[center][h3]Esaka - the Pools[/h3]
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (183/150) Level 11 Big Band (79/110)
Amaterasu’s [@DracoLunaris] Roland’s [@Archmage MC] Zenkichi’s [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN] Pit’s [@Yankee] Sakura & Juri’s [@Zoey Boey] Captain Falcon’s [@Double] Harry and Kim’s [@Eviledd1984] Terry’s [@Terry Bogard] Yayama’s [@Chevaleresse] Grima’s [@Goggy]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1049 / 1234[/center]

It wasn’t long after Nadia wished her fellow NMO fighters luck and went on her way that she got distracted again. Of course, it wasn’t like she minded, or that hunting down Beowulf in the Tekken section of the Pools tier was a pressing concern of hers. She’d been thinking about the city’s combative customs and finally came to a conclusion: that Esaka’s tournaments were actually kind of like a festival. Sure, there were plenty of differences, but the excited communal spirit was the same. New Meridian didn’t exactly host any festivals, but the Dagonians of Little Innsmouth had plenty of special occasions that they traditionally celebrated throughout the year, the dragonfish boat festival in summer and New Year. Once included in the Fishbone Gang, Nadia had always loved participating in those holidays, especially because she wasn’t a Dagonian herself. The key to having a good time was never following a stricture schedule for enjoyment optimization, but simply going with the flow. Getting lost among the attractions was just part of the fun.

One fight she stopped to check out involved two brunette teens, [url=https://i.imgur.com/C9zKTuf.png]one in blue[/url] (with bug eyes and bunny ears) and [url=https://i.imgur.com/ph3tkeH.png]one in yellow[/url] (who wielded a blunt sword and a sharp knife). There were a few more spectators in attendance than usual, and judging by both their chatter and the pace of the battle itself, the duel was one-to-one and nearing its conclusion. Linne, the girl in the yellow hoodie, fought with astonishing speed and excellent combat instincts. Nadia considered herself fast, but this kid seemed swift enough -especially in short bursts- to leave her in the dust. In the few moments she stopped moving, Nadia could glimpse her expression: a blank, deadpan stare, as if everything she did and experienced was just par for the course. In contrast, her opponent Arina fought empty-handed, armed only with an irrepressible spirit and never-so-die attitude. Her primary power appeared to be the ability to shoot out pink hearts and energy stars, though since Linne could run circles around her, Arina’s projectiles showed up mostly as combo extenders. It was a classic game of cat-and-mouse, with Arina trying to pin Linne down and combo her before the dual-blader put her down with a death of a thousand cuts.

Despite the very different power sets, the match was closer than it looked, and fairly exciting. Nadia didn’t intend to play favorites, but she couldn’t help but root for her fellow feral (or at least, feral-adjacent) who happened to be decked out in her favorite color. She supported Arina silently, of course, as she didn’t want to throw either fighter off her game. The off-duty fighters and yokai that surrounded the [url=https://i.imgur.com/2UczQo4.png]metal construction platform[/url] where the two fought were of like mind, watching closely as the bout intensified. The few lucky enough to snag benches in the neighboring rest areas were practically on the edge of their seats, while yokai like the mustached, helmeted [url=https://i.imgur.com/F9bKYMM.png]Castelius[/url] and bearded, wispy [url=https://i.imgur.com/aGRkjSO.png]Iloo[/url] naturally just floated. Nobody was more intent on the results, though, than the [url=https://i.imgur.com/VBFXFGd.png]blonde boy[/url] with an impressive red sword standing a few feet to the right of the railing Nadia now leaned on. “C’mon, Linne,” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched. “C’mon…!”

