Location: Location: The Midnight Walk - Cursed Armory Wordcount: 559 (+1 exp)
Mokou’s first instinct upon waking up in this strange location was to flex her fingers, willing a spark of magic to ensure she was still good. The lack of a spark should have been a terrifying prospect for a woman who used magic constantly, but she only let out a light sigh as she slowly floated off the ground, hands in her pockets once more, “I’ll take this as a reminder to step forward myself if we happen to find any presumably magical structures. Random teleportation is an annoyance” she says as she looks around the armory, leaning in to inspect a nearby set of cloaks, “Looks like we ended up in an armory. Magical too, by the looks of it. Wouldn’t be surprised if these were cursed though” with that statement, the Phoenix immediately grabbed a hat from one of the stands, placing it on her head.
Dark Artist's Hat (Cursed) - increases defense, magic damage, and magic critical chance while also decreasing mana costs. Also boosts the damage dealt by summons by a lot. This item is cursed, and equipping it inflicts the Disorder OSTEOGENESIS IMPERFECTA. This Disorder increases physical damage taken, causes physical attackers to take damage and bleed due to the sufferer's spiky brittle bones, and when downed the sufferer receives two persistent random injuries that need dedicated treatment to heal
Mokou blinks slightly, adjusting the hat on her head while also flexing her hand, feeling the difference in her body. It was… A strange sensation, but while she was certain it was supposed to be unpleasant, it also felt… Refreshing. The Elixir meant that she never changed, and because of that, even this slight change was enough to BE something.
In a life spent unchanging, that was a rarity. Even if it was a curse.
“... Hm. Well, I can confirm that these are cursed. Not entirely awful curses though it seems, I think I’ll be keeping this hat” the phoenix comments as she places her hands in her pockets, floating around the armory while glancing at other items… Her eyes eventually being driven to a particular sword. While not a swordsman herself, her interest in the blade’s design led her to reach out her hand, grasping the hilt and pulling it out from its display.
Sky Fracture (Cursed) - a long-handle sword forged from cobalt, bone, and magic. It is very high-quality and inflicts impressive damage in skilled hands. It can launch magical blue swords to deal equal damage from long range. This item is cursed, and equipping it inflicts the Disorder NECROPHAGE. This Disorder compels the sufferer to move toward any dead bodies they can see (within reason) or smell in order to eat them, ignoring everything else. Any body can be eaten in a single massive bite, and doing so will give All Stats Up for one minute in addition to healing a little
This time, there were no immediate signs of a curse taking event. Mokou was not stupid and knew that meant it was just more subtle, but regardless, with herself already cursed, she chose to just go along with it, resting the sword’s handle on her shoulder as she floated back to Sectonia, “Well, unless you want to do curse roulette, think it’s best we figure out how to get out of here. Would blow open the door, but-" Mokou snapped her fingers, her signature magic technique that resulted in no visible sparks of flame, "Guess they prepared for that. Unless you haven't tried the door yet. In which case-" the phoenix continues, walking over to the door and placing her hand on it to try and push it open.
As they awoke to the sound of the pitter patter of rain against a windscreen, kids reckoned might have gone a little too far when it came to avoiding a repeat of the bombing incident that the others had suffered the previous night. They’d skipped out on it last time by shacking up in the Avenger, but the sensation of being yoinked skyward at high speed was not worth it, and that was before you got to the hassle of getting dropped off somewhere again in the morning.
As such, they’d camped out in the wilds, or, rather, more specifically, parked the green tractor shaped Kuebiko in a random cluster of bamboo outside of town. The adult sized seats in it made better bedding for the kids than they would have for others, with Jr curling up in his shell and Rika snugging into her two plushies, but the minor aches they had after waking up put this down as an idea best not repeated.
Still, it was nothing a good breakfast couldn’t fix, and so the pair signaled their agreement with the plan to meet up for breakfast before hitting the road and rolling back into town. Therein the kids and jr’s pokemon all went to town on a whole load of rice porridge and dried fruit, which was a nice enough way to start the day.
When it came to plans, they didn’t have anything as concrete as the match schedule in mind like those competing in the tournament did, so they’d have to come up with something to do to help out.
”Guess we can see if those UN guys have any other bright ideas about dealing with G-Corp” Jr suggested, while Rika thought that they should maybe focus on more basic needs, suggesting that they ”Might want to hunt down some treasure, otherwise we’re gonna be running out of food money”
The two chatted back and forth about this a bit, including speculating that maybe they could get the UN to pay them for food, before being interrupted by Amaterasu presenting RIka with another finely inked note that had been written on a napkin
”Found Kim and Harry. Kim looking after Harry. Out of tournament running” Rika read out loud, which wasn’t exactly great news. That was two more shots at winning this thing out the window, which was not as disastrous as Terry’s loss had been (before his replacement) but it still wasn’t good.
”shame they probably don't count as ‘monsters’ or else we could have snuck in as em using a tape recording” Jr commented, before adding mockingly ”though given they both already got knocked down to losers, I’ll bet it’d have been next to impossible to win with their move-sets”
”Wouldn’t want to do that anyway. Will be way more eyes on the fights today” Rika muttered, to which Jr nodded and agreed ”that too”
Sakura Level 11: 048/110 Location: Esaka’s High Tier (Thursday Night) Word Count: 3197 Points Gained: 5 New EXP Balance--- Level 11: 053/110
Primrose - Level: 11 - Total EXP: 326/110 Therion - Level: 10 - Total EXP: 383/100
Sakura didn’t have to worry about an awkward trip after the three Seekers departed from the zoo. Even if she got the sense that Therion found some amusement at her expense he was not the type to rub it in, and though Primrose enjoyed some good teasing every now and then she refrained for now, perhaps until she got to know the girl a little better. Instead, they all focused on reading landmarks and street signs as they made their way to their next destination. Although none of them had been to the UN headquarters and were none the wiser if they’d even passed it while traveling the area before, all they had to do to find it was simply read the delivery receipt Sakura had grabbed from Anji before they’d started all this.
Sakura kept her face in the receipt, looking extra stern and serious so that if anyone even thought about teasing her she could remind them to focus on the mission. She studiously checked it against every address they passed by. ”We’re getting closer. Infact–” She did some mental math and looked a few buildings ahead.
”I think that’s it?” She pointed at it.
Of course, when it came to that particular structure, ‘building’ undersold it enough that each Seeker was more than warranted a double take. They now stood within a stone’s throw of the single most massive establishment in the High Tier, if not all of Esaka itself: its biggest (and only) hospital, the Jeon Ryok Residence. With many tears defined by the huge, extravagant red clay giwa tiles of the distinctive Paljakjibung hip-and-gable roofs, and enormous brass ornamentations everywhere, it looked a lot more like a palace than a medical facility. Was this the right place? And even if it was, surely the whole thing wasn’t the UN’s headquarters.
Once the awestruck Seekers entered, handfuls of staff could be seen wearing surgical masks, hats, and turquoise garments somewhere between robes and scrubs, with medical stations and equipment in evidence, like the wheelchairs and gurneys used to transport patients between rooms and operating centers. Still, there were plenty of more traditional and decorative elements on the walls. If most of Esaka embodied elements of either Chinese or Japanese heritage, then perhaps this was the stronghold for Korean culture.
Near the front desk, an incredibly muscular old man with a huge white beard and eyebrows happened to be waiting with his arms crossed, while nearby a strange doctor, emaciated and unnaturally tall with a paper bag on his head, spoke to a blonde nurse toting a massive syringe as tall as she was. A very pixellated woman with red hair and a white dress sat behind the counter.
It was all a little overwhelming, particularly for the more medieval-esque Seekers, whose adventures even within the World of Light had not shown them anything of this blend of aesthetic and modern technology. It certainly didn't look like the headquarters of an organization of international spies either. Could they be in a basement level perhaps, or maybe the office suites at the top?
The Seekers looked at each other. Therion's tail twitched every few seconds as he glanced around, squinty-eyed. This place was totally unlike the sanatorium in the Home of Tears, and yet somehow that mild antiseptic smell and the shady looking doctors (even the yellow haired woman gave off that vibe despite the innocent looking face) reminded him of it. After a few moments to take in the exquisitely decorated exterior and the spacious, clean interior with its patients and staff, Primrose set her eyes upon the desk and its clerk.
At present she didn't think there was any need for theatrics, she approached the angular woman with a small, casual smile and the receipt in tow. Assuming that the package's intended recipient wasn't planning to make them jump through hoops to deliver it, then just asking after the information on where they should go was undoubtedly the best option.
"Good evening," she greeted first, prompting Sakura to show the receipt second. "We're looking for this man, at this address. Are we in the right place?"
“Good evening.” When offered the receipt, the receptionist glanced at it, then turned her attention to someone else. “Kum Haehyun?” As she fluttered the receipt, the huge old man -who had been meditating with uncanny stillness- came to life suddenly, as if jolted with electricity. If the elderly master lacked any composure, though, it was only for a split second. His pupil-less white eyes practically glowed beneath his heavy brow as he turned his head the receptionist’s way. “The deliverers are here to see Mr. Chevalier.”
The man gave a stiff nod, then beckoned to the trio of Seekers to accompany him toward a flight of stairs. “This way.”
”Uhh. Thank you.” Sakura said. Another powerful old man with glowing white eyes. She was almost used to them by now.
She looked back at Primrose and Therion. ”I must’ve been in here before. Not from this side, though. It’s all one giant building… insane.” Sakura said. Then she tapped her chin.
”Still, everything’s a bit smaller looking now that I’ve seen Midgar.” Sakura thought aloud. Now that was the megastructure to end all megastructures.
"I can scarcely imagine a city larger than this one," Primrose said. Esaka's massive bottom layer was already nearly on par with Orsterra's largest cities, but when taking into account its ascending tiers... and this hospital alone could encompass the smaller villages. It was incredible that Sakura had been to even bigger places.
”Yeah, me neither. That place was nuts.” Sakura nodded.
They followed their unlikely guide up the stairs. Ahead of the girls for once, Therion glanced at one of the posted directories as they moved. Using a hospital as a cover for their base... the thief couldn't decide if he found it smart or entirely too reckless.
After a couple minutes of travel, the old giant who plodded ahead of the Seekers cleared his throat. “So, you’re some of our new allies?” He stopped at a set of double doors, then glanced back at the trio, his gaze severe and unblinking. “Mr. Chevalier has already put a great deal of faith in you, to bring you here. Despite your group’s failure to apprehend Lucky Chloe, I might add. Still, if you’ve the strength to take on G-Corp at full strength, it’s a moot point. All that matters is whether you can be trusted.”
When he turned to push open the door, Therion glanced back at Sakura and Primrose with a roll of his eyes. Sakura frowned, confused. None of the three of them had even been part of that Chloe mission, with the girls not even present at the meeting that had outlined the UN's plans. Leave it to a pretentious organization like this to act like they had the high ground. There was a twinkle of mirth in Primrose's eyes as she caught Therion's, but ultimately she understood it wasn't actually the other group's fault for questioning the trust worthiness of the Seekers. They still had wool pulled over all of them.
Inside was a classic operating theater, roughly semicircular, with a multi-layered, curved observers’ gallery that could seat a couple dozen people looking down on an operating table. The Seekers’ entrance opened up to the very top level of this gallery, but even from here they could see that this was no ordinary medical room. Each of the seats featured a country’s flag draped across the back, many of which Sakura -but not the Orsterrans- would recognize. The operating table way down at the bottom was completely bare, and on the opposite side -under the glow of two freestanding surgical lights- was a wheelchair where Mr. Chevalier sat. After following the Seekers in, the old master shut the door behind them.
“Ah, welcome,” the head of the UN greeted the newcomers in perfectly understandable French. “Please forgive the pomp and circumstance. I wanted to offer a somewhat dramatic first impression of our special room. This is the United Nations’ General Assembly Theater. A mere fraction of our former glory, but a testament to our enduring spirit.” Chevalier stood.
The old master tried not to bump into the trio as he shuffled past them. “Mind if I step out for a bit?” he asked, addressing Chevalier with less gruffness than usual. “It’s getting hot in here.”
“Sounds like your AC needs a tune-up,” Chevalier replied with a shadow of a smile. “Of course.”
With a grunt, the giant knelt down, bowing his head as he closed his eyes as if to meditate. Then his chest opened like a cockpit door, revealing a mechanical interior and a teenager seated inside at a set of controls. The girl had wine purple and white hair, a white hanbok outfit, and eyes as pink as the infinity symbol on her garment (beneath Galeem’s red glaze, of course). Wiping her brow, the girl climbed out of her mech and let out a sigh of relief as she fanned herself. “Well, there you have it,” she told the Seekers rather casually. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. Kum Haehyun, agent of the United Nations, seat of Korea. This hospital is my family residence, so…welcome to my home.” With a polite nod, she climbed down the gallery to seat herself at the chair with the Korean flag.
”Uhhh…” Sakura wasn’t sure what was going on anymore. ”Thank you, uh,” She glanced between Kum Haehyun and Mr. Chevallier, but pulled herself away from the bizarre sight and went towards Mr. Chevallier.
At the same time, Primrose was beginning to put things together. The lack of true context had only hampered her a little, but seeing the collection of marked seats and the variety of members (some she'd only heard about from the other Seekers), she now understood that the United Nations was a very literal name despite her earlier skepticism. And if she wasn't mistaken... made up of mostly nations that came from the same world. Was that coincidence, or design? Surely the latter, since Sakura had been familiar with the organization itself. A spy organization, she'd said. That really did seem to be the case, though she got the sense that the group really did have the city's best interest in mind.
Still, it interested her less than the woman stepping down from what turned out to be a very convincing humanoid robot. Both Primrose and Therion looked at Haehyun in surprise before the dancer spoke. "Thank you for having us. Primrose Azelhart. Charmed," she said, returning the dip of her head.
Now the hospital as a base made a little more sense, too.
”I’m hoping there hasn’t been a misunderstanding,” Sakura said with a little nervous giggle. ”We’re here to deliver this food to you?” She extended the package towards Chevalier.
He accepted it gratefully. “Thank you. It was, in part, a pretext to bring a smaller group here so as not to arouse suspicion. Although I am looking forward to trying it. One cannot subsist on French cuisine alone.”
Therion cut a subtle look at Sakura as if to say, it really was food??
Sakura shrugged, grinning.
After setting down the package on the table, Chevalier looked between the assembled Seekers. “Since now we’ve more or less shared a meal, let us formally establish our companionship. Your group and the United Nations can continue working together for the common good, to eliminate the threats posed by G-Corp and the Four Kings, and bring about real change. To that end, this hospital is yours to visit whenever you may need, with reduced charge. Think of it as being insured. In addition to standard healing, the staff here are skilled enough to purge diseases and certain other afflictions. If you’re sick or suffering, the Jeon Ryok Residence is here for you.”
At that point, Haehyun also raised her hand. “By the way. If you or your friends are up for it, I can ‘tune’ you. Tuning your ki will strengthen your body, helping you realize your combat potential and safeguarding you from illness. It’s a…” She paused, putting a hand to her chin as she thought. “‘Rigorous’ process. But if you can take it, you won’t regret it. Just another benefit of being the UN’s friend.” She shrugged. “If you’re fighting in a tournament, it’ll definitely come in handy.”
”I see.” Sakura crossed her arms. ”Well, uh, thank you for the assistance.” She did a little bow. ”Forces of good uniting and all that. Totally cool.”
"We're hardly the representatives of our group," Primrose reminded them, though she didn't seem opposed. Especially after Therion added, "but we already practically agreed to it."
So the dancer folded her arms loosely in front of her, turning her head and making a show of taking in the gallery once more. "And it is a generous offer. Real change is just what we're after."
She smiled disarmingly, though whether it fooled someone like Chevalier didn't really matter. The outcome was the same either way. "Then we'll let everyone else know. And I suppose we'll have to come up with an easier way to keep in touch."
Sakura nodded along to Primrose’s words. Then she considered the latter part of the reward. ”Ki tuning, huh? I guess we’d be a fool not to, right?” Sakura scratched the side of her head. ”Is it like, a permanent upgrade? Or just for the tournament?”
"At least ask for a demonstration first," Therion muttered to her. The girl was so strong that she apparently lacked a sense of self preservation. He had to admit that the group did seem to be what they claimed, a force of good, but that tuning thing seemed a little suspect. Maybe he was still projecting prior experiences, though.
”Uh, right.” Sakura chuckled apologetically. She turned back to the two UN members. ”Also, what is that? And what does it look like?” She projected her voice louder.
Haehyun fielded the questions seriously. “Nothing lasts forever, but it should be a good long while. As for how it looks…” She paused, thinking. “Well, ki is invisible unless it’s being ‘ignited’ for use, but I visualize it as the strings of a musical instrument. Specifically, those of the guqin, a Korean instrument and a favorite of mine. They can be tightened, straightened, cleaned up, and made to sing.”
Sakura hummed thoughtfully, and observed her own outstretched arm as she imagined something happening to it.
Maybe it was easier to visualize for the actual martial artist among the three Seekers. At least the Orsterrans grasped that it was some kind of physical process, especially with Haehyun's mention of it being 'rigorous.' Perhaps... like an intense massage?
Therion didn't look at that convinced, but far be it from him to stop anyone else curious about it to get 'tuned.' Maybe after a few successful procedures he'd be more interested.
"I assume an exacting process like that won't be a quick one, so you'll have to pencil us in for another time," Primrose said. The hour was getting late, after all. Therion's tail flicked and he nodded. This hadn't turned out to be the total waste of time he initially thought it was, but now that they'd found the place and cemented this alliance, he didn't think there was much use in sticking around.
Though one thing did occur to him, and he glanced at Chevalier. "You're gonna let us know when you get some intel on Kazuya?" he asked. The Frenchman had disregarded the bounty reward earlier, but as it sat unclaimed it was still on the thief's radar.
Haehyun nodded at Primrose. “Sure. I could use a meal myself. Do you have phone magic?” To show what she meant, the girl raised her hand to her ear and a magic glyph manifested, similar to Sandalphon’s miracle phone but apparently different.
“I can also offer my own phone number, if you’re more accustomed to conventional communication,” Chevalier added.
At the second offer Primrose shook her head lightly. Only a couple of Seekers had those small, handheld communication devices, and she was not among that number. Instead she looked at Haehyun and said, "we can learn it." Even if the Seekers already had link pearls they could communicate through, giving out too many and in multiple linkshell colors would get complicated - and a handy spell like that seemed like it would be useful to have regardless.
”Also, are we still getting paid for the food thing?” Sakura asked. ”I think if I rent one more hotel room, I’m flat broke.”
With a snap of her fingers, Haehyun got Sakura’s attention. “I can fix that second part. You can just stay here at the hospital. You’re Japanese, right? Just tell the staff you have Ki Overflow Syndrome. Nobody will bat an eye.”
Sakura blinked hard. ”Eh? Really?”
As she spoke, Chevalier had produced a wallet that he began to rifle through. After a few seconds, he pulled out a handful of crisp notes and approached the observation gallery to offer them to the Seekers. Altogether, they amounted to fifty thousand zenny, the equivalent of five hundred dollars. “I always tip generously to those who deliver,” he told them.
Therion still found it hard to tell if the guy was genuine or poking fun. Money was money though, and they had gone through with the food fetch quest. He accepted the payment, quickly and efficiently forking a third over to Sakura.
"Nice doing business with you," he said dryly. Odds were it wouldn't be long before they did business again, too.
