[center][h3]Forbidden Kingdom - Esaka’s Low Tier[/h3]
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (129/150) Level 11 Big Band (32/110)
Junior, Rika & Amaterasu’s [@DracoLunaris] Roland’s [@Archmage MC] Zenkichi’s [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN] Pit, Primrose & Therion’s [@Yankee] Sakura & Juri’s [@Zoey Boey] Captain Falcon’s [@Double] Harry and Kim’s [@Eviledd1984] Terry’s [@Terry Bogard]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1273[/center]

Before everyone could start running around in different directions looking for dojos, with Nadia at the front of the pack, Terry jumped in with some advice, as well as a request. Apparently the ten minutes he’d been with the Seekers and a little hearsay were enough to convince him to throw that flashy hat of his into the ring with them, and if that was what he wanted, far be it from the feral to stop him. “Sure! I mean, I purr-sonally don’t mind you joinin’ up at least. Bet Pit won’t either, he seems like a more-the-merrier kinda guy, but he’d be the one I ask I s’pose.” Her tail flicked back and forth as she thought about his other suggestion with his arms crossed. “Ahh…yeah, I’m with Zenkichi. Not hungry right now, and I’d better get the dojo thing sorted out before I slack off, ‘cause I take relaxin’ seriously.”

“In the end, it doesn’t really matter who we sign up with,” Band reminded everyone. “As long as we sign up with someone so we can join the tournaments. We’re not here to learn, after all.” Still, he had to admit that some options seemed better than others, even going off the names alone. At least the Seekers were spoiled for choice, with more random dojos laid out in practically every direction they looked. Then again, Band wasn’t sure he even wanted to enter. Unless he found proof that it would take tournament participation to reach the Forbidden Kingdom’s guardian, his time would be better spent elsewhere. His gaze settled on Terry. “Why don’t we drop by Pao Pao at lunchtime, after everyone’s got their sign-ups squared away?”

That seemed like a good idea to Nadia, but it would be up to the others to decide. That just left the matter of dojo registration, and just as the feral was about to dash off, a certain someone discreetly emerged from the background and sauntered up to the Seekers. “Oh, there you are!” Nadia greeted Roland, glad to have at least one teammate back from wherever he’d disappeared to. “Where’ve you been?”

The Fixer explained what he’d found about the city, including an up-to-date list of every dojo in the city, separated by tier. “Oh, nice. You’re on a roll…and!” Nadia jogged over to skim it for herself alongside the others, forced by the lack of information to make inferences based on the name of each dojo alone. [i]Hellish Quart…Death Cargo…Catfight…Girl Fight?[/i] Some of them sounded highly suspect, more like adult media than legitimate martial arts organizations. More out of curiosity than anything else, Nadia looked up at the mid-tier and high-tier dojos, only to do a double take at an entry in the mid-tier section. “Hang on a sec. NMO? As in New Meridian Order?” While never able to attend one of their wrestling matches in person, the feral loved watching them on the little TV set in Yu-Wan’s restaurant. If a fighting organization from her world really existed in Esaka, maybe she didn’t need to bother with any low-tier dojos after all. 

“Mid-tier, huh?” She glanced up past the dingy rooftops, beyond the Pools toward the much nicer-looking cityscape about halfway to the top. “I’ve gotta see this!” She dashed over to Big Band and tugged at his coat. “Hey, you comin’? If it’s really the NMO, maybe the two of us could join in!”

Band looked doubtful. Even if it really was the NMO he’d heard of, what business did a cyborg detective and a thieving alley cat have with wrestling? Still, he didn’t want to rain on Nadia’s parade too badly, and he did want to see Esaka’s Middle Tier for himself. For now, he turned his attention toward Zenkichi. “You go ahead, Fortune. It’s a long way up, so I’ll catch ya later.”

