Annihilyza
â If she werenât a white whistle, she would just be a regular weirdo⌠â
Made in Abyss Independent RP Blog âLyza the Annihilatorâ
Semi-selective | Multi-verse Crossover-friendly | 20+ Mun
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@annihilyza
Annihilyza
â If she werenât a white whistle, she would just be a regular weirdo⌠â
Made in Abyss Independent RP Blog âLyza the Annihilatorâ
Semi-selective | Multi-verse Crossover-friendly | 20+ Mun
Blog | About | Rules

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Season 2 time...
Sets out snacks to tempt the new blood...Â
Come, come... Join us~
Assumption based off the muse: You workout semi-regularly?
send assumptions about the mun based off of the muse and iâll tell you if theyâre correct or not! || Answering
Ooof
I suppose I should find this a really flattering assumption, but boy howdy is it wrong. I'm healthy enough, but alas I must live out my fantasies of being a musclebound valkyrie murder milf through writing instead of hittin the gym and gettin swole....
Assumption bases off the muse: you like women
send assumptions about the mun based off of the muse and iâll tell you if theyâre correct or not! || Answering
Well damn, anon, you got me there. Who'd have guessed?
send assumptions about the mun based off of the muse and iâll tell you if theyâre correct or not!

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â i see every mark as something to be proud of, proof of all i survived. â[ SHOW ] for sender to purposefully reveal their scars for receiver to see [ SHOWN ] for receiver to purposefully reveal their scars for sender to see ((scar story sharing time!!))
scar related prompts
Various pits and marks could be seen along the muscular form of the warrior, his armor having been placed to the side for both maintenance of it, and the maintenance of his body. Fresh wounds appeared along side the ghostly pits, where blades and lacerations once were.
The most apparent ones stood out, the one across his left eye, narrowly close to losing said eye when the injury had occured.
With that he had waited to see hers, as was the exchange taking place.
"All I really have are scars, and souvenirs of who I was... And who I still am."
Lyza shirks off her jacket and the armored mesh underneath it so she display some of her own, pointing out some of the rougher scars scattered across the White Whistleâs body. For all of her reputation for obliterating her enemies, she rarely did so unscathed and a hard life of adventuring and fighting was written like a tapestry across hard-healed stripes of her otherwise smooth skin.
âIâm afraid I donât have any as obviously close to being impairing as across my eyes,â perhaps a few along her nose and cheeks, âbut a few of these were easily close to lethal. This one could have severed my arm, and when I got this one in my leg, I was sure I was going to lose it, if not to the bite than to the poison.â Thereâs a startling variety of shapes and formations, from teethmarks of vicious creatures, punctures, slashes, burns and blisters. The endless dangers of the abyss and itâs inhabitants constantly provided new forms of injuries, and surviving long enough to scar was never a given.
She nods with a knowing smile. âIâve always felt the same myself. Every one of these is proof that Iâve bested something that could, or should have killed me. Itâs a story of where Iâve been. Iâve learned to respect it in others, too.â
EXTENSIVE SCAR RELATED PROMPTSÂ
GENERALÂ
[ TOUCH ]Â Â for sender to trace one of receiverâs scarsÂ
[ TOUCHED ]Â for receiver to trace one of senderâs scars
[ DISCOVER ]Â for sender to see receiverâs scars for the first timeÂ
[ DISCOVERED ]Â for receiver to see senderâs scars for the first timeÂ
[ CARESS ]Â for sender to kiss one of receiverâs scarsÂ
[ CARESSED ]Â for receiver to kiss one of senderâs scars
[ SHOW ]Â for sender to purposefully reveal their scars for receiver to seeÂ
[ SHOWN ]Â for receiver to purposefully reveal their scars for sender to seeÂ
SCENARIOS
[ MEND ]Â for sender to treat receiverâs wound which leads to them having to remove an article of clothing resulting in revealing scars hidden beneath
[ MENDED ]Â for receiver to treat senderâs wound which leads to them having to remove an article of clothing resulting in revealing scars hidden beneath
[ BLUNDER ]Â for sender to walk in on receiver in a state of undress thus seeing their scars for the first time
[ BLUNDERED ]Â for receiver to walk in on sender in a state of undress thus seeing their scars for the first timeÂ
[ KISS ]Â our muses are having sex for the first time which then reveals senderâs scars to receiverÂ
[ KISSED ]Â our muses are having sex for the first time which then reveals receiverâs scars to senderÂ
[ BATHE ]Â our muses take a shower together and sender looks over receiverâs scarsÂ
