want answered, who did this, why, and where are they…..I hate that I can't tell you those."
He couldn't help the angry sigh that slipped out of him at that. It was exactly what he'd been expecting, but it still forced a scowl onto his face at hearing it. The reports had come in around noon, first of people calling in that a bright red flash of light had been seen inside Winslow. Then came the calls about screams of agony being audible from the school, of people being seen fleeing from Winslow High. It hadn't taken the police long to understand what had happened by the time calls from those within Winslow itself started to pour in; the school had been the victim of a bio-terrorist attack. Of course, the severity of it was only ascertained once first responders had finally arrived, and had immediately called for backup. More ambulances, more police, as many hazmat suits as they could manage, each were some of the first requests sent out. Parahuman involvement was assumed even faster, and so Miss Militia found herself joining the first responders in the opening hours of the crisis. To his shame, Colin had been locked away in his lab, tinkering once again, and had only recently been informed of the crisis in the closing hours of it, though he'd immediately set out for Winslow once he had finally heard the news. He was pulled out of his thoughts before he could think any more on his tardiness as Hannah continued her report, her frustration quickly slipping away as she spoke, her exhaustion far more prominent.
"It was…..this was bad. This was really, really bad, Armsmaster. Pretty much the entire school was effected, casualties across the board, though thankfully, there were very few fatalities so far. But nobody's coming out of this untouched. The only students and faculty who weren't affected by this…this….monstrosity, were the ones who weren't even here." With a sharp intake of breath, full of anger, she continued, her eyes darkening. "We've identified it as some sort of flesh eating virus. It works oddly, building up slowly, but once it hits a certain threshold, it simply seems to devour a person from the inside out. We only know this after some of the EMTs were unlucky enough to witness firsthand someone crossing the threshold."
Colin nodded, a hand on his chin as he considered this information. "All signs point to this being a Parahuman, possibly a Biotinker, then. That behavior is far too strange for a normal virus, much less one that suddenly appeared in the middle of a high school."
"Exactly why we were called in so quickly, once the first responders had some idea of what was happening here. God, the effect it had on their bodies….for some people it just seemed to taper out suddenly, leaving them with just this horrible scarring on their limbs and bodies, for others…they're either dead or lost their limbs. There's not a single victim walking away without serious disfigurement."
She shook her head, turning away from him. Colin noted her rigid stance, her clenched fist. Her power was in her right hand, constantly swapping between a knife and a small pistol, the green glow a contrast with the sickly red of their surroundings. He let her be for a moment, figuring it best to let her calm down, as he considered all this information. Frankly speaking, Colin, just like Hannah, was absolutely sickened by what happened. He'd been sent some pictures of some of the worst cases, students with their arms and legs looking rotten and sickly, harsh, scalelike scarring hued black and gold patterned across their bodies. One of the greatest victims was a girl who'd come out of this with just one arm intact, and still horribly scarred, both legs cutting off at uneven points, one at the ankle, the other nearer to her upper thigh, while the entirety of her right arm, shoulder and all, was quite simply gone, a mixture of eaten away, and removed before even more of her body could be ravaged by this plague. There was nothing he'd like more than to bring whoever was capable of this crime to justice, no matter the cost, and he said as much, voice firm with righteous indignation.
"We will find whoever did this. You have my word. I refuse to let this monster escape from the justice they deserve." His words pulled Miss Militia out of her quiet anger, some of the light he was more accustomed to seeing coming back into her eyes, a weak crinkling creating the illusion of an unsteady but hopeful smile on her masked face.
"Definitely, Armsmaster. They already won't be able to succeed on this scale again. We know both the signs, and the vector of transmission."
Colin started at that, somewhat surprised. Even a hint of the source could help them narrow down the suspects (once they had suspects), bringing them one step closer to finding this villain.
"We do? What is it?" Hannah stretched out her arms, gesturing to their surroundings.
"We're surrounded by it. That red sludge is basically 'it'. We don't know the initial cause, but all this around us was once organic, non-human material, like food, or partially anyway. A lot of it was spread further by mixing with water. Whatever this was breaks stuff down into that gunk, and people touching it, and getting it on them, starts the buildup of this…this rot." Her voice quieted then, as she remembered yet another unpleasant detail of this fiasco.
"We're lucky it wasn't lunchtime, honestly. The cafeteria is a cesspool of the stuff, and most of the fatalities came from there. The entire kitchen area is basically inaccessible….we could only find corpses of the cafeteria staff. There's so much of the stuff there, it even gave us further insight into this catastrophe. There were weird, mushroom-like growths growing in there, and the air was thick with what we think was an airborne form of the bioweapon, enough that it was actually visible. It's cordoned off now. The police still aren't sure how they'll clear it all out."
His grimace returned the more she spoke, the information both enlightening, and deeply unsettling as he began to understand just how incredibly dangerous this horrible blight was, and his mind began to piece together theories on what exactly occurred here today.
"It's more than I could have hoped for, with this tragedy. Thank you, Miss Militia. Good work." Colin placed his hand on his colleague's shoulder, and for the first time, it truly clicked just how tired she must be as he processed the information she'd handed him. "You must be dead on your feet, though. Go rest. I can talk to the officers here, and report back to the Director in your stead. Let me handle this."
Myriad emotions flickered across Hannah's face, indignation warring with exhaustion, until it finally settled on tired acceptance as she nodded. "...Thank you, Armsmaster. I…I could probably use a break. The officers can fill you in on anything I might've missed." Even though the decision had been difficult, it didn't take long for Hannah to be moving away, the woman clearly eager to get away from this whole mess, for at least a little while. She was even a good few steps past him, as he moved to speak with the nearby officers, before she turned around, seemingly remembering something.
"Oh, Armsmaster. One more thing I almost forgot to mention. There's a name for this, that the EMTs and officers started calling it. I think it'll stick, personally. They're calling it 'the scarlet rot'."
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And here's my first foray into really writing fanfiction. Once I'd played enough of Elden Ring, this idea just wouldn't escape me. Too much potential in my mind. This is sort of a concept chapter, as generally speaking, I'm making this up as I go, and will likely continue to do so, though I do have some specific plot points planned out in my head! Feel free to comment, theorize, and criticize, though I'd ask to keep it civil and constructive. I hope you enjoy this and whatever I post next! I originally posted this on Spacebattles, but figured there's no reason not to post it here too!
January 18th, 2011
Humid, muggy, it felt as if he were stepping into a swamp far south, rather than a school in New England, in January no less. Of course, right at this moment, Winslow High certainly didn't feel like a school. Red sludge coated the floors, and even some walls, as workers in bright yellow hazmat suits struggled to scrub the substance away, powerwashers and pungent chemicals slowly but surely beating back the strange flood of scarlet filth that had flooded the hallways. The worst part, however, was the smell, a thick scent of decay holding tight in the air, a scent he associated with the aftermath of massacres, iron mixed with exposed innards, a scent that had no place in a school, even one such as Winslow. Some progress had been made in combatting the scourge, over the course of the many hours since the incident, enough that there were pathways through the halls that one could walk through without a hazmat suit or heavy rubber boots, but despite this, it would still take many weeks of hard work to drag the school out of this all encompassing mire that had suddenly flooded it. The ambulances that had ferried away far too many students, all writhing in agony, horrifying scarring across their bodies, had long since left, shuttling the survivors to the hospital as quickly as possible, and now as Colin marched through the school, metal boots leaving ripples in the thin puddles of sludge he stepped through, he was met with exhausted, emotionally taxed officers speaking to his teammate. Hannah Washington, or Miss Militia now that they were at work, heard him before he even spoke, the clunk of metal against ceramic tiles announcing his presence. As she turned towards him, even he could tell she was tired, her eyes lacking the trademark smile that she'd always been known for on their team, instead somehow managing to convey a mix of a scowl and a frown, an expression full of frustration, something Colin found unsurprising and relatable given the events of the day.
"Miss Militia." He nodded, stepping up to her as the tired officer she'd been speaking to before stepped away, drawn into conversation with his colleagues some distance down the hallway they stood in. "Do we know what happened here yet?"
Her expression, already frustrated, quickly withered at his query, something which did not fill him with much hope. "Not as much as I'd prefer. We have some idea of what this-" She gestured out towards any remaining muck nearby. "Is, and what caused it, but the questions I know you and I both really want answered, who did this, why, and where are they…..I hate that I can't tell you those."
