[center][h3]Lumbridge[/h3]
[b]Level 6 Tora[/b] - (8/60) EXP and [b]Level 5 Poppi[/b] - (16/50) EXP
[b]Location:[/b] the Land of Adventure
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1489[/center]

Down the road from the guild hall, the area surrounding Blazermate's teleporter had become quite the center of attention. Three total strangers, looking harrowed and smelling funny, were being attended to in close proximity to the device. Shortly after his arrival on the scene, the Houndmaster had observed his trusty wolfhound balking at the odor coming off the survivors and ordered that nobody get too close. During his time venturing through the perilous bowels of castle, warren, weald, and cove in preparation for assaulting the Darkest Dungeon, the lawmen encountered no shortage of blights, poisons, and plagues, and the villagers had heard enough vague but horrifying recollections to trust his insight in such matters. Visitors could talk to them, however, and that was just what they did. 

The oldest of the escapees, an animate coin with arms and legs, treated any inquirers to an endless tirade that fluctuated between rattled recounting of events and ornery complaints. Cooper Chance, spurred on either by adrenaline or stress, babbled excitedly. Feng Min, who looked the worst for wear but somehow seemed the least mentally affected, did her best to explain to the Houndmaster and the others what happened, but there was a problem. When Linkle dropped by to ask about her friends, the survivor shared what little she could. “I'm sorry, but I was barely with anyone else. I...I was trapped in a different nightmare, a pocket dimension or something, until this kid in a mask rescued me and Dwight. Then we were in a big hall in this museum place with a bunch of people.” She paused a moment, trying to remember. “I...saw the bear, and the robot girl, but nobody else you mentioned. A giant horde of zombies was attacking, and everyone was going crazy. The police chief picked me to get on the teleporter first, but...” she glanced at the machine, motionless and nonoperational. “Something must have happened to stop the others.” 

Her voice shook for the first time as she finished speaking, dreading the thought that she could help but entertain: that everyone else, including Dwight, who'd been through hell alongside her, was dead.

[hr]

“Broggypon look...cagey,” Tora observed.

Poppi nodded, frowning. She and her masterpon sat on opposite sides of a small, circular table, and on the table stood the little creature that had been encapsulated in her pokeball for almost a whole day. Though small in stature, the Croagunk managed to be imposing in temper, treating the pair with nasty, distrustful looks after its initial rage wore off. The purplish marks on Poppi's unliving face and Tora's mech arm, hastily used as a shield, stood as testament to the little guy's fury. For her part, Poppi didn't quite understand the problem, since she figured that it couldn't have possibly been starving or dehydrated in that time. While no expert on pets himself, Tora took up the task of explaining.

“Erm...well, it like this,” he began, his voice prompting the Croagunk to turn on him. “Animals not like machine, which give good results so long as fueled properly. They need affection, exercise, stimulation,” he listed off the points using his wing-feathers to count. Since they stopped at three, so did his list. “Tora not know how little ball work, meh, but quite possible little Brog been bored, cramped, and alone for many hours.” Saying it aloud, the Nopon couldn't help but feel sorry for the little guy. With how busy he'd been with the karts at the time, he actually had no idea that Poppi went and caught herself a pet. The idea that she kept something from him didn't sit well with him, but Tora put that feeling aside for later.

The news made Poppi's face fall. “...Oh.” After a moment she stood up, drawing the Croagunk's attention. “Poppi is very sorry, brog. Not know enough about animals to take care of Croagunk.” As the pokemon watched, she moved toward the guild hall's door and opened it. “If brog want to leave, brog can. Poppi understand. But if brog stay, Poppi will do much better!” Brows furrowed, she nodded in a determined way.

For its part, the Croagunk looked unconvinced. It shot Tora a sketchy look, but for the moment did not move. Tora took that as a good sign and produced his last Tasty Sausage from his pocket. “Here!” he said, unwrapping the dried meat and offering it to the pokemon. “Tora love Tasty Sausage! So yummy-yummy! But because of that, Tora giving it very meaningful, meh!” Skirting away from his wing, the Croagunk refused to take it, so Tora laid it down on the table. Poppi reached the table and watched with intense eyes. The Croagunk huffed and turned up its nose, only for its belly to rumble, crying out for sustenance. At first the pokemon tried to pretend it didn't happen, but after a moment it hung its head, sheepish, and took the food to eat. Tora smiled ear to ear and clapped Poppi on the shoulder, who looked overjoyed. Even if she and her Croagunk didn't get along yet, there seemed to be a chance to make up for her ignorance and become friends. 

