Dawnrider

World of Light

Level: 4 (39 -> 41/40) LEVEL UP! ---> 5 (1/50) | 4 (9 -> 12/40)
Location: Lumbridge - Entrance -> Great Ton Pu Inn -> Guild Hall | RCPD HQ - Main Hall -> Exterior; Market Avenue (Center Path)
Word Count: 980 (+2 EXP) | 1328 (+3 EXP)

Stress Level: 95 -> 80 -> 0

(Level up TBD)

The party stepped out of the crash-parked monster truck and onto the streets of Lumbridge where they with an appropriately warm, but subdued hero’s welcome. Word travelled fast, apparently. It was nice and all, but for Hat Kid, it hardly compared to her time as a movie star on the moon. Admittedly, however, gigs here definitely paid better (monetarily that is; not in Time Pieces), and she was almost certainly treated better--cautiously encouraged to face danger rather than being actively placed in it. Furthermore, the studio never fed or accommodated her while under their employ, unlike the people of modest means here in Lumbridge who could still spare a room and meal for a heroic entourage in spite of the need for business. With the former in mind, she was going to have to get in touch with a lawyer with whom to discuss and possibly file on an entire naughty list of complaints about fair, safe labor practices and innumerable violations thereof some time.

The child quietly took the blanket/s and water offered to her with a nod of thanks. Before making her way straight to her free room--courtesy of the courteous innkeeper--she made a slight detour past the job board and stripped off quest flier at random without looking at it to take back with her. A minute or two later, she found herself in a quaint, but cozy room with a single bed smaller than what she was used to (queen size); closer to a reasonable size for her (twin). Before she could lay down in it though, there was something she had to take care of. She planted herself in the seat at the desk, dipped the quill, and started jotting...

‘Day 2…

Turns out *r-real* ‘quests-s’ aren’t as f-f-fun as they m-make them s-s-seem in ga-games; a lot more s-s-stressful than I imagined-d. S-still s-sh-shakey, h-hard to w-wr-write. I th-think-k-k I n-need to lie d-d-down.’

Without specifically saying as much, she thought to herself that she would stick to the various sources of fictional media and entertainment (i.e. games, movies, novels, etc.) to satisfy her quest fix from now on after tonight’s events… unless there was more to be done here. She didn’t exactly check to see if there were any more jobs offering the relevant hourglass reward while she was busy using one of the fliers as a spare page for her placeholder diary entry until she could get back to her ship to copy her ramblings into her journal proper. There was, of course, some symbolic catharsis to be had in venting one’s flustered disappointment and frustrations with the very thing that caused them onto what was essentially an advertisement for more of it… or maybe she just needed to sleep it off.

With that last item on her daily agenda fulfilled, she decided to do just that, but not without first peeking into the footlocker to see if her luck with pulling spare change from the toy chest in her room would follow her here. Whether this little experiment succeeded or failed, she would try again once more tomorrow. She put out all the candles in the room, set her hat aside on the bedside nightstand, tucked herself in tightly and blissfully waited for the next sunrise as she let this outgoing day fall away into the past.

---

Without the unnecessible noise and abruptness of her ship’s morning alarm system, Hat Kid woke much more calmly and gently than usual, cutely yawning and stretching as she sat up to greet the sunrise. By force of habit (read lack of needing to) she neglected to draw the curtains closed. Good for her being up early enough to not be harshly glared awake by the pre-noon sun; there’s little else besides that to make one feel less like getting out of bed. Contrarily, she felt rejuvenated; reinvigorated; relieved of all the stress brought upon her from the night before. It was, frankly, a miracle that she didn’t have any nightmares from it. At least nobody died yesterday (that she knew of), which alone was a sizable step up from the day before that. Perhaps the Heroes of Light could keep their good fortune going (or, at the very least, come up with an official team name).

Kid made her way out of bed at a comfortable pace and proceeded down to the Guild Hall to see about what came next for them. By now she had figured out the same thing surely everyone did: what they defeated last night wasn’t one of Galeem’s thirteen guardians. The threat they faced on the farmsteppe, while formidable, didn’t seem quite big enough to fit such a role, and that weird wave of cleansing darkness from before didn’t happen this time. Of course, wouldn’t you know it, the Guildmaster conveniently failed to mention the first half of that observation to them until now. Figures. They should have known better than to expect a shady cloaked figure to be candid with them about much of anything.

’Whatever,’ she more or less thought to herself before tuning out the deliberation. She then caught herself idly glancing back at the job board, prompting her to pull out her flier and closely examine both to double-check and make sure there was nothing else of interest or critical importance for her, folding the paper and putting it away once she confirmed as much one way or the other. Afterwards, she wandered over to the spirit-littered table and drew three from the pile--a Foreman, a Scarecrow, and a Sleeper’s Dream--skipping the courtesy of asking if anyone else would mind her taking them. She eyed each of them for a brief moment before haphazardly smashing them together in her wee hands, curious and somewhat eager to see what they would yield for her after having seen everyone else do it this whole time...

---

For lack of anything better to do (and not wanting to run in to the creature again), Banjo and Kazooie set off on their own to search for more clues… or the killer--whichever came first. Some might have advised them against going alone with a serial killer roaming about, but as they would remind any objectors, they were a pair; they had that part covered. As far as they were concerned, they were never alone… not that it helped Louis, sadly (who, unbeknownst to them, was actually fine). They kept Blazermate’s testimony in mind as far as who and what to look out for. They had an idea for how they might combat his ‘camera freeze’, should Banjo fail to avoid it, but without Wonderwing, they were admittedly minus anything with which to “attack a ghost.” Though, they were somewhat doubtful that he was, well… that. What would a ghost need a camera for? In any case, they would figure out what to do when they arrived at the problem.

Of course, even after searching whatever rooms they could get into (that wasn’t the library), they encountered a whole lot of nothing, surprisingly. After a bit of backtracking, they somehow even ended up a couple of steps behind Ratchet, Clank, and Blazer in their aimless search. It got to a point where every time the trio would turn a corner, enter, or leave a room, the duo would end up doing the inverse of the same, never once entering the other’s sight. All the while they never found anything they were looking for, and finding things was generally what they were good at. Although, perhaps 'things' and 'people' were a different animal when it came to search efforts…

They deliberated on this briefly and decided to discontinue their search around the time the vulpine came rushing through the halls, opting to follow him back to see what his hurry was. It turned out he had the instructions for how to exorcise the 'Preta', as it came to be called. Banjo decided, in spite of Kazooie, that he wasn't feeling as prideful as Fortune about getting back at it, letting the decided volunteers go ahead without them while they held down the main hall with those that remained. Banishing demons wasn't something they knew how to contribute to anyhow, and it gave the ursine as good an excuse as he was content with to kick back for a moment, however brief it would be.

---

The minute their makeshift barricade gave way, Banjo rammed a cluster of undead back with the top side of a tipped over table, pinning them against the first solid surface they made contact with while Kazooie took their heads while a quick, sharp rotary slice of her wings. The severed heads went airborne, Banjo drew the Cricket Bat knocked them indiscriminately into the invading crowd, shattering and splattering a few of the lesser creatures struck, but otherwise doing little to stop the horde spilling into the station. Guarding himself with the bat, Banjo threw a handful of them overhead as they rolled in, Kazooie breaking them off with a single forceful beak jab. What neither of them knew was that the Antenora among them would angrily, unwaveringly charge them, bowling over the Caina Banjo kicked at him and swinging madly. This caught Banjo slightly off guard, and unable to raise his guard in time, he was sent tumbling back with a fresh gash in his hyde.

The Antenora followed up with another series of cleaver strikes, Banjo this time dodging the first set, blocking the second, leaving a sizable score mark in the paddle, and jumping out of the way of the third. Kazooie then caught an intended ambush attack by a Hideous just in time to duck and jump (in that order) over its incoming blade swings, which instead struck the Antenora, drawing its aggressed attention to the passed over flyer. A Caina then came at them dragging its scythe behind it into an upward crescent swing that Banjo sidestepped in a pivot while grabbing it by one of its arms and pulling it into a headlock. In the same motion, Kazooie wrested its scythe from it and hurled it with all of her strength into the chest of one of the Imp’s that had been harassing the group while Banjo ran with the lesser demon in his grasp.

Both animals swung hard at a rising angle, Kazooie to lift themselves, and Banjo to knock the demons into the air for use as kicking/stepping stones. The maneuver got Banjo onto the demon’s back by its wings, whereupon it thrashed and swatted about to buck the ursine off. He loosened his grip and went airborne, but with the aim to have Kazooie drive them forward in an aerial loop with the Accept-Lance in hand to skewer the Hideous and whatever else happened to be in their path.

For as hard as everyone fought, even with the steady arrival of reinforcements and Blazer’s ever helpful zombie domination/crowd control, they were very obviously getting nowhere trying to brute force the horde back. After a minute a positive update to their situation came in the form of a hasty update by Jill who had intuited the exorcism crew’s success, which meant they could finally get the hell out of there. The bad news was that the teleporter wouldn’t be doing them that favor as they had hoped, so they would have to find another way. The front door was definitely out, especially with the arrival of a hulking demonic mech, which left them the obvious first alternative of beelining for the back while V held the machine at bay.

Kazooie trailed on foot not far behind Fox, bounding after him through the shattered window and onto the perimeter wall. From there they managed to glimpse a second-long look at the path beyond before having to move aside for Nightmare to hole punch an exit for the rest. Survivors promptly poured out through the opening and onto the street while the line of fighters bottlenecked what bit of horde dregs could get through. The duo Buster dropped from the wall onto the nearest creature to a civilian and joined in on fending them off, punching, kicking, pecking, swiping, and batting down zombie and demon alike until the bat snapped and folded at its center where it was previously cut.

