Dawnrider

World of Light

Level: 3 (1 -> 13 -> 16 -> 19/30)
Location: Dead Zone - Charnal Lane; Graveyard -> Cathedral Plaza - Entrance -> Inside the Van -> Cathedral Plaza
Word Count: 1739 (+3 EXP)

Power: Shock Spring Jump (Level), Beak Buster (Purchase)

With some orchestrated assistance from the demon, Banjo and his allies were finally able to haul the van back onto solid ground. Stumbling, he ended up halfway underneath it with barely an inch or two of clearance where he laid for a second to catch his breath until Kazooie pecked at his head to urge him up and out. She meant only to remind him that he was lying face up on top of her, but he would be glad in a minute to have not lingered under the tire of a reckless driver like Nico.

For sure, rescuing the van took a lot out of everyone involved, leaving all three needing a minute to recover. Fortunately for them, they would have one afforded to them by a now gigantified Gene to take all the Suffering’s hits for them, while Blazermate, having returned at some point, held down the perimeter with the help of her striker, Ratchet, Bowser’s wizard, and a skeleton that showed up out of nowhere and started shooting down the horde with lightning. To say the least, the situation had developed at a staggering rate while they weren’t looking. The monk, demon slayer, and even his driver, were keen on taking advantage of this, brutally dispatching the remaining demon and leaving what was left of the horde masterless once more. The duo were slower to act, missing the opportunity to contribute to the action; not that their contribution was needed, and it didn’t bother Banjo in the slightest.

During the short period of respite between the battle’s end and resuming their trip, the duo went to recover their vehicle that they had abandoned mid-fight (again) to set everything back up on it as needed before takeoff, collecting a stock of stray red feathers while they were at it. A shame they would miss the opportunity to get acquainted with their friendly volunteer ally, Mr. Bones, for he and his traveling companion--who, even from a distance, harbored a foreboding air about him--were just as ready as Nero to get going. Though, looking at the shorter skeleton, despite having no basis for believing it, the bear and bird couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow supposed to have met by now… or that they would eventually see him again.

Shortly after the skellies set off, Nero and crew did the same, only in opposing directions. Following closely, ‘safely’ behind the van would be everyone who wasn’t piled into it, which really just left Banjo, Kazooie and Kamek. With the trolley now free of Blazermate’s creations (except the teleporter?), vacant space was left in the bed that the wizard saw fit to take full advantage of, rapidly stockpiling it with a gathered assortment of loot, junk, and rubbish gained from destroyed spirits, and in so doing, impeding the driver’s view yet again.

Upon arriving at the cathedral, Nero went ahead of the others to investigate, stopping just short of fully entering the area where it stood to caution them against advancing just yet. Although, they lacked Nero’s instinct for identifying or dealing with the demonic, Banjo and Kazooie knew an impending boss battle when they saw one; the atmosphere was usually a dead giveaway. Either way, whatever the demon hunter saw was enough to give him a moment’s pause, and that alone was worth heeding. He then advised the party to take whatever time he would afford them to rest, medicate, and resupply as needed before going any further.

---

Following the demon hunter’s example, Banjo approached the statue, placing a hand on it, and him and Kazooie closed their eyes…

Their conscious visual awareness was taken to a heavenly backdrop on which a list of their moves--those unlocked and yet to be--were displayed with looping demonstrations for each of them.

“Check it out, Kazooie; all of our old moves are in here…”

The slightly surprising development of the statue working at all with them prompted Kazooie to open one eye halfway and cast a shifty glance sideways in both directions to verify her unaltered corporeal surroundings before dropping down into the dark of her pocket/storage space where she could better concentrate on the ethereal vision.

“Uh… almost. Where are the rest?” Kazooie added, noting the conspicuous absence of a certain few of their techniques.

“Huh… I wonder why they’re not showing up,” Banjo wondered while observing the same. After nearly a minute of further inspection, they would conclude that the absentee moves were tied to those on display that acted as prerequisites for them, such as Beak Bomb and everything following Split-up.

“Well, let’s at least get this back,” Kazooie piped up, alluding to Beak Buster. “We should have already had it by now anyway.” She may have been onto something. The system at work seemed to agree with her, given the triple-digit price point, making it the least expensive on the list.

“Erm… okay. How are we going to pay for it? We’re basically broke, last I checked.”

“With that...” ‘That’ being Red Orbs, indicated by a counter in the corner that, surprisingly, wasn’t resting at zero, contrary to their initial assessment. In fact, it just barely broke the quadruple-digit margin.

“Strange. I don’t remember us picking up any of that… and what is that, anyway?” Banjo, rightly confounded by the finding, speculated on how they could have come across the necessary currency, as well as what constituted such.

“Demon blood... I-I think,” Kazooie conjectured half hesitantly as she tried not to overstep her awareness with informed assumptions she had no reason to make. “Must’ve stepped in some along the way…” While oversimplifying it out of ignorance, Kazooie wasn’t exactly wrong. It would be easy to miss or ignore the crystallized essence falling from slain demons in the heat of battle for anyone who isn’t looking for it. Without understanding its value or knowing it had any, why would they be?

“Eugh. I could’ve done without hearing that,” Banjo declared, forming the wrong mental picture as he backtracked his memory to make sense of their gains. Shaking the thought from his mind, he returned his focus to the envisioned storefront of lost techniques and opted for the only one they could afford at present; Beak Buster. Upon confirming their purchase, another move--Bill Drill--appeared on the list with an accompanying preview right below the newly acquired one, confirming their suspicion about prerequisite unlocks. Satisfied and spent, they withdrew from the statue with scant enough orbs to bother Nico with. Physically manifested, it would barely amount to enough in size to match a dainty faberge egg, so rather than try to haggle and stretch their buck, they decided to kick back and put their feet up (figuratively, in Kazooie’s case) while they spent the remainder of their allotted preparatory time relaxing before the upcoming fight.

---

As the party proceeded up the steps leading into the plaza, the duo could almost hear that familiar ominous tune that preluded their past boss battles. The great tree creaked, cracked and moaned to life at Nero’s provocation, and with a mighty bellow, the non-diegetic music cut off, and the battle was officially underway. Banjo initially joined Gene in fending off the Hollows while others went to work on the Ent. Putting the thus far underutilized cricket bat to use, he held off their armed offense with his own, cracking a few of them in half with broad and narrow side alike, but it otherwise showed that he was unpracticed and unstyled in the use of melee weapons. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be on crowd control duty for long, as Kamek and Blazer quickly saw fit to relieve them of it, clearing the way for them to advance on the Ent itself.

Just as they started to approach, it lifted its arms above its head in anticipation for what the duo correctly guessed to be a radial ground-based attack, and responded accordingly by flipping over the shockwave while they continued forward. At the peak of their jump, a green, coin-shaped platform depicting an avian talon spawned beneath Kazooie’s feet, and they were held suspended in the air for a moment before launching high above the now hunched over treant, emerald sparks accenting their ascent. Kazooie flapped her wings to drift them closer toward the creature and position them directly above the glowing red weak point on its back that Blazermate had identified for them. Then, in defiance of physical law, the two inverted, tucked, and went into a forcibly accelerated freefall in which they instantly achieved terminal velocity, straight down, beak-first onto the Ent’s soft spot.

When Nero followed their example, they were glad to have bounced off on impact and not been in his way while he savagely whaled on the creature, but his fruitful assault didn’t go unpunished. With the last hit of his combo, he was sent from the treant’s back with an explosive discharge of toxic pink ichor that left him helplessly sick on the ground, unable to move. While others rushed to his aid, Banjo and Kazooie began Trotting evasively around the clouds of Rot left by the Ent’s bombardment and away from the Warts chased them with threat of the very same infection that ailed the demon hunter. They would try to draw them close enough to Blazermate’s sentry and through Kamek’s fireball volley to dispatch the diseased pests without having to risk themselves unnecessarily by dealing with them directly. Should they manage to shake them, they would double back towards the living tree, bounding over the second shockwave…

Where Jak went high, they would go low for its feet, where it--and no one else--was aiming. The red, venous cracks in its ankle stumps gave a similar, if lesser impression of weakness to the spot on its back, so while it was busy defending itself from Jak above, they would hit it from below where it (hopefully) wasn’t looking. Charging in out of Talon Trot, the bear and bird reared back and slammed into the treant’s feet with a running Beak Barge, trying their best to keep their momentum going forward with minimal loss. While creature was provenly made of tougher stuff, and would likely take more than one hit from them to topple it, the duo would try to see if they couldn’t put enough weight into their strike to ram at least one of its shins to splinters, trying for both if they could manage.

World of Light

feat.