He couldn't help the angry sigh that slipped out of him at that. It was exactly what he'd been expecting, but it still forced a scowl onto his face at hearing it. The reports had come in around noon, first of people calling in that a bright red flash of light had been seen inside Winslow. Then came the calls about screams of agony being audible from the school, of people being seen fleeing from Winslow High. It hadn't taken the police long to understand what had happened by the time calls from those within Winslow itself started to pour in; the school had been the victim of a bio-terrorist attack. Of course, the severity of it was only ascertained once first responders had finally arrived, and had immediately called for backup. More ambulances, more police, as many hazmat suits as they could manage, each were some of the first requests sent out. Parahuman involvement was assumed even faster, and so Miss Militia found herself joining the first responders in the opening hours of the crisis. To his shame, Colin had been locked away in his lab, tinkering once again, and had only recently been informed of the crisis in the closing hours of it, though he'd immediately set out for Winslow once he had finally heard the news. He was pulled out of his thoughts before he could think any more on his tardiness as Hannah continued her report, her frustration quickly slipping away as she spoke, her exhaustion far more prominent.
"It was…..this was bad. This was really, really bad, Armsmaster. Pretty much the entire school was effected, casualties across the board, though thankfully, there were very few fatalities so far. But nobody's coming out of this untouched. The only students and faculty who weren't affected by this…this….monstrosity, were the ones who weren't even here." With a sharp intake of breath, full of anger, she continued, her eyes darkening. "We've identified it as some sort of flesh eating virus. It works oddly, building up slowly, but once it hits a certain threshold, it simply seems to devour a person from the inside out. We only know this after some of the EMTs were unlucky enough to witness firsthand someone crossing the threshold."
Colin nodded, a hand on his chin as he considered this information. "All signs point to this being a Parahuman, possibly a Biotinker, then. That behavior is far too strange for a normal virus, much less one that suddenly appeared in the middle of a high school."
"Exactly why we were called in so quickly, once the first responders had some idea of what was happening here. God, the effect it had on their bodies….for some people it just seemed to taper out suddenly, leaving them with just this horrible scarring on their limbs and bodies, for others…they're either dead or lost their limbs. There's not a single victim walking away without serious disfigurement."
She shook her head, turning away from him. Colin noted her rigid stance, her clenched fist. Her power was in her right hand, constantly swapping between a knife and a small pistol, the green glow a contrast with the sickly red of their surroundings. He let her be for a moment, figuring it best to let her calm down, as he considered all this information. Frankly speaking, Colin, just like Hannah, was absolutely sickened by what happened. He'd been sent some pictures of some of the worst cases, students with their arms and legs looking rotten and sickly, harsh, scalelike scarring hued black and gold patterned across their bodies. One of the greatest victims was a girl who'd come out of this with just one arm intact, and still horribly scarred, both legs cutting off at uneven points, one at the ankle, the other nearer to her upper thigh, while the entirety of her right arm, shoulder and all, was quite simply gone, a mixture of eaten away, and removed before even more of her body could be ravaged by this plague. There was nothing he'd like more than to bring whoever was capable of this crime to justice, no matter the cost, and he said as much, voice firm with righteous indignation.
"We will find whoever did this. You have my word. I refuse to let this monster escape from the justice they deserve." His words pulled Miss Militia out of her quiet anger, some of the light he was more accustomed to seeing coming back into her eyes, a weak crinkling creating the illusion of an unsteady but hopeful smile on her masked face.
"Definitely, Armsmaster. They already won't be able to succeed on this scale again. We know both the signs, and the vector of transmission."
Colin started at that, somewhat surprised. Even a hint of the source could help them narrow down the suspects (once they had suspects), bringing them one step closer to finding this villain.
"We do? What is it?" Hannah stretched out her arms, gesturing to their surroundings.
"We're surrounded by it. That red sludge is basically 'it'. We don't know the initial cause, but all this around us was once organic, non-human material, like food, or partially anyway. A lot of it was spread further by mixing with water. Whatever this was breaks stuff down into that gunk, and people touching it, and getting it on them, starts the buildup of this…this rot." Her voice quieted then, as she remembered yet another unpleasant detail of this fiasco.
"We're lucky it wasn't lunchtime, honestly. The cafeteria is a cesspool of the stuff, and most of the fatalities came from there. The entire kitchen area is basically inaccessible….we could only find corpses of the cafeteria staff. There's so much of the stuff there, it even gave us further insight into this catastrophe. There were weird, mushroom-like growths growing in there, and the air was thick with what we think was an airborne form of the bioweapon, enough that it was actually visible. It's cordoned off now. The police still aren't sure how they'll clear it all out."
His grimace returned the more she spoke, the information both enlightening, and deeply unsettling as he began to understand just how incredibly dangerous this horrible blight was, and his mind began to piece together theories on what exactly occurred here today.
"It's more than I could have hoped for, with this tragedy. Thank you, Miss Militia. Good work." Colin placed his hand on his colleague's shoulder, and for the first time, it truly clicked just how tired she must be as he processed the information she'd handed him. "You must be dead on your feet, though. Go rest. I can talk to the officers here, and report back to the Director in your stead. Let me handle this."
Myriad emotions flickered across Hannah's face, indignation warring with exhaustion, until it finally settled on tired acceptance as she nodded. "...Thank you, Armsmaster. I…I could probably use a break. The officers can fill you in on anything I might've missed." Even though the decision had been difficult, it didn't take long for Hannah to be moving away, the woman clearly eager to get away from this whole mess, for at least a little while. She was even a good few steps past him, as he moved to speak with the nearby officers, before she turned around, seemingly remembering something.
"Oh, Armsmaster. One more thing I almost forgot to mention. There's a name for this, that the EMTs and officers started calling it. I think it'll stick, personally. They're calling it 'the scarlet rot'."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And here's my first foray into really writing fanfiction. Once I'd played enough of Elden Ring, this idea just wouldn't escape me. Too much potential in my mind. This is sort of a concept chapter, as generally speaking, I'm making this up as I go, and will likely continue to do so, though I do have some specific plot points planned out in my head! Feel free to comment, theorize, and criticize, though I'd ask to keep it civil and constructive. I hope you enjoy this and whatever I post next! I originally posted this on Spacebattles, but figured there's no reason not to post it here too!
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Loved the first chapter and can't wait for more.
- Location
- 𐌂 ̢͎̩̤̲̙͓̑̀͂͒̀͆̏𐋏 ̛͏̫̚𐌀 ̛͉̥̩̤̰͈̂̅͒͊͟𐍈 ̣͛𐍃 ̡̅̈́
Well, it was gory. It's time to isolate Brockton - who knows what else they can do? Maybe there is airborne agent or something... Paranoia, yay!
verycoolname
Not actually cool
How close is this Scarlet Rot to the real deal?
I'm asking because lore-wise, Scarlet Rot can do some wild stuff. It comes from the power of a sealed Outer god and can 'rot' minds (like Radahn's) or the environment (like Caelid and its wildlife). So someone with a profound enough connection to the power would be fully able rot an Endbringer.
I'm asking because lore-wise, Scarlet Rot can do some wild stuff. It comes from the power of a sealed Outer god and can 'rot' minds (like Radahn's) or the environment (like Caelid and its wildlife). So someone with a profound enough connection to the power would be fully able rot an Endbringer.