Nero's assault against the greater demon brought down the station's foundations onto the horde, further slowing their advance. This provided the group with a larger window of opportunity to continue their escape, as they would do while knocking off the stray horde number that followed. Banjo flung the loosely connected halves of the bat at a couple of undead and took off on Kazooie's back alongside the others. They came upon a proverbial fork in the road where they were left with a snap decision to make on which route to take. Between the visible danger on the left and the INvisible threat on the right (as dictated by Howard), the answer was more or less obvious for the duo.

"You sods can all go whichever way you like," the breegull bluntly interjected in her casually, characteristically, unnecessarily rude manner as her contribution to the collective decision making process. "Banjo and I are going up the middle," she added, head gesturing to her ursine partner still mounted on her back. Banjo nodded in agreement, but also to reassure the others that they were good for it. They were among the only ones in the entire group who could fly, which made heights less of a challenge and meant that they could alter routes or go airborne at will if for any reason they had to. No lesser creature that didn't share their mobility would dare follow them up. As soon as everyone else had their headings (or sooner), the duo would set off posthaste on their chosen path.

World of Light

Level: 4 (24 -> 37 -> 39/40)
Location: Ancestral Farmstead
Word Count: 756 (+2 EXP)

Stress Level: 95

Nice! Hat Kid’s finishing blow drove some fragments of the Brachydios’ already fractured skull (courtesy of the Courier) with visibly explosive force that recoiled as colorful blowback almost twice as big as herself. This was her best result using this hat yet, and she was feeling rather proud of that, even if it didn’t immediately show. Though, it definitely added greatly to her striking power, it didn’t necessarily do the same for her constitution.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow…” she murmured silently to herself after sucking air through her teeth, gripping her sore hand at the base of her wrist. The delayed response came following her failed attempt to act cool and play off the pain as if there was none, but of course, this usually happened when she tried to hit things with her own hands. Suffice to say she hadn’t miraculously grown accustomed to it within the day, and she made the rookie mistake of assuming a little extra power would solve her durability problem. It would take her some getting used to before getting to grips with the new hat and its powers well enough to use them properly.

She stood among the drifting ashes where she sank through the creature’s dissipating form, wondering where the sun went as she beheld the returning night sky once more. This place was a little too loose and sporadic with its ether-borne day/night cycles for her liking. At least now it finally settled on something more normal with a neutral (read zero) effect on the psyche, and a soothing one on the spirit. With some exceptions, spirits seemed to be mostly high. One of the resident new guys passed around eager commendations to everyone on their part in helping him do his job, the bubbly as ever Linkle extended them to her own reflection, talking to it like she was going crazy (she probably was), Tora and Poppi dancing in celebration like no one could see them, all while the Koopa Troop cleaned the battlefield of leftover spirits for later divvying up. That was certainly for the best. They could all fight over what to keep later when they had the energy to spare for it. In the meantime, the child decided to blow off some of what she had left of hers by joining the dancing pair, jubilantly fist pumping and skipping up next to them--high fiving Linkle on the way over--and smoothly transitioning into her own dance, which she would continue to do until everyone started to load up for departure.

---

Rather than nodding off as some had opted to, Hat Kid took her seat leaning criss-crossed against the short tailgate so she could still get a decent view of the horizon and landscape during the ride back. She slowly, gently, idly rocked and swayed while contentedly stargazing until Linkle playing with her new cryokinetic powers caught her attention. She raised a hand for the heroine to toss her one of the toy ice constructs only to realize upon catching it was a mistake that was. It was freezing to the touch (Duh!), almost as if it would stick to her hand if she held onto it for much longer than a couple of seconds. She reactively, clumsily juggled the freshly made ice shape for a handful of passes between hands until she accidentally let it get away from her over the side, quickly righting herself to make sure she didn’t go with it.

She smiled looking at the trail of discarded crystal littering the fields behind them, her eyes trailing back to the stars, then to her shaky hand. It trembled not from playing hot potato with an icy sphere, or from having hurt it punching a dragon in the skull earlier, but it was due to the fact that her nerves were still shot from stress that she had yet to adequately relieve herself of. Realizing this, she nervously clutched her one hand still with the other, looking about to see if anyone else had noticed. Luckily, they were either asleep or otherwise preoccupied, so she was saved some embarrassment. She then retracted both hands into her sleeves and tucked them under her arms--both for appearances and out of legitimate need for warmth. Heavy stress and anxiety tended to bring on a chill in some. It was just another reason for her restlessness, besides simply not wanting to sleep yet… not until she found a proper place for it, where she could briefly journal the day’s experiences before laying her head down.

World of Light

Level: 4 (22 -> 24/40)
Location: Ancestral Farmstead
Word Count: 1036 (+2 EXP)

Stress Level: 30 -> 70 -> 95

Between Linkle’s bombardment, thunderous sniper fire from Michael, miniature earthquakes, the rampaging of two enormous drakes (which now included Bowser), some of her teammates’ conditions, the hits she had taken herself, explosions of ‘color’, and the persistence of their opposition, things were starting to get a little too stressful for Hat Kid. The ‘husks’, the dead people… they just kept coming! Bowser and the warrior hacked and mauled the Thing to death, and yet, they wouldn’t relent. The child was to join the others in whittling down the back line after diving out of the Koopa King’s way, but the rapid, successive pileup of stress over such a short period left her young, relatively delicate psyche addled. With a helping of sensory overload to compliment the situation, she couldn’t focus on anything long enough to decide where to direct her attention. She pressed her palms to her ears, hoping to block out the horrific and chaotic noises around her, pinched her eyelids shut to avert her sight from the maddening color and its lesser heralds, and tried to shake the onsetting insanity from her head until, eventually, she just… stopped thinking about it.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was the otherworldly color that filled them in random, abstract patterns like lingering hypnagogia. It was kinda pretty, actually. She didn’t see what the big deal was; why anyone would go insane just from looking at it for a prolonged period. It’s just color. Was it considered unnerving simply because it and its emissary were from space, and that frightened people by virtue of being incomprehensibly foreign (i.e. alien)? She’s been to space. This wasn’t the worst, or weirdest thing out there. Besides, it simply isn’t worth worrying about; none of it is. Life is hard enough, stressful enough already. Who needed more hardship; more stress? She didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. Whoops… there she goes thinking again. Probably best she didn’t do that. Too much of that can be dangerous...

Fortunately for her, someone (plural) was around to help. In her hypnotic daze, she hadn’t noticed anything going on around her, that the horde of farmhands had been cleared out or that she had been picked up and safeguarded from the conflict while she sat entranced. Strangely enough, what had finally roused her from her stupor was the decline in stimulus that had become white noise for her during the past minute or so, followed shortly by the Brachydios' roar. No more screaming scarecrows, no whip cracks from the foremen, less gunfire and explosions than before, and the splendorous dawnlight to overtake the Borealic night, the horizon goldening on the other side of the hill where her allies could be seen doing good work on the draconic beast. She poked her head out of the confines of Bowser's cradled top hat to see all of this for herself, and suddenly, she felt… inspired.

The swordsmen and the cowboy had worn down the monster considerably, managing even to sever its tail, and they did it all while facing half of the same horde her and the others contended with. They only just received reinforcement from Peach and Poppi after their own dragon (NOT Bowser) pinned it down. Kid decided that she was feeling good enough to want in on the action herself, and considering the now favorable odds, what better time to tackle their actual objective; the thing they had come for in the first place, in the name of somehow forwarding their journey. Just as she was about to urge the Koopa King on toward the battle, believing that he would be all the more useful there, he started to go… the other way. Perplexed as to his intentions, but not all that curious about them, she decided she would make her own way over… with a little borrowed help from Bowser anyways.

Looking down at the rim of the King's hat she lay in, a devious, half-lidded cat-grin crept onto her face, an idea having formed in her head as she receded back into the confines of the giant headpiece. Having been in it for as long as she had (which wasn't much, but didn't need to be for her), she had ample time to get a good look at what she was working with. Besides, it was a hat; of course she knew how to use it. After another second of silence from her, the hat's mechanical boxing arms sprang forth unexpectedly to loose itself from Bowser's grasp, and its new wearer's tiny feet popped out through the opening to gently meet the top of the koopa's head following a rising flip.

Just as soon as she landed, she lept spiraling into the air toward the battle, with the hat’s arm outstretched to act as a propeller to carry her further. She wasn’t so much wearing it as it was simply encasing her entire form, and either ceased to be the case when she used the diminishing momentum from her spin to hurl it at the Brachydios like a frisbee to clobber the monster in the head with one of the mechanical gloves. With still a little more distance left to cover, the child dove for the hat on its return flight to bounce off and send it reeling back for a second hit. Expecting she could probably get no more hits out of it than that, she elected this time to merely springboard off of the rebounding top hat, still wearing Terry’s Cap.

“PAWAA-” she broadcasted excitedly, rising at an angle with a small, flaming fist raised. Time dilated for a split second, her burning hand above her shining vividly even in the daylight, as she smiled widely and winked at no one in particular. “DANKU!” She came crashing the rest of the way down onto the drake’s head with, of course, a Power Dunk--another borrowed technique that she this time called out in convincingly accented Engrish (despite being an actual English speaker). Though her hands and power were wittle little, the monster was considerably weak, so it was worth seeing if she could make something of it (and if the flair was worth it).

World of Light

feat.

GM

@Lugubrious

Level: 4 (6 -> 9/40)
Location: RCPD HQ - Exterior -> Interior; Main Hall -> Library -> ???
Word Count (Player/Total): 1911/3193 (+3 EXP)

The battle on the roof quickly came to a head with the rapid, successive arrival of slightly overstaffed reinforcements. As it turned out, they wouldn’t be needed that badly, or for very much longer. The feline woman happened to be a more than capable duelist. All she needed was to have some of the attention taken off of her. Jak, the duo, and a mage who came from out of nowhere held off the fliers while her and the monk went to work on the centaurian angels that had just showed up to replenish their ranks, and in an eye-catching display of creatively grotesque self-dismemberment and a series of puns that were already wearing out their charm, the battle had reached an appropriate climax.