[ BATHED ]Â our muses take a shower together and receiver looks over senderâs scars.Â
WORDS
â your scars are nothing to be ashamed of. â
â why do you hide your scars? â
â i see every mark as something to be proud of, proof of all i survived. â
â can i ask what happened hereâ how did you get this one? â
â sometimes i get these phantom pains i guess you could say. little aches and i find them oddly comforting. because my soul still hurts even if my body is healed. â
â i wish i could get rid of my scars. theyâre just reminders of everything i want to forget. â
â is it alright if i touch this scar?  â
â itâs okayâ you can touch it if you want. doesnât hurt anymore. â
â please donât touch it. â
â you donât have to tell me how you got it. i just wanted to see. â
â looks worse than it was. â
â i want to kill every person responsible for leaving you scarred. â
â i made sure the people who left marks on me wouldnât get the chance to do it again. â
â woahâ what the hell happened there? â
â you donât have to hide them around me. the scars are just part of who you are. and i like all of what i see.  â
â i donât really like letting people see them. â
â itâs okayâ honestly i forget theyâre there most of the time. â
"My first impression? Why is this pesky child speaking to me and how did she get on this private terrace?"
First Impressions || Accepting "What a way to meet, huh? I bet you musta been surprised to see a scraggly runt like I was back then."
"Good thing I've had plenty of time to make a new impression."
whatâs the first thing your muse noticed about mine?Â
tell me what it is about my muse that drew yours in. physical attributes, mannerisms, appearance etc.Â
RELATIONSHIP TYPES
Send one or more emojis ( + descriptions ) for the kind of ship/dynamic youâd like to write with my muse! ( for multimuses, please specify. )
ROMANTIC
â¤ď¸ committed, romantic relationship đ friends to lovers đ used to be together but broke up âŁď¸ skinny love đ slow burn đ one muse has a crush on the other muse đ mutual pining đ romantic relationship of convenience đŤ highschool sweethearts đ arranged relationship ( dating, engagement, political, etc. ) đ one-sided romantic relationship ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) đ¤Â lovers to enemies đ¤ enemies to lovers
SEXUAL
đ a sexual relationship that could turn romantic đ§Ą friends with benefits đ a sexual, non-romantic relationship đŠ sexual relationship of convenience đĽ unresolved sexual tension đ developing sexual relationship ( may include romance ) đ one muse approaches the other out of convenience ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) đŞ enemies with sexual tension
FAMILIAL
đŞ biological family đ¨âđŠâđ§âđŚ adopted family đ§âđ¤âđ§ family by choice/found family đŠâđ§ older/younger siblings đ twins đĽ cousins or extended family đŁ estranged family/feuding family đ¨âđŤ one muse is a teacher/mentor for the other muse ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) đ¸ coworkers like family đĄ family out of circumstance ⪠pretending to be family
PLATONIC
đ friendship đ queerplatonic partners ( an intimate, non-romantic committed relationship ) đ friends like siblings đ childhood friends đ§ friends due to traumatic experiences đ¤ coworkers â reluctant friends â enemies to friends đ developing friendship âď¸ friends of circumstance đ strangers working together â one muse works in service of the other ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) đ´ partners in illegal activities đŻpartners in crime trope ⥠sparring partners 𩹠friends forced to work against each other đĽ one muse makes a deal or contract with the other ( magic or non-magic. ) ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver )
ENEMIES
𦴠mortal enemies đ enemies âď¸ rivalry đĄď¸ one-sided rivalry/grudge ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) đ§ enemies as narrative foils đŹ enemies because of conflicting ideologies 𤍠one muse is secretly an enemy/traitor to the other muse ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) đ¨ one muse is using the other muse for their benefit ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) â guilty by association đŤ friends to enemies đŞ occupational enemies 𩸠enemies tolerating each other for a common goal ⍠enemies using each other out of convenience ⏠coworkers who hate each other

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s-r-a-j-oâ:
Where others might have found challenge in being outnumbered, Srajo knew, with a trust born of their unwavering belief in a fellow White Whistleâs abilities, that such circumstances were exactly the sort of trouble that gave Lyza her epithet. One would assume Lord Immovable, with her unparalleled physical strength, would be reputed for terminating invaders. However, the utter ferocity and proficiency in disposing of oneâs enemies has given the title of Annihilator to a delver who was truly worthy of it.
