"Even if it weren't somewhat toxic, it would still be disgusting. But if it's eat or be eaten..."
And
Siphon Grenade
"A grenade that sticks to whatever it hits and leeches health from living things near it, which it returns to the thrower. One use only; breaks after working for 6 seconds"
As they got closer to the infested tank Jr had a few moments to inspect his stolen loot. One was a strange red grenade covered in roots or vine like growth while the other... Jr sniffed the new hunk of flat meat and immediately wrenched in disgust. ”Ew! Gross!” Unsurprisingly zombie meat was not appetizing in the slightest.
The two items were left on the trolley as jr stood to confront the final enemy in the area. The hyper muscle freak was already taking a beating as the trolley drew closer to it. Magical blasts from flying heroes and bullets from the Gallem influenced allies tore at its flesh from all sides. It seemed unsure on what to focus, abandoning its pursuit of the other band and tossing the odd projectile at the hero party, until Blazermate’s sentry opened up on it. The crack of automatic gunfire and sting of bullets seemed to draw its ire far more than any of the other heroes’ attacks. With a roar it started to rampage towards Banjo's vehicle.
”Alright, nice work Blazermate!” jr called out cockily as the tank came for them. Yet that arrogance rapidly fell away it came closer, seemingly shrugging off the sentry's torrent of bullets like they were nothing. A ball of goop lobed from the paintbrush did little to help and so, panic gnawing at him, jr blindly grabbed for the weird ball and lobbed the first thing he found it at the tank.
As the slab of Rotten Flesh slapped the Tank in the face and it subsequently tanked the rockets of the auto turret too Jr’s panic erupted and he decided it might be good to get out of the way of the bullrushing monster. Snatching the Siphon grenade from the he leapt onto the teleporter and vanished mere moments before the tank plowed into the cart.
Jr found himself back in the village panting for breath, quickly stepping off of the teleporter to avoid being sent back into the arms of the juggernaut.
”Ok. Maybe I'll give this place a shot.” he concluded as he walked over to his clown car and stored the grenade inside it. After waiting a few moments to make sure the teleporter hadn't either exploded or dumped the tank into the village jr set of to find his father, correctly assuming that everything was fine on the other side.
”I'm glad we’re… surpassing your expectations I suppose.” Kamek said, slightly offended by the suggestion that they could have been so incompetent as to be foiled by a simple ditch. People didn't exactly reach his ripe old age without learning how to get across a few bottomless pits after all.
”A few of the heroes took it upon themselves to go into the dead zone too. Hopefully they are handling that as well as heroes seem to be able to handle everything.” he added informatively before the Master got round to answering his question.
”Well that is unfortunate” Kamek said in response to finding out that the Master of Masters and the Guildmaster where simply wearing a common protective garb from their home universe. Apparently his actual pupils did not even share his fashion sense. ”If I meet any of these proteges of yours I’ll let them know about this place.” Kamek promised. He did not sympathize with the master’s plight but more allies were always useful.
Despite the lack of much useful info Kamek did not feel like the trip had been a complete waste.
”I have to say, I do love what you’ve done with the place.” The room, part homely, part resplendent and was a far better laboratory than the dank and dark one he had woken up in yesterday. The assortment of tomes, equipment and parchments all arose a certain intellectual curiosity in the old Koopa. You did not master magic over decades without poking your nose in any and all opportunities to learn more after all.
”before I go, may I ask what are you working on up here? And what is this ‘darkness’ you mentioned?” he asked, squinting at the book the master had been writing before he entered.
While Bowser slowly and indecisively poured over the quests Linkle and the Curior came in to take a look at the available missions as well. Both ended up suggesting they simply do all of them rather than picking and choosing, which simplifies things somewhat, but the courier was the only one who decided on something specific to do first, namely capturing Wigglers.
”WOULDN'T UNDERESTIMATE THOSE WIGGLERS IF I WERE YOU. USE EM IN MY ARMY SOMETIMES. THEY GOT A SHORT FUSE AND TEMPER TANTRUMS LIKE A RUNAWAY TRAIN,” he warned/boasted.
Eventually, after much consideration, the king went with his gut. Which meant he chose the quest that had food as a reward. Even if it seemed a little too close to manual labor for his tastes, the King was willing to investigate the task if it meant securing a free dinner, something that would taste extra good after such an expensive lunch. Besides, likely he could just pawn of the quest to the whole team, get em to picks stuff up as they traveled across the zone.
Just after he was finishing up his thoughts and wondering how to find out the ingredients list he was interrupted. Looking up from the card he found a human with long white hair, plenty of scars on his face who was wearing chain-mail and a boat load of medieval weaponry. Probably an adventurer, Bowser concluded. The king checked his eyes and found them red, as expected, and that they had vertical slits, which was unusual. Probably. He wasn’t a human expert.
The man introduced himself as Geralt, and asked if they were new to the area.
”YEAH. WE ARE,” the king responded, missing that the question had been rhetorical, ”I’M BOWSER, THE KOOPA KING! SOON ENOUGH EVERYONE IN THIS TINY TOWN’S GONNA KNOW THAT, AND THEN EVERYONE IN THIS WHOLE MIXED UP WORLD WILL TOO.” he boasted thoughtlessly as he introduced himself. ”AND THESE TWO ARE SOME OF MY MINIONS.” he added, pointing at the Courier and Linkle.
Then he realized he could probably get some useful info out of this guy who was probably a regular in town. He double checked the ‘food for the hungry’ quest card and then spun it round for Geralt to see as he asked ”DO YOU KNOW WHO/WHERE THIS ‘MINA’ IS?”
The great storm which was Ashalla rolled over the frozen north of Galbar. Winter-spirits burrowed into the ice to avoid the blizzard which scoured the ice sheet. Tendrils of fog curled through the endless plain of ice sculptures, feeling their myriad forms.
There were many varieties of trees and plants and even a few mushrooms. There were depictions of many beasts such as wolves, monkeys, bears, foxes, moose, penguins, seals, direwolves, griffons, trolls, ghouls, whales, molves, crows, alma, aquatic serpents, long-necked armoured flippered creatures, shark-like creatures with wings and legs, gemstone gardeners, vitasaurs, magpies, elk, goats, bilbies, tree-eaters, possums, and countless more. There were a few sculptures which depicted some specific creatures: a direwolf with only one eye; a sleek quadrupedal predator with a clubbed tail; a five-headed dragon; a collection of abstract curves collected into a vaguely humanoid form with two pole-arms; a whale with some kind of armour; a tyrannosaurus rex; a humanoid woman with antlers and hooves. There were multiple sculptures of a fine manor in various stages of disrepair. There were also sculptures of little huts, of Dreamers, of a Shengshese manor, of Hermes and Xiaoli and Arya and Laurien.
As Ashalla inspected the sculptures, learning about what land-dwelling creatures the winter-spirits had seen, she came across one ice sculpture much too large to have been made by the tiny winter-spirits. It was almost a hundred metres tall, and looked exactly like Chopstick Eyes. This meant someone else had been here, possibly Chopstick Eyes.
Casting her senses about, Ashalla detected another peculiar specimen. This was a winter-spirit, but rather than being the normal white and blue of ice, it was painted in red, green and gold. An eddy pulled the winter-spirit into the clouds which were Ashalla. A brief taste told her the colouring came from algae living on the surface of the icy being.
“What wonderful colours,” she burbled. The algae required the winter-spirit to acquire some salts beyond its normal diet of just water, but these were readily available in the ocean. Several other winter-spirits she could sense also had colourful markings.
She tasted the winter-spirit again, this time analysing the flavours more closely. She knew that if she looked hard enough, the signature of the artist would be present. Then she found it, faint as it was: residue of divine essence. Chopstick Eyes’ divine essence.
Now that her senses were attuned to faint traces of divine essence, she noticed trails in the ice. The statue had indeed been made by Chopstick Eyes, and that goddess’ trail (after considerable wandering) appeared to lead approximately north. But there was another set of trails which Ashalla noticed, heading due north. Three distinct essences mingled in this trail: one she recognised as Kalmar, another she could identify as Arae, and a third she could not identify but it had a stench of death about it similar to Katharsos.
Ashalla looked north. These gods had gone ahead to Azura and her vault. The clouds within Ashalla twisted into tight eddies. The wind changed, and Ashalla flew north.
The towering mountain at the top of the world rolled across the horizon and into view. Azurian constructs patrolled around the mountain, including two very large ones which mirrored what Ashalla had seen in the winter-spirits’ ice sculptures. Overhead flew Alma, although Ashalla’s presence diverted the flight paths of many of the birds. One of the Alma dove ahead of Ashalla and projected an image of a familiar whale.
“Hello there. What brings you...” the whale began to say again, only to be interrupted by a faint voice nearby wherever it was transmitting from.
“Oh thank goodness. It’s just Ashalla. You don’t need to stall this time Luis. Yes I’m sure, you don't need to frown like that. I can sense it even if she looks different. It’s a god thing,” Azura told her gigantic companion before drifting up into the view of the Alma, the goddess of wind currently in a Merfolk form which swam through the air as if it were water.
“Hay, hello!” she said once she was visible. “It’s lovely to see you again.” Azura was mostly smiling pleasantly but there was a hint of worry visible as she asked, “Is this a social visit?”
Ashalla rumbled briefly. The form did not look like Azura last time she met her, but the voice was the same, and this new form possessed numerous motifs which were similar to Azura’s original form. “Yes,” Ashalla answered. Ashalla continued to fly towards the Isle of Twilight, the message-delivering Alma being blown along with her.
The brief pang of worry slipped off of Azura’s face at the word “Excelent excelent. Please do come up,” she said via the wind swept Alma, “Oh, and Choppy is visiting as well. I’ll introduce you once you arrive if you have not met already.”
In the distance, a tiny figure attempted to leap onto a hammer-drake and missed.
“How convenient. I had been hoping to see her,” Ashalla said.
Ashalla soon reached the ring of mountains surrounding the north pole. Where before she had struggled to scale the steep slopes, as a cloud she easily flew over the obstacle. As she passed, wind and rain licked against the various constructs, tasting them, and a symphony of Verse accompanied her passing.
When Ashalla reached the polar spire, she wrapped around it. She noted that the trails of Kalmar, Arae and the death-touched deity did not descend into the Vault. Then the ascending winds driven by the Sky Bastion caught Ashalla, and she rode those winds up into the Blue. There she blossomed outwards, Ashalla’s form engulfing the floating fortress, tendrils of mist creeping through the corridors.
As she settled atop the castle in the sky, Luis, and one of the free floating temples which Choppy had been launching her hammerhead capture attempts from, drifted closer. The erratically designed structure, older than the continents of Galbar, was a ball of masonry, soil and foliage with no real top or bottom that drifted lazily through the air at the behest of Azura’s winds. Azura herself was found sitting on the wrong side of a parapet of a tall tower that currently jutted out horizontally from the floating structure.
