Looks great! I'll eagerly anticipate her arrival in the near future.
I just hope I can do the character justice.
Dawnrider
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I just hope I can do the character justice.
Level: 5 -> 6
Day/Time: Day Three; Dawn -> Mid-Morning
Location: Smash Arena - Tunnels -> Tetris Castle: Council Chamber -> 75th Floor - Personal Quarters -> (X)rd Floor - Hangar Bay -> Platform City Airspace; In pursuit of the Halberd
Tags: Rosalina @Holy Soldier
Mentions: Naija @DracoLunaris, Guile, Kirby, Meta Knight @Holy Soldier, Varrock @Zarkun
The entire campaign up to this point had been little shy of disastrous. The System lost its greatest, most iconic, longest-lived hero, who was subsequently grave robbed at his own funeral, forcing them to align (albeit temporarily) with a villain in order to recover his stolen soul, and the one place in which they sought to seek brief respite in healthy competition brought only chaos and extensive, unnecessary civilian casualties… all just within the first two days. This all weighed heavily on Fox’s mind for the next few hours following the latest incident, flooding him with an array of emotions that he still managed to keep mostly well hidden, as he tended to do. These included some degree of guilt for having unwittingly encouraged the team’s participation in the night’s events with his own (having been tasked with keeping them conditioned), regret for those he couldn’t save, doubts about the heroes’ cause and his part in it, anger enough to compel him to leave a faint impression with the outermost of his fist in the elevator wall when he was alone to do so, and the sense of melancholic grief that came with all of it. At the moment, there was little else to be felt about it, and the meeting that was called did no favors on that front.
Fox hadn’t spoken to or even made direct eye contact with anyone since leaving the tunnels, not even at the meeting (which he failed to notice that Slayer was absent from, despite being the last one present to have seen him), during which they were admonished for taking part in underground sport with nonsensical talks of “punishment”, which were thankfully reconsidered, but simultaneously thanked for having coincidentally put themselves there in a position where they could act to prevent a potentially greater disaster from sneaking up on them. That was certainly more than could be said for the incompetent containment force over-eager to act prematurely on kill orders, who should have been held accountable for their actions, but instead got off seemingly uncensured with some of their own still working the case, despite doing arguably more harm than the actual enemy. Fox might have had the mind to protest as much, had his mind not been somewhere else wondering what he could have done better or differently or why the hell he even still bothered doing what he did by continually re-assuming his “hero” mantle. With a little time, he would be able to answer that question for himself. For the time being, there were more urgent matters that demanded his attention with only one person around who could answer the questions that needed to be asked. Having said that, he wasn’t exactly interested in asking them right now--not while his wits weren’t about him.
It had occurred to him that he was going on two full days with almost no rest, so any interrogation from him would have to wait until that changed. Besides, Moneybags was safely within the Council’s custody with forty-eight floors of heroes and armed forces between him and escape, should it cross his mind; he wasn’t going anywhere. Implicitly assured of that, he retired to his personal quarters to turn in for what he expected would be the remainder of the morning. Having brought virtually nothing with him besides what he had equipped, the room was short on personal belongings. However, it came sufficiently pre-furnished well enough to keep it from being too sparse while leaving room for any requested additions. It was even designed with a space-age aesthetic to give it a comfortable sense of familiarity for the spacefarer. It was likely that all of the heroes’ rooms were similarly tailored to their occupants. Needless to say, they were all reasonably well accommodated for.
For now, the weary pilot would only be making use of a few square feet of the space he was provided. Immediately after the door shut itself behind him, he removed his belt with all of the adjoining effects (his blaster and reflector) and hung them from a spare loop on the wall next to the newly furnished flight jacket that was waiting for him. (Apparently, some kleptomaniac made off with his previous replacement during the ensuing chaos back at the arena.) Motioning a few inputs on a touch-based atmospheric control panel, he dimmed the accent lighting and replaced the outside view through the window with a simulation of space to obscure the encroaching daylight that would otherwise disturb his sleep before gently positioning himself on the semi-firm mattress without so much as untucking the blanket or removing his boots. With some light shifting in place to adjust for comfort and a deep, heavy sigh, he let his eyes relax themselves shut, allowing no further thoughts of the previous days--or those due to come--to pass through his mind as he drifted off effortlessly into peaceful unconsciousness.
