thewatchers: Headmistress (Mila Duchene)
The Watchers of Night ([personal profile] thewatchers) wrote in [community profile] daybreakacademy2021-02-28 07:02 am

[Fourth Wall Finale] Night: Fall


[Fourth Wall Finale] Night: Fall
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As the sun goes down on the day of February 28th, the darkness begins to swarm in earnest around the place where the final Herald will emerge - the shores of a dark and polluted sea in the Outlands. Clouds of choking, magical ash roll over the sky to replace the clouds, casting the battlefield into an eerie crimson twilight. Dark smoke boils over the landscape, and the jeering, howling cries of those who would bring on Nightfall can be heard as they amass for their final battle.

Yet, still, the cacophony of the opposition is nothing compared to their silence as a vast shape rises from the water and flares its wings, blotting out the sunlight with its mere presence.

The last Herald of Night, the great primordial dragon Suneater, has arrived. Its only aim is to devour the sun - and crush anything that tries to get in its way.

A comparatively small shape, bubbled in a shining rainbow barrier and casting rays of light down on allied fighters, floats expectantly on the field. The former Herald Iriceli calls out to those who would do battle with Suneater directly:

“Come on! I’ll protect you!”

The battle with Suneater will be conducted in a single long thread, which will have its own toplevel. Abilities directly relevant to those engaging the boss in close combat will be put there.

A. Daybreak’s Moving Castle
While the Academy has many tricks up its sleeves to be deployed in time of need, this one may be the most powerful - and most secret - of all. After everyone is assembled or evacuated as necessary, the staff and students who specialize in artificer work come together in the courtyard, in front of the clear, cold waters of the massive pond known as the Cross of Life.

Headmistress Duchene looks over to the lead among the artificers. She meets her eyes, nods silently, and holds out her hands. The artificer quickly, carefully nicks both of the Headmisstress’ palms with a ritual knife, and steps back as Mila Duchene turns around and steps onto the ice. The frozen pond melts where her blood touches it, and she steps smoothly from ice into cold water, walking forward until she reaches the fountain in the center and grasps it with both hands.

And then the night lights up.

Someone watching from above might see the lines of light moving from water to stone, the very architecture of the Academy itself beginning to rise up and rearrange, and realize: the entire campus is a ritual circle.

Some schools were built for experimentation, for pushing the limits of the accepted. Some schools were built for preservation, passing on hallowed traditions. But Daybreak Academy was built for this night, and ever since the first stones were laid on the campus grounds, it has been storing sunlight, storing power, keeping it for this:

The main buildings of Daybreak itself have been temporarily transmuted from their normal forms into a giant, winged robot.

It radiates stored sunlight in a wide area around itself as it moves through the chaotic battlefield, providing something of a reprieve from the smoke that Suneater constantly spews.

From here, combatants and non-combatants alike can deploy and regroup as needed. The main medical facility and the Academy’s extensive defense systems and armory are all fully operational.

Tasks involving the base of operations include, but are not limited to:
- Aiding medical staff (retrieving incapacitated combatants, fetching supplies, healing or conventional first aid)
- Manning defensive weaponry such as gargoyle cannons and long-range turrets to shoot down attackers aiming to destroy or disable parts of the Academy
- Monitoring and communicating with others on the battlefield itself
- Defending the Academy from enemy intrusions

B. Battlefield
As expected, the fight itself is chaos. Suneater itself may have little to do with its far smaller followers, but everything from Outlands human cults to daemons and fae have shown up on the side of Nightfall, and they give - and expect - no mercy or quarter. While some are merely taking advantage of the assembly to try and snatch those on Daybreak’s side who they’ve taken an interest in for one reason or another, others are far more vicious and terrifying.

We encourage players to create their own specialised foes as needed, but as a rule of thumb, the caliber of these enemies can range from anywhere to mobs of low-level minions to solitary figures with exceptional combat ability. Not all enemies are focused on combat; many are focused on sabotage, distraction, and creating other troublesome effects like traps and illusions.

To make things worse, Suneater’s other gift is rolling out in force. Wherever the miasma it breathes and exudes from its very pores touches, combatants - friend and foe alike - are struck with hallucinatory visions, a sense of profound exhaustion and a bone-chilling cold. Regenerative abilities, shields, healing magic, and natural or supernatural protective gear can aid in combating these effects, but as long as the smoke exists, there will be difficulty in the fight ahead.