After a couple more quick exchanges, the match was down to the wire. Though she took an early lead, Arina had fallen prey to three mixups in a row and was on her last legs, with Linne coming back from a huge life deficit and only another stray hit or two from winning. The reversal of fortune had left Arina hopelessly overwhelmed, unable to grasp the victory already slipping through her fingers. With her mental in such a state, Linne probably didn’t even need to get fancy. Nadia held her breath as the dual-blader blitzed forward, somersaulted into the air over her target, then airdashed backward for a final mixup. At that moment, though, Arina surrounded herself in intense flames, then shot straight upward in a blazing punch. It powered through Linne’s attack and depleted the last third of her health in one explosive burst that left the girl face-down on the corrugated metal.

The Heavenly Principles quickly declared the victor. [b]ROUND THREE: ARINA WINS![/b]

A few of the spectators cheered, Nadia among them, though more gaped in surprise or winced in frustration. Hyde clapped a hand to his head, dismayed, then gathered himself to leap toward the stage and check on Linne. Not sure what to make of the crowd’s reaction, Nadia waved up at the nearby yokai. “Hey there! This fight a big deal or somethin’?”

As the Castelius floated off in a huff, his mustache quivering in anger, the Iloo drifted down toward her, looking mighty pleased. [i]”Hoo-ee! I’ll say!”[/i] he told her, his voice wizened with age but still full of joy. [i]”This is a pretty big upset! That Linne girl ain’t super famous, but she’s better-known than Arina, and she was the favorite to win for sure. Made myself a pretty penny off the doubters back there, heehee!”[/i]

Nadia crossed her arms, grinning. “Sounds like I oughta be placin’ some bets myself. You got any money on Mortal Kombat?”

The Iloo rolled his eyes. [i]”A little, just to keep things interestin’, but Mortal Kombat’s gotten pretty stale, li’l miss! If you ain’t bettin’ Scorpion or Sub-zero, it just ain’t worth your time, and Sub-zero ain’t even competitin’ this go-round!”[/i]

“Lemme give ya a little purr-sonal advice, then. Just hear meowt~” Nadia leaned forward, one hand by her mouth conspiratorially, and the Iloo eagerly floated closer. “You better put some money on this cute catgirl by the name of Ms Fortune, ‘cause her star’s about to rise! If anyone can beat Shao, she Kahn!”

The yokai chuckled. [i]“Hehe, maybe I will!”[/i]

Nadia waved him goodbye, checked on the arena to make sure Hyde had Linne taken care of, then continued on her merry way.

[hr]

[b]ROUND ONE: FIGHT![/b]

Rather than take the offensive right out of the gate, Band stepped backward to put a little extra distance between himself and the freakish burly tiger known as Rhajang. Unless this creature was a lot more sentient than it looked, with a keen mind hidden behind that stripy exterior, the detective expected nothing but pure aggression. And he was right to be cautious; as soon as the match began, the beast reared up to raise its forepaws as if putting up its dukes. No sooner was the tiger up (and somehow balancing) on its hind legs than it dashed forward to scrape him with savage claws like fistfuls of curved, four-inch knives. Rhajang dished out cruel slashes at a ferocious rate, the power of its bulging biceps behind every blow.

With such raw strength and speed, it was easy to see how Rhajang mauled his way through the first round. The tiger’s ferocious assault could easily make mincemeat out of an ordinary human in a dozen grievous attacks, but Band was made of sterner stuff. He hunkered down and blocked with the help of a steel music stand, the metal frame unfolding in front of him for an extra layer of protection. Rhajang struck his guard again and again, crawling forward just a step between each swipe to counteract the natural pushback and keep the pressure on.

Though each slash did appreciable chip damage, Band quickly began to see a pattern. For all its primal power, the musclebound beast lacked variety, attacking with only a left or right claw slash. It sure didn’t seem inclined to throw him. Band went for a pushblock, thrusting his music stand forward like a big palm to shove the tiger back in the middle of the attack. It reacted with something new: it stretched upward, then fell forward in a double claw slash aimed at his shins. Band intercepted the low blow, but did not feel confident in an interrupt at this distance, so Rhajang quickly crawled up to continue its onslaught of slashes. As clawmarks began to appear across his trench coat, Band clicked his tongue. If this animal wasn’t going to respect him, he would have to teach it to.