The tangy, metallic stench of blood overpowered the fragrance of wet earth. A thick moisture weighed heavy in the air, but the cold has yet to abate entirely. At the boundary between the Sea and the Goblets, the foreign raiders would all meet their gruesome ends. Srajo was a little impressed they managed to make it this far, but the implication that the group likely hunted and killed numerous Whistles along the way soured any sliver of respect they mightâve felt towards them.
The Obscure wasnât worried about Lyza, even as the cloud of poison grew in size and hovered. It wouldnât dissipate for several more minutes, plenty of time for their companion to catch and eviscerate the very few that escaped the clutches of a watery death. Their own brand of vengeance bestowed, Srajo stepped back to give Lyza a wide berth. They werenât concerned or afraid, but shrouded as they were, they didnât want to get in the way.
A poison of this magnitude took months to process, and even longer to collect the ingredients of. Perhaps they shouldnât have tossed all of their stash, but theyâd been quite miffed about getting shot. Now that the rare lick of fiery anger has waned, Srajo found themself feeling a bit sheepish. Keeping an eye on Lyzaâs progress, they made their way back to their suitcase. Once the gas settled to the ground, theyâd have to neutralize its effects so it left no trace.
Over the next few minutes, the signs of struggle escaping the increasingly thick and concealing cloud of gas began to taper off. The shadows of motion diminished, the choking and shouting were extinguished; occasionally punctuated by a scream of pain, the boom of thunder or shot, or the crack of breaking bone. And then without fanfare, they fell silent.Â
The fog parts with a slow gust as The Lord of Annihilation strides out of it, dragging the limp body of one of the largest raiders by his collar, his face beaten to a pulp and her spear still lodged halfway through his shoulder. Lyza herself was hardly unharmed having accumulated a smattering of nicks, tears, slashes and bruises across her body from either the occasional lucky hit- perhaps as a consequence of her own recklessness- but it was clear the victory was as decisive as it was quick and violent.
She unceremoniously drops the body against the rock Srajo had been hiding behind before, spitting out the bark and calling out for them. âClear!! 9 assholes, 9 bodies. I got âem all.â She takes the opportunity to slump down and look over her wounds while waiting for Srajo to reappear, wincing as she prods at them before reaching for her first aid kit. No wound was safe to leave undressed this deep in the abyss, even if they appeared minor.
She glances back at the body with a scowl, yanking her spear out with disgust and collapsing it back into her wrist guard. âThis fat fuck here mustâve been their leader. Sure seemed like the hardest bastard of the lot. Maybe something interesting in his kit; see if we can find out why theyâre here, what they grabbed. Who they iced on the way down. Or we could just feed him to the Piercers. Better fate than they deserve...â She grunts and exhales heavily as she relaxes, coming down from her battle-high as she looks around for Srajo to check on their friend and see how bad their injury would be.
unmovable-sovereignâ:
Something Ozen hasnât felt in years stirred within her, something she only ever felt around Lyza - the one person that came into her life and changed her irreversibly. Sheâd once harboured doubt whether it was a change to treasure, especially on lonely nights where the memory of golden hair stung with loss. However, now, with Lyza in her arms, that doubt was easily cast aside because of how right, how complete this felt.