GM

@Lugubrious

Level: 4 (12 -> 15/40)
Location: Forest Temple
Word Count: 1759 (+3 EXP)

The familiar sung expression of gratitude from the orange fire spirits that passed for a death throe and marked the dissipation of their flames confirmed Hat Kid’s initial suspicion of a repeat trial, and with her curiosity satisfied, she pressed on through the blue door to the next room, where another test surely awaited her. Within, she found herself momentarily entranced by the soothing, if inauthentic depiction of space--her ‘true’ home. The familiar visual made her feel a touch more at ease in her otherwise unwelcoming surroundings. Though, she didn’t linger gazing at artificial stars for long before bringing her attention downward to the actual point of interest.

The hollow reverberations of her tiny footfalls upon the glass plane that separated her from the isles beneath it filled the chamber as she paced about, examining the curious scene below. A single mountain (the tallest of them) protruded through the floor from the center of living tropical diorama, and atop its peak, instructions inscribed in stone were laid out for the child. After carefully reading them over, she followed them to a T, hovering her hand over the black mass--the ‘ritual’--as per the first step.

At the kid’s provocation, the black orb hatched like an egg, giving forth a luminous entity like a great golden snake with a smooth black head. From the moment of its inception, the Breath -ever in motion- circled around a point directly below its creator’s hand. In the strange, lustrous world beneath the glass, this thing would be the child’s avatar--a deity made miniature.

Her eyes followed the ritual entity as it traced around the map with every movement of her palm. Sure enough, it was bound to her, ready to carry out her commands, which started with testing the extent of its ability to ‘shape the land’. After a minute of trial, she found that it largely involved simply gathering and redistributing the existing material, but being unable--as far as she could tell--to create any new material, dramatically alter what was already there, or even mold it into a refined shape. She found out as much when her childish mind prompted her to try building a sand castle only for her attempts to falter as the loose accumulation of soil fell into a formless mound. No matter what shape or motion she made with her hands, the outcome remained unchanged, and the elements would not fully obey her, much to her disappointment. She pursed her lips to one side and nodded her head at the underwhelming development that made her wonder if what she was controlling was really much of a deity, because it didn’t exactly feel like it. Just as well, it would be better that she take her new godly responsibilities seriously.

Turning her attention back to the matter at hand, Hat Kid wiped over the map above the sandy mound she had built up to flatten it out into a traversable bridge of land for the water-locked villagers to safely pass over.

“Over here!” She signaled to the tribespeople to make their way to the flooded totem while she began to ‘scoop’ water from the pool it sat in, leaving just enough around for them to supply their resettlement unimpeded. It was equal parts unclear and unlikely that they could actually hear her order or in any way perceive her at all, but they needed only follow the beacon--their god--encircling the structure to know what to do next.

Sure enough, the villagers followed the Breath as it crafted for them a bridge to new land. They waited for the sandbar to take shape, then crossed the span in small groups. Those first among them reached the second totem just as the Breath finished clearing away the water. Mimicking their god, they surrounded the totem in a circle, and a new ritual commenced. Chanting resounded beneath the glass, and prongs extended from the earth. Entire buildings soon emerged from the sand, rising upward on their stilts, until a circle of them arose to form a village around the monolith. Plant life began to spread immediately, blanketing the new island even as greenery spread across the bridge from the old. Correspondingly, the green meter above the glass rose.

There was something slightly fascinating about seeing greenery manifest beneath the villagers’ feet to gradually spread out and recolor the once barren sand as far as it reached, all simply as the result of their arrival and subsequent prayer at the totem. It was as if where life went, life would flourish and follow, and where life was absent, life would go to create life. While the process at work didn’t make too much logical sense by itself, Kid came unusually close to a thoughtful philosophical realization of some kind that might reconcile the idea. The partially filled gauge on the tablet was more easily explained. It served as a clear indicator of her progress for one of her objectives: to revitalize the land. By the looks of it, she still had a good ways to go.

Plantlife’s grip reached only as far as the beginning of the stone isthmus that stretched out across the sea to the west, an infrequently-connected archipelago. Enough sand existed to bridge the gaps, but creatures like enormous horseshoe crabs dotted those islands. On the other side of the broken isthmus lay a third, much larger island with varied terrain. A few great mounds of sand dotted its surface, and upon a high bluff stood a carved stone inscribed with crashing waves.

A keen eye could spot worried body language given off by the villagers. Their elderly shaman watched the sea, restless.

Little by little, Kid started redistributing soil by the ‘handful’ to reconnect the isles so that the plants and people may continue to cross them, putting forth a little extra effort to carve out a taller trenched path that steered manageably clear of giant crustacean territory to keep the churning waters off of the villagers, and keep them out of the waters. On that note, the noticeable increase in the tidal fluctuations had the people feeling uneasy. She looked to the sea in the same direction as the shaman, but could see nothing yet. S/he somehow knew something that the child didn’t, even with her superior perspective view of their world. The runic monolith atop the bluff struck her as a clue, and perhaps held the solution to the yet unforeseen (by her) problem they were about to have. Obviously, she couldn’t do anything with it herself, so she directed a small party of around three or four able-bodied villagers uphill to investigate.

The villagers approached the totem warily. Two of the three men studied it from a distance, but the last approached to run his hands along the deliberate grooves. At first it looked as though he merely felt the thing, but after a few moments the deftness with which he navigated the curves and contours spoke of some sort of deeper understanding. Another minute went by before he stepped away, but he did not leave empty-handed. The runes on the stone glowed with soft white radiance, wafting into the air around it. Bit by bit, the squiggles fashioned themselves into floating words.

Ancient...knowledge...recovered

Ritual of Repel Water

An ill wind was blowing. It whipped the sea, turning it turbulent, and bit at the dunes of sand. Enough blew from the hilly isle to expose the very top of an ivory-white shape, the hidden third totem. Even with very little sky in the world beneath the glass, the landscape grew stormier and stormier. Behind Hat Kid, on the mountain plinth that gave her instruction, runic characters appeared in the air.

1:30

Then, second by second, the counter ticked down.

Yeah… that didn’t look good. It seemed the people were correct in their fearful prediction of the weather. The atmosphere went murky with obscuring grey storm mist, and even without being able to feel it, Kid could tell it was getting harder to stand up down there with the sudden increase in wind speed. On the bright side, it was at least nice enough to reveal the next objective to her… and wait for the villagers finish exploring before counting down to disaster. The bad news was she didn’t have long to prepare for whatever was coming. All she knew was that the village needed the newly acquired knowledge, like, NOW, so she ordered the scouting party to hurry back as quickly as they could (or quicker) so that they may begin their preparations to perform the ritual.

Meanwhile, Hat Kid would start unearthing the next totem and laying the soil in a perimeter around the village island as high as it would go to help hold off the waves somewhat, taking care not to bury any of the villagers while she was at it. Once she was done digging a great dip around the third structure down to its base, she would cut a relief ditch into one of its edges to allow the inevitable floodwaters to flow downhill (away from civilization, of course). After that, all she could do was wait for nature to take its turn and hope for a miracle to save the village…

Something came, but it wasn’t a miracle. As if given some invisible signal, the waters began to recede. Large amounts of sandy seabed laid itself plain to view, unlucky fish flopping in the muck. Then, from the southeast edge of the map, a wave rolled in. It grew higher and higher, five, ten, twenty times as tall as a human. The villagers, under order of the Breath, gathered around the perimeter of their village in a circle, locking hands. A chant began, its voices nervous but swelling in strength as desperation clutch the villagers’ hearts. The rampaging tsunami bore down on them, dark as pitch and taller than the tallest trees. It swept over Hat Kid’s physical defenses like they were nothing and crashed against the village, but instead of sending it to the abyss, it broke as though against an invisible dome. Thousands of proportional tons of water washed around the village, inches from the outermost huts, held back by only faith and unity. Another minute passed before the floodwaters began to subside, dwindling until the shaken villagers could breathe easy once again.

Hat Kid felt the villagers’ desperation as her own as she watched with increasingly heavy, nervous breath as the sea threw itself at the island, set to consume it in its entirety. She bit the collar of her sweater nervously while she helplessly chased the ever enlarging wave with narrowed eyes, her atypical anxiety growing with it the closer it came to the settlement--both out of fear of failure as well as an inkling of underlying compassion for those that counted on her. When positive change didn’t come soon enough, she equipped her ergokinetic cap, inhaled sharply, and reared back a charged, unsteady fist, ready to act dramatically in likely futility as if she could affect the world below from where she was. Before she could throw energy she didn’t know how to effectively use at the problem, however, she saw that she wouldn’t need to. Her expression and stance loosened immediately upon seeing the mountainous tide split to pass around the village and spare its people. Talk about a moving display of prayer and song. With the storm subsided, the sea level normalized, and the village safe from it all, Kid, too, was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Still, there was work to be done before everyone could celebrate another day of continued life. Hat Kid checked the map from the currently settled totem to the next for any damage to the path between them to rectify as needed before sending the villagers on their way. As much as she would rather not rush them along, there was no telling if or when another event like that would sneak up on them, so for the sake of all, extended delays could not be afforded. Once Kid was done on her end smoothing out the trail for them, she left the beacon to rest at the next totem and sent the people on their way.