“Hey, listen here!” Huge tambourine halves arced outward from his body as he snapped up Rhajang in his [url=https://i.imgur.com/RAAmA5d.png]reversal[/url]. “Beat…Extend!” Band shook the jingles to rattle the tiger’s brain and body with Sound Stun, leaving it to fall limply as he hopped into the air. “Shake, shake!” He popped open one leg to grind his opponent’s ugly mug with [url=https://i.imgur.com/O5wu5zG.png]Jelly Roll[/url]. From there, he followed up with a [url=https://i.imgur.com/qcZHABj.png]giant clarinet spike[/url], which he then twisted to both lift his target higher and floated himself slightly upward. “Swing it!” That set Rhajang up for a megaton drop kick, which Band canceled into a Blockbuster for the grand finale.

“You’re gonna get BEAT!” Still aloft, the detective deployed a set of [url=https://i.imgur.com/ItaBgNX.png]timpani drums[/url] from his chest, then opened up his six sidecaps to extend metal arms tipped with drumsticks the size of morning stars. With each percussive impact, a blast of sound energy both juggled Rhajang and lifted Band higher in a sensational drum solo meant to leave the beat senseless. Spectators and off-duty fighters within a couple hundred feet in every direction turned their eyes toward the noisy spectacle, and though many looked away again just as quickly, some kept their eyes on the unusual duel as both Band and Rhajang dropped back down to the wooden raft with a loud clatter. 

[i]Guess cats don’t always land on their feet,[/i] Band mused. The tiger hit the deck hard, but wasted no time getting up. That combo had been a good start, but now he was flat broke on Dramatic Tension and would need to fight the old-fashioned way. This time, the detective threw himself forward with Brass Knuckle, guessing that a wild beast wouldn’t know how to handle his sliding punch’s armor. He did not expect Rhajang to crouch down and low-profile the move completely. “Huh!” With a snarl it leaped up, burying its claws in his upper chest. Its fangs flashed as it went for the jugular, only to close on the left-hand tube of Band’s respirator. Operating on instinct, it planted its rear legs against Band’s torso and then kicked off, ripping open part of Band’s chest along with his respirator as it sprang away.

The detective stumbled for a moment as air vented from the torn-out apparatus against his face, his expression tight. “Applesauce,” he hissed through gritted teeth. The damage to his respirator would not only make breathing more difficult, but also be a distraction that seriously impacted his focus, and Rhajang was already coming at him again. This time the beast leaped at him in a frightening jump, and Band, unable to use Beat Extend in time, had to settle for blocking. He tried to stop Rhajang’s assault before it could get started with a sudden blurt from his [url=https://i.imgur.com/wV3R8X1.png]bike horn[/url], but lost out and took a full-force claw slash. “Hng!” B♭ experimental oil mixture dripped from the deep grooves–Rhajang must have hit a circulatory tube.

In a lucky turn, though, the tiger seemed completely unable to combo, so its follow-up got blocked. It took another try and another painful blow for the detective to fully internalize the timing, but after that he cut the tiger’s savagery short with a double bike horn bleat. That allowed Band to chain into his [url=https://i.imgur.com/c5BZlnF.png]Pneumatic Slide[/url] trombone kick, follow up with Jelly Roll into the first hit of Sweet Clarinet, land, and keep the pain train rolling with the same string of harmful instruments. Rather than loop a third time, he spent his Sound Stun on Beat Extend, allowing the catshaker to smack Rhajang with a [url=https://i.imgur.com/WkYcd4z.png]double trombone thrust[/url] and finish off with a resounding Brass Knuckle.