âHaving you by my side as an equal used to surprise me with how intuitive it was. You always seem to know what to do. A look alone is enough.â Ozen murmured, tone entirely unlike her usual hollow, lazy drawl. She spoke gently now, and slowly stroked Lyzaâs hair - silken strands sheâs always adored.
Lyzaâs coy antics from before helped lighten the mood of an otherwise emotionally charged conversation. The aged White Whistle has grown tired of arguments and words carelessly spat like molten fire on raw wounds. She wanted to see Lyza smile, to watch those clear, bright eyes radiate with joy.
âYou know exactly how beautiful you are. You donât need me to point out the obvious.â She teased a little if only to soothe the blonde, a small moment of humour before tackling the main subject at hand. âWeâll have the ceremony youâve always dreamed of. Iâm fine with festive affairs if they make you happy.â Because if they did what Ozen preferred, there wouldnât be a ceremony, and even an old, jaded grump like herself recognized that was a terrible idea.
âI want to marry you too, and Iâm glad you returned. I think I had aâŚvisceral reaction to it because I wasnât ready to face you. You know how I am with abrupt change outside of delving.â Irritated at best, wrathfully stubborn at worst. âI want to be with you. Forever and always.â She murmured, echoing Lyzaâs words. âI will wear the rings you designed with pride.â Hunching forward, she kissed Lyza on the top of her head.
âMaybe I do... but Iâll never get tired of hearing you tell me it.â Lyza smiles and chokes out a rough laugh through her sniffling as she tries to rein in her overwhelmed emotions, the teasing and hair stroking having the desired effect and more. She takes a deep breath to steady herself and looks up at Ozen with eyes shimmering with dew, reaching out her hand to trace up her jaw and stroke at her skin.Â
Rough fingers brush across her lovers cheek with a reverent gentleness like what she was touching was something fleeting and ephemeral, that it could crumble under her touch or drift away like a waking dream and this was her last and only chance to feel it. That sensation had never gone away since theyâd been together, and she hoped it never would.. âAnd Iâll never stop telling you either, until you really believe how beautiful you are to me. Perhaps Iâll include that in my vows.â
âItâs okay... Iâll always forgive you, my love.â Ozen was hardly the only one that had made mistakes in their relationship. All the fighting and shouting, running and avoiding the problem. Never quite opening their hearts and looking right at the other. Lyzaâs thoughts drift back to that day long past, looking up at Ozen in the field of flowers, and how even back then sheâd given up so easily. If she had been more confident, if sheâd made Ozen believe, then maybe things would have been different.
âI just wish I could have proposed to you properly... That Iâd said the right words, or done the right things, and done them sooner.â But years had come and gone, they had drafted apart, and time and living had changed both of them. Sheâd left for the abyss and driven what she once had thought would be an irreparable rift between them. âNow, even the field of flowers is gone...â She finds herself mumbling out loud.
But now they were together again. There was still time, and there was love between them. Perhaps theirs wasnât a perfect love story, but it could still end in happiness. âIâve made so many mistakes, and I was never sure that turning back wasnât one of them. But this is one thing I finally know is right. That weâre making right together.â
âMy dreams arenât so lavish, dear, but it means the world to me that youâll help make them come true. I wonât push your comfort too far,â Lyza hums happily as Ozen kisses her head, and takes her loverâs hands, squeezing them softly with a smile. âJust a small ceremony in our new home, with our closest friends, pretty dresses, lovely rings, and as many eternal fortunes as we can find to plant in our garden. A happy memory we can share together for the rest of our time together.â
s-r-a-j-oâ:
Srajo knew they could simply sit back and let Lyza have her fill of bloodshed, but they were admittedly miffed about the bullet in their shoulder. Theyâd be satisfied with bringing down even one raider just to get their revenge. Lord Obscure wasnât known for being a combatant, and it was true that they preferred to avoid conflict, but when conflict came by way of a musket shot, they werenât going to back down.
