[center][h3]Tora, Poppi, and Big Band[/h3]
[b]Location:[/b] Sandswept Sky - Inner-Mountain
Level 9 Tora (123/90) Level 9 Poppi (123/90) Level 5 Big Band (62/50)
Midna’s [@DracoLunaris], Fox’s [@Dawnrider], Sectonia’s [@Archmage MC], Primrose and Therion’s [@Yankee], Yoshitsune and Sora’s [@Rockin Strings], Laharl’s [@Dark Cloud], Raz’s [@TruthHurts22]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 2237[/center]

With much to do in order to get the lift in a state where it could convey the Seekers to lofty new heights, the team split up into smaller groups to get the various tasks done. At least, most of them did. Raz practically threw himself at the task of getting the great chain unstuck, and after some reluctance Therion followed suit, with Midna not so far off that she couldn’t fly off her mount and launch an emergency rescue if needed. Meanwhile Tora, ever mechanically-minded, took Poppi on a hunt for any sort of control mechanism with which the great claw might be hoisted. With the aid of his magnifying glass Big Band identified smooth-worn tracks in the floor that denoted the movement of a very large, heavy object, and bent to the task of following them to the source with the Scout by his side. Primrose, meanwhile, stood ready to assist whoever might have the dubious honor of being the first to run up against whatever foes called this inhospitable place home. After only a moment she found her vigil joined by the Phantom Thieves, starting with her new friend Panther. “We’ll keep an eye out,” she declared, her own flame just a Persona call or Lamia breath away. “The second anything pokes its head out, it’s toast!”

That did, however, leave a handful of heroes still indisposed. Neither Yoshitsune nor Sora treated the monster-infested catacombs with the seriousness they warranted, and despite their fighting prowess came away with enough wounds that neither felt compelled to lend a hand with the lift situation. Sectonia abstained from assisting as well, perhaps convinced that this room held nothing but busy work with which it wouldn’t do for royalty like her to dirty her hands. Tacit as ever, Fox assumed a directorial role, no doubt watching and waiting to put his effort to the best possible use. Lastly, Laharl busied himself with the spirits he looted from the catacombs, pressing what few he could into his service and itemizing those he could not.

[center][hider=For Laharl]New Striker spiritbound:
[b][url=https://i.imgur.com/ZWTOO2t.png]Draugr[/url][/b]
Deceased warriors risen from their interment with a vengeful hatred of the living. They wield hand axes, swords, and shields of diminished quality to provide rudimentary offense and defense, serving as mediocre footsoldiers for their host. Accordingly they have shorter than average cooldowns, and they transmit a little less damage to their host than normal
[b][url=https://i.imgur.com/k3Ma83w.jpeg]Scourge[/url][/b]
A special deceased warrior risen from his interment with a vengeful hatred of the living. He wields a steel sword with some skill is capable of unleashing a diminished Unrelenting Force Dragonshout. His is a longer than average cooldowns, but he transmits a little less damage to their host than normal

You have obtained:
[b]Souls[/b] x 320
[i]A sort of ephemeral quantity bound to oneself, immaterial and conferring no burden. Souls, sen, runes, echoes, scrap, geo, widgets, haze...whatever you call them, they are a universal currency that, if not usable outright, can at least be exchanged most anywhere. But beware: death will drop one’s whole sum on the ground for others to collect[/i]
[b][url=https://i.imgur.com/DSAMEVr.png]Iron War Axe[/url][/b]
[i]A solid weapon with good heft, although low on the totem pole in terms of material quality. Strikes more powerfully than a comparable sword but cannot thrust, and is easier for an amateur to overswing with[/i][/hider]

[hider=For Midna]New Strikers spiritbound:
[url=https://i.imgur.com/9TMLMgW.png][b]Chilfos[/b][/url] x4
Simple albeit rather tall warriors of ice easily shattered by explosive or blunt force but resilient against other forms of damage. They wield icicle spears to deal piercing damage at long range, which can also be thrown as javelins. Whenever summoned, a Chilfos Striker will have its spear, even if it disappeared without one. As their usefulness is limited, they have short cooldowns[/hider]
[/center]

