[center][h3]Ms. Fortune[/h3]
[b]Level 4[/b] Nadia (116/40)
[b]Location:[/b] The Maw - Kabuki Theater
Koopa Troop’s [@DracoLunaris], Blazermate’s [@ArchmageMC], Hat Kid’s [@Dawnrider], Geralt’s [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN], Ace Cadet’s [@Yankee], Sakura's [@Zoey Boey],  Link’s [@Gentlemanvaultboy], Mirage’s [@Potemking]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1738[/center]

Even on its own the giant, vaulted space filled to the brim with pitch black was a daunting sight. Its sheer empty vastness, quiet as the grave, lay heavy across the shoulders of its newest visitors, a sheer force of oppression targeting the most primeval instincts inside them. After already bearing witness to a host of monsters big and small, the intrepid children couldn’t help but imagine terrors innumerable clinging to the walls and ceilings on high, or a single nightmarish behemoth waiting just out of reach. So needless to say, with the added pressure of five imposingly enormous Guests of Honor, the frontrunners hunkered down by the entryway for the rest of their team to arrive.

In hushed tones the Seekers exchanged a few quick words, daring not to raise their voices loud enough to disturb the blanket of dead silence that tucked the Kabuki Theater in. Mirage seemed to take the Lady’s departure in stride, but Nadia couldn’t find it in herself to see it as a good thing. If the pitiable dweller in the Depths was to be believed, the Lady was much more than just a distributor of curses, but the mastermind behind the whole damn Maw. That made her not just a step above the likes of Bongo Bongo and Moreau, but the one to blame for the captive children, the cannibalistic cooks, and the whole grisly cycle of gluttonous consumption. Nadia had a hard time believing that she or her new friends would be getting out of here without getting through [i]her[/i].

While running through her thoughts Nadia kept her eye on the stage. She could make out no active threats, but with such a threatening scene it hardly made a difference. As the others kept whispering, however, her gaze shifted toward the suite of special Guests. Apparently, the koopas recognized one of them, who happened to be the nearest one. Looking at him again, Nadia could see that he did seem to be the smallest and least vile of the bunch, being more or less a big crocodile with a cape and a crown. Kamek spoke true, though; however good an ally the croc might be, recruiting him lay beyond their means. As Geralt rightfully pointed out, the team still wasn’t well-suited for combat. Against the chefs they’d been lucky, and Nadia wasn’t so foolhardy as to think her crew could now take on whatever new opponents that might appear to block their way. Stealth was the best, and probably only, option.

Back on the subject of the Lady, though, Ace took Mirage’s confidence to another level. By now Nadia figured that was just his positive outlook, putting on a brave face to keep everyone’s spirits up, and to be fair it almost worked. Just in case anyone went and got any ideas, though, the feral gave voice to her suspicions. “No way in hell is that Lady a normal person,” she hissed, using the name that Moreau called the masked geisha. “She [i]runs[/i] this place. The monsters we fought all work for her. If she ran away, it can’t be ‘cause she’s scared. It’s probably so that when we do face her, it’ll be right where she wants us.” Sighing, she laughed softly to herself. “Man, this place is really gettin’ to me. I can’t even think of any puns.”

Sakura seemed mortified too, and for a similarly tangential reason. Apparently this area, as well as the Lady herself, borrowed elements from the little street fighter’s culture. Naturally, Bella hastened to her friend’s aid. “Oh no,” the Seaplane Tender assured the smaller girl in her arms. “I’m sure your homeland is nossing like zis twisted place, mon cherie!”

“Yeah, jus’ cause the kitchens back there didn’t [i]pan[/i] out well doesn’t mean we’re gonna hate chefs forever,” Nadia added, way too pleased at coming up with her joke given the gravity of the current situations.”

Though Bella had more to say on the subject, it was at that moment that her height afforded her -and her cherished cargo- a view across the theater. “Wait...look!”