If it werenât for the immediate necessity to treat their wound, Srajo wouldâve gladly watched Lyza in her element, fascinated by her relics and the vigor in her graceful rampage. They did take a moment to peek over the rock, reassured by the fact the invaders were far too busy with the Annihilator to pay attention to them. After a few moments, they ducked back down, and worked on smearing a handful of the powder onto their weeping injury. It managed to stall the bleeding for now, and that was enough for what they wanted to do.
Reaching inside their suitcase once more, Srajo took out three small, glass containers. Inside them was a purple, shimmering liquid. It looked quite pretty, like fluid, sparkling sand. Slipping them inside their pocket, they closed their suitcase - the seam disappearing, and redid the covering over their mouth before giving a short whistle. In an instance, they were shrouded, and they began to move, keeping an eye on where Lyza was to stay out of her way.
Strides long and silent, they closed in on the raiders. There was no fanfare to the acts of an imperceptible figure. Taking out the containers, they hurled them towards the invaders. Glass shattered. Purple liquid splattered across soil and rock, and began to sizzle. Within moments, massive clouds of smoke rose from the ground, and billowed towards the raiders. They encased the frightened raiders, fervent shouts quickly replaced by gurgling coughs and wet gasps.
It was an awful, agonizing death, having the water in oneâs bloodstream drawn out into the lungs. A dry drowning - the raiders began to vomit torrents of water as their bodies began to shrivel. Srajo stayed put and watched, studying the effects of their poison. At least the raiders made good test subjects. Srajo has only ever used Abyssal creatures for this particular concoction, and it seemed to work just as well on humans.
As Srajo begins their approach Lyza had gotten herself well and truly embroiled in the melee. 4 of the remaining delvers move to surround her and all attack at once, aiming to leverage their numbers against the lone woman and completely underestimating her ability to use their confidence against them. A sword swinging from the right is deflected with a quick strike of her spear in the same motion of twisting away from the maulâs overhead swing slams down into the earth from the opposite side.Â
Before the next unfortunate fool could even make his attack, Lyza was already springing forward and thrusting her spear with two hands straight into the ribs of a surprised axewoman who buckles over in a cough of blood as her lungs are punctured, loosing grip on her axe just in time for Lyza to loosen her grip and snatch it in a freed hand. Her waists twists as she steps into a throw, leaving her spear impaled in its victim as the axe leaves her hand as quickly as it entered and snaps through the air and cleaves into the other swordsmanâs skull.
The sudden sizzling and billowing of smoke bursts up from the ground just as Lyza began to move, and she steps back from the impaled woman, kicking her forward into the crowd to make space between her and the raiders. Her goggles snap down onto her face in a swift motion as her tongue pushes the strip of bark up from underneath it, biting down to protect herself from the gas with its bitter filter as instructed while the invaders shouted and choked. The effects were brutal, and even Lyza was given a moment of pause as she saw up close how gruesomely effective the airborne toxins were. The raiders sheâd already injured or unbalanced were helpless as their skin wept bloody sweat and their lips frothed with the fluid asphyxiating them from inside, and the few far enough to escape its immediate effects could only scatter in fear, scrambling to wrap their mouths and noses with scarfs and scatter to avoid suffering the same brutal deaths as their comrades. Srajoâs inventiveness impressed her; the level of violence they were able to inflict with their knowledge of alchemy and the abyssâs local toxins was severe when they were forced to apply it. Any normal delverâs instincts would scream for them to stay far back as readily as any other dangerous beast or hazard.
Lyzaâs instincts however saw prey that were completely helpless to defend themselves, and smelling blood in the water her body was already preparing to dive back in for the kill and finish them off.
ofadventâ:
It had been⌠several weeks since that fateful encounter with Nanachi and her friends. Damage assessments had been completed, including architectural, equipment, and personnel losses, and recovery and rebuilding could finally begin. What with the materials that needed transporting and the sheer amount of it that was needed, even with his supply routes it was taking time.
At least that time hadnât been spent idly. In addition to his ongoing experiments, heâd added investigating the limits and capabilities of his new body to the list. Resistance to poison, fatigue, illness. Enhanced strength, flexible claws that could punch through steel. The speedy regenerative properties heâd observed in Mitty were absent in him, unfortunately, but this was all a learning opportunity.