“Hello Azura,” Ashalla greeted with a voice like a monsoon. “Hello… Choppy.” The name was said uncertainly.
“Hello Ashaaaaaaaaaa...” trailed off the scream in the distance as the god disappeared into a low speck, then inflated again into a silk chevron.
“Hello Ashalla! It’s so to see you again, though I would appreciate it if you ceased probing my home before-” Azura began before one of Ashalla’s tendrils of mist was met with a violent gust of wind trying to force it back out of the room it was invading, the rush of power accompanied by a great deal of swearing.
“Ah, too late. I see you have found my...” Azura paused momentarily, unsure as to how to properly describe the person she had once been given a second life.
“That you have found Cerule,” she concluded, her tone apologetic.
Ashalla did not push into the room she had been rejected from, but she did not withdraw from the rooms she had filled either. “Who is Cerule?” Ashalla asked.
“She’s who I was before I came to the Architects realm. Or a compressed version of her, anyway. Long story short, she made a deal with a being in the void known as Ludicium to find redemption after abandoning her home realm. The price of this redemption was death, and from her ashes I arose. Yet she feared death, as we all do, and so hid a part herself away inside my newborn mind rather than commit to the deal in full. There’s more, but I won't bother you with the details, tales of memories suppressed and the Watcher from the void, but in the end she and I have split apart and now both wield the power I was given here,” Azura explained.
There was a surprised pop followed by a long rumble as Ashalla processed this new information. “Interesting,” was her eventual conclusion.
Then a slit-like window on the section of the wall outside the room Ashalla had attempted to enter was violently expanded, the stone turned back to wind by a divine hand.
Out of this new window leaned Cerule. Her semi-avian Armonia body still wore the cloak of many colored feathers with which Azura had adorned it’s shoulders while she lived in it, but beneath this the old goddess had put on a scarlet robe. Arcane symbols relating to protection had been stitched into it with copper wire, mostly focused around the cuffs and hem of the outfit, however the runes of magic from a distant world lacked the ability to direct magical power in this land so far and different from their home plane.
“I’d appreciate it if your guests wouldn't make a mess of our work while you’re taking a break, Azura!” Cerule complained, waving a loosely sleeved hand fruitlessly at the mist enveloping the fortress with one hand.
“I go where I please,” asserted the mist with a peal of thunder.
“Same!” chipped a smaller figure, stuck outside one of the very same windows Cerule had temporarily evaporated. “Turns out hang-gliding is really, really easy in the Sphere of WindoooOOh OOoh shit I’m slipping ffff-” There was a scrabbling sound as a fresh drizzle wet the stone of the fortress and Chopstick scrabbled to keep her grip. Within a few seconds she had failed, and her face disappeared from the window.
“The sentiment is nice and all, and it could be said I’d be a hypocrite to complain,” Cerule complained while Azura dove down from her island perch after the falling Choppy. “But I’m trying to wrap my head around ‘zura’s experiments in here and having a consistent environment is kinda important for that. It's a lot harder trying to use this divine magic stuff than just watching I’ll tell you that. Especially when none of the old stuff works. Old dog, new tricks, etc.etc.”
There was a wet huff from Ashalla.
Cerule, having finished complaining, slumped against the frame of her new window rather than continue to bat fruitlessly at the invading mist. “Ah whatever, it can wait. Wasn't getting anywhere anyway. So, what brings you here, your wateryness?” she asked the stubborn fog floating outside.
“I came to speak of what you are doing with the souls,” Ashalla announced in a voice like crashing waves, audible to all present.
“Yeah? We get that a lot. Kalmar, Arae and Roog came by earlier asking the exact same thing,” Cerule responded as Azura and Choppy reappeared into her field of view, the former carrying the other. The fishy goddess approached the wall and carefully dismantled it further to form an entryway into which she landed and placed Choppy inside.
“I swear you're doing that on purpose,” Cerule murmured to Choppy, who stuck her tongue out as Azura dusted herself and turned to the misty goddess.
“Come on in, then, and I can show you around now that Cerule has put her work on hold,” she told Ashalla before heading into the magical laboratory. The clouds which were Ashalla billowed behind Azura. They stretched out to touch everything in the room.
“...So, you keeping busy?” said Chopstick Eyes, looking around into the merry fog and storm.
“Yes. I’ve been teaching selka about music and art, and I had just come from a lovely concert K’nell hosted for me. It was most wonderful,” Ashalla chimed. “I noticed a few winter-spirits which had been coloured with algae, and identified it as your handiwork. It is a beautiful addition.”
“Aww, thank you!” Chopstick made a heart-symbol with her hands. “You should show me your work some time. Who’s Selka? I might be able to pass on some tips and tricks myself, if he seems nice.”
“The selka are a sapient species who live on the south-east coast of Atokhekwoi. Their anatomy can be described as halfway between seals and dreamers,” after a moment, Ashalla decided to add, “who themselves are patterned after the common form adopted by many of the gods. It would appear that Kirron is their creator.”
“Oh, rock boy. He flattened me once,” said Choppy, who fully intended to return the favour… one day. “Where’s Atokhekwoi, is it a Sphere? I’ll pay ‘em a visit. Take some on tour to my water forest. It’s warm and sunny and amazing, apparently.”
“Atokhekwoi is the largest continent of Galbar,” Ashalla explained. “This water forest- do you refer to the one in the ocean west of Dragon’s Foot with the overgrown leviathan angler chained beneath it, or the lava-bearing growths in the boiling strait?”
“...The Saluran? Don’t be silly. Forests have leaves,” said Chopstick. “Glad to see you met my big fish, though. Ain’t she just a cutie?”
There was a huff, although Ashalla admitted, “It is a specimen of considerable power. The forest too is quite a well-made ecosystem.”
A soft ‘yaaay’ travelled down the corridor.
As the titanic and tiny god conversed, the two goddesses of the wind had engaged in a combination of hushed discussion and impromptu tidying of the large room they were all in. Helping them in this was Sun Jian, who had remained out of sight while Cerule mouthed off at the ocean goddess. His Armonia body was clad in a similar robe to Cerule, though it was unadorned by defunct runecraft.
“This is Sun Jian,” Azura eventually introduced the servant, “A mortal whose Soul Crystal has been enshrined within a construct known as an Armonia to gain life after death.”
The undead servant bobbed with a bow to greet the two guests. “A pleasure to make your acquaintances. It is especially good to be graced by your presence once more, mighty Ashalla. I have been aiding noble Azura with her quest ever since she plucked me from the sky pyres, sparing me from a second fiery death, and gave me an opportunity to be a part of this project.”
The clouds swallowed Sun Jian briefly, leaving him slightly damp. “That’s one use for the soul crystals.”
“There are a few others like him, and we intend to raise more. The work I do is for mortals, so it is only right that they play a part in shaping the way we surpass Katharsos’ vision of death,” Azura explained. “And this laboratory is where we have begun to chart our journey down that path.”
The laboratory itself was something of a mess, with a large array of experiments littering benches and tables, but could be split into two areas. The first, Azura and Cerule explained, was for researching ways to replace Katharsos’ pyres with a more ethical form of death and rebirth.
First there were two sets of jars or containers. The first contained soul ash in very small amounts, held back from escaping by their storage receptacles. The ash instead swirled and cycled within, restlessly seeking out new life yet unable to reach it. The ash, it was explained, was not sourced from the burned of the void souls, but instead had been formed raw by Divine power. The process was, Azura admitted, excessively inefficient at the moment and thus un-viable unless better means where found.
Another bench was littered with various materials: crystals, stone, metal, jars of fluid and gasses. All of these had had information inscribed into them, attempts to replicate the personality-housing abilities of souls. None had been particularly successful however.
Finally the largest section contained a number of enclosures for simple creatures, predominantly the Tonnikala equivalent of krill. There were also numerous soul crystals, utterly tiny and feather light ones, that had been harvested from other, now deceased specimens. The purpose of all this became clear once Azura performed a demonstration. First she picked up one of the tiny soul crystals. Then a flying krill egg was formed by her will. Finally the two were introduced to one another, the soul crystal regaining its incorporeal form which was pressed into the egg, ejecting the blank soul that had formed there already, which was whisked away to the pyres, already decaying as it went due to its utter lack of identity.
“Reincarnation,” Azura explained, “To live life after life after life, to accrue generations of knowledge and wisdom from all races and cultures of the world. It is, in effect, immortality without the risk of stagnation and also a way to walk in the shoes of all others.”
“Oooo,” said the shortest god in the room, trying not to fidget, or fiddle with the equipment.
There were a vast number of logistical and magical barriers in the way of actually implementing an automated reincarnation system, but the principle was there, demonstrated for all to see.
“Now a decision has not been made as to how exactly we will be going forwards. We have entered into a pact with the party that came with Kalmar earlier to postpone such a decision until a proper conference can be called with all the concerned gods. Including Katharsos himself,” Azura explained, her tone showing clear dislike at the prospect of meeting the god she had stolen from not so long ago.
Ashalla rumbled thoughtfully for a long time. “I see you have already made progress in determining how to avoid the collapse of the life cycle. This is good. There is still much to be done, but my estimates give at least a thousand years before there is any notable reduction in the soul ash concentration.”
“1000? I’ve done more with less,” Cerule casually gloated.
“But we’ll do it right this time,” Azura chided her reckless predecessor.
There was a pause, then Ashalla asked, “Did Kalmar suggest that this was beyond your power?”
“The hunter didn’t give predictions about the feasibility of my plans and we agreed to disagree on what to do should I fail. He was more interested in knowing that I was working on the issue and extracting concessions for his support in the matter.”
“And for party’s non interference,” Cerule added.
“That too. Mainly that to be honest. The specifics of cooperation need to be ironed out, likely at the same time as we decide on a course of action, but even the tacit agreement of support means I can safely assume they won't be meddling. The less I have to watch my back in this the better,” Azura explained.
“That is convenient for you,” Ashalla said. “Barring interference from other deities, I am confident in your ability as a god to achieve this task. As divines we command reality itself - do not let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Oh? Thank you! Your confidence means alot to me,” Azura responded, genuinely pleased at the external source of validation.
“Unfortunately we don't have the luxury of everyone being at least neutral in this,” Cerule said, directing attention to the other set of experiments in the room.
The second was newer, and dedicated to solving the little problem that Orvus had introduced to the vault. Several corrupted gems where held for examination by metal stands, while the culprits for their damaged state could be found nearby. A large glass tank held numerous Soul Fiends, the rotten husks of soul crystals given life by Orvus to destroy and multiply. The numerous beasts hacked and clawed at their enclosure or tried to eat a sealed entrance at the top of the tank, yet so far they had failed to escape. A pair of imp sized Armonia watched the bugs, standing on either side of the Soul Fiends enclosure atop the same bench. Their tank was placed upon numerous tentacles of Verse extending from their backs ready to lash out and recapture the beasts should they succeed at escaping.