As Raz and Therion quickly found, the thermally conductive metal of the oversized chain they relied upon to ascend through the grand cavern’s enormity held within it an incredible, nigh-unbearable cold. With nothing but those colossal, freezing links for company in the dead air over a deadly fall, their climb was a miserable and taxing one. Worse still, with the ice-crusted shipwreck frozen almost vertically in the cave wall, they could not just wrench open their deadened fingers and drop to its from any height. They would need to swing, jump, float, or otherwise make their own way across empty space over a deadly fall, only for their hearts to skip a beat when the long-abandoned husk gave a terrifying jerk on contact. Luckily, its frigid bonds held, and so long as the brave explorers found a way to counteract the vicious chill that numbed their extremities they could peruse the vessel before they accomplished their duty.

It took only a little digging around to uncover clues about the ship’s past. Though time and the elements had long since reduced any standards, documents, and diaries to rubbish, the plenitude of archaic, deteriorated weapons, from cannons to sabers to flintlocks, suggested a piratical history. Skeletons in tattered remnants of clothing littered the upper and lower decks, their [url=https://i.imgur.com/16PsqXd.png]skulls[/url] encased or studded with precious metals, wrapped in bands of leather, and carved with arcane sigils as they stared ruefully at the intruders with sockets filled by solid gold or spectral mist. Not all of the crewmen contented themselves with eternal rest, either; if disturbed, the most haunted of the skeletons would rise up in protest, and endeavor to wrap bony arms around the foolish robbers before heedlessly casting themselves overboard. Once they finished plundering, or perhaps instead of starting, the boarders could turn their attention to their goal: the chain. Bound in ice, it would take some serious physical force to break free, but after its release the only problem left to Raz, Therion, and Midna would be the question of how to get down.

Down below, despite the occasional skeleton exploding into bone dust against the ground, everything was coming up Tora. The Scout’s Flare Gun bathed the whole area in plentiful light, which made searching easy. On the far right side of the area he and Poppi went up a little wooden path along the cavern wall to find themselves atop a wooden platform, where a conspicuously large [url=https://i.imgur.com/YHQ5iIp.png]contraption[/url] of wooden gears and iron teeth promised results. Tora got wings-on immediately, trying to figure out how it worked, and when he found it jammed he produced his wrench straightaway to dislodge the blockage. “Mmmmmeh!” he grunted, planting both feet against the device as he tugged on the wrench with all his strength. A skeptical Poppi looked on with arms crossed until Tora’s persistence finally kicked the machine into action. With an angry whir it spun forward, fast and strong enough to drag the Nopon straight into the gears if Poppi didn’t snatch him first. “Meh!?” he yelped, watching as the giant pincers soared away into the cavern’s upper reaches, its pincer smashing through the mast of the shipwreck. At the same time a pair of giant counterweights descended, smashing through the ice a few dozen feet to the frozen ship’s right on a collision course for the cavern floor. “Look out!” the Nopon and artificial blade cried together, warning others away from the impact site. A moment later the counterweights smashed into ground, destroying all the scaffolding and such in their path, and with a deafening [i]BOOM[/i] sent out a bone-rattling tremor.

When the dust settled, and Tora came to terms with the fact that he hadn’t been killed, he poked his head over the control platform’s railing. “Sorry, sorry, that one on Tora!” he called. “Everybody alright, yes?”

“Everyone accounted for,” Necronomicon reported. “Nobody was in that area.”

Tora let out what might have been the heaviest, most relieved sigh of his life. “Well, at least we know how to control lift, meh. Only problem, weight much heavier than claws. Need attach to something.”

Eyeing the control mechanism, Poppi added, “Also need use this to get claws back down. Poppi try, but even Poppi superstrength might not be enough.” Without delay she began her mode shift to her Alpha form to try her luck.