”Amazing!” Sakura accepted the money with a big grin, shoving it into some interior pocket of her fancy streetwear jacket. As she did, she looked up. ”Ki Overflow Syndrome, huh? I kinda feel bad about lying to a hospital…” Then she reached inside the pocket with all of her remaining money, and did the mental math as to how much she would go through just for one night at a motel in Esaka.
”Then again..!” Sakura would end up waving goodbye to Therion and Primrose for the night.
Once everything was wrapped up, the Seekers bunking elsewhere got a move on. The encounter from start to finish had been a relatively casual side quest, even including the stop at the zoo where their only real opposition had come in the form of an evil bird (which might even still be out there, somewhere). It hadn't been unpleasant, and was much preferable to the usual life threatening situations the Seekers found themselves in. Coming out of it with a new group and new resources to work with was a boon, too.
Once they reached their resting places the remainder of the night passed without incident, and the next day began with a familiar call for the Seekers of Light to meet up.
Primrose took her time before answering said call, making sure she was presentable to her usual standard after waking. If even her small group had some developments to share, she wouldn't be surprised if the other Seekers had some news as well. "Just say where~"
Level 9 - EXP 64/90 The Midnight Walk - Winterhold College Word Count:851 +1 EXP
The Omnic held his forehead against his palm as he reoriented his groundings. While it was annoying for the group to have detoured so greatly from their main objective, it was best, in Ramattra’s mind, not to fight the situation. He was positive the other Seekers were nearby. Even with his limited knowledge in magic, it wouldn’t make sense for the magical item to drag them all in without some form of purpose. There was nothing he could do other than make sense of his surroundings. The room appeared virtually empty, other than the odd pulsating structure in the middle of the room. “Great. I suppose I should gather my bearings.” With a sigh, he clambered to his three legs and tried to ignore the eerie magic presence for the moment.
He couldn’t make sense of where he was immediately, pacing the walls of the room for any clues or devices that would help clue him in to what he was looking at. Next was the floor, as he swept every tile with the weight of his leg, ensuring that there were no booby traps or activation plates around. Clicking the latch to his encased Leaded Ball, he released Kashmir as well, perhaps to investigate for any ground loot or small spaces he missed.
Near one of the sets of double doors, Kashmir happened to find something, an item that might have been below Ramattra's notice. It appeared to be a door stop, just a simple wedge of hard material designed to keep doors open, although this one seemed just a little fancier than the average doorstop. It was black metal, with gold edges, and unlike the stone tiles in here it felt ever-so-slightly warm to the touch.
More than anything, he was clearing the room to ensure it was truly secure for his… “thorough investigation” of the orb’s purpose in this structure.
At first, The Omnic waved his hand in the air, feeling the odd energy permeating the room despite not having the means to feel. “Interesting… The area here is rich with… something.” He was enamored by the feeling- encouraging him to investigate further. He placed his palm on the exterior shell of the magic relic, feeling the magic coursing within as he extended his digits flat-handedly on its rotating surface. Perhaps it was foolish and more so dangerous, but could Ramattra be strong enough to force the metallic shell open to investigate the crystalline formation within?
Physical sensations were impossible for the Omnic to feel- yet undeniably, he FELT whatever energy was present in this room. It made Ramattra realize why people in magical worlds often go mad with power, but he was alone, was he not? Who would be there to stop him from doing something so reckless? Activating nemesis form, he approached the spherical structure, injecting himself with Alchemist Cocktail as well, and clutched two openings amidst the rotating shell, attempting to pry the eye of the structure open.
Some sort of foreign energy began to flood the Omnic's systems, instantly setting off his self-diagnosis subsystem's alarm bells. A shell of translucent light blue energy, not unlike a force field, surrounded him. Then it began to thicken inward, dissolving Ramattra's exterior and converting it into more energy one rapid millimeter at a time.
(Ramattra has gained 1 stack of Holy Shield that can completely negate any one instance of direct damage. For every second of exposure, he'll lose 5% max HP and gain another stack)
The thrill of energy was exhilarating, as the Omnic clutched on for an additional two seconds- his exterior now glossed in blue glow. He ripped his hand out of the eye, finally, realizing the damage it had done to his already weakened state. He really should seek medical care at the end of this mission. The three stacks of shield he acquired surely could protect him from lethal blows, but Ramattra could feel his stamina strained from his contact with the odd orb. Perhaps it was time to press on.
Before Ramattra could enter the next area, however, Kashmir came running with the wedge he found- atop his head. “Daruru!” The Pokémon cheered, offering the helpful tool to its master. ‘
“Ah! Great work, Kashmir. Perhaps you will have earned some snacks later.” The Darumaka cheered playfully as he jumped beside the Omnic. “Now come- help me open this door.”
The small Pokémon approached the set of double doors with his master, pushing with all its might as the door began to slowly swing open, revealing the next room…
The Pool
The Omnic entered a rather small square room with two doors. Its main feature is a square pool of clean, fresh water with steps leading down into it. There is a bucket, a shovel, a rope of small connected flotation canisters, and a sign on the wall with the pool rules. On one side is an odd column, and part of the column in the water seems slightly different from the rest of it.
Ramattra placed the doorstop between rooms- stopping the door from closing behind him.
Level 8 - EXP 68/80 The Midnight Walk - Winterhold College Word Count:474 +1 EXP
Without much time to question what Layton had uncovered, Tenna was quick to get back on his feet, quickly hustling to summon his Shadow Guys by his side to escort him, and Traffy the Traffikrab, throughout the dungeon they found themselves in. At a moments glance- the room looked like a casual observatory- but the presence of the blue text alarmed Tenna, and urged him and his crew to move on immediately. Perhaps one of his allies could help him uncover the threat lurking in the room at a later time.
As Tenna and his Shadowy Henchmen pushed past the heavy set of double doors, he emerged into a creepy ruin occupied by cavely creatures alive and dead- and possibly threats further in. Traffy was as weary as the CRT, entering the room only after he took the first step, the weight of the door urging the others to follow closely behind as they navigated the next room. As the door closed behind them, the crew looked like they were about to regroup with Edward for a moment, just as he was scooped away by flying beasts after sounding a bell. Traffy looked up at Tenna, as if to ask What now? in its own way.
“Don’t you worry, little guy! We’ll figure out where everyone else is- if Edward is still here, then everyone should be A-Ok!” Tenna was sure the Dreadnought could handle himself even without the Stagecoach, but the quicker they made their way out of… wherever they were, the better. “Just look around for anything valuable. I’m sure there’s something worth checking out here if they wanna rip our friend out of it.”
Tenna quickly sent his crew to work, asking that the Shadowy henchman make use of their leftover mining gear from the frozen mineshafts to collect some of the coal and lapis. Meanwhile, he and Traffy opted to investigate the leftmost room, the Gargoyles scooped Edward out of. Could they take Tenna and his crew to where they kidnapped Edward?
Once the veins of ore had been picked clean in the cave, the TV Host regrouped his allies to do a surface sweep of the water- searching for any dangers or clues below. Something was causing these bats to stick around.
The four travelers met in the leftmost room, where Tenna bravely reached upward to chime the bell, bracing for impact…
Once again the clamor of the bell heralded the arrival of gargoyles. They did not come to convey Tenna and his companions elsewhere, though. Instead they came shrieking with stone swords and crossbow in hand, red eyes blazing from their ghastly, snarling, frozen faces. They spread out to surround the Seeker and his attendees, attacking in a pincer maneuver punctuated by the crossbow bolts of the third gargoyle from the top of the winding staircase…
For a moment Band merely stood at the corner where he stopped, watching people go by as he awaited a response from the Seekers on his earpiece. Even on a drizzly, overcast day like today, there were still tons of people -and yokai- out and about. Either the Pools really were that important around here, or rain was simply such a common occurrence that Esaka’s citizens didn’t pay much mind to it. The detective’s idle gaze landed on a strange, furtive spirit with a froglike appearance, but the shell of a turtle. Atop its skull appeared to be a basin full of water, which the yokai was delighted to refill with the rainwater dripping down from above. He watched the kappa skulk around the threshold of a shop, wondering if it would attempt to steal something, only for the departure of a burly Italian to scare it away.
It wasn’t long before Band’s allies called in, starting with Roland. The Fixer suggested a meetup spot on the Low Tier, mentioning rice and noodles. Those foods weren’t necessarily what Band thought of as breakfast, but even counting out the whole ‘tournament society’ thing, the culture of the Tiered City was just unlike he’d ever seen before. Better to just go with the flow. Although, for those who’d stayed in the High Tier, it would be a long trip down. When Pit chimed in, mentioning that he had ‘medium news’ for everyone but would be too busy to join them for now, Band felt obliged to say something. “Sounds like we don’t got anythin’ earth-shatterin’ to share. So let’s keep this pow-wow nice and informal. Attendance is not mandatory.” Band would go, though, as long as Roland’s destination wasn’t too far. The northern part of the Low Tier might not be that far from the southern part as the crow flies, but traipsing halfway around the donut-shaped district would take a lot of time and energy. With more Pools matches imminent, not everyone had time or energy to spare.
Going off of the name Roland provided and the directions offered by helpful locals, Big Band made his way from the hiding place of Lab 8 to the designated eatery. It didn’t look like anything special, just a hole-in-the-wall really, but that suited the detective just fine. With G-Corp still on the loose, and who knew how many more enemies spread throughout the city, it was best for everyone to keep a low profile and move in smaller groups. Plus, hole-in-the-wall-type joints often had the best food. Well, some did, while most offered dirt-cheap crap. Finding a diamond in the rough was rare but extremely valuable, so hopefully this was one such place.
Band scarcely had time to make small talk with the others before his food arrived. He had ordered jianbing, a sort of crepe fashioned from broomcorn flour folded a couple times, eggs, ham, chopped scallion, and hoisin sauce. It made for a strange breakfast dish, as the detective expected, but with an open mind to new foods Band found himself liking it. It came with cifantuan, a kind of sticky rice pouch stuffed with fried dough and salted egg yolk, and to wash it down Band tried a sweetened soy milk, although he didn’t end up liking that beverage too much. Overall the meal was pretty good, but being essentially street food it was overpriced fare in a restaurant, so paying for it ate through a chunk of the little stipend given by the Bogard twins last night as thanks for having their backs. It looked like money would still be a concern for the detective going forward. Fortunately, despite appearances, it didn’t take much fuel to fill him up
Once everyone’s meal had begun, and they digested the news about Harry and Kim, Band paused between bites to clear his throat. “Ahem. So…y’all might not be aware, but I’ve been outta the loop with the Seekers for a couple weeks. Stuck in Edinburgh MagicaPolis, way up north. I wasn’t exactly idle up there. Helped take one Consul outta the equation in fact, and got us a li’l tidbit of information that Miss Sandalphon’s team’s gonna put to good use real soon. But I dunno what the rest of y’all got up to. Just heardja paid a visit to Midgar and the Underground. Got any good stories?”
While Band and a few others chatted over breakfast in a remote corner of the Low Tier, Nadia continued to pitter-patter around the puddly streets of the Middle Tier in search of the New Meridian Order’s only male member. It did strike her as a little funny that a himbo like Beowulf would be the only guy to join the otherwise all-female dojo, though it was true they weren’t exactly a huge organization to begin with. Most ladies would have probably preferred an all-gal group, but either due to her upbringing or attitude, Nadia actually liked hanging out with dudes. They were simple, easy to get along with. Plus, most were totally unprepared for casual friendliness from a pretty girl. Nadia didn’t mean to lead anyone on or anything, but paw-sitive attention sure felt nice.
Wandering through the drizzle for half an hour didn’t feel great, though, and the tantalizing smells that wafted out of the half-dozen diners she checked sure didn’t help. Of course, Nadia knew that she could stop and help herself to breakfast whenever, but she’d already had Throw Loops this morning and couldn’t afford to overeat, in a metaphorical sense at least. Plus, she was a woman on a mission! There was someone out there in need of saving (after a fashion) and Nadia Fortune would oblige.
Eventually, the thief struck gold. When she stuck her head into a diner called Churning Butter, she found a restaurant offering the richest, unhealthiest, most protein-rich and carbo-loaded breakfast food around, and there she discovered Beowulf. True to Annie’s prediction, he sat over a giant, half-finished plate of steak and eggs, accompanied by a stack of pancakes with so many toppings that Nadia couldn’t even see the flapjacks. Of course, the gregarious goober wasn't totally focused on his meal, because he couldn’t resist striking up a conversation with the complete strangers at the table next to him. Fortunately, the blond American in a Hawaiian shirt and ripped jeans seemed pretty outgoing, and the Japanese girl Bob had met for breakfast was warming up to their natural camaraderie. Still, even the rather tactless Nadia could see that it would probably be best to leave Bob and Tsugumi to their date, so she marched in and put a hand on Beowulf’s shoulder. “Beo, buddy!”
The wrestler looked up and grew a toothy smile. “Fortune, hey! G’mornin’!” He waved for her to sit down. “Wanna bite to eat? Got plenty left! I was just tellin’ my friends here…”
“Actually, I’ve got somethin’ big to tell ya.” She flashed a sympathetic smile at the others as she stepped in between the two tables, blocking them off. “An im-purr-tant purr-oposition, if you’re willin’ to hear meowt,” Nadia told him. “Straight from the Girl of the Stars.”
Just as Nadia thought, Annie’s epithet was enough to make Beowulf get serious. “Oh yeah? Alright, alright. Uh, can it wait a couple minutes?” He glanced down at his food anxiously, clearly not wanting his hard-earned donations from yesterday to go to waste.
“You got five minutes!” Nadia declared, holding up five clawed fingers for emphasis. “Meet me up on the roof. And get your hairy butt in gear, cause I’m not kitten around!”
Beowulf grinned. “You got it!” Nadia turned to go before she could see the wrestler dig into the remains of his meal with gusto, tearing the pancakes and prime rib apart like a hungry wolf. Until he met with her up top, she’d try to remember what she’d seen of his fighting style yesterday. If he was half the wrestler he thought he was, Beowulf probably had a couple kinds of command grab under his belt, so she wouldn’t be sitting around blocking. Oh, woe is me!
After climbing up onto the roof, Nadia began to stretch. This bout ought to be a nice warm-up for her Pools matches today. Hopefully Churning Butter had a nice, strong roof, since she didn’t want to crash through any more ceilings this week.
Despite the varying degrees of soreness that now accompanied her every movement thanks to her rapid-onset Petrification Disease, Sandalphon soon resolved to not merely hide out at the bottom floor of the Grand Archives and await rescue. There was no telling how many or what sorts of enemies infested this place, and she reasoned that if she kept moving, she could hopefully keep one step ahead of any forces that might detect and seek to converge on her. Furthermore, the immense doors on this bottom floor that she guessed formed the archives’ main entrance were not only crusted over with white candlewax, but sealed by portcullis. She would need to find an alternate exit, or at least a way to raise the metal bars. Even if she didn’t find a way out of this place, being closer to an exit would be better if anyone happened to come here.
Of course, maneuvering through the Grand Archives came with its own set of challenges. Those wax-headed mages weren’t leaving this area like Sandalphon hoped they would. With stealth impossible in her current state, it was time for a more direct approach.
Taking careful aim, Sandalphon held her breath, then fired. The purple magic ray emanated from her hexagun took the head off an archive scholar in a splatter of wax. Its headless body slumped to the floor. Unlike most sniper rifles, the archangel’s magic gun gave no ear-rattling report, making only a whimsical whoosh when it fired. She took advantage of the other scholars’ confusion to mow them down, one headshot at a time. The third target triggered the hexagun’s special effect and got polymorphed into a chicken, but rather than waste a second to finish the bewildered bird off, Sandalphon sniped the fourth and final scholar. Now she had the whole first floor to herself.
Fiery lights in her peripheral vision warned her that the staircase to the second floor was another matter, though. She looked over just in time to see three more scholars with their candlesticks raised in the air before their fireballs accelerated toward her. Teeth clenched against the pain, Sandalphon hurriedly shrank back behind her bookcase, allowing the flame to splatter against its melted wax coating. Unable to detect life signs from these scholars, her scans had left her in the dark about this new patrol.
She peered out from cover and, to her surprise, saw something strange: a purplish gray cat with wax on her head, darting up the stairs. The scholars seemed to notice her, but rather than try to stop her at all they continued to sling fireballs at Sandalphon. Narrowing her good eye as its pupil became an inverted triangle, the archangel took cover for a moment, then cast her off hand forward the moment she showed herself. A Cerulean Mirage appeared on a stair among the scholars, and when Sandalphon shot it the next moment, the resulting diamond-shaped nitroblast scattered the three undead in a dozen directions.
Sandalphon examined the area, more carefully this time, but there appeared to be no more enemies. Nor any sign of that cat, for that matter. Slowly, gingerly, Sandalphon lowered her weapon and began to approach the stairs to the second later. On the way, her eye settled on the pool of wax, and her pupil became a loading ring. It was an uncharacteristically ridiculous idea, but maybe it would work. Carefully, the archangel stooped over the pool of wax. As she bent down, her halo continued to float above her as its light shone on the liquid wax, its orientation unchanged. Sandalphon took a deep breath, then inserted her head. It was warm, but not scalding. A quick wipe of her nose and good eye after removing her head left her vision and windpipe unobstructed, even as the wax hardened into a shell around her head. More had spattered her shoulders and chest, but she didn’t bother cleaning it off before she began to tackle the challenge of the stairs.
At the top, Sandalphon quickly found herself faced with another roving group of archive scholars, four strong, perhaps drawn by the explosion. She could feel their gaze on her, even if she couldn’t see any eyes within their waxen skulls. Yet, as she hastened to take aim with her hexagun, none attempted to attack. They continued on her way, content to walk past her. Sandalphon lowered, then dismissed her gun as she realized her gambit had worked, all thanks to that mysterious cat. Still, these threats needed to be neutralized. Shimmering wires spooled from her fingertips as she stepped forward, carefully brushing past the scholars as she moved through their group. A few strides later she stopped, raised her hands, and coldly tightened the wires.
Two of the scholars fell apart immediately and without ceremony, sliced into pieces. Sandalphon’s razor wire caught in the body of the third, however, and after the fourth beheld his stricken companion, he turned toward Sandalphon with his candlestick alike. Before it could immolate her, however, the archangel flicked her wrist and pulled. The scholar’s candles split apart, the slices scattered around, followed by his forearm and finally its head. As it slumped down, Sandalphon summoned her gunstaff to blast a hole through the stricken one and put it out of its misery. She watched its dagger clatter to the floor, paused to pick it up, and then moved on.
Another scan revealed a small life sign climbing higher up through the archives, probably the cat that helped her out. She could also detect something else, something distant but strong. When Sandalphon peered up at the highest level, she could see a large, cloaked figure with an enormous hat staring down at her, a crystal orb between its wizened hands. That looked like some sort of ringleader, much more perceptive than the wax-headed underlings. It raised its orb as blue magic danced around it, and Sandalphon barely ducked into a side room before a homing crystal arrow smashed into the doorway. This would be more difficult than she expected, but if this duel was to be a shootout between snipers, Sandalphon was confident in her skills, given enough time. With unknowns lurking around every corner, though, time was a luxury the archangel didn’t have.
Moments before Heismay would have reached up to try one of the worryingly heavy-looking doors for himself, the huge oaken slab began to swivel inward at a speed that testified the brute strength of the pusher. Suddenly alarmed, Heismay hopped backward and clamped his three-clawed hand around the hilt of his reinforced longsaber. Only the thought that more reasonably friendly people like the alchemist might be around prevented him from drawing his blade completely. When the door swung open, however, the familiar sight of thick coat and scarlet hair dispelled his eugief’s tension.
