The Konvergence: Last Hellhunt of the Nehellenium

[sahasrahla]

fukk yea spinning dragon dude

[Bookwyrm]

(Recommended Listening:)



Quantumstalker Colette: E̪͖͎̤͚̞̭̫̭̹̜̮̘̹̘ͅn̺͔̥̞͕̘̮͉͎̙̤͓͕̫͙̝o̪͕͉̞͚̬̠̳̬̫̩̺̮̼͍ͅu̲͈̯̦̝̖͙̳̟̩̘̖͍ͅg̙̭͕̗̮̪̲h̞̳̞͖̳̘͉̮̘̫͓̱ ͔̹̜̺̦̗͇̭̳̻̫̥̭̝̭͓o̟̗͈̩̜̙̖̪̻̣̼̱̥̭̭̗͙̣ͅf̗̦̙̠̺ ͓̠̥̞͈̥̳͎̬̣̝͇̣͙̥̫͎t̫̘̬͍͖͔̩̳̻̺͇̳̝̠̬̙ͅh͎̝͕͕̟̪̲̩̝ͅi̹͉̘͕̮͍̻̺̟̤̪̲̲͔̥̯͈s̳̫̖̤ ̖̭͉̮͓̞͚͕̻̟͓̫͚̩͈f̝̞̞̜̟̞̲̘o̱̫͎͓o̥̩̖͖̜̥͙̭̠͎̳̮̗͉͇̫̼̰l̦̪̥̤̮i͓̭̼͕͖̲̖̝̜̰̳͍̜͈͈̜s̙̣͙͓̯h̞̰̦͓̙͚̖̖̘̱̮̹͇̖̝͎̘ͅͅn͖͍̱̼̣̗̤̯̙e̠͎̬̖̞̙̝̝̲̮̩̩̗̺̟̝̥ͅs͈̜̥s̮̼͈̬͎͉̠̠̦͍̣̲͍̯̜ͅ!̳̦̤͉͓͈̣̱̘͈̱ͅ ̭̬͖͔̜̥͉̤̳̖B̖͈̲̯͓̥̱̹-͖̱̰̤̤͖̼̟̜͕̫̻̠̼1̫̜̟̤̠͙̖̖0̪̺̼͈̪͚̖̤̖̳̰̗̟̞̞̯̱̲0̳̪̣̬̼̠̮̯͚͉̫0̠̘̝̜̳͇̘͖͎̜̖̥̞͕͇͚͔̙ ͚͙͈̲̪͕͎͕̟̹̱̩̳̬ͅU̩̗̘͖̫̰̹̳͍̘͉̞̩̻̗̳ͅn͔̙̼̬̠͔̩̣̖̫͖͈͔̮͉͎̙ͅi͈̜̥̩͍͕͇͇̭̹̬t͍̻̳̘͉̫̯̙s̼̖̯̩͎͖ ̲̺̩̯̬̱a͖̦̦̙̠̘̼͔̲͙d̲̳̥̪͍̮̫̪̪̭̩̼͍̮͕̮̦̭ͅv̻̘̖̻̠̰̦̳a̹̬̗͕̗̼̙n̦͎̥̱̹͚̞̘c͍̺̬̝͉̰e̪͉̣̣͙̱̠̠!̹̳̠̹̱̜̼̣͔




Shapeshifting Blokbot Blokkelgangers appear at the Horseman’s call, morphing their limbs into blades and piercing implements.



The makeshift fighter veers off to accomplish the task given by GGE Command, firing a few warning shots past the cockpit of the Cerberus.

Cerberus Pilot: Uhhh is this guy for real?

Cerberus Gunner: Yyyyepp, he’s really trying to take us down. Switching targeting systems to the eyesore now.




Auric: Fiendish Horseman! Your plotting will not come to fruition and you and your ilk shall burn!

*kaBLING!*

The emperor leads the laser master charge into the thick of the battle with Stability, flexing his chromed pecs and focusing a reflected beam of sunlight into a deadly ray to fry the Blokkelgangers. They are set ablaze by the ray of heat.




Loremaster: Conjuration Warp!

More Axeleron reinforcements appear, heavier firepower in the form of a Crae nation Spider Tank.




With an explosion the Valkyrie fighter goes down and the pilot bails onto a passing dieplane, kicking its original operator to the ground with one solid blow to the cranium. She wastes no time in shooting down another dieplane, sending it into a nosedive.




The Vinculus Iustitia begins reeling in its quarry, not noticing the charging Farce wielders until its too late.




Much like its dead master, the construct finds itself lying face down on the ground in pieces, its marble and chain limbs clattering as it collapses into rubble.




Officer Leia: Thanks for the assist boys! Now to do something about these wimps with swords and sticks!




*pchooooo*




Galeo takes refuge behind his broad tower shield, but his pawns, however, are less quick to react and fragment into a cloud of granite dust.




Meanwhile, over at the Nega-Sphinkter, the sloped noggin of Frobo the Swaggins pops out of the brown pool.

Frobo: haHA hi guiz im back!, theres reely not allot u can do to ackshually kil me XD




Invigorated by the reappearance of his dark lord, the Holidaemon redoubles his efforts to deal a blow to the Laser Kat Koalition.




45th Union Commander:




The Horseman Hunter screams overhead and bombards the Phantom Tollbooth with laser fire, but the ethereal energies of the structure hold up supernaturally well.




The Seagull, now completely under the control of Koalition forces, limps its way through the portal carrying a payload of ground troops.




The gunner on the back of the Wombat fumbles his weapon, the heavy machine gun splashing into the rancid muck of the Sphinkter.




45th Union Gunner: Ahhhhhhh SHIT, I’m not touching that thing again.

Frobo the Swaggins: ooooo don't mind if I doo...doo lol.




Black Alien Guy: I’ve had just about enough of that literal shit-eating grin on your stupid face. Didn’t I just say to GET. BACK. IN THE FUCKING. ASSHOLE.