Sadly, he wouldn’t even enter his first REM cycle before being alerted awake by the alarm system. The vulpine sprang to his feet, grabbed his effects, and made a dead run out the door, throwing on his belt and jacket on the move. He would arrive on-scene a few steps (or hops, in her case) behind Naija, but not before drawing his sidearm and getting off a few pot shots at the invaders at the end of the hall, which he now recognized as denizens of Dream Land through their peculiar getup. He had to take special care to not hit the wounded Major or Ambassador Rosalina, and at that distance, his accuracy suffered as a result. His shots found no purchase against any of the minions before they could make off with Moneybags, nor against the one leading them. Fox angled down his weapon when Kirby called out to the familiar figure, an expression of curious sobriety coming over him at the realization that gave him pause.
Though it probably shouldn't have, Meta Knight's apparent involvement in this came as something of a surprise for the mercenary. Thus, he was reluctant to take any shots at the spherical warrior; not only because he understood what he was capable of, but because he only ever knew him as an ally from during the Subspace Incident. He sent himself off with a challenge to Kirby (and, by extension, everyone else present) to seek him out just before disappearing into the translucent teleportation ray. Fox began to assess the situation more closely as he took in the scene that transpired around him. In his contemplative daze, he neglected to answer Varrock's call. He was thinking that there had to be some greater reason for everything that was happening--for why a known ally of the System would suddenly make himself an enemy of it. They were short on much needed answers to be found, and with the efforts of the healers faltering, he concluded that he could do no good were he was.
Fox sprinted off back in the opposite direction he came from towards the warp elevator, giving a firm pound on the control panel upon entering so that it may take him down to the hangar bay as quickly and expediently as it was capable of doing. There, his old aircraft would be waiting for him. He had put in the request to have it brought in shortly after the first mission, which was little trouble for them considering that they could reach across the universe for recruitment, and he spent most of that night into the late morning hours before the funeral assisting the resident engineers as he could just to keep himself busy while getting it back into working shape. While it wouldn't come fully loaded out or upgraded, all of it's basic functionality would be restored to have it flight-ready again. As soon as it came into view for him, Fox beelined for his Arwing with alarming haste, entering the cockpit with more of a leaping step and a somersault than a climb. The windshield lowered around him and the propulsion systems whirred to life as he hurried through all the preparatory steps to readying for takeoff, skimming through the diagnostic prompts that showed up in his HUD.
Although he was going alone, he thought the better of relaying as much to no one, and apropos of that, he could at the very least inform the gracious celestial that represented his corner of existence. He opened up a comms line to Rosalina, unsure of how she would hear it, but knowing she would regardless. “Ambassador! This is Fox. Do you read me?” He would await her confirming response if she had one, and wouldn't if she didn’t. “I'm going after him,” he declared calmly. He knew what he was getting himself into acting on bold impulse like he did, but they weren't soon going to have another chance like this to get a better look at their real enemy. He wasn't going to argue with anyone about it, wait for orders, or ask permission, nor would he be daunted or deterred by the frankly suicidal odds against him if it meant doing what needed to be done. If she knew anything about him at all, he trusted that she would understand that. Regardless, he would be well on his way by the time anyone would find out that he had left.
With his piece said, and without further delay, Fox gradually engaged the throttle until it was a full. The docking rail did the rest, carrying him to the bay exit at speeds that could make most faint and slingshotting the spacecraft into a spiraling ascent. The jet's momentum briefly slowed upon unfurling its wings before suddenly quadrupling with an energetic burst to send it into escape velocity. A violet, radial flash of boosterlight and the bright report of overdriven g-diffusers signalled the start of the spacefarer's likely perilous pursuit of the Halberd as the Arwing vanished into the sky.
Level: 4 -> 5
Day/Time: Day Two; Evening
Location: Butter Building; Interior - 1st Floor
Tags: None
Mentions: Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki, Alicia @Zarkun, Cloud @Holy Soldier
Word Count: 491
Blue Eggs: 94/100
Red Feathers: 48/50 (<---I might have had this wrong before.)
