Day/Time: Day Two; Evening
Location: Butter Building; Interior - 2nd Floor -> 1st Floor
Tags: Wario @Holy Soldier, Alicia @Zarkun
Mentions: Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki, Cloud, Waluigi @Holy Soldier
Word Count: 1078
Blue Eggs: 100 -> 94/100
Red Feathers: 98/100
The look of devious contemplation that came over Wario said everything they needed to know even before sliding every square inch of his fat ass oversized posterior down the high-stacked mound of bullion to give them his answer--they had him convinced. Despite the doubts everyone seemed to have earlier on, the amount of trouble the team had been saved versus how much they’d been in up to that point spoke volumes of Frisk’s overtly diplomatic approach to every situation--no matter how hopeless--and that they were able to persuade a likely adversary to ally with them in to coming battle (especially after what they pulled with him at the start of the mission) only further testified to that. Even amongst heroes, it doesn’t seem to occur to most just how beneficial it is--for all--to have a charismatic, rational, and DETERMINED pacifist around to do greater good where it can be done. It’s not as if Banjo had never attempted diplomacy himself, but on account of his mouthy companion and a myriad of contrivedly absurd misunderstandings, it never quite did pan out that way for the two. To say the least, it was nice to see that change for once.
While Wario was eager to lend his talents and abilities, even if it was motivated solely by the prospect of personal gain, his brother(?) didn’t appear to share his enthusiasm. One would think Waluigi had a little more fighting spirit than he was showing here, considering it was no secret to anyone that he would routinely and obstinately re-submit his candidacy for Smash numerous time a year in light of repeated rejections. Given the cartoonish, embarrassing, and arguably uncharacteristic show of stubborn cowardice on display, it was hard to believe that this was the same guy… unless, of course, the new Dedede truly was that frightening. With the farcical antics concluded, the party began their march down the last flight of stairs to the final boss.
A familiar theme queued as they took their first steps into the deep, winding well of pitch vapor that gradually thickened on the way down until it all but replaced the oxygen in the air. Thankfully, it wasn't enough to actually present itself as a prevalent environmental hazard. However, they did all still have their gas masks (a spare for Alicia) from mission start that they could re-equip on a moment's notice should that change and the need arise for “Hey, Banjo, you hear that? The music's changed again,” Kazooie remarked to the non-diegetic sound that seemingly only they were aware of.
“Yep, I recognize it,” Banjo acknowledged. “Usually, something bad happens when it does. I have a particularly bad feeling about it this time.” He wasn't the only one. Everyone in attendance seemed visibly and understandably nervous or on edge--especially Wario, who seemed like he was already starting to regret his decision to accompany the party. This inspired a justifiable concern in Frisk about the fat man’s willingness to participate that forced a call for change in their formation that would ensure it.
“Relax, Gas Bag. You're immortal, remember?” Kazooie casually reminded in an almost mocking manner just how little the villain had in the way of excuses. Banjo simply smiled and gave him a firm, prodding, but non-aggressive pat on the back with to urge him forward. They eventually arrived at a vacuous, unlit chamber (at which point the music would stop) to find the King himself brought low with sickness, supported only by a set of stolen armor.
“Hmmm… I don’t know about this, guys,” expressed Banjo with misgivings about fighting one with potentially terminal illness. “He doesn't look so good. We should probably get him a doctor.” After having made her own observations, Alicia whispered her thoughts to the duo.
“I'm not sure which one is ‘Fatso’ anymore,” Kazooie replied to the stalwart, whose stoicism made it difficult to tell if she was joking. “This guy can't even stand up on his own.”
“Come to think of it, aren't those the boots that fish lady asked us to bring back for her?”
“You thinking what I'm thinking?”
“Beating a helpless sick patient while he's weak so we can steal back from him and try them on?”
“Something like that.”
Unconvinced that the penguin's condition could be reversed, he had his weapon readily brandished in anticipation of a battle, but respectfully waited for Frisk to attempt a peaceful resolution before acting. It took the child practically nothing to get Dedede to confess to everything. If anything, he seemed ready to talk; he was desperate. His compliance did him sadly little good, however, for it was apparent by then that no one there could help him. His agonized cries for mercy from a nightmarish episode of impending body horror were cut short by the sound of snapping vertebrae as his mouth was forcibly stretched open to proportions unfathomable even for him. Kazooie recoiled at the sight with slightly puffed cheeks and a wing covering her mouth, choking back the urge to vomit, while Banjo simply squinted his eyes shut and averted his gaze as he sucked air through gritted teeth.
A blinding flash--from which the bear and bird shielded their eyes (and each other’s)--accompanied the emergence of a dark, oily, cycloptic ectoplasm from the king’s gruesomely contorted form. It promptly began sizing up the group before training its sight on the duo and picking them as its first target. The boss’s eye constricted, and the unseen force of threefold gravity bore down on them, forcing Banjo onto all four points and leaving a concave dent in the floor where he stood. In a prime position to do little else until they regained full mobility, they opted to fire two sets of three-round egg volleys at the creature’s in the hopes that stunning, blinding, or distracting it would do the trick, but this assumed that the magic was concentration based. Either way, if this proved successful, Banjo would begin rushing to close the gap to get within melee range, where him and Kazooie where more effective. Talon Trot could theoretically get them there faster, but the start-up and end lag on it was too great to risk standing still in front of and enemy whose pattern they had yet to discern for. For now, standard mobility would suffice while they took care to look out for any attacks they could actually dodge, in the event they had to.