By this point, Banjo had already put away Kazooie, who he’d been using as a stabbing weapon as opposed to the blunt paddle he forget he had. It was clear some seconds before the finishing blow that the fight was already over. The feliness, seamingly appreciative of the assistance, enthusiastically offered to be helped again some time… in the form of another cat pun, of course. While she did cover the gratitude base in her line as well, it was pretty obvious that she was just reaching for an excuse to spit out another pun.

“Nyah,” retorted Kazooie, as if to say ‘nah’ in catspeak, “I think we’d better not.”

Banjo, a little warmer on the welcome and more forgiving of the excess of quips, took it for what it was with casual acceptance.

“Sure thing, Miss! Any time,” he returned with a nod and soft smile.

Shortly, their escort arrived to usher everyone inside. Banjo decided him and Kazooie would be right behind them, opting to grab one of the fallen angel spirits. He motioned to crush it, but stopped short of it with a second’s consideration before handing it to Kazooie while he picked up another of the same. They then clamped down on their handled spirits to see if either of them yielded anything different from the other, or at all useful to either of them. Depending on the latter, they would decide whether or not the remaining few spirits were worth collecting and itemizing before heading inside, getting in step behind the feliness.

For Banjo/Kazooie

You have acquired:
Purple Magic Lollipop
A butterfly-shaped candy lollipop that increases one's alertness, it restores magical power when used.

And

Accept-lance
A large white jousting lance with ornate, golden, octagonal hand-guards and a row of golden spikes down one side. Heavy and difficult to aim while moving oneself.

And

4x Ring
Pretty but with no discernable use, they’re easy to collect and keep in bulk, and may hold some value.

“Looks like there are a lot of you stuck here,” Banjo observed. “What happened?” he inquired to her.

“Besides what we were here for,” Kazooie interjected, making sure to get the obvious out of the way.

“Erm… yeah. Like, How’d you all end up here? For how long? What’s been going on since? How’s morale? That sort of thing.” The latter most point of questioning would become more readily apparent to them by the time they made it to the first floor to see for themselves. The scene they arrived at was a freshly quieted one of low mood, high anxiety, and sudden confusion that had some breaking off this way and that trying to make sense of the ‘ghost’ talk that went on without them, the lingering whispers of it they could overhear as some continued to discuss it among themselves.

The feral pivoted her arms above herself, stretching lazily. “Weeeell, I’m not really with ‘them.’ Just stuck here. But I don’t mind letting the cat out of the bag. We came here from all over for shelter. Things are pretty bad, and have been for a while, about a week for the earliest arrivals, maybe? Supplies keep on dwindlin’, and people keep gettin’ picked off or turned.” Fortune motioned broadly to the survivors. “Most fighters are still around, ‘specially thanks to that Zombrex stuff, but soon there won’t be anything for ‘em to protect.” Thinking that to be sufficient, Fortune reached down to flick a bit of angel plaster off her tummy. “Aw, jeez. What’ll people say if they see angel dust on me?” She glanced at the newcomers with a smirk.

“Typical zombie movie fair kind of bad… got it.” Based on what they were given, and what they had seen for themselves, one couldn’t blame the breegull for coming to that conclusion. By appearances, it was very much in line with what could be expected from the average tropey zombie plot, but now with a paranormal twist. The feline woman seemed to gloss over Banjo’s first question regarding how they got there in the first place, but recalling his and Kazooie’s lack of remembering how they arrived at Peach’s Castle before, they chalked it up to an identical case of conditional amnesia. Her mention of the survivors ‘protecting’ something didn’t go unnoticed, which made a little more sense as to why they were still there when a group so relatively sizeable and capable as theirs could have fought their way out by now. The question of how was more easily answered by the current situation at large.

“And what’re they protecting exactly?”

Fortune blinked twice, as if her questioners were dumb. “Uh, the normal people?” She didn’t gesticulate again, but a simple look around was all it took to confirm the presence of a number of ordinary-looking people. Some were human, some other species, but nothing really stood out about them and they tended to sink into the background. Nevertheless, they were living, thinking beings, and being unable to defend themselves against the horrors of the night, they needed to rely on those Fortune called ‘fighters’ for protection. “Unlike where I’m from, the police here actually seem to take their job seriously--keeping folks safe.”

While their interviewee’s eyes and tone called Banjo’s intelligence and awareness into question, Kazooie was turning her head about in surveillance to notice the ‘normal’ survivors in advance of her partner. Banjo rubbed the back of his head in slight embarrassment at his lack of realizing the obvious before responding.

“Erm… r-right… Anyways, I guess it’s good we got here when we did. You guys look like you could use the help. More of it, that is.”

“Now, to figure out how we’re supposed to help them…” Kazooie suggested, genuinely curious as to what came next for them. Banjo opened his mouth to respond, pausing short of his speech and cupping his chin in contemplation. He began to listen closer to the audio loop that he had thus far neglected to acknowledge in spite of its apparent importance, absentmindedly nodding along while letting it play one complete run before formulating any thoughts on it. Sadly, said thoughts weren’t many, as it left him with little in the way of clues or much of anything else to work with. The only idea he could generate from it was to see if they couldn’t find something spooky and out of place.

“I guess we could go look for whatever that is…”

“We gonna be ghost hunters now?”

“Looks that way,” Banjo said with a standing, preparatory stretch. They had no idea where to start looking (for when did they ever), but they were content for now to defer to their usual instinct of going through the nearest areas on the lowest level they could access, starting with the east wing of the building.

---

Perhaps unsurprisingly, their aimless search for signs of ghostly activity turned up inconclusive. They were usually much better at finding things than this--it was kinda their thing--but it was clear that they were out of their element here. The task at hand was much more in line with detective work than the glorified scavenger hunting they were used to. Luckily, not everyone came up empty-handed. Donnie and Blazer were presenting their evidence to the Captain as Nero returned to read his own findings aloud. With these new developments, gears began to turn in everyone’s heads as plans and search parties started to form. The feral lady wisely her sights on the library, which the duo were thinking they probably should have done before. With this in mind, Banjo thought they might pair up with her to split the investigative effort.

“Care if we tag along, Miss…?” He let his question hang for a moment while he waited for the woman’s name and reply to the offer.

“Fortune!” The catgirl gave a brilliantly white, fang-toothed smile. Not everyone was so pleased with their name, but not everyone’s name made for a natural pun.

"Figures," Kazooie offhandedly remarked in immediate recognition of the fact.

“And nyeah, by all means. Let’s see how purr-ceptive you two are.” Laughing, Fortune led the way to the second floor west side stairs, raced to the top, and through the door.

Inside the trio found a double-decker room packed wall to wall with books, complete with its own internal staircase. Fortune wasted no time crouching by the nearest shelf, running a claw down the books’ spines one after another in search of a book that might help with the haunting. Her tail swished back and forth as her hungry eyes gobbled up one title after another.

The bear and bird took to a different bookshelf on the wall opposite of Fortune where Banjo started thumbing and scanning through the assortment at eye and foot level while Kazooie reached over him to do the same. When or if They failed to turn up anything of interest on the bottom half of the shelf, Banjo would climb and shimmy along it so him and Kazooie could continue their search into the upper half of the bookcase. They searched mostly by cover and/or title for anything especially distinctive or relevant that might stand out to them as important, and would repeat their simple procedure either until they found something or cleared their half of the shelves on the room's first level before moving up to the second to try there.

Nobody turned up anything for a while. The books situated on the ground level were ordinary, run-of-the-mill, stuff that had broad appeal. Nothing more interesting, or more useful, presented itself. At the very least, sections were bound together by related subjects, which helped the three speed up their searches by omitting rows at a time. Unfortunately, taking their hunt to the next level proved no more successful. More specific, in-depth, and clandestine books the upper level had, but anything directly related to the matter at hand it had not.

"Bunk… Junk… Rubbish…" Kazooie sounded off as she indiscriminately tossed one book after another over her shoulder upon cursory assessment of the absence within them of relative worth to their cause. "You sure we're looking for the right thing?" she proposed to her partner, resisting the temptation to instead say 'write' in cheeky allusion to the matter. Without being specific about it, or what to try next, she had a point in that they were clearly getting nowhere trying to find any evidence in print.

In one spot, however, Banjo and Kazooie stumbled upon a number of spiritualist and folklore books nestled neatly and noncommittally in between a fiction and nonfiction section. There, they found a thin paperback covering ghosts, haunting, and exorcism in a general sense. Whether it would prove terribly useful or not, Banjo handed it booklet to Kazooie to hang onto just in case.

“Hmm… maybe there’s something hidden in them? Like a switch or a secret passage or something,” Banjo conjectured, entering the realm of obvious cliches once more with his thought process. Though, for all either of them knew, the solution might just be that simple. Either way, it couldn’t hurt for them to rule it out by checking around, atop, inside, and behind the bookcase, just as Banjo set to doing.

At about the same time, a curious purr from Miss Fortune -also on the second level- suggested that she found something, too. One look her way was all it took to trash the possibility that she’d found the perfect book, though. Instead, she stood in front of a door with her hands on her hips. “Hey,” she said. “Doesn’t this look out of place to you?”

Someone on the hunt for written material alone might never have noticed, but Fortune’s eyes were as sharp as knives in the dark, always on the prowl for something or other. This time they flushed a door--not at all hidden--that looked totally dissimilar to any other in the police station, and to the police station itself, for that matter. Wooden, neglected, and old, it was the sort that you might find at the porch of a house in some quaint backwoods, not a museum-turned-police station in what was once a large city. Without waiting for an answer, Fortune turned the misshapen knob and pushed the door open.