Frobo the Swaggins: bother




*S P L U T*

The Sphinkter, not made for two way trips, sucks the little man back inside with a gurgle…

*Schluuuuuuurrrrrr…*




*...rrrrrrRRRRP!*

...And spits him out through the nearest portal, all the way at the other end of the battle realm.

Mini-Golfer: What the f-




Despite the spectacular execution of the stray Dungan, the Assyrians and 45th Unioners can’t allow such a dangerous beast to continue rampaging so close to them.

Assyrians: For the Major!




The Master Builder Primus finally arrives.

Master Builder Primus: I have the artifakts with me! Clear a path to the Nexus, we must re-unite these with the Chosen One!




An Attendant refugee takes the place of their leader in his switch-fighter to provide air support.




Master Builder Primus: Now! Stand together against the armies of Ruin! Unite the Spectrum!

DSMBs: Unite the Spectrum!




Invigorated by their leader’s presence, the smattering of refugee spacemen pulls together for a forward assault.




The remaining rules lawyers are blown to smithereens by combined fire.




Dr. Kalcium, not content with the doots of his cousin’s bugle, unleashes a mighty *BLAT* and knocks several Immortal troopers flat on their asses with the noise, the nearby skelebois cheering him on.




Warhead: Hey, Skeltal, come on dude, stop hassling my men for fucks sake. From one ossum bone-boi to another?

Mr. Skeltal: If you think you’re so ossum, you gotta do something to prove it, can’t just talk all the time!

Warhead: What in the hell are you talking about?? I’m motherfucking WARHEAD bitch, I eat ossum for breakfast! I’ve conquered thousands of star systems and boned tens of thousands of moms! I am the literal incarnation of Ossum itself!

Mr. Skeltal: Maybe that’s true! But! Can you defeat me… IN A DANCE OFF??




The two skeletal figures break into a frenetic dance routine, jiving to the sounds of battle all around them. The diemons seem to favor this course of action, for neither can overtake the other in a one-on-one fight.




The dance-off is moved to the front porch of the Four Rums, and each competitor gets the help of two back-up dancers for their routine. A GGE regular is pulled aside to judge.




Bone Bois: Cuz this is FILLER! Filler pics! And when you fuccbois lose we’re gonna hit you with our sticks, cuz this is FILLER!

Immortal: Shit!




The legionnaire falls from the railing and tumbles down the Hill as Warhead glowers down at him, shaking his head in disgust.





Bone Bois: Filler! Hee hee!

Warhead: I’m surrounded by idiots.

GGE Regular: Mr. Skeltal and his bois are the winners!




The entirety of the remaining Immortal forces flop to the ground in abject shame.




Kastrenzo: Nice going Warhead! Maybe next time you can pick an easier contest, like knitting!

Warhead: You shut the fuck up, who’s side are you on anyway?! I don’t see your ass up here twerking some sense into these fuckers!




With a flutter of wings and a dusting of glitter, Arch-Fiends emerge from the Sapling of Surrender’s shady boughs.




Truceass: Heyyyy ork dudes… so we’re like, conducting a buyback program? So if you give us your guns, we’ll like… kill you quickly and painlessly?




The Brootalz respond in the only appropriate manner to such a query; with uproarious laughter and mockery. Until one of the warboiz goes to gesture with his pistol…




Truceass: Ha, joke’s on you, like it was even a request.




The Portal Beest’s attached gunpod shoots the rogue dieplane out of the sky, and the pilot barely manages to survive the crash.




Warboi 1: Hey! Wait why did da gunna shoot dat plane down, she’z oneuv ourz rite?

Warboi 2: Can’t be dood, she wuz shootin at da otha dieplanez! She’z wit da Jee-Jee-Eee fellas!

Warboi 1: You shure? She’z pretty green-lookin!




More of Grimjaw’s host surges onto the battlefield, spreading khaos and carnage in their wake despite the loss of a Warmanager and other assorted ground troops.




The War-Wreks, kept barely under control by a BlackRock Black Mage, lets out an earth-shattering roar, and the nearby Brootalz respond with bellows of their own.




Grimjaw: YOU FUGGIN NERDS BETTA RUN! IF I CATCH DA GIT WHO SHOT MY WARMANAGER ILL--



Grimjaw: --whoopzee.

The colossal bawss turns and heroically trips over the wreckage of a downed dieplane, sprawling like a dead fish.




Mr. Skeltal: Hoohoohoo, you dance like a meatbag with a pair of jumper cables on his bollocks! Warhead? More like BORE-HEAD!

Bone Bois: Bore-head! Bore-head! Bore-Head!

Warhead: Once we get through this Konvergence thing I’m going to come back to Medivo again and kill all of you from orbit.

Kastrenzo: At least I got my chicken back...




Pvt. Barnes: Please… I’m literally begging someone to come get me down! Just send one backup dancer over! LITERALLY BEGGING YOU!




The Nexus once again sends out a wave of dark energy as it grows in size from devouring more broken chaff from the old world, and Blueguy concentrates, directing the surge on the Beer Cache below him.




The harmonic tremor triggers a flash somewhere across the battlefield, and Devincp appears outside a TARDIS.

Devincp: Whoops, excuse me chaps, just passing through!

Not-The-Doctor: No problem guvnah! Sick bowtie!




Frobo the Swaggins: oh HIIIIII frend! Do u know da wae bak to da Kenvergens???

Devincp: …Nope. Just nope.

Frobo the Swaggins:

Devincp: Hey Doc! Mind if I bum a ride back to the apocalypse?




Overwatch’s Head: Guys, were running out of time here! we need more Quantum Surfers! Everyone focus as hard as you can and believe in the heart of the beer! We can bring them back! Say it! “I believe in the heart of the beer!”

Kastrenzo: I’ve heard dumber shit today.

