[Nexus] Outside XXXII

[Hattish Thing]

[Lake Lazuli]

On would think that between the draining of a lake, the transportation of untold people and materials, and the construction of a huge tower that a dome of silence and invisibility to try to hide it after the fact would be somewhat silly.

Obviously such an operation would be spied by the MagSat at the very least. Though whether or not Magtok would feel inclined to do anything with this information is another question completely.

But aside from the cyborg overlord?

Well.

Plenty of people are always lurking about waiting for a sign of another crazy venture. Another insane attempt to 'Take over the world!' or some such. In this case the lurking individual is a girl in a rather unnerving looking patchwork coat, a hood reminiscent of a beaked carrion bird extending past her face and leaving her features shadowed.

For the time being?

She's simply sitting on a rock outcrop some distance away.

Watching.

Waiting.

For what?

Only time will tell.

The young woman in the carrion bird mask will be able to notice the massive towers invisible bubble disappear. The cultists and Louv're Riot guards had already prepared for this possibility. The Serpentine Acolyte cultits, about 40 as a whole, are scrambling to a circular grouping on top of the tower, The Grandfather in the middle on a pedestal, overlooking the place. Mr. Brant had been speaking from the little office inside the tower. He dropped his little coffee mug when he saw the hole into Hell erupt. His glasses almost fall off his face, and the forty-eight year old engineer leader is making a run for the stairs down. He makes it down miraculously, and will start running across the place, screaming his head off...desperately running for the forest. He knew working for Marciano would be a test...but this was not in his contract! He'll run right up to the carrion-masked woman, and probably run right into her in terror.

Lazuli Lake

General Elshika wastes no time. As the explosion fades, she orders her spell-casters to begin. Glowing ladders materialize all around the hole, and the armies of Hell begin climbing them as if they were attacking a castle. Except with air support.

That's always nice.

The Grandfather begins to float in the air. He looks very much upset, though it's hard to look upset under a red and darker red robe of runes. Red runes float around his body, and the other cultists begin to move their arms wildly, as though readying a spell of some kind, the drill is lying right in the hole, so it would be rather hard to climb up it I think...Especially if it was turned on, which is exactly what the cultists are doing, soon the massive drill will begin to turn wildly and drill even deeper, bringing the assaulting demons down too most likely, however that's not for a while.

[Lake Lazuli]

A swirling cloud of red dust swoops down from the sky and hovers near the girl on the rock, twisting and writhing every which way.

"Waiting for the good part?" It hisses out, its voices oily and sinister. Not that it particularly needs an answer from MHF. The good part was the only reason to be here today.

Off course, he'll see Head Professor Brant flailing wildly too.

Lazuli Lake

In the 6th circle of hell, war is a big deal. It is The Big Deal, in fact. Lots of devils want to make their marks on it, something that will be remembered forever.

One in particular has succeeded. It may not be the most amazing tactition, the most ruthless general, but all who know what it is want to know where it is at all times.

The Hericlax.

No one knows where it came from. No one knows whose side it's on. No one knows what it really wants. No one knows why it sings.

Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.

A single tentacle, a black that pulls in light, segmented armor, with a sharp drill tip on the end, emerges from the ground, a good ways away from the tower.

Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.

Three more tentacles come up. Each one is easily a hundred meters tall. The ground is rumbling, a deep doom, that makes most mortal hearts tremble in fear.

Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.

More of the great tentacles breach the ground, forming the points on a nine-pointed star.

Don't you love farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.

A great body, like the body of a squid, emerges from the ground next to the drill. It is made out of the same black, unforgiving substance. Nine eyes, huge, stare out of it: solid burning balls of doom.

Don't bother, they're here.

The Grandfather had been instructed by Marciano to not give up the site. That hadn't seemed to be such a problem....everything was going great. He could easily blast a few ships, and clog up the opening to the lower plane. Then, the spirits would be sucked up by the magic of his cultists. Then, some strange thing appears out of the hole...Tentacles of inky blackness, massive...The Grandfathers smirk faded just a little...this would be...interesting.

[Lake Lazuli]

"There is no part of this that will be good," Raven replies to the swoopy red dust, her tone as dark and cold as the Styx. Her attention never pulls away from the empty patch of air above an equally empty lake in the distance. "It is my hope that my services will not be required here. We shall see."

Raven figures the big swarm of devils will probably be able to handle things.

Big swarms of devils are fairly decent at that sort of endeavor after all.

I mean...

Seriously?

Digging into hell?

Herpaderp Marciano is genius.

[Lake Lazuli]

"Hmmm... perhaps the word I'm looking for is delightful. Or exciting." Good probably isn't the right word for it.

"Do you wish to take bets on how many souls and devils escape their prison today?"

Cause, you know, when there's a gaping hole to hell, that's the first thing that should be done. Bets.

Lake Lazuli

Oh, I wouldn't say the invisibility dome was entirely useless. Some organizations aren't lucky enough to have constant surveillance on the whole Nexus or Raven's bizarre knack for just being around whenever important stuff happens.

At the very least it's managed to thoroughly confound Excelsior's agents, who've only had the crudest directions to the project and might never have found it at all, were it not for the hellfire and brimstone lighting the place up like infernal fireworks.

Of course, it's a bit late to go through with operation 'Kidnap some scientists and steal the drill' now, so they must be content to merely observe the carnage from a nearby hillside, laughing to each other with destructive glee each time something's destroyed in a particularly spectacular manner.

Pleasant Meadow

Meanwhile, miles away in a peaceful little meadow, flanked on all sides by steep hills, a second assault is gearing up.