Inside was a room of completely different style. It was the interior of a wooden bungalow, one clearly lived in at some point given the clutter lying everywhere. Another door stood to the left, a dilapidated cupboard stood across from it, and a rack of what might have been charms hung from the wall under a series of pictures. Candles provided light.

Fortune went in, her eyes bright with wonder. “Whoa, how weird!” Dextrous hands rustled through the cupboard, turning up old tableware and moth-eaten cloths. She then walked along the decorated wall, brushing the hanging charms with her fingers. Those sharp eyes examined the subjects in the pictures. “Hmm...one family, it looks like. And not from this part of the world.” The next door was ajar. She went through.

The second door led to a longer, rectangular room, with a staircase on the far side leading upward, a plain dining table sideways across the path. Its most glaring feature was the wide, shutterless window in the left wall, more of a neatly-cut hole than a real window, and on the other side the thick, impenetrable night. Long, cylindrical shapes could be dimly made out in the dark, swaying softly in the wind. Fortune realized that the air was warm and humid, shortly before realizing something else.

“Wait a sec. That’s impossible. The library’s in the middle of the building on the second floor. We can’t be far enough to see outside.” Now her eyes held a tremulous spark of confusion, and therefore fear. Looking back the way she came, Fortune ran over her path in her head. “And...this is a window looking out left after we turned left. I should be seeing the library right now.” Her angle didn’t give her a straight view out the window, so she started moving forward, as if the library was hiding out of sight. The table lay in her way, a solidly-built thing, and very heavy.

“And we shouldn’t be standing inside a bungalow… within a library… in a police station… that was, up until recently, a museum. What else suddenly looks out of place to you?” Kazooie questioned somewhat sarcastically, more out of habit than curiosity, but not without a small amount of the latter to go with it.

“Kazooie…” Banjo uttered correctively to remind his partner of her manners while going through the booklet they found earlier to find whatever information he could on the present phenomenon.

“Right… Sorry,” she conceded. Banjo, slow in the moment (and perhaps in general) to find anything on spatial anomalies and paradoxes, having not even thought to search by such keywords, handed the book back to Kazooie, who continued picked up where he left off in his reading while he walked over to help Fortune move the table out of their way so they may get a better look ‘outside’.

Fortune had been tensing to spring and bypass the obstacle entirely, but when Banjo went to push, the cat decided to help the bear out. Better than to brush him off or something; she did appreciate him being around after all, especially since being one of two smart-talkers in the same place rubbed her the wrong way. Together they shoved the dining table out of the way, and no sooner had they done so than something came out of the dark.

A giant hand stretched through the open window and slammed down on the table, shaking the room like an earthquake and turning the furniture to splinters.

From both the surprise and impact, Banjo strongly and instinctively recoiled, both the shock to the nerves and the trembling of the foundations throwing him off-balance for a second. The book Kazooie held went flying from her grasp as she flapped frantically to steer Banjo back onto both feet, all the while cawing loudly in alarmed aggravation.

Fortune flew back, yowling in terror at the jumpscare, her wide eyes fixated on the shape outside of the window. A giant, spindly-limbed, with mottled gray-brown flesh, a stretched lower jaw with no visible mouth, and a single red eye glaring balefully into the room. The heroes were on the second floor, but the giant was hunching over to see inside, a hideous monstrosity with terrible strength.

The duo backed what they presumed with no amount of certainty to be a safe distance from the window, all but hugging their backs to the wall as the made their way cautiously to the door. Banjo sidled and tip-toed along the corner while trying to elude the creature’s prying gaze, motioning advisingly to Fortune to do the same--or similar--to make herself smaller and stay out of sight while they made their way out. On that note, before simply bolting through the door back the way they came, the two took as quick a glance through it as they could spare to see if anything had changed about the previous room without them looking. Whether they could ascertain as much before having to make an escape would be moot still, as they certainly couldn’t afford to stay where they were in such a case. If there was anything to find out about that, they would probably find it out after leaving the room.

With a final glare, the ghost moved on, disappearing from view into the night in one giant stride. With it went the sound of raspy, desperate breathing, of massive volumes of air sucking through a tiny hole. Fortune’s hair, having stood nearly on end, settled down and she joined the others heading back out. With some relief she noted along with them that nothing seemed to have changed about the room behind them, offering a safe way back to the police station. But the feral wouldn’t be forgetting that thing anytime soon.

She shuddered as she went through the door into the library, but not from any cold. “Well…” she began after a moment. “That matches the description. Safe to say that’s our ghost, huh?”

“Yeah…” Banjo concurred, hunched down with his hands to his knees panting with exhilaration to catch his breath. “I think so.”

Kazooie's feathers ruffled with a similar tremor of chill running through her. “I miss when giant ghosts ended at the wrists and just played piano,” she commented none too subtly in reference to past experience.

“We should go tell the others what we found,” the ursine directed to both of his companions.

“And then never speak of it again.” With that, Banjo casually nodded in agreement and proceeded back into the main hall with Fortune to convey to everyone else their findings.

World of Light

Level: 4 (21 -> 22/40)
Location: Ancestral Farmstead
Word Count: 604 (+1 EXP)

Stress Level: 30

Night had fallen on the land by the time the hunting party arrived at the ‘color’-blighted grounds that quickly became their battlefield. The once fertile farmland was left now grey and petrified, its hollowed-out inhabitants wandering about it, both rendered lifeless by some unknown, unspeakable phenomenon, and a beacon of otherworldly color polluted the night sky through the gaping cracks in the barn that sat at the hill’s crest. The scene was aptly set for a horrible encounter. From the barn broke forth a twisted Eldritch mockery of life and form, its horrifying wail stabbing at the nerves of everyone who heard it and stirring the slumbering drake at the foot of the hill into a furious wake. Their chance at getting the drop on their target was now gone, and their problem, doubled.

The Cadet, the Witcher, and the Koopa King set upon the dragon, being the three most qualified and capable of the group for the job, while most everyone else broke off to deal with the abomination and its surrounding mob. Hat Kid was left with a choice: quantity or difficulty? Throw her lot in with the larger group to take care of the scarier, more numberable threat, or get between the larger ally and the quantifiably bigger threat while it was busy clobbering him with massive, missile-shaped fists that covered everything they hit in explosively volatile mucus? When put like that, her decision was made obvious.

She Sprinted her way up the hill some ways behind her team, bounding over the first line of husks and executed a series of consecutive Homing dives into those that followed, using them as proverbial stepping stones to keep her going forward until she was past the horde. Once she was, she used her spare jump to keep herself airborne while turning around to fire a large blue laser from her umbrella at the crowd of them to see that they didn’t follow her or the rest of her allies uphill. By then, Tora and co. were already on top of the Thing, and he was presently paying for his zeal. Seeing this, Kid dove toward Linkle, cancelling directly above her before landing to use her as a trampoline, giving her an extra boosted jump to make it to Tora.

As she arced through the air, her perception of time slightly dilated for a moment while she cycled through her headwear to select Terry’s Cap. She then landed with a gentle hopping step off of the Nopon’s head as she channeled her hat’s rightful owner’s power, thrusting her fist forward at a downward angle to throw a midair Power Wave right in the Thing’s face. Though her’s was but an imperfect facsimile of psychometrically borrowed technique, thus weaker, it would hopefully still phase the creature enough to cause it to dislodge its tubular maw. The same power was able to tip Sweet Tooth, after all. Assuming it didn’t, however, she still followed up her attack by kicking off of the monster's forehead into a retreating backflip, incidentally avoiding getting hacked in half by Franklin, Jr., or the Centurion.

She landed on three points, exaggerating her pose slightly, before standing and adjusting her cap with a smile. As stressful and unnerving as the situation was, she was still trying to act halfway cool, chipper and smug about it, doing her best to maintain her characteristically positive and playful demeanor in the face of the maddening terror they were faced with. Still, she took things seriously enough to fall back in with the rest of her teammates in preparation for the next round of combat.

World of Light

Level: 4 (5 -> 6/40)
Location: RCPD HQ - Exterior
Word Count: 449 (+1 EXP)

True to their prediction, the two women were quickly beset upon by the angelic flock on their return flight. There was a clear disparity in self-defensive capability between the two, which left one of them pulling double to protect both of them, and while the self-dismembering cat lady managed well enough on her own, she was doing little more than simply managing, making no actual headway with their opposition. While that was going on with them, the situation on the ground began to rapidly escalate, with some of the horde being immune to the Medabot’s influence. Fortunately, the survivors inside showed up to act as reinforcements right around the time Nero and V started going to work, so Banjo and Kazooie could, for now, entrust that matter to the others while they focused directly in front of them on lending return assistance up high.

Kazooie beat her wings twice more, exhausting two Red Feathers for sufficient altitude gain to compensate for gradual loss. As fast as she could get them there, they soared in onto the rooftop, Banjo delivering a momentous front kick to the face of the first angel they came within reach of as they were touching down. Without slowing, Banjo leapt forward, diving at a pair of angels for Kazooie to catch them in a rotary Wing Whack and drag them down. While they were down at his level, Banjo followed up with his familiar three hit combo to knock the first one back into the air, hitting the second with a charging shoulder dive into an attack roll, chasing it with a reverse Rat-a-tat Rap, and finishing with a second jump to execute a heavy overhead punch to send it flying into its ally.

Around the same time as they, Jak came in behind the duo to add his own strength and some much welcomed firepower to the otherwise shorthanded rooftop squad. With three strong--and one extra--their chances of dispatching the angelic neusances in a timely fashion would see a not insubstantial improvement. If not for having this and a much bigger problem down below to deal with afterwards, Banjo and Kazooie might have asked either of the two girls about the current situation beyond what was already obvious, but they weren’t much for talking in the middle of a battle if they weren’t spared a chance to stop for it. They got the feeling that these weren’t the types of enemies to allow for such a thing as breaking for the exchange of dialogue, so it would have to wait at least another minute. For now, they simply stood shoulder-to-shoulder/back-to-back with the other two (or three), ready to engage the angels once more.