Just one island remained in between Hat Kid’s dominion and the elusive gate beyond. North of the sandy -now soggy- island, connected by a long stretch of shallows, lay a volcanic atoll. Cooled lava formed a good amount of exposed stone, enough to take intrepid travelers all the way to the atoll’s opposite side. However, the stone wall eroded over the eons sported a sizeable hole in the center, and every minute or so the crashing waves rushed through it to sweep across the landbridge. Barely any earth bespoiled the place, though a steadily-flowing volcano still remained.

Upon attempting it, Kid found out she couldn’t use the Breath to carve away stone, so shaving off a section of the volcano’s rim to strategically redirect lava flow into the ocean was out. No matter. She was still perfectly capable of directing the entity to the crater to gather the necessary raw material to patch the hole in the dam herself; it just made for a slightly less satisfying solution. Although, rather than correcting thousands of years of damage right away, she figured she could let it help her out with some additional roadwork first. She halted the villagers’ advance no less than ten meters from the area affected by the waves and began collecting full spheres of molten rock to lay down flat over the partially sunken path, allowing the periodic tide to cool and harden the primitive asphalt with every other pass. Though, she couldn’t do anything to smoothen the newly paved road, the villagers would now have solid, reinforced footing above the water to tread to the other end of the atoll. With that finished, Kid proceeded to pull from the same resource pool to fill in the gap in the wall left over by the passage of time, waiting for a moment to check the quality of her work (i.e. structural stability) before giving the villagers the go-ahead to press on.

The child’s braininess made short work of the final obstacle. With the waves’ onslaught blocked by her freshly-cooled wall of rock, her villagers forged onward. They reached the end of the atoll in moments, and ahead of them, a natural incline led right up to the gateway. While the Kid worked, her plants had continued to spread, and by the time her villagers were ready the gauge was full and the doorway had come open. Particles streamed into it in a black whirlpool, which came off as more than a little menacing, but Hat Kid’s goal remained before her nonetheless. The people had braved (for them) a great deal already under her watch; she wasn’t about to let a spooky door to who knows where--that she was supposed to reach anyways--stop her just shy of achieving her goal. Without delay, She ushered the villagers onward through the gateway...

The villagers disappeared inside, and the world beneath the glass began to darken. A new light came on as the ocean faded away: a spotlight highlighting the mountain where she’d received her instructions. Before her eyes, the land turned to sand and blew away. In its place was left a painting of a villager on the beach, holding a staff to the sky as a tsunami rose to the right and a volcano blew to the left.

When the land, sea, and sky began to fade into pitch nothingness, Hat Kid sauntered over to the dissolving mountain where the key to her true objective lay beneath its surface. After the last grain of sand fell, the painting stood, unsupported, beneath to lone light, waiting to be claimed. Smiling wide, the child took the painting by the trim in both hands, observing it for a second like a prize she had just received before heading for the chamber’s exit. Even without the artificial light that led her in before, she would have no trouble finding her way out… and on to her remaining objectives...

World of Light

Level: 2 (19 -> 21/20) LEVEL UP! ---> 3 (1/30)
Location: Charnal Lane, Dead Zone
Word Count: 827 (+2 EXP)

(Level up pending…)

Following the Tank’s defeat, Nero’s order, and his preceding admonishment of Gene and the royal quartet, the crew set off for the nearest of three Qliphoth roots that they were presumably set to take out. Nothing like the Rule of Three to make that much obvious. They wouldn’t be back on course for long before being forced to reroute around a kilometer wide, zombie infested sinkhole apparently formed from the explosive overgrowth of Hell-born flora. It was equally likely that this was but an incidental setback on the way to their objective or a machination of living demonic will set on hindering them. Either way, the coerced detour took them through a sizable strip of ruined memorial parkland that lay at the eastern edge of the province bordering space itself. Truth be told, it was closer to a grave field than graveyard, which, in a city dominated by demons, undead, and who knows what else, made it the place to be… to guarantee running into trouble.

Of course, there were zombies--some new--but they alone weren’t the real problem. Just when Nero was expecting things to be too easy, a more honest threat announced itself in the form of a hulking four-armed demon as it busted out of the doors of a weathered tomb to take control of the horde, followed in short order by an identical second of its like to ambush the demon hunter and his companion, knocking the van headlong into the abyss with Nico still inside. Thankfully, they were both fast in the ways they needed to be, lest she go on an unplanned voyage through the cosmos, but Nero wasn’t quite strong enough on his own to drag the vehicle from the cliff’s edge safely back to solid ground. He could only manage to hold the van aloft, which required all the strength and attention he could spare, leaving him helpless to defend himself. For the moments that followed, he could now consider himself lucky for having brought help along with him on his mission.

Ratchet and Gene went to work whittling away the encroaching horde, keeping them at bay while the monk assisted Nero with recovering/stabilizing the van, and Jak broke away to engage one of the demons one-on-one. This still left the other Suffering unoccupied; a fact that the duo saw fit to change. With Blazermate absently indisposed, Banjo was back at the ‘wheel’, running and batting down undead as he sped toward the demon, and bounded from his kart the second he came within range, leaving the Trolley and everything on it haphazardly parked wherever it stopped. The duo soared in, diving toward the Suffering as Kazooie spent their last three eggs shots before Banjo flipped forward and came down on the beast with wide overhead punch to its head. They hit the ground and immediately left it with a Flap Flip into Wing Whack, and while keeping their momentum going, Banjo slung his backpack upward in a radial arch, completing two rotations to drag his partner’s spinning wings like and elastic buzzsaw across the creature’s chest and face.

The duo’s agility and repeated blows stung the demon, but they lacked stopping power. With a grunt, the Suffering used its two left arms to yank itself sideways, pivoting as it did. The maneuver put it into a perfect position to attack Banjo and Kazooie as they were landing from their attack, and it swept its rights at them with force enough to send them skipping like a rock through a couple or yards of headstones and into the mausoleum that the creature broke from earlier. Banjo impacted with one of the four lantern posts that surrounded it, bending it into a ‘く’ shape and knocking loose two lengths of chain that connected them. The Suffering charged after them in pouncing, animalistic strides, intent on smashing the bear and bird into the stonework until Gene’s taunts drew its aggression away from them. They were lucky for this. If the demon could bat them aside that easily, they weren’t going to be of much use against it by themselves.

Perhaps demon killing was better left to professionals, but said professional was still busy needing help saving his friend, they noticed. Banjo picked himself back up, yanked the chains down from their remaining anchor points, crudely tied them back together in the middle, made wide loops at both ends, and sprinted for the van, twisting into Talon Trot to let Kazooie take over the legwork while he hauled a roll of chain in each hand. As they approached, Kazooie leapt running onto and from the Suffering’s back, and Banjo, still airborne, turned to lasso one of the chain loops around the demon wherever it would find purchase. He hit the ground sliding, throwing the other loop over the wheel around the rear axle before stopping himself against the van’s side just shy of the ledge. Finding his grip on the bottom of the vehicle’s frame with both hands, he grit his teeth and began exerting himself to assist the demon hunter in dragging the van from peril. With enough effort, Banjo’s strength alone could probably suffice without the need to attach a towline to the demon, but it didn’t hurt their chances to trick an enemy into helping correct a problem they caused.

World of Light

Level: 4 (10 -> 12/40)
Location: Forest Temple
Word Count: 1220 (+2 EXP)

(In collaboration with @Lugubrious)

Hat Kid’s chosen path took her straight through a mostly empty hall into an apparent dead end at a barren hollow, where all that awaited her within was a trio of small, lethargic trolls and an inexplicably functional conveyor belt brick oven that didn’t look like it belonged there. In fact, the scene itself seemed out of place for being within an eerie haunted manor-esque temple; a surprise it wasn’t something creepier or more dangerous. The creatures appeared to be harmless enough when, upon noticing the child enter, one of them begged only that she make pizza for him, but logically, the request didn’t make sense at first. They had the means to ‘make’ whatever they wanted (as long as they wanted nothing else) right there in the same room with them; what stopped them getting up and using the machine themselves? Were they really just that lazy; didn’t know how to operate it; couldn’t reach the buttons; some combination of all three? Furthermore, how--by his companion’s testimony--could he only want something specific without knowing specifically what he wanted? Again, this was something he probably could have figured out on his own if he actually tried. As unnecessarily frustrating as the idea was when thought about like that, the task she was given sounded simple enough to fulfill without fuss, as she was otherwise unlikely to get any answers or clues out of them regarding what to do next.

She walked up to the machine to inspect the options displayed on its side, easily arriving at her initial conclusion after but a moment of thought. She knew it to be a near universal fact (having traveled much of the old universe, which provided an oddly supportive consensus) that pineapple was a relatively unpopular choice of pizza topping. A ‘picky eater’ was statistically unlikely to relish the idea, and might similarly reject the inclusion of crisp greens, ruling out bell peppers. She was less sure of the latter, but still considered it a safe gamble to proceed as intended with a simple two-topping of mushroom and sausage. From the bottom up, she jumped to press every button short of peppers to produce the desired combination before moving around to the front of the hut to catch the pie as it shot out and run it over to the waiting troll.