- Location
- 𐌂 ̢͎̩̤̲̙͓̑̀͂͒̀͆̏𐋏 ̛͏̫̚𐌀 ̛͉̥̩̤̰͈̂̅͒͊͟𐍈 ̣͛𐍃 ̡̅̈́
Sounds serious, because it means it can rot through dimensional shenanigans protecting them. Even possibly rot the whole planet, because real body of an Endringer is incredibly large mass of shard's crystal flesh locked in other dimention.
verycoolname
Not actually cool
Exactly. Endbringers are bullshit, but they aren't bullshit enough compared to the lovecraftian, reality twisting bullshit that the Outer gods are capable of.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Without spoiling some stuff I have planned, this is, for all intents and purposes, THE scarlet rot. How it ended up here will become clearer later on. To be honest, doing the Rot justice is probably the hardest part, just because it is a.) overpowered, and b.) somewhat unclear how exactly it works/effects the body and the world. For instance, I'm assuming/headcanoning that it effects organic material like food and melts/rots it down cause it makes sense that it would, and it explains all the Scarlet in Scarlet Rot.
verycoolname
Not actually cool
I'm definitely looking forward to it. As much as I dislike Malenia(blade of Miquella) for what she did to my boy Radahn, she definitely has the coolness factor. And a huge part of that is the Scarlet rot's aesthetic with the juxtaposition between the rotting/mushrooms and the flower/butterflies.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Most of my inspiration is that juxtaposition, specifically the absolutely gorgeous butterfly murder form she smacks us with in phase 2! I haven't even actually beaten her yet hahaha
Rot 1.2
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Rot 1.2:
April 8th, 2011
Taylor Herbert
My life was, strictly speaking, not the greatest. Now, I'm sure you hear that and immediately want to say 'Oh no, honey, don't worry! It'll get better, surely it's not that bad!', right? Well, if you do say that, I just want to say that I will hurt you for saying that. Why am I so bitter, you might ask? Well, it's a lot of things. Too many things for a fifteen year old girl to have had to deal with. But they happened, and I'm the one left picking up the pieces of a life that is becoming increasingly….shattered.
It's easy to identify the point where everything went downhill for me. My mom died. The world took her away from me, in a moment of appalling stupidity at the hands of others, and she took my dad with her. Then my best friend, my sister in all but blood, ripped herself away from me. I still don't know why, and there was a point when I would have given anything to have that question answered. Even when she worked to destroy me, destroy my life, I still would have loved to know just why, if only because the answer might have made her actions hurt slightly less. But I couldn't bring myself to care about Emma, or Sophia, or Madison, or anything that had happened to me before January. Not anymore, anyway.
I couldn't help but sigh as I wheeled myself over to the window, trying to think more positively, like my physical therapist kept telling me to. It was tough, getting used to being sat down forever, and I understood why she told me to think like that. This was the state of the rest of my life, after all. But as I stared at the black/gold, rotten nubs where my legs used to be, and the empty space where my arm once hung from my body, I couldn't help but get angry. Indescribably, iridescently. If I hadn't developed a similar hatred for the color, I'd say my vision had gone red.
The authorities had called it a terror attack. They weren't sure who or why, beyond the fact that they were certain it was a Parahuman. They'd vowed to find the culprit, Armsmaster even personally swearing on live television that he would not rest until the perpetrator of such a monstrous act had been found, but it became harder and harder to find comfort in those words as the months stretched on with no word, as March passed and we entered April. I'd count February too if I hadn't been in a coma that entire month. Winslow still wasn't open, either, and Arcadia, and any other school for that matter, was clogged with transfers, so for the past few months I'd had nothing to do but get used to my new situation.
Now, the one thought that gave me solace was the idea of catching whoever caused this myself. I didn't care about the Trio anymore, anything they'd done to me couldn't compare to what this nameless, faceless Villain with a capital V had done to me. I didn't remember much from the day of the attack. My memory made it up to noon before it all cuts off in a brilliant flash of bright scarlet, and suddenly I'm in March when last I'd checked it was mid-January. But I did know exactly what had been done to me. My arm, eaten away by the rot all the way up to my shoulder. Both my legs, cut off at irregular portions. My only 'good' limb, only somewhat functional and hideous to look at, ravaged as it was by this scarlet rot, and every bit of my body affected had a tendency to burn with pain when I wasn't paying attention. A constant reminder of my loss. And lastly, the one silver lini-
"Hey, kiddo. How're you feeling today?" I was broken out of my anger fueled thoughts of the crimes against me and revenge fantasies about those crimes by the concerned, quiet voice of my father. I wheeled myself around a bit, back away from the window that I had totally not been gazing out solemnly, forcing a weak smile onto my face.
"I'm doing…doing just fine dad!" His expression shifted, for a moment, a mix of pensive and sad. It was clear to me that he didn't really believe me. It was also just as clear, after the last few weeks, that he wasn't going to say anything about it. Ever since I'd come back from the hospital, dad had become this annoying mix of doting and distant. When he was home from work and awake, he was constantly prepared to help me in any way, with getting in and out of my wheelchair, all the way to opening the fridge for me, as I struggled with even that, with my one arm as weak as it was thanks to the rot.. He'd already done so much for me, really, him, and the Dockworkers Union. When dad's work had heard about my condition, they'd all chipped in, and helped my dad purchase and install one of those expensive, moving electric chairs to help me get up and down the stairs, two wheelchairs, and a ramp on our front steps. Honestly, I should have been ecstatic. It almost seemed like I'd gotten my dad back.
Almost, anyway. Then there'd be moments like this, where he'd clearly want to say something to me, but not, thinking I'm too….too fragile. It made me want to rip my hair out even more than I already did. Going back to my dad, though, his pensive look disappeared quickly, and he was nodding and slipping away from me, disappearing into the house, unable to confront his daughter about her problems.
Maybe I was being too harsh. But I'm a deformed cripple who can barely function now, as far as he knows, couldn't go to school cause my only options were a biohazard that didn't have handicap accessibility anyway, and another which I'd yet to hear back from about transferring just yet. When he went out of his way to avoid me, unable to stay in my presence and speak to me for some reason, it hurt.
I shook my head wildly, trying my best to put my painfully strained relationship with my father out of my mind. Returning to my window gazing, my thoughts were fast to return to the event that had changed my life more than it had already been changing to begin with. There was one silver lining from all of it, though perhaps silver lining was the wrong term to use. It was the one thing resembling a positive that I'd come out of what the media had called the 'Scarlet Attack'. To some, it'd probably seem like fitting payback. To me, it just felt like a chance for revenge.
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Hours later, night had finally fallen on the city I called home. And as anybody who lived in Brockton Bay knew, the night was when the criminals that called this city home came crawling out. Drug dealers from the Merchants, swastika bearing racists of the E88, and gun toting Asians, backed by the power of Lung and the ABB, slipped onto the streets of Brockton Bay. They were like a rot upon this city, and if there's one thing I hated, it was rot. So as I counted the seconds since I'd heard my dad slip into his bedroom to go to sleep, knowing he'd collapse quickly, as he always did, I finally, finally, did what I'd been waiting to do all day, and stood up.
As the dull gold prosthetics formed upon my legs, I couldn't help but marvel at them, as I did every time I made them appear. Finely detailed, with intricate golden carvings, there were even toes, that I could somehow, magically wiggle! I didn't understand why my power made them look like this, and why I couldn't change it, but as I reveled in the novelty of standing, a luxury I'd never take for granted again, as I slowly dressed myself in my homemade outfit. It was a mix of fabrics, most of which had once been my mom's, that I'd turned into a long, almost tunic-like dress. It was able to hang low enough to cover up the scarring on my legs, light enough to not mess with my movement, and was a plain and simple beige thing, but it was the best I could do with what I had, and once I'd added a small red cape at the top, it had even started feeling right, if still a bit too dull and boring. To top it all off, my power gave me a beautiful golden helmet, golden wings standing up from a curved half helm, slants through the visor helping me see, the perfect thing to look good and still hide my identity. All at the price of turning my beloved hair an upsettingly bright scarlet. I could handle dull reds like my cape, but the scarlet of my hair reminded me too much of the attack that had left me so horribly crippled, and while I could admit it looked just as good red as it did black, I felt that I was allowed to still absolutely despise it.
A few more minutes of waiting, to make absolutely certain my dad was asleep, and fast as I could (which was pretty fast now), I was out my window, down onto the streets, and running. I was able to forget my troubles, for just a moment, as the wind whipped past my face as I ran, my metal feet light on the concrete as I moved in a way I could never have managed with my old legs. If I adored the fact I could stand thanks to my power, then I was in love with how it let me move. I doubted I'd beat Velocity in a race anytime soon, but anybody without a Mover rating? As I leaped up from the streets to the rooftops of the Bay, I knew they'd never catch me.
My sudden sprint ended about when I reached the Docks, the old Ship Graveyard looming in the distance, the metal hulks a continuously depressing sight in a city so sick with the rot of criminals. Despite the distance I'd traveled from my house, I wasn't even breathing heavy, instead feeling lighter than ever. No reminding pains from the remnants of the rot still lurking in my limbs. I was in a good mood, an incredibly good mood. It was a shame that Brockton Bay liked to ruin things like that.
