An Army For Newman

Blood of Romulaska
Level 17
HP: 450/450
MP: 10/10
Str 29 Agi 30 End 40 Int 6 Wis 6 Cha 2 Lib 0
Status Effects: Starving, Thirsty
Qualities: Bloody Reproduction
A fiend born from alchemy and Hell, a Blood Of Romulaska will, upon ****, birth two new, fully grown Bloods of Romulaska from its corpse. It otherwise has no real identity or personality beyond a vicious disposition and a suicidal tendency when it finds itself short on victims.

John shut the prison door without a second glance. The creature, glassy-eyed and despondent in the corner of a cell divided by a glass wall, seemed strong enough to be of some use if it hadn’t so clearly been more trouble than it would be worth for John to try and brand it as a recruit. John eyed the cameras he shattered with the magisteel now coiled around his left arm and wondered how long he actually had to manage his escape at this point. He looked down at his new outfit, crafted together from all the armor, robes, and magical **** devices found on the **** Order goons: a mesh of small steel plates on leather armor that covered his arms and torso, a set of velvety blue pants, and steel-tipped boots.

Vagabond's Hasty Guard: magical armor. Torso and arms armor that grants +10DR to all physical damage and +5DR to all other damage. These damage resistances can be tripled for one minute but will then be reduced to zero for one hour. Wearer gains +5% crit chance.

Heretic Pants: magical leggings. Wearer gains +3 AGI and, once per minute, one extra move action.

Sturdy Boots of Toughness: magical boots. Resilient to wear and tear and self-repairing. Wearer gains +50 temporary HP that takes damage first and regenerates at a rate of one per minute.

He felt better about his equipment, this time, and they wouldn’t see that coming, at least… but what could they track without the cameras? Did they know he was opening cells? Could they figure out why? He had to hope it wouldn't matter.

Fairy, are you still alright?

<Naturally, but some... unknowns just slipped out and towards your location. Not sure what they are; more of these dime-a-dozen mages, likely. I'll chase after them once I'm sure these buffoons don't see me do it and realize they can leave.>

Alysha, status.

<We have been met by the Lord of this meager castle. He seems intent on stopping us.>

John’s eyes went wide. Alysha, get away from him!

<He is very-!> Her thoughts cut off, and John dashed to the next door as anger boiled inside him.

A promising, muscular beast bound to a mesh of bindings and a humming machine waited inside. The restraints were thrice what they laid over John, but even then he saw enough of the creature’s pale green flesh to appreciate how large the monster was. The malformed, almost-human face looked down upon him.

Durr the Wise (CAPTURABLE)
Level 22 Sorcerer
HP: 2,010/2,010
MP: 0/623
Str 79 Agi 16 End 70 Int 20 Wis 19 Cha 2 Lib 28
Status Effects: None
Qualities: Dimensional Anchor, Heaven-Blooded
An ogre mage born from his overlord father’s union with a half-angel champion who failed her mission. Durr the Wise bears insight and genius unheard of from among his people and rose to power when his father finally fell to age. Durr is an amateur alchemist and engineer, but his destructive magic earned him another title: Durr the Suffocator. Captured by curious Order Confessors in the late 90’s, he has been the Order’s guest ever since.

“You are not of Order,” came a sound more gravel than voice from the restrained giant, but the slightly broken English surprised John who walked closer for a better look. The beast would stand 13 feet tall if allowed, and his body was obviously stretched against some natural, inward curve his spine produced. The creature simply did not grow hair, it seemed: his pits, head, brows, and body were totally bereft of anything like hair, though his brow was heavy with additional fatty tissue or muscles that gave him his sloped forehead. Wide, muscular arms spoke of the kind of strength John needed. The creature was nude save for an oversized Vow Keeper, and keloid scarification drew old and sharp-edged patterns in his limbs and body.

So quarter-angels are a thing… and they don’t smell much better than non-angels. “You’re right,” John spat as he hovered a hand over the creature’s thigh, “but I don’t have time to break it down for you.”