The machine expelled a fully-made, fully-cooking, thoroughly-impossible pizza from the horn at the top with a burping noise, but a quick reposition from the kid allowed her to catch it before it hit the ground. Arno watched with hungry eyes as she approached and handed him the pizza, and he took it from her greedily. As he looked it over, however, and sniffed it, his face turned from eagerness into revulsion. “Eugh! Some of that stuff is yuck!” Shuffling over, he lifted the pizza above his head and cast it into a shallow pit.

Hat Kid’s default smile straightened out with an expression of taken aback confusion at Arno’s rude and wasteful rejection, voicing his disgust with ”some” of what he was given. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with what about the presented dish he didn’t like, but her guess was the mushrooms; he probably didn’t like the texture. With this in mind, she returned to the oven to repeat the process with one less step, this time omitting the mushrooms and returning with a revised product.

Upon its reception, Arno let out a thoughtful, “Hmm…” Clearly, nothing about this pizza turned him off, but something in the twist of his mouth and the dark of his eyes told Hat Kid he wasn’t quite satisfied. After a couple seconds of consideration, he finally said, “More toppings.” With that, he waddled over to the rock he’d been resting on and set the new pizza upon it, perhaps saving it -an admissible but inferior offering- for later.

The half acceptance of the newer product proved the child’s intuition correct, and brought her a step closer to figuring out what the troll wanted (and helping him to figure out the same). Moreover, it gave her the impression that this was definitely more of a test than a favor, but for what purpose, she could only speculate. So long as she could pass and press on with desirable expediency, it made no difference to her. She made another lap to the machine and pressed the bottom two buttons again before taking a second to consider what to add to it next. She had narrowed it down at this point to pineapple and/or bell pepper, sparing a thought for the former. Was sweet and spicy his flavor? Was he perhaps among the minority who liked a fruity ‘za? At this point, it couldn’t hurt to try, so she jumped on the machine, ran up its side to reach the top button, and slapped it to confirm her selection. Once produced, she caught the ejected dish mid-jog and promptly raced it over to its finicky recipient.

Her proffered pizza received just a single look from Arno before the troll hurled it into the reject pit. “Something must go!” he proclaimed, before turning to look back at Hat Kid with an impatient expression. Crossing his twig arms, he began to tap his foot.

The spindly troll saw this and chuckled. “Ooh, he’s starting to get angry. Better figure out what he wants.”

Figures she should have stuck with her initial instinct: not to trust pineapple. That’d be the last time she trusted to possibility of a minority selection to please. Regardless, she finally had her answer. All she had to do now was replace pineapple with bell pepper and she will have fulfilled the troll’s oblique request… hopefully. She moved to make the necessary modifications and tried once more.

Arno’s face lit up at the sight of it. “The perfect pizza! Gimme gimme gimme!” He reached out his little arms, but he’d be hard pressed to take it from the far more agile kid if she didn’t want to give it unconditionally, which she, of course, didn’t. She took one step back and held out a halting hand, bearing a semi-stern expression. She didn’t work for free! She would need something for her trouble; instructions on next steps would suffice. In accordance with her demands, she quietly explained through gesture non-specific word that she needed to move forward through the dungeon, allowing them to fill in the blanks on how she might do that.

With a confused look, Arno shrugged. “Look, I dunno how this place works. All I know’s pizza. If you want, you can have that painting. It’s not ours. Willa can get it for you. Just give me that pizza, please!” The troll dropped to his knees, a full half-inch less of height, and held up his hands to receive Hat Kid’s creation.

Looking up at the aforementioned painting, it became clear to her what she was supposed to do. There could be no doubt that it wasn’t a coincidence. The difference this time being that the three trolls--who were all depicted in the painting--weren’t trapped inside of it. They were luckier than they realized, in part for not realizing why. Reasonably satisfied with her answer, she happily relinquished the pizza unto the pleading creature, gently setting it down into his open palms before sauntering over to collect her reward.

The thin troll, evidently Willa, had gotten to her feet. Putting her hands on her ‘hips’, she told the kid, “You know, all that logic’s made me hungry. Tell you what: get me a pizza too, and I’ll knock the painting down for you.”

In between gigantic bites of pizza, Arno guffawed. “Hah! Good luck. She never likes anything I like.”

At the lady troll’s added request, Hat Kid stopped mid-stride just shy of her forward foot touching the ground, her expression and mood lowering almost unnoticably as the obvious frustration of an unexpected delay caused a hairline crack to form in her psyche. She would normally just take the painting down herself, but it was too high for her to reach with no means of climbing to it. Begrudgingly, she silently agreed to serve the taller she-troll, since she was apparently at her mercy. Luckily, Arno helped rule out the previous combination right away. Rather than jumping straight to a guessed combo, she would play the field more carefully by working her way up again, starting with mushrooms only.

With a spirit a touch lower than before Hat Kid presented the mushroom-only, cheese-devoid pizza to Willa. Immediately, the troll accepted the pizza, saying, “My compliments to the chef! You really know your stuff.”

Already done with his meal, Arno gaped. “What? You got hers first try and you took so long to make mine!?”

Laughing, Willa held the pizza in one arm as she walked over to the cave wall and punched it. The entire room shook, and the painting fell to the ground with a clatter. For a moment the third troll looked as though he might join in, but instead he waddled over the painting to present it to Hat Kid with a smile. “C-come again sometime! We d-do like seeing people, really. Maybe if there was a way out of this p-place…” With Shyler’s gift, the pizza puzzle had been solved.

Both surprised and relieved with her first answer being the correct one, even with the uncommon omission of cheese (a lucky mistake on her part), Hat Kid accepted Willa’s compliment, playing along by miming a proud mustache stroke. Obviously, she didn’t actually have one (that was a different girl), but to her, it fit the visualized stereotype of her new title ‘Chef’. She then ceased her clowning and went to retrieve the painting from the third troll, who had no request of his own, but expressed an understandable desire to leave. Her eyes moved from him, to the exit, back to him, then she pointed a thumb to the exit as an implicit signal to follow her out. If they chose to heed her command, they would see just how much easier it was to leave than they seemed to think. Either way, Kid would head back into the central chamber to throw the painting into the encircling flame, sparing a few following seconds waiting expectantly to make sure the orange flames disappeared before moving on. By this time, the two grown men from before had arrived, previously unbeknownst to her. Whether she would return in time to encounter them, or they had come and gone by then, she would make her way into the blue-lit room next.

World of Light

Level: 4 (8 -> 10/40) | 2 (18 -> 19/20)
Location: Land of Adventure - Forest Temple? | Dead Zone - Redgraccoon City
Word Count: 889 (+2 EXP) | 673 (+1 EXP)

Item: Cricket Bat
Power: Breegull Blaster

Although not the most expeditious, Hat Kid’s ride south went smoothly, the gradual change in the landscape challenging her too little to affect that for her. The closest she came to a hiccup in her trip was when she found herself having to steer well wide of an enormous, scary-looking gorilla about as big as Bowser (when he wanted to be), but beside the occasional fauna, she spotted no other signs of life along the way. As far as she could tell, she was completely alone; she almost always was, so it was fine with her. It was good to have as little competition as possible, as thus far appeared to be the case.

After a while, her marker led her to a forest clearing at the southwestern edge of the province that bore no defined path inward but nonetheless formed an entrance that would be hard to mistake for accidental. The trail ended some ways in at an aged man-made entrance draped with overgrowth and tucked away amidst a couple of bare trees beneath a stone ceiling, which suggested something about its construction while raising questions about how anything grew there. For whatever reason, the door was left cracked by whoever went through it last, but it may not have been because they were leaving in a hurry. Her hat’s waypoint pointed inside still, with her Compass Badge attesting to the same, meaning whoever (or at least whatever) she was looking for lay further in. With her heading confirmed, she proceeded through, cracking the door once more and leaving her moped parked on the steps.

The interior of the first room was even more dense with un/natural growth, which made even less sense. The trees that closed the space in were thick enough to leave virtually no space between them. Even a bite-sized adolescent like herself would be hard-pressed to hazard fitting through the cracks, a gamble she might honestly prefer to sharing vine space with the giant spider that occupied it. It appeared to have hollowed out the decaying corpse of its last victim that now played host to it; something a child could have gone without seeing in person. Unless she felt like dealing with a parasitic arachnid (which she didn’t), taking where the stairs used to be was out.