World of Light

Level: 3 (19 -> 32/30) LEVEL UP! ---> 4 (2 -> 5/40)
Location: Dead Zone - Cathedral Plaza -> RCPD HQ - Exterior
Word Count: 1449 (+3 EXP)

Power: Flight

With the help of Donnie and Gene, Banjo and Kazooie were able to punch a sizable hole in the Ent’s ability to function. They may not have cut the living tree down, but at this point it could barely move or stand, much less adequately defend itself from what came next. A man bound by cane entered the scene, approaching the Ent slowly, and the desperate treant made the mistake of swinging at what it took for helpless smashing fodder. An amorphous black golem erupted from the ground beneath him to answer the Ent's attempt with a punishing blow, and the bear and bird made quick to get out from underneath the dueling titans as they were about to enter a deadlock.

The mysterious summoner then called forth a great cat with a physical makeup to match the giant's and commanded it to strike their foe, morphing itself into a long piercing weapon to spear it's head still. This held it in place long enough to provide Jak and the monk an opening to hit it from both sides before the stranger delivered the final blow to put it out of commission. The Ent was done for, but someone forgot to tell it as much. The creature stubbornly hung on to its drastically shortened life, still leaking sickly pink fume in what passed for its last meager effort to retaliate.

Blazermate obliged Nero's command to finish it off all too eagerly, sicking the newly arriving wave of undead on it. The wizard further indulged her, raising his own mob of skeletal thrall to add to the horde, and they collectively swarmed the downed treant and began to pull it apart in an agonizing display of animalistic savagery. Banjo and Kazooie shrank back, bearing a grimace of nervous disgust and wincing gaze of morbid fascination respectively. Neither of them figured they would ever feel sorry for something that tried to kill them, but this was just pitiful. They may have been so inclined to put the creature out of its misery if they could get closer to it.

Blazer, worryingly self-satisfied with her work, simply watched on as she ordered the mutilation from afar, commanding both sets of minions with one arm while healing with the other. She rhetorically praised her new arm and its ability with a pun that, oddly, went unacknowledged by either of the duo, too dumbfounded to give any kind of answer. If this is what was to become of their healer, what could they expect of everyone else, they wondered.

As if the Ent hadn’t suffered enough, the summoner brought his panther out once more to brutally saw its head in half. Though, it soon became apparent that there was a more humane purpose for it. With a curious recitation of poetic verse from memory, he pierced the treant’s exposed core with the tip of his cane, extinguishing the last vestiges of its fading life and easing its passing. He then proceeded to deliver acquainted pleasantries and exposition unto Nero. At this point, Banjo and Kazooie had pieced together that this stranger was none other than V, the man they had been looking for. From appearances, to the way he conducted himself, to his very aura, if they could see it, this man was the epitome of an enigma, but if his demonstrated power was anything to go by, there was one thing about him they could be certain of: they were glad to have him on their side.

While explaining the nature of this ‘Qliphoth’, V happened to drop a line in his exposition; that it subsisted on human blood. This inspired a curious, but unhelpful thought in Kazooie.

“We’re not human…” she remarked quietly to Banjo. “You think that, maybe, exempts us?”

“Mmmmm-PROBABLY best to assume it doesn’t,” he answered with a slight shake of his head. “I doubt a big demon tree will discriminate much. Especially if we’re trying to bring it down.”

“That makes sense.” Kazooie concurred casually.

At Kamek's inquiry to V, the last of his three familiars showed itself to answer in jeering manner. The explanation of his (and their) role shed light on a particular commonality within their party that the duo couldn't help noticing.

"Look! It's another one of you." Banjo prodded playfully at Kazooie, playing on the fact that they were both someone's mouthy feathered friend that all but stuck to them.

"Seems like everybody has one now, she replied, referring, of course, to partners. Ratchet had Clank, Jak had Daxter, Banjo had her, and V had… well… those; personal demons, apparently, but in a more literal sense. Kamek seemed reasonably satisfied with that answer, and decided he’d had enough of the Dead Zone before bidding adieu and disappearing for greener pastures.

“Free dinner?” Banjo picked mention of meal out of the wizard’s words, and suddenly, he started wondering what was going on in the Land of Adventure and how much better a time they must have been having. “I’m starting to think we may have made the wrong choice here,” he added, cupping his chin. Kazooie said nothing, but her eyes darted around shiftily in shame for having remembered it was her idea to come here to begin with. Though, she had forgotten why, and she would make no mention of it as she turtled halfway into her partner’s backpack.

Their attention went back to Nero and V when the former called for it, and the latter set their course. As V started in that direction, he suddenly an inexplicably fell ill, prompting a reflexive jolting step forward from Banjo in an unfulfilled move to assist him. The sickly man shortly regained his composure and expressed the demon hunter's shared desire for haste.

"Speak for yourself," Kazooie retorted in a lower, more or less serious tone at his remark of having "little time to lose," genuinely somewhat concerned that he might not be able to make the trip, or that he might push himself too hard trying to. Regardless, Nero wanted to get going right away, and allowed the rest to set their own pace at which to follow.

"Don't worry. We won't be far behind you," Banjo reassured the demon hunter just as he was taking off, with V following suit soon after. The duo lingered only for long enough to gather any minion spirits (specifically those of Rot Warts) that were left unscavenged to smash together into something useful. Afterwards, Kazooie would hoist Banjo onto her back and begin to Talon Trot down the path behind the others, rhythmically chirping as she did with every step the entire way.

The obstacle wreckage, while aplenty, did little to impede the heroes' progress, for Kazooie could simply bound over most of them with no loss in momentum. Blazermate's new ability saw to the undead problem that would have otherwise made their trek much longer. The bear and bird had to admit, for a maniacal lich queen in the making--already showing onset signs of descending rapidly into madness--she was undeniably useful to have around, and with a track record to show it.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a helicopter could be spotted being accosted by a flock of… gold-winged faces? Whatever they were, they brought the chopper down alarming efficiency, and upon seeing this, everyone got into gear. They soon arrived at the crash site, a police station with an overwhelming wave of zombies between it and the group. Banjo and Kazooie were able to spot the two women on the roof, clearly in need of aid.

"I don't know," Banjo answered to Blazer's question about ally recruitment, but they look like they could use our help," he added further, pointing out the two he spotted.

"C'mon, Banjo! Let's go see if we can give them a hand," Kazooie suggested in turn. Ideally, they could just have Blazer part the lesser undead aside, but that still wouldn't get them to the rooftop where they intended to go. That, and Kazooie needed an excuse to stretch her wings, so they opted to go over the hoard. From the ramp of broken road where they stood, it wouldn't take many Shock Spring Jumps to get make it to the top of a nearby building to use as a vantage/takeoff point. Once they found a suitable spot, a blue platform with red feathers painted on it formed beneath Banjo's feet, and with a beat of Kazooie's wings, the duo shot skyward in a stream of sparkling red gust and began flying toward the station. They would be sure to look out for any more of the creatures from earlier while they were airborne, as well as spending their meager Feather supply sparingly, but as needed, to maintain altitude.

World of Light

Level: 4 (18 -> 21/40)
Location: Lumbridge - Malo Mart -> Adventurer’s Guild
Word Count: 1389 (+3 EXP)

Well, that was certainly surprising; finding out that Malo had put out a search and rescue warrant for his business rival under the written guise of clientele. Unsurprising was the way in which he attempted to write off any perceived sentimental notions on his part, pretending to practicality by "maintaining competition," which only served to make his half truth all the less convincing to anyone who thought about it. Seriously, didn't business competitors usually, like, try to control, subvert, or stamp out their competition through any and all means, often going so far as to implant their own corporate agents into powerful positions of government office to gain advantageous leverage on the free market with no regard for how their actions and influence ultimately degrade society as a whole? Be that as it may, it was admittedly nice to see a case where they help each other out for once; that they could continue to compete in more civil, mutually respectful fashion, and even treat each other more like potential partners than sworn enemies. Perhaps, there was some hope for ethical practice to find its place in a capitalistic system… (Pffft… HAHA HA HA HA HA-…)

Speaking of good business, the child shopkeeper was quick to conclude theirs, fulfilling his end of the deal, handing out the promised reward solely to Hat Kid with seemingly casual disregard for her compatriots. Having re-obtained the first (or technically third) of many Time Pieces, she momentarily suspended herself in her usual celebratory animation before acknowledging the imbalance of requital, but her teammates left the store before she could properly address that with them, Michael requesting that she pick up a bottle of the healing milk that Tressa just partook of. She looked from the swinging doors back to Malo, tacitly putting in the order with casual nod, allowing for context to take care of the rest.

While her face didn’t show it, she was astonished at the price point for a single bottle of milk: 100 rupees. The given explanation didn’t help, for apparently, the bottle itself made up ninety percent of the cost, with a refill of its contents being worth merely ten. Rather than try to cut a deal with Malo, as she attempted to do with Pyro Man back at Hammerhead, she figured now that she had the means to pay for it that she would instead prefer that to doing him any more favors today. Besides, cheapness wasn’t in her character, certainly not so much that she would subscribe to the idea that improving or preserving one’s health wasn’t worth paying for. Some things were just valuable enough to justify the expense, even if the degree of such tended to be exploitative. Though, if she was going to pay that much for the jar itself, she would make especially sure to get her money’s worth out of it, using it for future refills, storage, or whatever. She’d be fine offering a drink to whoever needed it, but she would be keeping the bottle.

