#i once had to go on a restricted ship and kill two brutes

[foxstens]

proof that ive gotten better at the game: guards now consistently run away from me

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #27 ~ Warfare

♫Till I Die♫

The fall of Garlemald's effects ran-through out the realm suddenly the shift of power had been flipped over. As many of the countrymen deserted, or those scattered, were pursued. Now they understood what it was like to be the spoils to war. Hunter's turned to prey. A privateer ship supporting under the banner of the Crimson. Chased pursued in the open seas of an attempted escape, a remnant squadron. Their division shattered as their Empire was crumbling to dust. The divisional commander of her ship was taking huge mortar's although the sea-vessel was sturdy and advanced, was taking blows, her men were taking hefty causalities, hearing in screams. They couldn't flee from this. In the fang's of revenge, under the skies of war, monsters were born. The people who once felt were fighting for righteousness, become no-better. These Privateer's were rejoicing. "Commander. Two more alliance accompanying vessels of the opposition have ascended over waves, we've nowhere to go!" The morale of her people were descending. "We've deserved this outcome. It was an honor." Her sentimental tone, spoke they'd rather imperial salute each-other, and commit suicide before becoming prisoners. Right in their contemplated end. The shift was about to turn again.

"A third vessel had wedged between the middle of their reinforcements!" Was shortly called out, giving them further, resolve of hopelessness, before... "Wait. The middle-vessel is bombarding the others!" Suddenly a massive ship rising over tides, removing the fake red Maelstrom banner had been withdrawn into an iconic pirate flag hoisted. Upon the bow-spirit was a tricorne-man. Treading past the destruction of two smaller privateers vessels. The ambush assault left them fodder out-maneuvered. Gathered man, etched in warpaint, they were banned ready for a fight. To intervene between this naval battle. The Seeker leapt back to his decks to bolster. "I would ask ye my Crew, within my helm. T' PRAY for yer enemies. Give them an early moment of silence. For these poor unfortunate soul's will b' educated, they'll earn their red-coats upon this Sun!" He roared and screamed with a warrior shout That followed behind others. "Give Boy-Lad his sea-legs. Let him earn his stripes t' walk over bones!" A crippled and amputated legless fighter crawled on the floor in disbelief, as Sol made augmented prosthetic legs. Unified chaos positioned, to invade the vessel of the privateer from behind. "Aid th' carrier of Garlean's, give all others no-quarter!" Viciously a stampede of leaps was drawn, it was anarchy. Projectiles flung back and forth, sniper shots from the crow's nest of the Worldly Finder started picking off them. Each Crewmate nearly about to be butchered by an opposition was protected by another, they fought as sword and shield, and reversed the roles. Rallied by a leader who was believed-long-flung dead. The brute Seeker skirmishes an assortment of parries to one of the swashbucklers before pulling out a sheathed revolver in the other hand and angling it under his chin and pulling the trigger in a massacre. Completely butchery. Blood of not his own making savagely drew over his face. As he bellowed another victoriously battle-cry that kept even his own injuries gaining on Crew to fight-on. The Garlean's left their hunker, to unity in bewilderment anyone would fight under their behalf. The Captain was almost executed by an aimed shot musketeer but was shot back by an assault rifle of the imperialist. The buccaneer brought terrifying laughter. "THEIR NUMBERS ONLY GIVE US MORE HEADS T' ROLL!" Not only bolstering morality to his own fighters, but also was making hesitation and fear start wearying the grip's of his oppositions, a tactician of dirty behavior. How long have they gotten to do anything they wanted? Or used the excuse of the Garlemald for them to justify or blame their heinous antics? These seas held no discrimination. Yet being constantly corrupted. Putrid borders, barriers for entries, they started skewering Beast Tribes because they strictly took advantage of the Calamity. They put a price-tag on the seas, owning it. Law and restricting and it's no different than what Captain's seen before, they're vindictive and greed-coated. Yet unlike Garlemald who were openly wanting to conqueror, the Maelstrom and Grand Companies alike played fantasy pretend. They're unbeatable, the good! Couldn't do any wrongs, existed of no poison. Bullshit, in war there was no such thing. It's a contest of ego. How many times had the Captain seen a Maelstrom get promoted after they violated his kinsmen, while preaching they were pirates... How many times did he watch them do nothing as people plead in the dirty-alleys before a gal went abducted and missing. These seas would find freedom from vile. Disarray and unorganized, suddenly being attacked by two-sides, the privateer's were being annihilated. Counter measured every-time they brought their marine scholars out, their magic was cancelled by the Historian of the Goldbrand, the purest faith in the Twelve, who brought them no harm, other than silencing their spells. The God's weren't on their side, they belonged to this pirate. That fiendish outcast hound of an Xaela, who ghoulishly shrieked, was feasting on arm's while slewing them in beheaded messes. A Quartermaster

followed by impaling them and hurling the smaller runt's of the enemies. Captain leapt up off that mountain of a Hellsguard on his Crew and bounced off his shoulders dexterously onto the stern. Exchanging in runaways some jumping overboard. "Draw them from th' seas back up here! Their corpses is unworthy t' share with the benthos!" Angry swarming came to their noisy vocalized leader. If they could just behead that blasted vermin then all of them would crumble to despair. He played defensively and evaded one of them about to slayed, was sniped from afar. The handicapped soldier got a puncturing stab on one of the men to protect his Captain before collapsing as his new leg's were already damaged and punctured. The Seeker picked up the adrenaline as blood cut's were protruding from his cheek. He threw his coat onto one of them and jabbed a series of quick deft dirks. A swishing blade came again as he relied on his above-feline scents. The thing he was mocked for by these giants. Doing a handstand leg, disarm from twisting the wrist of the deathly aggressor. The Seeker rolled away and jumped off the stern and swung a leap into the cabin, where he saw the frantic Head-Captain of this enemy helm, run-into, gathering up belongings to attempt plotting retreat. Unexpectedly a flintlock shot at his leg making him fall over all his glistening golds and gil he was trying to rummage into a burlap sack like a coward trying to recollect himself. He brought his own gun out but was disarmed by the wrist from another firearm shot, "Cap'n Daniwyrn... Ye have lost your sense. Recall me." These two knew each-other full and well, this was more than just a one-sided squabble, now. It held harboring emotion. "...Yer supposed t' b' blimey dead!" The callus blood-thirsty Seeker lowered his arm. "Dead is what ye did t' someone I loved. Well, I got yer message. Ye saw t' remove her head cause she moved t' me. If you couldn't have her, neither ov' us could." He lectured in all this chaos-warfare and took a menacing seat. "See, I am not here for revenge on you. This goes beyond that. Now, ye made a crime, sin I find very offensive..." The sea-wolf tried regaining himself while trying to also slowly scoot his bottom and get back his disarmed gun. Knowing was about to be sentenced to a horrific death, or believed. "You have tainted these seas, Daniwyrn. The punishment fer losing your sense. Is crueler than death by my hand. It's t' live as such." He shot the ear's respectively of the privateer. Then the Seeker stood up. Fiendishly brought out his coeurl toothed carved dagger and carved out eye to eye from his enemy. While he was screaming in anguish and incomprehensible pain never able to reel back. He cut that tongue like a fleeting ribbon.