Someone barged in through the open door, prompting the three to look. None other than Courier swaggered in, flanked by a bulky machine riding high on one tire. “Ooh,” Tora said appreciatively, assuming the robot to be the gunslinger's own creation. Of course, with that inelegant chassis and rudimentary framework it was nothing compared to his Poppi, but something about it prevented him looking away in disinterest. The face plastered on its screen seemed awfully familiar, but Tora couldn't remember a name or anything. Someone he'd seen for a short time, perhaps, to whom he was never really introduced. 6 gave an introduction now, but it didn't ring a bell, so all Tora said was, “Drinking in morning not healthy, but par for the course for druggypon, meh.”

Another commotion brought the trio's attention over to Bowser, who'd just made a show of slamming down a jar full of colorful spirits onto a table in front of where the guildmaster and Peach seemed to be talking. In a twist of irony he was coming to her rescue, both offering the proof the smarmy guildmaster asked for and trying to impress her. For his efforts he earned a snicker when he needed a reminder from his own kid to properly showcase the Brachydios spirit. He made a bit of a mess retrieving it too, allowing the others to pick over the selection.

[center][hider=For Hat Kid]You have acquired:
[b][url=https://gamepedia.cursecdn.com/darkestdungeon_gamepedia/4/4a/Inv_trinket-com_lens_of_comet.png?version=201f698ec13527b6c8327fe10cb0a808]Lens of the Comet[/url][/b]
A trinket fashioned from otherworldly crystal. With it equipped, one is able to ignore the effects of stealth, but its malign presence makes one much less likely to turn virtuous under duress

and:
[b][url=https://gamepedia.cursecdn.com/darkestdungeon_gamepedia/7/72/Grv_huskclaw_toxin.png?version=a9dde90c51d8466dd179122a5b885814]Topshelf Tonic[/url][/b]
Brew crystallized by maddening alien phosphorescence. The bizarre blend bleeds through to whoever carries it, making him or her much more evasive [i]if[/i] the carrier also possesses herbs with any medicinal properties, and increasing his or her speed, but also making the carrier more susceptible to blighta and making said blights last longer.

and:
[b][url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/halo/images/f/fc/H4-Z040PulseGrenade-AltRender.png/revision/latest?cb=20131206064849]Attentuation Field Generator[/url][/b]
A dream of a far-off world with a metal sky and creatures with bones of light surrenders an object capable of creating pulses that strip energy shields and disrupt electrical systems.[/hider][/center]

Still, regardless of its clumsy delivery, the monster's remnant was just what the doctor ordered. The sight of it struck the guildmaster dumb for a moment, but after the Ace Cadet egged him on, the dam broke and he smacked his palm with a fist. “Drat!” he muttered, fuming. “Double drat! Why, I oughta...”

All of a sudden his anger evaporated as if it had all been an act. Clearing his throat, he stood up straight, placed his hands on his hips and looked between the assembled heroes, all watching him. "Well, lookee here! You seekers actually pulled it off...but you made me lose a bet!! And for that, you ain't seein' the big cheese just yet. We're gonna play a little game first!"

The guildmaster grabbed his collar and pulled. His coat came off in one motion, impossibly smooth, and leaving him a silhouette surrounded in darkness. He whirled the coat around himself, wrapping it up before clapping it between his hands. When he held his fingers up, a pitch-black coin lay nestled between two of them. Using his thumb he flipped it into the air, and when it hit the ground, it expanded into a huge black circle that covered a wide section of floor. Bowser, Junior, Peach, the Courier, Gaige-tron, Tora, Poppi, the Croagunk, Ace Cadet, Hat Kid, and Geralt were all above it. The next thing they knew they were falling, plummeting down, down down through infinite darkness.

Then came bright lights, and a moment later the falling heroes hit something soft and green. Tora hit it face-first and bounced, confused and alarmed but unharmed. “Mehmehmeeeeh!” he wailed, bouncing one more time before coming to a stop. Poppi, having used her boosters to land, would have rushed to help him up if she wasn't utterly amazed.

[center][img]https://i.redd.it/o9i21xt2s9qz.jpg[/img][/center]

Carpet, nylon, booze, smoke, and sweat. Suits, cigars, chips, and cards. The heroes appeared to be an utterly enormous casino, so gigantic that what they might have mistakenly thought to be grass was in actuality the surface of an immense poker table. Stranger than the casino, however, were its occupants. Instead of people, a throng of well-dressed skeletons and demons patronized the place, jostling and chatting as they filled themselves with liquor and fumes and thoughts of winning it big as they tried their luck at slots, craps, roulette, blackjack, poker, and baccarat. Worse still, while nobody seemed injured by the fall, a quick look upward would be just in time to catch the hole they came through closing up as though it never existed.