And then there was his sight. From the moment things had quieted after the fight, he realized he could see something drifting through the space, over and around everything. After days of observation, he came to the conclusion that he was SEEING the curse, the deadly energy that filled the Abyss. How fascinating. That said, he wasnât yet familiar enough with the ebb and flow of the force field to be able to pick up on Lyzaâs movements from so far out. In fact, paired with the preoccupation of his research and the repairs, he only picked up that she was there when he heard something unfamiliar on the ruined roof above.
âAh, the Sovereign of Annihilation,â he said, turning to look up at her as his remaining Umbral Hands slowed in their work. âI was wondering if I would get a visit from you.â
His form may have changed, but his mannerisms had not. White-furred arms ending in long claws spread wide as multiple eyes fixed on the Annihilator. For the moment, he ignored the questions directed at his appearance.
âIâd expect you would be most proud. All of this astonishing damage wrought by your daughter and her friends, as Iâm sure youâve already heard,â he said, his tail giving a pleased swish across the dusty concrete. âThey put up quite an amazing fight. Rico is well on her way to following in your footsteps, dear Lyza.â
No response? So Novel wasnât willing to share the results of his most recent alterations. Either that, or he hadnât discovered of all the effects himself yet and was keeping it close to his furry chest until he did. Something to pry into later, Lyza noted as she remained on guard and kept alert for his movements, harmless mannerisms or otherwise for whatever she could could clean. She wasnât expecting him to be hostile but there was no telling what kind of mood heâd be in after that kind of intense conflict. âSovereign of Dawn.â She nods curtly and returns the formal address, âAs you rightly shouldâa expected. No chance Iâd hear my girlâs done this kind of damage without coming to see for myself.â
âAstonishing's not the word Iâd choose, but itâs an apt one.â She gives an impressed whistle as she glances out over the ruins to survey the damage, appreciating the handiwork up close and subtly tallying up what was actually lost, âBut Iâd expect no less from my girl. Youâre damn right Iâm proud, it takes a lot to stand up to a White Whistle at an age like that. Especially a stubborn bastard like yourself. No offense, of course.â She smiles wistfully, her pride mixed with the distant loneliness of knowing that her beloved daughter had left her behind as surely as she once had, gaze lingering on the descent platform. Following in her footsteps rather literally, at that, but carving her own path to do it. A melancholic feeling.
Though, she wasnât especially intent on processing the emotional impact of her daughterâs victory and descent with the very enemy that had been defeated, even if sheâd been on better terms with him. She pulls her thoughts back and the conversation back onto the topic at hand and points the questioning back at her host.
âReg really let you have it though, huh? I was wonderinâ if theyâd hold back any, but I can only guess you left âem no choice. Must be a lot of damaged infrastructure around here. Lost research, personnel, relics...â
s-r-a-j-oâ:
Srajo gave their head a slight shake to indicate Lyza didnât need to apologize. After all, they were a White Whistle as well. They shouldâve been able to take care of themself, and thus, their injury was no oneâs fault but their own. [Iâll be fine. Donât worry.] They tried to sound reassuring despite the hastened speed of their signing. [Flesh wounds are common for us delvers.] That was true, but itâs been a while since theyâd had a wound that bled so much. They hoped the shot hadnât nicked an artery.
The Lord of Mystery was harder to take down than a lucky shot, however. While Lyza checked on their enemy, Srajo tugged open the covering over their mouth, and gave their whistle a quick blow. The seam on their suitcase appeared, and, using their uninjured side, they opened it in search for a vial. Inside the vial was a white powder, ground from various herbs and animal bones. It wouldnât help with the musket ball still lodged in their shoulder, but it would slow the bleeding.
Seeing the look of wrath on Lyzaâs features, Srajo was reassured of their situation. They had no doubt in their mind that Lord Annihilator of the Abyss would tear apart all whoâd dare invade the Netherworld and harm her fellow delver. Their heart fluttered a little at the nickname she gave them. Despite the pain and the blood loss, they felt a swell of warmth within their chest. It felt good to have a friend.