Finally a number of krill soul crystals, all featuring various stages and intensities of corruption, were arrayed near the tank. Some had been partially dissected, or showed signs of the decay being healed.
“This corruption is the work of Orvus,” Azura explained, “he snuck into the vault when I was away and infested it with these awful creatures, that corrupt and decay the souls of the dead.”
“We have exterminated or captured most of them, or so we believe,” Sun Jian added, “but the monsters still managed to destroy or damage many of my fellow dead before we discovered the rot.”
The clouds studied Azura and Sun Jian for a few moments, before saying, “That is unfortunate for you. Although it appears to be something well within your capacity to handle.”
“I’d almost be insulted by how little power was used to do this if it wasn't so insidiously effective,” Cerule said.
“Only because I was too blind to discover it sooner,” Azura muttered bitterly. “Were it not for curious mortal minds...” she shuddered at the thought of a vault filled with nought but screaming splintered husks and swarms of Soul Fiends.
Cerule sympathetically patted her new self on the shoulder, while Sun Jian politely refrained from commenting on the Goddess’s gross negligence. There was a wet huff from Ashalla.
After pulling herself back together Azura asked, “Well, now you know what I have been/will be up to, but how about you? What plans do you have for the world?”
“I have been sharing with the mortal races the means to create beauty, with music, painting and other forms of art,” Ashalla answered.
The traces of guilt and regret were pushed completely off Azura’s face as she heard this, her eyes lighting up at the news. “That’s wonderful to hear! Which ones? Where? I’d love to go see and listen to what they have made some time.”
There were some distant, vaguely affirmative bangs and clatters from wherever Chopstick Eyes had wandered off to.
“The selka, on the eastern coast of Atokhekwoi, the largest continent,” Ashalla answered.
“That... doesn't narrow it down that much,” Azura said sheepishly.
"It's not like we have maps for her to point out where she means exactly," Cerule said, before snapping her fingers, "except we have the Blue! Hey Ashalla, wanna see the best thing about the sphere Azura made? All we need to do is go up."
“Yes, that seems like something good to see,” Ashalla answered.
"Alright alright," Cerule said as she strutted over to the window. Then she whistled a complicated little song. Powered by her divine power it echoed out and caught the attention of its intended target. From the skies a sky serpent came roaring, plunging down to them. Yet even that mighty beast was cowed by Ashalla’s presence, slowing before it hit the storm and instead gingerly slinking up to the window.
"Coming?" Cerule asked the gods and mortal within as she mounted the terror of the skies.
The Sky Serpent swam through the air, bearing its three passengers who clung to its back, one behind the other, with varying levels of intensity. Ashalla rose beside them as a colossal cumulonimbus, Chopstick a speck gliding on her updrafts with a bag of questionably obtained scientific apparatus.
Around them flitted all kinds of Tonnikala, making it appear as though they were in a surreal waterless sea. Many passed through the cloud which was Ashalla, and there was a burbling from her. “I am pleased to see you have taken inspiration from my sea life for your own ecosystem here.”
“The first was something of a coincidence,” Azura said, smiling softly at the memory of the tuna incident, “But the rest was definitely inspired by your work. And. Borrowed. Slightly,” she said, in reference to the ascension of the various northern sea life into the sky before adding, “Luis is particularly fond of the cetaceans you made.”
There was a burble in response. “Your own creative touch is also quite good.”
“It was an enjoyable indulgence. I intend to teach mortals how to summon them as Cerule did, along with the Armonia, but till then they make nice decoration and watch dogs for the Vault,” Azura explained.
There was a brief rumble. “I have also taught a few mortals how to call and control storm spirits using music. Perhaps there can be some collaboration there.”
“You have? Great minds think alike then it seems. I’m still thinking about how to deal with the power problem for living mortals, to project the songs up into the Blue and form the bodies of Armonia from the air. The dead can draw energy from the heat around them for power, the same power that rules them. Their soul crystal forms are designed with the intention of wielding that power however, while I fear that having living mortals draw from their own energy could be dangerous indeed. Regardless, I’d still love to trade arts. Perhaps once we have seen what Cerule wishes to show you?”
There was another contemplative rumble. “Yes, that would be beneficial.”
The serpent soared higher and higher, the sky bastion below falling away. And yet the Blue continued, far beyond the point that the air should have thinned and the lesser void should have claimed the breath from their lungs.
Below them Galbar fell away, yet so too did its horizons. Space shrank, bent and contorted till all the world was splayed out below them, a distant atlas of the planet the bickering gods had painted together.
"Good, isn’t it," Cerule said.
“I’ve heard of so many of those places,” Sun Jian said from where he clung to the sky serpent's back, “But to see them all laid out like that. Truly fascinating.”
“A most peculiar distortion, although one with utility,” Ashalla commented.
“It’s old. One of the first things I did,” Azura said, dismissing the marvel despite the pride clear in her tone.
“To warp space in such a way is a marvel,” Ashalla said.
“Thank you. You're too kind,” Azura replied.
Chopstick admired in silence all the places she had and had not visited on her early flights, but her gaze kept creeping back to the spiralling rainclouds of Ya-Shuur’s island.
"So where are these artistic selka?" Cerule said, "Because from up here they’re just a short drop away."
A strand of cirrus stretched out from Ashalla, and pointed along the south-eastern crux of Atokhekwoi. “I taught selka all along that coast about music.” Another strand stretched out, pointing to the large island just south-east of the continent. “I taught the Wuhdige tribe there about painting.”
Azura followed the strands with curious eyes. “I see. It has been quite some time since I last went to Atokhekwoi.” She’d been there chasing the Alma when they had discovered the Ihokhetlani there. She wondered how they were doing.
“Then we’ll have to pay it a visit in the future,” Cerule said.
”When we have the time or need,” Azura said. There was still so much to do after all.
“You need to get out and have fun more often ZuZu. Speaking of which,” Cerule clicked her heels again the sky serpent’s sides, turning its snout downwards.
“Oh no,” said Sun Jian as she realised her intent.
“Here comes the fun part. Race you there!” Cerule said, before sending her mount into a nosedive back down towards the Sky Bastion.
Ashalla descended after the serpent, but since her current form was so buoyant, there was no way she could fall faster than it. Her individual forms all had their limitations, and here one of those limitations was embarrassingly apparent.
As Cerule grew more distant, humiliation was replaced by determination. “I am the Goddess of Water. I have mastery over my own form,” Ashalla declared.
The vast cloud which was Ashalla’s form rapidly contracted and condensed into a single massive globule of water. As gravity took hold of the droplet, it elongated and froze into a slick, streamlined icicle. The great iceberg which was Ashalla plummeted down through the Blue, continually accelerating. It was not long before Ashalla was falling even faster than Cerule’s serpent.
“Holy crap that was fast!” Cerule shouted after the rapidly descending shard of ice. “Why are you so bad at that?” she then asked Azura. The fishy goddess just glared at her stone double.
Ashalla broke the sound barrier before falling past the Sky Bastion. Having reached the goal, Ashalla sublimated back into a great cloud, which billowed turbulently as it cancelled her velocity.
Several moments later the sky serpent caught up, diving deeply past the Bastion itself until it managed to pull up and join the goddess. A bright leaf-looking thing tumbled slowly down after them, cursing befuzzledly and wondering where her wind had gone.
”Skillfully done. You beat Cerule fair and square,” Azura commented as Sun Jian asked to be let off Cerule’s the wild ride in the background.
Ashalla puffed up pridefully. “Naturally,” she said.
Cerule grumbled perhaps a bit to bitterly over her loss, but Azura merely smiled. Their rapid return had drawn a lot of attention. Luis had left during their conversations inside the Bastion, but had now returned along with a school of whales. The other Undead had also rushed to one of the entrances to see what had caused a shard of ice to descend upon their home from the heavens.
“I think now might be an excellent time to trade songs, seeing as you appear to have attracted an audience,” Azura said, drifting up and away form Cerule’s mount.
Two orbs of lightning crackled into existence within Ashalla’s form and gazed across at the gathered mortals. “Yes, I think so too.”
The tone of Ashalla’s wind shifted and became more resonant. Her voice sang out melodious and sweet. “Come to me, squalls, come to me, and happy I will be.” Squalls flickered into existence. A choir of Ashalla’s voices chimed in, their melody directing the squalls to spiral and dance around, Ashalla’s own cloudy form leading their dance. There was no pre-set structure to the song. Rather, the music adapted and improvised with the temperament of the squalls.
Azura drifted over to the sky temple she had brought close when Ashalla arrived, swaying gently as she went while she picked up the improvisational rhythm of Ashalla’s song and matched something of her own to it. First she began humming a simple tune, and in response to it and the power fed to the song wind and verse spun together to form a small Armonia, holding a flute. The little one joined in her song and was soon joined by another, and then another. Other Armonia with other instruments were formed, forming a small orchestra. Then Azura formed a small conductor’s baton to direct her musicians and began to sing.
Her songs were more rigid and structured than Ashalla’s, and each called out to one of the beasts of the Blue, who joined in with their parts when conducted. Yet from small rigid structures a greater melody formed, weaving from one tune to the other, the singers reacting to each other and to the squalls till all were in harmony.
Once they had the rhythm Azura tossed aside the baton and became a voice in the crowd, the music having taken on a life of its own. The squalls danced along with the music of Azura’s orchestra, flitting about the Tonnikala and Armonia. Ashalla interjected with her own countermelodies, which lifted the squalls from idle motions to perform stunts of wind and rain.
Folding her kite behind her like the wing it was not, a certain godlet descended upon Ashalla’s drafts, timing her descent among the tumbling bundles of cloud and fog tossed by the squall choir, picked her mark among the giant banks of white, and landed feet-first on top of a cloud.
“I saw two flying fish today A girl and whale, out to play. I saw a lass without a face, And a funny floating place.
"I saw a cloud that spoke to me, It rained and cracked and sang in key. I saw some tunes in magic suits! They played on little floating flutes.
"I saw two flying fish today. Soon I'll be gone, but that's okay: I'll see more things on my way.”
Chopstick let herself fall off the cloud and disappeared into the hazy drizzle, teasing squalls with her kite on the way down until she found the perfect draft. As her solo ended so to did the music, each player slowly dropping away until silence reigned once more.
Then came the sound of clapping, a few lonely pairs of hands that was quickly joined by the other undead once they were encouraged to copy the alien custom. The resulting sound paled in comparison to the performance that had been given, but it was all that could be given. Ashalla burbled at the applause. Meanwhile the squalls dispersed, scattering across the Blue and the ice sheet.
There was a shout from below. “Ashalla!” called Chopstick Eyes, almost disappearing on the wind. “Have you seen Li’Kalla anywhere?”
The ball lightning which Ashalla was using as eyes turned to look at the little goddess. “No,” Ashalla replied with a voice like drizzling rain. “Last I heard, K’nell was seeking her fragments to restore her and had recovered one, although that was long ago.”
“Thank you,” said Chopstick Eyes, and swept into the horizon.