“Good hunter!” Heismay replied, releasing his grip on his sword. “You’re a welcome sight in this unfamiliar place.” As Ace stepped into the laboratory, Heismay glanced behind him to see if he came with company, but he saw nothing beyond Ace’s fuzzy new companion. He didn’t get much of a look at the room Ace came from either, other than a brief glimpse of stone brick and wooden furniture in firelight. “Separated from the others as well, I suppose? Twould seem we fell afoul of some magical trap.” As the hunter stopped at Heismay’s side to scope out the specimen shelves and work tables of the alchemical lab, the doors behind him swung shut with a heavy, groaning creak, falling right back into its original place.
Though naturally the noise distracted him for a brief moment, Heismay turned his attention back to Ace. “I’ve only seen this room so far. That man is friendly, albeit cursed with a hex that inhibits his power of speech. The purpose of his work, and this’alchemy lab’, is somewhat beyond me, and I’ve not the inclination to meddle.” The hermit pursed his lips. “He did, however, inform me that this building is ‘inconsistent’ and that rooms tend to shift around. No clues as to how we might quit the place, though. Tis quite the conundrum.”
Shrugging, Heismay turned back toward the door Ace came through and began to shuffle over. “Still, tis a relief to have you here. Two is better than one. And three shall be better than two. Once we find the others, we can put our heads together.” He reached up and plied his strength against the door. “I should like to examine the room you came from, to assemble my mental map.”
When Heismay pushed open the doors, however, a fundamental aspect of the Seekers’ reality quickly broke down. On the other side was not the banal dormitory that the monster hunter left behind.
The Forgotten Commune
The doorway opened directly into some kind of large octagonal shaft, its walls damp, mossy stone brick. A makeshift bridge of roped-together wooden logs, shaped like a plus sign, spanned the gap to connect this double doorway to four similar ones. A sickly green light bled down from above, and when Heismay looked upward, he could see only a dark, cloudy sky tinged the same unwell color for unknown reasons. Looking down, meanwhile, revealed an entire shantytown constructed within the space, a handful of ramshackle wooden towers composed of a dozen or so stacked hovels connected by plank and rope bridges. The steady drip of water droplets, amplified by the natural echo within this place, made Heismay’s ears twitch. Unwholesome smells crept, unwelcome into his offended nostrils, and after a moment a tormented, inhuman screen made him jump.
Oblivious to the unnatural replacement of the dormitory, Heismay narrowed his eyes as he focused on the decrepit shantytown below him. “I’d wager that was not one of us,” he ventured, drawing his blade. “And no friend of ours, either.” He looked to Ace for his opinion, scrutinizing the hunter’s expression as he hesitated. “Nevertheless, perhaps we should investigate? Twould not do to miss any clues that might aid in our egress.”
The Cadet glanced back at Heismay after peering down at the new area himself.
"Let's do it. Best case we find a clue on how to get out of here, worse case we just clean up something that might endanger someone else," he said, and with a tight grin that might betray a bit of the confident front he was putting on Ace added, "and this place really needs some janitors."
“Indeed.” Evidently more worried about making the decision than any of the danger that might accompany his choice, Heismay took the lead and jumped down to a wooden platform attached to a side wall. Going there gave him and Ace the chance to drop down to the uppermost level of the shantytown himself. When he approached the first hut, though, he hesitated. The whole thing, maybe thanks to its proximity to the light from above, looked massively overgrown by plants and mold alike. When he tentative pushed open the cracked, sagging door, Heismay caught sight of a few pustulent vermin feeding on the rot. With nothing but wet, slimy refuge in sight, the eugief shook his head and backed away.
As he descended a wood bridge and approached a second hovel, though, Heismay’s ears poked up at the sound of miserable moaning. “The shadow…the shadow…the shadow…the noise, so painful…” When he tried the door, it swung open to reveal a meager abode, featuring only a few items of poorly-made furniture and a couple racks where shriveled vegetables grew in soil-filled jars. Toward the back, near where the hut met the wall, a long-eared woman with gray skin and brown rags slumped without even raising her head.
Heismay swallowed and turned so that his body hid his sword. “Pardon me. Are you well?”
The woman raised her colorless, sunken eyes. "No... We’re on an island, surrounded by the blackness. Never meant to venture to distant shores.” Shakily she inhaled, her voice weak and weepy. "The voices...whispers, really... I can’t make out what they’re saying. Just quiet enough not to understand them. Loud enough that I can’t ignore them." For the first time she seemed to focus on the Seekers. "You... You’re not like us. You’re not from here."
Nothing she said filled Heismay with confidence, least of all that last observation. He hoped that it wouldn’t lead to hostility. “No, we are not. But we want to help. And to leave this place. What do we do?”
Unblinking, the woman shook her head. “There’s a darkness...inside me...trying to get out. It’s too late for me.” She chuckled, truly crestfallen. “Too late..." A rattling sigh escaped her.
“A darkness?” Heismay stepped back, taking a closer look at the hut’s interior. “Are you possessed?”
His words didn’t seem to register with her. "The blackness...I can hear it,” she muttered to herself. "It won’t stop. It can’t stop."
After another moment, Heismay stepped back out onto the deck. When he looked down, he counted three more stories before he and Ace would reach the bottom of this shaft. He could see brownish-green water down there, no doubt fetid, with unmentionable debris afloat within. To his shock, he also spotted a pair of putrid monstrosities, their body deformed and bloated with unnatural cysts. They crawled about the shantytown aimlessly, and when one disappeared in a building, another soon appeared elsewhere. This would not be easy.
"I'm interested to hear, too," Yayama chimed in, walking up to the table. She'd slept. . . well enough. . . despite everything, but this morning she'd much prefer the company of others to that offered by her own thoughts. "Not that it's catching up for me, per se, but it's always good to know where a group has been." The clatter of dishes announced her "sitting" at the table, a process that consisted of sliding her dinnerware onto the surface and then clambering up to stand on what would be a seat for anyone else.
Unlike her ironclad friend, she'd had no trouble ordering her own breakfast. Like him, however, was that her meal was, as always, seemingly disproportionate to her size (if in the opposite direction.) Having spent as long as she had in Doma and Higashi (not to mention having gone native more or less immediately after arriving in the latter), she ordered like someone who'd been born in Esaka. "Anyone have any theories on what 'medium news' is? I'm assuming he isn't about to tell us all about a psychic that took all his money."
Words: 1,318 (+3) Edward Portsmith: Level 9 (22 cells) (2 level ups stored) ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// (31/90) Location Frozen highlands - The Midnight Walk
Edward put his shoulder to the door at the far end of the perilous hallway and pushed it open, pistol up and peeking through the door. He might not have found anything directly dangerous as of yet, but the knowledge of the green hunter in its alcove meant he was being careful with his movements. For a moment his caution seemed warranted, as he caught sight of a large monster over the sights of his pistol, only for it to turn out to be one of his frightful monsters, namely the Somnadrix.
”Ah. Good to see you intact” he commented, before lowering his weapon and pushed the door the rest of the way open. He ordered the impossible creature to Now ”fall in behind me” and then stepped into the archmage's quarters that (unbeknownst to him) Roxas had left only a short while ago.
While he’d just missed one of his allies, Frederic the painter was still here, and so naturally Edward approached this potential source of information.
”Greetings, I don’t suppose you could tell me where we are, or if you’ve had any other unexpected guests pass through in the last few minutes?”
This time, the nervous painter was genuinely taken by surprise. He flinched from the well-armed dreadnought a lot more than he did the young man who visited him prior. “Um. Winterhold College. Are you new here too?” The man both looked and sounded rather frazzled. “A boy did show up here a few minutes ago. You just missed him, actually. Went through there.” He indicated the other door. “Said he’d help with my…painting problem.” Frederic swallowed.
”Blond hair, black cloak, large key?” Edward asked, already moving for the other door, and intending to throw it open. He had actual questions for the man, obviously, not to mention concern for his safety given that he seemed rather hapless in a place that held dangers, but seizing the opportunity to regroup took priority.
The Drawing Studio
When the Dreadnought pushed open the double doors, they swung apart to reveal an austere studio of beige, white, and gold, filled with a variety of intricate black-and-white pencil drawings. Most depicted people, although three of the biggest were arranged together on one wall: a mounted cavalier, a dragon, and a pegasus knight. The room also featured an easel, and a mostly-finished drawing of a seated gentleman perched upon it. Most startling, however, was the slamming noise that greeted Edward a moment after he stepped inside, as if someone had just thrown his or her weight against one of the walls. Yet the studio’s visitor saw nobody, least of all Roxas, even as the intermittent banging continued.
Despite this the man called out ”Roxas? Roxas!” before turning back to the painter when he got no response, and urgently asking ”How long ago did you see him?” his nerves set on end due to the mysterious sourceless slamming. Said slamming was also very much why he did not go rushing into the room.
The yelling did not seem to set poor Frederic at ease. “He just went through,” the painter replied. “But…this college is enchanted or something. The doors never lead to the same place.”
”That… complicates things” Edward grunted in displeasure.
He stood there for a moment, thinking to himself despite the banging coming from the room within, before ordering the Somnadrix to ”Hold this open”
The beast moved to obey, more or less parking itself in front of the open door to act as an oversized doorstop, which let the Dreadnaught step away and test to see if it was the closing of the door that changed the location it led to.
As he did so he made an attempt to make amends for the poor social graces his hastiness had caused. To do this he stepped to a spot where he could both see the painter and the door, before saying ”I apologize for my rudeness, this place is just quite confounding” and then introduced himself with ”Edward Portsmith, at your service.”
Frederic restlessly wiped his hands on his smock as he cleared his throat. If this man wanted to be helpful, far be it from Fred to turn down extra assistance. “Oh, er, no need to apologize. If you don’t mind helping, though, I could use all the help I can get with my…uh, problem.” He looked around in a furtive manner, checking the room’s corners for anyone who might be listening in. “I’ve been in a serious pickle ever since my painting came to life. They were meant as self-portraits, but none of them came out right…I’ve been hearing their thoughts in my head ever since. It’s driving me mad. If you can wipe any out as you explore this place, I’d be in your debt.”
”Came to life?” Edward echoed with a raised eyebrow, before glancing directly towards the thumping sound coming from within the Drawing Studio. ”Are those also yours, or is that a coincidence?” he asked, regarding the art depicted within, the already concerning room was now even more of a worry. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of fighting the dragon depicted therein, let alone the entire collections worth of figures, should they also come to life.
A jittery shake of Frederic’s head dispelled Edward’s worries. “Oh no, no, those aren’t mind. I work in paint, not pencil.” He peered into the drawing studio, trying and failing to pay no mind to the impossible creature that held the door open at Edward’s command. “That banging noise…it might be one of them.”
”Could well be. Or some other horror. Either way, best to be prepared” Edward replied before, taking the obvious discomfort of Fredric into some account as he explained that ”I’ll be conjuring reinforcements just in case. I assure you, they are entirely at my command, and will act only to protect us from the monsters that lurk within this labyrinth” as he retrieved his tomes of magic from his side.
Frederic took a step back just to be safe. “Alright.”
Edward nodded in turn, and then began his summoning, sticking to the less hellish of his repertoire for this as he did so. Golems were forged, of particular note a squad of Iron golems who took the place of the Somnadrix. With a shield slid in parallel in front of the door, they could hold the gateway open without obstructing access, while also being at hand to barricade the way in should some hostile attempt to come through.
In the same line of thinking, a magelock cannon was parked facing through the door, while a second set of iron golems were set to watch the closed door, be it for interlopers or arriving compatriots. If the former came, they could/would try and block the way in order to buy time for Fredric to flee and for Edward to return and respond. If the latter instead came through, they could step in and hold open the door before it closed, fixing in place the room through which the ally had entered from.
Thus, having locked down his new basecamp, Edward prepared to explore its first expansion node, marching a squad of copper golems in first before following along after with the Somnadrix slinking along behind him to cover his back.
”I mean, we’d be here foreeeeeeever if I told you about all the stuff we’ve been through! You're looking at one of the oldest members of this whole group. Been a seeker since papa took down the first guardian, who was, like, also papa but a jerk version of papa” Jr pipped up to brag in response to the question about the seeker’s history.
Then, when Rika pointed out that ”I think he meant more the things we were up to in the Under” Jr in turn pointed to Yayama and said that ”Yeah but she wouldn’t know that, so she should! It's a big deal!”
She supposed, but though they should maybe stick to newer stuff. That she could talk about. Like the pizza tower. ”It was very silly. Bunch of cheese monsters, spooky cookie baking grandmas, and there were these trolls that demanded we make pizza based with specific toppings before they’d let us pass. Then up to there was this really weird guy with a pizza face who changed up the rules a bit like this place does so that everything could only take, like, three hits before it died, including probably us. Which was scary even if the guy himself was as silly as the stuff in his tower”
”Ok, but, like, that’s not as important as mine though” Jr insisted, to which Rika simply replied that ”It was really good pizza though”
”I mean, yeah, I guess,” Jr replied, a little frustrated because it had been really good pizza, before pointing out that ”but it's more important that we were, like, the first to take down a Consul when we took out P. The old P I mean. Not the new P who is Princess Peach”
”That’s probably come up already though, right? So mine was better” She replied, with just a hint of cheek that took her brother by surprise.
”What. No it wasn’t”
”Yeah it was. Plus, here’s another one: there’s a whole load of super strong looking weapons down in the Under inside this massive tree just next to the home of tears. Everyone was kinda too distracted by Asgor, who’s been de-storied for ages and is how we found out about that stuff at the start, and the flame clock, which we couldn’t break even Papa turned super big and punched half way across a cavern, but they’re there, n probably would be pretty good for the people who care about those kinds of things”
”I… Wait... did nobody ever try to grab those at all?”
”Don’t think so”
”Why not?”
”Distracted”
”Huh”
Jr scratched his head and then said ”All the stuff he told us about the world being really old and stuff feels like way less of a big deal now that we are flying around with the Lost Numbers, but yeah, guess at that point it was… like…” before moving his hands to his forehead and then pulling them away while making the sound of his mind being blown to bits by the revelation that Galeem’s world was absolutely ancient and its victory over all reality had happened an eternity ago.
”Yup” Rika agreed succinctly.
Amaterasu wasn’t exactly one who could tell stories, nor would she have been too inclined too even if she could deliver more than 6.66 recurring words per minute. She also wasn’t much of a listener, but she did perk an ear at this tidbit of info about these supposedly powerful weapons. It was a shame they were buried underground somewhere far far away from here.
The next little tid-bit that got dropped however was definitely something to be paid attention to, namely: ”Oh and the home of tears was this big city underground where it rained all the time somehow. Nice place despite that, least until Consul F mind controlled the whole town and had them try to take us down. We, uh, should probably be careful about that happening here as well once you lot start making the news. Not sure if they still hate us or not, we were sneaky when we popped back there yesterday, but might make it hard to be in the tournament even if we did then take out the Consul doing the ordering about”
That, Amaterasu suspected, would not be an easy thing to do in a city full of fighters. Still, the Consul had seemed to be fine with letting the world deal with her problems for her, rather than taking her own hand in things. She could only hope that she’d be just as uncaring when a whole bunch of them started threatening to win all the tournaments.
____________________________________________________ Level: 11 - Total EXP: 332/110 ------ Level: 10 - Total EXP: 389/100 𝙱𝙿 ●●●●● ---------------------------- 𝙱𝙿 ●●●●● Friday Morning Word Count: 987 (+2 exp) Location: Esaka's Low-Tier, the Forbidden Kingdom
There were probably a bunch of similar street diners, but with Roland's direction, finding the morning's meeting place was fairly easy. Primrose arrived just as she said she would, looking as pristine as ever. She slipped into a seat at the table after having already caught a server on her way over, and soon after a small plate of baozi and spiced, simmered whole eggs was placed in front of her. She'd ordered what had seemed interesting on the tables of the other diners and was not disappointed in the eggs, which smelled wonderful and had an appealing spiderweb of sauce cooked into their whites. Their warm flavor came through just find despite how delicate they looked.
"Good morning~"
She had not arrived alone of course, as her partner in crime Therion accompanied her. The sight of the two of them together was a pretty common one after all. The thief had chosen to indulge in the fruit he'd swiped the day before, though just like at dinner he wasn't shy about picking from the plates of Seekers distracted with striking up conversation.
Speaking of, Roland expressed his concern about his next opponent, but Therion had even less to say about that combatant than he had about Azrael last night. "He's not very popular," he told Roland, which suggested that this "one shot, one kill" business was a "cheap gimmick" as the local yokai population would put it. He met Roland's eye, his next words meant to be ribbing. "I'd just avoid that 'one shot' if I were you."
The Orsterrans both gave a nod at Amaterasu's news as delivered by Rika, and even Therion barely stifled a snort of laughter at Yayama's unexpected joke. Neither of them had a clue what their angelic captain meant either, though they supposed it could have been related to what the divine wolf had brought to their attention.
Like any band of traveling adventurers though, there was an interest in trading a few stories brought up. Primrose and Therion had both been in the Under with Bowser Jr. and Rika and were content to let the siblings tell these stories, though they did chime in went they felt like it.
"Even bigger dragon-turtle," Therion said for Yayama's benefit when the koopa prince mentioned "papa," and when Rika followed with the same word he nodded toward the girl and added, "penchant for adopting." Or at least that's what he'd overheard a few others say about the missing Bowser.
When the siblings began arguing on whose choice in information was better, Primrose leaned in towards the detective and lalafell and said, "P was a spoiled dictator that could meddle with time itself. Very irksome. And poor Asgore... he'd been fighting alone for a long time. They're right though, he was one of the first to really clue us in to the true nature of this world."
She dipped a finger into her glass of water she'd been given along with her tea and drew out the vague shape of a sun on a napkin, still visible even as it started to dry. Then she did the same with another shape, this one appearing to look more like an eye.
"He and that Master of Masters... they gave us these two symbols to look out for." Though the dancer couldn't say that she'd seen any before or since. She also added with an amused smile and glance at the royal siblings, "as I recall, the old king would have taken exception to anyone trying to claim one of those memorials."
At some point Therion had leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. He did not bring up the Basement that part of the then Purple Team in the Under had suffered through, because it was disgusting and hardly the kind of topic for breakfast. Although his nose did wrinkle slightly at the mention of Consul F, he didn't say more than amend the reason for the Home of Tear's constant rain. After a scalding dunk into it, he wouldn't have been able to forget. "Big underground lake above it."
As for older stories for Yayama, Primrose hummed and mentioned the Sandswept Sky, just a region or two away from the Forbidden Kingdom they found themselves in now. "We traveled a vast desert before that, climbed a huge mountain, rode an... iron train to destroy a giant demonic worm," she said, briefly gesturing between herself and two other Seekers. "That was where we picked up Therion and Big Band."
If there actually was a hierarchy among the Seekers of Light based on how long they'd been with the group, Primrose would have been higher up on that ladder, only a few rungs below Junior - though she didn't say as much.
"And now we're here doing 'official' fights and teaming up with some spies. For the 'good of the city,'" Therion said. He'd beaten it away from Al Mamoon after getting his fill of it pretty quickly, but after having not thought about it for a while he could see some superficial similarities with Esaka... or at least with factions within Esaka.
Primrose took a sip of her tea and then looked over the gathered group. "Oh, yes, that UN group you all were working with? Sakura, Therion, and myself paid a visit to that headquarters last night. Their leader would like to extend a formal invitation to work together."