An ugly laugh resounded from one side of the table. A figure rose from behind a board game, the last of the darkness draining away from his body to reveal the guildmaster's [url=https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D_cryDZVAAAtRH-.jpg]true form.[/url]

A lanky man in a tacky purple suit towered before them, but instead of a head a die rested on his shoulders, and its front bore leering seafoam-green eyes and a villainous grin. He slid a deck of cards from his sleeve to perform a card trick, flitting them back and forth between his hands. “Nahahahaha! Well now, how d'you do down there? The name's Gneidxick. Things're different in this world, but I'm still the devil's right hand man.” He clapped his hands together, crushing the cards into a pink die that hovered just above the table, spinning. “Lemme introduce you to my friends. Rough 'em up and you can roll for points. Get ten, you win. Keel over, you lose!” He laughed again, eyes gleaming. “Let's open the game!”

Around the edges of the giant table, ten oversized poker chips rose up to become portals. On their other sides lay a diverse assortment of arenas, and various enemies waiting within.

[center][i]All bets are off! Gneidxick is untargetable until his game is won, and he's pitting the heroes against his gallery of minions. The portals to their arenas will close after admitting three challengers. While the heroes can't escape Gneidxick's casino, reinforcements can arrive through the portable hole still present in the guild hall.[/i][/center]

[center][h3]Ratchet and Death[/h3]
[b]Location:[/b] Lounge, RCPD, Dead Zone[/center]

A bonk on the head from Ratchet's wrench left the fire-spitting pyrobat dazed, which meant easy pickings for Death's scythe. That left only the red arremer, who looked more put out than angry or afraid. Unlike the myriad zombies and demons assaulting the police station, this monster did not seem hellbent on the heroes' deaths. In fact, Firebrand felt like his parade has been rained on. With his playmates down and these two a little too combat-capable to be any fun, Firebrand decided he could get his kicks elsewhere. He spat out a few well-aimed fireballs to get Ratchet and Death dancing, then flew backward out of the ruined lounge with a burst of mocking cackles. The next moment, he was gone, and with the horde overrunning the RCPD, the heroes needed to beat it, too.

As Firebrand took to the darkened sky, he could get a good view of the dilemma facing the police station. Survivors and fighters poured of the backside, a tight-knit group moving quickly, while a staggering abundance of monsters smashed into the station's front, a ravenous, malevolent tsunami. Two more arremers rose from the throng to join him, and together the trio took off after the interesting group. Firebrand was excited. It'd been so long since he'd crossed paths with real, living people. While an endless sort of fun, they also provided a potential path out of here and back to the Demon Village. If they got killed, that was that, but he was interested to see how this struggle turned out.

[center][h3]Jak and Daxter[/h3]
[b]Location:[/b] First floor east side, RCPD, Dead Zone[/center]

As electrifying as his performance was, Eddie's rhythmic devastation did not help his allies still inside the station. Worse still, he quickly found himself taking on far greater numbers than he expected. He'd assumed only a contingent coming around the police station from this angle, but like a crashing wave the gigantic horde seemed to spill around the station front, no doubt bottlenecked at the main entrance by those still in the main hall. His righteous lightning fried wave after wave of undead and low-level demons, but the tide showed no sign of stopping. As his fingers got sore from his furious playing, Eddie started backtracking toward the window. He needed to pull back.

Just a feet feet away, on the other side of the station wall, Jak recognized the quickly deteriorating situation himself and called upon the darkness. A roiling energy ball of dark eco blossomed to life between his palms, and with a bellow he hurled it through the incoming zombies to blast apart the wall and reveal another avenue of escape. A moment later a rain-soaked Eddie flopped through the window and rose to his feet, bleeding from the broken glass. “Too many. Let's blow this joint!”

The group started to move, but the wraith had other ideas. Having been floating behind the survivors, wary of the new arrivals, she seized the perfect chance to act. As the four ran for Jak's improvised exit, the wraith swooped forward toward Tess. It happened in an instant; Jones and Eddie spotted it in time to witness, but not to prevent. The cruelly hooked, heavy silver gleamed hungrily as it flashed through the weak light. Tess screamed as the blade cleaved through, not just lopping off an arm at the elbow but cleaving straight through her torso as well. Her lower and upper halves hit the floor in a murky pool, and Jones ground his teeth. “No!” he growled, reaching into his coat. He withdrew a heavy-barreled [url=https://cdn.thingiverse.com/assets/5e/5b/15/72/d5/Mercy_Gun.jpg]revolver[/url] of exotic make, leveled it at the wraith, and fired.

A thunderous rapport and withering flash signaled the annihilation of the wraith's head. With a spectral shriek her ghostly body faded away, leaving a spirit behind. All around zombies were incoming, swarming like piranhas. Jones moved with uncanny composure and grace, sliding forward to grab the spirit as it floated softly to the floor. He span around, took a step, and knelt to jam it into Tess's chest. A brilliant, prismatic light burst to life inside the infested corridor, pushing the horde back for just a moment. Jones looked down into the light, watching Tess's face disappear into formless radiance. “I hope you'll forgive me,” he murmured before standing, his face grim. Another couple second's hesitation and he'd be overrun. Without looking back he ran after the others, stuffing the unusual pistol back into his coat as he went. Behind him, unseen, the dying woman changed, becoming something altogether different. For better or worse, Jones knew, she would remain.