Taking the senses of someone who lacked senses firstly. A fitting treatment, barbarically exercised. He bathed in all the blood over his inferior feline frame. "I know you can't hear me, see, nor speak, though I'm also a nice-guy, I'll leave ye with yer gun... if get the opportunity you should kill yourself." He'd savagely trail, beating his enemy who barely was functioning, stuck in a haze, discombobulated, suffering severe blood-loss. Loading and priming the revolver with one bullet, he'd force it into the arm's of his blind foe and make him squeeze it. Captain walked out as if this was just a regular circumstance. The duty of returning. Closing the cabin door. Hearing a procedure gun-shot ring-throughout. A signal was overhead horned, "They've got more crimson reinforcements!" The battle sizzled and the sparks were over. "Let us gather up, plunder post-haste. Burn this shite down." They took the Garlemald survivors and retreated, licking wounds but won victorious.

[deceptidragon]

Did this ref sheet a while ago, I still really love this girl. This character has gone through so many different designs/alt modes before I finally settled on this. I am really happy with how the final product looks and I tried to keep the look as a mix between the Prime and IDW continuities, not to sure if I failed or succeeded at that.

Name: Furyfang (Test Subject #15)

Height: 17' robot mod, 10' beast mode

Length: 25' beast mode

Spark type: Forged

Mech or Femme: Femme

Faction: Ex-Autobot, Neutral

Alternate Mode: Serpent with winged forlegs & hind legs, based on the Mesopotamian Bašmua and the Mayan Kukulkan (Smite's version)

Personality: The only original remaining personality left from the Cybertronian before was that Fury is very headstrong and stubborn, often charging off to face an opponent without analyzing the situation first. Fury has little to no interest in other beings and had little respect for authority and her fellow Newly Born Predacons, it can sometimes be hard for the others to want to keep Fury around due to how insensitive can sometimes be, often ignoring another's feelings and thoughts. She sees attachment like a Conjunx or Amica as something that holds you back and will often anger those with such bonds by the way she will criticize and brush them off as having an easy weakness. She is the loose cannon of the group and is the most unpredictable of the group.

Weaknesses: Is more of a close combat fighter so during a fighter fight Fury is nothing more than a slithering target and is basically useless since she refuses to use guns (she makes a pretty good distraction though). Fury is not a fast flier; she can not out fly a jet, even one with a broken wing, so flight is mostly restricted to escapes and catching any bots that attempt to get away by running. Furyfang's stubbornness and tenancy to charge head first into battle has cause her to end up in many different situations where she has needed rescuing or just a helping hand, despite her claims of never needing help and that she can take care of herself

Weapons:  Acid-like substance stored in fangs, claws, strong coil grip all when in her alt mode; in robot mode she carried no guns preferring to use brute force of her Predacon from

Abilities: Spit acid a short distance from fangs and inject it into a Cybertronian's engeron lines, can crush almost any bot to death once caught in coils, can fly for a short period of time mostly prefuring to glide since slower in air

Universe(s):  Can appear in either the IDW Generation 1 continuity or the Alined continuity

Defects/Turama/Outlier Abilities: A defect of the procedure performed on Fury left her optics a bit more see through than normal, revealing some circuitry underneath

Conjunx Endura (Sparkmate):  Unknown

Amica Endura: Unknown

Background: Furyfang, not her original name, was an Autobot warrior that was taken prisoner and was transferred to an underground Decepticon lab located on an isolated frozen planet. Along with several other prisoners, a mix of captured Autobots and turncoat Decepticons, Furyfang was a subject in an experiment known a 'Project Beast'. The project was an attempt to recreate the Predacons, ancient creatures of Cybertron's past and possibly give the test subjects the legendary power that was lost to the modern beastformers. The experiments entailed the victim's spark, spinal strut and brain being removed and their original body being used for spare parts. The victims main parts were then placed into a CR like chamber that kept them alive until a protoform that was infused with Predacon CNA was partially developed enough for the brain, spinal strut and spark could be inserted. The newly created body was then left to finish developing, but the victim remains in stasis lock leaving them open to be partially lobotomised by a mnemosurgon. Unfortently the mnemosurgon that preformed Furyfang's surgery, and the few survivors of the project, was unable to fully complete the reprogramming process that would allow the Decepticons to have full control of the newly born Predacons (NBP). It was different among each prisoner, but in Furyfang's case a good chunk of her headstrong personality remained intact along with some foggy memories of her forging and attempts to find her place in society. Mostly everything else was lost from her original name and alt mode to her recruitment into the Autobots and eventual capture.

When the lab's staff turned against its head scientist, who had lost mind and was using his underlings as test subjects themselves, Furyfang was on of the first newly born Predacons freed and attacked her tormentors. During the rebellion of the surviving NBP's, communication from the planet was discovered to be blocked meaning the lab had been abandoned, and it was not recent. The freed prisoners were then stuck between a rock and a hard place, with there being a single ship that would not make it off planet before an impending blizzard on the planet's surface. With no ability to contact the outside and no possible chance of leaving before the storm, the NBP's were able to use the staff's stasis pods to wait out the storm in. Unfortunately the storm had knocked out the lab's surface energy source sending it into emergency power and trapping the survivors in stasis.