The monster’s eyes barely registered interest; the last 20 years should have all been his last. His body shone with purple light as the new symbol appeared on his oddly hairless flesh.

You’ve captured Durr the Wise, but he was kept from being returned to your Temple!

John let himself breathe evenly; heavenly or not, this monster was his just the same. He quickly began to disconnect the wires keeping the ogre bound. Durr blinked slowly as he tried to gauge what was occurring, but John instructed him telepathically as he worked the panel on the back and released his new servant.

“Then... I have lost all freedom, even that inside my own mind,” Durr whispered.

John sighed long and slow. “Yeah, I know it probably seems- whatever. I don't have time to talk moral conundrums with Shrek, and we’re both dead if we stick around here. Cooperate, and you’ll find that I’m probably still the better option.” John did not bother with a greeting beyond that; they were out of time.

Durr stood near to his full height; wrinkled dome of his bald head touched the ceiling. “Humans are horrible things.”

“Yeah, they are.”

Durr had his orders and, after surprising Galley, got to work with his muscles where he couldn’t with his magic: moving the massive stones and chucking them down the hall behind them.

The next door revealed a slender young woman without a head.

Regan Sheogue O’Sullivan (CAPTURABLE)
Level 5 Student
HP: 65/65
MP: 39/39
Stats: Str 12 Agi 12 End 14 Int 14 Wis 11 Cha 18 Lib 14
Status Effects: Sleeping
Qualities: Dullahan, Disconnection Fatigue (4 years)
Despite being a Dullahan, Regan has never dabbled in **** magic and has never found any non-mythological information about her crypto-hominid nature. Home schooled for most of her life by people who, before her birth, never knew magic existed, she lost track of her body after risking a trip into the outside world when she was 14. Though her parents were lucky to find her head, the rest of her is still missing, apparently held in some kind of prison cell somewhere. The mystery of the room she's being kept in, and the occasional exercises she is prodded into, have faded into routine; now, Regan barely contemplates her body while she spends her days with her parents or an eye-activated computer. As a natural optimist, Regan finds her body’s predicament more curious and mysterious than worrying, and her doting parents do their best to never let her feel inconvenienced.

Something between smoke and fire trailed up from between the body’s shoulders in a deep red haze that danced as it "burned." Its trailing tip seemed to evaporate as it swirled about a foot over its origin. John found it hard to consider the rest of the body: a fairly average, petite human frame with pale skin, perky tits, and untrimmed body hair. Unlike the other monsters John had found so far, she had not been restrained at all: her room was a pleasant cell with padded surfaces, a soft bed, a treadmill and exercise weight machine that, by their designs, were sealed shut and safe, and even a closet with nothing but the gray sports bras the Order had afforded their odd guest.

John's first step into the room was already into the impromptu bedroom. He worried, and then felt stupid for worrying, about waking up the sleeping young woman curled up on the bed. Based on her information, I’m guessing she can’t hear, see, or even smell me using the body. Doesn't look like they're mistreating her either, but if her description is anything to go by, then she's stuck at home as just a head! How the Hell do I get her out of here without... oh fuck it, I don’t have time and I can’t just leave her here. Can I? Hmm.

You tried to read Regan's mind, but it’s not here!

Huh. Guess that one's a bit too literal... fuck, even if I got her out of here without branding her, how the Hell am I supposed to find her head?! But if I summoned her once we were out, would that bring both- John shook his head to no one. One day I'll figure out how to reverse the brand and make it alright... but right now, I can't ask her permission, I can't be sure I can get her out once we get moving, and I sure as Hell can't let the Order keep her around like some weird specimen. Is there no moral conundrum I can't avoid with sound logic? John paused as his hand neared the girl's shoulder. His self-mocking had felt... odd, but he chalked it up to years of self-esteem issues. Now's not the time to hesitate.