Those afflicted by the hallucinatory properties of Suneater’s miasma may see both enemies and friends as figures from their pasts, their present, their nightmares, or even manifestations of their fears, or any other number of things. We leave it up to player discretion as to the strength and nature of these visions, should you choose to use them in your threads.

Tasks involving the battlefield include, but are not limited to:
- Fighting (anything from simple clashes to sneak attacks behind enemy ranks)
- Rescuing or aiding injured or ailing combatants; supplying them with masks, first aid or protective gear as required
- Maintaining and protecting set miasma-free zones with magical lamps and other items

C. Wildcard
Battle is fierce, and enemies are, now more than ever before, inclined to show no quarter. And even in the relative safety of the Academy, the sounds of heated combat can be heard clearly.
This prompt is for anything still finale-related that doesn’t fit into the above categories. Please feel free to use this log to play out your own confrontations!
arcadianvampire: (Dark Profile)

[personal profile] arcadianvampire 2021-02-28 07:16 pm (UTC)(link)
The daemon looked at the needles and fluids inside them. He was unsure if such implements would actually work on a newly empowered version of himself, but he placed his faith in Ekkehardt's professionalism and knowledge. He was a man who did his homework. Prepared. And was always used to taking on threats that might be stronger. And throughout all of this, he still existed, still carried on, more successful than most. Even if Valvatorez had unease about himself... there was none in his friend, and he pushed away the nagging concerns in favor of trust.

"Thank you, my friend. I know that I have essentially asked you to move the world in case this goes wrong. And something that might come at personal injury in more ways than one. The gravity of this isn't lost on me. ...So thank you. For everything."

Removing the stopper from the blood bag, he held it closer to his mouth, the smell of the blood causing his nostrils to flare up.

"...Be ready to act fast. If things go wrong, my Tyrant self will not give you a second chance."
spelleton: (☀ so peel away the bark)

[personal profile] spelleton 2021-02-28 07:33 pm (UTC)(link)
He empties one of the vials to fill the needle and sets the case aside.

"I wish I could tell you something so reassuring as 'I believe in your strength of will', but I try not to lie to my friends." His voice and gaze goes beyond calm; there's a kind of emptiness in it, a glimpse of Ekkehardt the assassin rather than the teacher and doctor, Valvatorez's colleague.

"And if you believed it - or if simple words could make it so that you did - then you wouldn't need any of us here."

He smiles. The smile doesn't reach his eyes like it usually does - that feeling of absence persists - but it's a gesture of good will all the same.

"It's been a pleasure. Good luck."
arcadianvampire: (Predator)

[personal profile] arcadianvampire 2021-02-28 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
The distance in Ekkehardt's eyes, that cool, composed, detached gaze actually served to be oddly reassuring in itself. That was the look of a man who would do whatever it took to accomplish his mission, dirty or not. And that was exactly what he needed to see right now.

"I appreciate that honesty. ...A vampire's hunger goes beyond mere instinct. I know it well... and even if I have largely mastered myself through starvation, feeding again is a new experience. But the time to dwell is past."

With that, he steeled himself, and raised the bag to his lips, and gave it a squeeze.

The instant the blood touched his tongue, his eyes widened, his red eyes contracting in shock. He nearly recoiled from it, but committed to the act. On one hand... it tasted awful, having long since weaned himself off the stuff, and that it had been frozen, preserved, and that it was old. But on the other, the vitae still within made every synapse in his mind flare in hunger and joy. It felt like an eternity for Valvatorez, even though he drained the bag in a matter of seconds, before reaching for another.

Into the second bag, the first started kicking in, dark, foreboding energy swirling around him. The pressure it put out was unreal, perhaps even rivaling that of a Herald. Darkness, darker than pitch and a moonless night, swirled around the vampire as primal noises escaped from him, while his throat filled with blood. Soon Valvatorez all but disappeared from sight, the grunts soon growing into a haunting, low scream of exertion.

Power. Raw power. It surged through every fiber, and he could feel his body warp with it. The darkest parts of his soul cried out for more. More blood. More Power. Don't stop now, take everything you can. The base instincts of a predator. They screamed at him, banshees in the darkest pits.

A third bag drained.