The lab's emergency energon reserves were able to last close to two million years by diverting all energon to the stasis life support systems. Though a few pods ended up losing power and killing the Cybertronian resting inside, leaving an even smaller group of NBP survivors. Help soon arrived in the form of a neutral scavenging ship, that had accidently came across the abandoned lab when being shot down over the planet. The scavengers were able to enter the lab and free the surviving NBP's informing them of the end of the war. With this newfound information and loss of original identify the small group of survivors ended up joining the neturals. All seemed good until the ship that shot down the neutrals revealed itself to be the infamous Decepticon Justice Division. The neutral's had been hunted down by the DJD due to one of the members being an ex-con, and the few NBP the were turncoats were just icing on the cake. Fleeing the frozen planet with the neutral scavengers, Furyfang and her fellow Predacons remained with said neutrals not only as a thanks for saving their lives but also because they had no place to go. So they joined the neutrals in their never ending escape of the DJD.

Random Facts:

Furyfang chose her name because of the very prominent fangs she has and that she was described by her captors a "rage in person", only substituting rage with a synonym: Fury

Fury's beast from was at the start based off of just Kukulkan because he was one of the god's that caught my eye in the game Smite, the Bašmua aspect came into play later by adding the more horn like structures and turing the more bird-like wings into those that could be describe more like a Wyvern's.

Fury did not free any of her fellow prisoners, instead opting to full rip apart any Decepticon she came across

Furyfang was the one to kill both mnemosurgons, one by crushing them to death and the other by melting with her newfound ability to spit acid from her fangs

Fury can exist within both the IDW Gen 1 and Aligned continuity, with the only slight difference between the two being that the lab in the Aligned continuity was under the supervision of Shockwave till it was left to the head scientist, Biosphere and it was also the start of what would become Project Predacon, leading to the creation of Predaking

Note that this was posted on my DA a while ago

[krinsbez]

My Transformers Fancon: Decepticon High Command, Part III

-Tarn of Nyon commands the Decepticon Secret Police, in charge of stomping out internal dissent, and personally leads the DSP's elite Justice Division, which hunts down and brutally kills defectors. As demonstrated by his renaming himself after Megatron's hometown and having his face remade into the Decepticon logo, no one is more loyal to Megatron and the Decepticon cause, not even Soundwave. For one, Soundwave justifies his loyalty by being deeply in denial about the monsters they've turned into, whereas Tarn has no such illusions, and is fanatically devoted anyways. Soundwave also has his own ambitions, whereas Tarn genuinely cares for nothing but seeing Megatron's will be done. Not having realized that Megatron views this slavish devotion with contempt, Tarn is completely baffled why Megatron values Soundwave more than him, and subsequently hates the Intelligence chief with the intensity of a supernova. The only person he hates more is Starscream, who routinely attempts to betray Megatron and yet somehow remains second-in-command. Depsite his attempts not to show his true feelings to his superiors, they're both well aware of it; Soundwave ignores it, except when he needs to manipulate the DSP commander, whereas Starscream finds Tarn's impotent rage hilarious and makes a point of provoking him for kicks. -Thunderwing of Iacon is the newest member of High Command. Powerful, skilled, brilliant and charismatic, he led his Mayhem Attack Squad to some of the Decepticons' greatest victories. He came up with Pretender shells (though the tech was perfected by Shockwave and Tarantulas). He has never shown the slightest hint of disloyalty. He is the only member of High Command that Megatron worries about; everyone else, Megs has a bead on, is totally confident he can take on, or both. Thunderwing, however, is a complete enigma, and is every bit as badass as Megatron. For this reason, Megatron took the unusual step of assigning one of the Megacons, Bludgeon, to serve under Thunderwing and thus keep an eye on him.

-Tyrannitron of the Sector 4/6.4-K Campaign is the youngest member of Decepticon High Command, having been born only a few million years ago (you can tell he's warborn because his name refers to his first battle rather than his place of birth). A brilliant strategist and tactician, and an equally adept personal manipulator, Tyrannitron is the commander of the Decepticon Battle Fleet. While he has shown himself quite capable of commanding troops in the field as he is ships in space, he ever commanded Vehicon drones planetside. This because, while a Point-One-Percenter like his parent Archforce (to whom he bears a striking resemblance) and thus able to punch far above his weight-class, he is a Mini-Con. Given the might-makes-right philosophy of the Decepticons, this would mean that, where he to lead ordinary troops, he would face constant challenges to prove his fitness to lead, which while he is confident of winning said challenges (again, Point-One-Percenter), he doesn't have the patience. On the upside, it also meant that, unlike, say, Thunderwing, he has managed to avoid setting off the suspicions of Megatron and his inner circle.

(thanks to @cirex101 for helping me with the next three)

Jhiaxus: Second best.  That is the phrase that most Decepticons, and even some Autobots, would describe Jhiaxus, a brilliant scientist.  Second best to Shockwave.  Jhiaxus knows this what his peers think of him, and it infuriates and drives him in equal measure.  In order to escape from under SHockwave's shadow he revolutionized the Decepticon's budding system, creating legions of warriors almost overnight.  However, these warrioers are little more than cheap cannon fodder for the Decepticon cause, and have a shorter life expectancy on the battlefield compared to the older Decpticon warriors, earning them the derisive nickname "Genericons".  At the urging of Shockwave, Megatron assigned the Genericon legions to mere garrison duties, or to throw them at Autobot defenses whenever Megatron needs to distract the Bots from his true objective.  This ignoble fate to what was once his crowning achievement only spurs Jhiaxus to improve upon his designs, upgrading the Genericons, an creating even more horrible monstrosities in his lab.

Currently, Jhiaxus is in command of ‘Con controlled Cybertron

Onslaught: A decorated veteran officer of the Primal Vanguard, Onslaught left that prestigious institution in defiance of Functionism's, and by extension, Senator Proteus', growing power on Cybertron.  Onslaught signed on with the Decepticon movement, and used his military knowhow to win several victories during the Functionist revolt.  Onslaught and his elite team, the Combaticons, were responsible for several daring raids into Autobot held territory, and gained a reputation for planning almost every outcome.  However, the old saying, "No plan survives contact with the enemy", rings true, and although he plans for almost anything, Onslaught cannot plan for every eventuality, and if enough things go wrong, will lose his cool and resort to simply blowing the slag out of the enemy.   This deficiency prevents Onslaught from moving up in the Decepticon Hierarchy, but he doesn't let it show on the surface, and is liable to kill anyone who attempts to taunt him. 