As Nadia scampered off, Band plodded over to his fellow detective a moment after Zenkichi made his request to Azuma. Upon hearing the proposal, the investigator seemed to light up. “Oh, well, that’d be just swell! We’re open, of course. Frankly, most low-tier dojos are. Always desperate for new talent that might bring ‘em some attention and help lift ‘em out of obscurity. ‘Course, some are so desperate to show off their strength that they end up scarin’ new folks away. And some like being small, maybe imagining that it makes them some underrated, exclusive elite, but that’s not us. We’re pretty casual here at the Kyanta dojo, so…yeah! We’d be happy to have you.” He rubbed his snout. “Actually…it’s been so long I forgot how registration works. A tryout might be good though, yeah. Once the others see what you’re made of, everything’ll come up roses, I’m sure. This way!”

Azuma turned to lead Zenkichi toward his own dojo, but Band called out to him. “Just a second, if ya don’t mind.” Nodding, Azuma stopped and turned back to hear him out. The detective gave him a grateful nod. “I wanted to ask, bein’ a visitor here and all. What exactly is it that makes dojos high-tier, or low-tier? Is it just how strong and rich they are?”

“Hmm…no, not quite,” Azuma replied, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “In fact, in some ways it’s the other way ‘round. Dojos get rich [i]because[/i] their high tier. Most folks here in Esaka would say the deciding factor is just one thing: skill. It’s not that low-tier fighters are weak, see. Quite the opposite, in fact! Many low-tier fighters are incredibly strong. But there’s one thing you’ve got to understand, a sort of tenet we all live by. A fight’s only as good as its rules.”

Azuma paused for a moment to let that sink in. “Put another way, what makes fights worth watching? Worth betting on? Why, being fair, of course. That’s not to say all fighters ought to be evenly matched, heavens no. But having rules for what you can and can’t do, and how things work, is vitally important. That’s what the Heavenly Principles are for: to keep things relatively balanced.” He shrugged. “Of course, not everyone agrees what’s fair and what isn’t. Plenty of people scorn the Heavenly Principles, which I bet you heard for yourselves if you really met seething yokai.”

He put his hands in his pockets and continued. “In low-tier dojos, see, there’s rarely any rules. Anything goes. It can be fun, but for serious competition? Hah. Laughable. The high-tier dojos have the most established rulesets that everyone accepts and goes by, which is why they’re used for the tournaments. They offer the most interesting fights and fighters. In the end, it’s all up to the whims of the yokai. As for the Heavenly Principles…nobody really knows.”

Instead of answers, Band found himself left with only more questions. “Huh,” he mused. “And these rules…what happens if you break ‘em?”

“Well…the answer’s not so simple,” Azuma replied, frowning. “The rules aren’t just civil laws. In the tournaments, they’re reality itself. If you are fool enough to run afoul of the Principles or the Four Kings, though, you’ll get banned at best.” He left the worst case scenario up to the Seekers’ imagination.

“I see.” It sounded to Band like Esaka was inhabited by some sort of entity that could bend the laws of reality, and he did not like that some bit. Surely the Heavenly Principles couldn’t be the Guardian that Gold Team was seeking? Band wanted to know more, but he knew he’d need to be very careful when it came to messing with godlike beings like that. Just what had the Seekers gotten themselves into…?

With no more questions to answer for now at least, Azuma led Zenkichi away to find the Ultra Fight de Kyanta dojo. It turned out to be a pretty nondescript building, at least from the outside. On the inside it looked more like a gym than a traditional dojo, with its main room a big, empty box with the blue walls, floors and ceiling criss-crossed by lavender lines to make a grid. Aside from a storage room for things like training equipment, and a small office, the structure seemed pretty much empty. Today, only four fighters were around, all practicing in some form or another. First and foremost was Kyanta themself, a [url=https://i.imgur.com/wKUVPk3.png]yellow pomeranian[/url] with a white headband. They appeared to be training Anna, a [url=https://i.imgur.com/qYx4Yrp.png]green -skinned girl[/url] with a snake tongue, while the resident judo practitioner (and racoon) [url=https://i.imgur.com/kr3yk2D.png]Chihiro[/url] offered unsolicited advice from where he sat. Finally, the pig-man [url=https://i.imgur.com/h42vjAD.png]Spike[/url] sat opposite Chihiro, playing battle music with his guitar.