"...the children, just shoot. Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"
My blood ran cold, the April chill seemingly intensifying as I stared at the scene below me. A group of gangbangers, gathered around a tall man covered in tattoos, a man no one in Brockton Bay hadn't heard of at one point or another in their lifetimes. The terror of the Protectorate, able to solo teams of heroes with ease, a giant rage dragon that left city blocks in ashes. I couldn't fight Lung. All my powers did was give me metal legs and run fast! I'd never even been in a fight! I'd die instantly, immediately. Then how would I ever get my revenge?
"But the children…" I didn't even realize it was my own voice speaking as I stared at the assembled group of men below me. The thought of children getting hurt made a part of me burn with anger, thoughts of the Winslow attack filling my mind. The last time someone had attacked children, I'd been left horribly scarred. I couldn't let it happen again. I couldn't….
"No, no, I'd just get myself killed. I…I'll just call the Protectorate…with my nonexistent cellphone…" But the children, those words echoed in my thoughts once more, and suddenly there was a flash. A memory crossed across my eyes. It was hard to tell who it was. Most of their features were obscured, besides their pale skin. I couldn't even necessarily tell if it was a girl or a boy. They were saying….something, words that I couldn't actually hear, yet felt in my bones. A sense of calm settled through my body, as my helmeted gaze turned back to the gathering of vagabonds and bandits on the ground, and without a second thought, I leapt down. My landing was quiet, despite my prosthetics and the distance I had fallen, though it was a moot point given I now stood right before the group. Before the Scarlet Attack, I'd been rather tall, especially for a girl, and I hadn't measured myself up to anyone yet, but now as I quite literally loomed at least a foot over everyone before me, even Lung, it clicked that I was now rather absurdly tall. It almost made me stumble, suddenly feeling a bit awkward over my newfound height, until that same calm, something I was quickly beginning to realize must be a Thinker aspect of my power, took hold once again.
"No children will be dying today. Not while I stand before you." I almost surprised myself at how….sure, I sounded, as I spoke, no quavering warble of fear in my voice as I stared down a group of armed gangsters and a literal man-dragon.
"The hell? Who are you, some weakling cripple hero? Must be new, if you're willing to threaten me. With one arm, too! Do you even know who you're talking to?" The muscular crimelord shook his head, his expression unreadable behind his mask, but he sounded both bored, and annoyed, to have had his hunt interrupted. "It doesn't matter, just shoot her first, before you kill those stupid brats."
My heart pounded in my chest at those words, as the barrels of guns turned towards me, and for a moment, I couldn't even think. So rather than do that, I moved. With a single bound I was flying through the hair, and a quick kick to the head with my metal leg brought down the first gangster of my hero career. There wasn't even a second before I was leaping through the air again, my knee crashing into the face of another thug before I was pushing off the ground again with my other leg, flipping over backwards to land behind another man before my leg crashed into his side, sending him flying across the lot. There were about twenty, twenty five gang members surrounding me, and in a handful of seconds I had just knocked out three of them with ease. I didn't even understand how, I just knew that I'd done it. Before I could fall further into questioning myself and my powers, though, I was interrupted by the sound of slow, sarcastic clapping.
"What a show! Maybe you aren't a weakling after all. Certainly stupid though. You've attacked my men, which means you've attacked the ABB. Which means you've attacked me! I have to kill you now. But I'll give you the honor of asking your name, so the gravestone has something more than just 'dumbass' on it! Who are you?"
Ever since I'd realized I had powers, I'd struggled with finding a name for myself. Some were taken, others felt dumb. And even now, there were words just on the tip of my tongue, a name, a title, an idea I wanted to say but had no idea what it could be. But now, in this moment, there was another name, the perfect words for this situation that rolled off my tongue so easily. Along with something else…
"I…am the hero, Valkyrie!" As I spoke, I shifted my body, and at my missing shoulder, where I'd sewn the sleeve of my shirt shut for my arm, dull, unalloyed gold appeared, glowing briefly as it formed a shape, a new limb for me, once again. Winged designs matching my helm at the shoulder, a long arm matching my old one in length, armored and strong. And connected at my wrist? A long, curved blade, around which my hand was perpetually wrapped around. My arm swept to the side, sword held aloft behind me, and I stared straight into Lung's eyes. Weapon in hand, everything felt right in this moment, and I could speak these words with absolute surety.
"And I have never known defeat."
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And here's chapter 2, with both answers and, hopefully, more questions for you all! I might go back and edit some stuff in this, not completely happy, but this is also my first fanfic so I'd rather toss it to the wolves and see what I did wrong than stress over every detail! Let me know what you think, and I hope you all enjoy!
April 8th, 2011
Taylor Herbert
My life was, strictly speaking, not the greatest. Now, I'm sure you hear that and immediately want to say 'Oh no, honey, don't worry! It'll get better, surely it's not that bad!', right? Well, if you do say that, I just want to say that I will hurt you for saying that. Why am I so bitter, you might ask? Well, it's a lot of things. Too many things for a fifteen year old girl to have had to deal with. But they happened, and I'm the one left picking up the pieces of a life that is becoming increasingly….shattered.
It's easy to identify the point where everything went downhill for me. My mom died. The world took her away from me, in a moment of appalling stupidity at the hands of others, and she took my dad with her. Then my best friend, my sister in all but blood, ripped herself away from me. I still don't know why, and there was a point when I would have given anything to have that question answered. Even when she worked to destroy me, destroy my life, I still would have loved to know just why, if only because the answer might have made her actions hurt slightly less. But I couldn't bring myself to care about Emma, or Sophia, or Madison, or anything that had happened to me before January. Not anymore, anyway.
I couldn't help but sigh as I wheeled myself over to the window, trying to think more positively, like my physical therapist kept telling me to. It was tough, getting used to being sat down forever, and I understood why she told me to think like that. This was the state of the rest of my life, after all. But as I stared at the black/gold, rotten nubs where my legs used to be, and the empty space where my arm once hung from my body, I couldn't help but get angry. Indescribably, iridescently. If I hadn't developed a similar hatred for the color, I'd say my vision had gone red.
The authorities had called it a terror attack. They weren't sure who or why, beyond the fact that they were certain it was a Parahuman. They'd vowed to find the culprit, Armsmaster even personally swearing on live television that he would not rest until the perpetrator of such a monstrous act had been found, but it became harder and harder to find comfort in those words as the months stretched on with no word, as March passed and we entered April. I'd count February too if I hadn't been in a coma that entire month. Winslow still wasn't open, either, and Arcadia, and any other school for that matter, was clogged with transfers, so for the past few months I'd had nothing to do but get used to my new situation.
Now, the one thought that gave me solace was the idea of catching whoever caused this myself. I didn't care about the Trio anymore, anything they'd done to me couldn't compare to what this nameless, faceless Villain with a capital V had done to me. I didn't remember much from the day of the attack. My memory made it up to noon before it all cuts off in a brilliant flash of bright scarlet, and suddenly I'm in March when last I'd checked it was mid-January. But I did know exactly what had been done to me. My arm, eaten away by the rot all the way up to my shoulder. Both my legs, cut off at irregular portions. My only 'good' limb, only somewhat functional and hideous to look at, ravaged as it was by this scarlet rot, and every bit of my body affected had a tendency to burn with pain when I wasn't paying attention. A constant reminder of my loss. And lastly, the one silver lini-
"Hey, kiddo. How're you feeling today?" I was broken out of my anger fueled thoughts of the crimes against me and revenge fantasies about those crimes by the concerned, quiet voice of my father. I wheeled myself around a bit, back away from the window that I had totally not been gazing out solemnly, forcing a weak smile onto my face.
"I'm doing…doing just fine dad!" His expression shifted, for a moment, a mix of pensive and sad. It was clear to me that he didn't really believe me. It was also just as clear, after the last few weeks, that he wasn't going to say anything about it. Ever since I'd come back from the hospital, dad had become this annoying mix of doting and distant. When he was home from work and awake, he was constantly prepared to help me in any way, with getting in and out of my wheelchair, all the way to opening the fridge for me, as I struggled with even that, with my one arm as weak as it was thanks to the rot.. He'd already done so much for me, really, him, and the Dockworkers Union. When dad's work had heard about my condition, they'd all chipped in, and helped my dad purchase and install one of those expensive, moving electric chairs to help me get up and down the stairs, two wheelchairs, and a ramp on our front steps. Honestly, I should have been ecstatic. It almost seemed like I'd gotten my dad back.