Overwatch’s Head: SAY IT!!




All: I believe in the heart of the beer! I believe in the heart of the beer!

Falk rises out of a portal, DBT sword gleaming.




He glances up at the utter pandemonium, then at the beer and circle of chanting Far-Ums residents.

Falk: ...You’re all morons.




The Wyrd Sisters: The first of three, the day is done! But longer still ‘till battle’s won!

[Bookwyrm]

(Recommended Listening:)



The konverged corners of the shards begin to slowly cycle around and around, swirling into the pulsing ebony eye of the Singularitatem, the world spinning around it. The strange tendrils of interfering humans begin to manipulate the battlescape for the second phase of the battle.




As if in response, more Hodgepodge Militia forces pile onto the playing field, backed up by an absolute unit of an armored personnel carrier.




A squad of more heavily armed figs charges the Traveling Company front line, backed with a few stray Brootalz that seem to have met up with the Hodgepodge forces en route to the raging konflikt.




The front of the APC undocks and becomes an armed shuttle, providing cover for the other squad of troopers accompanying the group.




Almost like it is aware it has been made obsolete, the Plane-Nosed Carrier unceremoniously crumbles into scrap. None of the Hodgepodge forces seem to mind much.




Kaptain Wheelhead reloads the railgun with a payload of TNT, and he and Arsenal Knight maneuver around the collapsed carrier to position themselves for another bombardment.




The heavily armed medieval guardsman lets a hail of rockets fly towards the Cerberus. While not all shots hit their mark, some do.

Cerberus Gunner: We’re getting boxed in here by makeshift konstruktions on either side!

Cerberus Pilot: Steady…




The rest of the 45th Union appears to have their priorities in order, as an infantryman scores paydirt near the now ruined Dew Factory.




Quantumstalker Colette reaches *extremely* deep into the well of Ruinous power granted to them by the mantle of Horseman, and comes up with a few Official Ducks.

Quantumstalker Colette: W͎̳̮̬̭e̲͖̤̰̫̝͓̲̪̜̗͇̘̯̲͙ͅͅl̰̯̬̙̫͓̯͇̦̞̪̖͇͈̮̗l̘̞̩̗̳̯̜̻̻̬͎̲ͅͅ,̪͓̭̺͚̮̞͎̰̰͎ ̳͇͖̯̱͔͉̙i͎͉̲̺̦̰̘̜̠̞̳t͉̟͈͈̞̦̝̳͍͈̦͙’̹͕̼͖͓͙̼̟͍̝̰̟̭͇̖s͕̼̮̱̪̝̱̭͙ ̣̫̭͍̰͓b͓͙͍̙̝̪̯̬̙͚͚͔ͅe̪̻͚͕̗̜͖͓̥̜̯͍̤͕̙̦͕͍̤ṯ͉̠͓̦̤͎͖̭͓̺̝t̯̥̩̠͍̩̜̙̫̯̰̺̬̮͎̪e̱̥̥̪͔̖̻̬̘r̲̤̹͚̘̹̜̩̹̟̝ ̻̻̩͕̫͇͕̜̫̰̹̙̘̯t͎͔̩̙̮̬͖̯̣̤̪̰ͅͅh͙̻͔͖̯͉͕̝̪͍a̱̩̠̬͈̭͚̹ͅn̯͈͚̲̤̳̠̹̯͕̠ ̝̬̘̳n̮̖̙̖̮͔̯̺̬̹o̺̮̲̻̙̲̝ͅt͚̳̺̲h̥͙̹̗̱̯̦̭̘͈̰͔͍̠͕̜i̻̬̼̬̱n̰̣̻̫͇͙̙̙͓̻͙̫ͅg͓͍̘̘̹͕͕̺ͅ ͔̯͓̤̭͍̮̤̼̟̗͇̰͙̫͉͖̻a̫̺̞̜̬̙͚̻̼̳̘̫̳̜̝̘̪̠t͖͔̻̖͖͖̯̼͔̖̯̭̘͕̖̞̺̱ ̜̯̜̰̻͓̰̖̜a̤̣̖͓ͅl̥͇̰̘̞̗̺̣͖̗̰l̝̯̭͍̠͕̠̟͈͕̱͔̲̱̹͉̞͓̲ ̩̭̼̭̹̥ͅI̫̹̦̭͉̠͉̱͇͚͎̣̗͈̱͓̭ ̞̫̳̮̰̱͇͙̲g͖̬͚̜̙̙ṷ̞̜͎̤̫̜͙̦͍͓̳̠͚̺̟ͅe̞̪̘͇̮̘s̜̣̯̗̞͎͓͓͉͖̬͍̹͔̪ͅs̗̰͓̮̗͕̟̠̠̗̗͓̟͕…̳̪̺̣̖͉̦̠̙̦̰͎̘̗͉




The Blokkelgangers attempt to extinguish the flames covering them, and are more or less successful, although the front B-1000 still smells of burning ABS.




Their small victory is short lived, however, as GGE bikes finally make their way around the Hill and flank Colette and their minions.




Duck: Qwack. <Translation: Are you kidding me? I dedicate my whole paycheck to our lord and savior, Rayhawk of the Brikwars Patreon, and this is the thanks that I get? Wack.>

**ACHIEVEMENT GET**
Advanced Fodder: Die within two photos of being summoned.




The laser masters encircle the Blokkelgangers menacingly.