At the arrival of Azuma, Zenkichi, and Big Band, Kyanta looked over at the three detectives, curious. Anna promptly did a dive kick, then poked Kyanta five times in the shin as they floated in midair. She then unleashed a super that consisted of swinging one arm upward, accompanied by mouth sounds, and poked her opponent five more times before finishing the combo with a slide. It was like no style of fighting Band had ever seen, and between its bizarre looks and sounds, he found himself at an utter loss for words. After a few seconds of laying on the ground, defeated, Kyanta came to and slowly picked themselves up. “Azuma,” they barked. “Long time, no see.”

The investigator nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“What brings you here?” Kyanta crossed their arms.

Azuma stepped aside to gesture toward Zenkichi. “This fine fellow wants to apply to your dojo in order to join a tournament. He’s fresh from a brawl with seething yokai, so he knows his way around a fight. What do you think?”

All four of the Kyanta members seemed surprised at the prospect of a new recruit, although Kyanta tried to play it cool. “Oh? Well then. If you’ve come here, you must have good taste. I commend your spirit. I won’t ask too much; if you can defeat any one of us in a one-on-one, I’d say you’ve earned the right to represent us.” They crossed their arms as Anna, Chihiro, and Spike came over to stand alongside them. “Your move, mister.”

[center][h3]Frozen Highlands - the Midnight Walk[/h3]
Lvl 8 Sandalphon (58/80) Level 5 Heismay (22/50)
Edward’s [@DracoLunaris] Blazermate & Sectonia’s [@Archmage MC] Geralt’s [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN] Ace Cadet’s [@Yankee] Roxas & Ganondorf’s [@Double], Celica’s [@Sadu] Chosen Undead’s [@Simple Unicycle], Ramattra’s [@XoXKieroBombXoX]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1253

[b]Nameless Stagecoach[/b]
𖥞: 8/8 | 🛡️: 8/8 | [b]Equipment:[/b] Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/(None)/(None)/(None) | [b]Companion[/b]: None[/center]

Throughout the first leg of the Seekers’ journey along the Midnight Walk, Sandalphon mostly sat by herself inside the great metal stagecoach, compiling environmental data. This wagon featured no windows, which while useful in case of attack, proved inconvenient to her for now since she couldn’t see outside to get a feel for the terrain and inhabitants of the new region. That left relying on her teammates who chose to forge ahead, whose points of view she could see through her network connection, albeit from a limited isometric view. Though it seemed unlikely that they’d run into any real trouble so soon after leaving Snowdin, one could never be too sure, so she silently spectated via a half-dozen light screens at once both to watch for danger and to gradually assemble a map. Only if absolutely necessary would the archangel chime in with her observations or advice, since she wanted to demonstrate her trust in her team and not micromanage if she could help it. Some of them did encounter enemies out in the wilds, but they were nothing that the Seekers couldn’t handle. As a result, despite all her mental stimulation, Sandalphon’s ride was a fairly peaceful one. Except, of course, when the stagecoach hit a bump in the road.

One matter did arise that she needed to pay some attention to, not long after Edward dealt with the looming threat of a blustering Ty-foo in his typical pragmatic manner. His recon drones reported a snowfield up ahead, surrounded by dense coniferous forest, where the hidden roads presented a degree of ambiguity. Sandalphon considered requesting that somebody dig or melt some snow above the Midnight Walk and the branching paths to see which matched her current road’s material composition, but that would be tedious work without guarantee of result, since the paths around here could all easily be made the same way. The deciding factor was Edward’s report of Urriki marauders lurking around the northern road. If it was just a ratfolk ambush, Sandalphon assumed her team could handle it, but his mention of a wooden bridge over frigid water gave her pause. Forged of black steel and as big as a house, the stagecoach was monstrously heavy, to say nothing of the golems and extra baggage. Even if the vermin hadn’t tampered with the bridge in some way in order to waylay travelers, it could very well collapse beneath the Seekers as they went across, and a disaster like that might well be unsalvageable. With that in mind, White Team’s leader made her decision.

“We’ll proceed along the western route,” Sandalphon announced to the team. After that, she restricted her comm line to Edward alone. “Thank you for your reconnaissance work. As expected of a veteran commander, your skills and insight are an invaluable asset to the team.”