[center][h3]Nero[/h3]
[b]Location:[/b] Sundered Market Avenue, Dead Zone[/center]

Hearts pounded, and heavy breaths tore through ragged throats. The cluster of fighters and survivors paused for a brief time while its leadership discussed which route to take, making use of every second to try and recuperate some stamina. Every single one of them knew that the horde could not be far behind. Only one person kept running: Nero, who made a beeline for a nearby phone booth. What could ever be important enough to warrant a phone call in this situation, few could guess.

The debate itself was very brief. Blazermate and Donnie recommended the left, and with every second on the clock counting, Howard agreed immediately. “Alright, we'll do that. No sense tangling with Chimeras, not with a group this size.” Kazooie took the opportunity to announce -with an understandably coarse undertone, given the circumstances- that she and her partner would be taking the middle route, which would get them to the tower first. While he hadn't seen those wings in action, Howard wagered that they'd protect the pair from falling, but the same couldn't be said for the survivors. An overly-strong gust of wind, or a sudden attack by flying demons or chimeras, could spell messy ends for anyone too intrepid for their own good.

Jill approached him next with troubling news, the look on her face telling the police captain that a few more moments were necessary to share it. “Sir. We lost four civilians in the escape, the Black Mage, and the masked kid. There's also no sign of Olivia or the new guy she was with.”

Howard exhaled. The weight of lost lives hung around his heart like leaden chains. “We'll have to mourn them later. We gotta move. Everyone!” he raised his voice to address the crowd. “We're going left! Stay close and move fast. We're almost to safety!” His strong heart was cold with fear. Even if everyone made it to the tower, would it be the haven he described it as? It could be inaccessible, or worse, defended. Maybe it had automated defenses. Maybe the 'big guy' fox mentioned would rip and tear the survivors limb from limb. Maybe it was full of more monsters. [i]I don't know a damn thing,[/i] he agonized. Was he driving these people toward their deaths?

An uproar from down the street forced him to look back. The horde was coming. Its interminable mass filled the street, just a couple thousand feet away. He shook his head and bellowed, “GO!” Anything could be waiting at the tower, but death itself was lurching the survivors' way. Anything was better than that. He led the charge as the group swerved left, headed for the infested left side of the sundered market avenue. His Legion manifested beside him, and when the undead came his way it cleft them into pieces with its immense axe. If Blazermate held true to her word, she could at least neutralize most of their undead attackers, allowing fighters to take them out with little effort and keep the survivors moving.

Nero drew up alongside Howard, firing his Blue Rose at any zombies that drew too close. His demonic bullets tore them apart, allowing him to converse with the captain remarkably casually. “Cheer up, old man. Things could be worse, huh?”

“People have died,” Howard growled through gritted teeth. He delivered a horizontal swipe to a [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/deadliestfiction/images/c/ca/PVZ_Zombie_Suit.png/revision/latest?cb=20131126175343]zombie[/url] with the blunt edge of his heavy gladius, which shattered its bones and left it lying in a malodorous heap. He looked back and winced. The horde was gaining. Those in the back would not survive. “A [i]kid[/i] has died. Your friend!”

The devil hunter shook his head. He took aim at a flood combat form, then adjusted it to hit a nearby streetlamp. Two bullets glanced off the metal and hit the flood from the opposite side, knocking it into a trash can. As he ran by Nero swung at it with the revved Red Queen, setting the contents ablaze. “Emergency pickup. I know someone.”

There came a terrific series of crunches and impacts from behind. A look back would turn up a familiar van plowing through the left wing of the pursuing horde, pulverizing undead beneath its fender and tires. Even from this distance the survivors could see the wide, white smile of the woman behind the wheel, and inside the van beside her were Joker, and Olivia. Zombies clung to the van, and demons lashed out it with claw and spell, but it shook off them all. “Woooooohoo!” Nico cried, breaking free of the horde and streaking toward the survivors with wet tires. 

A few moments later she pulled up alongside the rearmost survivors,  and slowed down, her doors flung open. Inside, Gene was ready to help people in. “Come on, come on!” he urged, and they came. The overweight, hat-wearing dragon climbed on top of the van instead, but Nico's vehicle bore the burden without complaint. Snarling and gnashing, the horde bore down upon the van, but the last civilian piled in and Nico hit the gas just in time for the frontrunner demon's claws to close around nothing but air. She accelerated toward the tower, maneuvering around the rest of the survivors and pancaking more zombies. The van would reach the tower first, but the runners were still vulnerable. More attacks came from the side, and the horde was never far behind. If the fighters could slow down the horde and fend off the attackers, it suddenly seemed possible that everyone could make it. One final stretch.