With her transaction complete, Hat Kid took the milk and what was left of the monetary reward in her free hand and exited the store, richer than when she arrived, but poorer than before she left. Their timing could hardly have been better, for Linkle and the Courier, joined by some unfamiliar faces, returned from their chosen quests around that time to meet them outside. Kid stashed away the Time Piece she was cradling into her inventory before anyone else got too close to be curious enough to ask her more questions about it. It was just as everyone else started trading stories of their exploits that Hat Kid heard something on 6’s radio that made her head perk up attentively. Talk of “mysterious hourglasses” trending set off a few silent alarms in her mind. The report suggested that numerous people had already come to possess a few, which wasn’t good news to her no matter how she cut it. Either those people had no idea what they were dealing with, or they knew (or found out) exactly what they were doing and made a point of acquiring them. Regardless, there was little she could do about it at present, and they certainly weren’t going anywhere, so she would have no choice but to table this concern for when they set course for the ‘Sleepless City’... wherever that was.

As Bowser’s crew was making their way back in, the group once again dispersed for the meantime; some heading for the Guild Hall, others to finish their errands. Hat Kid, having taken care of her business already, followed with her team behind the former for little other reason than because she had nowhere better to be at the moment. This being her first time to set foot in the hall since arriving, she hadn’t until now been introduced to the Guildmarm or Guildmaster, the latter of whom could almost be mistaken for MoM (the Master of Masters) by appearances if not for the more colorful accent, mannerisms and overall character. This was also the first for her hearing about ‘ranks’ and such, as he informed them that they had collectively achieved one satisfactory enough to go after what could only be the region’s big bad, going by the description. He recommended, of course, that they make no hurry to take it on, and out of the string of nigh impenetrable slang that made up his suggestions, she could pick out and agree with one: grubbing (and possibly resting) before the hunt.

While the chefs started bringing in the first round of food, Kid stuck around Michael to see what his payment to the loot boxes yielded, returning the kindly Nopon’s smile in passing while they waited--said smile contorting into a ‘3’ shape with the head pat. Half of the rewards from the first box were mostly garbage, as far as she was concerned (unless she later felt the itch for graffiti vandalism at the expense of the depicted subjects…), but the skull cap did stand out to her. She inspected it briefly to see if it could provide her with an ability, or if it would just act as a flair for one of her existing hats. Either would be fine with her, but she wanted to wait a moment to give whoever else might want it a chance before claiming final dibs. The only other unclaimed item from the other two boxes of use or interest to her was specifically for her: a new color palette. Being as no one could rightfully contest her for it, she collected it, examined it for a moment, and stowed it away for possible application later.

After sorting through the loot, she took a seat at the dinner table and helped herself to a serving of the two sweeter delicacies, the tang yuan and jelly, taking however big a portion of each she could manage without getting greedy with them. She would rather not get sick on it later, after all, and remembering halfway through her second dish the Koopa King’s haul from earlier, this made the second time today that she would be fed out of Bowser’s hand, a fact she would be sure not to remind him of lest she end up having to cover one of his bills one day. She was neither intent on, nor in her means to grab any checks for royalty.

Speaking of payments, she tried to strategically seat herself next to Michael and/or Franklin to give back what she owed them, pausing some ways into her meal to pull out the bag of rupees, set it down on the table between her and either of them, and sliding it over, relinquishing to them what was left of the funds before taking her spoon back in hand to resume eating. Sure, they may have been fine without it, but it wouldn’t sit well with her to have their help cutting her quest time and labor in half only for them to come back from it empty-handed. She understood a little too well what it was like to help someone out who then didn’t want to give her what she was owed, which she had mentioned to Michael earlier. Besides, she already spent what would have been her share of it anyway.

World of Light

Nightmare Submission - Halloween (Partial/Incomplete)

(Title pending...)

It was a good day to be in the newly “reformed” Mafia Town, which really just made it not too much unlike most others. Even considering past experiences, there was seldom a bad day to be had here (except that one time with the volcano incident). The sun was never not out (except at night… and when it rained…), the sea remained ever calm, and from virtually any point on the island, you could get a good view of it all. It didn’t hurt that the crime rate was surprisingly low for a lawless, overcrowded island town taken over by homogeneous Mafiosos that egregiously tolled and taxed its other citizens into social decline. Yet, there was something inexplicably comforting about this place; a sense of grounding serenity within the atmosphere… almost like one could call it... ‘home.’

“Oi, Kid!” Hat Kid’s head perked up at the call that broke the child from her tranquil daze brought on by her gazing at the horizon from the high set deck where she sat. Addressing her was her former friend, then nemesis, and now sort of friend again, Mustache Girl (speaking of people who call Mafia town home).

“What are you doing up here? Don’t you know there’s a celebration going on without you? You know, to commemorate the time when you ’saved the world’ and whatnot,” she said with no small hint of halfway dismissive envy in her tone “which is… kind of exactly what I was trying to do, buuut… I guess we all learned something that day. Besides, that’s all in the past, and things are… a little better now. Bygones, and all that. So, are you just going to sit here until the sun sets and miss your own party, or are you going to come join us already?! Now, come on! They’re about to take the picture, and we at least need you in that.” At the ex-villain’s prodding demand, Hat Kid gleefully hopped to from her seat and followed behind her to join the others.

The two children arrived at a scene in disarray. An ill-qualified Mafia goon was messing with the camera, attempting to operate it, while DJ Grooves was trying desperately to get everything organized.

“Set focus… aperture... shutter speed... F stop… white balance… remove lense cap…”

"What are you doing?! Don’t change any of the settings! I just got through adjusting everything on it! Oh, I swear, I am working with complete amateurs here,” Grooves remarked, putting a palm to his head and shaking it in exasperation.

“Heh…and I thought you’d be used to that by now, Grooves,” the Conductor scoffed mocked, too busy and exhausted with trying to corral his grandchildren to assist his rival at all with preparations, but momentarily sparing the effort and attention to wittily jab at him.

“You folks look like you could use some help there,” a helpful nearby Tourist chimed in. “Maybe I could help get you guys’ picture for ya…” he suggested.

“Hmm…” the Snatcher inspected the seemingly (but not so) random samaritan, all but pretending to evaluate him based perceived competence. “Sure! You’ll do. Anyone will, at this point,” he snarked, almost in a whisper. “We'll just need you to sign here so we may… er-herm… waive off any liabilities on our part.” A contract and a pen to sign it with manifested before him from nothing, and he acted to clear his throat as he attempted to deceptively coerce their new photographer into a shady, lopsided contract agreement. Force of habit one might say. Fortunately, Kid arrived shortly beforehand and gestured to the spectre’s would-be unsuspecting victim not to sign; that it would be bad for his health. She knew that all too well.

“Umm… that’s okay. You don’t have to pay me or hire me or anything. I figure I’d just do you folks a favor while I’m here, since it’s convenient, you know."

Grooves, the self-appointed event organizer, implicitly concurred with the Tourist's voluntary conscription, and then noticed Hat Kid sauntering up next to Snatched, who she had just denied a legal slave.

"OH, would you look at that! The star of the show has just arrived," he announced with seemingly genuine excitement. "You're just in time, Darling. We were all just getting into frame," he directed with no amount of subtlety at the other attendees. "Places, everybody!" The DJ commanded everyone to assemble, never never once ceasing his obnoxious idle dance while directing them. As they were all taking their positions, Bow Kid walked alongside Hat Kid, presenting her with a Time Piece--for display purposes--and underhand tossing it to her. The look of approval she returned said that it was a good call on her partner's part, and the two exchanged prideful, sidelong glances and a fist bump before taking their places.

"Alright. Everything looks good. If we could just have you move that way a little, and you guys go ahead and scotch in a bit…" It took a minute of fine adjustment for everyone to get huddled together in-frame, but once they were set, they needed only to wait for the beep… aaannd… PO-

"Oh, wait. Hang on a sec. Memory's full. Gotta swap the card out real quick." The Conductor and Walrus Captain (among a few lesser heard others) grumbled impatiently at the momentary setback, in their own ways, and for different reasons.

"Okay. All set.., for real this time. Smile, wait for the flash, everyone say-"

"JUST TAKE THE BLOODY PICTURE ALREADY!" The Conductor ordered, having lost just about the last of his patience, yet retaining just enough to exercise uncharacteristic restraint necessary to censor himself in front of his little clones by sparing their ears and minds the use of their granddad’s favorite word. With his workload--on his day off--his frustration was understandable. Hat Kid spent a day dealing with those kids herself once, so she could empathize. Of course, simply because they could, everyone selectively misinterpreted the coincidental timing of the outburst and treated it as the thing to say.

“JUST TAKE THE BLOODY PICTURE ALREADY,” everyone repeated in (mostly) joyful unison. Their anticipation was pent up, waiting to be released with the click of a button. A red beeping light on the lense blinked for three counts, aaannd… POSE!

Hat Kid recoiled from the camera flash, startled by what she saw within it: a split-second glimpse of the Lord of Light’s initial assault on existence itself. Strange that she would see this, having not been there to witness it in person, but just as strange was that no one else seemed to see it at all or even notice her reaction to it; they were completely oblivious. Clearly, it was just a hallucination, but why was she having it? It held no place in her memory, traumatic or otherwise, so how could she possibly be ‘remembering’ it now?

At any rate, she preferred not to dwell on it. She shook the thought from her head with a blink and hopped down from Mafia's shoulder to go get a look at the photo. Some of the group took turns passing the Tourist’s camera--who politely reminded them that he would need it back soon when they were done with it--and eventually it made its round to Hat Kid. The image was… she wouldn’t say ‘perfect’, but that’s not to say it wasn’t just right. Everyone in it looked genuinely happy to be there (as much as some of them could/would allow themselves to), in the company of friends, rivals, old enemies, frenemies, and everything in-between. As luck would have it, the snapshot caught her just before she flinched. Indeed, the moment couldn’t have been captured better, but the moments that followed…

Just when she was all but free of her thoughts about the vision she had, she received a terribly vivid reminder of what it represented.