With the encumbering effect of the gravity spell relieved, Banjo set off in a dead run towards the creature, both to continue providing a distraction and to get him and Kazooie closer. Banjo may have been slower on his own feet than Kazooie’s, but no farther than they were away from the boss, they should still be able get in the monster's face in time to make an honest move against it. Ideally, they would have been able to scoop up (and possibly use) the now hostless winged greaves, but with the boss readying its next attack, evasive action demanded their focus. With a choice between retrieving the armor and defeating the boss, the former could stand to wait a little longer.
Originally, they intended to simply pummel away at the creature as they were able until it went down--as they usually do--but the results of Frisk’s mysterious analysis method opened up a few possibilities. All the talk abouts SOULS was a tad morbid and confusing, but what mattered was that the king could still be saved, which by itself was worth hazarding. Of course, that didn’t stop the Pacifist and the Titan from picking a bad time to debate their morals, par for the course. Alicia exclaimed that it was a problem that couldn’t simply be dealt with by force (exactly what she was doing, ironically, but in a different sense), but if Dedede really was still alive, it was worth entertaining the possibility that she was wrong. However, the duo wouldn’t do that by TALKING the virus out of him. They had what they considered a slightly better idea.
While Alicia shot at the boss on one side, the bear and breegull would take to the other, taking care to dodge the sweeping laser as they made their approach. However, if the Titan succeeded in throwing it off-balance, that could cause it fall one way or another and alter the beam’s angle, so Banjo would (have to) attempt to dive over or under it accordingly. In the same motion, the duo would land into a roll towards the monster’s other free arm in an effort to barrel into it and knock out its other point of balance. If it worked, Banjo would try to grab the creature by that arm at the “wrist”, wrapping his own around it as tightly as he could manage as he began to pull backwards in the hopes of physically extracting the parasitic amorphea. If the other arm was knocked out as well, he would attempt the same with both, clenching one under each armpit. Kazooie started to vigorously flap her wings to assist with the likely strenuous effort. As long of a shot as it seemed, it was probably the best idea any of them had at the moment, given the circumstances, so they would (and possibly could) do it on their own if they had to… but wouldn’t mind a little help.
Level: 4
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.”
“Then no.”
“Just asking”
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.
Level: 4
Day/Time: Day Two; Evening
Location: Butter Building; Interior - 3rd Floor -> 2nd Floor
Tags: Wario @Holy Soldier, Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki
Mentions: Alicia @Zarkun, Cloud, Waluigi @Holy Soldier
Word Count: 728
Blue Eggs: 100/100
Red Feathers: 98/100
The group barely made it out of the 3rd floor and into the stairwell before moral quandary began to call itself in again, and a short-lived debate of ethics ensued once more. The bear and bird kept silent during this (uncharacteristically so, in the case of the latter) because they were, quite simply, out of their element. In the past, there was never any question of them being in the right, what with having a very clear evil to face, and never before have they been challenged with any ideas to the contrary. Then again, they’ve never had a boss willingly sacrifice themselves for their sakes--a fact that their child leader seemed visibly unhappy with. The soldier urged everyone else onward while he attempted to console the child. Just as well. There was more emotional tension in the air than the duo was used to or comfortable with, let alone would they know what to do, so it made the most sense that it be left up to with some experience (mostly personal) in such matters.
The soldier and the duo wisely pressed on while the other two stayed back to regroup amongst themselves. The path downward was lit with a gilded radiance that shone through the doorway with such brilliance to announce itself before they could see it. The bright, tintinnabulous clattering of soft metals running across itself told Banjo and Kazooie that what lied ahead was none other than a treasure hoard--something they had seen before. They expected this time, however, that it would be substantially larger, that they wouldn’t be welcomed there (obviously), and that they would be in for a fight when they arrived. Naturally, they were surprised to find their expectations subverted when they showed up only to find their work already done for them. Even more surprising a sight than the quartet of floor bosses having been laid out prior to arrival was that of the two presumably responsible relishing in a bountiful victory.