Almost, anyway. Then there'd be moments like this, where he'd clearly want to say something to me, but not, thinking I'm too….too fragile. It made me want to rip my hair out even more than I already did. Going back to my dad, though, his pensive look disappeared quickly, and he was nodding and slipping away from me, disappearing into the house, unable to confront his daughter about her problems.
Maybe I was being too harsh. But I'm a deformed cripple who can barely function now, as far as he knows, couldn't go to school cause my only options were a biohazard that didn't have handicap accessibility anyway, and another which I'd yet to hear back from about transferring just yet. When he went out of his way to avoid me, unable to stay in my presence and speak to me for some reason, it hurt.
I shook my head wildly, trying my best to put my painfully strained relationship with my father out of my mind. Returning to my window gazing, my thoughts were fast to return to the event that had changed my life more than it had already been changing to begin with. There was one silver lining from all of it, though perhaps silver lining was the wrong term to use. It was the one thing resembling a positive that I'd come out of what the media had called the 'Scarlet Attack'. To some, it'd probably seem like fitting payback. To me, it just felt like a chance for revenge.
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Hours later, night had finally fallen on the city I called home. And as anybody who lived in Brockton Bay knew, the night was when the criminals that called this city home came crawling out. Drug dealers from the Merchants, swastika bearing racists of the E88, and gun toting Asians, backed by the power of Lung and the ABB, slipped onto the streets of Brockton Bay. They were like a rot upon this city, and if there's one thing I hated, it was rot. So as I counted the seconds since I'd heard my dad slip into his bedroom to go to sleep, knowing he'd collapse quickly, as he always did, I finally, finally, did what I'd been waiting to do all day, and stood up.
As the dull gold prosthetics formed upon my legs, I couldn't help but marvel at them, as I did every time I made them appear. Finely detailed, with intricate golden carvings, there were even toes, that I could somehow, magically wiggle! I didn't understand why my power made them look like this, and why I couldn't change it, but as I reveled in the novelty of standing, a luxury I'd never take for granted again, as I slowly dressed myself in my homemade outfit. It was a mix of fabrics, most of which had once been my mom's, that I'd turned into a long, almost tunic-like dress. It was able to hang low enough to cover up the scarring on my legs, light enough to not mess with my movement, and was a plain and simple beige thing, but it was the best I could do with what I had, and once I'd added a small red cape at the top, it had even started feeling right, if still a bit too dull and boring. To top it all off, my power gave me a beautiful golden helmet, golden wings standing up from a curved half helm, slants through the visor helping me see, the perfect thing to look good and still hide my identity. All at the price of turning my beloved hair an upsettingly bright scarlet. I could handle dull reds like my cape, but the scarlet of my hair reminded me too much of the attack that had left me so horribly crippled, and while I could admit it looked just as good red as it did black, I felt that I was allowed to still absolutely despise it.
A few more minutes of waiting, to make absolutely certain my dad was asleep, and fast as I could (which was pretty fast now), I was out my window, down onto the streets, and running. I was able to forget my troubles, for just a moment, as the wind whipped past my face as I ran, my metal feet light on the concrete as I moved in a way I could never have managed with my old legs. If I adored the fact I could stand thanks to my power, then I was in love with how it let me move. I doubted I'd beat Velocity in a race anytime soon, but anybody without a Mover rating? As I leaped up from the streets to the rooftops of the Bay, I knew they'd never catch me.
My sudden sprint ended about when I reached the Docks, the old Ship Graveyard looming in the distance, the metal hulks a continuously depressing sight in a city so sick with the rot of criminals. Despite the distance I'd traveled from my house, I wasn't even breathing heavy, instead feeling lighter than ever. No reminding pains from the remnants of the rot still lurking in my limbs. I was in a good mood, an incredibly good mood. It was a shame that Brockton Bay liked to ruin things like that.
"...the children, just shoot. Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"
My blood ran cold, the April chill seemingly intensifying as I stared at the scene below me. A group of gangbangers, gathered around a tall man covered in tattoos, a man no one in Brockton Bay hadn't heard of at one point or another in their lifetimes. The terror of the Protectorate, able to solo teams of heroes with ease, a giant rage dragon that left city blocks in ashes. I couldn't fight Lung. All my powers did was give me metal legs and run fast! I'd never even been in a fight! I'd die instantly, immediately. Then how would I ever get my revenge?
"But the children…" I didn't even realize it was my own voice speaking as I stared at the assembled group of men below me. The thought of children getting hurt made a part of me burn with anger, thoughts of the Winslow attack filling my mind. The last time someone had attacked children, I'd been left horribly scarred. I couldn't let it happen again. I couldn't….
"No, no, I'd just get myself killed. I…I'll just call the Protectorate…with my nonexistent cellphone…" But the children, those words echoed in my thoughts once more, and suddenly there was a flash. A memory crossed across my eyes. It was hard to tell who it was. Most of their features were obscured, besides their pale skin. I couldn't even necessarily tell if it was a girl or a boy. They were saying….something, words that I couldn't actually hear, yet felt in my bones. A sense of calm settled through my body, as my helmeted gaze turned back to the gathering of vagabonds and bandits on the ground, and without a second thought, I leapt down. My landing was quiet, despite my prosthetics and the distance I had fallen, though it was a moot point given I now stood right before the group. Before the Scarlet Attack, I'd been rather tall, especially for a girl, and I hadn't measured myself up to anyone yet, but now as I quite literally loomed at least a foot over everyone before me, even Lung, it clicked that I was now rather absurdly tall. It almost made me stumble, suddenly feeling a bit awkward over my newfound height, until that same calm, something I was quickly beginning to realize must be a Thinker aspect of my power, took hold once again.
"No children will be dying today. Not while I stand before you." I almost surprised myself at how….sure, I sounded, as I spoke, no quavering warble of fear in my voice as I stared down a group of armed gangsters and a literal man-dragon.
"The hell? Who are you, some weakling cripple hero? Must be new, if you're willing to threaten me. With one arm, too! Do you even know who you're talking to?" The muscular crimelord shook his head, his expression unreadable behind his mask, but he sounded both bored, and annoyed, to have had his hunt interrupted. "It doesn't matter, just shoot her first, before you kill those stupid brats."
My heart pounded in my chest at those words, as the barrels of guns turned towards me, and for a moment, I couldn't even think. So rather than do that, I moved. With a single bound I was flying through the hair, and a quick kick to the head with my metal leg brought down the first gangster of my hero career. There wasn't even a second before I was leaping through the air again, my knee crashing into the face of another thug before I was pushing off the ground again with my other leg, flipping over backwards to land behind another man before my leg crashed into his side, sending him flying across the lot. There were about twenty, twenty five gang members surrounding me, and in a handful of seconds I had just knocked out three of them with ease. I didn't even understand how, I just knew that I'd done it. Before I could fall further into questioning myself and my powers, though, I was interrupted by the sound of slow, sarcastic clapping.
"What a show! Maybe you aren't a weakling after all. Certainly stupid though. You've attacked my men, which means you've attacked the ABB. Which means you've attacked me! I have to kill you now. But I'll give you the honor of asking your name, so the gravestone has something more than just 'dumbass' on it! Who are you?"
Ever since I'd realized I had powers, I'd struggled with finding a name for myself. Some were taken, others felt dumb. And even now, there were words just on the tip of my tongue, a name, a title, an idea I wanted to say but had no idea what it could be. But now, in this moment, there was another name, the perfect words for this situation that rolled off my tongue so easily. Along with something else…
"I…am the hero, Valkyrie!" As I spoke, I shifted my body, and at my missing shoulder, where I'd sewn the sleeve of my shirt shut for my arm, dull, unalloyed gold appeared, glowing briefly as it formed a shape, a new limb for me, once again. Winged designs matching my helm at the shoulder, a long arm matching my old one in length, armored and strong. And connected at my wrist? A long, curved blade, around which my hand was perpetually wrapped around. My arm swept to the side, sword held aloft behind me, and I stared straight into Lung's eyes. Weapon in hand, everything felt right in this moment, and I could speak these words with absolute surety.