Quantumstalker Colette: I̖͔̹̦̬̳̫̙͉̰̹̤̞n̝͚̘͈̝̺̭̬̟̩̩͈ͅi͔̠͎ṯ̦͓͎̝͕̳ͅi͙̱͔̱̟̼a̭̲̖̰͙͈̼̣͖̬̠͚͚̳t͔̺͍̯e̦̭̘̙͖ ̜̩̮͖͙̼͚̙̪̤͙͈̫̜̩̜͚͕s͖̺̹̩͚̜̳̝̖͔̜͍ͅe̫̳̺̻͍̞̺̭̖̭̲͇̠̟l͓̥̹̹̻̮̹̥̖̩f͈̪̯̗͇̯̙͕̭̩̯̮̤͈̻ ͔̦͈̯̳d̦͇̺͇e̥̲͖̜͉̻̗̻͍s̺̜͖̟͙̬̱̜͈̬̳͍͍̳͔̗͉̼t̫̜̥̹̲̳̻ͅͅr͎̪̜͉̜̻̖̦͎̗̲͇̘̭͚̼̲u̼̣̫̪͖̻ͅc̱̲̩̲͇̘̣̱̱̥͎͕̝͙̗̦̭̲͔t͎̯̟͙̹̤ ̳̖͔̣͓̝̱̠̮̤s͓̻̙̣̩̜̪̠͓̘̪̻ẹ̤̯͕̖̥̞̳̼͍̙͕q͚͚̮̩̼̪̻̭̻̪̲͍̰̫̼̟u̝̺̫̥͓̲̯̱ͅe͔͎̯̭͓̻͉̠n͎͇̺̟͈͖̘̻̭̦͕͎̬̗c͕̺̲͚̲͍̭̱̯̘̤̱̠̺̲̙̭ͅe̪̥̞͍͈͉͖̗̻̦̤̜!͓̦͈̞̠̰̯̣͍͙̠̰̰̜͍̜̤ͅ




Laser Master: You know we can hear you, right? We’re standing right here.

Concentrating their Farce powers, the laser masters combine might to scatter the bots to the winds.




They explode harmlessly into base ABS components far behind the mounted golden emperor and his Legit-Eye Knights.




Emboldened by the heroics of their leader and his duel with the Quantumstalker, the rest of the Grand Galactic Empire ground forces surge forward and capture the Four Rums. There is little time for drinking, but some of the regulars manage to sneak a few drinks on their way through.




The Koalition and several of their war machines get a few good shots off on the GGE tank and take off in hot pursuit.




Bookwyrm: Now! For Medivo! For the Plot! For all castle realms! Forward!

Kommander Ken: BROOTA- I mean, FROSTBOOOOOOOORNE!




The squad of Wyrdrwood troops rushes to smite the CLOan menace from existence, and the Sprite Beastmaster sets his faery hounds on the foul thing.




The Men of Frostborne move just into range of the Phantom Tollbooth, eyes wide taking in all of the pandemonium of the multi-dimensional battlefield.




They manage to take off a chunk of the roof with combined arrow fire, although one hapless soldier drops his bow.




Under fire by the thorns of the Green Knight, teeth of the hounds, and prodding pike of the boggan, the Kreepo NegaTron keels over unceremoniously.




With a flash of energy, more Traveling Company reinforcements arrive, accompanied by another party of adventurers, the Eminent Nimrods, known across Avross for their successful Crystal Vision series “Monster Manuel” and led by the series star, monster wrangling rogue Manuel Deddarm.




Manuel: Hey, do you hear something?

[Bookwyrm]

(Recommended Listening:)



The landscape rings with the sound of electric guitars and drum beats as a form even larger and more imposing than the Wreks lumbers into view; a colossal platform shooting columns of flame and carrying a whole host of Brootalz and Bawss Cyberscythe. Mammothra has arrived.

Lead Brootlez Singer: YEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Welcome to Konvergence! Welcome to Konvergence, wontcha bring me to yah, shanahnahnahnhanhanhanhaneez, kneez!




Broorista: Awwww yehhh, dis mah jammmmm! *headbanging*

The Sprootalz all collectively bob up and down on their stalks to the groove of the music.




More GGE Air Force zooms over the heads of the Brootal infantry, the soldiers below only getting off a few shots as the Valkyrie and Chickadees scream through the sky above them.




The Truceass gets the smug sugar-skull grin wiped off his face as the de-gunned warboiz remind him of the salient fact that swords are just as deadly as pistols if you’re close enough. The Arch-Fiends try in vain to revive their comrade in disarms.




Warboi 2: I’m tellin u guyz shez onea dah enemeez, I don’t givea ratts ass if shez green!

Warboi 1: Alrite alrite, but if youze turns outta be wrong den you get ta be da one ta tell da Big Bawss dat youze blew up da laydee.

Warboi 2: Fair enuff lol




*ka-BLOOIE!!*




More Brootal Gunnaz pour fire onto the fighters over their encampment, shot after shot splashing against the hull of the lead Chickadee.




It finally goes down and explodes into a giant fireball, a cheer going up from all the ork warriors.




More warboiz, accompanied by the Portal Beest raining down cover fire ahead of them, charge to meet the Imperial and Koalition forces emerging from the gateway.




The Centurion falls to the onslaught of strikes with blade and bayonet just as it steps out of the eye of the portal.




Another GGE mechanic creates a scrap fighter out of the remains of the Arctic Expeditionary transport.





45th Union Soldier: Sir! Do we shoot the Imperial craft, or at the orkish hordes??

45th Union Officer: If you’re not shooting at literally everything that moves right now, you’re doing it wrong, soldier.




Crusher Cyberscythe: Grimjaw! You iz a brainless imbesile if you think dis all-out assault has any hope of defeatin our numerouz enemiez! Give up now an let me lead da horde, and I will leed us ta victory! You can stay on az my advizer or somefin!

Grimjaw: Not a chance ya stoopid liddle fugg!




The crippled Seagull finally crash lands as it careens through the portal, and the USA Hero ejects out of the exploding cockpit, spraying bullets as he flies forward.




Grimjaw: Eh? Wazzat?




The Big Bawss turns around so hard one of his cybernetic ass cheeks falls off.




Grimjaw: Hey! Youze tryin ta upstage me ya liddle panzee? Eat somma dis hawt led!