Just before Lyza was about to pounce, Srajo reached forward, and laid a gentle hand on her arm, a gesture to wait for a moment. Not wasting time, they took out a pouch in their suitcase, and produced a slim, small strip of bark to give to Lyza. [Put this in your mouth and breathe through it.] They smiled a little, the expression vaguely visible through the small opening in their mask. [Iâm a White Whistle too, Lyza. I canât simply sit here and watch you fight alone. This bark filters smoke and gas. Go on. Iâll be right behind you.]
Lyzaâs rage is momentarily blunted by a feeling of guilt at underestimating the Lord of Mystery, at underestimating her friend. Despite the deep respect she usually had for them, sheâd unconsciously taken to treating them like they were helpless in a crisis. Or perhaps, sheâd just begun to feel overly protective of those she was delving with. Unwilling to lose any more friends to to her own mistakes. But the empyreal drone of a true White Whistle stirred her senses, and seeing Srajo swiftly move to produce their own brand of resistance in the form of medicines, tools, and clever tricks reassured her. She grins as she takes the bark with a quick sign of [Thanks], and cracks her knuckles, thoughts back on the fight, but no longer disordered. Having successfully pissed off two White Whistles, these mercenary idiots didnât stand a damn chance. She gestures behind her to count down, and if not for the warning to expect it someone with slower reflexes might have missed Lyza begin to move at all. The first resounding crack is not a gunshot in retaliation, but Lyzaâs hand snapping to the opposite direction of her approach, hand crackling with a burst of concussive electricity as a combination of sheer force and magnetic propulsion send a Thunder Spar crashing into a rock face with a tremendous noise.
Before the first spear even lands, Lyzaâs halfway across the open ground, sprinting low and streamlined as she blitzes straight towards the greatest threats; her mind flicking across each of her opponents and scanning their weapons, their vitals, every motion as she selects her targets.Â
9 bodies; 4 rifles. 2 hatchets. 2 swords. 1 maul. 2 Gunners on the left, a third on the right, one center. The rest scattered throughout. She bends left towards the guns. Her wrist flicks and the air cracks with ozone again as another lightning-propelled spear streaks across the battlefield, with only a split second for the others to react as the missile impacts with itâs target to pin the rifleman to the wall through his ribs before the Annihilatorâs on top of them in close quarters with her iron-clad fist connecting with his wingmanâs jaw.Â
The sound of the gunwomanâs teeth and jaw shattering would be deafening if it werenât drowned out by the snap of concussion from her gauntlets as they discharge at point blank and turn a simple punch into a gruesomely deadly blow, or the snap of the distracting spear snapping back into her hand from distance with a magnetic hum, slashing through an swordsmanâs side as it passes and dropping him to his knees. The muskets crack from behind her as the others react with shouts, but the haze of combat feels like moving in slow motion to the bloodthirsty wolf feasting on them. She twists sharp and the musket ball slams into her armored wrist, electricity sparking to deflect it but shattering the ball into shrapnel that tears across her face in a crimson rake, splattering blood back through her hair as the second whistles past.
Her neck snaps back with the impact before slowly bending back up, accompanied by a rumble of her chest and dripping of blood down her face. The streaks of splattered red frame the delverâs savage, toothy grin as she lets out a menacing, dismissive laugh. The Lord of Annihilation stretches out her blood-soaked gauntlet and beckons slow and steady to the melee fighters while their gunners frantically reload. âShoulda killed me in one shot. Big mistake, cuz now itâs time to dance, baby.âÂ

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s-r-a-j-oâ:
In a blur of movement, Srajo felt Lyza dive away from the projectile. Air whooshed past their ears. The pain struck before they could make sense of their surroundings, unused as they were to being carried. The shot had left a ripple across the force field, the sensation disorientating. Srajo was reminded of their loathing towards illegal raiders as blood began to ooze from their shoulder. Thankfully, they hadnât been hit in the head or some other fatal spot, but they could tell the bullet hadnât punctured through, which meant theyâd have to dig it out later.
Great. They were an efficient surgeon, but that didnât make the task itself any more pleasant.