Razorclaw: While Onslaught plans ahead of the battle, Razorclaw makes his plans durring the middle of battle.  His ability to take the unexpected with a clear, cool head makes Razorclaw's Predacons one of the fiercest squads in the entire Decepticon war machine.  Emotionless almost to Shockwave's level, Razorclaw was a gladiator, but he and his team operated in Vos, and as such never met Megatron in the arena.  However, he had heard of Megatron, and pledged his loyalty to him at the onset of the Functionist Revolt, ruthlessly hunting down Proteus' supporters with a silent enthusiasm that was as unnerving as it was effective.   Razorclaw is straightforward, and doesn't seek advancment in the ranks, seemingly content in his current position.  Some see this as laziness, but if you look beneath his contentment, you will see that Razorclaw is one of the most dangerous Decepticons because of this; he cannot be bought, bribed, intimidated, cajoled, or manipulated.  All that matters to him is the hunt, and many an unfortunate Con that got on his badside became the prey. 

BTW, something I tried to indicate but I'm not sure came through. There were two kinds of gladiatorial combat on Cybertron prior to the Great War, Arena Games, which were legal, restricted to trained gladiators, and had strict rules to minimize lethality, and Pit Fights, which were illegal, anyone can have a go, and the only rules are to put on a good show and try not to kill the audience. Mind, given how much punishment TFs can take, Pit Fights aren't that much more brutal or lethal than Arena Games. The real appeal of the Pit Fights is in their unpredictability; you can see a master of Metallikato go up against some big guy with a rocket punch, see a Beast-former take on a Tank, or who knows what.

Anyways, Razorclaw was an Arena Gladiator, because (as SB and SV poster Q99 put it...)

Razorclaw is a smart fighter, and he loves outfighting his opponents. Arena Fighters are almost all trained combatants at the upper levels, of the type he loves defeating, so once he's in the upper ranks his foes are almost all high-quality... though still not a match for him. Pit Fighters, you're more likely to see foes rely on raw power or a gimmick, and while he respects the more skilled fighters there, he doesn't want to waste time with the 'chaff' who got in because they happen to be a tank or such, or deal with silly 'three lesser bots vs one champ' matches, and as pit fighters are less regimented even good fighters there spend more time dealing with that kind of thing.

Which adds a bit of tension because Megatron and half of High Command were Kaonian Pit Fighters, so naturally they're going to think poorly of a Vosian Arena Gladiator. BTW, speaking of raw power versus skill, I imagine that... -Megatron, of course, is both hella powerful and crazy skilled

-Thunderwing is as well.

-Shockwave is actually a terrible fighter but makes up for her lack of skill with raw power.

-Starscream is the opposite; physically the weakest member of High Command, but makes up for it with skill.

-Scorponok is a beast, and he's got raw talent at fighting, but has no polish or finesse.

-Cryotek's strong, and used to be a good fighter, but he's rusty.

-Soundwave is a good mix of power and skill.

-Tyrannitron is similar, but has a fondness for trickery, head games, and such.

-Tarn is just this side of invincible, but finds brute force distasteful.

(the next three are thanks to @cirex101 again)

-Jhiaxus is unskilled, makes up for it with power, but not to the same extant as Shockwave.

-Onslaught has strength, but finesse he saves for his strategies.

-Razorclaw is both skilled and strong, but not to the same extant as Megatron, or Thunderwing.

-Dirt Boss was a scrappy little guy who always preferred to cheat. This may be one of the reasons he's dead.

Now I know what you’re thinking; Dirt Boss? You didn’t mention Dirt Boss. That’s because he’s dead, having been killed by Prowl. Before that, Dirt Boss was commander of the Combat Engineering Corps, and a member of Megatron's inner circle. Since his death, the Constructicons have resisted any attempt to appoint a permanent replacement and instead take turns holding the office. Megatron is not happy about this, but is unwilling to make an issue of it.

A few bits and bobs about Deception High Command:

-The Megacons are not technically members of High Command, but as Megatron's personal goon squad, each member holds comparable authority. In addition to the original line-up (sans Bludgeon) of Airachnid, Blackout, Thunderblast, and Lugnut, they've since added Lugnut's lover Strika, her conjunx Obsidian, and Megatron's personal medic, Scalpel. -A personality conflict I neglected to mention; while she doesn't act on it, Shockwave really doesn't like Cryotek, for reasons that should be obvious. -I haven't figured out what Tarn did before the War; I can't decide if he was also a Pit Fighter or if he did something else. What do you guys think?

-In addition to Shockwave and Tarantulas, a surprising number of the top Decepticons have science backgrounds (thanks to SVer KageX)

For Starscream since he was leader of the Exploration Corps perhaps his expertise lies not in the lab developing new weapons but in "surveying" areas and coming up with ways to exploit resources as well as how to survive in them. Think of the difference between a Geologist and a Chemist. Yes there is some overlap, but they focus on different areas of application. Starscream focuses on planning "field operations" and harvesting resources in his area of scientific expertise. He would know how to fix a shuttle, but it would not be his area of expertise, just something he picked up along the way as he was exploring distant areas of the universe. It would also explain his slippery nature, as this job would likely involve meeting with and negotiating with Alien Races. So Starscream became quite good at "negotiations" and other political endeavors.

- Shockwave is a polymath who is a master of all fields of hard science. Jhiaxus is more specialized; he does cybergenetics, mechanobiology, electronics, etc. but if you ask him about astrophysics or climatology, he's got nothing. Scorponok is interested in organic biology, but doesn't advertise this, since your average 'Con is at best apathetic about organics, and many actively hate 'em. Thunderwing is a dabbler; he reads scientific journals*, and will periodically come up with a clever idea, but doesn't really pursue the sciences.