At about that time, the Scout ziplined back into the dark of the main cave through the tunnel he and Big Band departed through. “Oi, what’s all that racket!?” he groused.

“Nothing, meh! Just minor accident!” Tora shouted from the far side.

“Uh huh.” The dwarf looked unconvinced. “Well, we need some muscle down this way. Got a hell of a cart what needs pushin’.”

“My strength is yours!” Braum declared. Though his breath had frozen on his bristling mustache he seemed totally unbothered by the cold; in fact, his eyes shone as he flexed his bare, rippling muscles.

Skull stepped forward as well. “Me and Fox can lend a hand! We ain’t weight lifters or anythin’, but our Personas are the strongest around!” He held out a hand for his friend to high-five, but the artist was already on his way. Skull shrugged and jogged after him, following the Scout down the tunnel. It was a straight shot past the dwarf’s spent flares until they reached the end of the mineshaft, a cave full of half-mined minerals and loose rubble where Big Band awaited them. By his side rested a giant [url=https://i.imgur.com/GUy74WI.png]box sled[/url] that sat on wooden runners rather than wheels. 

As Skull looked around for a minecart, confused, Braum got to the heart of the matter. He went straight for the enormous object and pushed against it to get an idea of its weight. It barely budged. “Oho, this will be a worthy challenge!”

It took Skull another second to realize that there weren’t actually any minecarts around, and that he was looking at the load that needed shifting. “Wait, for real? We gotta move that thing!?”
The detective looked just as incredulous. “This is all the muscle we got?” He coughed, which sent a ripple of sound through his brass. “I mean, I’m glad to have ya, Mister Braum in particular, but look at the damn thing, will ya? No wheels is gonna make this a pain in the brass.” He removed his hat to run a mechanical hand across his scalp, then replaced it with a shiver when he felt the cold on his skin. “Where’s that telekinetic redhead when you need her.”

Fox stroked his chin despite his lack of whiskers. “I believe that Miss Jesse stayed at that medieval retirement home,” he pronounced.

“Hang on, here’s the problem!” He turned to see Skull pointing down into the sled, having clambered up on top. “It’s full of rocks and dust and stuff! Couldn’t we just, I dunno, get it out?”

The Scout, determined to show Fox how a contemplative pose really looked, tugged at his bushy red beard. “I thought of that. Would be easy too, ‘cause Deep Rock tech pickaxes delete whatever basic stone we mine with ‘em. Trouble is, without stuff in there to bolster the wood, we couldn’t just hit this thing to move it, or it’d break. We’d ‘ave to push the bastard.”

“Which is a whole lotta trouble, ‘cause while we got hittin’ power, we ain’t got pushin’ power outside o’ me an’ Braum here,” Band observed. He looked over to see Fox crouched on the tracks. “Got any ideas, son?”

After a moment of thinking the teenager gave a slow nod. “If I call upon Goemon to freeze these tracks, we’ll have less friction to deal with, will we not?”

“Good thinkin’!” Skull clapped him on the shoulder. “While you’re doin’ that, I’m gonna go grab Mona. Movin’ this thing’ll be a whole lot easier with a whole-ass car on our side!”

Band smiled, his faith renewed. “We might have a shot at this, after all.” The scout nodded in agreement and mantled up onto the giant sled where he could start lightening the load. Skull and Fox busied themselves with their own tasks, while the mighty duo of Band and Braum prepared for some heavy-duty pushing.

Back in the main cavern, however, trouble was afoot. Practically the moment Mona rolled his eyes and ran off after Skull, Necronomicon sent out an alert. “We’ve got monsters incoming!” she announced. “Probably because of the noise. They’re coming…that way!” She pinged a section of wall at the back of the cave, amidst the thickest scaffolding. There, a boarded-over passageway led deeper into the mountain, but only darkness lay beyond the slats. With plenty of heroes on hand, nobody was really worried about whatever lay on the other side–until the Scout’s flares chanced to run it, plunging the depths of the cavern into darkness. And naturally, it was then that hideous screeches issued forth, and the boards exploded outward. From the tunnel emerged an [url=https://i.imgur.com/T84hGHo.png]incandescent golem[/url], a brutish colony of extremophile microorganisms as big as Big band himself. It roared and stomped forward, aglow with anger.