Shuffling to join Lyzaâs side, Srajo whistled to deactivate their relic, and promptly came into being next to their fellow White Whistle. Through their dark and many layers of robes, it was hard to tell colour, but the smell was unmistakable. They could feel blood trickling down their chest and along their arm. Hopefully, this wouldnât attract any predators, though it wouldnât be so bad for an Abyssal beast to make a quick meal out of the raiders.
Gingerly, breaths slightly quickened, Srajo shrugged off their suitcase with a wince before plopping down with their back against a large rock. [Sorry.] They signed, looking a bit sheepish. [I tried to warn you, but I forgot you couldnât sense me.] A silly blunder, now that they thought about it. [I think there are about ten of them. Maybe less. Would you like me to create a diversion? I can sneak up to them and smoke them out.]
Lyza herself smells as much as spots the blood as Srajo moves up next to her, and curses under her breath again in frustration at her own carelessness, even if it were induced by abyssal trickery. As much as she preferred to sign back to Srajo as a matter of respect, the tense situation lended an advantage to quick speech. âAbyss take them... no, Iâm the one thatâs sorry, Srajo. Between the curse and your relic, I couldnât even remember you there were. How are you wounds? Are you going to be alright?â
She glances over the rock again for their position as another musket shot crashes into the rock right beside her head and sends rock chips flying everywhere. âFuckers think have us pinned... I saw about that many as well. Some with firearms, some with swords and hatchets.â She runs over the numbers in her head, building a plan of attack and weighing their odds as she looks at Srajoâs wound. âI canât ask you to do that... youâre already injured, and they might not even have noticed you yet. Donât push yourself, Obscure.â She growls, frustrated at herself and feeling guilty that they still offered to help. She bares her teeth and the anger starts to show in her expression as she begins to look less like a bright and cheery woman and more a feral animal about to be unleashed. âDo as you must, but if worst comes to worst, I can handle âem myself. They donât call me Annihilator for no reason, Srajâ.â
âIâll show these fucking mercenary shit-lickers what happens when you cross me.â And what kind of pain I can inflict on them for hurting my friends. She nods to Srajo and prepares to move, moving to the edge of the rock and preparing to leap, spear at the ready, with another waiting to be released.
knightshonourâ:
The first assumption made by this young woman was that he was any sort of researcher eager to expand his knowledge of the dark. Truthfully, over his many expeditions and missions to eradicate the perpetuation of the dark, the only knowledge he actually utilized was how to better contain or destroy it.
He turned, peering down from his looming height at Lyza, clearly unfazed by the words of wisdom imparted upon him. If he were to die doing what he was doing, it would only be a fitting end for someone who had run from the dark in the past, when he shouldâve stayed to die fighting it off.
âThat âcuriosityâ has only lead to such things being used with malice. Iâm not going to let that continue.â With as much muscle he has on that body, and as much strength he has to even the odds, itâs unsurprising that heâs stubborn to an overbearing extent in his conviction.
âThe only knowledge I want to leave with, is knowing that itâs all gone.â
Lyza stares back up at Rowan and looks him in the eyes without flinching, long accustomed to being loomed over those taller than her, and even taller than him. She gives him a look of soft disappointment like a disapproving mother and shakes her head. Itâs not that she assumed he was a scholar exactly, but that to her, learning and fighting were one and the same, and she had always struggled to understand what drove those that fought blindly without knowledge as either munition or motivation. Fighting with a death wish however... she had complicated feelings about. Diving deep into the abyss was in itself asking for death, never able to return, but there was a key difference between accepting ones death and inviting it. âPretty grim outlook there, guy.â But in this world she had fallen into... she was only just beginning to understand the darkness looming over this land, and the knight she now spoke to more than most. She sighs and nods, accepting his resolve. âThere are some things each of us can never compromise on... and Iâve seen irredeemable evils done in my time with that power.â
Even so, Lyza felt there was always a chance for mastery to be used for any cause; not simply for good or ill. She hoped that remained true here. âIs this really a land that can only hope for destruction? Can nothing be saved?â