-How Thunderwing came up with Pretender Shells: after conquering a particular planet, he made a point of studying their tech base, realized that some of their tech could be combined with Cybertronian tech to do something interesting, and sent Shockwave a memo. Shockwave agreed he was onto something, and she and Tarantulas made something out of it.

[catmagemcgunblade]

Spell, Steel, and Salve

Written for the Apiary holiday showcase as a member of the Chocobees sub-community. Contains mild Stormblood spoilers as well as original characters.  V’nazh Tia belongs to Dio. Scorra Verrun belongs to LysanderasD.

The sun had scarcely risen and already the Wolves’ Den was abuzz with activity. Grand Company sergeants directed their units to waiting ferries. Mercenary captains assembled their squadrons in formation by the aetheryte in preparation for mass teleport. Adventurers of every shape, size, and stripe conversed loudly with each other and the myriad vendors within the bowels of the Braveheart hawking all the manner of goods from foodstuffs to armor and weapons.

Opposite the aetheryte to the berthed ship stood the dueling arena. Unlike the ship and its adjacent piers, this one stood largely empty. Within its seasoned wood partitions, adventurers tested their mettle against the most dangerous of beasts: each other. For the moment, it sat empty.

V’nazh absent-mindedly drummed his fingers upon one of the many piles that held the main aetheryte plaza above the waves. Were it his choice he would be idly twirling his rapier, but alas the Maelstrom crew were adamant about drawing of arms being restricted to the training areas. Instead he consigned himself to yet again going over the runes in the tome of arcanima that floated before him. He sighed. Patience was unfortunately not among the Seeker’s talents.

“Where in the hells is she?” he grumbled.

As if to spite him, the air near the aetheryte hummed and crackled before finally displacing with a loud pop. Out of a flash of aetheric lightning stepped a slim Raen woman. V’nazh instantly perked up.

“Finally!” He muttered as he strode to the aetheryte. “You’re late, Scorra. You’re never late.”

“Forgive me if more pressing matters drew my attention.” Scorra offered a wan smile. “There should be no further delays.”

V’nazh’s left ear twitched and turned toward her, his tail curling ever so slightly to suggest his skepticism. A mocking snort was followed by a sarcastic quip. “Someone is in a good mood today!”

Scorra rolled her eyes. “I just treated four and one dozen patients in Gridania. As much as I wanted to make it in on time, the wounded coming back across the wall could not wait.”

The floating tome in front of V’nazh slammed shut. With a wave of his hand, the magicked book floated back to his waist and clipped itself onto his belt. He crossed his arms.

“The Conjurer’s Guild couldn’t handle that? I thought it quite convenient for them to do so, seeing as the repository for all conjury-based healing magicks is right on the border from the Ala Mhigan front.”

Scorra shook her head. “Conjury is no substitute for proper medical treatment. It can stop someone from bleeding out and stabilize them for transport, but you still need someone with the expertise to set broken bones, chelate poisons, and debride infections after they leave the battlefield. There is no replacement for trained chirugeons.”

“Sounds exhausting,” V’nazh said, rubbing his forehead. To someone more accustomed to slinging spells at monsters and delving into ancient ruins, the monotony of clinical work seemed very much stifling.

“Very.”

“Would you prefer we skipped today's session?” he asked. “I’m sure there’s a pelican I could incinerate or a leve in Halfstone I could pick up to pass the time.”

“You really think me lacking in stamina?”

For once, V’nazh could not tell if she was joking or serious. He hesitated a moment before his usual humor returned. “You realize I’m not going to go easy on you, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, V’nazh. In fact, I’d be quite disappointed if you did.”

The Miqo’te shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll talk to the sergeant about securing us a slot on the dueling deck.”

The boom of spell and crash of blades echoed across the salt-stained piers. Adventurers and Maelstrom alike looked on in interest, gleaning what they could from the exchange but knowing well enough to give the duelists wide berth. Within the confines of the dueling pier, the two combatants locked blades before swiftly separating and circling again.

His back to the sea, V’nazh cracked his neck and twirled his rapier in a bold flourish. Though the crimson of his longcoat collar covered his mouth, his eyes betrayed the predatory grin plastered across his face. An open tome bound in the same crimson floated quietly behind him, a glowing circle of arcane runes shining upon its pages. The Seeker breathed deeply of the salt air and pointed his blade at his opponent.

In the opposite corner, Scorra stood resolute, her katana at high guard. Were the tails of her coat not blowing in the sea wind it would be easy to mistake her for a statue. Her eyes were hidden behind a helmless visor, her mouth drawn tight into a thin line that betrayed nothing. After a moment of respite, she glided forward. In stark contrast to the cocky showmanship of her opponent, she walked in measured steps, each movement calculated and each blow predicted far in advance.

V’nazh shot first. Arcane lightning arced across the surface of his blade and leaped to his left hand. Pointing his index finger like a gun, deadly chain lightning blasted from his fingertip. Thunder rocked the pier as the lightning bolt found purchase… in the battered wood of the deck. The flash of Scorra’s blade was nearly too fast to see, though the resulting wave of aether was not. The splash of the bursting Enpi spell was like a punch to the gut, sending V’nazh stumbling backwards, eyes momentarily useless from the brilliant flash. Only the tell-tale clomping of boots on decking gave him warning of the next incoming attack.

He raised his blade and swept an arc in front of himself, deflecting the incoming katana with the guard of his rapier. The tome behind him chimed at his mental command. It flashed brightly as ribbons of searing aether burst from the arcane geometries shimmering upon its pages. V’nazh didn’t have to aim for the kill; getting Scorra to move and not attack was enough.

V’nazh twirled his blade, flipping it into reverse grip as he focused on the air around him. A swirling sphere of aetherically charged winds roared to life upon the pommel of his sword. Jabbing it forward, he fired.

A miniature hurricane exploded between them, the howling winds enough to whip up salt spray all around the deck, shrouding the arena in a fine mist. V’nazh kept his weapon pointed forward, his ears independently scanning, straining to hear anything above the lapping of waves and the murmurs of the gathered crowd. His tail twitched nervously.