At first glance it looked as though that was all, but in the scattered rays that managed to filter down from the cavern’s vaulted ceiling, Poppi’s keep optics cause the briefest of glimpses of something…else. Something that made her pause with her hands on the mechanism, with the enormous weights suspended in the air. Something that darted through the shadows and debris, gaunt and horribly stretched, its purposeful movements a blur, and so very, very fast.

“More adds detected!” Necronomicon warned. “There! No wait, there. I mean there!” She placed ping after ping, unable to keep up with her target. “There’s…two of them! Make that three!”

“We need light!” Joker yelled, summoning Lamia. “Set fire to everything you can!”

In an instant Poppi let go of the mechanism, transforming into QT Pi mode as the weights crashed back down. With her Fire core still installed, she took hold of her Variable Saber and unleashed a swath of flame into the dark. In its glow she beheld a [url=https://i.imgur.com/7n0xGBE.png]nightmarish face[/url] soaring through the air straight toward her, feet away from her own. Then her sword arm clattered to the ground, severed at the elbow by an unseen claw. As she staggered the monster landed on the wall behind her, turned, and sprang at Tora. With clenched teeth the Nopon intercepted the attempted throat rip with his bare left wing, then with all the fury he could muster swung Beast’s hammer at the wretched, half-glimpsed head. His weapon smashed the floor instead, and when he looked up the monster was gone.

By that time Poppi had already seized her Variable Saber with her other hand, as well as embraced the old adage about desperate times. She turned her thrusters to full blast and spun in a flaming whirlwind, warding the creature off with the glow of her dancing blade. Tora thought about setting the platform on fire, but if the mechanism was damaged, there would be no way out. “Poppi, switch to Light core!” he choked out, trying to staunch his bleeding, and at the end of her maneuver his companion obliged. Her brilliant beam, thrust forward, created a beacon of illumination in the rightmost part of the cavern, but their assailant would not be so easily deterred.

[center][h3]Ms Fortune[/h3]
[b]Location:[/b] Carcass Isle - Where All Things Must Come
Level 7 Nadia (31/70)
Koopa Troop’s [@DracoLunaris], Blazermate’s [@Archmage MC], Hat Kid’s [@Dawnrider], Geralt’s [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN], Ace Cadet’s [@Yankee], Sakura's [@Zoey Boey],  Link’s [@Gentlemanvaultboy], Delsin’s [@Rockin Strings]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1727[/center]

One the initial shock wore off, Nadia wiped her tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, still somewhat dumbfounded by the now-undeniable fact that she cried in the first place. Did this ghoul have some sort of mental power? She didn’t feel the least bit sad, as a quick reexamination of the gruesome scene quickly confirmed. ‘Appalled’, ‘disgusted’, and ‘horrified’ were all much better words for how she felt about the detestable thing that spewed out in a pile of its mother’s entrails, wobbled on shaky knees like a circus clown on stilts, and wept in an ultimately decrepit voice that better suited a death-stricken nonagenarian than a newborn. This monster was a living abomination born of a deceased progenitor–like a stillbirth, but in reverse. A stillmother, maybe? Whatever it was, it was awful, plain and simple, and although she felt a degree of pity for the thing, Nadia couldn’t bring herself to extend it any sympathy. After all there existed no shared feeling or understanding between them, and how could there be? This thing wasn’t human, it was alien, it was…