Ashalla watched Chopstick Eyes depart, then turned back to Azura. “That was a beautiful performance.”
“It was wonderful to be a part of. I feel like I learned a great deal on top of it being beautiful to hear,” Azura replied, drifting back down from the floating temple which had hosted her orchestra.
“Likewise,” Ashalla said with a voice like a refreshing breeze. “Although, we both have work to return to.”
“Ah, yes. I suppose we do,” Azura responded with a mix of sadness and determination.
“Damn right you do. It’s my turn to be on break,” Cerule interjected from where she sat among the Undead.
“It has been lovely to meet you again dear Ashalla. Please, don't hesitate to stop by again in the future if you come by our way again,” Azura said.
“Indeed. I look forward to our next performance together.”
This post was started before Tendlepog’s disappearance, and is thus set shortly before those events.
Ashalla inspects the work of the winter-spirits on the North Pole. She finds the giant statue and the coloured winter-spirits made by Choppy, and she enhances her divine-essence-detecting senses to ascertain the artist. She also sees the trail left by Kalmar, Roog and Arae, and follows north.
Ashalla is invited to the Sky Bastion by Azura. There she meets Choppy and Cerule. Azura explains Cerules’ pre-Universe origins. Choppy converses with Ashalla, who complements Choppy’s handiwork. Sun Jian and Luis also appear in this post.
Ashalla is shown the Armonia. Azura and Cerule gives a tour of their lab. They show the prototype projects for creating soul ash ab nihilio, creating artificial souls, and reincarnation. Ashalla gives Azura encouragement, saying that it is within the power of the gods to rewrite reality in this manner.
Azura speaks of the deal struck with Kalmar. Azura and Cerule show the work they have been doing to counter the damage caused by the Soul Fiends. Ashalla is asked about what she’s been up to, which is teaching selka about arts.
The party flies up through the Blue on a sky serpent. Ashalla complements Azura on the Tonnikala, and notes her own influence. From high in the Blue, they can see the whole world laid out flat beneath them, and they marvel at the sight. Ashalla points out where the aforementioned selka were, and Azura/Cerule makes plans to visit.
Cerule challenges Ashalla to a race back down. Ashalla can’t win as a cloud. So she claims mastery over Water and achieves her FINAL FORM (I honestly hadn’t expected such a light-hearted moment to be this moment, but there you go), which she uses to win the race.
In the presence of the mortals of the Sky Bastion, Ashalla and Azura put on a show, where Ashalla shows how to control squalls and Azura shows how to summon Armonia and Tonnikala. Chopstick Eyes caps the performance with a song.
Choppy asks Ashalla what she knows of Li’Kalla’s whereabouts. She shares her outdated information.
Ashalla Start: 8 MP & 8 FP Spent: 1 MP to gain Level 1 Detection. 5 MP to acquire the Water Cluster (with Oceans, Storms and Ice) 1 MP to acquire the ability Phase Change (Discounted from 3 MP by Oceans/Storms/Ice, Enhanced by Water Cluster) End: 1 MP & 8 FP Portfolios: 8/10 Colour 5/10 Music
Phase Change - “I am the Goddess of Water. I have mastery over my own form.” This ability allows Ashalla to rapidly shift between her water forms at will. Ashalla can also shift into hybrids of her water forms (e.g. big storm with flying ice shards and water pseudopods; water form with ice fists).
Jr was in the middle of polishing off the last of the flat stake (intentionally unseasoned so the boy’s immature taste buds could savor the pure taste of the flesh) he'd gotten from the cube cow when he heard screaming coming from the Bowser mobile. Or to be accurate, more and louder screaming than the stuff he’d been pointedly ignoring while having lunch. With an exasperated sigh the prince finally got up from where he had been sitting in the grass among his tools, grabbed his paintbrush, and went to investigate.
”I’M THE KOOPA KING. YOU’RE MAKING AN EXCEPTION.” Bowser informed the unfortunate Guildmarm as he reached for the contract she’d been in the process of handing over before she’d had second thoughts on the matter.
For a moment, it looked like they were going to get away with it. Then victory was swiped from under their noses by an unforeseen hand, wiping the evil grins of the Koopas’ faces once they realized they had been duped. Such is the fate of villains.
A Master of Masters look alike, who was referred to as the Guildmaster by his subordinate, came to the rescue of the Guildmarm. His hypnotically overly animated motions and charismatic words beguiled the king and mage long enough to steal away the F rank contract without them even noticing till it was far too late.
The pair managed only a few halting ”HAY”’s and ”But’s as the man laid down the law. They’d have to do C rank Quests before the F rank hunt if they wanted to stay in the Guild’s good graces and reap the rewards.
Once it was all spelled out to them the two turned away briefly to converse, Kamek asking the Guild workers to ”Give us just one moment to discuss this”
”We could just blow this joint and go deal with the Saurian right now. Whatever it is.” Bowser suggested, his quiet voice leaving much to be desired.
”It’s probably a very, very big lizard. Kamek suggested before saying ”and let’s not be so hasty to burn this bridge. We don’t even know if that’s our target.”
”You were the one who said they’d know!” Bowser whispered back loudly.
”Well, yes” Kamek admitted ”but for it to just be wandering around in the fields does seem a touch too easy? Best we make use of this Guild while we get used to the area and reap the rewards while we’re at it.”
Bowser grumbled, somewhat unconvinced.
”We do it their way and they’ll make a statue of you after we deal with the Saurian.” Kamek added.
Bowser grunted and then nodded. He did, after all, like statues of himself and it had been much too long since he had seen one. His doppelganger hadn’t even had any made in the captured castle, which was just another one of the many proofs that he was the real Bowser.
”ALRIGHT WE’LL DO IT!” the king announced as he turned back to the Guild-people, a clawed fist thumping on the counter and ever so slightly ruining the Guildmaster’s perfect card placement in the process.
”Which one’s sire?” Kamek asked before anyone else could.
The response was an ”UHH” followed by the king actually peering down at the cards while trying to quickly find out what he’d just agreed too.
Kamek shook his head slightly and then said ”You take a look over those sire, and get the troops in on the mission, while I go ask a friend of yours some questions.”
”Yeah yeah.” Bowser responded, waving his advisor off while he slowly made calculations of effort vs reward in his head and regretted agreeing to tasks that included straight up manual labor.
”I’ll be right back.” the old wizard said, before taking his broom, which he had been using as a walking stick, in both hands and then tapping the butt of it it against the floor once, causing him to vanishing in a small puff of smoke.
In the Dead Zone, on the back of the trolley, the teleporter suddenly deposited a small peasant child. The mischievous look upon his face was quickly wiped away at the sight of the crumbling ruins and hordes of zombies, to be replaced by an expression of utter, horrified, shock. Stunned in place by the sight, they vanished almost as soon as they had appeared once the teleporter spooled back up.
The boy rematerialised in his hometown and relief flooded his features for a few moments before he was roughly shoved off of the teleporter by a scaly hand.
The elderly wizard repeated in the hall of Peaches castle and set about finding the Master of Masters. The Masters of Guild and Masters' shared fashion sense, Kamek noted, ever so conveniently hid their eyes that should be glowing red if they were under the influence. While Bowser’s descriptions of all Galeem affected people as violent drunks had since been shown to be inaccurate, or at least hyperbole, the suspicion that the ever helpful stranger had reason to hide his own eyes remained even hen he was no-longer an exception. It was unlikely he would have keyed himself after all, and if he had how would he have known to do so? Still, suspicious or not he could potentially give them some information about his doppelganger, and that alone made him worth seeking out. Kamek also admitted to himself that perhaps he was being to quick to judge their own hooded figure, seeing as they had never formally met.
After interrogating a few toads he discovered that the Master of Masters had taken residence in highest tower of the castle. Then, after taking one look at the flight of stairs leading up there and receiving complaints from both his knees and grumbling stomach the mage thought maybe the meeting with the Master of Masters could wait just a few more moments.
”Lunch first.” he decided.
Jr eventually managed to chase of the local children who had been playing around the team’s vehicles, helped in no small part by the fact that they had been distracted by the arrival of a local legend and considerably less by the fact that he was the same age as most of them. The Rabbids, having been terrible guards that had joined in with the kid’s antics almost immediately, went with them for the time being as a result of peer pressure and a desire to avoid Jr’s anger.
Left without living targets for his tantrum he turned it on the teleporter ”why doesn’t this stupid thing have an off switch!” he complained before stepping onto it to register a complaint with the manufacturer.
When Kamek finally arrived at the Master’s new study he was just finishing polishing off the final banana of a bunch he had stolen from a large pile that had been amassed since the last time the team was in the area. Having been taunted by the banana necked flying dinos for the whole time they’d been in the land of adventures the fruit theft was well worth risking DK’s wrath in Kamek’s opinion.
The old wizard then proceeded to knock on the door of the study a few times with the butt of his broom before letting himself inside.
”Good afternoon, Master of Masters. I am Kamek, head mage of the Terribleness King Bowser.” The Koopa introduced himself while taking in the cloaked figure's new abode.
”I apologies for interrupting your work, but I was wondering if you know anything about someone referred to as the Guildmaster? Has the exact same outfit as you and talks like: ‘howsabout youse folks learn how things work in this neck o’ the woods’ Kamek asked, giving the limited details of the man including a somewhat impressive impersonation of the strange individual’s accent. ”They wouldn't happen to be one of the masters you are a master of?”
The prince materialised on the back of the trolley where the boy had been only a few moments ago, stepping off the porter to avoid the same rapid return journey he had.
”Hay Balzermate! why doesn’t this thing have an off switch! Or a safe mode or something that makes it less of glowy twerp bait” he immediately began complaining while taking in the surroundings. In the moments since the child had been and gone the battle with the hoard had ended in victory for the Dead Zone team, ”and while I’ve been dealing with stupid people in some lame hick town you’ve been fighting in a freaking zombie apocalypses!” after making the tragic end of a civilization sound like a cool thing to be involved in he jabbed a finger at the myriads of fading sprites that had been gathered or remained strewn across the ground ”and raking in the loot too!”
The boy then sat down on the side of the trolley and used his paintbrush to scoop up two sprites (a zombie and a demon) as they rode along. ”pretty weak looking tho,” he noted, cooling off slightly, as he crushed the entirely unearned sprites while looking to see where they were going.
”Oh wow,” Jr said as he caught sight of the infested Tank ”Now that’s more like it.”
”Drive me closer, I want to hit it with my paintbrush!” he commanded as he brandished said weapon towards their final foe.
After a bit of faffing about contingencies and plans were made in regards to the split and everyone was sorted into groups and heading off. Bowser was a little sad to see Blazermate go off with the other group, though he’d never admit it, even to himself. You don’t get patched back together by someone as often as Bower had by the robo medic without a small bit of sentimental attachment forming. However with the teleporter slowly spinning around on the back of the Bowser Mobile it was not like the other squad was really that far away travel time wise.
A few experiments with an unwilling Rabbid test subject before they set off proved that fact rather nicely.