Sat upon a makeshift throne of bullion and precious gems was none other than their unwilling IED from earlier, Wario, and his ambiguously related partner in crime--his “brother”--Waluigi, performing the physically impossible (for most). They broke from their celebratory immersion upon taking notice of the heroes to inquire--with an inordinate degree of surprise that would suggest offense to the very fact--as to how they made it there… as if there was really much of a question that they could.
“Honestly, we’re kind of wondering the same about you,” Banjo remarked, genuinely curious as to how the two could be left at the top of the building and still manage to beat the group nearly to the bottom.
“He probably rolled… or bounced,” snarked Kazooie at the portly villain’s expense.
The true answer to the riddle of how they made it there so quickly was probably closer to them simply taking “the short way” and jumping down, which was more than certainly in the realm of feasibility for them, but that hardly mattered at the moment; they had a pair of winged boots and the bottled soul of a legend to look for. Once the rest of the group rejoined them, Banjo and Kazooie set to scaling and rummaging through the stacked hills of gold, much to Wario’s chagrin. They ignored the greedy doppelganger's protest, but he did have a point about their chances of finding what they were looking for. Their history suggested that they were particularly good at finding things (if the Ice Vault was any indication), yet they were having no such luck here. After about the fourth or fifth time sliding downhill, Banjo started to concur with Wario’s testified doubts.
“I think he’s right. I doubt the king would leave something that valuable behind knowing we were coming for it,” Banjo reasoned. After a moment, Frisk proposed to the brothers (perhaps against everyone’s better wishes) that they ally with them for the upcoming battle, which seemed both a good and bad idea, given their potential utility as well as their character. The child rationalized with Wario a personal incentive on his part for lending his aid, and their reasoning, while not entirely bulletproof, was convincingly solid. Now it was just a matter of finding out whether or not Wario was convinced. The bear and bird awaited attentively for whatever answer may come.
Level: 3 -> 4
Day/Time: Day Two; Evening
Location: Butter Building; Interior - 3rd Floor
Tags: None
Mentions: Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki, Alicia @Zarkun, Cloud @Holy Soldier
Word Count: 562
Blue Eggs: 100/100 (Reset)
Red Feathers: 98/100 (Reset)
The bear and bird hadn’t fully turned back around to face the sun (as bad as that is for one’s eyesight) before their ears were met with his agonized screams before catching sight of the gruesome visual that made the reason for it immediately apparent. They saw Mr. Shine tumble haplessly to the ground with one of Bright’s blades protruding from his eye socket, and as he impacted, nightly darkness overtook the opposite end of the room, splitting it evenly down the middle between day and night. The hate-hate relationship between the two cosmic entities--for which the unnatural contrast in setting seemed to be a suitable metaphor--made it difficult for the duo to tell if the sickle to Shine’s eye was the result of a missed strike against them, a treacherous cheap shot by Mr. Bright, or a freak accident of the blade somehow being sent astray. Regardless of what happened to be the case, a harrowing momentary realization hit them that they were just lucky enough to have narrowly avoided a similar (or worse) fate, as they had failed to notice it happen when it did. The action was brought to a sudden but brief standstill as the moon stared down the sun contemplatively, and Banjo and Kazooie held their flight in place (as much as they could without gradually descending, that is) to carefully observe the scene from on high.
Everyone collectively came to their own internal realizations regarding the events that had just transpired, but Mr. Bright’s was soon made the most evident--and urgent. He began making his way slowly over to his wounded should-be ally under the mistaken presupposition that he was given the opportunity to effortlessly finish him off. Expectedly, Shine wouldn’t let it stand, so he retaliated preemptively with a volatile blast of plasmatic energy that threatened, by his assertion, to claim the entire battlefield and everyone on it. And so, as was all but inevitable, the sun and moon turned against each other. The sun posed a more immediate threat, however, so the duo didn’t bother waiting for Frisk’s call to take action; their own assessment sufficed in deciding that he was too dangerous to be left uninterrupted. With an anticipatory tuck, the two shot forward in Mr. Shine’s direction with a reckless burst of speed, leaving behind them a red energy trail similar to when they took flight and spending two feathers in the process (one for extra distance/good measure). Connecting the attack should prove easy enough with Shine preoccupied, so an unexpected concussive blow as forceful as this would ideally be sufficient in causing him to stop what he’s doing if not knocking him unconscious.