She instead ascended the right totem and jumped to the adjacent tree fungus that made for an oddly serviceable foothold. Unfortunately, the distance from there to the next door was just too far for her to clear without coming dangerously close to the spider, but while she was there, she decided to check the pots around her for anything useful, only to end up accidentally nudging one from its perch. She nervously winced at her error when the sound of the brittle clay receptacle shattering against the floor rang out through the chamber at the risk of drawing the creature’s attention; this did give her an idea, however. If the spider approached, she would hang back in the shadow of the tree and wait for it to inspect the broken pottery before tossing another from cover to the closer corner of the back wall to draw it farther away. She would then carefully circumnavigate the room by platforming across the totems and other mushrooms, leaping and diving to the trunktop on the other side.

She aimed to be out of that room and into the next as quickly as possible, but found a second of momentary pause at the door when she failed budge it initially. Then with a firm push, the round, runic slab slid into place and all but wheeled itself out of the way, allowing the child ingress into the next chamber. Her eyes were drawn almost immediately to the center by the revolving glow of chromatic fire, and between them, her objective. The girl she was sent to find lay unconscious within the walls of flames that formed from the sconces and stood between her and the relatively easy fulfillment of her verbal contract… or so it would seem.

The child attempted to bound over flaming barrier, but as if possessing its own will to impede her, the phantasmal fires rose to hold her at bay. Strangely, it neither formed a solid surface for her to make contact against, nor did it burn her for trying. For all it amounted to, it may as well have been an invisible wall. She’d experienced this exact effect before, the remembrance of which prompted her to more carefully observe her surroundings. It was then she noticed that torchlight shone on the nearest corresponding corridor, clueing her in on how to solve the problem before her. Though, there was presently no clear deduction she could make as far as what the colors might represent or what order to do them in, but it did bear a haunting similarity to the Fire Spirits in Subcon Forest. If they were at all the same, they would each require a relatively simple condition be satisfied (that probably involved paintings, but there was no reason to assume that). All that was left was for her to decide which one to do first, and with little else to base her decision on, she drew from her last experience with this to make her choice… by starting with the orange one.

---

Neither of them really knew what to expect from itemizing the Smoker spirit, but the duo were nonetheless surprised, if unmoved by the result. From the destroyed soulmass a worn cricket bat materialized in Banjo’s hand, which alone took up the entire handle, so using it wouldn’t extend his reach by much. At any rate, melee weapons were largely foreign to the two of them, having never felt much of a need for them, but there was a chance that it might prove useful to them later. It was no multi-level, self-igniting greatsword outfitted with a combustion engine or anything...

With nothing left around for them to test their new bat on, Banjo tucked it away into his pack for later. Looking around at the now near empty scene that was but just seconds ago crawling with undead (and a pinch of hellspawn), there must not have been many heroes in the area. If there was, it would otherwise be hard to believe that they just left so many of these creatures alive (relatively speaking), given how quickly their small team was able to change that. Maybe all the other heroes were just busy… or in a hurry. The present heroes soon had that much in common as the demon hunter ushered them onward to aid the ‘boy band’ from before, who were currently in the middle of battling a heavier, stronger, muscular variant of zombie. Nero drew its attention off of the four boys the moment it entered his line of fire, outreaching that of Blazermate’s turret until she saw fit to drive it closer.

With Blazer in the driver’s seat, Banjo and Kazooie rode shotgun in their own vehicle while they moved up the street. This freed them to join in helping the others lay down fire on the massive Infected. Taking a seat at the rightmost edge of the Trolley, Banjo drew Kazooie from his backpack, brandishing her like a firearm, mimed the pump action of a shotgun, and let loose a six round volley of accelerated blue orbs, erm... eggs, to pile on to the damage the creature was already sustaining. The closer the kart got to the massive zombie with the turret and seat gunner/s going to work on it, the more they drew its ire, and the clearer it became that they were doing little more than further aggravating it as it charged them head-on like a gorilla, undeterred. Thankfully, the Koopa Prince, who warped in unexpectedly while no one was looking, picked this as a good time to warp back before anyone had to explain anything to his dad.

Seeing that they weren’t going to give the roided beast any pause or stop it from ramming them, Banjo tucked and rolled out over the rail of the Trolley, forcefully thrusting both feet like a spring at the vehicle’s side in an attempt to knock it and himself out of the way. He wouldn’t move the kart by much, but perhaps it might tip enough to help Blazer and her machines avoid a direct hit, for a hit was guaranteed and their current speed and distance. The vehicle was sent flying, and with it, its occupants, and Banjo managed to quickly put Kazooie away before hitting the ground in a log roll. The two recovered prone, looking up to see the others picking up the slack to keep pressure on the Tank from on high and up close. From their grounded position, Banjo leapt forward on all fours (yes, like a bear) with Kazooie poking out of the backpack to spit their two remaining fire eggs at the brutish zombie. By this time, Nero had finished making his move against it, so the duo were unfortunately unaware of him having planted a bomb on it that was liable to explode in the faces of any one of their allies that were hacking or pummeling away at the monster if any of the flames were to touch it. So much for watching their friendly fire...

World of Light

Level: 4 (6 -> 8/40)
Location: Land of Adventure - Lumbridge -> Malo Mart
Word Count: 857 (+2 EXP)

What started as mere splotches and patches of green to enliven the otherwise barren terrain around it gradually gave way to lush, life-rich lands the further south the convoy traveled until it stretched out toward the horizon as far as they could see. They got an even better look at what awaited them in these plains of beginnings when Peach and gang decided to stop on top of a hill with a good view of it all. There was something inexplicably wondrous and uplifting about this place that brought a relieved smile out of Hat Kid. Then again, she was almost always smiling, but there was a better reason for it this time that couldn't be chalked up simply to her generally cheerful disposition. The sense of elation she felt just from being here was further elevated when receiving a signal she had been hoping for all day: her objective marker lit up, indicating something nearby, and it was on their way! Like that, she cut her sightseeing session short, started her scooter back up, and took off downhill forthwith in the direction of the town alongside the other more eager members of their party.

They were met at the gate by three who were assigned to keeping it: a teenage swordsman who’s coincidentally similar fashion sense Kid admired, a small mage about her size who acted as the trio’s mouthpiece, and a young mute swordsman barely older than her (if that). Linkle seemed ecstatic to meet the latter of the three, stumbling over her words and making everyone involved a little uncomfortable. Poor girl, only a day into their journey, and she was already starting to lose it. Who knew how much longer she would last at this rate. At least it didn’t hurt their chances as far as being approved for entry into town, and they were all soon cleared to do so on condition that they leave their vehicles parked outside the main entrance.

Hat Kid broke off from the group at the nearest opportunity to follow her hat’s waypoint into a general store. From the moment she pushed one of the doors open and took her first steps inside, her eyes were widely, wantingly affixed to one item in particular that sat (or rather floated) at the top shelf; something that had business being there, up for trade; a Time Piece. This made the first of several she would have to find again, and she was clearly happy to see its familiar aura and glow again, though it be diminished. She ceased her gawking when addressed by the remarkably diminutive shopkeeper, who was barely tall enough to see over the counter, nudging her to make a purchase. It was then when she finally took a cursory glance at the other items that she noticed the exclusion of a price tag on the only one she was truly interested in. A “quest reward,” he called it, instructing her to either hit the guild hall, or simply inquire him about the details. She, of course, opted for the second option, preferring to save herself a trip and cut out the middle man.

Her assignment: a missing persons case involving another client, apparently. Though, said client’s importance in the quest giver’s eyes may have been overstated slightly, with finding them being more or less relegated to being the optional objective. Stressed instead were the unspoken contents of her satchel, making it more retrieval than rescue mission. Sure enough, she should have little issue finding and recovering a valued key item; she was rather good at that. What bothered her, however, was the two professional criminals of their pack (or anyone, for that matter) taking up the same quest at the risk of cutting in on her much sought after reward.

It would have been unreasonable and uncharacteristic of her to openly object or complain about their prospect involvement, and thus refrained from doing so. She couldn’t fault them for not knowing better, after all, but she wasn’t exactly in a hurry to have to explain to them what they would be dealing with and why they shouldn’t, lest she further incentivize them. The best should could hope for was to beat them and whoever else may have accepted the mission ahead of her to it, which meant she didn’t have time to waste. She paused just short of stepping out of the door, shot a suspicious, determined glare halfway over her left shoulder toward the two men (without actually turning to look at them), and hurried outside before the store’s music drove her to insanity.

She hastened her trip back to the main gate with cap-assisted sprint and a few tumbling maneuvers with utterly cheerful disregard for any socially accepted conventions of public conduct, even leaping over the heads of a gruff-looking white-bearded mercenary and his fan club. She jumped to her scooter as soon as it came into view, started it up, switched hats, and headed south without hesitation toward her mission destination, where her new objective marker now guided her. With her compass still active, she would continue to periodically consult that as well.