[i]A baby?[/i] she repeated, taken aback. By now, after the group’s misspent time in the Maw, she should have known what to expect from Sakura and her somewhat overdeveloped sense of empathy, but the Street Fighter’s inner conflict still took her by surprise. The poor girl was just too easily affected by pathos. Such naivete was endearing, enviable even, and Nadia didn’t want to see that precious heart of hers numbed by pain or disillusion. Not in the way hers had been, certainly. At the moment however, this was neither an opportunity for denial nor debate. Her mission -everyone’s mission- was clear, and it aligned with the primal urge that stirred in instinctive hatred deep inside Nadia Fortune: this thing needed to be put out of its misery. All that stood before them was a stepping stone between the Seekers of Light and the Lord of Light, whose destruction would undo this untenable confluence of worlds and restore everything to how it should be. Hell, maybe it’d even give this thing a happy ending in whatever world it was from. Nadia didn’t know or particularly care. Maybe if Galeem appointed an actual, literal baby as his guardian, they could spend time on doubt and deliberation. But this was not that time.

Those not paralyzed by sentimentality prepared themselves. Remembering how things went back in the village with everyone too close together, the Koopa Troop spread out over a section of shoreline. Geralt already held his monster-slaying silver sword in hand, and being a pragmatic fellow he did not squander the opportunity to conjure a magic shield for himself. Hatty quelled her misgivings, reined in that fresh stress that had begun to gnaw at her mind, and raised her parasol like a rapier. Blazermate, looking snazzy in her new kimono, got busy topping everyone up. She even marked the monster’s weak spot for everyone, projecting an actual two-dimensional target on their enemy in the form of a bright white dot. It lay on the back of the Orphan’s neck, which struck Nadia as a pretty pedestrian weak spot, but hopeful nonetheless. The sooner the group could deal with this, the more mentally sound everyone would be.

Bowser certainly seemed to think so. Brazen as ever, the Koopa King swaggered down the black-sand beach while his crew set up shop, planning to petition the monster for a fight the way someone might ask for directions. The casual approach earned him a couple curious stares, especially from Bella, who ended up wondering if this was how the heroes really went about things. Geralt even risked a raised voice to ascertain the big lizard’s intentions. Nadia, meanwhile, came to a different realization. “Oh, oh, oh,” she murmured, “He’s gonna get its attention so we can get the drop on it. Gotta get ready.” So far the feral hadn’t figured Bowser to be the strategic type, but in this case she was happy to be proven wrong. Well before he reached his destination, however, Link went to relieve him of pole position. [i]These hero types, man.[/i] Crazy as it seemed to Nadia, the Hero of the Wild wanted to be the first to sample whatever their enemy had in store for them. As she circled around toward the opposite side from the Troop, she watched with bated breath, waiting for the tension bubbling up inside her to burst.

[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ahfb7M7jYvA&ab_channel=Shirrako[/youtube][/center]

The Orphan of Kos craned its head around, and Nadia’s breath caught in her throat. Though a newborn, its skin was wrinkled, both across its forehead and the cheeks pulled back to expose a lipless -no, [i]leshless[/i]- jaw, fixed in a permanent rictus grin beneath sunken, glassy eyes. Those pearlescent eyes settled on Link, just as he planned, and the Orphan tilted its head atop a neck that was much too long. As it turned its mouth lolled open, stretching far wider than any mouth had a right to. So emaciated was its body across its bones that the hero could seen its lungs slowly inflate beneath its tight-stretched skin, only a few inches over the gash in its stomach where the remnants of a fleshy umbilical cord still dangled, but the sight still didn’t prepare him for the scream that blasted forth from the thing’s interment being. It was a horrid, primeval howl, an expression of purest, truest rage, and before the Orphan finished screaming it began to move.