[i]Wham![/i] The tiger slammed down on the raft again. Though clearly winded, it growled, rose, and charged, not beaten quite yet. Band rolled his eyes, then pounded the stage with Giant Step. The impact from the huge drum pedal launched Rhajang toward him with a confused yowl, only to meet his heavy Brass Knuckle head-on. [i]CLANG![/i] This time, the beast fell flat on its back, half-conscious and unable to continue–for now.

[b]ROUND ONE: BIG BAND WINDS[/b], the golden letters of the Heavenly Principles pronounced.

Band tried to steady both his breathing and his pounding heart, still struggling with his respirator. Despite the damage he’d sustained, he felt pretty good about this match. Rhajang was fast and strong, sure, but it had no real fighting skill or mental ability. As long as he kept calm and hung in there, Band felt confident that he could win this. He considered taunting the big cat as it shook its head and got up, but he didn’t have any breath to spare, and he knew that his words would be lost on it. More than anything, he couldn’t help but wonder: who registered some random tiger in this tournament, anyway?

[center][h3]Frozen Highlands - Winter Lodge[/h3]
Lvl 9 Sandalphon (57/90) Level 6 Heismay (56/60)
Edward’s [@DracoLunaris] Blazermate & Sectonia’s [@Archmage MC] Geralt’s [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN] Ace Cadet’s [@Yankee] Roxas & Ganondorf’s [@Double], Ramattra and Tenna’s [@XoXKieroBombXoX] Mokou’s [@Goggy]
[b]Word Count:[/b] 1591 / 497

[b][url=https://i.imgur.com/p76VSWM.png]Nameless Stagecoach[/url][/b]
𖥞: 6/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | [color=blue]◆[/color]◆◆◆ | [b]Equipment:[/b] Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/(None) | [b]Companion[/b]: Ratshaker Rat[/center]

Once the matter of the strange dog was sorted out and her teammates all busied themselves settling in, Sandalphon made her way back toward the upstairs bathroom, a little bemused. She couldn’t help but be amazed that some Seekers still had enough energy for Tenna-sponsored minigames after such a long, grueling day of travel and combat. The archangel herself was on her last legs but oddly hesitant to bed down for the night. Despite her fatigue, a reluctant uneasiness gnawed at her, a tense ache of both body and mind. That discomfort told her that even if she tried to rest, she wouldn’t be able to find peace. Not yet, at least. Knowing what she had to do didn’t make setting off on that path any easier, especially since there would be no going back.

In light of this inner turmoil, Sandalphon chose to do something rather out of character for her: treat herself. She didn’t plan to lay claim to any of the bedrooms, and in fact preferred to use one of the expedition sleeping bags, but ever since a rivulet of warm water revealed that the upstairs bath seemed operational, part of her had wanted to give it a try. Normally, she prioritized others over herself to the extent that even the possibility of someone else wanting to make use of a luxury would convince her to spurn it. Tonight, though, a little luxury sounded like a very good idea.

She turned on the faucet, locked the door, and then set about lighting candles around the room, already somewhat soothed by the sound of running water. Even if her skillset involved more ice magic than ever nowadays, she wasn’t any more fond of the cold. Her element was ultimately still water, and nothing healed or sustained life quite like it. After a few minutes, the [url=https://cdn.cgmagonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/until-dawn-remake-2024-03-20_23-31-57_538822.jpg]candlelit bath[/url] was ready. Sandalphon switched off the flow, disrobed, and slowly immersed herself in the water. Immediately, her pupils became carets. The delightful warmth soaked into her weary bones, and she drank it in, like a bearded dragon beneath a heat lamp. At the same time, the combined light of her halo and the candle flames filled the bathroom with a hospitable atmosphere, allowing the archangel to sink up to her chin and finally start to relax.

Though she heard intermittent noises from her teammates outside, scattered throughout the lodge, Sandalphon enjoyed the serene silence. The snowy pine forest outside had been breathtakingly quiet, but with pitch-black shadows and unknown threats in every direction it had been anything but peaceful. In this secure room, this meditative moment, she had the solitude to confront her thoughts and misgivings.