The Seeker’s eyes snapped to the sound of movement from his left. A flash of luminous aether gave him little warning. V’nazh raised his hands and spread them apart quickly in a hasty gesture of defense. A wall of translucent aether sprang to life in front of him just in time to intercept Scorra’s attack. The sound of metal on glass rang in V’nazh’s ears as a wave of aether resembling five massive swords slammed into the shield. His manaward strained against the explosive assault, its surface visibly cracking and splintering before finally failing, peppering him with aetheric embers and the remnants of Scorra’s spell.

V’nazh skidded backwards several yalms, his longcoat still smoking from the blast of superheated kenki. His tail twitched again. Something was amiss. Scorra was precise, calculating, and reserved, almost to a fault. Even one as impulsive as V’nazh could see plainly that a blast of that caliber was unwarranted for a single target. No, she would use subterfuge and superior technique before she would resort to brute force. What changed?

“What really happened back there, Scorra?” He said, just loud enough to be heard above the sea, but not so loud as to broadcast his intent to the crowd.

His blade returned to en garde, pointed in the direction of the previous attack, but he made no effort to re-engage. His tome scanned back and forth, independently searching for the target while V’nazh bided his time. He could blow up the arena surface, saturate it with ice, fire, and lightning. The battle mage in him demanded he seize the initiative. But the friend in him held back.

A hum at the edge of hearing grow into a roaring torrent of furious aether. With no manaward remaining, V’nazh could only block with his blade. The edge of Scorra’s katana stopped just ilms from his face. Seeing a target, the tome fired. Scorra disengaged, deftly sidestepped the Ruin spell, and counterattacked.

Her own tome leaped from her belt and flew open, its leaves rifling quickly to the appropriate spell. The floating tome fired a ray of sickly purple light, blasting V’nazh’s implement out of the air. The foul smell of corrosive miasma stung V’nazh’s nostrils and he found himself unable to command the grimoire mentally.

Cursing silently, V’nazh finally offered a riposte in steel. He lunged forward but his blade bit empty air. A pang of regret coursed through him as he realized he had overextended. The air around him ignited, the arcane blast enough to broil flesh in actual combat. Though he knew that the enchantments in the dueling arena would prevent his death, the pain was no less real. V’nazh staggered backwards, the burns not only searing body but aether.

“What the hells happened back there?” he repeated, his voice rasping from the pain searing his body. A beat of silence passed, enough for V’nazh to bring his guard back up. Finally, Scorra spoke.

“There was a woman -- no, a girl -- from Gridania. She was an Ala Mhigan refugee.” Scorra materialized out of the fading fog just yalms away. “She went up against magitek armor in her first deployment. They shouldn’t have let her go!”

“The volunteers were the most motivated of all of them,” V’nazh countered. “You couldn’t have convinced them to stay home when their homeland was at stake!”

“You’ve seen the armors in action.” She continued, her voice cracking. “You’ve fought them before. You know what they can do!”

Scorra’s blade glowed fiery red, igniting with aether as she charged forward. V’nazh parried the strike, sending Scorra’s kenki burst into the deck. Splinters and smoke exploded from the surface of the arena, dowsing the pier in acrid embers. Spinning his blade point down, V’nazh slammed the tip into the deck. Hoarfrost crawled from the guard down the blade, rapidly unfurling across the pier. The air around them palpably chilled before jagged spikes of void ice erupted from the floor.

The ice slithered into coursing tendrils, forming an icy gaol that locked Scorra’s legs in place. V’nazh waved his blade in a wide circle, ghostly rapiers flashing into existence for each segment of arc traced. The spectral blades formed an unearthly halo above his head, spinning menacingly with blades pointed outward. A point of his blade sent the magic missiles screaming toward his target. Scorra whirled her katana around frantically to defend herself, deflecting the incoming blades one after another.

V’nazh reversed his grip on his rapier again, this time gathering elemental fire upon its pommel. With practiced motion, he sent a ball of searing flame shooting at Scorra. Unable to evade and her attention consumed deflecting magic missiles, Scorra took the full brunt of the attack. The ice around her sublimated instantly. Tongues of flame engulfed her torso, the force of the explosion sending her heels over head away from V’nazh.

Whipping his blade back around, V’nazh returned his sword to en garde. Acrid fumes from the mixture of vaporized seawater and seared wood lingered in a biting miasma about the arena. As the smoke from the explosion cleared, the slender form of Scorra emerged.

Her mask was gone, knocked off by the force of the explosion. Her longcoat was covered in soot and her face was reddened from exposure to heat and steel. Her hair had fallen out of its usual ponytail and now streamed out behind her in sync with her coattails in the sea wind. Her blade was not raised in guard, but dangled tiredly by her side. Exhausted, saddened eyes looked back at V’nazh.

“She was just a girl, V’nazh” She said quietly. “She was younger than us, barely old enough to enlist in the Serpents. She deserved to live out her life in peace, not being burned to death by some metal monstrosity from a yet more monstrous nation!”

“It’s not your fault, Scorra!” He could not help but shout. Damn all the onlookers in peanut gallery. If they were to make light of either of them he would have a bone to pick with each one after this was over!

“Isn’t it, though?” She said darkly. “The conjurers did all they could. She needed a chirugeon to save her. I was that chirugeon, V’nazh. But I couldn’t do it. I failed her.”

Scorra charged forward again, blade rising to high guard as she moved. He raised his blade to parry, but the attacks seemed to come from everywhere at once. V’nazh could feel the cuts continuing to tear at his flesh even after Scorra had already finished her strike and disengaged. The pain of cutting aether brought V’nazh to one knee. The point of his rapier bit into the deck as he leaned upon it, using it to slowly push himself back onto his feet.

“How many lived?” he rasped.

Scorra paused, seemingly uncertain of her words before finally answering. “Fifteen.”

“Then you didn’t fail.” The delay was enough for V’nazh to push himself back onto his feet. Resolve filled his words as it filled his veins. “Fifteen lived because of you!”

V’nazh twirled his blade into reverse grip. Upon its pommel a jagged red shard of aether formed. He touched the index finger of his left hand to it. Raising it like a gun yet again, he aimed and fired. To his dismay, Scorra made no attempt to dodge. She cried out in pain at the impact, clutching her chest with her free arm.