"And I have never known defeat."
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And here's chapter 2, with both answers and, hopefully, more questions for you all! I might go back and edit some stuff in this, not completely happy, but this is also my first fanfic so I'd rather toss it to the wolves and see what I did wrong than stress over every detail! Let me know what you think, and I hope you all enjoy!
Lung is a bit too... talkative for me.
I'm still very interested in this story, keep up the good work.
I'm still very interested in this story, keep up the good work.
- Pronouns
- SL
He really doesn't get much screen time in canon does he? I imagine anyone would be skeptical about a cripple coming to duke it out. The most memorable thing in canon I remember is his conversation during gold morning.
- Location
- Terra
That is still such a raw line even in text. Poor lung let's see how you like fighting the goddess of rot.
Side note Brockton bay is the new aeonia
Oof
Side note Brockton bay is the new aeonia
Oof
Rot 1.3
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Rot 1.3:
April 8th
Taylor Hebert
There were a lot of thoughts flying through my head, as the barechested mass murderer stared me down, after my proclamation. The vast, vast majority were along the lines of 'what the fuck what the fu-why did I say that?!?!'. Never known defeat my ass, of course I haven't, this is my first ever fight, which I am picking with a guy said to have one v one'd an Endbringer, and was still alive!
I should be shaking in my boots. I should be running the hell away. And so I was left even more baffled by my own actions as my body followed instincts I didn't even know I had, a flick of my wrist settling the blade in my newfound arm. Even frazzled by my own actions, I knew enough about Lung to know that I had to end this fast. His power worked on time, the longer a fight, the stronger he became, and I didn't trust the instincts being pushed into my brain by my power to think I actually had a chance to beat him if this went on for too long. So, I started approaching him, ready to leap forward and cut him down at a moment's notice.
Speaking of Lung, he was copying me, now, slowly walking forward. He hadn't responded to my statement, just a snort at my words, and I could feel in my gut he'd rolled his eyes at me. My eyes bounced across him, watching for a twitch of his limbs, an indication that he was about to attack me, when I finally noticed that, in just the few moments we'd been approaching each other, he'd grown a couple inches. His muscles seemed more pronounced, and as the seconds passed, I could tell he was growing bigger and bigger. I'd hoped there'd be a more visible sign of his power, that he'd have to accomplish some unclear condition before he started to ramp up, but it seemed the moment he'd acknowledged me as any kind of threat, he'd started growing.
I had to move fast, and with a quick, low leap I was before him. There was a click to my right, my arm releasing some hidden release at the motion of my wrist, and my sword, unrestrained, flashed three times, three quick slices across Lung's bare chest. Blood sprayed through the air, for a moment, and my opponent let out a garbled yowl of pain. Before I could press the attack, though, my eyes caught a flash of light, and it was only thanks to my superior speed that I was able to leap backwards, hopping twice, as Lung's fist, now burning with flame, slammed through the empty air where I had just stood.
"Arrogant little gnat, biting at her betters. Barely even a scratch." Despite his earlier sounds of pain, Lung showed little care for the cuts across his chest, and I could see why as I watched the open wounds begin to close before my very eyes. I barely bit off a curse as I watched. Not only did he get to turn into a dragon, but he could also heal? In that brief exchange, Lung's growth had quickly accelerated as well. He was already overtaking me in height now, widening too as his body's proportions started to shift away from anything human, and his skin was beginning to shine, armored scales appearing across his body as.
The ever growing behemoth then suddenly charged, barreling through the suburban clearing with surprising speed for his increasing size. Another quick leap, and I circled around him, my blade slicing cleanly through the flesh and armor of his side with ease as he passed me by, slamming into the building I'd been standing before with a resounding crash. Brick and mortar came tumbling to the ground as he smashed through structural supports, but it did little to slow Lung down as he stomped out of the wreckage, still growing, now with an extra dose of fire across his limbs. Which, of course, he was quick to form into a ball, forcing me to dodge away once again as it soared past me, waves of heat rolling over my back as it crashed down and exploded in a wave of fire.
If I didn't do something fast, he'd just keep going, and if he was already throwing around fire and smashing into buildings now, I didn't want to see what kind of damage he'd bring to the table if this wasn't over soon. He'd already shown he could heal. Maybe that meant I could be a bit rougher with him. I leapt into the air, angling my body, my wrist twitching once again as I locked my sword into position. The moment my feet touched against the ground, I was pushing off, rocketing forwards, my sword pointed forwards like the tip of a spear. I slammed into my target, piercing through Lung's bare elbow, severing tendons and bone as the long blade exited out the other end of his arm. Lung roared, a deep, guttural sound, the heat intensifying around me as his other hand reached out to grab me, but with another flick of my wrist my blade cut itself out of the temporary sheath I'd turned Lung's arm into, and I was hopping back once again. There was a meaty thump as Lung's upper arm fell to the floor, the few bits of muscle left unable to keep it attached, and the hand that had once been reaching out to crush me in his palm was instead holding onto his new stump, blood pouring between his fingers and leaking out onto his severed limb.
Reality suddenly caught up to me as I flicked Lung's blood off my sword, in a smooth, surprisingly easy motion, and I watched the man-dragon cradle his bloody stump and roar in agony. Did I really just do that? I just…cut off Lung's arm, like it was nothing. Lung's arm! Was…was sword fighting actually that easy? Or were my powers just making me that skilled? It felt so easy to do that to Lung, and that feeling filled me with newfound confidence that easily matched the artificial calm that had filled me earlier. Maybe I really could do this!
"Kll oo! Dd btch!" I was dragged away from my thoughts by the angry, garbled shouting of Lung. He was still getting taller, probably ten feet now. It felt strange, like he shouldn't be this tall by now. We hadn't been fighting for very long now, yet he was already looking like an inhuman monster, but at least, for now, it seemed like he was slowing down in his growth. Didn't help me much, though, as a ten foot tall wall of metal and muscle leaped through the air and crashed down beside me as I dodged to the side once again. He kept coming, though, his hands slamming into the ground as I was forced on the back foot. He was swinging and charging like a wild beast, raging at the loss of his arm even as I could see his wound extending, his power clearly working overtime to heal and replace the missing appendage. Leap after leap, I was able to stay just out of reach of Lung, but he had no openings, simply because he wouldn't stop.
I couldn't take the risk of taking a hit from him, either. I was fast, not durable, like him, and while tonight had clearly shown I didn't know everything about my power, what with the sudden arm-sword, I wasn't willing to test that out. And so, all I could do as he rampaged through the street was lead him on a merry chase, dodging past him and leaping away whenever he drew too close Lung slammed into walls and threw ball after ball of fire in his chase after me, and I was forced to let the villain accrue property damage as I waited for him to tire out. By the time that even started happening, the claw-like arm I'd removed earlier had mostly reformed, and I could tell that the moment he wasn't healing that, his growth would skyrocket just like it had been before, as he'd already gained a couple more inches, and his neck was starting to look a bit too inhuman for my tastes.
"Fuck, all I can do is jump around. I don't even know how I got his arm earlier!" I clenched the fist of my blackened arm as I once again leaped away from Lung. The calm from earlier had slipped away after I'd cut Lung's arm, and with it those instincts that had told me how to even manage such a feat. I called out in my head, searching for whatever part of my power had let me do that. What had triggered it? I remembered feeling indecisive, scared, then suddenly I wasn't, and I could cut off Lung's arm. Was that i-
"Gt oo! Crsh oo!" I was snapped out of my stupor as a shadow appeared above my head, Lung's bladed claw set to slam down upon me. I froze, staring up at the dragon man, heart slamming in my chest. I should've moved, still could've, but I was frozen, as the mistakes of this night, of letting my power guide me and challenging Lung, felt like they were suddenly catching up to me. I closed my eyes, lifting my bad arm up in a futile, panicked attempt to protect myself, when I suddenly heard Lung howl in pain once again. My eyes flew open, and I realized, without thinking of it myself, my body had moved, and I now stood behind Lung, a deep gash across his side to match the one I'd given him earlier, blood drooling from the open wound and pooling onto the sidewalk.