As was typical, a successful impact would send the duo tumbling backwards at an upward angle, which Banjo would attempt to take advantage of by reaching for the embedded lunar blade to pull it from Shine’s head, flinging it behind them and away from everyone else. It would undoubtedly be painfully and damaging for him, but it struck Banjo as cruel and unconscionable to simply leave it there, even if they did, by chance, end up having to dispatch him shortly after. That said, he wouldn’t expect the already angry celestial to be grateful to him for it, so as soon as Banjo’s feet touched the ground, him and Kazooie would stand ready for whatever came next.
Level: 3
Day/Time: Day Two; Evening
Location: Butter Building; Interior - 3rd Floor
Tags: None
Mentions: Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki, Alicia @Zarkun, Cloud @Holy Soldier
Word Count: 501
Blue Eggs: 90/100
Red Feathers: 99/100
Ability: Flight
Cloud, Alicia, and Kazooie focused down their lunar adversary before he could get a chance to properly rebound, stacking each of their attacks on top of the other. The combined assault more than sufficed in visibly (and quite literally) chipping away at him, forcing him on the defensive surprisingly early into the battle. Noticeably worried by the realization that he had already been wounded, Bright hurriedly attempted to conceal it to no avail, and his so-called “partner” offered him nothing in the way of reassurance with his discouraging mockery, which in all likelihood only served to further exacerbate the moon’s frustration. In fact, Shine seemed to be rooting against his own “partner” in anticipation for his own turn, apparently failing to realize that Bright’s downfall would be directly tantamount to his own, as he would be left confront all of them alone and unaided. More tactical minds would conclude that the adversarial lack of cooperation between Mr. Shine and Mr. Bright would prove to be the instrument of said downfall, but to the bear and breegull, who spent the better half of their lives working together as best friends, it was both inconceivable and unacceptable.
However, it did proved to be ironically--if unintentionally--helpful in its own way, as Mr. Shine, in his bout of derisive laughter, began pouring tears of cinder onto the battlefield below him. Banjo did his best to evasively sidestep the downpour so as not to catch fire whilst still trying to keep some focus on Mr. Bright. The verbal telegraphy of loudly, dramatically announcing his incoming attack made that easy enough. Banjo peered slightly over his shoulder at the swirling blade of moonlight rapidly closing in on his back-right flank, and with a brief window to respond, the duo swung arm and wing upward to Flap Flip over the boomerang as it made its pass while turning mid-jump to land facing in Mr. Shine’s direction. As feet touched down, wings went up, and with a low chirp from Kazooie to signal, she flapped them forcefully, sending her and Banjo soaring upward with a trail of glistening red light marking their ascent.
The familiar sensation of flight was one lost on her over the years that she had long missed, but she wouldn’t be able to fully relish in it just yet. At the moment, they had allies to protect and two bosses to pummel into submission, and seeing as she particularly enjoyed the latter, it more than made up for not having the moment to herself to enjoy recovering part of her old self again. She would start this off with four ‘celebratory’ shots at Mr. Shine to divert his attention from the goings-on at ground-level, and then banked left away from him, hoping to draw his gaze. All the while, her and Banjo would be sure both to keep an alternating eye between them on their allies as well, just in case they came under sudden need for air support at any point during the battle.
Level: 3
Day/Time: Day Two; Evening
Location: Butter Building; Interior - 5th Floor -> 4th Floor -> 3rd Floor
Tags: None
Mentions: Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki, Alicia @Zarkun, Cloud @Holy Soldier, Phoenix Wright @Leaves
Word Count: 964
Blue Eggs: 94/100
Kazooie was rightly ignored during her and Banjo’s turn in favor of a more urgent matter. Given that she generally tended to draw too much attention (mostly negative) their way, it was unusual for the duo to have focus taken off them so easily, but in this case, it came as more of a relief than anything. The issue at hand was none other than an apparent inventory malfunction on the Bros’ part. A live explosive somehow loosed itself from one of their pockets while they were engaged in their fits of laughter, at which point Frisk set to trying to rectify the problem, which really just meant physically carrying it as far away from the scene as possible. S/he then proceeded to disarm it in the stairwell with… something. To an uninformed observer, it was difficult to tell exactly what it was that the kid kept projecting forth, but it could be safely inferred that there was definitely more to them than appearances and demeanor suggested.