The edges of her mouth quirked up, apparently having thought the need for formalities a little silly. "Also, discounted hospital stays and... ki-tuning. One of their members mentioned it would really help those fighting in the tournaments. A process to strengthen the body that she likened to... tuning an instrument's strings.
"I plan to go hear more about it myself this morning." Far be it to leave untapped power on the table.
Word Count: 6,377 (+7 exp) Ace - Level: 9 - Total EXP: 513/90 Level 7 Heismay (52/70) @Lugubrious@Yankee
"I don’t hear anything," Ace said once they’d left the poor woman to her wallowing. His brows pulled together as he clarified. "I mean, I don’t hear anything weird. That I wouldn’t expect to."
The creak of wood, the soft splashing of water, the groans of the monstrosities moving around and their own footsteps amid other little ambient noises. To the Cadet there was no noise strange enough to pinpoint, so he was willing to bet that the woman was either suffering some affliction that tuned her in to something only she could hear, or that she’d gone mad a while ago. Ace glanced down at Heismay, particularly the eugief’s ears before meeting his ruby eyes. "Do you?"
“You mean, the ‘blackness’?” Although Heismay shook his head, he subconsciously kept his voice down. “No.”
"In the other room I did hear some noise I thought was weird, but I couldn’t find where it was coming from. Probably not the same thing-"
Oh right, the other room! It was almost funny how easily it had slipped his mind after the surprise of running into another Seeker so quickly, stepping into the alchemical laboratory, and then going right back out of the lab into a whole shanty town.
"You said the rooms shift around, right?" Ace turned his eyes up to the wooden crossroads they’d come from, rubbing at the back of his head. "I didn’t even think of it ‘til now, but this definitely isn’t the room I came from! I was in a bunk room. So every time we open a door, we’re gonna get a whole new place, even if it’s the same door?"
The realization prompted a raised eyebrow from Heismay. “Truly? Then there is no navigating this place. We might be here a while.”
The hunter groaned. "This really giggisux."
Just when he was starting to get used to all of the magic wantonly used by his teammates, now they'd all had to get sucked into this magic labyrinth. How were they supposed to get out of here if every door led to a random area, one that wasn’t even guaranteed to be a ‘room’ at all, like where Heismay and Ace found themselves now?
The Cadet suppressed a shiver, slapped his palms to his cheeks once, and then looked back at Heismay with a little more of his normal go-getter attitude showing. At the very least, this put into perspective the importance of thoroughly investigating each place to get every item and clue possible, in case any of it could help them find a way to leave.
"Alright, let’s just grab the bull by the fangos! When you’re ready we’ll have a real look around this place - but I think we should start with clearing out anything dangerous first."
Which meant the multi-limbed pustule carriers that crawled through the levels below them as the most obvious dangers, but anything else that might impede their search as well.
Heismay gave a curt nod and readied his blade. “Let us begin.”
On the way down to the next level, the first of many surprises reared its ugly head. A Forgotten emerged from the hut at the far side, registered the Seekers as they creaked across the rotten planks, and charged. As it plodded toward them on all fours, strange spores broke free from its bulging boils, but Heismay’s first thought was on the foe ahead of him. “Hup!” He hopped forward with a somersault, his longsaber flashing in a vertical circle as he cut into the Forgotten from above. When he sliced clean through one of the pus-filled tumors, it popped, exposing a section of raw, unprotected flesh. The monster stumbled, gurgling in pain, and almost fell off the bridge.
Only when Heismay landed did he truly observe the spores as they floated down, their vile green glow rapidly intensifying. “Look out!” He hopped backward just before the spores exploded, which proved to be more punishment than the feeble bridge could handle. The blast broke it in half, and splinters flew as the Forgotten plummeted down, down, down into the gunky pool below. Though very aware that he might have just leaped into an ambush, Heismay chanced a quick look back to make sure Ace didn’t take a tumble as well. “Hunter?”
"I'm good!" Ace called back. He was currently swaying over the hole blasted into the wood, suspended by a short chain that connected to the slinger on his arm. He definitely hadn't expected the spores to be explosive - he'd figured poisonous if anything, and had gone in to follow up on Heismay's attack, leading to this. True to his word though he was still in one piece, if a little singed.
His anchor point protested the weight. The whole place being made of wood eroding from moisture made it even more precarious than it looked, and the shanty town already hadn't appeared particularly sturdy. Ace gripped the chain and swung over to land on the remaining planks before the beam above him could snap.
"Guess it'll be trickier than I thought, but no problem." It just meant melee attacks would be riskier, but ranged ones probably still worked - and there was a shiny new bowgun on the hunter's back just waiting to be used. He glanced down to see if he could tell if the creature had survived the fall before looking back at Heismay. "Think they can climb?"
After confirming for himself that Ace seemed to be in good shape, Heismay began to search the immediate area for any more hostiles. “Better to assume they can,” he reasoned. Although the Forgotten had managed to startle him, both with its sudden appearance and its explosive payload, Heismay felt better than before. The anticipation always turned out to be worse than the actual enemies involved, and since he’d been expecting mages in Winterhold College, explosive crawlers weren’t that big an issue. He did feel bad for whatever these monsters used to be, though, and he couldn’t help but wonder if their proximity to that alchemy lab -with all those freaky jarred specimens- was a coincidence. Only after thinking this did he remember what the Cadet said about opening doors in here. That would take some time for him to wrap his head around.
Heismay couldn’t see any more Forgotten in the immediate area, but there were a couple more lurking farther down in the shantytown towers. Their presence gave Ace just the chance he’d been looking for to put his new Crab Buster to use. Though not as accurate as his other bowgun, the glowing pustules on the backs of these mutants were hard to miss. While he took potshots at the Forgotten, the eugief tentatively poked his head into the hut that the first creature emerged from. This one seemed bigger than average, so he carefully checked each corner of the first floor, but nothing jumped out at him. Among the decrepit furniture here, only one table had stood the test of time, and upon it sat a green cowboy hat. It looked stylish, if a little damp, and definitely too big for Heismay’s head. Nevertheless he picked it up and stuffed it in his pack, reasoning that someone else might want it. Then he made for the stairs to the basement.
One step at a time, Heismay creaked down into the lower level of the hovel. Only a little torchlight filtered through the gaps between the wooden slats to reach this dismal place, but the eugief could see relatively well thanks to his night vision. What he saw, before he even reached the bottom of the stairs, was a grotesque, slouching mass of oily, viscous green slime…or was it paint? A random assortment of malformed limbs and bulging eyeballs surrounded half of a human face, its melting, ichorous flesh exposing a rictus grin. On such a horrendous visage, the emotion of fury looked especially appalling.
“Aarrrgh!! I could FEEL victory in my GRASP! You TOOK the hat! But just... DIDN'T PUT IT ON!! WHY?!” Heismay froze at the sound of a twisted voice, abysmally deep and awfully wet, like a demon with a phlegm-filled throat. “You just... put me away in the bag. Didn't even try it!? Not for a MOMENT. You are INFURIATING.”
Heismay’s mind raced. Hat? The hat he picked up? A chill shot down his spine as he felt something in his bag squirm. From the way this thing referred to that hat as ‘me’, was it a mimicry born of this monster somehow? Although the situation alarmed him, Heismay couldn’t help but find it odd how preoccupied this being was with its trap not working out, purely by accident. “I didn’t think it would fit me,” he offered as an excuse.
“BULLSHIT!” the monster snarled. “It would TOTALLY fit. You made no attempt.” With a growl, the abomination writhed horribly. “ARGGGGH. Nothing is going my way. What am I going to do now?! This was my SHOT. Forcing some idiot to kill the others for me. I'm just stuck with voices in my head, now?! Forever?! NO. No way. I can still do this.”
Heismay turned to go, running up the stairs to the first floor. “Ace! I need a hand!”
“I just need to try again on the next idiot…” Toxic Fred continued from below. The next moment, the floorboards burst and the monstrosity hoisted itself up into the shack. Only with a corkscrew bullet jump did Heismay evade its grasp. “And instead of a hat, your CORPSE will be the bait!”
The shouting easily passed through the wooden walls, reaching Ace in the quiet pauses between bursts of gunfire. Every malevolent creature taken out now was one less they would have to deal with later, so leaving the scouting to the actual scout and picking off what he could only made sense. But as soon as he heard the start of rising voices the hunter blinked and turned towards the shack, and at Heismay's call he wasted no time in sprinting to the eugief's side. He made it to the door as the angry slime was breaking through the floor, and though the Crab Buster was already aimed and ready to fire, the sight of this Fred made Ace hesitate. He'd seen a lot of unusual people, monsters, and monster-people, but nothing quite like the thing in front of them.
He had no idea if bullets would even work on a viscous enemy like this, but he was about to find out.
"What's with him?!" he asked as he pulled the bowgun's trigger. Unlike Heismay, Ace hadn't spared a thought for the Forgotten's original forms, simply assuming they'd always been that way, but now he wondered if this guy had suffered some transformation down here - or if he was just a monster that Heismay had set off.
The bowgun bolts, even those that directly hit one of Toxic Fred’s eyes, did not elicit quite the response that Ace expected. These were not true organs, after all, but painted simulacra meant to mimic the real thing. Instead of getting wounded, the monster’s oily body merely parted, leaving holes behind. Still, every little bit of paint separated from the whole and splattered across the planks was one step closer to victory, and the hits were definitely registering if Fred’s reaction was anything to go by.
“GAAAH! Another one, even MORE annoying, somehow! Get over here and get what’s coming to you!”
If Fred wanted to be up close, Heismay did not want to let that happen. With his flashing longsaber he hacked at the horror’s myriad limbs and deflected their clumsy swipes. Fred had a lot of arms, though, and this wooden platform did not offer Heismay much room to maneuver. After a frenzied few moments, a hastily deflected paint arm managed to scratch one of Heismay’s long ears, leaving a little green muck behind. Within seconds the eugief could feel a foreign substance pushing through his veins like fire, weakening him from within. “Hngh. Poison!”
“AHA!” Emboldened by his success, Fred sent a half-dozen arms at Heismay in a vicious lunge. Of course, Ace knew as well as anyone that Heismay was neither as small nor as weak as he looked, at least not all the time. The hermit transformed, alight with orange energy as he assumed the form of the Assassin. A cleaving swipe from his curved greatsword scattered Fred’s limbs in splotches. With a spin, Heismay then brought a Lurking Nightblade down on the main body’s head.
Fred gurgled angrily. “Urk!” Realizing that Ace and Heismay were a match for him in this state, he allowed his painted form to change. “Heh heh heh heh... I don't need to fight you alone…” he chuckled. The next second, he violently split into three parts connected by tendrils, his green paint hardening into the more solidly defined form. “HEH HEH HEH HEH… MUCH better.”
His glee came to an abrupt end when Heismay cast Mudo in his face and a dark explosion erupted amongst his eyes. “Augh!” Still using his Assassin Archetype, the eugief jumped forward with a wide swing to catch all three parts in one slash, then reverted to his normal form and leaped away from a fusillade of angry kicks.
The three segments taking more distinct physical forms was a boon for the bowgun, or at least it felt that way as once Heismay was clear and the monster hunter opened fire once more each landed shot punched solidly against the hardened paint conglomerate. Ammo chewed through the fragment on the left until it collapsed back into a puddle. Ace half expected it to reform, but it only seeped through the gaps in the floor as the two remaining sections attempted to make up for the loss.
They swelled together for a moment, upper and lower jaws connecting to spit blobs of toxic paint at the Seekers. Then the pieces charged through the gunfire with their limbs lashing. Ace dodged out of the way of the projectile and fired the slinger's hooked claw at the right section of Fred. Before it connected the Cadet jerked the chain up, forming the anchor shape at the end that wrapped the chain around the segment and drove the sharp end into it. It stopped Fred in place, the middle section flopping over at the sudden halt.
Even like this the right fragment shuddered and attempted to throw poisonous pieces of itself about, though another twist of the chain as it was reeled back carved the anchor through it, and the follow up from the Crab Buster was more than enough to melt it. The center section remained, but deprived of its legs Fred would have to use his tentacle-like arms to maneuver - and he was not quick enough to escape the eugief's saber.
“This is it!” Heismay jumped, sprang off the hut’s outer wall for extra height, then brought his sword down in as heavy a cleave as he could manage. A plunging thrust might have worked, but against a sentient paint mass without vital organs to penetrate, separation made more sense to him.
With Fred’s center mass already softened up by plenty of bulletholes, Heismay’s finisher sliced clean through. The monster’s many eyes bulged, his half-mustache frayed in almost comical fashion, and after a second its lips curled for one final snarl. “This is bullsh-”
The two halves of Fred’s abominable head split apart like banana peels melting into colorful gunk.
Heismay let out his breath. He could still feel his foe’s toxic parting gift inside him, but while the poison would probably continue to rankle his insides for a while, it wouldn’t be enough to keep him down. “Well done,” he told Ace, a little breathlessly. “You cleared out the swollen ones, yes? Let’s get to the bottom of this place while we still can.” With so many monsters in here, there had to be something worth protecting.
"Yep, all that I could see - and good work you too." Ace offered the eugief a fist to bump, though it didn't occur to him that Heismay might not recognize the gesture. "I might have an antidote in my bag if that thing got you good. Potions too."
Without Blazermate or Sandalphon to rely on it would probably behoove them to stay as healthy as possible as they explored, but then again saving such single use items for when they really needed them might be smarter.
“If it does not subside soon, I’ll accept your antidote,” Heismay decided. If his system couldn’t counteract the poison, it could spell his doom no matter how manageable it might seem at first.
A minute later, the two reached the bases of the shanty towers. They ringed the fetid reservoir that Heismay and Ace saw from above, and now that they were down here, the odor was abysmal, though it stank of rot more than it did sewage. Heismay wrinkled his nose, his eyes narrowed in distaste. “Tis lucky indeed that my sense of smell pales in comparison to my sight and hearing.” With how things had been going so far, he half-expected something truly wretched to lurch out of the stagnant basin, but if there was something alive in there, it took long enough for the tension to fade. Once he judged that the moment had passed, Heismay took a better look at his surroundings. Though the cistern’s bottom featured mossy stone brick walls, interspersed with gnarled roots and streaks of crusty saltpeter, it did offer two rounded tunnels opposite one another, dirty but mostly dry. At the end of each, Heismay saw a foul altar of wood, bone and rope, with multiple corpses tied up in ritualistic fashion. Purple light shone from the eyes of the dead, and an unpleasant, almost scratchy hum emanated from them.
“Some form of grisly occultism,” Heismay ventured after a moment, his voice low. “For what purpose, I cannot fathom. Yet I am quite sure that we would be better off without them.” He peered at Ace. “Shall we split up and dismantle them both at once?”
"Split up..." Ace repeated quietly, looking between both paths. It wasn't that the hunter was afraid to go off on his own, but staring down the corridors into the face of, as Heismay put it, grisly occultism threw a heaping amount of doubt onto a plan that otherwise Ace wouldn't have thought twice about.
"I guess that would be the fastest... just hope it doesn't turn out to be a 'grave' mistake." He said the last part mostly to himself, thinking up some macabre wordplay to make himself feel better. A moment later Ace held up a hand to stop his own thoughts from starting to rush. With the same hand he hitched a thumb down the tunnel on his left. "Okay, destroying them at the same time probably is the best option, so let's do it. I'll go this way. After a sec to raise my spirits."
His words prompted Heismay’s big ruby-red eyes to linger on him a moment longer, ever-so-slightly uncertain. He wasn’t aware of Ace’s disinclination toward magic, but he was picking up on some doubts, and if the hunter himself wasn’t confident it might be better to stick together. Plus, not being a pun lover, he took the wordplay a bit more seriously than he probably should have. “Hmm…”
The two parted ways, with Heismay vanishing into the shadows. It was only a short walk for Ace to the end of his designated tunnel, and getting close to the witchcraft didn’t make him feel any better. The air in here practically crawled; he could see tiny, itchy black distortions, subtle but unnerving. "This is giving me Bazelgeuse-bumps..." he said to himself.
Still, nothing happened while Ace hesitated in front of the creepy set up. Briefly he turned to look back down the tunnel he'd come from. Nothing continued to happen up until he attempted to damage the altar, drawing his sword this time. The whole thing let out a loud, startling creak, and both the dark distortions and purple corpse-gaze intensified. Dark magic blossomed in the corners of the room, churning like oceanic whirlpools, and from them came four sunken jumpers. Seething with volatile fluid, the ritual-twisted wretches began to leap, and with each froglike bound they planted a gelatinous mine where they landed. A moment after the pandemonium began, however, one of the four jumpers disappeared into the darkness and did not re-emerge.
Already wound up, the noise and the sudden summoning made Ace flinch just long enough that the first Jumper out of its portal collided with him. They went down to the ground, the creature swiping until Ace got his boots between himself and it, kicking its glowing chest hard enough to throw it off and rolling to his feet. He didn't even notice that one went missing as he tried dealing with the other three. His sword was drawn but he was not in the right state of mind to parry - evasion then? The next one leapt and Ace dodge to one side, slicing along the pustules on its back with the blood drawing Sakura Slash. He could tell these were a fair bit more durable than their green cousins just from the feel of the blade against them.
Then of course he stepped into one of the piles of slime that one of the Jumpers left behind as he did his best avoiding them in the small space, triggering its detonation. He staggered, back hitting the wall, barely lurching away as a Jumper slammed into the brick beside him.
Ace turned the Yato's blade and drew up in an underhanded swing that caught the next Jumper across its face and flung it back before jamming a hand into his field pouch to feel for one of the utility bombs in it. The creatures might not even have regular senses to take advantage of, but if they did then living in a dark, dank place like this would probably make them susceptible to sudden bright light - and he had to try something! The Cadet pulled a flash bomb and threw it at his feet where it erupted and engulfed the room a moment later.
For a split second, every shadow vanished and pure, chemical light blasted the oubliette’s depths. All three jumpers gave an agonized, gurgling shriek as they blindly flung themselves away from the baleful glare. The flash bomb also illuminated -and stunned- Heismay, the unseen slayer of the fourth jumper who’d decided to join Ace stealthily to make sure there were no problems, unbeknownst to the monster hunter himself. Heismay’s sword clattered to the ground as he groaned, holding his eyes with both hands. One of the jumpers, already wounded by the eugief, turned its attention toward him upon recovering. While blinded, though, Heismay wasn’t deaf. He leaped to the side to evade the leap, then transformed into the Gunner and took aim at the sound of the jumper landing. His Sleep Shot struck the monster and knocked it out like a light, just long enough that its own gel bomb went off and blasted it into a wall.
Naturally any triumph that Ace might have felt at driving the Jumpers back long enough to regroup was completely negated by the unfortunate surprise that he'd caught his comrade in the flash as well. Though Heismay couldn't see it the hunter grimaced and followed with, "damn, sorry Heismay!"
Though his apology would be better if he made use of the opening he'd made for himself, which he got right on doing. The sound of Ace moving was totally different than the Jumpers, the clinking of his metal equipment and brushing of his fur armor distinct from the fleshy impacts of the mutants. While Heismay transformed and took aim at one, Ace squared off against another that was blinking the stars from its purple eyes. His weapon bit deep into its extra set of arms that it hastily raised to protect its head, but when it scrambled back and reared up on its legs with intent to slam the ground and set off the rest of the mines around the room prematurely, Ace followed swiftly with his sword. With a jab it sunk into its middle, twisted, and ripped up through the glowing chest. Pieces of what was probably viscera and whatever explosive bile they spread gushed out as the Jumper toppled backward, defenseless against the fatal blow that came after.