Bowser’s own party included his family of course, but also, among others, the hamster and his magical girl robot, the robotized dancer on her goat, the lady link and finally the mercenary courier. That final member was proving to be the most unreliable of the bunch as he had decided to now raise the issue of payment for future services. After the king’s growled argument that he’d paid for the cowboy's tab was shot down by a “I didn't ask you to do that so it doesn't count” their argument was interrupted by the currior’s radio suddenly airing an unexpected news segment. Bowser was pleased to hear about himself on it, however briefly, and was also pleased to hear that Kamek had a suggestion. The old wizard floated along beside him on his broom and whispered into the King’s ear while ‘Mr. New Vegas’ chattered on.
”THE GUARDIAN’S SPRITE. THERE’S NO WAY YOU'RE GETTING IT ON YOUR OWN AND NOBODY ELSE IS GOING TO HELP YOU GET IT FIRST.” the king offered, repeating Kamek’s exact wording.
Eventually, after half a day traveling through the barren wastes between zones, they reached fertile grounds once more. While the land of Adventure was not quite as fantastical an area as the one around Peach's castle it did still host a number of colorful creatures, from cubic cows to horse sized running birds and strange flying giraffe trees. The Koopa Troop took this in on the move, continuing onward towards the town that would be their starting point for the subsequent expedition into the land of Adventures.
The journey was mostly uneventful until they passed particularly close by one herd of cows. Jr’s clown car, which had up until then been rolling along the ground in kart mode, suddenly took off. It turned quickly in the air as its mouth open up and out of this new hole a stubby cannon emerged. With a mischievous ”ha ha” jr punched a newly added button on the car’s control panel, causing a half inflated balloon to be spat from the cannon’s mouth, rocking the car back in recoil. The balloon then rapidly inflated as if flew out, becoming a flaming clown face like the one that had been fired by the sweet tooth back during the tiled road fight. The smaller homing fireball hurtled through the air until it struck an unfortunate clown, killing the hapless beast instantly in a small fiery explosion.
”I’m hungry” the boy explained before anyone could ask as he landed the kart and then rolled it over to his kill in-order to fetch his prize.
”And what else are the souls going to turn into other than beef?” he asked as he crushed the cubic cow’s sprite.
Bowser merely grinned at this display and kept moving, but the old Wizard Kamek was less amused.
”Young master, I am not entirely sure it is wise to go around killing and eating the spirits of strange cube shaped livestock.” chided Kamek from atop his broomstick.
”You’ve been eyeing those banana chinned dino’s since we spotted them.” jr talked back as he remounted his clown car.
”and you don't see me chasing after them now do you.” the old wizard retorted. When jr simply inclined his head a little to insinuate that maybe he should Kamek added ”and the effort required to do so would outweigh the energy provided by even the most delectable tropical fruit. Really young master, you simply must learn patience. We are, afterall, almost at our destination.”
And indeed they were. It only took a couple more minutes for them to arrive at the gates of the small town. The locals where guarded at first sending a quiet gang of jr heroes out to face them down, but once it became clear that Bowser had no interest in burning the town down, yet, they were allowed inside. They were, however, forced to leave their vehicles outside. Jr elected to stay behind, having more interest in working on his car than wandering around some rustic town, and so he and the remaining Rabbids became their ones keeping an eye on the convoy’s remaining vehicles.
After leaving the prince to his tools the king and his aged advisor walked through the streets of the town, watchful eyes following their every move, till they reached the guild hall. As soon as they had heard of its existence Kamek had advised they had there to find out more about the area. ”If anyone knows where the strongest being in this land is it will be them, be it a beast to be hunted or a hero in their employ.”.
The pair made their way inside, Bowser having shrunk down to fit inside, and headed for the smartly dressed woman sat behind the counter who looked to be in charge or at least in the know. They ignored the additional stares they received, having drawn a ton of attention already for their beastly appearance. Had Bowser come in his normal unaltered state blades might well have been dawn, but as it was the suited turtle and his robbed companion were as much a curiosity to the adventurers as they were a potential concern.
”YOU. WHERE’S THE BIGGEST, BADDEST, MOST DANGEROUS MONSTER IN THIS PLACE?” The king demanded to know, getting right to the point.
”If I may add too/clarify to your request sire,” Kamek quickly interjected in an attempt to not immediately sour relations with their first source of information ”We are here on a… quest of sorts, to slay the mightiest monsters in every realm of this new reality. Having just arrived to this one, we’d like to know more about it and where, perhaps, to start our search.”
Kamek: Decoy clones: create three magical doubles of himself, that hover around him, obfuscating which Kamek is the real one. They are not very resilient, but they can copy Kamek's attacks and direct them at the same target. This allows multiple wand shots, for example, but not the stacking of buffs like size changing.
After the courier dined and dashed and Donny talked his way out of paying Bowser was left as the only person left in the overpriced schmuck trap that was the bar who hadn't dealt with payment.
Browser had frozen halfway through eating his second burger when he heard the price the monk had been charged for his own meal. Grease had slow dribbled down from the half bitten through burger as the king’s brain considered its options. After several long moments of contemplation he nodded to himself and quickly finished the rest of his meal.
”YOUR PRICES ARE OUTRAGEOUS” he informed Fire Man once he was done, activating the mecha mit as he said so.
A glowing energy claw slid out and slashed through the thread holding the other three gold buttons on Bowser’s coat. His other hand caught the small balls as they were freed of his size changing magic and began to expand back to their original diameter. When he subsequently underhand tossed them to bartender they had grown as large a fists.
”FOR OUR TAB” he told the bartender as he turned to go.
Before the bot could recover from having to catch/juggle three heavy balls of pure gold Bowser had already stomped his way out of the door, preventing the King from finding out if he had just grossly over or underpaid for him and his minion’s meals/drinks.
Outside a lot of things were/had been going on and Bowser took it all in as dark magic coalesced around him, gradually being absorbed into his body as the king grew back to the size that the party was used to seeing him at.
Jr and kamek had caught up, he noted. The former was just finishing the supervising the offloading of a whole heap of car parts that looked to have been ripped from the raider cars that had attacked them earlier. An assortment of summoned Koopas and Goombas brought these down from the captured Brother Grimm and where handing them over to the young engineer woman who worked here. In exchange Bowser’s son seemed to have acquired a yellow briefcase from her. The team’s intimidation factor had largely been mitigated by Jr’s in-experience with haggling, and so the pair had come to a rather even bargain in the end as a result.
There was also the tell tale marks of a fight, a lack of bird robot and addition of new metallic parts to their dancer that indicated that part of the team had picked a fight with one of the Hammerhead’s customers while he was gone, though said fight did not seem to have escalated beyond that single, now dead, person. Finally a number of their party, including among others the yellow rat, the monk and the new spiky haired ferret owner, had gathered to discuss/plan something with the boy band and demon upsetting duo.
Finally it appeared that peach, along with some of the others, were preparing to leave already.
”Papa!” Jr called over to the king when he spotted him, moving away from his completed dealing with the Hammerhead worker to go meet up with his father.
”Ah, there you are sire.” Kamek said as he came to join them both from where he had been standing and keeping an eye on the king’s army of misfits.
”That the place for lunch?” Jr asked as he pointed to the bar, having worked up quite the appetite.
”No. Place is a total rip off.” Bowser told him, ignoring the subsequent sound of disappointment to ask ”So what's going on with that lot?”
”I believe they intend to head off the Dead zone if I’ve been overhearing their discussion with that gaggle of coiffed individuals correctly.” Kamek explained as he took out the map and indicated to the large city region located to the north of where they probably were. ”the one with the bleached hair said something about a big demon that sounds like it might be one of Galeem’s Guardian.”
”What are they doing that for? We’re going south to the land of adventure! Right?” Bowser said, both a bit confused and slightly angry at this news.
”We are, your Leaderness, but it seems that the old plan of splitting up has raised its head once more. Its a touch out of the blue for them to do so I’ll admit, but we did make preparations for this occasion. The modified teleporters, if you remember them? It’s also a smaller separation than the initial separate arcs plan. They'll go through the dead zone and ruined metropolis, I think, while we can go through the land of adventure and the sand swept wastes. Then we’ll all meet up at the forbidden kingdom. Probably. Or we could perhaps double back through the Dark forest once we are done down south? hmmm.” Kamek said at length while thoughtfully examining the map.
”Gah fine sure whatever. Let’s just get a move on already. Bowser conceded, unwilling to listen to Kamek prattle on any longer about the possibilities, and wanting to get away from the ludicrously expensive bar as soon as possible.
Jr meanwhile had already wandered off after it turned out getting food around here was off the table to go tinkering with his clown car. The yellow box, now opened up beside him as he worked, was revealed to contain a bevy of rather sophisticated mechanical tools which the boy used to fiddling around with the insides of his tiny vehicles. As he worked bits of the head of the sweet tooth, which the boy’s minions brought down from the Brother Grimm before dispersing, were being gradually extracted and inserted into the smaller clown head.
”ALRIGHT EVERYONE WHO@S STILL HEADING SOUTH, GET GOING BEFORE THE PRINCESS GETS AWAY!.” Bowser commanded the team before telling Kamek to ”Go tell that lot that plan of mine. The one with the teleporters and map route and stuff.
”Sigh. Yes sire.” Kamek responded as the king stomped over to his car to prepare to set off.
Kamke meanwhile did as he was instructed and walked over to the dead zone team. ”Two things before you leave with the pile of pretty boys. One, make sure to take a teleporter with you so we can keep in touch, reinforce one another and so on. Second, I suggest that if communications break down we make this” Kamek showed them the map and indicated to the entrance to the forbidden kingdom, ”our emergency rendezvous point. If you intend to go through the nameless city afterwards that is? The rest of us will most likely be heading to the sand swept wastes after the land of adventure, terrain permitting of course.”
Kamek kept the map open in-case they had other suggestions/plans for routes that he was unaware of.
“Cult of the Damned? What a trite name. Not to worry, unlawful death magic cults are well within my jurisdiction so I’ll see what I can do. I’ll treat the matter with discretion of course.” she responded quietly to the man handing out gold. She did wonder why they weren't doing anything about it, but perhaps it was more rumor or personal suspicion than known element. Or there were politics involved. Or they were and where simply keeping quiet about the matter to avoid distracting the troops from the more pressing matter at hand. Regardless. She’d keep an eye out for these cultists and their foul deeds.
She nodded at the armored man and Cole Phelps’s suggestion of heading to armorer. She already had the finest (mundane) armor Sceleria could produce of course, but could definitely do with a cloak of some kind. Or a cold protection magic item if they had those, rare as that might be. “A wise course of action Mr Phelps. My legs are slowly going numb as we speak.”
While they were on the way there Blue expressed concerns about acquiring weapons and his own lack of weapon experience.