Through all the noise, he kept himself focused. Memories of everyone. Artina. Emizel. Fenrich. Hugo. Simon and Richter Belmont. King Arthur. The countless students he trained. His dear, precious friends now, Ekkehardt, Avery, Urtz, Jailbreak, Hector, Ky, Kokoro, Desidera, Christo, Rex, Desco, Bowser, Mario, Manfred, and so many countless more. He pictured their faces, flawed as his memories might be in this state.

At the end of the fourth bag, there was another unholy shout, as a figure, taller, broader than Valvatorez normally was finally stood up. The darkness around him slowly faded, his head lilted back, face toward the sky with his eyes closed. He said nothing, but the transformation was complete. Valvatorez's hair longer, tied back, his clothing much more archaic, and traditionally "vampire," more suited for the cutting edge of fashion in the 1600s rather than the present.
spelleton: ready for (☀ i'm ready now)

[personal profile] spelleton 2021-02-28 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
It's a rare thing, to be able to see a vampire of any kind - even an unusual one like Valvatorez - feed after so long without. On a purely clinical level, the transformation's sheer pressure is interesting.

Whatever he feels, he keeps it to himself; his job isn't to offer opinions, but to simply wait for the outcome and act accordingly, without hesitation.

When it looks like Valvatorez isn't about to spring into action and start killing everything in sight, he relaxes ever so slightly.

"Well, then. How are you feeling?"
arcadianvampire: (Tyrant's Gaze)

[personal profile] arcadianvampire 2021-02-28 11:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Finally, his eyes open, slowly, the red-hot fury of his instincts finally bubbling back down to a controllable level. Senses regained, he felt something he hadn't truly felt in hundreds of years. ...Satiation. It was a strange feeling. Foreign. Almost unwelcome. But as he could feel power immeasurable flow through his cursed blood, through every muscle, every nerve... he understood that it was done.

"Like I could tear the Suneater's head off with my bare hands."

He balled one of his hands into a fist, dark lightning crackling from his entire arm inadvertently.

"...Also, miserable. Getting that much taller so suddenly is rough on the bones." Is it a joke? ...Maybe half a joke. "But it's nothing. I'll manage just fine."

He walked closer to Ekkehardt, the earth itself almost trembling beneath his weight and presence.

"So... what do you think, now that you finally have a chance to see it in person?"
spelleton: come rushing over me (☀ let the memory of rushing tide)

[personal profile] spelleton 2021-03-01 12:06 am (UTC)(link)
Every instinct he still possesses is on edge. An assassin's job is to evaluate the threats in their vicinity, and like this, Valvatorez is without doubt one of the most dangerous things he's encountered in his line of work. Up close, even without the unconscious bodily signs of human stress to sense, Valvatorez will likely still be able to tell that Ekkehardt is tensed - but like a bowstring about to release, a rival predator about to pounce, rather than prey frozen in the act of fleeing or of shock.

It's the fact that he's still thinking mostly like an assassin rather than as a normal person that saves him from saying something incredibly embarrassing in response to the daemon's question.

"Impressed. And terrified." Despite those words, his voice is steady, and he even cracks a smile that's more honest than the last. "It's not often I get to see a living legend at full power, but I suppose I can mark off that milestone now. If I still had a heart, you might be giving me a conniption right about now."
arcadianvampire: (Handsome Tyrant)

[personal profile] arcadianvampire 2021-03-02 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Ekkehardt being coiled up like a compressed spring wasn't much of a surprise. He was used to seeing that look when people looked upon him hundreds of years ago. It was a very familiar and gratifying sort of moment, a point of pride that even four hundred years of being without it, that he still had that effect on people. Including people he knew very well. Even if he knew Ekkehardt's instinct might be to spring and to kill him on the spot, that in and of itself was not a point of distrust, but a point of pride that he could invoke that.

"I can practically smell the adrenaline on you, even if you no longer have any," The Tyrant laughed, but it was a mirthful, genuine one, followed by a smile. "To think, I could shake even someone as unflappable as you. Maybe I can still do the whole King of Fear thing as a side gig after all this is over, like you said."

The Tyrant reached up and adjusted the fittings on his cape, and straightened his collar. Seems the transformation had knocked some of his look slightly out of place.

"Though I do not believe I will keep this form forever after this. Imposing and powerful as this one is, I rather grew to like my usual look."