Luckily for the All-American hero, his shield drone tanks the hit on his behalf.




The Broot Rod tries to pulverize one of the emps but the small figure isn’t as easily *klonked* as the Partisan bard, and grabs onto the grille of the vehicle.




Emp: Oh you done did it now!




The Roller Tank follows suit and has a bit more success.




A Hearth Chapel guard is impaled on the spikes and pulled under the roller, crushing half his body into a pulp.




Warmanager: Hey! Are youze guyz lookin at me? YOUZE LOOKIN AT ME?! I’LL KILL YA!!




The granite pawns are of course, not looking at anyone, due to a distinctive lack of eyes, but the Warmanager doesn’t seem to take this fact into consideration as he and his men make a beeline for the TS defenses.




Several of the Eminent Nimrods move in to defend the Mana Spire.




Eduard: Ha! These trolls don’t seem very friendly!

Myra: What tipped you off? The bloodcurdling screaming or the boomstick fire directed at us?

Reuben: *shark noises*

Myra: Yeah, or that.

Yeremy: What did he say?

Myra: “Or the fact that the metal clad ogre said himself that he’s trying to kill us, genius...”

Yeremy: Your familiar is becoming a bit of a wiseass isn’t he?

Myra: I plan to work on his people skills here when we--




Warboi: Oh my gaaaaaaawd shaddup you fuggin nerdy sploogez, I swear to Mammothra yall talk too dam much.




The Nimrods’ fighter and cleric, as well as her celestial shark familiar, go down in a torrent of gunfire, though Yeremy Fiddleford, the team’s mystic alchemist, manages to pull through with a potion of shielding.




As if answering the prayers of all the Brootalz sick of hearing people flap their jaws, the titanic platform trudges forward, blasting thunderous rock and metal beats over any pitiful attempts at dialogue in the area.




The spider tank sprays bullets from its underslung autogun ar the Warmanager and his boiz, but the shots plink off the heavily armored foe.




Cogger Pilot: Fuck




In response, a Broozer tank lets out a concussive roar, trampling over the broken landscape onto the battlefield spraying slugs all the way.

Hearth Chapel Guard: By the Pyre, we’re not in Renloth anymore…




Meanwhile, in the expanses of the Grey Konkrete, the Horseman of Poop begins his long trek back to the battle.

Frobo: *puff* *puff* *wheeze* donut worry frens, im on my wae to SAVE EVERVYONE!!11

[ninja_bait]

the short legs really suck for running pictures lol

[Bookwyrm]

(Recommended Listening:)




The Hearth Chapel guardsmen go for the most fleshy looking part of the Brootal juggernaut and thrust their blades into its tire over and over.




Summoned svartalf mantis cavalry deftly leap over the bodies of Eduard and Myra to eviscerate the squad of marauding warboiz with halberd and bladed claw.




Warboi: AAAAAA BIG BUG, GETTIT OFF ME!




The emp crawls up onto the hood of the enemy vehicle and draws back a pebble in his slingshot.




With a meaty *KLONK* of his own, the Brootal sho-furr dies, and the emp drags his bloodied body out of the driver’s seat.




His emp cohorts fire a barrage of stones at the nearby Broot Squad, but metal helmets are more effective against slung stones than a driving cap and they shrug off the weak attack.




A Warmanager sneaks up on RoC. “Sneaks up on” being a very loose term.




RoC makes a diving somersault roll between the huge ork’s legs and takes cover in the Axeleron ruin.




Loremaster: CONJURATION WARP!




The loremaster slams his hand frantically onto the seal to summon yet more help against the all too close-for-comfort orks, and a Chelonian sage appears to impassively scan the battlefield and its high level of khaos.




Chelonian: Mmmaaayyy yyyooouuurrr ssskkkiiinnn bbbeee aaasss ssstttooonnneee………

Pawn:




Galeo: Rally to me, soldiers of Avross! Unite against these wretched creatures and snuff them out once and for all!




Ambric and his loremaster retainer, the remaining pawns, and the assorted summoned infantry regroup around the aged hero and turn to suround the forces of Authority.




Grammar Nutzee: Actually it’s spelled--




Galeo: I don't! Fucking! Care! How it’s spelled! You can understand! Through! CONTEXT!




He and his soldiers hack the back two nutzees into a pulp.




A GGE artillerist experiences a misfire and the explosion scatters the squad of troops.




Officer Leia is hurled onto one of the granite pawns, her saber snagging the inside of its shield. The construct barely acknowledges her presence as it tromps towards the Tollbooth.




Officer Leia: I don’t suppose this stone fellow is so flustered by a beautiful woman lying on top of him that he would not consider killing me here?




Ambric: Apparently not.




Galeo: And stay fucking dead!




The singular pawn in the Leviathan’s lookout position lobs a crossbow bolt at the nearest enemy…




...Which happens to be a Brootal from the Hodgepodge force. All the other Hodgepodge soldiers turn and begin shrieking at the Star Sailer. Even the stony pawn seems a little rattled by their sudden anger. This may have been a poorly conceived move.




The Phantom Tollbooth pulls more Authoritarian forces from the void to reinforce the Fun Police personnel already onsite that are being mercilessly wiped out by the GGE, DSMs, and Traveler’s society. The giant Artou-Detour MacBot and its BzzBzz-8 ammunition, salvaged by the FPD from obliterated Appel warehouses following the initial waves of Ragnablok, turns its baleful lens upon the attacking Brikverse forces.




The Fun Police squad all begin yelling at the approaching laser masters at once.

FPD Clone Officer 1: Stop! You violated the law! FPD Clone Officer 2: Stop right there, criminal scum! FPD Clone Officer 3: Hey! You got a license for that horse?




Following the general FPD policy of "gun down anyone mildly inconveniencing you first, ask questions later," they don’t wait for a response before opening fire and mowing down three of them, disrupting their mounts in the process.