“I don’t know anything about this ‘pokemon’ familiar you have, but it would be wise to have a weapon on you regardless of how strong it is. And armor. Any intelligent foe will go for you rather than your minion if they have the chance.“
She looked him up and down. Fairly young. Not much in the way of muscle but not unfit either. Probably a good runner. He could be made into a decent soldier if they had the time, which sadly they did not
“A spear might be wise, they are easy to use. You just stick them with the pointy end. Not great against skeletons though. Or an ax. Can’t go wrong with an ax. We definitely don't have the time to teach you how to use a sword properly. A shield could be wise if your priority is primarily to survive until someone helps you out. Or some kind of easy to learn ranged weapon like a crossbow if you want to stay quick and dissuade people coming after you.“ she said, mostly thinking out loud.
“Best bet is you try some things once we get there. See if you find something that suits you.“ she suggested at last, clapping Blue on the back reassuringly as they arrived at the Armorer.
To stay in Kendles, it is almost a necessity to develop an attitude of caring only about yourself and yours. To live in Kendles, any amount of selfishness or greed previously learned would quickly turn into uncaring apathy. Candle had known this of course, expected it and prepared for it as she went out onto the streets to preach the good word of Parrel. It still hurt nonetheless when, at best, the Kendies didn’t even deign to give her any attention. At worst, they cursed or chased her off to a different corner of the ramshackle city.
And so it was with heavy feet and a heavy heart that Candle trudged back to her lonely chapel, its lone guardian leaning on the ruined entrance way with his usual mocking grin.
”So what new truths has Parrel shown you today? Is it about the grace and graciousness of Kends to a holy woman what hath served them for near a year now?”
And as was customary between the priestess and the mercenary, she ignored him and went straight to her corner to disrobe into garments more fitting for home. Light seemed to flicker in her peripherals, and turning her head slightly to the door, she could see a small black line in the distance, just cresting past the slums on the close horizon. At least five figures, all armed were coming this way.
Dressed in only a simple robe, Candle straightened herself, mentally sighing and wishing they had come but a few moments earlier when she still had her breastplate on. Grabbing the belt that carried her sword required no extra effort on her part, at least, as she turned to face the newcomers. Liam made himself fade into the background, present and in view, but unimportant, a lazy hand resting on his pommel.
”Parrel welcomes you,” she greeted, doing her best to adopt a calm and approachable pose to the approaching group. ”How may I help you?”
The five thugs stopped only after entering the chapel properly. A few of them had scrap metal tied around their chests and thighs, while others were in a mess of survivors rags and scavenger furs. Spiked clubs, a jank blade, and chipped axes were in their fists and unamused faces were on their visage. A few of them had scarring on their faces and wrists, showcasing their allegiance to the filth eaters.
“Are you in business?” A particularly barrel chested man suddenly asked past a curly beard.
”So long as there are people to help,” came an automatic reply, Candle’s eyes unconsciously taking in their armaments and builds, her mind calculating the best and most efficient moves to dispatch them with Liam while simultaneously keeping in mind their current scars and wounds and how best to treat them if the need would arise.
“Then you pay taxes,” The bearded man said simply, “Do you understand.” The drone of his voice betrayed how many times he had to have given this speech.
Like the apathy of the Kends, this too Candle expected. She just didn’t expect it to have taken so long. ”What shall be the price.”
“People, materials, food,” The man listed, “Enough to satisfy twenty fist stones in space or weight every moon cycle for materials and food, servitude and slavery is negotiable.” He spit on the floor, “I prefer food.”
Candle glanced distastefully at the man’s glob on her recently cleaned floor before turning her eyes above and past the ruined roof to the moon that lay beyond. ”I have but recently arrived. Pray may I have time to gather the items needed?”
There was a pause as the bearded man chewed his lip, his eyes scanning the obvious ruin he was standing in, “In a half cycle I’ll be here for ten stone, at the finish, another twenty. The ten is for this month, twenty for the next -- Derick is kind, but know your limits.” He looked at the others and jerked his head as if signaling them to leave, “Don’t be late.”
Candle watched the group depart. Once they had moved far outside earshot distance, Liam made himself known with a short, barking laugh. ”With those taxes, you’d think the Filth Eaters expected everyone to be like the mayor of Illistair himself.”
”And that is why I will not pay,” Candle stated as she produced a dirty rag and proceeded to wipe away the man’s spit.
”I wouldn’t say things so lightly, or loudly.”
Candle shrugged. ”Part of my duties as an Instrument of Parrel is to purify the world of Filth. It would be remiss of my duties if I bowed to a group that worships the Filth itself.”
”Men and women stronger than you have tried,” Liam snorted, then fell quiet. Despite their short time together, he knew Candle wasn’t one that was wont to joke. ”As long as I’m not dragged into your schemes. Don’t matter to me whether you prosper or end up carved and gutted in a ditch.”
”It is a good thing for me then that those Eaters have already seen you loitering around my church.”
“For fuck’s sake, get a Teid be damned door, woman!” A familiar voice barked as Rat rushed into the ruins from outside and swiftly juked behind a wall, his back covering him from any would be viewers outside. His bright eyes shifted nervously around the chapel for a moment, allowing a short pause to give Liam a look of disdain. The small man was breathing heavily, his chest pumping up and down and his hand was tight around his metal shank, a dirt covered leather package under his right arm.
”Hello Rat. Are you here to be dragged into my ‘schemes’ as well?”
“What?” Rat spat, head dipping to look past the wall and sneaking a peek outside, “What in Ligdon’s pants are you talking about?” He jerked around, as if trying to get a different angle, “Haven’t you heard?”
Liam let out a forceful laugh, slapping Rat’s shoulder like one would a friend, albeit with the intention of breaking every bone therein, the shock caused the paranoid man to jump. Instinctively he swiped his blade almost without looking, the tiny shank slipping under Liam’s belt with a sudden snap. Bereft of its support, the mercenary’s pants began to droop dangerously low, yet Liam looked unperturbed. Rather, he looked pleased, as if it was a practiced routine the two regularly performed. ”Nothing you need to mind yourself you rodent. But enlighten us! What have your sewer friends whispered into your hairy ears?”
Rat blinked and looked down at his blade, “Huh, I missed,” he shook his head, “And the world wails in fuckin’ anguish.” Looking back outside he picked up where he left off, “Ratcher is in town, and he has brought the Red Knife with him... someone tipped him off -- he was looking for Lauriel... and now he is looking for--” Rat stood up straight, “Fuckin’ hell, what am I doing here?”
”Friendship? Food? The urgent need to tantalizingly half-spill all your secrets? Regardless, what does that have to do with us?”
”It means I am going to have to inform them that Lauriel is dead. And likely stock up on more medicinal supplies.” Candle had heard stories about the Red Knife of Kendles, this Ratcher, less so. The former would be a headache for the young apothecary if even half the tales were true.
“Ooh I hope to all that is nasty that Ratcher guts you first,” Rat pointed his blade at Liam, “At least then I can die closer to happiness, hells, maybe he’d let me live if I did it for him.”
The mercenary grinned, his hand dropping down to his crotch, his mouth already flying to let off some unbecoming comment before remembering that he was in the presence of a priestess (one who’s blade skills he had the chance to witness firsthand) and let it drop. Instead he went back to his previous point, saying, ”So then again, why should we care? It’s not like we have to tell every Dick, Van, and Dyke about one dead merchant carrying some spooky and mysterious cargo like the little mouse here keeps teasing about.”
“I always fuckin’ forget I’m talking to a pup in a wolves den,” Rat squinted, “You got his sister killed.”
Metal clanked and Rat spun around, two figures were approaching. One was a tall man bearing an ancient scabbard and dressed rather nicely with contrasting scraggly black hair and a dark tan. He wore a pack around one shoulder. The other was a young woman, not even in her twenties, an assortment of tools and knives covering her.
The darker man squinted, trying to see into the ruins, “Hello... I’m looking for a mercenary.”
“Right in here!” Rat called out before taking a few steps back and slipping into the shadows, the final glint of his eyes smiling at Liam.
Jovial and blithe eyes turned into a cold hard stare, if only for a brief moment as Liam watched Rat scurry away before turning towards the new voice. ”Bit of an odd place and an odd time to be looking for one, but aye, you’ve found one here,” the jestering tone returning.
Candle noticed curiously how Liam had taken on a dangerous stance, an aura she had only seen when she first found him among the Filth. She straightened herself once more, scabbard in hand, and turned to face the newcomers as well.
“Finally,” The man said, an ease of excitement seeping into a tired voice, sharing a brief glance at his partner. He took a step into the chapel and pointed a finger, “You worked for Lauriel, right?”
”And who might be asking?”
“Ratcher,” Jarren answered, letting his blade pop out of the scabbard just enough for the dusky light to bounce off the unusually white steel in a show of color, “All I want to know is where she is.”
Lips turned to spin a lie, but Candle spoke before it could be completed. ”She has returned to the Cycle. It was my fault, I could not save her in time.”
“Cyc- cycle? What are you--” Jarren’s face turned a hue of red as her words sunk in, “You gotta be kiddin’ me!” His voice raised in frustration as he turned to looked helplessly at Kiera, eyes wide as if asking “What now!?”
Keira grimaced at hearing the news, muttering “What are the fucking odds” into her hand while two fingers tapped her forehead in thought.
“We find the person who was going to sell her the map?” she suggested before asking the mercenary “she didn’t happen to have a really old map on her already by any chance?” the odds of him not having looted her corpse where low, they’d done the same to the dead slaver after all. Jarren seemed to flinch at the question, his frustration still clear as day.
Steadfast and resolute, Candle took a moment to appear as if she was thinking about the question before responding. ”Not that I am aware of. What I took from her wagon were construction tools and other small things I could carry in order to restore this church.”
"She died, when," Jarren asked with increasing urgency, "On the way here or back?"
”On the journey here from Illistair.”
"She didn't have it," Jarren said, his voice exasperated and turned to Kiera, "Let's just drop this off with her contact and get the hell out of-"
A sharp point pricked his back and he froze. Rat had somehow left the chapel and gone around silently, his shank dangerously pressing against Jarren's back.
"You have Laurien's side of the deal?" Rat asked calmly.
"I do..." Jarren trailed, "Are you..." Jarren thought back to the journal, "...him?"
Rat glanced over at the onlooking Candle and Liam before taking his blade away from Jarren and leaming close, his whisper just loud enough to hear.
"Keeper of Castle Hope."
"Then we have your package," Jarren gulped, eager to be free of this burden.
“Great,” Rat nearly blinked in surprise, “Where is it.”
Jarren looked at Kieran, a light in his dark eyes betraying his joy at finally being done with it all. He slinked his pack off his shoulder, causing Rat to raise his knife suspiciously.
Candle frowned, finally noticing that Rat had a knife to her guests. She threw a look at Liam who only shrugged before she took a step forward, her sheathed blade held ready in front of her. ”Rat, do not point a blade at those seeking honest answers in this house.”
Rat didn’t seem to pay her much mind, merely whispering “Fair... fair...” His eyes stuck on Jarren’s pack as the man rummaged through it.