You’ve captured Regan Sheogue O’Sullivan, but she was kept from being returned to your Temple!

Her body flashed purple... and with her addition to his roster came the wiping of her status effects.

Her body sprung up from the bed, clearly confused as it groped around. John backed out of the cell as the animated form, still headless, began to walk directly towards him. Crap, she must have memorized the room perfectly by now-! Quickly, he leapt backwards and slammed the button to shut the door on her not-face. He thought to explain the situation telepathically. Probably better not to bother her for now, and keeping her there will keep her safe.

On to the next cell John went... the huge black door marked "01." The slow whirr of the bolts made him tense as he waited. The door opening was punctuated by Durr throwing a chunk of rock nearly the size of a car into the far hall. John glanced at the reinforced glass case... and looked back towards the hall. He couldn't see where he had kept Moira restrained--pinned against a wall with magisteel, just so she couldn't hurt the mana-sucker while he was away--but he felt confident that she was still there. He looked back at the redhead in the cell.

Moira Brighton
Level 26 Doppelganger
<Order of the Golden Rose>
HP: 1,405/1,405
MP: 930/930
Str 30 Agi 30 End 30 Int 70 Wis 80 Cha 100 Lib 10
Status Effects: Copy Body (Moira Brighton), Copy Mind (Jonathan Dougel)
Qualities: Dimensionally Anchored, Morphling
A powerful doppelganger caught trying to kill and replace the young Warden of the Shield when she was only fifteen. It is an assassin from Ditto, the Desolate Waste, though the origin of its mission is unknown. Mortally wounded by Lord Brighton, this creature was captured and interrogated while its unfamiliar weapons were sent elsewhere for study. The creature's mind and real form were indiscernible, but this new kind of assassin was studied, and the security measures across the Order were updated to thwart its kind in the future.

"Release me at once!" commanded "Moira" from the cell. She looked much younger, easily the fifteen reported in her (or its) character sheet. She wore chainmail armor, carried the golden relic shield, and held up a small warhammer to point it at John threateningly. "I am the Warden of the Golden Rose, and I demand satisfaction!"

"You're... yeah, you're going to have to work on your word choice," John muttered as he rubbed his chin. He looked to the left, where a reinforced glass door outlined with steel could allow John contact with the creature. "Let's get a look at you, then."

Sovereignty: Eye of the King suppresses Copy Body!

The creature's appearance molded like clay... and returned to what John had to guess was its natural form: a faded image of an indiscernible humanoid, blue in hue and somehow blurred on every visible surface of its naked flesh. It patted itself, a visual phenomenon John had a hard time grasping, and looked back to John with the eyeless gaze of its pale visage. It spoke without a mouth, and its voice was that of a man and woman speaking in unison. "Then your hive has already mastered us."

John checked the information again.

Mimic Drone
Level 26 Doppelganger
<The Hive of Ditto>
HP: 1,405/1,405
MP: 930/930
Str 30 Agi 30 End 30 Int 70 Wis 80 Cha 100 Lib 10
Status Effects: Copy Body (Moira Brighton) [suppressed], Copy Mind (Jonathan Dougel)
Qualities: Dimensionally Anchored, Morphling
A powerful doppelganger caught trying to kill and replace the young Warden of the Shield when she was only fifteen. It is an assassin from Ditto, the Desolate Waste, though the origin of its mission is unknown. Mortally wounded by Lord Brighton, this creature was captured and interrogated while its unfamiliar weapons were sent elsewhere for study. The creature's mind and real form were indiscernible, but this new kind of assassin was studied, and the security measures across the Order were updated to thwart its kind in the future.

"Well, you can at least help." John moved to the door and, with the keycard lifted from the Knight, disengaged its lock. The mimic drone rushed at John, its odd limbs extending to strike at the Gamer. A pitiful exchange of blows and a flash of purple later, the creature rose from the ground newly captured and clearly agitated. No longer suppressed, it took John's form, sending a chill of wrongness down the Gamer's spine. "Jesus, don't ever look like me again."