World of Light

feat. @Archmage MC

Blazermate

Level: 2 (15 -> 18/20) | Lvl 5 0 ->3/50
Location: Dead Zone - Redgraccoon City
Word Count: 2458 (+3 EXP)

Learned Crafting/Engineering

(B-K level up pending…)

While the duo idly waited for the others to gather, they noticed--as it would be difficult not to--the builder bot setting up contraptions in the bed of their kart. The question of what the first one was answered itself with the help of a lesser Rabbid popping out of it… repeatedly, whereas the second was largely self-explanatory, obviously being an automated gun of some kind. The latter would no doubt come in handy to save them some of the work having to fight off whatever they run into while they drive, even if it did impede their frontal view somewhat. As she looked to lay down her third machine, she decided to strike up conversation with them for the first time since encountering one another, having not been formally introduced up to that point.

“Nice to meet you, Blazermate,” Banjo offered, returning her greeting. “I guess we’re doing okay. Thanks for helping us out back there, by the way.” Banjo had mostly forgotten about the events at the castle and their indirect involvement in them, and as Blazer had observed, they haven’t taken much of a hit since then. Thus, they’ve not needed her services and were otherwise unaware of what they were. To accompany her question to them about their reasons for diverging, she casually talked of “parts” and “upgrades” being her own.

“Why not do that here, then?” Kazooie suggested bluntly, referring to the fact that she was a machine about to leave a machine shop in search of practical self-improvement. “Wouldn’t that make more sense for you?”

“Oh hello Banjo.” Blazermate said at Banjo’s friendly greeting as she found a spot for her dispenser. As it built, she replied to Kazooie. “I’m a Medabot. Parts for me are a bit different than normal robots. For starters, nothing they had here was compatible with my medal, so it wouldn’t work.” Blazermate pointed to Din, who was heading off to the Land of Adventure “These spirits are compatible though! Heck, they’re even better than Medabot parts, as they let me fill slots that aren’t my arms, feet, or head. Not that I’d ever wanna give up such a cute face.” She said, striking a cute pose, which admittedly, was lessened because of her engineering overalls.

Kazooie did get Blazermate thinking, with the engineer soul inside her and her knowledge of being a medabot, why couldn’t she make her own upgrades? Even if they were only weapons she could hold, she had everything at her disposal in the form of scrap metal and a dispenser to craft things. And she hadn’t really given it a try, so she decided she would see what she could do when the dispenser was fully upgraded.

“How about you two? Are you looking forward to all the things spirits can do for you?” Blazermate said, her dispenser fully erected. All that was left for her to do now was upgrade it all the way, so she started hammering away at it with her fist, trying to keep the noise down so she could hear what everyone was saying.

“Y’know, I haven’t thought about it much, really,” Banjo replied. “This whole ‘spirits’ thing is kinda new to us. We didn’t even know about it until today.” Although they’ve been witness to plentiful demonstration of spiritual fusion within a matter of hours, they had yet to encounter any spirits that they could call dibs on that they would be okay with using, let alone one that would be suitable for them. That being said, it was hard to deny the apparent utility and appeal of them. Kazooie--envious of Din--would certainly agree.

“Hmm… Come to think of it, we too could use some ‘upgrades’ of our own,” Kazooie admitted. “Plus, it’d be nice to learn some new moves on top of our old ones… after we learn those again.” A tinge of frustration from her came out at the last part. Having to trek their way through a new, more perilous world with a fraction (or less) of their overall moveset carried over was certainly less than ideal, and they weren’t likely to run into someone who could ‘teach’ new techniques to them.

“As long we don’t have to steal them,” Banjo conceded. “I don’t wanna assimilate anyone who isn’t okay with it.” He was unsure how to work around the moral complications of the act, but understood the need to at the very least keep an open enough mind to entertain the idea, in recognition of their limitations. Time wouldn’t allow him to dwell on it before the new party were given their orders from the two leading them onward, setting off posthaste. The pair could put off contemplating the moral/philosophical implications of ‘spirit upgrades’ until such time as it became relevant or necessary for them to do so.

It didn’t take long for them to receive their first ominous sign that they were on the right track. A sheet of murky, unnatural cloud cover obscured the sun and sky the closer to the dead city they got, blanketing it under a false cover of night. Some ways down the road, after crossing over into the city limits, pre-mission discussion briefly resumed.

“So what is that you’re building, anyway?” Banjo inquired of the medabot, who had spent the entire drive working away diligently on her contraptions.

Blazermate listened to the pair talk as they drove, hammering away at her dispenser. The pair seemed to be at odds about what they wanted out of the spirits. Kazooie was right alongside Blazermate at getting upgrades, Banjo however was apprehensive. Seeing this, Blazermate said. “I’m glad I didn’t lose too many Medabot upgrades coming here. Only thing I’m missing right now is my heavy armored jet form. And to be honest, I rarely used that anyway. Don’t worry too much about the spirits Banjo. You only collect them from defeated enemies.”

Finishing upgrading her dispenser, Blazermate continued. “As for this, it’s a dispenser. It dispenses ammo and you can use it to craft stuff. It also heals anyone next to it. And as you guessed, the gun shoots things, and the teleporter… teleports people. Speaking of shooting people… Do you guys hear something up ahead?”

Ahead, zombies were outside the entrance to Redgraccoon City. As the cars whizzed past them, Blazermate’s Sentry beeped thrice in quick succession, before locking onto whatever zombie was near the automated gun and mowed it down with a barrage of bullets and rockets. Seeing as how these were standard zombies, the sentry made quick work of each one it could as the trolley drove by. “Haha, Man this thing is showing its worth, huh?” Blazermate said as she saw the devastation her automated gun did to the hordes of zombies. Due to the high volume of fire, Blazermate had to hit her sentry from time to time to reload its ammo, having the sentry run out of ammo in the middle of the zombie hordes would be a really bad thing.

All the while, Banjo tried to stay behind the van as it bulldozed its way through the clusters of lesser undead that got in it its way to avoid inadvertently using any of them as a speed bump himself, which, even without the distractions, proved a challenge on its own on account of the woman’s reckless driving (to put it mildly). The Trolley rocked on its wheels with every turn in its driver’s desperate attempt to keep up without rolling over. Luckily, Blazer’s sentry took some of the pressure off by making meat of those that even so much as looked their way--and then some. It couldn’t look everywhere at once, however, so there were a few stragglers that managed to wander uncomfortably close to Banjo. In the case that any made it onto the kart or within arm’s reach, Kazooie would pop out and jab at them with her beak to knock them off, if not to pieces.

It wasn’t long before they started spotting fiercer-looking creatures, the first couple of which the man riding shotgun in the van made effortless work of with astonishing ease and efficiency (with a hint of style). The party shortly arrived at a four-way intersection replete with abandoned vehicles and the shambolic remains of an attempted roadblock where more zombies and demons alike awaited them in greater numbers. They all rolled to a stop in the middle of everything, not terribly far behind the black quartet on their trail, and the white-haired man stepped out of the van, brought out a pristine, impressive looking greatsword, and called dibs on the demons that were previously minding their own business. The more trigger happy of their pack didn’t like that idea, so they opened fire indiscriminately into the crowd in spite of the demon hunter’s order. Regardless, everyone got to work.

Blazermate’s Sentry, being in a target rich environment, never stopped firing while Banjo navigated the trolley through the town as they followed the van. Even when they stopped at the crossroads, seeing as it still had targets in its range, it bombarded whatever was closest to it with its rapid fire miniguns and its quad rocket launcher which kept the group relatively safe within the sentry’s range. “I almost feel bad for the zombies… almost.” Blazermate said as she kept the sentry gun stocked up, but mostly just watched the carnage it caused alongside watching her ‘allies’ in the van doing what they were doing. Why that man with the sword wanted to get into melee range of slow moving zombies that looked frankly disgusting was beyond her. Leaning over to Kazooie, Blazermate said. ”500 zenny says he comes out a disgusting mess. Dunno why anyone would get close to these things.”

”Then you probably don’t want to look over here,” Kazooie quipped at Blazermate’s protest to an up close approach, knowing full well that her and Banjo would have to do exactly that. Being all but dry on ammo to join the firing squad or supply to do anything else, the duo were left to take care of the horde that crept up on the team from their flanks. Banjo leapt from the seat of the Trolley, and Kazooie opened with her Rat-a-tat Rap before Banjo’s feet hit the ground to knock off the first couple of zombies. Then, she tucked her wings around him as he dove forward into a rolling attack to bowl through the next few in a crooked line. He fluidly rose to his feet, already grabbing for the straps of his backpack while slipping it off to swing it around him in a whole spin and a half as a clumsy bludgeoning weapon--with Kazooie’s marginal weight addition increasing the force--to repel or dispatch the surrounding undead that were closing in on them. In the same motion, he threw his pack back on and kept going, front kicking one zombie away only for another to catch him by surprise when it grappled at him. He caught it just in time to enter it and himself in a clinch, but even for a burly specimen like Banjo, this simple fiend had a surprising amount of might behind it for its size and condition; perhaps more than most normal people could handle.