With her physical form at peace, her mind could wander, far beyond the Midnight Walk or the Frozen Highlands. She could remember the long hours of quiet, concentrated study in the offices and libraries of the Lateran Church, and beyond that, the immaculate cathedral of the Illian church in the city of Grams. Although her conversation with Edward earlier about the World of Light and the Seekers’ campaign crossed her mind, she focused instead on a different subject in conjunction with the sordid task ahead of her. She found it unusually difficult to process her thoughts on the matter; maybe voicing them aloud to someone else would help her scattered musings coalesce. But who could she turn to? Right now, she couldn’t afford to divulge her plans to anyone, lest they try to stop her, or inform someone who would.

As she mulled it over, an idea occurred to her. Aboard the orbital elevator, she hadn’t actually recorded her awe-inspiring ascent through the atmosphere through the use of any software. She wasn’t a computer, after all. She had simply bookmarked the memory in her mental database for future retrieval, since her screens could visualize her mental data for others to see. Since she could crystallize visual memories in such a manner, it should be no trouble to do the same for auditory ones. With that in mind, Sandalphon decided to create an audio log. The archangel figured that she could make a number of them over the course of her experiment, so for now, she would start in the abstract. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and began.

“Sandalphon experimental log zero-zero-one. In the years that I worked for the Lateran Church in Piltover, Midgar’s sector one plate, my duties were largely clerical. I could and did administer to the sick and injured with my healing miracles, but as the Angel of Information, I possessed rare talents that opened the doors to vast gulfs of creative and historical data, which I now know stem from countless worlds. Both at work and in my leisure time, a single subject occupied most of my attention: theology.”

“For reference, in the world I hail from, the primary form of organized religion is the Illian Church. The principal figure of the Illian Church is, of course, the goddess Illia. I myself use phrases such as ‘thank Illia’ and ‘praise Illia’ in the same manner that one might say ‘thank god’ and ‘praise god’, but…objectively speaking, Ilia isn’t much of a god.”

“For the record, I will bypass the notion of ‘blasphemy’ entirely for the sake of relaying my findings. The fact of the matter is, Ilia is not a creator deity. In the World of Light, I have read many accounts of other worlds’ gods to whom the creation of lands and peoples, or even entire worlds, is ascribed. The major deed ascribed to Ilia is forging the very first pact with a dragon, that being the holyworm, Elysium. For bringing the world out of an age of darkness and creating the human-dragon coexistence that defines the modern era, she became revered and eventually deified. It is not implausible that Ilia, prior to this act, was an ordinary human.”

Sandalphon paused. She thought of the woman named Ilia she met that day in Grundachdorf, along with the fairy who seemed to be the spitting image of the goddess’s iconography. In the end, though, it was impossible to draw any conclusions from that encounter. Even if it did get her thinking. “Of course, I myself am a dragon, less powerful than but still of a kind with Elysium. For some reason, I am unable to access memories prior to a certain point in my history. I have no memories of my own birth, or creation. Yet, I have heard whispers of primordial figures in my world’s history, to whom creator status is vaguely ascribed: the Progenitor, and the Origin. ”

“This is why I posit that Ilia is no creator deity.” The archangel pursed her lips. “Even if she was, though, it makes no difference to [i]this[/i] me. In this world, I am a product of Galeem. That does not mean Galeem is my god, or even a god. The act of creation by itself does not imply deific status. In my studies, I have seen countless mentions of ‘creator’ gods that faded away or died, even killed by mortals, either in their original stories or in the World of Light itself. Primitivus, Sabboath, Demiurge, Ena, Jubileus, Chakravartin, Arceus…Galeem’s fate will be no different. Any being that can die or be killed, or was created by another, is no true god. Logically, then, that applies to any so-called god incarnated in the World of Light as well.”