"Wh…what the…" It clicked for me then, just how my power must work. It was all instincts, and I just had to relax, and let my body move in motions it clearly knew, which I had never done before. My heartbeat slowed, the calm slipping over me once again as I figured out how to call upon these strange skills, and I was moving just as I had before, no, moving even faster, with more skill. When Lung twisted around, trying to grab me, instead of dodging away, I ducked through his swipe, and cut him. He roared, flames pouring from his maw suddenly, and I was sprinting through it, the edge of my blade slicing through his outstretched neck, cutting off the stream of heat quite literally. I didn't think, didn't let myself think. That had been what had cut off this power before. I couldn't let that happen again. So I kept cutting and dodging around Lung, gashes in his flesh quickly multiplying as I easily avoided his large, clumsy attacks.
He was still growing, however, an easy fifteen feet, spikes of metal appearing on his back as he fully arrived at the draconic appearance that had earned him the title of rage dragon. Even as I kept creating new wounds, old ones were closing just as I did so. I needed something to fully finish this, before Lung could grow any larger than he already was.
'Power? Uh, thing that makes me a master swordswoman? I need to end this, right now!' I felt silly, trying to talk to my superpower, but it seemed to work as I dashed away from Lung. I could feel it in my bones, my body was about to do something. I wasn't at all prepared for just what that would be, though. I leapt up, and for a moment, the world slowed down as I hung in the air for a second, two, and then…then I was dancing. My blade flashed through the air faster than I could fully keep track of it, each swipe of my hand carving deep into Lung. Shockwaves from my sword surrounded us like a bubble as I tore through Lung. He stumbled, howling, trying to back away from my onslaught, but I kept on him, making sure each swing of my sword hit as I cut through his chest, then his limbs, his muscles, his bones. Every movement of my sword cut deep, and blood flowed through the air, uncaring for metal scales and tough flesh as my dance continued. By the time my movements slowed, Lung was a legless, armless torso with a neck far too large, sputtering as he bled from far too many points on his body, his power struggling to heal him of so many deep wounds, and the mound of flesh was tossed aside by one final burst of air, a remnant of my dance. He was shrinking, finally, needing everything he had to regain all of his limbs, and keep him alive.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and felt my body go slack as exhaustion finally hit, the first time I'd felt such a thing since I'd gained my powers. As I stared at the mutilated, barely breathing crime lord, I couldn't help but shake a little. I did that. I carved the scariest bastard in Brockton Bay into mincemeat, and all I did was break a sweat. When I'd first realized I had powers, I was grateful, who wouldn't be when they now had a chance to walk, but my expectations had been low. Now, though, all my hopes were in my grasp. If I could defeat Lung, I could definitely beat whoever was behind the attack. I could get my revenge, with ease, even!
I could actually be a hero. I stared down at my golden hand, sword still attached, and I couldn't help but shake my head in amazement. I'd gone out here tonight unaware of what I was truly capable of, but now I knew. I was strong, fast, and skilled. My power let me become an unbeatable warrior. I could cry, I was so happy, and I almost did, before the sounds of a motorcycle reached my ears. I shook myself, pushing my emotions away, to be dealt with later. Once Lung had started really smashing everything around us, I'd figured someone would call the authorities eventually, and my suspicions were confirmed as I watched the armored form of one of my favorite childhood heroes, Armsmaster, roll up on his motorcycle. His gaze, mostly hidden by his helmet, similar to my own actually, was on the butchered but thankfully still breathing form of Lung, for a moment, before his attention was fully on me. I could almost squeal.
It was time to meet my hero, or one of them, and incredibly, with my accomplishments tonight, I was definitely one as well!
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I hope you all enjoy my first attempt at writing a fight scene! It was fun imagining Talenia fighting Lung, but I did find it a challenge to get those images and ideas into word form. Feel free to let me know your thoughts, how it could be improved, etc!
April 8th
Taylor Hebert
There were a lot of thoughts flying through my head, as the barechested mass murderer stared me down, after my proclamation. The vast, vast majority were along the lines of 'what the fuck what the fu-why did I say that?!?!'. Never known defeat my ass, of course I haven't, this is my first ever fight, which I am picking with a guy said to have one v one'd an Endbringer, and was still alive!
I should be shaking in my boots. I should be running the hell away. And so I was left even more baffled by my own actions as my body followed instincts I didn't even know I had, a flick of my wrist settling the blade in my newfound arm. Even frazzled by my own actions, I knew enough about Lung to know that I had to end this fast. His power worked on time, the longer a fight, the stronger he became, and I didn't trust the instincts being pushed into my brain by my power to think I actually had a chance to beat him if this went on for too long. So, I started approaching him, ready to leap forward and cut him down at a moment's notice.
Speaking of Lung, he was copying me, now, slowly walking forward. He hadn't responded to my statement, just a snort at my words, and I could feel in my gut he'd rolled his eyes at me. My eyes bounced across him, watching for a twitch of his limbs, an indication that he was about to attack me, when I finally noticed that, in just the few moments we'd been approaching each other, he'd grown a couple inches. His muscles seemed more pronounced, and as the seconds passed, I could tell he was growing bigger and bigger. I'd hoped there'd be a more visible sign of his power, that he'd have to accomplish some unclear condition before he started to ramp up, but it seemed the moment he'd acknowledged me as any kind of threat, he'd started growing.
I had to move fast, and with a quick, low leap I was before him. There was a click to my right, my arm releasing some hidden release at the motion of my wrist, and my sword, unrestrained, flashed three times, three quick slices across Lung's bare chest. Blood sprayed through the air, for a moment, and my opponent let out a garbled yowl of pain. Before I could press the attack, though, my eyes caught a flash of light, and it was only thanks to my superior speed that I was able to leap backwards, hopping twice, as Lung's fist, now burning with flame, slammed through the empty air where I had just stood.
"Arrogant little gnat, biting at her betters. Barely even a scratch." Despite his earlier sounds of pain, Lung showed little care for the cuts across his chest, and I could see why as I watched the open wounds begin to close before my very eyes. I barely bit off a curse as I watched. Not only did he get to turn into a dragon, but he could also heal? In that brief exchange, Lung's growth had quickly accelerated as well. He was already overtaking me in height now, widening too as his body's proportions started to shift away from anything human, and his skin was beginning to shine, armored scales appearing across his body as.
The ever growing behemoth then suddenly charged, barreling through the suburban clearing with surprising speed for his increasing size. Another quick leap, and I circled around him, my blade slicing cleanly through the flesh and armor of his side with ease as he passed me by, slamming into the building I'd been standing before with a resounding crash. Brick and mortar came tumbling to the ground as he smashed through structural supports, but it did little to slow Lung down as he stomped out of the wreckage, still growing, now with an extra dose of fire across his limbs. Which, of course, he was quick to form into a ball, forcing me to dodge away once again as it soared past me, waves of heat rolling over my back as it crashed down and exploded in a wave of fire.
If I didn't do something fast, he'd just keep going, and if he was already throwing around fire and smashing into buildings now, I didn't want to see what kind of damage he'd bring to the table if this wasn't over soon. He'd already shown he could heal. Maybe that meant I could be a bit rougher with him. I leapt into the air, angling my body, my wrist twitching once again as I locked my sword into position. The moment my feet touched against the ground, I was pushing off, rocketing forwards, my sword pointed forwards like the tip of a spear. I slammed into my target, piercing through Lung's bare elbow, severing tendons and bone as the long blade exited out the other end of his arm. Lung roared, a deep, guttural sound, the heat intensifying around me as his other hand reached out to grab me, but with another flick of my wrist my blade cut itself out of the temporary sheath I'd turned Lung's arm into, and I was hopping back once again. There was a meaty thump as Lung's upper arm fell to the floor, the few bits of muscle left unable to keep it attached, and the hand that had once been reaching out to crush me in his palm was instead holding onto his new stump, blood pouring between his fingers and leaking out onto his severed limb.
Reality suddenly caught up to me as I flicked Lung's blood off my sword, in a smooth, surprisingly easy motion, and I watched the man-dragon cradle his bloody stump and roar in agony. Did I really just do that? I just…cut off Lung's arm, like it was nothing. Lung's arm! Was…was sword fighting actually that easy? Or were my powers just making me that skilled? It felt so easy to do that to Lung, and that feeling filled me with newfound confidence that easily matched the artificial calm that had filled me earlier. Maybe I really could do this!