“Huh… what’s this?” Heads a few turned in the goon’s direction at the inquiry. “Why does Mafia glow?” He referred, of course, to the golden phosphorescence that began to spread over his entire form. He watched the prismatic embers drift from his skin and clothing alike as the luminous essence slowly burned at him until no space on him was left uncovered by it. Before he could even register what was happening to him, the pace of his demise was abruptly hastened when an invisible wind violently swept him away, reducing him to a silhouette in a stream of photonic dust, followed by nothing.

"Uh-oh. That can't be good," the cameraman commented before realizing that it was happening to him as well. "Oh…" was all he could get out before disintegrating in identical fashion. Snatched looked over himself to see the very same, and at a loss for words, he simply frowned in disbelief as he, too, vanished. Minus the weaponized lightstreams from before, when all worlds came to an end, the effects were mimicked almost exactly. Hat Kid's eyes went wide from the shock of realization of what was going on: the calamitous events of omniversal doomsday were repeating themselves.

She loosened her grip on the Camera she was holding, letting it drop and break against the ground as she turned to face the rest. The child hesitated to run to their aid in stunned denial of her instincts, knowingly powerless to do anything but watch them all vaporize in succession. The Goat; the Seals; the Crows; the Captain; the lone Owl; the Mafia Boss (dropped by the Owl); Rumbi; before she knew it, all of them were gone.

"Oh… darling…" was all DJ Grooves could weakly utter as his dying words, feeling himself perish. The Conductor back away fearfully, unsure of what to do other than clutch his grandchildren tightly, hoping to provide and retain some false sense of security.

“Wait… no!” He started, realizing that whatever unseen omnipotent force was at work was about to rip his grandkids away from him. “No, no, no… NO!” Sure enough, like everyone before, they were callously swept from his grasp, leaving him to fall to his knees with now empty arms reaching desperately to the wind. “Not my… my…” His voice trembled ever so slightly, conveying what his lack of visible eyes could not express. He wouldn’t be left alone with his grief for long before being taken by the light shortly after.

“W-what’s happening?!” Hat Kid turned to face Mustache Girl. “What’s happening to me?!” The typically spunky delinquent looked from the creeping glow enveloping her to her former nemesis for some kind of solution or answer, undeniably afraid of her imminent fate. “Please, do something. Make it stop! Please...” she pleaded, all but limply throwing herself at Hat Kid and clinging to her by the collar. “Please, don’t let it take me! I don’t want this!” By this point, she was almost on the verge of tears, sensing the life fading from her. “I don’t want to-” She wouldn’t have a choice. She belonged to the light now, and her ex partner in crime couldn’t save her from it.

Hat Kid looked on in horror as everyone she knew was erased before her eyes… all but one. She redirected her attention to Bow Kid, who’s eyes hung half open with the bearing of one mortally wounded. She held one hand against the spreading bright spot from her heart and reached the other out to her friend, who for the first time since the start of the event broke herself of her traumatized stupor and rushed to help her. All the same, her very being was extinguished before they could make contact. Hat Kid fell forward through the dissipating mass of her partner, coming within three times arm’s reach of the Time Piece she was holding earlier.

She tripped and stumbled over her own feet in a hurried scramble to retrieve the temporal relic and using its power to undo the apocalypse. All she had to do, she thought, was revert time to the moments before it started, doing so as many times as needed until she could find a solution. As she quickly discovered, she would never get the chance to try even once. Her hopes fell in sync with loose shards from the broken hourglass, empty of the quasi-magical sands that fueled it, as she lifted it from the pavement. Truly, just as before, there was no way out of this, and she was given no other option but to try as she could--to no avail--to accept that in her last moments.

It was around this time that she noticed what she previously mistook for the sun swelling with such radiance that it darkened the surrounding sky and everything under it by sheer contrast. From the celestial body solid streams of light finally began to shoot fire, snaking their way around the lonesome child to rapidly erode the island around her. From her perspective, she would appear to be the last thing in the world to go, and she stared unflinchingly into the all-consuming flare that closed in on her...

---

Hat Kid shot awake with a startled gasp, picking her head up off the desk to find herself in the sanctuary of her ‘secret’ pillow fort. She must have nodded off while writing about her progress on her adventure to defeating Galeem, which would explain the stressful dream. She assumed that’s what was entered in her diary anyway, for she couldn’t actually make out the words or comprehend the writings, even after rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She chalked her momentary illiteracy up to a simple case of sleep deprivation and concluded that she just needed more of it, so she placed the quill that was still in her hand back in its inkwell and crawled up through the pooled heap of pillows that buried her hideout.

She emerged bleary-eyed from the cushion pile with intentions of heading straight for bed, but on approach, she noticed a Time Piece sitting on the nightstand in front of the mirror instead of locked away in the vault, where she normally would have put it. As she went to lift the Piece from the table, she happened upon another curious finding: a photograph beneath the hourglass’s base. She picked up both and inspected the photo, recognizing it as the same one taken in her dream, but with some eerily morbid distinctions. The faces of everyone in it were crossed out in red, save for her own, which bore a more dead-eyed smile than she remembered. To add, the image was tinted in sepia tone for whatever reason, and even in the absence of color, should could tell hers weren’t quite right. When she focused on it more closely, she saw her face in the picture slowly animate, her pupils constricting and smile contorting into more of a wicked Cheshire grin, the pictured version of her directing its sinister gaze through the picture at the real her.

Unsure if what she was seeing was true, she blinked and shook her head in confusion only to reopen her eyes and find that it was back to normal; back to the way she remembered it being. She knew for sure now that her tired brain was playing tricks on her, and she didn’t need to stay up for another minute longer. Though, she allowed herself a moment to warmly reminisce on the memory she had in her hand--one that encapsulated so many others--before placing it in the frame of the mirror and making a trip to the vault to lock up the Time Piece… the one that she was no longer holding.

She looked at her hand that previously held the Piece not but a few seconds ago in surprise to find it mysteriously empty. She scanned the lower space around her to see if she had dropped or set it down somewhere without thinking, then panned her vision back up to face the mirror. In it, she saw not her own reflection, but that of a citrus-clad doppelganger holding the very same Time Piece she had just misplaced. Her mirror self stared back with eyes that didn’t feel and an almost blank smile that projected no semblance of sincere happiness. The real child had but a full second to register what she was seeing as her clone unfeelingly smashed the hourglass with both hands, not once shifting her expression or breaking eye contact while doing so. Spatial-temporal energy explosively poured out in the form of stardust, washing over everything in a burst of blinding white...

---

(Cue Theme)

The next thing she knew, Hat Kid descended onto a still platform suspended in an endless sea of weightless, breathable water with an equally expansive towering city skyline resting at its unseen floor. Laid out ahead of her was a series of structured platforms--some moving, others not--pristine in solid white textured with seemingly random arrangements of nondescript blue gem-like material. Her surroundings were unmistakable; she was in a time rift. Her only questions were ‘why’, ‘how’, and a touch of ‘what’. Why would a rift open itself from a Piece she already recovered to make her go through the extra trouble, how did it do that on its own to begin with, and what caused it to happen? None of it made any sense to her, but it didn’t matter now. From where she stood, she could see the Time Piece in question rested above a lone platform on the other end of the obstacle course. All she had to do was go get it back.

Sliding platforms, elevating inclines, spinning bridges, a few rotating prisms, revolving stairways, rising side by side walls to jump between, the obstacles and layout appeared to be mostly standard fair. Curiously, however, there were no discernable checkpoints to be found along the way, and the child would soon find out why. The stage boasted a tricky, unconventional, and potentially problematic gimmick: platforms in motion would randomly hasten, slow down, or altogether cease while she stood on them, and those at rest would begin to move. The speed at which any of the aforementioned occurred was a variable one to say the least, ranging anywhere from glacial to disorienting. What’s more was that once she left a platform to progress, it would be stripped of its axis to drift aimlessly away from the course, gradually shortening itself the farther she went.

Some time after crossing the halfway point, the structures ahead of her started to behave similarly, losing their anchoring gravity float precariously about like they were in space. With the environment clearly working against her, Hat Kid got into gear to traverse what was left of the course as it slowly came apart, and decided at one point to use the physics anomaly to her advantage. After jumping across a short subseries of rising geometry, she bounded for a moderately small cubic platform, booted the buoyant shape just hard enough to get it going, catching a handhold on one the the rectangular sapphire-like protrusions on the rotation, and timed her release to send herself sailing over what little remained of her obstacles. She landed seamlessly into a downward slide on a loose slope, vaulting from the ledge down to the home stretch, and slowing her fall to a crawl with her umbrella a couple dozen yards above the last unmoving foothold before her goal.

While she looked down at her landing zone, the child suddenly felt herself re-accelerate and plummet to the platform for a hard, unsteady landing. When she regained herself, she glanced back up to see the integral half of her parasol, disconnected from the shaft by the runner, sailing irrecoverably to the ocean’s surface. She put away what was left of her (usually) trusty multitool after a cursory inspection to redirect her attention toward her goal, which, going by her recollection, now sat farther away from the platform where she currently stood than when she first observed it at the start. It didn’t take her long to piece together the nature of the phenomenon. This was no optical illusion at work; it was actively moving farther away from her the more she progressed.

With a quick calculation in her head, she deduced that it could have moved at no greater than an estimated fifty percent of her progression rate, with a margin of error no greater than five percent. None of it really mattered though, in the face of the obvious. The flat bridge beneath her feet tapered to a narrow end in a shape resembling something between an aircraft carrier runway and a diving board, aimed in the direction of where the Time Piece rested some ways below at an obtuse angle. It became clear that the challenge was designed to be (or at least appear) functionally impossible, to see her fail or give up, but she hadn’t the slightest intention of doing either. There was always a way, and sometimes it was as simple as going against the grain and just going for it… not that she was left with much else in the way of options.