“Hang on hang on.” Keira interjected, having recovered, finally, from the rodent named man’s sudden appearance “show us the map first. For all we know you stole the dead ladies diary and learned about this whole deal through it.”
“I-” Both Rat and Jarren seemed caught off guard. Rat narrowed his eyes, “Seems a little coincidental, doesn’t it?”
“Trust me, all of this is,” Jarren defended Kiera’s point, but with a tone begging for semantics rather than moral integrity.
“Teid’s tits, kid,” Rat made a face, “Fine.” His eyes shifted to Liam briefly, “But here?”
“They not friends of yours then?” Keira asked “Odd, seeing as they know you and Lauriel and all.”
“I guess your friend was right about coincidence, but no,” He looked over at the other two, “We aren’t friends.”
”Aw don’t mind him,” Liam interjected. ”Me and the little rodent go way back! A few days back. Back enough to know that I wouldn’t trust him to not shank you in the deep dark of the nights if any of his precious little secrets were uncovered, willingly or no.” The mercenary winked at Ratcher.
”Liam.”
”I was only trying to inform the nice people that whatever they know, they can share with all of us, priestess. For their own safety and what not. Not to mention you’d like to at least show Laury’s dear brother where she rests now right, seeing as how only you ‘n me know where their buried and all? Though I’ve got to say my memory can be a bit shoddy these days. Too much sewer stench,” Liam ended, smirking at Rat.
“Dear Ligdon he still thinks I’m Ratcher,” Jarren said with astonishment and Rat simply broke into a hacking laugh. He cocked his head at Liam.
“Now do you understand my concern?”
“I just want to be done with this,” Jarren said and held his hands up, he looked at Kiera, already prepared to give the bag to Rat, “What about you?”
“You could probably get something out of this other than paying a debt to a dead man. As for me, you know why I’m here.” she suggested to Jarren, before asking the map owner “So, rat, what’s your plan for the map now that your out of heroes to go to the legwork?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rat asked almost sweetly, his hand extended. Jarren seemed to hesitate, something battling behind his eyes.
“At least ask for something in return for traipsing down here with it. Courier fee or something. Also Ratcher was going to buy it not the other way round Rat. Pretty sure you ain't got no plan for what to do with this, even if you do got the map.” Keira argued.
Rat went to speak but was suddenly cut off by Jarren, “Castle Hope.”
Rat nodded with wide sarcastic eyes, “You are a slow lot, aren’t you?”
Jarrens fingers tightened around the bag as he held it shakily, “I don’t want it.”
“But you want to know,” Rat grinned, pushing his hand forward, “No one was buying or selling anything here. The Castle was going to be split between us three.”
“Then give your burden to me Jarren and I’ll handle this. Sides, you really thinking you can do this on your lonesome Rat? Place is probably deep down south and I don’t know about you, but I’ve been down there before and it ain't no walk through central Illistair I’ll tell you that.” Keria said reaching her own hand out towards the conflicted man while the other rested on her hip.
Jarren seemed to snap to attention, a deep frown forming on his face. He all but tossed the bag into Kiera’s hands, “Whatever, I’m done with this.”
“Of course,” Rat whistled sarcastically. Jarren made a face and started to walk out of the chapel before flinching. He turned and pointed at Kiera.
“For your old man’s sake, you should be done with this too.”
Rat shifted his hands towards Kiera, “You’re friend isn’t exactly wrong, you know.”
“You should leave it be too!” Jarren pointed at Rat.
“Which is it gonna be, boy?” Rat twisted his lips into a frown.
“Neither, no one, none of us, this is insanity,” Jarren’s voice cracked. The stressed man shook his head and started to wander off, possibly trying to come to terms with the stressful week he has been having, leaving Kiera alone in the bargain with Rat.
“Are you waiting for a fuckin’ tip?” Rat’s frowned deepened.
“The map. Obviously. Said it already.” Keira responded after receiving the precious bundle. “Wouldn’t want to squander something like this on someone who can't even use it.”
“I’m not giving you the map,” Rat looked shocked.
“Show is fine.” Keira responded. “I have one half of the puzzle, you the other. We work together and we both get the goods. Unless you want me to go find some other old map? Bet their more common than what I've got, at least a little.”
“You’re an idiot,” Rat accused, “But I’m willing to abide by those terms.” Rat seemed to grumble as he loosed his leather bundle from around his shoulder. With a gentle tug of the string, he unrolled the leather. Instantly the old smell of vellum wafted in the open aired chapel, a yellowed map staring right at Kiera... the symbols on the map looking instantly familiar to Candle -- they were on her crown.
“Now show me yours,” Rat narrowed his eyes.
Keira snorted a laugh, then slowly, carefully, unwrapped the old parchment and trying to make sense of what she was looking at compared to what she remembered about the ledger. “Here” she said, flipping it over for a few moments and then turning it back in the hope that he wouldn't memorise the small relevant bit. Rat’s eyes seemed to swim at what glimpses he could get while she moved it around, a stupid grin forming on his face.
Then finally, Candle spoke, her voice clear and resolute, brokering no room for negotiation nor compromise. ”Rat,” she said. ”I will be going with you.”
Liam, who had just been gaping managed to stop the urge of leaving his mouth hanging open about the monumental treasure being so casually spoken before him. ”By Teid’s tits hold on one minute, if you’re all talking about the Castle of Hope, the Castle, mind you, I’m going too.”
Rat stared at the two blankly for a moment. His bright eyes flickered between the two and Kiera, a thought slowly forming in his head. Finally he went to speak --
“I’m coming too!” Jarren rushed back in, his face flustered, as if he had just talked himself into jumping off a cliff. He quickly turned to Kiera, and then closed his mouth.
Rat exhaled and closed his eyes, “Well...” He paused again, “Okay.”
“Then let’s put lay this thing out and work out where on Pertovia we’re going!“ Keria said a touch too excitedly before turning to Candle and asking “there is a table in here right?”
The priestess stared at her, feeling the brief rush of night wind blowing through the nonexistent roof and shattered windows, chilling the young woman in her simple gown. ”Want not for the fallible and fleeting, but need and strive for that which will give you eternal grace.”
The book burned a hole in Jarren’s mind. Though it was safely tucked into the saddlebags, it felt like it was right in front of him. His inherited steed, to which he had named Hero after its late owner, lazily walked through a leave littered path. Jarren’s hands tightened around the reigns, even with the sword of Ratcher on his hip, the wilds always made him feel -- sick.
All around him were trees that could have been hundreds of years old, maybe even older. Their broad leaves were on the cusp of turning yellow, just another gentle reminder that autumn was a month away. Between the mighty trunks, not much else grew -- not this far into the thickets. It was a small miracle, or perhaps some long forgotten magic that there was even a dirt road in this part of the forest. Truth be told, it bent and dipped at such angles, that the secret may just be that it was paved between the natural giants that dwelled here. Taking in the sharp scent of the forest, Jarren couldn’t help but notice the sour smell of vinegar on the wind. His nose curled and there was a hearty guzzling off to his side.
The owner of the stench was a young man that Jarren and Kiera had bumped into on their way out of Illistair. He was cheery enough, seemed honest, and best of all -- had a cart and a donkey. The duo decided to travel with him, as there was a certain safety in numbers, especially if the odd of the three’s mount was the slowest. Jarren shook the crude invasive thought out of his mind and turned to the new man -- Orin.
Orin walked next to his donkey with Kiera and her gear, plus a bandolier of scissors, and a jank blade in his dinky little cart behind him. In one hand, Orin held his beast’s reins, and in the other he held a large glass bottle with leaves and other natural debris floating about the bottom. His aquiline nose was twisted as if disgusted as he gulped down another vinegary sip of the drink, soft brown eyes (nearly the same shade as his groomed hair) tearing up from the taste.
Jarren made a face at the man, “Why do you bother drinking that rancid mess if you don’t even like it.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Orin coughed, his well squared shoulders lurched forward and gave his large billowy shirt a sort of ghostly look as it draped over his lean frame. He dabbed his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “I like drinking it, I just don’t like how it tastes,” He forced the explanation through another sour cough.
“I’m not sure if that makes any sense,” Jarren knitted his brows.
“You never drank moonshine before Jarren?” Keira asked “coz I’m assuming its kinda like that.”
“I’ve dranken-- drunken,” Jarren sputtered, “But by the four, no alcohol I ever encountered smelt like that.”
“Because it isn’t,” Orin corrected, holding the bottle suddenly towards Keira, “It’s a vinegar and forest-bit swatch. Would you like to try some? It’s good for your teeth, keeps the worms out.”
“How?” Jarren pushed.
“Trust me, I’m a dentist.”
“I thought you said you were a barber?” Jarren nudged his chin at the bandolier of scissors next to Kiera.
“A man can be two things,” Orin frowned and shook the bottle at Kiera again, “It’s good.”
Jarren watched as his traveling companion’s eyes darted from the bottle to him, then Orin and finally back to bottle, clearly regretting her tacet defence of the man’s drinking habit. Then her face scrunched up in contemplation before she seemed to steel herself and took the bottle. “Anything once” she said before drinking from the bottle. The results were unsurprising. Looking as if she was going to be sick Keira forced herself to swallow regardless and began hacking and coughing a few moments later.
“Bleh” she finally said after coughing up most of her lungs, leaving her tongue hanging out of her mouth after as if it would allow her to escape the taste. Orin nodded with a certain satisfaction.
“Yeah, that sounds about right for a first sip,” The man grinned, “But hey, your teeth will thank you for it.”
“Gods no it feels like they are melting.” she retorted, tongue still stuck out while she spoke.
Jarren’s face scrunched with disgust, but Orin gave a light hearted laugh, “That’s probably just the worms dying out from the dosage.”
“The only worm like thing in my mouth is my tongue. If your trying to kill that then good job. Its working.” Keira complained before drawing one of the two flasks from her belt and drawing deeply from it to try and get rid of the taste.
Orin shook his head, “Well now, hear me out.” He held up a finger and pointed it at Keira’s mouth, “Have you ever had a toothache or maybe one of your molars changed colors?” Jarren was already rolling his eyes as Orin continued, almost with a spark of passion, “That’s these tiny worms that the eye cannot see. They get into your teeth from your food, which is why you should always wipe your teeth after a big meal with a cloth, and drink swatches and the like to ensure that those who escaped your cloth are killed. It’s the only way to get a good breath and a healthy mouth, Ligdon’s honor.”
“You’re crazy,” Jarren muttered and Orin gave him a challenging smirk.
“When was the last time you wiped your teeth?”
“Last night,” Jarren answered roughly, “Everyone knows to do that, that’s not some grand mechanism for fighting worms.”
“Okay, okay,” Orin held up a hand, “I won’t push it any further.”
Keira, who had been futility rubbing her own teeth while they spoke asked “If it’s just for the teeth then why on earth did we swallow that?”