Even though Banjo likely boasted more than enough strength to force off his attacker on his own, Kazooie decided to chime in with two pecks to the creature’s face, granting her partner a clear opening to drive his shoulder into its abdomen (what was left of it) and force it into his grasp. He then proceeded to attempt using the living carcass as a battering ram as he continued charging forward through as many of the still standing horde as he could before having to discard his unwilling weapon. At that point, he would spin, grabbing the shouldered corpse by the ankles and slinging it at a row of its own to try and take them out. Regardless of the quality of his good work, the ursine wasn’t spared a second to dust his hands off before he felt himself suddenly being jerked back by a constricting tether tightening around his neck. He stumbled into a forced turnaround to get a look at its source--a different, special type of zombie--whilst instinctively grasping at the loops of tongue that strangled him and pulling away to stop himself being drawn in, but to no avail. His feet slowly slid along the asphalt despite his resistance until he stopped at a concrete barrier that he could plant one foot on, which unfortunately served to worsen the constriction.

Sensing that her partner was in trouble, Kazooie emerged and began jabbing at the monster’s tongue to force it to let go, or at the very least loosen its grip. In either case, Banjo would start grabbing extra lengths and wrapping them by segments at a time around his arms, shoulders, and torso to try pulling it to him until he had enough leverage to yank the Smoker off its feet. If he succeeded, he would let it fly past him to unravel himself while Kazooie grabbed a hold of the end of its tongue to try sending it into elastic rebound. He would then punch it away repeatedly with every return (possibly into other zombies), like a balloon tied to a rubber band, before smacking it down into the concrete with an overhead swing on the final hit and finishing it off with a Breegull Bash. Smoke would begin rapidly rising from the creature's remains, swelling into a vile green haze that the duo moved to find themselves out of as quickly as possible. Banjo stepped from the gaseous fog, coughing, with a fading spirit in his hand that him and Kazooie eyed curiously for a second before closing his fist around it to see if he couldn’t crush it into something useful… hopefully.

Blazermate could only roll her eyes at seeing the bear and bird combo running off into the frey. ”Of course. Welp, I’ll wait til my sentry cleans up more zombies before I do anything.” When the pair got pulled, She did notice that fact and went on a bit more of a defensive stance. She would need some way to make her sentry shoot the tongue of whatever thing pulled the pair. Thankfully a few moments later the pair emerged from where they were pulled. As they got in range of Blazermate’s healing beam, she put it on them, putting herself between her sentry and dispenser and using them both as cover as her sentry kept firing. They were mildly injured, but something told her things were going to get a bit tougher with all the noise that was being made.

World of Light

Level: 4 (4 -> 6/40) | 2 (13 -> 15/20)
Location: Hammerhead/Grillby’s -> Northbound to Dead Zone -> Southbound to Land of Adventure
Word Count: 1236 (+2 EXP)

(B-K level up TBD)

With the help of their fellow ally, the quarrel between the hunter and the party of four seemingly arrived at a peaceful, if disagreeable resolution. The regal quartet diving off in spite of the irritated young man’s advisory was as good a sign as any for the bear and bird that their help wasn’t needed, or wanted, so they elected not to hang around the scene any longer than they had to. However, with one conflict prevented, another greater one was taking place while they weren’t looking. Their attention was drawn to the sound of violent commotion coming from the garage, prompting them to investigate, but by the time they made their way to the door the fighting was over, their allies a little worse for wear, but otherwise okay. The duo could only observe the aftermath of the battle with a mechanical avian that lay center punched and lifeless against the wall, the ashes of its dead form already starting to scatter. With the known roles and personalities of the apparent combatants, it was hard to believe--and thus easy to rule out--that they would have simply picked a fight with it. The explanatory expression of regret from the kindly ranger, as well as Princess’s apologies to the owners served to all but ensure as much.

On that note, in similar fashion to Peach from earlier in the day, the dancer gently drew forth the fallen reploid’s spirit, examined it sympathetically for a brief moment, took it into herself, and began to change, merging aspects of the spirit with herself. This made the second demonstration of spirit-based transformation the duo had witnessed today, and that it came with a fancy set of retractable wings made her a tad jealous as she looked at her own, reminding her that they weren’t good for much as they currently were. A trilling, disappointed “Aww…” escaped her as she lowered her head ruefully at the realization that even flight was beyond her for the time being. Banjo, with a hand held to his chin, simply beheld the phenomenon with curious fascination, but he wouldn’t have time to think much harder about it. By then, the assertive mediator from earlier, having reached an accord with the punkish amputee (one “Nero”, apparently), approached the group with a proposal: a “spooky” detour to the Dead Zone to defeat a bizarre, demonic entity with what was a possibly Gothic name that Banjo would most likely misspell.

“Hmm… that sure does sound spooky,” Banjo visibly pondered. “I can’t imagine why we’d make a special trip to go there,” he further suggested, as if to decline; whether at a loss of nerve or out of abject laziness was anyone’s guess. Then came enthusiastically competitive talk of demon killing...

“That would be why,” Kazooie answered dryly in reference to the conversation in question.

“Because they’ll need our help?” Banjo inquired, pinching his forehead in slight, but obvious exasperation.

“Yyyy-yes, because we can’t let them go alone,” Kazooie falsely clarified, doing a bad job of hiding the other half of her intentions that involved getting in on that “contest”.

“*Sigh.* I’ll go bring the kart around.” Banjo resigned himself to the unplanned change of course, figuring that it couldn’t be much worse than where they were going before, even if it very obviously sounded like it. Come to think of it, he didn’t have a good answer to his own question. No matter which way him and Kazooie went, neither of them had a clear reason of their own for going there, nor for tagging along with a party, considering that the two of them usually just adventured on their own. As far as the duo were concerned, wherever they could help was where they needed to be, and this was the closest thing to a definite sign of that they’d gotten thus far. Hopefully, no one from the majority party would mind a few of them splitting off for the time being to go take care of something else. They would eventually have to come back around to it anyways, so a little sequence breaking couldn’t hurt.

Banjo made a point of informing Princess Peach--if no one else--of the party split as a polite courtesy to the generous curator of their journey, rather than running out on their new friends so soon without saying anything, but it didn’t stop him from apologizing for it still. Afterwards, he went to top off the Trolley before pulling up behind the van to await their imminent departure, offering the cargo space to any willing/needy passengers of their company who could fit and didn’t mind not having an actual seat to themselves. Though it wouldn’t be much, refueling gave the bear and bird a minute discuss the trip amongst themselves…

“Sooo… demons, zombies, undead… You think there’ll be any witches there too?”

“*Shudder* I sure hope not. I’m not looking forward to a reunion right now.”

---

After taking a couple of sizable drinks from the half full pitcher of lukewarm, iceless water she was hastily handed by the apprehensive pyroid, Hat Kid matched His Highness Bowser’s order (minus one) while making a few creative modifications to it. She requested medium rare with candied bacon and a sunny side fried egg on a toasted bun, with a side of nacho-loaded fries and a banana shake (un-spiked) to chase it all down with. While the barkeep was marking down every individual patrons’ tabs, Kid tried to see if she couldn’t negotiate hers by offering an alternative option of favor in return for food--like taking care of some of his chores or running an errand for him. If he accepted those terms, she would set to fulfilling them as soon as he called them in, or volunteer to settle it then and now if time permitted.

Whatever the owner’s request, assuming it was within reason, shouldn’t take her longer than her crew spent at the station to fulfill, as she had done worse favors for less savory characters in roughly the same amount of time in the past. Before that could be followed up on, however, the Koopa King, outraged over the prices being charged, paid out for him and all of his “minions” with a clawful of confettied gold buttons from his coat and angrily stormed out. The child stopped chewing for a moment in minor disbelief after seeing this and shrugged to the bartender, bearing a look of confusion as to whether her would still be expecting anything of her. Otherwise, she would spend the remainder of her time there watching, intrigued, as the Courier cleared out the Poker table, as promised. After Six walked out with his winnings, Kid would finish her meal and shortly follow.

Their business seemingly satisfied, the convoy soon got back on the road heading south. Hat Kid noted a conspicuous downsizing of their crew once again, but didn’t concern herself too much with the fact or the reason. The business of the outgoing party members was theirs, and she had her own to take care of. Speaking of which, she would be keeping her senses sharp, her compass active, and her top hat on and checked throughout the trip, until such time as the situation called for a change of hats. If her findings were potentially substantial enough to warrant briefly making her own break from the group to seek them out--even momentarily--so be it.