It ran the first dozen paces on its three-toed feet, hunched over with intent, before it launched itself forward, leaving the opening barrage from the heroes’ gunners in its dust. The pulsating, reddish mass that it lifted overhead had a bladed edge, it gleamed in the odious pallor of that mushy green moon just before the [url=https://i.imgur.com/8tLAW5R.png]Orphan[/url] brought it down on the spot where Link had been determined to make his stand. Thanks to both his readiness and Ace’s Haste Rain, Link had been able to get out of the way, and it was a good thing, too. The Orphan’s blow rent the earth, scattering a blast of pebbles, sand, and blackened shells in the upheaval, and no sooner did the monster touch down than it started attacking again. It wielded its weapon like a man possessed, swinging from side to side and pounding again and again, involving not just Link but those behind him as well. It was quick enough to make everyone appreciate the resident Monster Hunter’s widespread support, and worse still, just about every single slash hit like a truck, strong enough to cleave an ordinary man in half or mash him into meatloaf with a direct hit. A method to its madness proved itself, however, when it veered around to the side with a horizontal sweep, trying to put its attackers between itself and their long-range allies.

While that melee got underway, Nadia hunkered down, feeling a little vindicated. Now that she knew for sure just how execrable this thing was, she could get down to business: strike fast, strike hard. While the big shots commanded the monster’s attention she could attack from the air, deal a chunk of damage, and escape to safety. That said, the fight was furious, especially once the monster got a couple arrows and bullets in it. Bella had joined the brawl and gotten one of her mega-gauntlets (as well as the hand inside) destroyed the instant she tried to block the Orphan’s slam, but rather than gloat over its achievement the monster just kept swinging. Ignoring its hair-raising shrieks as best she could, Nadia took her tail-axe in hand and began to briefly charge up her water pressure. The power built readily thanks to her new spirit, and after a brief delay she rocketed skyward with a great blast of water. Very much like the Orphan had just moments ago, Nadia hurtled through the briny air in a low arc, charging an airdash until the monster gave her the opening she needed. Then she blasted herself straight at it, spinning as she did, and the next second her mightiest chop landed on the monster like a flying guillotine. "Heads...UP!"

It carved a gash through its mottled bone-white flesh, but her tailblade hung for no more than a split second before it exited in a spray of wine-red blood and stuck into the sand. Her efforts amounted to little more than blip on the monster’s radar, but as she relaxed her tail for quick retrieval Nadia found that the Orphan wanted a piece of her, anyway. She avoided its diagonal slash purely by separating her left arm before it could, allowing the blade of its placenta to pass through her vital fluid harmlessly, then barely bent backward in time to limbo beneath a horizontal slash that missed her chest by centimeters. “Gahh!” The melee fighters came forward to help, but the Orphan wasn’t done. It released its hold on its weapon, revealing it to be attached to its wrist by a dubious cord, and swept the whole thing around in a circle like a giant, fleshy flail. Nadia landed on her rear and scrambled backward as the Orphan carved a furrow in the ground in front of her, then with a face of pure panic twisted around to dash off before the second revolution could rip her apart.

Nadia landed with a roll and turned back, her fear replaced by anger despite the outrageously near miss. She watched the Orphan finish its revolution, then pull a hunk of living meat from its weapon that it plunged into the sand. Though its move probably earned it a couple hits, the bloody geyser that exploded up from the ground the next moment paid any assailants back with interest. It didn’t look like this thing took hits normally, which meant no combos, at least until the team’s efforts broke its posture. Or so Nadia hoped. [i]Hit and run it is[/i]. She took a deep breath and charged back in just as the Orphan pulled off an uppercut swing so strong it arced over its head and smashed the ground behind it, hurling one melee fighter away with a grievous injury. Nadia winced. Even with Blazermate around, this was going to suck for everyone.