In Koalition territory, the Sphikter shits out a bunch of Shitgoat elites with crap gavels. They let out throaty cries in anticipation of the coming slaughter in the name of their Horseman. And speaking of which…




Facility Intercom Voice: ***WARNING! CONTAINMENT BREACH! CODE PUCE! REPEAT! CODE PUCE!***

Frobo: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA HELLPHELPHEPLHELPHALPHEEEEEEEEELP!




The Assyrian brute-suit clomps into the Dew Factory to finish the job once and for all. A 45th Unioner picks up a dew-gun and lets his old weapon clatter to the ground.




The Blokbot scrap Dieplane finally gets shot out of the sky by the Cerberus for harassing it so much, and the pilot goes down in flames.

GGE Engineer: Sir! I’m sorry! I failed you! I couldn’t defeat the 45th union VTOL like you asked sir! Tell my wife and three kids I tried!

Admiral Lyons: *through comms* Huh? What’s this guy-- oh? are you fucking kidding me he actually did that? I was kidding about killing the Cerberus with that rainbow piece of shit!




USA Spec Ops and the Secutor bombard the GGE tank with more combined attacks, setting it ablaze.




Warhead: Get up you lazy shitstains, it was just a stupid DANCE BATTLE! You’re embarrassments! Are you even fucking listening to me?

???: Pathetic. Not that I’m surprised though, an inferior shard like you doesn’t know the first thing about leadership.




Warhead: You? What are you doing here you pompous dick gargler? Finally getting to stick it to the Trattorians wasn’t enough for you, you had to come fuck around at the end of the world here too?

Sigma Shard: I came here to do what you’re doing a piss-poor job of doing; making sure the Immortal legacy carries over to the new fucking universe. If I weren’t so busy making this fight a million times more balls to the wall awesome, I’d chop your fucking head off and reabsorb your worthless ass, but I am, so you get to live today. Say thank you, you useless sack of shit.




Sigma Shard: Drop her here, boys, and show these nut-fondling rifle jockeys how it’s done! IMMORTALIS!




A floating sphere of glass drifts aimlessly out of the Four Rums and reverts to minifigure form; Tzan has arrived. To do exactly what, no-one knows.




A firefight breaks out between a heavily armed squad of GGE Marines and Militiamen. The air is thick with gunsmoke.




The Hodgepodge Gunship turns its turret on the Leviathan and begins to move into attack position.




The Brootalz officially enter into an alliance with the Hodgepodge Militia by sending them troops, marking the first known instance of “reverse brootal fever.”




The rear of the APC opens and releases more squads of troops who disembark to back up their Brootal allies.




The armed soldiers and Blockheads with pixel weapons take aim at the looming wooden craft above them.




The APC gunner trains the huge plasma cannon on the rear, and readies a cannon RPG…




While the Boomrodda likewise readies his Rokit Lawnchair.







Kaptain Wheelhead:

The railgun launches an Artou-Detour at Mach 7 towards the Star Sailer.




It instead flies directly over the Star Sailer…




* C r A s H ! *

Artou Unit: *!!!!!!!!!!!*

Town Guard: Zounds! What sorcery???




Arsenal Knight fires his arsenal so hard he dismounts himself by accident and falls on his ass.





Taking this as a signal, the rest of the Hodgepodge forces open fire as well.




Hardsuit Snek leans out of his hardsuit and pops off a shot with his flintlock pistol.




The Leviathan’s driver falls off the back and turns into a cloud of dust against the ground.




The Singularitatem sounds out another tone, and another shard smashes into the battlescape, carrying a Rubrum Crucesignatus deployment. Another Human has joined the battle.




Imperial Mage: Soldiers of the Magikstrate! Of the Emperor! Of Poland and Austria! Stand together for the greater good against all foes of the RC!




The Red Crusaders move to box in the Koalition and Imperial troops.




The shard and its collision with the Konverging fragments cause the Maniak Beer to glow even brighter than before, and the Quantumsurfers of the arriving factions appear all at once. Even Duerer shows up somehow!

Duerer: Uhhh, Jerzy isn’t a Quantumsurfer, so I don’t know how I ended up here...

RedRover: It’s the end of the world, don’t think about it too hard and have a drink. Look, there’s some Maniak Beer right here!

[Food_Truk]

Dang that was a long chunk of battle, the insanity and slaughter is beautiful.

That part with the Chelonian and the Pawn reminds me of this:

Spoiler

Show

[Bookwyrm]

(Recommended Listening:)



The colossal form of the Artemis rains down destruction on the Koalition Militia, obliterating squads with each shot and leaving nothing but craters and smoke littering the battlefield.




Quantumstalker Colette conjures wave after wave of Blokbots that crash against the Laser Masters and crumble against their beamswords, but the savage assault is unable to keep them from taking ground against the Horseman.




Auric: Stop hiding behind your minions and face me head on, you cowardly sack of spare parts!