World of Light

Level: 4 (2 -> 4/40) | 2 (11 -> 13/20)
Location: Paved Wilderness -> Hammerhead
Word Count: 1166 (+2 EXP)

Power (Equip): Compass Badge

(B-K level up TBD)

Hat Kid’s search turned up nothing; nothing that she was interested in, anyways. She wasn’t likely to find anything in the open, empty, unremarkable stretch of off-road wasteland, but she had to be sure. She would have to be sure everywhere she went. That routine was sure to become tedious in a hurry. If only she had a better way of finding… wait! She paused and squinted quizzically mid-thought and decided to check substantially reduced inventory for the relevant key item that she could have sworn wasn’t there before. To her surprise, however, she found it--another one of her badges. Strange… she couldn’t recall having it with her when she left the castle, and she certainly never got the opportunity to repurchase it. So how did it end up in her pockets again? Well, no matter. How it came back into her possession didn’t matter to her if it could help take most of the guesswork out of future exploration. She shrugged in acceptance, pinned the badge to her hat, and set off to tail the rest of the moving convoy.

Banjo and Kazooie wouldn’t be far behind, but Banjo saw fit to make himself useful to the salvaging process. Though, they were limited in ways in which they could help without having any experience in automotive repair--or rather having plausibly deniable experience… maybe. They’d been driving around in what may or may not have been their own handiwork, but the important part was that it was eighty percent cargo bed. They had the benefit of taking with them what they couldn’t fix on the spot, which pretty much amounted to the bunny-eared ranger’s motorcycle and not much else on account of the bed’s size. While Banjo did the heavy lifting to get the crumpled remains of the Master Cycle into the Trolley, Kazooie couldn’t help overhearing and getting annoyed with the sentient rodent boasting about their twosome while putting a meta, capitalistic spin on his ramble.

“Get a load of Weasel Boy over there, stealing our bit…”

“You think he knows that most of these guys have their own games, like us?”

“Or that they’re penniless hasbeens like us? Probably not.”

“*sigh* Yeah… Good thing we live in the country.”

After loading the bulk of the bike and the bigger pieces missing from it, Banjo would call for Linkle’s attention. “Excuse me, Miss. This is your bike, isn’t it?” he inquired rhetorically with a gesturing thumb. “If you need a ride, you’re welcomed to hop in the bed. Sorry there’s not much room, but I figure you’d prefer it to walking. Also, sorry about what happened to you’re bike,” he finished while rubbing the back of his head, topping off his polite offer with an added layer of empathy. Whether she accepted it or not, him and Kazooie would finish up and be off after the others in short order.

The convoy arrived at an active service depot, their company effectively more than doubling their clientele on what already looked to be a decently busy day for them. They were received warmly by an elderly man who was clearly the owner of the place and his kin who helped him run it. Curiously, the red glint in their eyes showed lingering signs of Galeem’s influence, so it was strange to be regarded cordially rather than threateningly. Whether the same could be said for all of the station’s patrons and attendants remained to be seen, but for now, the change was more than welcomed (even if it meant they would still have to somehow release them later).

Kid didn’t need her scooter serviced, so she parked right outside the diner and headed inside while the others talked shop and took care of whatever business they had. While the establishment’s exterior gave the impression of belonging somewhere… colder, the quaint aesthetic and inviting atmosphere indoors made it an almost perfect fit anywhere. Business was oddly slow for the time of day, which may have had to do with being located at a pit stop in the middle of nowhere. They probably didn’t get a lot of regulars; just passersby like herself and her party. The relative vacancy of the joint left the child with her pick of seating, so she picked an empty barstool at random and planted herself on it. As a bonus, they were SPINNING barstools. Nice!

Kid loved sitting, especially in fresh new locales. The only thing missing from the scene was a majestic view, but that made it no less picturesque. After her seat slowed to a stop midway through its third rotation, she relaxedly kicked her feet while taking in the setting and its strange offerings. Most notable was the full table of various breeds of dogs playing a game of cards. The player dog with the extra-dimensional neck stood out even among them. He certainly had a bold strategy going. He could see the hands of his opponents, but not his own; a move that mixed classic and unconventional. Whether that made him a cheater or an innovator perhaps depended on the type of game, player consensus, and the dealer’s ruling. Whatever the case, the Courier--who had just joined the table with a declared aim of claiming the pot--might have his work cut out for him.

Redirecting her attention to the bar, Kid scanned the shelves and menu for whatever they would be legally allowed to serve her, which excluded most of everything behind the bartender. Speaking of which, it was surprising--and probably ill-advised--that a license to handle alcohol would be granted to someone with a flaming head and hands, not that she would be ordering any. It was a miracle in itself that he could handle cleaning supplies and water, the latter of which she would start with to wash out the dryness in her mouth from spending all morning driving through the barrens. While she was working on her first glass, she would be figuring out what food and drink to get to follow it with… and how she was going to pay for it.

Back at the garage, Banjo dropped off the motorcycle with the more mechanically inclined to leave in their much needed care. Before the bear and bird could catch up with their fellow party members in the diner, they caught a dispute going on between a black-clad quartet that could easily be mistaken for a boy band and a young handicapped swordsman calling their ability into question. At the polite distance Banjo kept, it was difficult to make out the nature of their argument, but it was clear that it was due to escalate if left alone to play out. Luckily, the human(?) brawler of their group intervened and attempted to diffuse the situation before a fight broke out, and judging by the white-haired man’s apparent withdrawal, it seemed to work out…

“Whew… I thought we were gonna have to step in for a minute there…”

“Honestly, I was hoping we’d get to place bets.”

World of Light

Level: 3 (18 -> 30/30) LEVEL UP! ---> 4 (0 -> 2/40) | 1 (4 -> 19/10) LEVEL UP! ---> 2 (9 -> 11/20)
Location: Paved Wilderness
Word Count: 758 (+2 EXP)

(Level ups TBD)

Banjo’s stunting gambit proved successful. With a momentous step, he forcefully swung an arm wide into Grimm, knocking him from his feet to tumble to the ground with the duo. The combatants rolled to their feet to face each other, but Banjo and Kazooie were spared no chance by the reaper to make another move against him. Grimm mimed a ripping motion, and with it, the two stumbled forward as two spectral masses were forcibly drawn from their form--one a gentle blue, the other a soft red. They clung to consciousness as they lingered within a state of being between life and death while Grimm momentarily considered them. After a few seconds of quick consideration, he sent the two spirits spiraling back, coalescing into one as they made contact with their proper vessels and sent them tumbling a few dozen yards across the landscape at speeds just over what their own vehicle could reach. After Banjo eventually slid to a stop on his front, he then picked his head up to shake off the dizziness and assess what had just transpired.

“What just happened?” Banjo began with a groan.

“I could tell you, but you might wish I didn’t,” Kazooie suggested, expecting the spare her partner the disturbing reality of their experience.

“It feels like we just had our souls stolen and thrown back at us.”

“Er… yeah. That’s basically what happened.”

“Aren’t things like that a bit dark for us?”

“Yeah, I can’t say I’m liking the implications here.”

As well she shouldn’t. While such happenings were principally little different from those that kicked off their previous adventure--Bottles’ death, Jingaling’s zombification, and their nemesis Grunty’s plan to literally steal the life force of others to restore herself (which resulted in the latter)--they had yet to witness just how much deeper it went than they realized. They were lucky enough to survive what they had just underwent. Whether there was something somehow keeping their spirits anchored to their being (i.e. will, vitality), the biker had some better reason for letting them go, or if they were thrown back at them just to prove a point would remain a mystery to them. They could see in the near distance that Grimm was finished; overkilled really. A few of their allies were gathered around the reaping biker as his last words and signs of life escaped him, followed by an upward explosion of scattering spirits.

Doing their best to keep track, Banjo and Kazooie were able to closely estimate somewhere between eighty-three and ninety-one spirits, but would otherwise need a third opinion to narrow it down. Hat Kid counted exactly eighty-seven. Though, aside from their explorative instincts, none of them were sure why their minds chose to record such information as if they would be able to do anything with it; the spirits were surely well out of their reach. Shortly after the last of the freed souls disappeared, the duo’s attention was drawn to the prismatic flare that erupted where Peach stood, prompting them to hurry back to see what was going on. When the glow dissipated, the Princess emerged, transformed, bearing uncomfortably familiar features that weren’t previously her own.

“Your Highness?” Banjo started, squinting as if that would somehow sharpen his visual comprehension. “Is that you?” She affirmed that she was indeed herself whilst summarizing her new abilities, which the bear and bird had already experienced firsthand. Putting two and two together from the debriefing about ‘Spirits’ from less than an hour ago, they came to the obvious conclusion as to how Peach received her upgrade. While this news came with its own set of concerns, all the same, it was a relief to know that she wasn’t corrupted by her changes.

“Just promise you won’t do what he did. I’m already having traumatic flashbacks,” Kazooie added in dramatized reference to their incident from earlier. Besides a hard tumble, they managed to come out of it physically unscathed, but it stood the chance of leaving them scarred in other ways.

In the meantime, with the cessation of activity, Hat Kid was free to comb the field as she pleased, and resumed doing so once the spirit fountain ran empty. She would keep a sharp eye out and her top hat on and active while riding another lap or two around the battlefield before regrouping with the others. Provided it wasn’t carrying anything that she might want, she would leave the sole remaining raider vehicle alone and allow it to flee without pursuing it.