Two portals tear their way into existence here, interrupting the frolicking of the cute little woodland critters and sending them fleeting for their lives in all directions. A scaly green hand grips the edge of the portal, followed by an equally green leg thudding down into the dirt, then finally with tremendous effort Markus pulls his full bulk through the rift, tilting his ugly reptilian mug upwards to sniff the air for the scent of hidden watchers.

Finding none he steps aside and Day follows him through the portal with somewhat less difficulty, proceeding a half-dozen Einherjar soldiers marching through in full battle-gear. At the same time the other portal spits out four masked and armored battlemages, floating weightlessly through the air with a bevy of mechanical components and curved metal plates hovering along beside them.

On cue they all begin to work, riveting and assembling in an eerie silence broken only by the dully monotonous hum of their tools, even the birdsong gone from the air now with all the merry little featherbrains scared away. Within a scant thirty minutes their job is done; A crude artillery cannon has been built in the center of the meadow, a wide barrel of matte gray propped up at acute angle by struts driven into the ground. The ammo lies beside it, a large store of boulders accumulated from the surrounding areas via Markus's immense strength.

Everything in readiness, Day, Markus and the battlemages depart in the same way they arrived, leaving the soldiers behind to defend and load the cannon.

Well, the big dome fades away, revealing the giant tower built around the drill. There's cannons built into the towers battlements, and riot soldiers with the Marciano "L" rush towards their battle formations. The cultists are at the top of the tower, in a circle, with The Grandfather flying above. The soldiers are readying to fire at the bizarre Hellish Kraken thing.

[Lake Lazuli]

If you took a list of Marciano's stupid ideas and listed them all from least stupid up to most stupid... well, it's be a pretty gorram long list. Legions of court scribes would have to labor for decades under the lash of whips and the pain of death to even begin to scratch one out. The Great Wall, the Pyramids, the Hanging Gardens, the Colossus of Rhodes, each of these great structures would pale in comparison to such a list. It would be a true marvel of human engineering and accomplishment, a list to populate the great myths and legends birthed from our time, a list to be sung of and worshiped, a list to be feared.

Sadly, such a list does not exist, and may, in fact, never exist. But if it did, drilling into mother****ing HELL would probably be the capstone of such a list.

At first the results of such a feat would seem slightly disappointing. A small, whimpering sput of air, slowly hissing out of the hole like dry air out of a particularly decrepit balloon, bringing with it an overpowering odor of sulfur and sex. And then nothing. And then the noise.

The hole begins to glow with fierce white light, bringing with it the hellish screams of pain and torment, the crumbling roar of splitting earth, the terrible echoing growl of the wrathful lion amplified across a dozen universes, the unrelenting beat of a thousand drums, the crash of waves against jagged rocks, the howling of slavering, starving wolves, the blazing crackle of a billion forest fires, the piercing cry of a trillion hunting eagles, and somewhere, buried under all that, the timid, terrified squeak of a mouse who has just spotted a rather large shadow swooping over it.

The ground rumbles, and the hole begins to spew fire and lava, scorching missiles of heat and destruction which might ruin the days of anyone standing too close to the giant hole into the gorram Nine Hells. Thirteen great bolts of fire leap forth, each one exploding in glorious ecstasy into the massive gleaming form of a great bronze galleon, soaring through the sky on sails of woven gold, and jet engines run on souls and Hellfire. At the prow of one such galleon stands the noble form of General Percival Heatherington-Smythe Cumberbatch the Fifth, looking mighty fine in his crisp black uniform and tall peaked hat with a skull on it. Behind him the forces of the First and Sixth circles of Hell stand in wait.

General Percival Heatherington-Smythe Cumberbatch the Fifth eyes the scene, the tips of his great bushy mustache quivering slightly as he runs his gaze across the great tower holding the drill. Slowly, ponderously, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small golden pocket watch, taking note of the time, then turns to his three aides.

"Lieutenant* Wynneth, please inform General Elshika of the Sixth that she may begin the assault as soon as she wishes. Lieutenant Luxora, signal the Commanders of the fleet to bring their boats about and lay cannonfire down on that tower. Sky-Skiffs and flying Clockworks to provide air defense if necessary. Lieutenant Yulia?"
General Percival Heatherington-Smythe Cumberbatch the Fifth pauses for a moment, stroking his mustache contemplatively with his gloved fingers.
"Release the Hericlax."

(*Pronounced left-tenant, for Americans and others of ill-breeding.)

Yeah, that list would probably never be completed...It is never a good idea to have a psychotic half-ling with Napoleon Complex in a place of high power and explosives...that combination just breeds stupidity...and further explosions. The Grandfather laughs at the little sput of air, expecting something more awesome-worthy.

Then, the noises start out. That was when the Grandfather disrupted the invisibility dome. The ground rumbled, and Mr. Brant made his run. Guards began to rush to battle formations, and Serpentine Acolyte Cultists readied the circle.

Then, galleons exploded with light. The Grandfather's face pales a little...ooh...they weren't expecting the whole fleet. Well, he'd take down a few. If they could somehow end up using the drill energy to power an attack...he'd end up blowing everything up, but...eh. He never really did like Marciano that much. He still orders his cultists to cast though. He speaks out, his voice magnified, giant red and purple runes flying about him.

Bahahaha! Welcome, fleets of Hell! I am the manifestation of all Black Magic! Bow to me! The Grandfather didn't actually expect them to listen to him...he wouldn't. Instead, he'll quickly cast a spell, a large purple dome will circle him and his cultists. Then, he'll shout out. Send your beasts! WE have the technology to equal the gods! Then, the tower cannons will fire down at the Hericlax. All fifty four of them, hopefully the bursts of lightning coming from the cannons will harm the beast.

Construction workers and scientists run about on the ground, trying to get as far away as possible, some even getting tot he force from Excellsior.