With one left Ace spun in the direction he'd seen it last, lashing out with a wide lateral slash as it tried leaping for the new enemy in the Gunner archetype that it'd heard fire at its kin. When the blade connected it sent the Jumper to the ground, leaving yet another dangerous puddle behind as it popped back up and got ready to jump again. The Cadet's eyes flickered from it, to the remaining gel mines, to Heismay. He slammed the long sword into a sheathed position at his side, taking an iai stance. Only once the creature came at him did he move again, blade flashing out to catch the Jumper mid-air. And he estimated that it would land again... "One hundred centimeters in front of you, fifty-two to your left!"
That wasn’t very far, so while Heismay wasn’t confident he could shoot that way while blind, he had other options. “O, power of kings!” Switching archetypes, he became the Assassin and lashed out with Lurking Nightblade in a wide horizontal sweep. The heavy slice finished the jumper off, leaving just the vile altar.
As the eugief’s sight returned to him, he narrowed his eyes, then launched his metal frame at the ritualistic monument. “Begone!” His blade scattered bones and body parts, cracking the framework, but it wasn’t enough to destroy the profane thing. That honor, it seemed, would go to Ace. At that point the hunter wanted this over with as soon as possible. He swiped his sword at the base of the structure, weakening it more than enough for it to collapse. It broke apart along the fractures Heismay had created when it fell, though for good measure the Cadet made sure to slice apart the wheel that was its foul centerpiece.
Strange violet flame raged through the fragments of the altar, consuming the materials and corpses in seconds. When the flash fire died down, only one thing remained: the bone shaft of a macabre weapon of some kind, expertly made but lacking any kind of blade.
Heismay padded over to Ace as he cleaned his blade. “One down, one to go.” After he blinked the last few fleeting stars from his eyes, he offered the hunter a conciliatory smile. “And fret not about the bomb. I should have better communicated my intent to join you.”
"I'm glad you did," the Cadet told him, returning a smile of his own after wiping a hand over his clothes to make sure nothing was sticking to them, real or imagined. The explosive slime would be a pain, but those dark distortions in the air had been particularly off-putting. After waffling for a few moments about whether to take the bone handle he eventually ended up grabbing it, though he packed it away rather quickly. Then he turned back to Heismay. "Fur real. Been at this Seekers of Light thing for a couple weeks now but this kinda thing's still out of my element. Feels better to have somebody Wacha-ing my back, though. Rest assured I've got yours too!"
At the opposite end of the sewer system lay a similar room, its befouled altar slightly different in appearance but no less loathsome. This time, Ace and Heismay stood united, ready to face whatever came. In addition the eugief had an idea. Given the jumpers’ explosive tendencies, he’d collected their spirits, and now he crushed them in rapid succession. The first cashed out a few coins, the second a strange eyeball, and the third a hex wreath formed of seabird bones, but the fourth gave him what he’d been looking for: a grimy round bottle packed with heavy, oily, and very flammable-looking grease. Heismay tossed it up and down in his hand. “Got a light?” he asked.
Ace opened his mouth to answer with an affirmative, but when he actually thought about it he stalled. It was a little funny that with all of the tools he carried a simple fire starter was not among them. There might have been one with the camping supplies, though it was lost or on the Avenger. There was also that portable grill, but... well, regardless of the fact that he'd have to remember to pick one up, he did have something that should work.
In the ammo section of his field pouch there were different types of bullets, nearly indistinguishable save for the colors of their casings. The Cadet had made as many kinds as he could back when he could as they weren't quite as easy to craft as the standard rounds given the materials they needed. Now he withdrew a clip of red ones.
"Flaming shots," he answered happily, already on board with the eugief's plan. It took not a moment for him to unload and replace the heavy bowgun's ammo with the incendiary rounds. Then he hefted the weapon up. "Ready to fire!"
“Here it goes!” Heismay pitched the tar bottle at the altar. It shattered, its contents splashed across the profane structure, and the next moment Ace’s special shot ignited the whole thing. In an instant the whole thing began to shake, its corpses writhing as their inner glow surged. The intensity of the response frightened Heismay for a brief second, but the sight of miasmic portals galvanized him into action.
Instead of sunken jumpers, however, the burning of this altar beckoned forth the Sunken Witch cackling madly as she dragged a huge, heavy anchor behind her.
”The ringleader!” Heismay guessed, brandishing his saber as the witch charged. She swung the anchor high in an uppercut, which the eugief dodged with a sidestep, then brought her bludgeon down in a massive slam that Heismay leaped away from. As he slid to a stop by the tunnel entrance, he assumed the Gunner’s form and nailed the witch with a Poison Shot. “A taste of your own medicine!”
Slower to move was the Ace Cadet, but move he did, not about to let Heismay fight alone. With the Crab Buster already equipped and ready for more action, the hunter followed the Poison Shot up with gunfire of his own. The remainder of the clip of Flaming Shots ripped from the bowgun towards the witch, followed by a hail of the normal ammo on hand with only a brief delay between them.
The gunfire perforated the witch’s black attire, staggering her for a second or so. Rather than attempt to return fire with any hexes or familiars, though, the witch just charged at Ace. She swung her anchor in a loop, intercepting enough shots that she could close the distance with a leaping smash, though not without Heismay’s longsaber slicing across her back the moment after she landed.
Ace had rolled out of the way of the slam as the witch came down, and though she was too close for the bowgun's optimal damage range he didn't risk swapping out the weapon while she was focused on him. That anchor suggested that she preferred to get up close and personal like this, which honestly suited the hunter just fine. He'd much rather deal with that than spell slinging, but he remained on guard anyway, not ruling that possibility out. He backed up, feeling for the edge of the room with his heel so he'd be able to tell how much room he had to maneuver as he kept the pressure on with his shots.
Heismay’s distraction gave Ace the brief window he needed to make some space, while the eugief himself darted away from the witch’s swings. Given the damage already done to him by Toxic Fred’s poison, Heismay could especially not afford to take a clean hit from the mad hag’s anchor. His goal wasn’t to do damage, but to divide his foe’s attention and give his ally as much time to shoot her up as possible. Thank goodness I did not attempt this alone, he thought wryly.
After a few seconds, Heismay backpedaled a little too far, close enough to the burning altar to feel the heat on his back. The corpses’ clawing grasp reached for him, raking his coat, and he hurriedly batted at them as he hopped away. By the time he returned his attention to the witch, though, she had already reached the Cadet. He wasn’t quite cornered, but one wrong roll and he would be stuck between the wall and the witch’s weighty steel prongs. “Over here!” Becoming the Assassin, Heismay lobbed a Mudo at the witch’s back, but the dark magic might have just as well been a mosquito for all the effect it had. Realizing his rushed mistake, Heismay broke out into a run to try and race to Ace’s aid.
Though riddled with holes at this point the dark clothed woman did not slow down. Ace had a general grasp of his spacing as she swung at him, and the hunter continued to pull the trigger in between dipping, dodging, and side-stepping the iron anchor. It was hard to keep focus though, and when the spell burst on the witch it verged on breaking as Ace's gaze flicked to the impact spot while the witch did not even flinch.
She whipped her arm back and brought the anchor over her shoulder with a heavy swing. Poor timing on Ace's part meant he'd missed a window to reposition and could only duck as it slammed into the wall where his head had been, wedged deep into the stone. The witch did not let her weapon remain stuck for very long, grasping it in both hands and forcibly yanking it free while chunks of brick rained down on the Cadet. Being pelted with rocks was nothing he couldn't weather, but the situation in general wasn't good. He knew he could survive if struck but enduring that for a counter attack was preferably a last resort - so how to get out of this before the witch brought the anchor down again?
Ace dropped the bowgun first. He hated to treat his equipment that way but stuck in this close of quarters he'd need to swap weapons after all. It clattered to the ground as one hand flew to the hilt of Yato once more, but without something to throw the witch off he wasn't sure he'd be fast enough to intercept her. Something, something-! He discarded the options that came to mind for various reasons until he felt the soft weight around his neck as he shifted. That was something. Something he could control. Ace's other hand grasped the pendant as a vision of a skeletal wyvern manifested, flying up through the witch as she hefted the anchor for another swing and taking her aback. It didn't deal her any damage, but distracted her long enough for Heismay to arrive and for Ace to surge up out of his crouch while the wyvern circled back towards him.
Weakened to take more (and deal less) damage the witch screeched as Heismay's blade sunk into her back. At the same time, a slightly more empowered Cadet stabbed his own sword into her front. Skewered, the witch tried flailing her weapon at both of the Seekers until she could no longer hold it, then clawed at them while her body gave out and she eventually slumped over. When the blades were pulled out she fell to the ground and began to disintegrate. As she fell, the last of the foul altar’s strength gave out and the flames consumed it. Quickly the orange flames turned violet, ravaging the wreckage until nothing was left save a curved and wickedly sharp blade, a perfect pairing for the black-wrapped bone recovered from the other altar.
Ritualist Scythe An awkward but lethally sharp instrument of merciless death. Its blade carves all the quicker based on how many different statuses the target is afflicted with, ensuring a quick end to their suffering. Dran ritualists are zealots to the core, dedicated wholeheartedly to those arcane arts that require an especially honed tolerance for depravity and the stench of death. Though the power and resources their acts garner is tempting, there are more comfortable and less pungent ways to make a living.
Heismay let out his breath, the tension slowly eking out of his muscles. “Twas a brief but bitter struggle,” he summarized. “Hopefully, that is the last we’ll see of this occultism. And with any luck, the labyrinth will be that much easier to depart from.”
Ace nodded in agreement, taking a moment to let himself lean against one of the still intact walls and catch his breath. "Yeah. One hex of an experience, but we got through it." The hunter was definitely grateful that he'd run into Heismay so quickly, as ending up in a place like this one without a friendly face would have been much, much worse. Recovered after said moment, he withdrew a small pouch of powder from his bag and tossed it up into the air. The lifepowder scattered around the room, healing himself and Heismay. A sort of consecration of the area if one were inclined to think that way.
Then Ace collected the bowgun, properly stowing it away before moving on to the scythe head to complete the piece. He'd wielded something similar earlier on in the Seekers' campaign, although this one looked a little more rustic in addition to ritualistic. Hard to tell if it was a magic weapon, and after a moment of scrutinizing it Ace looked over to see if the eugief was interested in their hard won reward. It could be handled similar to a long sword, he reasoned, or at least that was how he and fellow monster hunters tended to use scythes. It'd take some learning to get used to but it wasn't as far off in fighting style as it might have looked.
Once that was settled and the two of them made it back out onto the cistern's edge where they could see the rest of the shantytown again, Ace pointed straight up to the cross bridge a ways above them.
"Now that it's cleared out let's scour this place for anything we missed, then see where the next door takes us!"
Location Frozen highlands Word Count: Less than 750
For the whole time Blazermate had been fighting against the silk-strung bug husks, the little pilgrim Sherma continued to cower in his hiding spot. Even as his voice wavered, though, he continued to sing and ring his little bell, a brave prayer for deliverance for himself and his mysterious mechanical benefactor.
"F-fa ri doo...la see ma net. Do...d-do ni pwa nah...v-vo li net..."
Only when Armstrong felled the final few bugs did Sherma look fearfully around the gloomy surgical ward and find no more nightmarish puppets. Still trembling, he looked up at Blazermate and gave a tentative nod. "Oh blue maiden, sorry to have lured you into such danger!" he squeaked in a small voice, though Blazermate could tell Sherma was trying to be brave. "And those poor bugs, bewitched by the thread. No sin could possibly warrant such a fate..."
He took a deep breath, and with the medabot's help began to climb out of the junk pile into the open, careful not to leave his hat behind. "This is...some kind of hospital? I wandered a time before I could find it, and now I should get these healing supplies back to the chapel." Tentatively he looked between the operating theater's doorways. "There's no telling where the doors in here lead, but with enough patience and faith, I'll surely find the chapel again. What's another pilgrimage, eh? Ha ha!" Still not quite steady, he donned his knapsack and began to patter toward one of the doors, one little bug against the world.
Blazermate waved him goodbye. She wasn't entirely sure if she should escourt him as he left the room. But as she decided to at least make sure he reached the next room and left the room herself, Blazermate found that Sherma had just disappeared. Perhaps he entered a different room or something as Blazermate found herself in a new room.
The Shattered Gallery
A once-grand hall in an ornate, almost reverential style, fallen to ruin in a strange fashion. The color itself seems to have drained from the room as mounds of dust and cave-like formations took over. One of the walls is almost entirely bare rock, and a number of curious holes exist on its surface, shaped like people and weirdly familiar. Near the grim fae statues that loom over the desolate chamber with crossed arms, a nightmarish being kneels, praying. Magister Dullain is a twisted being, a pale humanoid with a claylike face and a torso hollowed out into a gaping maw lined with teeth and tusks, wielding a staff of bone and a seastone lantern.
Blazermate saw the creature in the new area and wondered if it was hostile or not. If it wasn't for a few of the people in the previous towns she had met before being also weird and monster like, she would be much more gung ho on attacking this guy, but for now she'd be more cautious. Although something about this monster seemed... familiar and not in a good way.
She then had a bit of a shiver go through her frame as she was reminded of the Maw, and decided to get out of the room. Although going through the door she just came out of wouldn't work right? So she looked around and found a wall with holes. One that was suspiciously Blazermate shaped. Looking at it, she soon found that the hole was getting closer, and getting darker... And as she got closer to investigate the hole, the darker things got. And darker, and darker and....
Blazermate's fear of darkness activated. And wanting to get away from the hole as fast as possible, Blazermate summoned her Armstrong Striker who subsequently moved Blazermate away from the hole... Violently by punting the medabot like a football through the room, making a commotion as she crashed through the room's entrance. She didn't get away from the hypnotic hole unscathed, Armstrong was not gentle, but she did find herself in a new room.
------------------------------------------
Roland
Level 8 Roland (9/80) - Holding 1 level up. Location: Eseka Word Count: less than 750
Roland listened to the stories of the other seekers. He had seen some of this stuff in the reports on the Avenger, but it was nice hearing it from the others discussing them. "I suppose I'm up. I joined fairly recently. I helped take down the guardian in Midgar. They had this problem called the Ever Crisis, caused by the power players in the city itself. I was one of President Shinra's personal assassins. Well, before I got freed. Funny enough, Shinra did end up winning in the end with one of the seekers turning his opponent, Armstrong, into a striker. But of course there was problems with the thing providing power to Midgar being some giant robot that was the guardian that people had to take out. At least Binah helped with restoring the city... I think. Sakura stayed back so she should have more information on it."
Eating some of his food, grabbing a carb loaded sandwich with lots of toppings instead of the rice or sausages the others had grabbed, Roland continued. "Then we played some 'minigames' as they're called. Speaking of, I still have a spirit I feel Jr. could use better than I could if I can find a replacement that fits me better."
Roland then continued saying a few more recent things that happened, one that Therion had been at with the foodsnax cultists and everything, but unlike the others outside of talking about the Ever crisis in Midgar he didn't have a whole lot to discuss.
Level 9 - EXP 65/90 The Midnight Walk - Winterhold College Word Count:777 +1 EXP
Without much more time for contemplation on his next action, the Omnic simply continued through the Hall of Elements opposite door, just barely missing Ganondorf as he entered. The translucent blue glow of his robotic flesh was intriguing, though certainly not the solution he was seeking to escape this labyrinth. It was obvious now, though that the room layout was not set, as traveling through the door he started in at the Hall of Elements was no longer the Pools.
As the door closed behind Ramattra, he began taking note of the rooms he was exiting. There was no coincidence that his allies hadn’t yet found one another. The new room he found himself in was a quaint greenhouse, filled with unidentifiable plants that have been built on a wooden deck. The back wall is made entirely of brick, and the panes of the windows can swivel. In one corner, an odd shaman with a sun mask sits atop a rug with a number of wands arranged as if for sale. Elsewhere, two aphids (one tall and one short) sit together in a flowerbed, sipping dew drinks as they smoke some sizzling, sputtering fatty meat
While the large botanical room was sure to be chock-full of secrets and potentially food, something raised caution in the Omnic’s circuits. Looking outside, Ramattra’s vision was obscured by heavy rainfall and fog. Was there something preventing him from simply opening the window and stepping out into the mist? It was certainly something worth investigating- but not before questioning the room’s residents about his whereabouts.
Ramattra approached the two tiny insects, crouching down on his three legs so that they could hear him without difficulty. “You two wouldn’t happen to know where I’ve wound up, would you? I’m a bit erm… Disoriented?” He took a moment to think about his next words carefully. “And is it safe to open the window? I’d like to take a closer look outside.” There was no easy way to be discreet with the strangers. He still had no idea where any of his companions were, and traversing these rooms took a lot of energy.
The smaller, rounder aphid, still about two feet tall, waved hello. "Much and many greetings, Mr. Three-legs! This place-place is called Winterhold. We couriers came here to deliver supplies, make wish-wish come true. But once we's come in, not me nor brother Pill finding way out!"
Pill, the taller aphid at a scant three feet, seem equally genial and unbothered by Ramattra's imposing stature. "We make home in this safe place, just, but I'm is worries for others. Lots people need their good-goods. Many bugs helped by us couriers, me and brother Tipp. Special now when danger grows big-big."
"There is not any outside, Three-legs," Tipp warned before pulling off a hunk of rasher and handing it to Pill, who began to eat with gusto. "Only fog. I'm tried dropping the pot-pot, but never hear any shatterings down below."
Kashmir approached the Omnic stubbornly, pulling on the appendage dressing his spider-like legs. The small creature nodded before pointing its stubby hand toward its mouth. “Ah. You’re hungry. I suppose we have been on the road for quite some time since your last snack. Go search the plantlife around here for any food for the rest of the group. I’ll search too.” Ramattra wasn’t ready to approach the creepily masked wand merchant. Scanning the walls and floors of the room, the Omnic searched for any tools, supplies, and helpful plants, while Kashmir made an effort to harvest anything edible.
Unfortunately for Kashmir, this greenhouse seemed more specialized for the cultivation of herbs than any actual crops. Though many were fragrant, none of the leafy greens could be eaten alone. Their culinary value was probably lost on someone who wasn't even sentient, let alone a cook. Defeated, he huffed and would need to settle until they found the rest of the Seekers in this “Winterhold”.
Once the room had been picked of anything useful that could be spared, Ramattra bravely approached the wandsalesman and stared blankly at his sun-detailed mask. More than anything, he was curious what the odd magical trinkets could be capable of. “Oh… Hello, I was wondering… What do your ‘magic wands’ do exactly?...” The words almost sounded disingenuous coming from him. It was really difficult to suspend his belief in a concept that was considered fictional and childish in his world.
The wand merchant replied in a soft, ethereal voice. "The wand's power depends on wizard that wields it. With the Wand of Fire, even a novice mage could enchant herself with flame, or place explosive mines. With the Wand of Minor Arcana, grab distant objects, cast light, and teleport. With the Blessed wand, heal and create barriers. And with practice, a skilled magician could weave new words together to cast even grander spells..."
The Omnic contemplated the odd figure’s words. Wielding magic wasn’t something he had thought about very much, but it would certainly be useful. Perhaps his allies could benefit from using these should they meet up? The Minor Arcana wand certainly struck his interest, though… Maybe this stranger would be polite enough to barter.