“You bring life out of death.” He continued. “That girl is proud of you, Scorra! You saved her unit so they can fight Garlemald another day! No one can ask for more than that!”

“They won’t ask for it, but they deserve better.”

“Then give them better.”

The words found purchase, instantly grabbing her attention. Scorra looked up and locked eyes with V’nazh. He went on, “Your skills will only improve. Next time you’ll save more. And someday, all.”

Scorra took a deep breath and raised her eyes, fire seeming to reignite in them. She dashed forward with katana at high guard. V’nazh grinned. This was the Scorra he remembered!

Steel clashed against steel. Scorra’s katana flashed around him, but V’nazh himself seemed to draw strength from her renewed vigor, matching her attacks with parry and riposte of his own. He launched into a flurry of thrusts, ending with a flourish that summoned yet more ghostly blades around him. The volley of missiles shot into the air, crashing down around Scorra even as V’nazh vaulted backwards on aetherwind, putting distance between himself and his opponent.

Alighting squarely on his feet, V’nazh parried an incoming Enpi burst, dispelling the blast of kenki with a wave of his blade before attempting to prepare another spell. He realized too late that evading would have been preferable to blocking. Scorra emerged from V’nazh’s missile barrage unscathed, the shimmering chartreuse of her arcane shields galvanizing her against his attack. Her tome again flew from her hip. A flash of bright blue sprang from its pages.

Blue flames erupted all around him and V’nazh found himself gripped in artificial torpor. His actions came slowly, the very fabric of the universe seeming to resist his motions. Flames of magicked shadow continued to dance around him, searing flesh and sapping aether, leaving him exposed.

Scorra appeared before him seemingly out of thin air, her blade sheathed and her hand gripped tightly around the hilt. The air around them chilled. Hoarfrost rimed the deck planks and traced strange fractal patterns on her scabbard as softly glowing motes of light resembling cherry blossom petals danced around her.

Gleaming steel bathed the arena in the ghostly glow of blazing kenki, the twin impacts ringing loud as thunder and the aftermath soft as autumn moonlight. V’nazh briefly felt himself floating, enraptured by the sheer might of Scorra’s strike. The world snapped back into focus as pain wracked his entire body from the blows that cut not just his flesh, but his very aether. His strength left him, robbing him of the ability to even stand, let alone counterattack. In an instant, V’nazh crumpled into a heap on the ground.

The enchantments upon the arena activated and the deck was returned to its starting condition. V’nazh could feel his wounds fade, at least enough that he could walk, though he was certain he’d be feeling the thorough trouncing Scorra had given him well into the next day.  He slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position only to find Scorra standing over him with sheathed blade, extending a hand to him in assistance. He accepted, allowing the Raen to pull him onto his feet. A smattering of applause broke out from the gathered spectators.

“I’m proud of you, too.” He said softly, ignoring the murmurs of the onlooking crowd.

Scorra turned away. “I’m sorry I let that get to me. I know sometimes there’s nothing we can do. But it still hurts.”

V’nazh put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, I know. It’s hard being salve for the wounded. But you’re one of the best chirugeons I know. And the world’s a better place for it.”

“Thanks.” She finally turned to him and smiled. “Speaking of chirugeons, let’s get you patched up!”

V’nazh managed a weak laugh, a laugh that rapidly devolved into groans of pain as his wounds protested mightily. It was true that he had lost the duel. But V’nazh was quite alright with that so long as he did not lose his friend. For all the spell and steel he brought forth in battle, he would always need faithful salve to ensure he was healthy and hale afterwards. For that end, his friend had no equal.

[akutagawaprize]

You'll talk someday about how the Port Mafia is portrayed? ( not the bightest bulbs in the chandelier huh. Not the most subtle either) im not trying to rush you, it bothers me too and im just curious. I like your analysis. Have a nice day

Haha all kidding aside, I’ve been meaning to talk about them for quite a while now. It’s just that I want the stuff I write to make sense, because usually they’re self-indulgent rambles. And this one won’t be an exception, especially since I have so many feelings about Port Mafia.

Usually it’s the protagonists who are outmatched, outgunned, outnumbered, or just generally outclassed. Through sheer force of will and nakama power perfect teamwork do they come out on top. Even then sacrifices have to be made. At the start, the Armed Detective Agency seemed like it will follow this mold, but soon we are introduced to their abilities.

On paper and in practice, the abilities of the members of ADA greatly complement each other. This means that even with few active operatives who can work on the field, they got all bases covered. If this were an MMO they’d have Atsushi and Kenji as tanks, Atsushi again and then Kunikida for DPS, Tanizaki going for Assistance/Crowd Control, Fukuzawa as Buffer, Dazai as Debuffer and of course, Yosano as their Healer. Not to mention Ranpo, the formidable brains behind their operations (with Dazai as backup, or even vice versa).

Now let’s take a look at the mafia. Not counting Odasaku, in their group who doesn’t have an offensive ability? Ace? Sure, but his ability only applies to his subordinates, and anyway he’s also dead. See the problem? Chuuya probably has the most versatile ability in the mafia right now, but it’s either he takes great pride in his prowess as a martial artist or he just can’t think of creative ways to take advantage of the fact that he can, well, manipulate gravity. There’s also Elise, who seems to be “programmed” to be able to do feats no ordinary human can, but we don’t know much about her. Outside of these two, the one who impresses is Kajii. His ability sounded like a joke sure, but he knows how to make use of it and in the right circumstances, can be that one member to watch out for. There’s also talks about another executive member or two. Whether one exists we don’t know, but I can only hope they’ll possess an ability that is a supportive one, or something gamechanging like mind reading or memory wipe.

Don’t get me wrong! It is rather refreshing to see a team full of competent people, especially in their line of work where they’ll find themselves smack dab in the middle of dirty matters the police and the military would rather not handle. That they are well-rounded means it’s easy to imagine why the government would want their help, why they get the requests they do, and why they are favored to take on cases that will pit them against criminals/evildoers who have their own deadly abilities.

But at the same time, the agency members seem almost… overpowered. They have limits and restrictions, true, but these barely influence how they use their abilities. The times they get into action, the enemies have done absolutely nothing to counter them or anticipate their movements… which is a shame really! Heroes are only as good as the villains who oppose their ideologies and this time, Fyodor has Port Mafia beat in spades.