Astonished by what they had just witnessed, the two brothers rushed over to the child--and the soldier who covered them--as hastily as their anatomy would allow to offer their thanks. The second bro made note of the fact that Frisk chose to save their lives in their moment of weakness rather than exploiting their hysterical stupor to do away with them, while the first was at the child’s feet begging forgiveness for his prior indiscretion. Their decision to shift their allegiances in the heroes’ favor followed shortly after, but not without some brief debate amongst the two regarding the matter. The bear and bird couldn’t help but notice the part where they were afraid that Kirby would come to “kill” them. Kirby? That harmless looking pink creature back on the ship that Rosalina was playing with? What kind of universe was this where that was the apparent bane of everyone’s existence?
Regardless, it sounded like the bros could go for some much needed and very well justified desertion, but not before they returned their favor of gratitude to the team. They volunteered to get them through the next floor and began leading them down. As the team made their descent, the scent of sea salt hit them with the steady rise of moisture content in the air--a familiar sensation to the bear and breegull. This told them that water awaited them at the end… and them some. They arrived at a dark, cavernous ocean body with but a narrow bridge of dock stretching from one end to the other for footing, and from beneath all of it abruptly emerged the would-be floor boss, Fatty, arcing overhead and splashing down on the side opposite. Banjo and Kazooie both waved at him as he was formally introduced. The Poppy Bros (the smarter of the two, mostly) made their case to Fatty, explaining what had lead up to it, and without any fuss whatsoever, the blue whale casually agreed to let the team by. Good thing, too, as the duo would have been ill-suited to face him at their current level without most of their abilities (and maybe some help from Mumbo and/or Humba). While he was at it, he made sure to warn the group that those up ahead wouldn’t be so easy-going or merciful as him.
“Too bad for them,” added Kazooie somewhat cockily, implying that the proceeding bosses would be better off following Fatty and the Bros’ (but more so Fatty’s) example. Banjo returned a nod to the floor bosses in parting before continuing onward. They eventually found themselves in yet another dark room, but the feeling of open air and soft grass against Banjo’s bare feet gave him some sense of where he might be, even if it didn’t make sense. Then again, not much here did.
In came two voices to break the silence, followed by the reveal of illuminating presences to give them shape, which came in the form of sun and moon. They barely finished introducing themselves by name (Misters Shine and Bright, respectively) before they took to aggressively arguing over who would get the first shot at the heroes. The sky flickered compulsively between day and night as the two celestial body caricatures butted heads competing for the leading spot in their turn order. What stopped them from both acting as a unit? What it simply because day and night took turns by way of natural order? Whatever made things easier on the team would be fine by Banjo and Kazooie, either way.
They finally came to a reluctant consensus with a single round of Rock-Paper-Scissors that Mr. Bright had been the victor of. Mr. Shine begrudgingly conceded and took his place at the top of the “room”, casting daylight on their chosen battleground. Bright dropped to ground-level and wasted no time making his first move. He began to whirl like a saw before charging recklessly towards the group, kicking up fresh grass trimmings in his wake. Banjo threw himself to his left without thinking, having almost no time to, in an attempt to dodge that might narrowly succeed. Kazooie would then capitalize on his momentum by twisting clockwise with wings outstretched, reorienting them to face in the direction of the rolling moon, and bringing them to a graceful stop. Banjo landed on all fours in a lunging position, taking aim at Mr. Bright as Kazooie discharged two three-round volleys of blue eggs that may otherwise appear harmless but had the speed and a glowing particle trail behind them to suggest otherwise. Admittedly, while not bad on their own, they used to have harder hitting tools in their kit to choose from, but given their current limitations, they would be more than fine making do on their ranged options.