Level 8 - EXP 69/80 The Midnight Walk - Winterhold College Word Count:489 +1 EXP
Tenna grabbed his giant spoon, parrying crossbow bolts anxiously as the gargoyle atop the stairs sniped down at Tenna and his entourage. “Gather up! There aren’t too many!” Fortunately, Tenna and his crew outnumbered their forces, but their stony exteriors would definitely make it difficult to easily fell them. One of his Shadow Guys equipped a Tommy gun while the other played defensive melodies on his magic saxophone. “Don’t let them knock you off! It’s a faaaaaaaaar drop!”
The CRT delivered a crushing blow with the comical spoon to the side of one of the axe-wielding gargoyles, making it enraged and begin slashing wildly at Tenna. One of the Shadow Guys blasting bullets saw this and smacked the stock of his weapon against its back, knocking its wind out and providing cover for Tenna to finish the stone threat off.
The other two attackers played defensively, seeing that Tenna was not simply a deadweight traveler. The other axe-wielder was fought off by Traffy, his minions giving Tenna a chance to confront the crossbow shooter. Lacking a weapon within easy access, the Gargoyle was slain quickly, taking a fast blow to the head from Tenna’s spoon. Once he got back to his crew, all that remained were the three souls of their attackers.
With his head held high, Tenna knew that Edward could hold his own and that they needed to progress further in the dungeon. Turning around, Tenna would have to return to the room he just exited to find more answers.
Entering the odd hall, the first thing Tenna had noticed was that his fellow Seeker Ganondorf had found his way to this room! “Oh! I had just seen Edward a moment ago! We need to hurry and find the others!” He urged the Gerudo king, picking up the pace, as he noticed the doorstop holding open the intersection between the Hall of Elements and The Pool. “Come on! We haven’t got any time to lose!”
As he opened the next door, Tenna was careful to place the doorstop next to his feet as he kicked it to keep the door open, revealing the next area…
A very large, almost cathedral-esque room, several stories in height, with a gothic architectural style. Its floorspace was dominated by a number of large, glowing crystal discs, connected by dotted lines to form a zigzag path all the way across the room from the double door to the other. At the north side, though, was a massive set of double doors, the sort that would typically lead outside rather than to another chamber within the building. Some sort of arcane mechanism seemed to be in place, but other than the doors and floor pattern, this room was completely barren.
Setting: Drizzly Friday Morning Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (228/150) Level 11 Big Band (149/110) Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy Word Count: 1616 (+3 -12) / 1010
Being a diner without any particular architectural style, Churning Butter had a pretty ordinary, flat concrete roof with a waist-high rim, dotted by air conditioner units and other functional fixtures. It looked pretty poor as a result, especially compared to nearby establishments with a much more Asian style, but the level surface would make for a half-decent impromptu battleground. Even if the rainwater was starting to pool into puddles here and there. For now, the drizzly remained light and pleasant, but after that power shower the other night Nadia could see that changing in an instant. Well, she didn’t plan to be up here a minute longer than she needed to. Until Beowulf joined her, though, she might as well warm up with some stretches.
The feral leaned forward, touching her toes a few times. She then bent over backward, leaning farther and farther until her midriff faced the sky and she could plant her palms on the rough surface behind her. Shifting her weight, she transitioned into a handstand, straightened her legs, and stretched them upward. Nadia willed her limbs to stretch beyond their limits, gritting her teeth as her muscle fibers extended, pushing her segments higher and higher. “Hnnnnnnng…nng!” After a moment they snapped back, and she separated them for an upside-down split. Again she stretched out her legs, twisting them until she could set her boots on the floor again, despite still being in a handstand. Then she released, uncoiling into a standing position.
From there, she twisted to either side a couple times, then began to pressurize her limbs and use jets of blood to extend them as far as she could before they snapped back. Whether she threw a spearfinger, knee, or thrust kick, her fibers could extend about fifteen feet at most. Nadia had an idea and launched both arms like grappling hooks to grab onto the rim of the diner’s roof, then backpedaled to try and stretch out her segments further. It didn’t take long for that to get painful, and given her natural pain resistance, she decided it’d be better to quit while she was ahead. From there she rolled her neck, then detached her head and began to bat it around like a soccer ball, using her knees and feet to keep it in the air. Once Nadia realized she was basically just playing around now, though, she popped her head back on with a sigh and found a spot to sit down. Facing the spot where Beowulf would come up, she adopted what she thought was a badass, brooding pose, her head bowed beneath her hood to keep the drizzle off her face.
Seconds after she got comfortable, the wrestler finally appeared. “Yo, there you are!” Beowulf had pulled up his own wolf fur hood, but like Nadia’s it didn’t cast enough of a shadow to hide his toothy grin. He waved and sauntered over as the feral sprang up. “So, what’s this proposition Annie’s got for me, huh?”
Nadia put her hands on her hips with a teasing smile. “Well, some buddies of mine were eyin’ your Tekken results so far, and they’re purr-etty impressed.” She began to circle the wrestler, her tail raised high and waving behind her. “We’ve got our sights set on dethronin’ all Four Kings, and you might just be the next guy to take a crack at Mr. Mishima. So we were thinkin’ it’s about time to help make that happen.”
“Oho, so Miss Kitty was a secret talent scout all along, eh?” Beowulf crossed his burly, hairy arms, his face full of confidence. “Well, you got a good nose, ‘cause you sure stumbled on some crazy talent!” He narrowed his eyes knowingly, as if he had Fortune all figured out. “Thing is, though, the ‘Wulf doesn’t forget his roots. If you’re trying to poach me for another dojo, you’re gonna have to make me an offer I can’t refuse!”
The feral feigned surprise. “Poach you? Why, I never! In fact, I don’t even have another dojo!” Nadia held up empty hands as she shook her head. “Beo, buddy, you don’t have to give up on anyone or anything. Just think of us like a….uh, what’s the word. Sponsor! Yeah, we’ve got your back, that’s all! We can let you in on a couple juicy secrets, includin’ ways you can boost your fightin’ power even fur-ther.” She clasped her hands behind her back innocently. “All I need from you is a little…test. To purr-ove you got what it takes. Right here, right meow.”
“Oh yeah?” That prompted a big grin from Beowulf. “Alright, I smell what you’re cooking!” He cracked his knuckles, then his neck from side to side. “Whether it’s morning, noon, or night, the ‘Wulf is always ready to throw down!” He planted his foot and raised his hands, ready to fight.
Nadia, however, only raised her eyebrows. “Throw down? Wait, pawse!” She tapped a horizontal hand atop the fingers of a vertical straight hand in the universal gesture for time out. “I think you misunderstand. What I have in mind is the true test for any fighter, or athlete, for that matter. An evaluation of the one thing that can make anyone a hero…cardio!”
In an instant Beowulf’s jaw dropped, and his stubbly face began to grow pale. “Cuh…cardio!?”
“Uh huh!” Nadia grinned smugly. “You and me are gonna have ourselves a parkour race through the streets of Esaka! A headlong sprint ‘til one of us drops!” She dropped into a runner’s stance. “You ready?”
The wrestler swallowed. “Uh…well, cardio isn’t really my thing. Us wrestlers, we’re all about strength trainin’. Can’t run away in the ring, after all! Haha…” He chuckled nervously as he patted his belly. “Plus, uh, I just ate, y’know! You’re not s’posed to exercise for, like, a whole half hour after eating!”
“You were ready to brawl a second ago!” Nadia argued, her expression playfully derisive. “To me, you just sound scared. What’s the matter, not man enough for a little run?”
Groaning, Beowulf looked away with his eyes screwed shut, then sighed. “Argh…no, no, I can do it! Nothin’s impossible for the ‘Wulf!” He shook over his shoulders and came over to stand beside Nadia, clumsily mimicking her stance. “Alright! Get ready to eat my dust!”
After a quick countdown, the two launched forward. They threw themselves from the roof of the diner and hit the sidewalk running. Nadia chose a random direction to sprint in, and Beowulf charged after her. Luckily it hadn’t occurred to the big dolt to ask her about the race’s endpoint, since she hadn’t thought that far ahead, but Nadia expected it wouldn’t matter. Rather than run at full speed, she slowed herself down just enough to stay one step ahead of Beowulf, her calico tail always waving just a few feet in front of him to spur him onward.
Things went about as Nadia expected. Within ten seconds, Beowulf was breathing hard. After twenty, he was huffing and puffing, his determined bull rush replaced by an ungainly jog. Even with the cool drizzle on his face, he was quickly turning red, sweat beading on his brow. He hadn’t been lying about the wrestlers’ training regimen; cardio exercise was the bane of strongmen everywhere. It took a lot of effort to get all that meat moving, after all. At the forty-second mark, Beowulf’s jog devolved into a drunken stagger, with one hand on his aching stomach and the other reaching out at Nadia’s back as the darkness began to close in. “Fuh…fuh…Fortune-!”
“What’s the matter, cardi-oaf?” Nadia called back over her shoulder. “Can’t keep pup?”
“Guuuh!” Beowulf dropped to his knees, then fell face-down in front of a bench on the sidewalk, his eyes practically swirls.
Rolling her own eyes, Nadia turned around and jogged toward him. “That was fast.” She came to a stop over the wrestler’s fallen form, her nonplussed gaze on a young passer-by with wine-red hair, gawking at them from beneath his parasol as he walked nearby. “What? Does his sufferin’ a-mew-se you?” Once the kid silently moved on, Nadia crouched down and tapped her chest. A bright pink heart, especially radiant in the dull, rainy morning, popped out. “Here ya are, buddy. Somethin’ new to wrestle with: your own existence.”
The instant the heart touched him, Beowulf sprang to his feet so fast he accidentally headbutted Nadia on the way up, which bowled her over backward with a surprised yowl. “Whoa! I’m up! Second wind, ready for round two! Hell yeah!” He flexed, then looked down at the feral. “Oh, jeez, sorry Fortune. You okay?”
As Beowulf helped her up, Nadia massaged her nose ruefully. “Meowch, you got me good! I’ll be fine though. Nothing a little infinite regeneration can’t fix.” While recovering, she furrowed her brow and fixed a questioning gaze on Beowulf. Sure enough, his eyes were pitch-black, without a trace of sunset red…so why wasn’t he having an existential crisis? “What about you? Nothin’...goin’ on upstairs?” As she said it, Nadia began to have an epiphany.
“Uh, no?” Beowulf raised an eyebrow. “Should there be?”
Nadia shrugged. “Guess not, heehee!” She clapped a hand around his shoulder. “Well, congrats buddy, you passed with flyin’ colors. Welcome to the big leagues! Now buckle up, I’ll explain on the way to the Pools. We got a lotta ground to cover, and not much time.” The two got moving, discussing the Seekers’ mission in Esaka and what Beowulf could do to improve his chances while they got a move on toward their first matches of the day.
While the Koopa Kids weren’t directly involved with the Seekers’ tournament mission in Esaka, they had plenty of stories to share about what they’d gotten up to during the team’s previous outing. Band’s knowledge about the Underground was sparse, aware of precious little beyond the region’s subterranean nature, as its name implied. Bowser Jr and Rika’s account of the place they called Pizza Tower amused him greatly. It hadn’t been all fun and games, of course, but just the idea of a building wholeheartedly dedicated to pizza -all the way down to the enemies- just tickled his funnybone.
In contrast, Band had mostly found himself in various cities so far. Sandstone desert city, dystopian megacity, snowy magic city, tiered tournament city, medieval town…they encompassed different cultures, sure, but at the end of the day it had been a lot of streets, sidewalks, cars, buildings, and people. The strangest place he’d been so far had probably been Nyakuza Metro, that totally cat-themed metropolis stuffed inside a gigantic pumpkin. When would the one-man band actually go somewhere completely surreal?
When their tale shifted toward Ash Lake, Band raised an eyebrow slightly as he put his critical thinking skills to good use. “Now, I know I wasn’t there, but maybe…those weapons belonged to that Asgore guy you mentioned?” Primrose seemed to think the same, although her mention of ‘memorials’ lent extra weight to the weapons’ importance than mere possession. Regardless, P sounded like a real piece of work, as well. More interesting, of course, were the facts that the Flame Clocks seemed downright invincible, that certain symbols betrayed key cycle functionality, and that the Seekers’ first clues about this world’s true nature came from this Asgore. He definitely sounded like someone Band would want to meet, if not interrogate. No offense to these kids or their dad, but if a detective with actual information-gathering skills had been on the case back then, the Seekers might have left Ash Lake with a lot more intel than they did.
A city where it always rained sounded pretty abysmal to Big Band. Almost as bad as the Consuls’ ability to wantonly manipulate the gleaming masses. The cyborg was fully aware of just how precarious the team’s position in Esaka really was, and he wasn’t the least bit happy about it. The fact that anyone and everyone around them, from random civilians to precious friends like Ileum and Stanley, could be turned against them at the drop of a hat, meant the Seekers were in constant and extreme danger. They could not afford to get any Consul’s attention whatsoever, which made that accidental meeting with Consul B yesterday that much more of a disaster. Even if she did essentially tell Harry that people like him were beneath her notice, that could change the moment they made themselves any kind of threat.
After a little more thinking, and slapping Therion’s hand away from his plate, Band came to a decision. “The kid’s right. As long as Moebius rules Esaka, we could get royally screwed over any day now. It’s just too big a risk to ignore and hope for the best. Much as I hate to say it, we gotta put together some kind of plan.” He lowered his voice as he looked around furtively. “...To take that Consul out.”
This wasn’t the time or the place to assemble such a plan, however, not with many teammates missing and more tournament matches looming. Instead, Band ruminated on what Primrose had gleaned from the UN the night before. Better access to medical help would be valuable indeed in Esaka, and though Primrose described the process of ‘key-tuning’ chiefly through metaphor, that sounded like it could be useful too. Band nodded. “Happy to have any allies in this place, even if Moebius could turn ‘em against us, so I’m game. We just gotta be sure not to get too close.”
As if on cue, a bright blue magic circle appeared next to Primrose’s head. As she’d learned last night, this was a manifestation of the ‘phone magic’ that she learned from Kum Haehyun last night. For some of the Seekers here -namely Big Band and Roland- this was actually something they’d seen before thanks to one Goldlewis Dickinson, who’d made ample use of this everyday spell in both Midgar and Al Mamoon, the latter of which had been where the Secretary of Absolute Defense briefly crossed paths with Big Band. When Primrose took the call, it was none other than her newest mentor that greeted her.
“This is Haehyun,” said the deep, gravelly voice of Jonryoku. “We have a new mission for your cohort, should you choose to accept it. For some time now, an organization based in the Middle Tier, the Mugen Group, has been attempting to organize an alternative, more lighthearted sporting event to Esaka’s tournament series. The Power Stone Games. Prioritizing casual fun, they have not enjoyed much success, but the UN has decided to back them. Our main push for the Games starts this morning, and the Four Kings -suspicious of our involvement- will have people watching. Making it the perfect diversion. If you can field some people to participate, it will lend greater credence to the Power Stone Games and improve our diversion even further.”
Band eyed Primrose, Therion, and the Koopa Kids immediately. Their lack of involvement with the tournaments made them the ideal candidates, though Seekers with lighter schedules like Yayama might be able to get involved too. Unfortunately, his schedule was anything but light, and he was running out of time. Band carefully pushed his chairs back from the table and stood up. “I gotta get goin’ if I’m gonna make my first match. Good luck out there, y’all.”
With a tip of his hat, the detective was on his way. A quick visit to a bulletin board informed him that his first match of today would be against one Potemkin. Alright, let’s do this. He set his sights on the nearest lift and began his trip to the Pools.
Those who accepted the UN’s mission to participate in the Power Stone Games would eventually find their way to what looked like a theme park on the Middle Tier’s east side. The colorful complex included a plaza overlooking the Pools, a miniature desert, a jungle temple, and opposing submarines, among others. Some citizens had already begun to gather by the time the Seekers arrived, drawn by the prospect of something new and entertaining. For such a big-time affair, though, the Mugen Group only seemed to have a dozen participants lined up, even if they did hail from all walks of life. With a little time left before the games got started, the Seekers had a little time to walk around the Power Stone Park, meet the people involved, and maybe even learn what exactly they needed to do.
All things considered, this wasn’t exactly the most tense shootout Sandalphon had experienced. Between the plentiful cover on the Grand Archives’ second story and the travel time of the Crystal Stage’s magic arrows, relative safety wasn’t hard to come by. The real problem was actually making progress on her goal of getting out of here. She could only hide behind the bookshelves, overturned tables, and piles of ruined books if she could scramble across the open spaces that separated them, after all, and the Petrification Disease made any kind of rapid movement painfully difficult. Plus, there were still handfuls of wax-headed scholars here and there, whether roving around or huddled together. While her experiment earlier had confirmed that they’d ignore her at first thanks to her own dunk in the wax pool, they could still get in her way, and she didn’t want to push her luck.
Plus, the Crystal Sage had an infuriating tendency to teleport all around the third story of the Archives. Combine that with its huge hat and flowing garments that made it hard to get a bead on its actual body, and counter-sniping was a real challenge, even for a marksman of Sandalphon’s caliber. Plus, with such a height disadvantage she couldn’t use her other abilities like Frost Lock or Cerulean Mirage. She had no choice but to do this the old-fashioned way: lay down suppressive fire, stagger across the open area, and hunker down, over and over and over again as she endeavored to reach the next flight of stairs.
It was a grueling task, but simple enough that the archangel could press forward bit by bit, bearing the pain of ducking into cover in silence. Sometimes a crystal soul arrow would crash against the bookshelf mere inches from her body, and more than one the sudden emergence of ghostly, clawing hands from a cursed tome elicited a gasp of surprise. It felt like hours, but after a few minutes, Sandalphon finally neared the base of the staircase along the Grand Archives’ western wall. The climb would hurt, but once she reached the top, she and her nemesis would be on an even playing field at last.
Of course, the second she set foot on the bottom step was when the Crystal Sage showed its face. In a burst of billowing black cloth the sorcerer seemingly unfurled from the ground, its crystal ball aglow between shriveled, clawed hands. Sandalphon had only a split second to admire the sheer breadth of the Sage’s big hat as she took aim. The magic ray from her hexagun slammed into the Sage’s shoulder, a direct hit but not enough to put it down. Odds were that this undead sorcerer resisted magic, the archangel guessed. Then she turned around to hightail it back to her previous hiding place, only for purple crystals five feet in height to spring from the ground in front of her, fast and strong enough that one knocked her rifle from her nerveless grasp.
Sandalphon’s pupil flashed between symbols as she considered her options, her mind much faster than her body. As the purple light of a crystal arrow behind her reflected off the crystals in front, though, she finally got moving. She maneuvered around a freshly-grown spire, hiding behind it just in time as the soul arrow struck the crystal instead and shattered it like glass. Thinking quickly, Sandalphon extended her left hand toward her gun as she stepped toward her next shelter. Her ergo strings stretched through the air and wound around the weapon, but the impact of another soul arrow inches away from the archangel’s head ruined her focus and the ergo strings faded. Her one-eyed gaze flickered toward the Crystal Sage as it prepared to cast again. This was bad.
A blossom of flame struck the sorcerer from behind, igniting its hat and robes. Sandalphon’s eyebrow rose as her pupil became an exclamation mark–a surprise assist? Whatever it was, the Crystal Sage was having none of it. Rather than expose itself to attack from either party, it fled the pincer maneuver by teleporting away. A moment later, the culprit showed herself: the periwinkle cat from before, with just a blob of wax on her head. Somehow, it didn’t surprise Sandalphon that a feline could cast magic. Unless she could do a lot more than throw fireballs, however, she’d be in just as much danger from the Crystal Sage as Sandalphon herself. The archangel grabbed her rifle and hurried up the stairs as fast as her aching body could take her.