Imagine Chapter 47 with Tanizaki using Kunikida’s note (while he can materialize objects remotely we didn’t know if anybody else could activate it or if distance was gonna an issue, but this does not break previously established rules so it gets a pass) to materialize a switchblade. Wouldn’t it have been far more interesting if one of them saw the trap, retaliated, and then caught Tanizaki off-guard, causing him to use his illusion to play mind games, make them question each other, heck make them question their own senses. But we don’t see any of it, we just see Tanizaki tricking everyone and it’s frustrating to watch, especially since they are already aware of what Tanizaki can do and have taken no measures to ensure he won’t be able to pull the same trick twice.

You see this with Akutagawa and Chuuya too, both preferring brute strength over anything else. Would it have been too OOC to have a panel of Chuuya looking/glancing around, trying to eliminate any possibilities of a trap? I’m sure Ranpo would have succeeded in luring Chuuya regardless but no matter how hotblooded Chuuya is, he’s a mafia executive still! There should be an ounce of logic in that brain. If the one at the top is this hopeless, what about the others?

I wasn’t particularly affected by that scene in Episode 4/Chapter 5 where the ADA systematically wrecks Black Lizard and mops the floor with them because I knew they were the equivalent to Red Shirts despite being properly introduced and being called commanders of an elite fighting squad… Okay, okay, reading what I just typed and looking back, it does make you wonder whether the mafia’s full of jobbers like these guys or if the ones at the top are just much, much scarier. Akutagawa was beaten by an untrained and inexperienced Atsushi who had been with ADA in just, what, a month or two? Chuuya’s an executive who looks cool and has an ability that is even cooler, but stick him next to Dazai and he becomes a sheepdog who’s all bark and no bite. Let’s not forget how he can only activate the “true” form of his ability if Dazai’s there to cancel it or else his body will give up on him. Kouyou looks like she means business, but she goes soft for Kyouka. Despite saying she’d stay in the mafia to help run their organization, one couldn’t help but wonder based on her recent actions whether she’s having second thoughts. The Black Lizard… No comment. Higuchi… She’s a badass Muggle, but a Muggle nonetheless.

Mori? Now we’re talking. In episode 21/Chapter 30 we learn that the previous leader had gone delirious and started giving out illogical orders, resulting to confusion and punishing losses on the mafia’s side. Mori relieves the leader of his duty, with a young Dazai as the sole witness. Mori has ambitions, but the exchange also implies that if the leader hadn’t let things escalate to such a sorry state then Mori wouldn’t have needed to go that far. Remember, at the conclusion of the 3 Way War Arc, he gave Kouyou the option of staying or running away. He may be coolheaded, but he’s not coldblooded. All of the actions he takes are to ensure the continued survival of the mafia, which is why unless some other canon information comes out, I’ll choose to believe that until now Mori is wrestling with the idea of killing Dazai for good or letting him be. I won’t put it past Mori to think up of a plan to convince Dazai to go back willingly, even putting his life on the line. Just as he won’t kill Dazai, he’s sure Dazai won’t kill him because once that happens there will be no turning back. So as long as the chance of Dazai returning is not at 0%, Mori will keep Dazai alive until he is sure he won’t have any need for him in the future.

Moving on, this is all rather awkward, but one glaring weakness of Port Mafia right now is just how damn good Mori is at his job. His absence leaves such a vacuum that everything is thrown out of order. There is no one to assume command the same way he can; the successor he’d groomed has long jumped ship. All other candidates for his replacement are woefully inadequate and ill-prepared. It’s a fate which calls to mind those great conquerors whose kingdoms fell into ruin not too long after they have passed away. Again, this is probably why Mori had invited Dazai back even if he was the one who chased him out in the first place.The thing is, no one has shown awareness of this. There has been no talk about any fear for the future, about what would happen post-Mori. The way the mafia acts, they think they’re invincible, that the halcyon days would never come to an end. Never mind that the ADA and maybe even the police had cornered them with their backs pressed against the wall a few couple times. To maf members, their strength and number are enough; sense, caution and tactics can come later. Ironic, considering these are things Mori presumably values and holds in high regards.

The Port Mafia has no unifying goal, so to speak. Of course, the ultimate point of the mafia is to make money, with violence as a currency they are willing to spend on those who won’t bow their heads. It’s a choice of lifestyle for those who enjoy crime and the taste of power… for those who find it easier to be dishonest… and maybe those who simply have nowhere else to go back to like that kid who became Ace’s collared subordinate. The mafia is their home, but unlike with the ADA, they didn’t join to make friends or play house. Again, most of them are probably motivated by money. That’s why when Mori was incapacitated, they didn’t have the same desperation as ADA, even with Hirotsu saying they are fighting to prove their worth by protecting their boss.

Finally, while the Port Mafia are heralded as “wardens of the night” and are comfortable in monitoring and participating in underground dealings and criminal activities in Yokohama, outside of their jurisdiction they hold little power. They have no ties to other organizations, no allies to back them up. ADA can count on the government for support for example. Add to that, Lucy and Poe from the Guild are practically unofficial members now. So how about the mafia? Is it possible that other port cities like Kobe and Nagasaki have their own mafia, and are affiliated with Yokohama’s Port Mafia? What about international ties? Knowing Mori, they should have built up a network of clients and freelancers, ones the executives or the mafia’s Intelligence Division could have called upon once it was clear Mori was in grave danger and that the enemy knows mostly everyone in their organization. Outside help, one which the enemy wouldn’t have suspected, would have gone a long, long way and would have at least messed up some of ADA’s plans.

In wanting to give the heroes some spotlight, Asagiri-san has forgotten that the mafia has just as much as stake as the agency, but are not fighting like it. They are old dogs who won’t learn new tricks, while ADA has this “adapt or die” mindset. They have smartly split up into two groups (or 3, if you count Ranpo by himself) to explore all the options that could save Fukuzawa’s life. It’s probably this difference in their way of thinking that for a “rival organization”, the mafia has become bland and underwhelming.

scanlation credit: Dazai Scans, Easy Going Scans