[center][h3]The Chalk Prince and the Fallen Child, and the Skeleton[/h3]
[b]Location:[/b] Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Frisk’s [@Majoras End], Papyrus’ [@Dark Cloud][/center]

As Frisk stood in the central hub of the Warrens, peering about at its people, it became steadily more clear that this would be no easy task. Even to broach the subject with someone would be a challenge, for the question on the child’s mind was one that inherently cast doubt upon the character of anyone they posed it to. Besides, it wasn’t as if the people who mistreated Treat could be identified on sight; Frisk could see no antagonistic badges or signage on display, no nasty slogans, no wolfsbane flowers, no peddlers of anti-wolf spray, no hunters prowling the place with silver bullets, and definitely no burning effigies. Nothing at all, in fact, seemed amiss in this picturesque springtime neighborhood. Those who loathed or feared Treat weren’t outrageous caricatures, but ordinary people. There wasn’t anything for Frisk to do but suck it up and, as politely as possible, ask.

First, the kid approached a couple of rabbit-folk that stood apart from the rest, their attention drawn by barked commands. Only one burrow in the whole Warrens featured a couple training dummies alongside the garden patch on its hilltop, and it was there that the furriest of this district’s denizens seemed to be busy training. The quietly confident woman was obviously in charge, her no-nonsense voice put to work with a string of near-constant instructions and corrections for her protege, who in contrast looked like a total nervous wreck. Judging by their features they seemed to be related, and a scant difference in years suggested a brother-sister relationship. When Frisk got close, however, a single notable word cast doubt on that reasonable conclusion.

“Can’t we slow down a little, mom!?” Yarne panted, bent over with his hands on his knees after an extended bout of flailing his limbs against the dummy. “Maybe this is easy for you, but it sure doesn’t come naturally to me!”

Panne crossed her arms. “If you keep taking it easy, you’re not going to improve. You must practice hard, so that when the time comes, you’ll fight hard.”

With a groan Yarne plopped down on a barrel, where he sat as he wiped his brow. “When the time comes, I’ll just run away, like I always do! I can’t afford to go extinct…not when our species depends on me!”

His mother gave a slight sigh and prepared to respond, but as her ears twitched, she fell silent. Even before Yarne’s gaze locked onto Frisk as the child marched up the stepping-stone path to his family’s hilltop, the ever-alert Panne turned around to receive her guest. The attention meant that Frisk didn’t need to worry about tapping the woman on the shoulder, which would have been quite the feat given their height difference, anyway. A spark of recognition hit her, and Panne gave Frisk a nod. “Hello, man-spawn,” she greeted, while her cowardly sun looked on with brows furrowed.

When confronted with the kid’s question, however, it was Yarne that answered first. “Treat?” he repeated, running his nails through his shaggy hair. “That, that uh, sounds familiar. Um…should I?”

Panne shifted her weight from one leg to the other, an even expression on her face. “That would be the young Wolfskin who’s afraid of her own shadow.”

In an instant Yarne’s brows shot up, his eyes wide, and his posture went rigid. “Wait, her!? What about her!? She’s not here, is she!?”

Another sigh escaped Panne as she walked up to put a calming hand on her nervous son’s shoulder. “No, Yarne, she’s not. And take it easy, will you? She hasn’t done anything.”

“But she’s a [i]wolfskin[/i]!” Yarne clutched at his ears in near panic, pulling them down on either side of his head. “When she shapeshifts, we’re on the menu!”

Panne shot an apologetic look at Frisk before turning her attention back to Yarne. “You’ve been listenin’ to too many rumors, kid. Have you ever even seen her with a Beaststone?”

“N-no…” Thinking, Yarne relaxed his grip on his ears slightly. “But doesn’t that mean she can’t control her transformation? If she loses control, it’s over for me, I just know it!”

“Calm. Down. If that happens, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We Taguel can handle ourselves in a fight. But until then, give it a rest, would you? You’re makin’ us look bad.”

About that time, Papyrus appeared in bombastic fashion. He blindsided Frisk with a giant hug, chattering on about dogs or something. Although his presence did little to improve Yarne’s mental state, it gave the Taguels an excuse to get back to their business. “Not to be rude or anything, but if you’re done here, mind lettin’ us be?” Panne asked. “Yarne here’s got more drills to run.” Her son seemed ready to protest, but a sharp look made him hang his head, resigned to his fate.