When she reached the top, she found that the cat had retreated somewhat, clearly wary of Sandalphon even if she didn't consider the ailing archangel an enemy. Nevertheless, Sandalphon attempted to communicate, hoping her tone would convey her good intentions even if her words fell short. “My thanks for your assistance,” she said, her voice soothing. “You’re a very good kitty. With evident skill in the arcane arts.”
Just when she seemed to be getting somewhere, though, the Crystal Sage made its move. Again it warped in, unfurling from the floor itself, and this time it wasn’t alone. A Crystal Sage appeared on either side of the Sandalphon, one blocking the exit door and another the stairs she’d just climbed. Was this an illusion of some kind, or were there really two of them? No time to make sure. As Lucy began to concentrate, the archangel summoned her strikers Annabella and Hammering. The hammer-wielding redhead charged at one for a mighty swing, while the black-haired sniper lobbed a canister at the other. Sandalphon took aim and fired to shoot the canister out of the sky, detonating it in one Crystal Sage’s face.
As it reeled, she turned to see the other get clobbered by Hammering, then hurled a Frost Lock to freeze the Sage solid. From there, a few shots plugged into its torso sent it sliding back until it tumbled down the stairs. It quickly racked up so much damage that when it thawed, it basically exploded.
Finally, the other Sage recovered just in time for Lucy’s fireblast to add insult to injury. Nevertheless, it raised its radiant blue crystal ball to fire a soul arrow, only for the death of the true Crystal Sorcerer to cause the illusion to fade into nothingness.
Once her scans convinced her the threat had been dealt with, Sandalphon put away her hexagun. When she knelt to collect the Crystal Sage’s spirit, Lucy rubbed up against her boot affectionately. “Good kitty,” the archangel repeated. Then she rose, her stiff and gritty joints afire, and made for the double doors. Freedom at last, at least from the Grand Archives. With a little help from Lucy, she pushed them open to reveal the Cursed Armory, positively glittering with the loot of a hundred worlds. She took one look around at the smorgasbord of enchanted equipment, pursed her lips, and stepped inside with Lucy at her heels.
Ace and Heismay’s long climb back to the top of the cistern wasn’t much fun, but at least the shadows seemed to have run out of horrors to throw the pair’s way for now. With the ritualistic altars at the bottom of the shanty town destroyed, and their twisted creator dealt with, the damp air in here felt a little less heavy and haunted. With the eugief’s natural agility and the hunter’s boundless energy (not to mention his slinger) they made relatively short work of what would have otherwise been an arduous and treacherous ascent, falling afoul of only a few rotten planks as they retraced their steps up the waterlogged towers.
Heismay only made two brief stops. First, he paused at the threshold of the house where he and Ace encountered that painted monstrosity. Although slimy and abhorrent as most of the wretches down here, Toxic Fred fit this place less and less the more Heismay thought about it. When he peeked inside, he found the colorful lumpy splotch they’d reduced Fred to exactly where they left it, without any signs of life or clues as to what it might have been. Yet, Heismay still felt as if he was missing something. A lingering unease perturbed him, as if the job wasn’t quite done. What exactly had slipped his mind…?
Something worse than nebulous doubts awaited the two once they crossed the broken bridge caused by their first run-in with the Forgotten. When Heismay checked in on Elowen’s hovel, an uneasy feeling in his gut borne of the inhuman noises he heard from within, he found a cursed wretch instead, moaning as she clawed at what must have been her head. A potent mix of red and purple power eked from her disfigured form. The Seekers had a brief window in which to act before the aberration noticed them, and though Heismay disdained assassin work, his skillset made him suitable for the task. He stalked forward, quiet as the grave, and put the sunken thing out of her misery with a single well-placed stroke.
Upon exiting the hut, he stowed his blade with a sigh. “Poor woman. I suppose the ‘blackness’ caught up with her? We would do well to guard ourselves against any traces of corruption.” He didn’t feel any different, personally, but malignant forces could be insidious. There was no telling how the pair’s brush with extreme occultism had scarred them. Heismay crushed Elowen’s spirit (which depicted the creature she had become) just to make sure, which rewarded him with an odd artifact that he carefully slipped into his bag. Maybe someone else would know what to make of it.
Guts A Mutator that can be affixed to a melee weapon to increase its critical chance. Refinement in the hands of a skilled craftsman can increase this bonus, and at ten levels of refinement, the Mutator also boosts critical damage according to the wielder’s own recoverable life
Once they reached the top, the Seekers approached a set of double doors. Heismay couldn’t remember if this had been the doorway he and Ace came through, or the one opposite, but in the end it didn’t really matter. The two gathered their strength and shoved open the doors together.
School of Mensis
As one might have expected, if not hoped, Winterhold College had plenty more horrors in store. Before the two lay a single long, gloomy room, shaped not unlike a massive coffin, with auditorium-style rows of seats arranged along the walls. In every chair slumped a naked, desiccated corpse with a tall, octagonal cage upon its head and a small stick in its hand, each tipped with a cluster of bristles on one side. A handful of oil lamps and candelabras provided just enough illumination for Heismay to see much more of the ghastly, fleshless faces than he wanted to. At the far end of the room, a solitary cadaver sat in a position of prominence, bearing scholarly robes and a much taller cage. This room was dry compared to the Forgotten Commune, at least, but its resemblance to a communal tomb left Heismay no more at ease than the curse-rotted shantytown.
This chamber did have one familiar element, though. A large hellhound lay curled up on the floor, its flame pleasantly warm in the drafty tomb. Its saddle featured one of the many weapons belonging to Edward Portsmith, although there was no sign of the Dreadnought himself. When the Seekers entered, the hellhound raised its head, its burning sockets searching for its master. “Oh,” Heismay remarked. “Were Portsmith’s beasts scattered throughout Winterhold, as well?”
The hellhound offered no response, so Heismay gave the room another look. At first glance it seemed like a dead end, but if the Commune was any indicator, who knew what secrets this place might be hiding?
Location: Esaka's High Tier, Forbidden Kingdom (Friday Morning) Word Count: 1991 (+3 exp)
There was no conspicuous canine present to signal the start of a match at the abandoned ring this time, nor was there any dramatic flash of lightning or anything of the sort. Just the drizzle of rain, Pit, and Grima. They didn’t actually need a count down though, as this was not an official tourney bout. In fact, if the angel standing on one side of the ring had anything to say about it… this would be a swift, one-sided beat down to free his fellow Smasher’s body. The quicker, the better.
Without further warning beyond his quip, Pit pulled his bow up and his arm back, creating an ethereal string to draw on. During the motion a glint of blue light traced his hand and formed a line with an arrowhead at the front. Then the light arrow shimmered, its color changing to soft gold. Finally, Pit met Grima’s eyes with a cheeky grin. Before releasing the arrow he jumped, wings pulling him into a showy backflip and keeping him airborne - and then one light arrow peeled apart into three as they sped towards the dragon’s vessel.
Grima herself didn’t utilize any flashy moments. Instead, she simply raised her hand, several magical glyphs forming around her open palm before rapidly expanding to create a shield that intercepted the three arrows coming for her. And as soon as the third one slammed into her shield, the vessel dismissed the shield and brought her hand close to her chest, a mass of dark energy forming around it. Then she swung her hand out, sending out an orb of darkness that launched itself towards Pit.
It seemed that the angel had anticipated something like that, as he didn't appear surprised as he nimbly dodged the magic and fluidly drew his bow again. The combination of spell and sword was definitely familiar to him, but if there truly was no trace of Robin in Grima then she wouldn't be expecting the light arrow's special trait.
"Now try these!" he said, firing another volley. This time they were one at a time, in three different colors: blue, gold, and purple. The purple arrow crackled with visible static as it flew straight forward - and through, if it wasn't intercepted, able to pass right through physical objects. The blue and gold seemed to follow the same course, but before landing they both suddenly changed direction. They curved up and around Grima, the blue slightly faster and gold imbued with elemental light, attempting to strike Grima from opposite sides.
“Again?” the vessel commented with a roll of her eyes, this time her hand gathering more shadows before a trio of black bolts shot out to intercept the arrows. The first one collided with the purple arrow without problem. The other two however swerved past Grima’s magic, giving the fell vessel just enough time to register her miss before they slammed into her from both the front and the back, eliciting a shocked gasp of pain as she staggered in place, “You- How-” Grima began, only to cut herself off with a growl, reaching her hand out towards Pit. And on the nearest wall to him, a shimmering circle of black magic rapidly formed, and when Grima clenched her hand into a fist and yanked it back towards her, a series of spikes erupted, trying to catch Pit before he could dodge away.
The ol' curving arrow trick never failed in both catching their targets off guard and leaving Pit with a smug look on his face afterward. Pit snickered, already nocking another to chase the Fell Dragon down when he heard more than saw her latest magic. He turned to look over his shoulder as the spikes burst into existence, then twisted out of range - of the first couple. Now with his back to Grima, Pit's bow was thrust out in front of him to block one of the spikes aimed at his center. It pushed him back while the rest in the series cut against his bracer, elbow, and the tip of one wing as he pulled it out of the way.
Okay, not as one-sided as I thought! he thought to himself with a wince, tucking both of his wings in against back as the spell ended and he spun around towards Grima once more. His movement didn't stop at just that, one of the bladed bow's pointed ends aimed at the white haired woman in a mid-ranged, spiral stab.
With a slight twirl of her blade, Grima stepped into Pit’s attack, her sword clanging with Pit’s bladed bow and parrying the blow, letting Pit fly by her as she pivoted. It didn’t take long afterwards for Grima to use the momentum from her parry to spin and slash at Pit’s midsection. Regardless of if he dodged, blocked, or was hit by the strike, she would then leap into the air and attempt to use gravity to plunge her sword down. Non-lethally, yes, but it would still hurt like hell.
He'd ended up meeting her weapon with his own, his free hand supporting the flat of his blade to strengthen the block and hold his position. Which ended up with him still in place when Grima came down sword first, but the angel didn't look worried as he followed her with his eyes. There was another crackle of violet static, this time at his feet, and he zipped backward suddenly as the space he was in burst in an electric shock wave. It wasn't strong enough to send anyone flying, but damage was damage. And Pit was ready to start piling it on.
"One more time!" he called, practically giving Grima a heads up as he drew the bow again. Another round of arrows snaked towards her, all blue this time, twisting before going to strike just as before. Only one flew straight, the final one fired of the group, which featured two small orbs of flame that circled the arrow head as it shot forward.
This time Grima was prepared, narrowing her eyes slightly as she calculated the trajectory of the various arrows before whirling around, her blade singing through the air as it managed to intercept and parry each of the blue arrows. The one that held the two orbs of flame however, Grima was forced to conjure another shield, barely getting it up before the arrow slammed into her defenses.
The fire balls burst against the shield, thwarted from the explosion that would have triggered if the fire had collided with the electricity that still clung to her form. Pit was only a little disappointed that that plan hadn't worked out. He still had a whole heavenly host of stuff up his sleeve to try after all, and if Grima learned to handle the arrows this quickly then he'd just have to try something else.
He did fire two more arrows though, one slightly slower but stronger as he charged the shot first. While they sailed toward Grima, Pit himself followed after them. If she expected them to curve then she would have guessed wrong this time, as they both went right for her to break either against her magic or her vessel while Pit lashed out with a spin of the bow, making a sharp pinwheel that would continuously cut up whatever it came in contact with.
Grima’s response to the incoming arrows was to simply cast another shield, this one covering her back for a moment in anticipation for the arrows curving around her. When they didn’t, she was barely able to react, batting aside one arrow before the other slammed into her shoulder. The vessel didn’t react with anything more than an annoyed grunt however as she brought her sword up to block the spinning pinwheel that was Pit’s bow, a flurry of sparks erupting as the two weapons clashed.
The clash itself was but one of the reasons why Grima was currently frowning. That, and she was now focused on the fight. She had no intention on killing the angel before her, despite her reservations, but it was clear that they were demanding all of what Grima could offer.
And more, as she'd soon find out. Since Pit couldn't break through with his bow, it was time to pull something else out of his arsenal. With one final clang! he drew his blade back, breaking their stalemate. Without giving Grima any time to reposition he let go of the bow with one hand and swung it at her underhand with the one arm, but during the motion there was a glimmer of light - brief and easily missed. Suddenly the blue and gold weapon had been replaced by an entirely new one, a blur of gold and red and black. Pit grinned at her as the quick-summoned Upperdash Arm was on track to smash right through Grima's defense and deliver the uppercut of a lifetime.
“You wre-” was all Grima could say before the Upperdash Arm smashed directly into her face. Time itself seemed to pause, lingering on the devastating hit, before Grima was sent flying directly into a wall, collapsing to her knees and barely able to stay upright thanks to planting her sword into the ground and catching herself on its hilt, one hand holding onto it while the other covered her face, “Cretin, gah… THIS is your idea of ‘initiation’?”
"Just the first part of it," Pit replied, staying where he was in the ring and letting the Arm weapon dissolve back into light. The bow was back in his hand as though nothing had happened. He looked Grima over, assessing something she was not privy to. Then, in a way he thought was helpful but probably just came off as condescending, he said, "don't worry, you're doing good! It's even kinda fun!"
“Oh, this is fun for you, is that it?” Grima asked rhetorically, pushing herself up to her feet, “Fine, I’ll show you something to enjoy. Make sure your tagalong is watching closely.” with that, the Fell Vessel raised her hand into the air, a sudden spark of massive magic forming around her: A telltale sign of her signature Expiration.
The change in the air was stark, the atmosphere turning heavy and baleful. Pit's eyes widened as the spell grew, just the feel of it making his nerves tingle from the tips of his fingers to the edges of his feathers. It was evil energy, plain and simple. Or maybe not so simple, as the shadows began to twist, forming a dangerous looking shape. For a moment, the angel started to second guess his decision.
Pit.
He snapped out of it at the sound of the goddess' voice. I know - I started this so there's no backing out now!
Even if he wanted to call it off, the fact that Grima was gleaming was the whole point of their fight. She wouldn't be able to stop until one of them was soundly defeated. And it wasn't going to be Pit! He was going to wipe Galeem from Grima's mind and get her on board, Robin or no Robin!
Let's hope this works, otherwise you're in for some morning dragon slaying!
The angel shot forward toward Grima, intent to reach her before her spell was completed. He didn't raise his bow; instead Pit pressed his empty hand to his chest as he ran, withdrawing a pink, cartoonish heart from it. It glowed softly, a sharp contrast to the dark silhouette of head and horns that grew clearer by the second. Pit raised the heart up and threw it the rest of the way. The warm heart sunk into Grima when it hit her and burst to heal her wounds and cleanse her of all foreign influence. Pit skidded to a halt after the pitch, tense as he made sure the heart worked well enough to disrupt the Fell Dragon's spell concentration.
Level 8 Roland (11/80) - Holding 1 level up. Location: Eseka Word Count: 954
As time went on and everyone shared their stores and ate their food, eventually the day had to start and Roland had a match to get to. As Roland approached the match site, he heard rumblings from the various yokai about how Roland was about to fight 'the tier robber', or 'the fake top tier', or 'the cheater'. Apparently he wasn't very well liked by these fighting efficinatos, and since Roland heard about him being a one shot wonder, maybe that was part of it?
Once he got to the arena, he learned the name of the guy he was fighting. Schuvaltz Katze, a mostly unassuming guy in another whacky outfit but this being more... District M or T based? Regardless looking him over all Roland saw for a weapon on him was a simple pistol. This was the tier robber? A oneshot wonder? He wouldn't last more than a few minutes in the city against competent opponents if he relied on his firearm! But maybe that old looking gun fired black holes or something weird so Roland kept himself on guard.
As the round started, Katze seemed to do some sort of... taunt? Introduction? for his first move. Either from cockiness or for honor Roland didn't know, but knowing what he did, it was probably the former. Well, regardless for Roland he rolled the floor of philosophy, almost apropos for what was going on with his opponent's introduction. Once he was done with Roland drawing his sword from wheels industry, Katze fired a marksman shot at Roland's head, of which Roland deflected without much issue with his massive sword. Seeing this, Ktaze let out a couple more shots in a combo with Roland deflecting the bullets before finding an opening and rushing in to smash him with it, causing him to move in a sluggish motion as his body was... not looking good. But even in close range, he was skilled with that gun and fired another shot which, if Roland didn't have his passive ability to counter after attacking once, would've been a headshot. But Roland did, and with a swift counter and a second hit, Katze was down with Roland... winning round 1?
Soon Round 2 started, with both fighters being set back to their default positions and Katze reloading his gun. Having only done a single clash, Roland was only at emotion level one, getting Big Eyes and while the fight was starting, a storycard appeared displayed to everyone watching the fight ant Katze telling the story of three birds that lived in the Black Forest, then how Big Bird and his many eyes kept watch of the forest, the words of Big Bird echoing from Roland "The bright light is trapped.". Although Roland would find that there was no chance for him to get to emotion level 5 in this kind of fight as the fight started with Katze, slightly unnerved by seeing a drawn story frame enter his brain, unloaded a 3 shot combo on Roland. Roland retaliating with his hammer, deflecting one shot but finding trying to 'block' these bullets did nothing, getting hit by the second shot. He would learn very quickly why Katze was the one shot king however, as one shot was all he needed to end round 2 with his win and start round 3 to Roland's confusion, but also Roland's attention.
"So thats how it works..." Roland thought to himself, noting he would need to make sure a single bullet didn't even graze him. As round 3 started with Katze reloading again, Roland didn't waste any time closing the gap with his lance. Katze didn't have enough time to get his gun ready, instead deflecting the first lance hit but not the second side swipe with it, damaging his legs and causing him to fall down on his butt. Roland then kept himself on guard, ready for a retaliation and waited... and waited... and... waited... and nothing happened. Katze just held his injured leg, his gun dropped and off to his side. What... was going on here? Was this a trick or...? Roland approached him, getting Emotion level 2 and Small Flutters, the chirpy voice of small bird saying "My flutters might be what it takes to change the world!" as Roland struck Katze with his dagger putting an end to the round.
Round 4 then started, Katze starting with backflips to make more distance to shoot Roland. Roland decided to use this time to surprise Katze with his own set of guns, finding that his backflips let him dodge bullets and making all of Roland's shots miss. But Roland knew of his gunplay now, and followed it up with his two handed sword, making sure to focus on deflecting the shots coming his way. Katze wasn't messing around now, making sure he kept distance from Roland with his fast invincible backflips and using his pistol to parry Roland's sword strikes whenever he got close to make more distance. However Roland countered him by deflecting or thanks to small flutters and his slow start having ended, dodging the bullets with side steps. After 10 shots... the fight was over. Once Katze heard the 'click click' of his empty gun... he knew it was over. But he wouldn't let his watching opponents that was his true weakness, and continued to parry Roland until he backflipped off the stage on purpose in an 'attempt' to get distance.
The screen then announced "Roland is the winner!" with many of the observing Yokai actually cheering for him, with cries of "You beat the cheater!" "I told you he was weak!" "Wait, you can deflect the bullets? Why didn't anyone else think of this?"
Level 7: 24/70 Location: Esaka -> The Power Games Word Count: short Points Gained: 1 New EXP Balance: Level 7: 25/70
Invisibility was intoxicating. After landing back down in the outskirts of Esaka, Juri had been on the fringe of just about everyone’s life. A rooftop, a dark alley. A small amount of distance between her and her target, and she was invisible. Sombra’s cloak was some fancy tech. Nothing could detect her.