Quantumstalker Colette: Y͎͖̼͇̖̪͍o̠u̮͖̩͙r̠̙̮̻̹̺ ̭̫̲̲̺̼t͙̫̹̼͇͈a͔͚͎͈͖̮̬u̖̫͇͓n̠̮̦̬̳͎̹̹t͕̪̺͍̺s̗͕̜̖̻ ̻͔̗̜̺a̭͓̣̗̝̙r͖̱̳͔̝̟̘͍̞e̞̖̰ ͇̮͔̠̩͔u̱͎̝̫̹̖͙͉s̳e̲̜̳̹͍̞̬l̦̯͚̺e̘̻̮ṣ̖s̝̘̣̼͓̲ ̭͚̯̞̼͇i͚̰̻̦̖̰̻ͅf̣̤̱̥̰̯̻̣ ̱̬̹̝y̬͕͖̣͉͕̜o̭̼u͙͇̣ ̰̳̞̺͙͈̲͚͔t̻h͓͖i̼͖͓̖n̯̼̪̺̟̝̖̮k̞̺̗̙̞̞͖̩ ̟̼̬̩̯̘̟͔̺t͕͈͈h̲̣e͉͎̹̞y̹̩̯̳̞͕̖͕ ̣̞̲̙͉͎w͉̹̤ͅi̩͚l̮̺̮͔͖̘ͅl͈̱̱̱̜ ̤̦͖͕̤̹s̱̠̗̩̼̦̹̞w̖̼͖̩̥̼a̠͓y͍̗̜͙̣ ̥̤̬̘̹m̲̗̪̙̲ḛ̱̬̦ͅ ̟̤ͅt̩̦̮̳̩͉o͚͉̟̖̻̻̬ ͚͓̫̰̪̯̼̫h̜̬̘̭a͖̞͍̩͈n̦̯̣d̠̩̞͓ ͓̰̣̻̬̥͈̖y̬͚̩̣̜̼̗͈o̦̘̟̬͉u͖̜͕̦ ͚̳̳̼͍̬ͅa͓͚n͕̤̱̝̺̪ ̤͕̖͇̰̻̱̮o̝͙̥p̖͓e̬̥̪̘n̠̣̺̪̰̘͉i̙͉̠̰̗̪̼̮n̫̝g̫͎̫͇̮̘ ̰͈͔͚̮̰o̟͚̱͔̣͍̻ͅn̦̲̮̖̯͇ ͕͚a̻̬͚͉̱̫̩ ̠s̝̭̖͚͍ị̼̠͉̱l͖̖̳̟̝͔v̙͙̲̤e̤͚̣͈̫͇͕r̩̗̲͔ ̙̯̬p͉̥̗̦̭̻̺͉l̗͔̠͎̭a͇͎t͚̭̪̳̦͉t͎̯̗̰͍̻͍̹e͕͉̤͙̪r̹͕̘̳͈̹͍.̝͎
̱̩̰
S̻͈̰̯o̤͇͎͈͉͎o̰̼̖̻̮̜̮n̫͍̰̘͈e͚̞͈̖r̰͙̳ ̳̟̖o̜̩r̟ ̫͙͇ḷ̩̗͇̤̬a̞̟̖̭̹t͓͎e̝̝̰̼̬r͖͖͇̖,̭̤̗̱͔̞͙ ͉̗͈̩̟̮͈y̙o̳̺͎̝u̼̣͓̯͎̣̲r̜͎̻̹̩͍ ̟̼̗̳̟̭a̯̥̹̬͔̦ṛ̯͕̮̜r̺͓͇̞͖̩̥o̮̲̞̘g̹a̤͔͚̫̝̱n̠̹̘͚c̙̖͚̪͈̩͍e̺̫̲̜̰ ̯͈͙̲w̥̣͙̗̘ͅi̤̟ḽ͔̜̫̪̳̤l͓̠̮̠̻ ͚̟̹̱b͇̝̥̬̖̫̲e͇͈͙̫̥͓ ͍̱ͅy̖̻ͅo͇̯͖̬͈u̯͎̝͍̯r͈̲͇ ͚͈̞̮̩̣̯u͖ṋ̭̹̥d̞̝̻o̠͖͕̦̥̩ͅi̯̻̲͍̭̜̯͖n̟͈̮̙͓͈̞̼g̱.̩͎̝͇̣ ͈̩̰͕͕

Y̲͍͔̥̰̳̲̮o͙̖u̦͇͔̹͎͖͔ ͕͙̹͚̪͙͇w͇̩̘̟͙͍i̮̣͍̻̟͇l̮̞l͖̖ ̯̙̭̰͚f͕͔͙̦̖͍̥̦a͓̻̜̺̻̣̮̱̳l͍͚͎̪̫l̫̯̭̫̩̱͓̹ͅ.̰͓̘̭̻ͅ





Auric: Opening? You mean this opening?

He turns to the gunner atop the Four Rums.

Auric: Now!




The beam strikes the chrome skin of the Emperor, who begins to glow. The fleshy extremity of a human, unseen by all but the hero and the Quantumstalker, reaches down and touches Auric’s forehead, and a stream of blinding bright energy lances from the spot towards Colette and their horse.




*BWWINGG!*




Both horse and rider are rapidly reduced to a quarter of their previous size. Incomprehensible but clearly indignant screaming comes from the now munch-ified Quantumstalker.




Rangers and an ATV with a weapons platform come through the portal, joining the rest of the GGE forces locked in conflict with the Traveler’s Society.




Galeo: Bail, BAIL!




The squad closest to the Phantom Tollbooth moves just enough to avoid being flattened by the ATV as it plows into the structure, fire belching from the point of impact.




A bright flash emits near the Peaceful forces and Pacifass returns, blankly surveying the almost overwhelming numbers of the Brootalz now surrounding them all around.





Adding to those numbers, more warboiz and Warmanagerz rush into the fray, bellowing cries of “BROOTALZ!” and “WAAAAAUGH!” into the din.




Elsewhere…

Frobo: Waaaaaaaaaagh!!




The roller end of the Roller Tank isn’t the only deadly implement at its disposal, and the tank end swings towards the Hearth Chapel guards jabbing at the tire.




* B O O M ! *

Hearth Chapel Guard: May… the Pyre… accept our spirits… (x_x)




The armored juggernaut revs forward in pursuit of the fleeing members of the Eminent Nimrods…




...but the damage done by the late brave guards on the wheel of the war machine doesn’t go unrewarded, just barely grazing the auburn braid of Nimrod bard Arabella Hopkins.




The Brootal infantry counterattacks the medieval forces, one warboi blasting a Svartalf off his mantis.




The others combine fire to shred the emps still left on the ground.


Warboiz: *collectively* FUCK U PEACENIKS GIVE US OUR DAMN GUNZ BACK!

Arch-Fiend: Uhhhhhh… Parlay?