She backed up to the back ledge of the platform to give herself room for a running start, taking off in a hard sprint, into a dive, then a boosted somersault, and finally a propulsive, springing kick to the edge at the farthest end in a daring leap over the indisputably longest gap she’s ever attempted to clear. Kid could hear and feel false winds of freefall rushed past her ears in her dive, and even still, she could tell that the goal platform was inching away from her the closer she came. She reached out for the ledge, knowing that catching it would be the only chance she had of succeeding, but would ultimately end up missing it by her fingerprints. Time all but stopped for a brief, imperceptible moment as the realization set in for her that she had failed, and there would be no way back from this.

Hat Kid felt her arm nearly jerk out of socket from the sudden halt of her rapid descent. She looked up to the source of stoppage to find, of all people Linkle, reaching a hand reaching down for the child, holding her by the wrist.

“Nice jump,” she complimented. ”You almost had it.” Kid offered a soft, relieved smile to the Hylian as she moved to pull herself up to safety. Indeed, she almost made it, which made her glad for once to have someone around to make up for the difference, but this begged the question, how did SHE make it? Hat Kid didn’t see her there when she took the jump, nor did she see her at any point during the trial. The fact that anyone else was here, besides her, was strange enough as is, so how was it the green-clad heroine was here to meet her at the fiish line?

These thoughts rapidly raced through her head as she grabbed a hold of the ranger’s arm with her other hand. Too late did the realization hit her… she wasn’t. She wasn’t there. She would receive no aid from her this time, and the projected assurance of the contrary was nothing more than the Rift’s last taunt. The second she found this out, the friendly mirage that represented Linkle dissipated into a grey, murky cloud, like a fistful of silt washing away in a stream.

The helping hand extended to her crumbled in the child’s grip, severing her hold on solid ground and leaving her to fall helplessly into the bottomless blue. Though, her descent was more gradual than what gravity would naturally allow for. It was more akin to falling from orbit, a sensation she was keenly familiar with, and it occurred to her shortly that she wasn’t falling at all; she was sinking, feeling the waters of this dimension for the first time. Sadly, it changed nothing about her predicament, for they were no more physically substantial than would be empty air, and she could not swim them, try as she might. After exercising the briefest moment of futile struggle to find that out, she ceased and resigned herself to her fate. She spent what she expected would be her last conscious moments staring at the heavens, looking at the lone foothold and beyond it to the rays of light beaming through the ocean’s surface that acted as this dream world’s ceiling. She was given ample opportunity to see this, knowing that it would be for the last time, as the blackness of the depth soon deprived her of her senses, bringing her ever downward…

(Fade Theme)

(To be continued; due for completion...)

(Current) Word Count: 4121

World of Light

feat.

Michael and Franklin

@thedman

Level: 4 (15 -> 18/40) | 4 (22 -> 25/40) | 3 (16 -> 19/30)
Location: Forest Temple -> Lumbridge - Malo Mart
Word Count: 1506 (+3 EXP)

Exiting out of the blue door, Hat Kid skipped to a stop upon laying eyes on the two men from before. Surprised to see them there in the first place, she locked eyes with them in a blank, wordless staredown, narrowing her eyes with intense scrutiny of her presumed competitors for the bounty. Seconds passed, tension building between them, until… she eased it off with a gentle smile and shrug of her shoulders.

What? You thought she wouldn’t be okay with this? Why wouldn’t she be? They were people she at least recognized, both carrying a painting apiece. As far as she was concerned, they just helped her out by cutting her work load in half.

She casually pitter-pattered over to the altar and offered to the blue flame its demanded sacrifice.

”Two…” she uttered, picking up on her countdown that she previously neglected to start.

As Michael and Franklin exited the room, it turned out that Michael's prediction had been correct. The hat-wearing kid was there, with the remaining paintings in tow. Michael tried to shout out to her, but his words were drowned out by the cries of the fire creatures. Looking down to their paintings, Michael gave Franklin a nod, picking up one of the paintings while Franklin grabbed the other. With all the paintings assembled, they could finally get rid of the flames and complete their quest. One after another, the paintings were dropped into the fires, until only one was left. With the last painting being placed into the flames, the cries of the spirits mercifully died down as the fire went down with it.

Soon after, the woman who had been held in the center of the flames emerged, wrapping her saviors into a hug. Michael and Franklin stood there somewhat awkwardly, not used to being treated like the heroes, and Hat Kid tried in vain to free an arm with her face squished against everyone else’s and her hat tilted askew. The girl, ecstatic with relief, tearfully explained her situation.

”There, there…” said the child while gingerly patting her on the back, so much as her overjoyed human constraint would allow. After getting her show of gratitude out of her system, she eventually released her three rescuers and dropped to her knees, likely too exhausted to move much more on her own.

When she stepped back, though, it was clear why she was so thankful. The girl looked terrible- she was dirty, tired, and looked like she hadn't eaten or drank anything in days. "We'll get you out of here." Michael said, looking over to Franklin. "Frank, get her into the truck. Get her a drink if we have it, too."

Franklin nodded, reaching out a hand to Tressa. "Come on." He would begin to bring her towards the exit, helping to support the girl in her weakened state.

Michael, meanwhile, would focus his attention to the kid. He crossed his arms, looking down at her with a slight frown. "So...you mind telling me what's so important about that hourglass that you ran off by yourself? 'Cause I thought we were supposed to be a team here."

At the question, the child sheepishly avoided eye contact with a delayed apology for ditching them back at the store, poking the tips of her index fingers together in a mild fidget while she looked for the words. It was nothing personal against them; she just couldn’t risk anyone beating them there to obtain it, and that going it alone was mostly force of habit for her. Plus, she came to this world with them (which meant they were hers to begin with, she emphasized), so that kind of made it her problem to deal with. She added that she hadn’t had the best of experiences trusting or working with others, with one unmentioned exception.

Come to think of it, why was she so atypically apologetic? She wasn’t (and never has been) really obliged to explain anything to anyone, and she was never sorry for anything she did, especially when it came to the less than savory people she usually had the misfortune of dealing with. But these two, everyone else, she didn’t actually know them. The most she could assume was that the green-clad archer, Linkle, and Tora, the one who freed her of the Lord of Light’s influence, were the least doubt worthy among them in her mind.

That reminded her… whether anyone likes it or not, they were ALL in this together. They would have to work together if they ever hoped to succeed in their ultimate goal. Perhaps, this guy was right. They were supposed to be a team, and she allowed her personal goal to cloud her judgement regarding that. It must be little wonder that anyone would consider her selfish...

Anyway, she thanked Michael for his and his partner’s help and suggested that they get going, conveniently and intentionally failing to address the first half of his question regarding the importance of Time Pieces. If he was paying enough attention to notice as much, he would understand why.

Michael's frown faded into a more neutral expression as the kid explained her reasoning. He could understanding wanting to go it alone- he had dealt with plenty of people with that same attitude. He could also understand her distrust of others, since his life of crime had instilled a sense of suspicion towards unknown people and their motives. And since these hourglass things came from her world, it seemed that she viewed them as her responsibility. Overall, he couldn't find any reason to be angry at her. Sure, he was a little disappointed that she hadn't thought to ask them for help, but given that their team had only been together for a relatively short amount of time (even if it felt like an eternity), it was to be expected. As she finished her explanation, his brow furrowed as he realized that she hadn't actually answered his question. Ah, I'll ask later...

As she suggested that they begin to get moving, Michael nodded along. "Yeah, we should go..." He began to head for the door, but paused after a few steps. He turned around, spotting Baba still loitering near the center of the room. He still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the rabbit-like creature, but he wasn't going to let him be left behind in the temple. "Let me just handle this first."

He walked up to Baba, looking down at the creature. "Uh...hey?" His words caused Baba to look in his direction, so he continued. "We're getting out of here. You should really come with us." Despite Michael's attempts, Baba didn't seem to understand him. Michael groaned as he looked down at the creature. He's an animal, Michael. Of course he can't understand you. He crouched down somewhat, patting his leg as he looked towards Baba. "You wanna come with me, buddy?" He asked in as friendly of a voice he could pull off, patting his legs and making gestures towards himself and the door. That seemed to get his attention, the rabbit creature beginning to follow Michael. With Baba in tow, Michael headed out of the temple.

---

Once outside the temple, Michael directed Baba into the monster truck before getting in himself. Franklin had been waiting behind the steering wheel, while Tressa sat next to him, trying to calm down and relax after her ordeal. Hat Kid mounted up on her vehicle--her slower, much smaller, and significantly less powerful Scooter--jumped it into the bed of the truck, ramping up and off one of the rear tires to do so, and parked it there where she would have her own seat for the return trip. Once everyone was inside, Franklin started the engine and began the long drive back. The voyage back to Lumbridge was easier than the voyage to the temple, thanks to the monster truck having trampled a path through the wilderness that they could easily follow. It was a long drive, but they eventually made it back to the town, Franklin parking the truck with the rest of the group's vehicles before shutting off the engine and getting out.

Michael and Franklin both took a moment to stretch as they exited the vehicle, the blood flowing back into their legs after sitting for the entire ride. Michael looked towards Tressa as she exited the truck. "So, it was the, uh...shopkeeper guy that gave us the quest, so you should probably come with us so we can claim the reward. And maybe we can get you some food and water, and all that." He gestured towards the town's entrance. Kid, not bothering to re-park her moped, disembarked the monster truck and headed straight for the general store where she picked up her assignment--in less of a hurry than when she left or arrived initially. While the other two continued attending the ailing merchant girl, the behatted child led the way in, showing some consideration in minding the door for them.