The creature reverted to a teenage Moira and, with a new human face, looked quite pitiable as it despaired. It spoke in her voice anew, "We have missed the Hive, but... we cannot even feel the Hive anymore. What have you done to us?!"

"We'll talk later. Go help the others with clearing the tunnel." With a pitiable sob, the faux Moira left for its task. The tunnel was halfway cleared in only a minute, thanks to Durr; John continued his mad hunt for reinforcements and prayed the bastards hadn't wired the stairwell to blow as well.

The next cell revealed another woman... this time real.

Rosa Francisco Cardona
Level 18 Improvised Mage
HP: 405/405
MP: 0/397
Str 13 Agi 16 End 12 Int 20 Wis 29 Cha 20 Lib 16
Status Effects: None
Qualities: None
An eighteen-year-old Catalonian orphan who awoke to magic thanks to the tragedy that destroyed her life. A life of homelessness, human trafficking, sex slavery, mana factory ****, and experimentation by older, crueler mages would have broken Rosa if not for her hardened spirit and her oaths to get ****, most of which have been fulfilled. She was captured by the Order after trying to **** Lord Brighton in Spain on one of his visits. Although largely self-taught, she remains a decent mage with a hodge-podge of styles and sources for her magic, as well as an amateur alchemist. She trusts no one and is prone to using and killing others over the risk of the same happening to her.

John froze before the restrained woman as he met her eyes: hazel and beautiful against the tanned, freckled skin of her face, she looked upon him with such a naked hatred as to alarm him. Her hair seemed naturally blue in the flickering lights of her cell; her body, left naked save for the Vow Keeper, was freckled all over and bore tan lines in the shape of a sports bra and underwear slightly larger than the device on her crotch and ass. Where her skin wasn’t so dotted was thanks to extensive, colorful tattoos of cartoon characters, starry nights, and some warped old-timey cityscape.

Yet John couldn't stop staring at her eyes. "I'm not with the Order. I'm busting out of here."

You cast Read Mind on Rosa!

Armadura, pero él no está con la Orden. ¿Un espía? ¿Fugado? ¿Mercenario? She continued to stare at him; he realized now that this was her neutral face. Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, "¿Que quieres de mi?"

John hesitated to make his same, cold offer here. He glanced again at her information. "I don't know if you can understand me, but... I can't have the things or people I'm breaking out betray me... and it looks like that's basically your modus operandi."

Un enemigo de la Orden. "But you need me," she retorted in fluent, if accented, English.

Cripes, I never took Spanish... "I don't. But I don't want to leave you here, either."

"Why?"

Another boulder crashed in the background. Frustrated, John disconnected his spell.

"I'm low on time. Here's the deal: I can brand you. That guarantees you stay obedient to my commands. I'm going to command you to help bust me and my friends out. After that, I'll send you wherever you want to go and you can live your life; as long as you don’t go on a killing spree or some shit, I won’t bother commanding you afterwards. Eventually, I'll remove the brand when I figure out how, presuming, again, you’re not some kind of genocidal maniac."

Her eyes didn't seem angry as much as they seemed... tired. "You're lying."

"I'm not. But you are almost out of time to give me an answer."

Another stone slab crashed against the wall of the cell just outside, vibrating the mana-draining machine that purred just behind the restraining platform. Rosa took a long breath before muttering, "Do it."

A flash of purple light, and his sigil was between her breasts; the deed was done.

<We have reached the turn in the halls… and I can see a room beyond the stones,> reported Durr as instructed.

John quickly worked through the mechanisms of Rose’s restraints. Well, I saved who I could… Fairy, Alysha, Greenpaw, I'm almost out of here. Status?!

<I'm heading over there now!> Fairy reported.

<I am fighting; I have found the one named Lily, but she is heavily guarded,> came Greenpaw's eager thoughts.