Level: 2
Day/Time: Day Two; Afternoon
Location: Butter Building; Interior - 5th Floor
Tags: Phoenix Wright @Leaves
Mentions: Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki, Alicia @Zarkun, Cloud @Holy Soldier
Word Count: 785
Thankfully, if unsurprisingly, Frisk’s gambit for humorous diplomacy seemed to work--at least well enough to get his/herself past. All it took was some low-hanging punny humor that all but wrote itself. Now, everyone else just had to do the same and they could move forward without resistance. If the two bosses were as easily amused as impressions would suggest, then it shouldn’t be that hard to get a qualifying laugh out of them… for everyone but the two more tonally serious characters in the room, that is. They, specifically, were probably under far more pressure to perform, being out of their element and all. It’s said that comedy of harder to write for a reason, but who knows? Perhaps, it was merely assumed that their sense of humor would be woefully lacking. Maybe, there was a chance that they could end up surprising everyone, and they would get their chance to do so after the lawyer, who visibly struggled to come up with anything that might work.
“Here’s a joke: You’re funny,” said the breegull sarcastically, deriding the lawyer for his attempt at humor. He was bombing, and he knew it. The party’s survival hinged on everyone’s individual comedic success, yet there Kazooie was halfway to proverbially booing the man off stage. Then, he dropped an actual punchline, and then to his knees, clearly lacking any confidence in his chances.
“Hmm… maybe you guys should have mercy on him,” Banjo petitioned, hoping to bail the lawyer out. “I mean, he already looks beat. Why blow someone up if they’ve already blown i-” He was stopped just shy of finishing his appeal by the delighted giggling that proved it to be unnecessary, as seemed to have gone unnoticed through, anyhow.
“Okay, I’ll give him that one.”
“Well… as long as it works for them…”
Eyes then fell on the swordsman, who was too absorbed in thought to notice right away. In all likelihood, he was still trying to think of something funny--at least by some remotely passable definition of such--but one of the Bros quickly began to grow impatient with him. Tensions escalated to a frightening high when he threatened to bomb the remaining party as his brother talked him down from it. Eventually, the mercenary delivered. In line with every other joke told up to that point, it was painfully bad, but it became apparent that it was exactly what they needed when he had them falling on their back with uncontrollable laughter. At some point after that, the duo’s turn finally came around.
“I guess we’re up. You remember any good--or bad--jokes?”
“Yeah. I think I know what we’re going for here.” While she didn’t appreciate being mistakenly referred to as a “chicken”, Kazooie understood the circumstantial need to repress her characteristic urge to fire off insults in response. As difficult as it may be to dodge such a habit, it was important to remember that this wasn’t their game anymore. They were unscripted now, so she didn’t have to start fights (not that it would always unfailingly occur to her).
“Just try to keep it safe for work,” Banjo reminded. They were E-rated mascots in an E-rated world, after all.
“Alright. What’s big, white, heavy, and can’t climb trees?”
During the brief pause, Banjo pondered on what the answer might actually be. Boggy? Mrs. Boggy? Groggy? The latter in particular stuck out in his mind with the keyword ‘heavy’ as a reminder of the time he had to physically carry him to the Witchyworld exit. Then again, they all fit that description. Big. White. Heavy. Probably couldn’t climb trees since they were polar bears. It didn’t really matter either way. This wasn’t a puzzle or life/death trivia question like he was used to, and none of those answers made sense as a punchline. He was clearly overthinking it. Three seconds pass.
“A fridge.”
Of course. An anti-joke. A loaded setup with an absurdly obvious answer intended to subvert the idea behind it. It would probably work, though. However, a simple inventory malfunction threatened to jeopardize their efforts. Banjo noticed Frisk scrambling to relocate the loose explosive to minimize the damage done as well as just getting it safely away from everyone else. It didn’t seem advisable to leave them to take care of it alone, even if by some chance s/he knew what s/he was doing.
“Erm… Kazooie? We should probably-”
“Hang on. I’ve got one more,” Kazooie interjected in a subdued chuckle, failing to even so much as notice, let alone acknowledge, the fact that a CHILD just passed them handling explosive ordinance. “How did the hipster burn himself?”
…
“He drank his coffee before it was cool.”
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