The sparkling blue of the Fiend blood pools under the tromping boots of the indifferent Brootalz. There will be no parlay today with the wretched forces of Peace.




The Portal Beest Gunna obliterates more Dimmies, and Pacifass cringes as the bullets whiz by his face.




Pacifass: Hey! Watch where you’re pointing that thing!

Shoota Brootal: Whazzat? Oh! Looks like da turrett boi missed one!




Pacifass: Oh fuck me.




Shoota Brootal: Haha Horseman guts go brrrrrrrrrrr




Another crack widens for a brief moment, and more adventurers and summoned troops step out next to the center of the Konvergence. Menkolio Brill, gnome wizard and leader of the Brotherhood of the Cobalt Quill turns to address the soldiers under his command.




Menkolio: Well, this was not exactly a planned maneuver, but it would seem we have joined master Cantwell here in the thick of it entirely by accident. Might as well make the most of it, keep an eye out for aberrations and do your best to aid Galeo and his men! We will circle around this way!




Hearing the commotion of the newly arrived allies, Galeo leads his group to circle around the GGE forces pouring from the portal to meet up with them post haste.




Darius: Galeo! Where are the Esoterica forces we were looking for?

Galeo: Damned if I know, I can barely make out a tenth of what the hell is happening here! Head up to guard the remainder of Deddarm’s group, and circle back to grab the bodies of the adventurers that got shot down by those greenskins if you can, if you don’t see any Esoterica forces, get the rest of the Partisans out of here! I’ll be along!

Darius: Yes sir!




Bookwyrm flips to a new page in his Tome of Axeleron and calls forth a pair of Revenants, clattering with glee as they ready themselves for mayhem.




Emp: Let’s see what this thing can do!




The tiny figure stretches his stumpy legs and stomps down on the gas while wildly pulling a lever next to him back and forth haphazardly, and the Broot Rod shoots backwards into a squad of Hodgepodge troops that have joined the Brootalz in exchange for reinforcements of their own.




Four-Armed Fred: Alas, I, Four-Armed Fred, have been snuffed out in my prime, before I have even had time to form a coherent personality!




The loremaster yells out another cry of “Conjuration Warp!” and more Ordo Lux reinforcements come to his call, this time a Priest of the Eternal Flame.




Mantis: *mantis noises* <You look awfully tasty! >




The remaining mantis rider barrels into the Brootal squad that killed his companion, halberd swinging. His mount’s bladelike limbs dart forward and snatch a warboi to its jaws.




The granite pawns follow the example of the deceased Ordo Lux troops and riddles the remaining tire with punctures.




The spider tank, having reloaded a mortar, fires again, this time taking aim at the largest concentration of Brootal infantry.




Alas! It critically misfires, and the mortar spins off, colliding with the ground near the pawns. One is blown sky high, tiny pebbles left raining down all around.

Cogger Pilot: F U C K




The pawn in the gunner’s seat climbs down to the back of the Leviathan to resume control of the craft in lieu of his crewmate.




Loremaster Navigator: We’re listing to the side…




The pawn corrects the tipping ship as it turns slightly towards the Four Rums, nearly avoiding a collision with the Cerberus VTOL.




Two tanks stand nose-to-nose blasting away at eachother point blank, a squad of USA Spec Ops caught between. They stand unharmed, but undoubtedly now deaf.




The Pumpking: ENOUGH OF THIS PUSSY SHIT, WE NEED 60CCS OF OSSUM TO THIS BATTLEFIELD STAT, OR THE HORSEMEN ARE GOING TO FUCK UP THE UNIVERSE BEYOND FIXING. I’M INTERVENING. GOOD LUCK TRYING TO KILL THIS THING SUCKERS, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE A BAD TIME OF IT, HAHAHA!




The air wavers slightly. Then a titanic skeleton appears.

GIANT SKELTAL: NYEHH!

The Horseman Hunter veers at the last second to avoid colliding with the demigod of ossum.




While all eyes are affixed on the enormous sight, OneEye589 respawns in his true form.

OneEye589: I HAVE ATTAINED MY FINAL FORM! EYE BEAMS! PCHEW PCHEW PCHEW!




OneEye589: Hey, maggots! You’ve been slacking on your “ticket quotas!”

Fun Police Clone Officer: Uhhhh, sir, we don’t give tickets, we just beat people up, throw them in prison, and perform inhumane brainwashing experiments. Tickets are too round-about to get real results you’ve said yourself.

OneEye589: Oh for crying out loud, it’s a euphemism for all that stuff… Never mind, just, stop sucking so goddamn hard. Kill these Imperials!




OneEye589 borrows some of the leftover energy from the Nega-Sphinkter to summon a Cacademon to his side. A one-eye for OneEye.




The GGE rangers don’t give the Fun Police the chance to attack, letting a barrage fly.




Ranger 1: Eat lasers ya fuckin pricks!

Ranger 2: Yeah! All Cops are BastardFigs!




Fun Police Clone Officer 1: I mean. Yeah. That’s what “clone” means, we’re all the same BastardFig. Seems less of an insult and more a statement of fact.

Fun Police Clone Officer 2: Why do you even engage with them? What is to be gained? Just shoot them dude!




The BattleScape rings once again, signalling the participation of yet another mysterious Human in the coming fight. The khaos rages all around, and the Humans laugh at the mayhem. The tides are beginning to turn.


Overwatches:








~~~



As the Humans presiding over the battle retire to acquire sustenance, the Horseman of Poop hitchhikes a ride, hoping to cut the journey back a bit shorter. It does not cut the journey back a bit shorter.

Frobo: Hai welcom to Chillys.

[Food_Truk]

Giant Skeltal has to be my favourite part of that post, that or Frobo's ride to 'Chillys'.

[Duerer]

Even if I couldn't be there in person, I was able to be present in spirit thx to the cacademon.