Gulping, Nadia followed the pudgy Abyssal’s gaze toward the theater. Where before even her keen cat eyes couldn’t make out anything still shrouded in darkness, she could now see a little spot of light near the stage. It was flickering on and off, being off more than on by a good margin, or perhaps being blocked by what Nadia assumed must be weirdly shaped theater seats, with narrow backs featuring high central headrests. Taking a deep breath, Nadia left cover to dash across the shadowy aisle and to the rearmost row of chairs. She hopped up, sank her claws into the seat back, and climbed, trusting in the darkness to hide her as she tried to figure out the source of the light. Only once on top did the feral realize exactly what she’d scaled. Right beside her, about half as tall as she was, was the masked face of a geisha, and Nadia was crouched on her shoulder.

Frozen with terror, unable to so much as squeak or even drop back down to the ground, Nadia stared into the white mask’s black eyes. One second passed, then two, then three, until it dawned on the kitten that the geisha wasn’t moving. With a tentative finger she poked the mask, gouging a small line with her claw. Then finally, feeling like she’d lost years of her life, Nadia sighed in relief. It was just a mannequin.

As she looked out across the theater, however, she realized that this heart-stopping moment was just the beginning. This was the sort of theater that did not have chairs, but cushions or mats, which meant that each of the hundreds of slender shapes catching the nearest hint of light from the stage was a mannequin, too. A deep chill rolled down Nadia’s spine, and she swallowed. Her team’s assumption that the Lady wasn’t here had been wrong. In the smallest possible voice, Nadia quavered, [i]“She could be any one of them.”[/i]

By that time the distant, bobbing light reached the stage. A small shape jumped up and climbed on top of it, revealing itself to be none other than the Runaway Kid, a flashlight in hand. The moment he stood atop the stage he took off at a run across it, headed for the back, and his flashlight illuminated a set of big, important-looking double doors against the wall. Over it Nadia could make out a welcome set of words. [i]Helm.[/i] The kid was booking it across the well-lit stage, no opposition in sight, the command center of the ship within reach. Nadia’s ears perked up. [i]Please,[/i] she prayed. [i]Please make it![/i]

A second passed. Then two. Then a thunderous slam resounded through the theater, sudden and loud enough to tear a short scream from Nadia’s lips, as the stage lights went out. All the elaborate Japanese scenery disappeared into darkness, and only a single spotlight shone down upon the wooden stage. If the sound of the shut-off was scary in the back, it had been far worse up front; the Runaway dove to the ground, arms tucked around his head as if he’d been shot at. The flashlight slipped from his grasp and rolled toward the darkness on his right. Quickly the kid got up again and sprinted right at it, but before he could reach the things a crimson glare split the pitch. Facing the boy from the darkness was a sinkhole of concentric scarlet diamonds, all collapsing inward to a central point in a hypnotic manner Nadia found hauntingly familiar. Red arms of demonic energy reached from the Resentment’s hood, but the kid leaped back toward the center of the spotlight, and forsaking his flashlight prepared to swerve the other way. Like clockwork the second demon appeared to the left, its grasping hands eager to grab and pull the child in with them. That left the poor child just one option: the center. But even as the kid ran forward, braving the danger to either side to forge into the shadows ahead, his feet parted ways with the ground. A black aura surrounded him, lifting him into the air, and from the stygian dark in front of him emerged the Lady.

“No,” Nadia breathed, tears forming in her eyes, wishing she could help, but it was too late. The Runaway was too far. She could only watch as the Lady held out her hands toward the miasma that floated the boy off the ground, and something vital flowed from him into his assailant’s body. He writhed and shook violently, like a piece of paper crinkling up at the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner trying to suck it inside, getting smaller and smaller until all that remained was a shrunken, [url=https://i.imgur.com/VstiTpj.png]featureless husk[/url], its skin the color of clay. It plopped down to the stage alongside its former clothes, and with the violence over with the oppressive silence resumed. The Resentments backed into darkness, hiding the light in their hoods, but the Lady remained a moment longer. Slowly she raised an arm and beckoned toward the theater’s back right corner, where the Seekers resided. Then she disappeared, leaving the room empty and black save for the boxes of the honorable Guests and the sole spotlight on the stage. Or so it looked, anyway.