"Kll oo! Dd btch!" I was dragged away from my thoughts by the angry, garbled shouting of Lung. He was still getting taller, probably ten feet now. It felt strange, like he shouldn't be this tall by now. We hadn't been fighting for very long now, yet he was already looking like an inhuman monster, but at least, for now, it seemed like he was slowing down in his growth. Didn't help me much, though, as a ten foot tall wall of metal and muscle leaped through the air and crashed down beside me as I dodged to the side once again. He kept coming, though, his hands slamming into the ground as I was forced on the back foot. He was swinging and charging like a wild beast, raging at the loss of his arm even as I could see his wound extending, his power clearly working overtime to heal and replace the missing appendage. Leap after leap, I was able to stay just out of reach of Lung, but he had no openings, simply because he wouldn't stop.
I couldn't take the risk of taking a hit from him, either. I was fast, not durable, like him, and while tonight had clearly shown I didn't know everything about my power, what with the sudden arm-sword, I wasn't willing to test that out. And so, all I could do as he rampaged through the street was lead him on a merry chase, dodging past him and leaping away whenever he drew too close Lung slammed into walls and threw ball after ball of fire in his chase after me, and I was forced to let the villain accrue property damage as I waited for him to tire out. By the time that even started happening, the claw-like arm I'd removed earlier had mostly reformed, and I could tell that the moment he wasn't healing that, his growth would skyrocket just like it had been before, as he'd already gained a couple more inches, and his neck was starting to look a bit too inhuman for my tastes.
"Fuck, all I can do is jump around. I don't even know how I got his arm earlier!" I clenched the fist of my blackened arm as I once again leaped away from Lung. The calm from earlier had slipped away after I'd cut Lung's arm, and with it those instincts that had told me how to even manage such a feat. I called out in my head, searching for whatever part of my power had let me do that. What had triggered it? I remembered feeling indecisive, scared, then suddenly I wasn't, and I could cut off Lung's arm. Was that i-
"Gt oo! Crsh oo!" I was snapped out of my stupor as a shadow appeared above my head, Lung's bladed claw set to slam down upon me. I froze, staring up at the dragon man, heart slamming in my chest. I should've moved, still could've, but I was frozen, as the mistakes of this night, of letting my power guide me and challenging Lung, felt like they were suddenly catching up to me. I closed my eyes, lifting my bad arm up in a futile, panicked attempt to protect myself, when I suddenly heard Lung howl in pain once again. My eyes flew open, and I realized, without thinking of it myself, my body had moved, and I now stood behind Lung, a deep gash across his side to match the one I'd given him earlier, blood drooling from the open wound and pooling onto the sidewalk.
"Wh…what the…" It clicked for me then, just how my power must work. It was all instincts, and I just had to relax, and let my body move in motions it clearly knew, which I had never done before. My heartbeat slowed, the calm slipping over me once again as I figured out how to call upon these strange skills, and I was moving just as I had before, no, moving even faster, with more skill. When Lung twisted around, trying to grab me, instead of dodging away, I ducked through his swipe, and cut him. He roared, flames pouring from his maw suddenly, and I was sprinting through it, the edge of my blade slicing through his outstretched neck, cutting off the stream of heat quite literally. I didn't think, didn't let myself think. That had been what had cut off this power before. I couldn't let that happen again. So I kept cutting and dodging around Lung, gashes in his flesh quickly multiplying as I easily avoided his large, clumsy attacks.
He was still growing, however, an easy fifteen feet, spikes of metal appearing on his back as he fully arrived at the draconic appearance that had earned him the title of rage dragon. Even as I kept creating new wounds, old ones were closing just as I did so. I needed something to fully finish this, before Lung could grow any larger than he already was.
'Power? Uh, thing that makes me a master swordswoman? I need to end this, right now!' I felt silly, trying to talk to my superpower, but it seemed to work as I dashed away from Lung. I could feel it in my bones, my body was about to do something. I wasn't at all prepared for just what that would be, though. I leapt up, and for a moment, the world slowed down as I hung in the air for a second, two, and then…then I was dancing. My blade flashed through the air faster than I could fully keep track of it, each swipe of my hand carving deep into Lung. Shockwaves from my sword surrounded us like a bubble as I tore through Lung. He stumbled, howling, trying to back away from my onslaught, but I kept on him, making sure each swing of my sword hit as I cut through his chest, then his limbs, his muscles, his bones. Every movement of my sword cut deep, and blood flowed through the air, uncaring for metal scales and tough flesh as my dance continued. By the time my movements slowed, Lung was a legless, armless torso with a neck far too large, sputtering as he bled from far too many points on his body, his power struggling to heal him of so many deep wounds, and the mound of flesh was tossed aside by one final burst of air, a remnant of my dance. He was shrinking, finally, needing everything he had to regain all of his limbs, and keep him alive.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and felt my body go slack as exhaustion finally hit, the first time I'd felt such a thing since I'd gained my powers. As I stared at the mutilated, barely breathing crime lord, I couldn't help but shake a little. I did that. I carved the scariest bastard in Brockton Bay into mincemeat, and all I did was break a sweat. When I'd first realized I had powers, I was grateful, who wouldn't be when they now had a chance to walk, but my expectations had been low. Now, though, all my hopes were in my grasp. If I could defeat Lung, I could definitely beat whoever was behind the attack. I could get my revenge, with ease, even!
I could actually be a hero. I stared down at my golden hand, sword still attached, and I couldn't help but shake my head in amazement. I'd gone out here tonight unaware of what I was truly capable of, but now I knew. I was strong, fast, and skilled. My power let me become an unbeatable warrior. I could cry, I was so happy, and I almost did, before the sounds of a motorcycle reached my ears. I shook myself, pushing my emotions away, to be dealt with later. Once Lung had started really smashing everything around us, I'd figured someone would call the authorities eventually, and my suspicions were confirmed as I watched the armored form of one of my favorite childhood heroes, Armsmaster, roll up on his motorcycle. His gaze, mostly hidden by his helmet, similar to my own actually, was on the butchered but thankfully still breathing form of Lung, for a moment, before his attention was fully on me. I could almost squeal.
It was time to meet my hero, or one of them, and incredibly, with my accomplishments tonight, I was definitely one as well!
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I hope you all enjoy my first attempt at writing a fight scene! It was fun imagining Talenia fighting Lung, but I did find it a challenge to get those images and ideas into word form. Feel free to let me know your thoughts, how it could be improved, etc!
verycoolname
Not actually cool
I think it would be more a matter of ignoring most wounds until the 'HP bar' empties and rapid regeneration when the 'HP' is refilled. Although it could be that the Tarnished and his opponents have such a high pain threshold and are so used to moving and fighting while injured that it counts as a brute power. Or, you know, another brute power aside from the actual brute power they got from snorting shards of the Elden Ring.
- Location
- Wisconsin
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Can't wait for Armsmaster to shove his foot in his mouth about Taylor calling herself Valkyrie and challenging Lung on her first appearance, one might assume she's with the Empire. Hah!
Oh God yeah that can be a way the next chapter can definitely go. Or one of his sensors that is on the lookout for scarlet rot pings off of Valkyrie and conflict! Also if her prosthetics are quite obvious then she's going to get found out pretty quickly. Probably not many black haired, 1 limbed, females in Brockton Bay.
Slight issue with that. Taylor's power contains a Changer component that turns her into Malenia. This includes a rather drastic height increase and her hair turning red.
Ah reading again you're totally right I missed that. Good, wouldn't want her to get outed too early.
Ibuki Suika
Drunken Oni
- Location
- Australia
Thank you, I have been so hooked on ER, was waiting for something like this.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It isn't as drastic as a full change into Malenia. Just her hair turning red, and she is actually no where near Malenia's supposed height! If you look at her in the game and compare her to the other humans and Tarnished, she's actually estimated to be around 10 feet tall! Taylor here is a mere 7 ft, just an extra foot and a bit from her previous height before the Rot.
A fair point, but the change is drastic enough to throw off anyone trying to find out Taylor's identity, seeing as the only visual similarity Taylor and Valkyrie share is that they've lost three limbs to Scarlet Rot, and I highly doubt Taylor was to only female student to lose those three limbs.
- Location
- America
just like to bring this up, but it seems to me that the Scarlet Rot def ain't something a biotinker cooked up, and I'm pretty sure it was caused by a certain someone deciding to hitch a ride in Taylor's head.