For a while, she lay on the roof of a closed bar and stared up at the sky. With no eyes on her, she was free to do as she pleased. She could let her face go blank. Then she started people watching. Noticing all their stupid little flaws. The things they thought they could get away with when no one was watching. Their blank-eyed stares. More than anything Galeem could give them.
Juri dropped down on some schmucks who strayed too far from the pack. Galeem’s Curse made them give her the fight she was looking for. They couldn’t back down, couldn’t de-escalate, wouldn’t hold back. It was fun to beat the tar out of them. She could dust them, and no one would care. But she decided to leave them alive so they would remember her beating. Of course, she only went after weak people. Picking on someone her own size would attract undo attention. There would be plenty of time for some full courses later.
In the end, the Seekers broadcasted their meeting point and Juri decided to stalk them. She even saw that idiot Fortune doing the same thing. It almost made her laugh, but that would have blown her cover. She spent the night crashing, well, who cares where. When you didn’t care about the law, or comfort, or actually getting any sleep, it was easy to find a place to bed down.
In the morning, they met up in some crummy restaurant and Juri listened in from across the place. She turned off her invisibility and was just sat with her back against a bench wall. At the very least, the Seekers started speaking her language. Juri would love to see another Consul die. After killing Consul O, dusting Gleaming idiots felt like second-rate action in comparison. (Not that it was bad, or anything…)
Juri would already be at the Power Stone Games before any of the Seekers who decided to show up made their way there.
She appeared basically out of nowhere in the middle of the Power Games Plaza. ”The Power Stone Games, huh?” Juri sneered. ”Is that name trying to hide the fact that it’s a frickin’ kiddie pool tournament?” She set a hand on her hip. When she looked over the dozen or so contestants, she snickered.
”Whose in charge of this playground?” Juri asked, looking around. She went over to a nearby potted plant and started wobbling it with her foot, threatening to knock it over.
Sakura Level 11: 044/110 Location: Hospital - > Pools Word Count: short Points Gained: 1 New EXP Balance--- Level 11: 045/110
–
Sakura stepped out of the Ki-Tuning room, and shuddered. That was…unpleasant. At the same time, though, as the sensations of the process faded, new ones began to come in. She felt good! Like it wasn’t even possible for her to catch a cold.
No more time to waste, then. She should get to the other Seekers as fast as possible.
As she was about to head out, or rather, head to the nearest place to grab breakfast, she spotted an older doctor with frizzy white hair and a big mustache struggling to carry one big too many. Before things could get too catastrophic, Sakura swooped in and took the top two boxes of papers and equipment from him. The doctor cleared her throat a few times and nodded, before jerking his head for Sakura to follow him. She ended up following him to one of those places in a hospital regular people like her aren’t usually allowed to go.
Apparently, the doctor noted Sakura’s strength, and when they got to the storage room, he pointed out where to drop off some boxes and then loaded her up with a few more. ”Uh, wait-” Sakura began, but she was already holding three plastic boxes.
”I can’t really-” She tried to explain. The doctor bent down to pick something up, and then clutched his back in agony. Moaning and groaning, he writhed around the room. Something about this performance struck Sakura as deceptive, or at least exaggerated.
”Alright, fine, geez!” Sakura said. The doctor, his pain apparently subsiding, stoop up and nodded, before indicating Sakura should follow him. She ended up doing chores around the place all morning, and in the end, all she got out of it was a lollipop. And maybe some work experience. In another life, she might be able to put something like this on her resume. In the end, she really had to go! So she sped off to her pool matches.
Words: 1,995 (+3) Edward Portsmith: Level 9 (22 cells) (2 level ups stored) ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// (34/90) Location Frozen highlands - The Midnight Walk
Edward sent his copper golem squad into the drawing room first, the monocular spear wielders marching in lockstep and rattling in an attention grabbing manner. Edward himself meanwhile slinked in behind them and took cover behind a small cabinet, pistol at the ready, hoping that whatever the unseen source of the banging was would be drawn to his bait instead of him.
As it turned out however, it went for neither, and instead kept slamming against the wall.
”How odd” Edward commented to his somnadrix (or really, to himself) as the impossible creature awkwardly navigated its antlers through the too narrow doorframe (leaving frost where it scarped against them).
As for what was odd, well, Edward didn’t say at once, but instead tested his hypothesis with a rap of a knuckle against the wall he was crouched beside, which produced a more solid sound than the one produced by the specter.
”That wall must be hollow. Perhaps it's behind it, trying to escape? Or does it want to get in?” he speculated as he sent the copper golems forwards to investigate.
Once more, there was no reaction from the wall slammer that continued to do its thing. That was until he made the golems deliver a probing stab at the wall to test its resilience, at which point two things happened. First, the wall collapsed. Second, the banging stopped.
What was revealed behind it was no source of the noise, but instead a hidden room in a state of neglectful disrepair, with peeling wallpaper and moldy boards. As the golems entered to inspect they discovered piles of discarded paintings, all picturing a woman with black hair, her features marred by painted burn marks that are never quite the same between any two portraits. At the center of the room was an easel with one more, heavily disfigured portrait, and at its base was a lump of flesh on a painter's palette.
Upon being picked up, the flesh wiggled slightly in the golem’s hand, which also dimly registered it as being warm to the touch.
”Necromancy. Of course” Edward commented, most of the trepidation he had felt now discarded. Those who wielded death itself were rather common on the worlds of the astral sea after all, and he had put down plenty.
”If it was an escape attempt, I can see why the lost soul wanted out” he said as he examined the room, before looking at the lump and asking it ”or did it want into you?”
The flesh, naturally, did not answer.
Edward had it placed back onto the palette and then had said palette moved onto the top of a dresser in the drawing room, just in case it was in some way important to solving the conundrum of the maze.
He then regarded the painting in person and speculated ”And as for these? Some… attempt at cursing, perhaps? A venting of anger? An inching closer and closer to the truth?” but finding no answer particularly satisfying. Nor did a closer inspection of the painting reveal any hidden notes, or even a signature, on the back.
It did however confirm that a rather grizzly pigment had been used to create the painting. Despite this making Edward lean more towards his theory of it being a work of the occult, he could sense no magic in its makeup.
In between making these inspections, and indeed throughout his entire exploration of the room, Edward took the time to make notes, which included a small sketch of the woman in all the paintings, sans the various scars. He was no artist, but he’d done enough technical drawings that he could copy and combine what he saw well enough.
It was only then that the back of his mind brought something up that he had been considering since the copper golems matched away: hadn’t there been a set of footsteps out of sync with the rest?
He turned with a start in response to this, or, rather, he and the golems both turned, and together they found an assortment of books stacked into the shape of a person had appeared right behind the constructs. Edward started back once more, going for his gun, while the golems lowered their spears. Before either could react any further, however, the book sculpture exploded, pelting the Dreadnaught and his constructs with a barrage of literature.
Fortunately, this barrage was mostly harmless, and, indeed, the only things that really suffered were some of the books, which got impaled on the lowered speartips.
”What a waste” Edward said with a shake of the head, pistol going back to its holster. He seemed, indeed, not that taken aback now that the surprise was over. This pattern continued when, upon reentering the main drawing room, he reacted to catching a glimpse of a baby doll running into a cupboard with a simple sigh.
The man, having clearly already had quite enough of this, turned and addressed the lump of flesh (and whatever specter was haunting it) with a slightly disappointed tone, saying ”I’d appreciate it if you cease your meddling, spirit. It's quite rude to do, given that I’ve already aided you in reuniting with your… flesh”
He let the request hang for a moment, and then when nothing else occurred, nodded his head and continued his investigation
With the spirit seemingly quelled, and the hidden room containing nothing but mysteries, Edward focused that investigation on the rest of the drawing room. The most notable things in it were the three large drawings of a cavalier, a dragon and a pegasus knight all of which were mounted on a singular wall, as their presence dominated the rest of the smaller, more scattered, sketches found throughout the rest of the room.
Acting on a hunch, he had the golems tap along this wall as well, and found that it too was hollow. It did not, however, prove breakable. A spear stab did nothing, nor did Edward shooting the wall with his pistol, which should have at least left a dent.
”Magic, then. I wonder what the key to unlocking seal is?” He wondered, before examining the wall mounted drawings again and speculating ”Gaurdiens that must be slain, perhaps? Or iconography that must be recovered?”
Certainly, they seemed to be the key, as Edward’s second hunch of completing or emulating the drawing of the seated gentlemen amounted to nothing.
”I believe that is all” he said to the Somandrix where it had curled up in a corner, before telling the spirit of the flesh to ”behave” and then returning to the archmage’s quarters. His impossible creature followed him in, while the iron golems continued to hold the door open, locking down the connection between the two chambers.
As he entered, he asked the resident painter who, hopefully, had zero relation to the hidden collection of grizzly imagery, ”How are you faring?”
When Fred turned to him, the painter seemed to have brightened up somewhat, with an optimistic shine to his eyes and a newfound sense of energy, however slight. “Oh! I can tell that you…or maybe a friend of yours? Got rid of one of them already. Thank you.” He still appeared to be very unsettled, very nerve-wracked, but even a little relief seemed to go a long way. Fred blinked a few times. “I should give you something to help you take care of these... things, right? Let me see…” He reached into a pocket in the back of his apron and after a few seconds produced three small bottles of amber liquid that resembled honey, albeit without the viscosity.
“Here you go. Some flasks of very strong turpentine. That should make short work of them. It might be strong enough to hurt other things, too.” A smile spread across his weary face. “Good luck out there. I’ll await the good news.”
”The paint thin- ah I see” Edward said, before agreeing that ”I’ll be sure to make use of them” as he accepted the somewhat specific weaponry.
He then informed the painter that ”The drawing room should be safe now, as the agitated spirit therein has calmed. I will keep it under watch, however, just in case it intends more trouble” before looking over the room they were in now that the urgency the spirit’s banging had produced had ended.
The news seemed to surprise Fred. “Oh…good. Well, that room isn’t usually there, anyway. It should go away once the door is closed.”
”I was intending to keep it open, actually” He replied, before explaining his reasoning ”If we make a chain of rooms joined by open doors, it should locking down the labyrinth and making it far less confounding to navigate. It should also allow my fellows to gradually filter into this location, and thus regroup so we can put our heads together and figure out an escape from this place”
Fred nodded tentatively. “Alright, uh. Good luck with that.”
Edward nodded in turn, and then took a moment to look over the room that was now functionally his basecamp. It was while doing so that his eyes came to rest on a staff resting on one of the shelves, which caused him to raise an eyebrow.
Upon retrieving and inspecting it, he came to the conclusion that Roxas had not had the eye for the magic found within. This prompted a swift search of the place, with which he uncovered a set of enchanted boots, a fine if mundane dagger sat in a display case and numerous gems. Most of these where roughly cut but seemed magical in nature baring one unusal gem that seemed to be of exceptional craftsmanship.
Staff of the Frost Atronach: can be used to summon a Frost Atronach for 60 seconds. This magic is powered by an internal charge that can be restored using soul gems. Enchanted Boots with 40% shock resistance Dwarven Dagger: An ancient blade made with high quality materials that neither dulls nor rusts. Its design meanwhile is rather straightforward, sporting neither unnecessary flair nor cunning craftsmanship. A stone of Barenziah: one of twenty four stones intended to adorn the crown of Barenziah. Valuable in its own right, it would be especially so to someone who wished to complete the set. Soul Gems: containing the captured souls of beasts, these gems can be used to both make and recharge magical artifacts.
While the boots would do well as either essence fodder or crucible fuel, the Dreadnought kept the rest of the items on his person. The gems might well have a use elsewhere in the maze after all, while the staff and blade would make decent additions to his arsenal.
Staff in hand, and troops at his back, he then proceeded to the door through which he had entered the archmage’s quarters, the golems stationed there ready to hold it open for him and secure a third room for his growing collection.
With Captain Falcon, Amaterasu, and the Bogard Twins Word Count: 1721 (+3)
Day two of Pools was officially in full swing. No announcements from the Four Kings were necessary to kick the action off today; the minute the clock struck nine, eager contestants kicked off the first batch of qualifier matches. Though these bouts were still a far cry from the intensity (or publicity) of Sunday’s Top 8 matches, the stakes were definitely higher for today’s fights. For Low-Tier fighters, getting this far was a sign that they might actually stand a chance at getting results, even if only in Losers. If they had only been trying their luck before, they would need to lock in and doggedly pursue victory. For the more likely candidates, they could not afford to rest on their laurels. There were still plenty of unknown, volatile up-and-comers who could knock them down a peg if they weren’t careful.
Stronger competitors meant stronger competition, and better spectatorship. Esaka’s populace knew it, so compared to day one, many more citizens and yokai turned up to watch. For now, their number included Bartholomew and Marguerite Bogard, perched up the precipice of the Middle Tier overlooking the King of Fighters division of the Pools tier. From there, they could see it all: every punch thrown, every sweep and anti-air, every teched throw and explosive counterhit. For a couple of kids insulated within the Lost Numbers colony or aboard the Avenger most of their lives, such spectacle was exhilarating. They weren’t just here to watch, though, nor even to fight, but to win. Today, thanks to their grandfather’s sudden and mystifying disappearance, the burden of saving the world fell on their narrow shoulders. And having already stretched, dressed themselves to the nines, and psyched themselves up, the two were ready. Neither Bart nor Marg planned to let their teammates down today.
Amaterasu lay on her belly just a little bit to their side, claws hooking the edge of the drop, snout leaning down into it as she observed the combat below, though she was not particularly focused on that observation. The water droplets from the light drizzle speckling her glossy white coat seemed to only enhance its radiance, as if to spite the overcast skies. Like the sky, her mind was lightly clouded with memories of how she had let the side down the previous day. Not only had she not actually won a match yet, only endured, she also had been in the team who’d lost track of Terry, only to then also expose themselves to the local Consul.
That none of these things had led to disaster was a combination of chance and hard effort by her allies, and she could not stand to rely on such things today. She would pull her weight and more so.
Captain Falcon stood nearby, arms crossed in solemn thought. There was no backing out of letting the twins fight now, as the substitution had now been finalized. For better or worse, they were on this team now. And whatever worry the F-Zero pilot had for their lives was just going to have to be replaced with faith in their abilities. He finally broke the silence. ”Remember,” he said, ”These aren’t going to be like normal fights. You’ll be under the effects of the Heavenly Principles. Your shields will only block attacks from straight ahead of you. The power of your attacks will probably feel weak at first due to the overall damage reduction, so you’ll need to get used to that and adjust your strategies accordingly when you need to.”
He sighed a bit and added, ”And mind the time limit - 90 seconds. If you’re not paying close enough attention to it, your opponent could potentially wait out the clock and win by decision.” He didn’t advise any more than that for now, not wanting to come across as patronizing - but still, he wanted to ensure they were aware of the basic rules at least. ”This was usually the part where Terry could tell us about who we’re up against. Since he’s… absent… I would advise us all to pay closer attention to the other matches wherever we can so we can learn about our potential future opponents.”
Although a little false bravado might lift the mood a bit and give the team a more optimistic outlook, the Bogard kids weren’t foolhardy. It was just now really sinking in for them how out of their depth they’d be today. In addition to being strangers to Esaka, its fighters, and its rules, they had to contend with the Heavenly Principles. So far, the power of their grandparents, borne of pure elemental earth magic and the notion of Preservation itself, had been a potent enough trump card to save their skins whenever they needed it. Now, their abilities were subject to the adjustment of an unknown entity. Even if they preferred to rely on their own skill rather than raw power, it was a scary thought.
At the same time, though, neither Bart nor Marg were about to let anxiety devour them. They didn’t know much about the King of Fighters tournament, but they did know that only two of the three competitors actually needed to win to advance the team. Still, they wouldn’t be satisfied with coasting by on Amaterasu and Falcon’s coattails. They were going to win.
“Thanks for the advice, Cap,” Bart told Falcon.
“No matter how long it takes, we’ll play patient and whittle them down,” Marg explained. “There are plenty of ‘zoners’ in Esaka, right? If we play our cards right, they won’t so much as touch us.”
Ameterasu cocked her head to the side in thought for a moment. Then she turned the world into her canvas, dipped her brush into the pools down below and wrote in the sky the warning “Then is known strategy" in text as stylish and stylised as possible as if that would make up the indignity caused by her four word limit.
Seeing her warning, Marg shrugged. “Well, it's what we’ve got. Plus, the people here in Esaka have been fighting for what, two hundred years? Nothing new under the sun.”
The wolf gave a little head tilt that somewhat conveyed an attitude of “I suppose” but internally she at least hoped that the sun herself might be able to throw them a little off guard.
”Well, we’d better get down there ourselves.” Falcon reminded them, ”Getting eliminated because of tardiness would be rather embarrassing, don’t you think?”
That went without saying, so the kids got a move on without a word, their teammates following right behind. A lift down to the Pools tier happened to be less than a minute’s travel away, although given the time of day it was so jam-packed with competitors and spectators on their way to the qualifiers that the team could scarcely cram in. Once they did wedge themselves in amongst the musclebound brawlers, masked ninjas, and other fighters, a quick ride down brought them to the watery expanse of arenas and walkways that would bear witness to the Seekers’ rise or fall. Having already used a bulletin board to familiarize themselves with their designated arena -as well as the names of their prospective opponents- the four knew just where to go.
Today, the King of Fighters contingent had the privilege of scrapping atop a rather high-profile arena. Five statues of ancient Chinese warriors, each easily twenty-five feet tall, stood in the water holding ropes that worked together to suspend a disk-shaped stage, accessible via wooden walkway from one side and large enough to accommodate three duels at once. One of the biggest and fanciest battlefields in the Pools tier, this stage tended to draw a decent crowd, with a number of citizens and yokai perched atop the surrounding statues for premium viewing. Whether they liked it or not, it looked like Team Seekers of Fight would be subject to a lot of publicity.
Furthermore, their opponents were already here. Amaterasu in particular would recognize the elegant, reserved Jun Kazama with her raven-black hair and flowing white dress, although her presence here meant that the gentle-looking woman was in truth a foe to be taken seriously. At the lady’s side stood her niece, the tough and feisty Japanese brunette Asuka Kazama who the Seekers might be a bit more hard-pressed to recognize as Sakura’s counterpart in the Asuka/Lily-Sakura/Karin rivalry. Finally, the rough-and-tumble Chinese detective Lei Wulong completed the trio, a hard-boiled gumshoe with Jun’s years of experience and Asuka’s raw gumption. These were fighters from Tekken, a High-Tier dojo, and beating them would be no mean feat.
Amaterasu padded up the walkway with head held high, ignoring the jeering coming from a certain Yokai who had tried to steal the letter of recommendation from Jun Kazama, before seating herself down opposite the woman in a clear indication of her desire to face off against the woman. This would be her trial, the cliff to test her new resolve. Not just in terms of martial prowess but also, perhaps even more so, in terms of setting aside her fears of harming the undeserving, for none were less deserving than the charitable woman across from her.
Captain Falcon stepped forward a pace further than where his team stood, a silent indication that he was indeed the captain of this particular team. It wasn’t hard to see who Amaterasu preferred to fight, so the Captain went ahead and let her square off with Jun if she so desired. And between the remaining two Tekken fighters, it seemed pretty obvious that the detective was the one he was going to fight here. That at least would give the twins an opponent closer to their age range to fight in their first round. This would also be Cap’s oldest opponent thus far. Kung Fu Girl and Lee were both pretty students of their arts. This man, on the other hand, seemed a fair bit more experienced and wizened. Of course one could only glean so much from appearances alone.