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/v1pwff0.png[/img][/center]

To the west of the crossroads clearing, the land began to get wilder. Fresh snow fell from the heavens onto the boughs of pine trees that seemed to grow taller and taller as the Seekers advanced, their lower limbs increasingly gnarled and tangled. Where there had before been little pockets of civilization like the fishing village with its smoothie shop, there were now only small, empty ruins, ravaged by the elements and time. Icy crags shot up like giant castle walls, dividing up sections of wooded countryside, and above everything towered gigantic stone swords hundreds of feet high, as if planted throughout the landscape by primeval behemoths. 

Only one notable building could be found in this wintry wilderness: an abandoned [url=https://i.imgur.com/Ut2gKtr.png]lumber mill[/url] that straddled the Midnight Walk, its central second story overhang just high enough that the huge stagecoach could rumble beneath it with just ten inches of clearance. Nearby rested a broad-shouldered, bearded old brute by the name of [url=https://i.imgur.com/rTFlUwl.png]Warden Rust[/url], one hand resting on the long handle of his heavy mace as he sat by a crackling campfire. Heismay, obliged to abandon his rooftop post and walk beside the wagon, shuffled over to pay the big man a visit. “Good morning, sir. May we pass through your mill?”

“Go right ahead my friends, it ain’t mine after all,” the warrior told him affably, waving a dismissive hand toward the derelict building. “Keep an eye out, though. I’ve seen my fair share of places like this, and when good folks move out, bad things tend to move in.”

Heismay nodded gravely as he looked around, noting the inordinate number of crows that seemed to gather about the place, their beady black eyes watching in ominous silence. “That I can certainly believe. Farewell, sir. Stay warm and safe out there.”

Rust chuckled wryly, aware of just how likely that would be. “You too, buddy. You too.”

As the stagecoach squeezed through the lumber mill, Heismay -at home in the darkness and old, abandoned places- decided to prowl around a little, abetted by Sandalphon’s supervision. He poked through the disused rooms, finding only broken-down machines and piles of old junk, meticulously but inexplicably arranged. Seeing nothing useful, he kept moving. The place was dreadfully quiet aside from the creaking of wood planks and the whistle of the wind through the timbers, until his big ears caught the sound of a shrill, pained moaning. Assuming it to be an injured animal, he delved deeper to investigate. After slipping through a gap in a barricaded door, he peered around a large room overgrown with roots and filled with clutter. Everywhere he looked he saw knick-knacks, trinkets, busted-up furniture, bones, and wire. A lit lantern lay at the foot of a table, and as he stared at it Heismay realized that the vocalizations had stopped. 

Now he could hear only a ragged, agonized breathing, and the clank of metal instruments against one another, growing louder and closer. Quietly, he ducked behind a box, and the next moment the creature came into view. Hulking, misshapen, and hobbling on two prosthetic legs, it was no animal–but it couldn’t be human, either. Not while making sounds like those. As he hid, Heismay’s eyes drifted to a [url=https://i.imgur.com/eQMnMPy.png]small wooden totem[/url] hanging from a peg nearby. It seemed interesting, so for the sake of not returning empty-handed, the eugief held his breath as he reached out to take it. Taking it pulled the poorly-set peg out of its socket, and the little piece of wood tumbled to the floor with a light clack. With a squawk, [url=https://i.imgur.com/MS7urQJ.png]Scrapbeak[/url] turned toward the source of the noise with its axe raised, but by then Heismay was already gone.

A few moments later, Heismay caught up to the stagecoach as it exited the lumber mill, the totem tied to his belt. Ahead, the wilderness continued, dark and dangerous. Fewer Urriki could be found here, but in their place were barbaric [url=https://i.imgur.com/uEQyL7B.png]reavers[/url], each warrior masked by living bone. More aggressive and powerful, the reavers stalked the woods in cohesive units, ready and willing to put their savage strength and cunning to the test against anyone they found. However, more fantastical creatures could also be found in these forests, including the Reindrix the Seekers needed. Now, the beast tamers among them could go out and do their job, ever watchful of the twisted shapes that darted among the trees.