Worse still, several of the Guests of Honor began to clap or laugh, clearly enjoying the macabre show. It was all a bit much. Fighting to control her ragged breathing, Nadia dropped to the ground. Horrified by the totality of the situation, she steadied herself against the mannequin, her laughter humorless and despondent. “Heheheh. Isn’t she nice, treatin’ us all to both dinner and a show?” She sniffed and looked at the others, her tears of despair replaced by bitterness and rage. “Well, anyone got any ideas for how we kill this bitch?”

If the heroes looked around the theater, putting their eyes and/or scanners to work perceiving alternatives to facing the Lady and her minions head-on, they would see a couple different doors other than the pair that would have promised salvation if not for the enemies hidden around them. In fact, it appeared as though the theater offered a secondary function as a sort of hub, with various other rooms branching around it, including the Washroom, the Storeroom, the Smoking Lounge, and the Lady’s Chambers.

[center][h3]Wildwood Glades[/h3]
[b]Location:[/b] Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s [@Gentlemanvaultboy][/center]

At the witch’s bidding Albedo and Linkle moved to make themselves comfortable. Understandably eager for warmth, the Skullgirl placed herself by the fireplace, and the Alchemist was not far behind. Though the lush, beautiful valley known as the Wildwood Glades harbored a refreshing coolness that Albedo could appreciate after the bitterly cold winds that rolled off the frigid mountainsides far above, actual heat was long overdue. Lacking any compunctions about pulling up a chair or joining Linkle on the bed, he seated himself on the floor by the witch’s hearth with crossed legs, but rather than watch the tantalizing dance of the flames he fixed his attention on his gracious host. 

Linkle ended up breaking the comfortable silence with a remark that made the witch of the woods laugh. “I’ll happily accept your compliment,” she told the girl, an easy smile on her face, but when her guest led into a polite request for introduction, she did not appear quite so forthcoming. “Excuse my rudeness, but I’d rather not say. Names have a lot of power, and you surely realize that there must be a reason why I live in solitude, my little house a well-kept secret.” She turned between Linkle and Albedo with an imploring expression. “I trust that it’s one you’ll keep? Though my magic would make its rediscovery difficult, I would rather no-one know to try.”

The alchemist nodded to accommodate her request, but his thoughts were elsewhere. [i]A reason, hm?[/i] It made sense, naturally, but it also begged the question of just what that reason might be. If one did not wish to be found, that could only mean that there were those out there whose attention meant danger. A certain vicious stranger, for instance, who Father Guerra described as a man on the hunt, whose warpath across the Frozen Highlands was the result of this relentless search. Since this witch appeared to be in her late thirties, she couldn’t possibly be the daughter Skadi mentioned, but she had to know something. Perhaps this lady was the girl’s aunt, or some other guardian. Or…

[i]No.[/i] Albedo’s eyebrows furrowed. [i]I’m making foolish assumptions, and it’s made me wrong. She’s-[/i]

“Here.” Albedo blinked, his eyes focusing on the mug of steaming tea before him. The lady held it in front of him, her expression curious and a little impatient. She must have been standing there for a moment or two.

The alchemist tried not to take the cup too quickly. “..Thank you.”

As he feared, however, his host did not move on. “You seem rather restless for a sightseer. Absent, even,” she remarked, her voice soft but cold compared to the heat of the fireplace. “Is a house call on the Witch of the Woods not sufficient to capture your interest?”

“Forgive me, I meant no offense,” Albedo apologized, his own face blank. “I tend to...daydream, sometimes. Lost in thought.” He glanced at Linkle for support.

The witch gave a slow nod. Much to Albedo’s chagrin, it looked like her guard was up. She was beginning to wonder if letting these strangers into her home was a good idea. For now though, she said, “I see. My apologies. Please, think nothing of it.” She too looked at her other guest. “Was there something else I could help you with?”