Sandalphon stared into the flickering flame of a candle. “So, then. As I stand at the edge of a dark and stormy sea, with no far shore visible at the end of the painful path before me, with no vessel to sail upon but guesswork and hope…to whom shall I pray for deliverance?”

“Not Ilia, who neither created us nor sustains us, and has never intervened on our behalf. Not Galeem, which saw the beauty of countless worlds and molded crude playthings in their image. Not the dead or narrow gods of other worlds, who became Galeem’s subjects? And although I have yet to confirm their presence in the World of Light, what reason do I have to believe that the Progenitor or Origin are any better than the gods of other worlds?”

Slowly, Sandalphon breathed in and out. “Perhaps even Galeem, enslaver of countless gods, is merely the scribbled brainchild of another being, on an even higher plane of reality. And so on, and so forth. In the end, I can only place my hopes -my fate- in the hands of the hypothetical ‘supreme creator’. An ultimate source, from whom all the other countless layers of creation flow. The God of the totality, capital G, whom I may never in my wildest dreams be able to meet or know, however much I long to…” Her eyes settled on the bulging sack she set down by the door earlier, as faint bluish light eked through the mesh. “I pray that you, God, can hear me, whoever and wherever you might be. That You are a god of love and mercy, who will save this foolish and desperate angel at the end of my lonesome path.” A few seconds passed by as Sandalphon composed herself. “...End log.”

A few minutes later, Sandalphon was out of the bath and dressed for bed. She carried her sleeping bag and her sack to a secluded corner of the lodge where she wouldn’t be disturbed, put aside her fear, and laid herself to rest.

[hr]

Though he briefly checked a handful of the guest rooms that the winter lodge had to offer, Heismay decided not to claim them. No Eugief could enjoy a good night’s sleep in a bed made for another tribe, after all. In the course of his solitary exploration, though, he found a smaller room tucked away at one corner of one of the larger bedrooms, separated by a set of narrow double doors with a number of diagonal slats in place of a window. When he pulled them open, Heismay discovered a small chamber with a handful of garments on wire hangars, mostly winter gear like scarves and jackets, although nothing of a quality that anyone would miss. There were also a couple unremarkable spare bedsheets folded neatly on the shelves. What interested him most, though, was the bar from which the clothes dangled. Now [i]that[/i] would suit his purposes perfectly.

Heismay worked quickly to adapt the dark, cramped space to his needs. After shutting himself inside, he spread out and arranged the fabric to lie against the walls and window to help deaden the ambient sound. With such good ears, he could still hear people talking rooms away, and even the sounds given off by Ramattra’s woodwork and Edward’s gunfire outside. If anyone in the lodge snored tonight, Heismay would probably hear it, unless he managed to set up enough sound insulation to obtain some peace and quiet.

By the time he was happy with the layout of his closet, the old hermit was more than ready to go to sleep for the night. He felt like he could pass out any second now. Before he could retire, though, there was something he needed to do, and it wasn’t just slipping off his greaves. Kneeling on the carpeted floor of the closet, Heismay removed his amulet and set it down in front of him. From his pack he removed a bundle of cloth, from which he unwrapped an old ceramic bottle and little saucer.

“Another day draws to an end at last,” the former knight murmured as he poured a clear liquid into the shallow cup, his voice low. “The Midnight Walk is a treacherous path, and we seem to find trouble at every turn. I am fortunate indeed to have found such capable allies.” He stared off into the darkness for a moment, then took a sip of his drink. “This world is so much broader than the Euchronia I know. Tis no paradise, to be certain, but…being free from the yoke of prejudice is a true blessing.” He closed his eyes, bowing his head. “I wish you were here to see it for yourself.”

Sitting in silence, Heismay finished his drink, then put the tableware away. He reached up, took hold of the bar, and inverted himself in order to hang by his clawed feet. After folding his wings around his body, Heismay took a long, deep breath, then drifted off to sleep.