Jarren gave Orin a look that certainly backed up Kiera’s sentiment. The self proclaimed dentist frowned, “What else would you do with it?”
“Spit it out? Or just put some on the cloth or something? That can not be good for the throat is all I am saying.” Keira said as she waved an unsure hand at the man.
“Sounds like a waste of perfectly fine vinegar to me,” Orin scoffed and tilted his bottle bottom up. His face was awash with disgust as he forced a swallow and a small smile. Orin’s smile twisted into shock as a small screech echoed through the woods.
A man came trampling into view, nearly falling over himself. Seeing the group of three, the mud covered man fell to his knees and began to whimper loudly, “Quick! They are coming!”
Without missing a beat, Orin suddenly leapt onto his cart and snatched his jank blade, a long stretch of randomly scavenged metals pounded into one arm-long sword. Remaining on his perch, his knee nearly hitting Kiera on the side of the head, he pointed his sword past the man, “Who?”
Jarren held his reins tightly, “I suggest you keep running then.” He called out weakly. Orin shot Jarren a confused look and then looked back at the man, who had coughed up a sobbing burp.
“Slavers, they’ve been following me all day -- I have information, news! It’s important I get this to-”
“Ah!” Jarren plugged one of his ears, “No, this is none of our business!”
“To who?” Keira asked, ignoring Jarren’s refusal to get involved as she moved to get a better look down the road.
“Anyone with the Teid be damned courage to put a damn end to this madness,” The man all but spat in his anxiety. Orin gave him a soft look before following Keira’s eyes down the path -- and sure enough five rough looking, heavily armed figures were fast approaching.
Jarren reluctantly joined them in looking but then slowly turned away, it would be very easy to simply gallop away. He rose his heel, eyes quickly making out an escape path through the trees. Keira shifted again near him and the thoughts of her old man popped into his mind. He closed his eyes and groaned inwardly, his frustration ending in time for him to hear a rough female voice.
“We are just here for old slippy there,” The woman called out past a violent looking wooden rod hammered with bits and ends of sharp metal. One other woman with an axe flanked her right, and three aggressive looking men flanked her left.
The slavers all stared daggers at the cowering, mud covered man. Orin suddenly hopped off the cart landing between them as to break their line of sight, his cheery expression gone as he swung his blade through the air a few times.
“Listen,” Jarren found the courage to speak up, “This is none of our business, I’m sure you can just do your thing, while we do ours.”
“Strike that,” Orin countered with a nod at the slaver’s scalps, “With hair like theirs, I’m afraid as a barber this is my business.”
“Yeah sod off!” Keira yelled at them along with the barber/dentist as she grabbed a knife from her boots in one hand and her sling in the other “Do you even know who I am!”
Jarren rubbed his face, his skin turning a shade of red but before he could say anything the gruff woman called back.
“Dead, if you don’t buzz off. Last call.”
“The red knife of Kendles!” she yelled defiantly, leaping atop Orin ‘s cart and doing her best impression of a dangerously competent frothing mad woman, “Get lost before I get mad and gut the lot of you.” she flipped the knife up and managed, barely, to catch it again by the point.
The name drop caused a pause, a very silent pause. Orin flinched, but kept his eyes on the enemies while Jarren abruptly stared at Keira for a long second. Jarren finally cleared his throat, catching the attention of the slavers.
“Remember that business I was talking about letting us get to?” He tilted his head menacingly and the slavers looked over at each other.
“You can’t be,” One of the men finally barked, “There is no way.”
“I cant can I?” Keira let of a bark of a laugh “you willing to bet your life on that?” she grinned widely at him before adding “before you answer that let me also point out that this here” she jabbed a thumb at Jarren “Is Ratcher. Hero of Illistair. Guy salied out alone in the middle of a Filth siege that was so strong it broke the damned wall. Not only did he cut a bloody swath through the filth but he also killed a Giant”
“Well now that’s just too much,” The woman argued, “The knife AND Ratcher?”
Jarren closed his eyes and drew his blade from its scabbard with a rasp. The white steel of the Aethelian blade caught the sun over the clouds and shimmered as he swung it once. Even Orin turned to look as Jarren held it out for all to see.
“Okay-” The woman took a step back, “Fine, you’re the Knife, and you’re Ratcher -- we have names and lives too, you know, and in order to keep those, we are going to need our friend there.” She pointed at the runaway, “We will just take him, and you’ll never see us again.”
“Uh - uh,” Orin’s eyes narrowed and Jarren hid a groan.
“Well now that’s interesting. What’s so important about this guy that your lives depend on it huh?” she asked, needlessly drawing out the interesting as she did.
“We have a job to do,” The woman opened her hands, voice nearly pleading, “You know how it is.”
“Fuck this,” The other woman growled and swung forward with her axe. The edge beared down on Orin, but the man expertly leapt to the side, his arm curling and wrist spinning as he entered a riposte. The jank blade leapt forward at an odd angle, slipping under the woman’s fighting arm and jamming into her armpit, exploding out from behind her collarbone.
Everyone froze as the woman stared down at the scarlet point of the blade sticking out of her, eyes quickly fading and body slumping. Two of the slavers shared a look as the body crumpled to the ground, and without a word they suddenly pushed past the remaining slavers in a hasty retreat. The gruff female leader stared at the three travelers, her once steel gaze broken with uncertainty as she backed up slowly.
Keira stared disbelievingly at Orin for a few moments before remembering who she was pretending to be. With forced arrogance she yelled “yeah you better run” at the fleeing slavers while quickly spinning up the stone in her sling and pointing her knife at the final remaining one threateningly, inviting her to join them.
The woman swore under her breath before reluctantly running off, now outnumbered and disheartened. Jarren raised his eyebrows and shook his head, “Well, at least it’s over.”
Orin wiped the gore off his blade on a nearby bush as he craned his neck to look back at Kiera and Jarren, “Not quite.” He nodded towards the once cowering man who now stood by Kiera.
“Um,” The man started ,clearly intimidated, “Take the news as you will but... well.” He sucked in a breath, “I caught wind of a smuggling racket in Kendles, and was quickly... well... smuggled myself -- forcefully. During my time, I learned a few things if -- well if you are willing to hear about it, Miss Foy.”
Keira sighed with relief once the slavers where out of sight, before sitting down on the cart and putting her, thankfully, unused weapons away. “Please do,” She encouraged the ex slave, “we’re headed right for that mess of a town so any info would be great. I’d also like to know where on Pertovia you learned to do that Orin.” Keira drank another drought from a flask and tried to avoid looking at the dead body their traveling companion had made.
"The same place where I learned to cut hair," Orin inspected his blade, "Why did you want a cut? I'm sure your ends would thank you."
Keira politely declined the offer, turning her attention back to the ex-slave.
"A ring of smugglers have been snatching people right out of their homes," The man continued, "While in their convoy I heard that we were heading towards Jornorston..." The man shivered, "Parrel protect the others."
Keira sucked in breath through her teeth. She’d heard the rumors of course, that the strange religious town did unspeakable things to keep the eyes of the filth away from their community, but this was the first she’d hear of them importing slaves that could be used as victims for such atrocities. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t remember hearing about them importing anything before. The town wasn’t exactly a place you passed through either, being the eastern most major settlement on the island.
“That's both strange and disturbing news.” she concluded before asking “how’d you escape? And how big is this ring?”
“I got lucky, and I don’t know,” The man all but whimpered, “I was in a group of five -- one of the children keeled over and I took the chance to run.”
“This really is a lot of information,” Jarren finally cut in, “You should probably bring it to Illistair, maybe someone there would be willing to look into it, but as for us, we already have a task.”
“But...” The man pleaded, “You’re Ratcher!”
“I’m not...” Jarren exhaled through his nostrils and looked at Kiera, “Just get out of here before you drag more trouble our way.”
The man looked over helplessly to Orin who gave him a reassuring nod, then to Kiera, eyes wide and waiting.
Keira felt the weight of the man’s desperate gaze upon her and couldn’t help but compare to the weight of the hidden crown. She looked away, over to Jarren, “There’s a child,” she tired, attempting to coax out the compasion the man clearly had but hated to acknowledge.
Jarren wiggled his nose as he thought, clearly uncomfortable. Finally he sighed, “What do you want us to do about that? We have a delivery to make -- we are not ‘heroes’. We can scare off a tiny spattering, but a convoy?”
“It’s best if you nip it off at the source,” Orin piped in, his blade hanging off his thick belt.
Jarren eyed the barber suspiciously before leaning off his saddle towards Kiera, voice lowering, “You have an old man to get back to, and I have-- well it doesn’t matter, but you get the jist. Let’s just go to Kendles, give Lauriel her things, notify the next set of able bodied mercenaries about the problem and get on with it.”
She sighed. They both had a point “We’ll look into it when we have the time.” she told the man they had rescued.
The man nodded vigorously, happy it was even considered. Orin put a hand on his donkey’s side, “I don’t suppose you want a lift back to Kendles.”
“Parrel’s pants, no!” The man swore. Orin nodded.
“I thought not,” He looked at the other two, “Kendles is only about half a day away, if we keep going, I’d say we can get there before the day is through.”
“Then let’s move.” Jarren looked over at Kiera, as if asking for assurance.
Bowser: new Power: Dark Magic (size shifting): Bowser uses dark magic to increase or decrease his size. Bigger for power, smaller for door access. Also affects items he is wearing such us the suit, hat, mecha mit and anything in his pockets. These will return to regular size if removed. Major damage and anti magical effects can now forcibly shrink bosser down to his smallest size, which is about a head taller than peach.
Jr: new strength: Scrap Mechanic: jr has learned how to better work with broken machinery others would simply throw away, be it fixing the team’s gear or salvaged enemy equipment for reuse, repair materials or upgrade components.
Three things happened in quick succession that made jr’s mood whiplash.
First the fat hamster blew him off for a ride onward with the Rabbids which was outrageous
Then the two humans came along and offer their help with the car, which was great.
Then the clown mech exploded because some dumb rat pushed its self destruct button.
“Why! Why why why gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh” jr raged, stomping his foot on the bettle back of the monster truck ““what coind of absolute moron puts a self destruct button in their robot, and why do dumb rodents keep making my day worse!”
Jr was left panting after his temper tantrum but eventually got a hold of himself “ugh. Suuuucks.” he complained one last time before turning to look at what was actually left of the enemy's machines. This turned out to be a bunch of wrecked cars, robot parts and disabled monster truck.
As he looked it all over he could see rather clearly what needed to be done to get the most out of all this junk. Jr grinned to himself and set to work.
After he’d the rabbids had finally retrieve his vehicle (and he's kicked them out to go back to their own wagon or stay to help jr) he’d spent part of the rest of the journey admiring peach’s new form, part enjoying the cowboy mercenary acting as the car’s new radio system and the rest wildly swerving to avoid the consequences of not paying attention to the road well enough. Bowser’s love for peach was not a physical attraction, more a kind of reverse Stockholm syndrome, but her transformation had certainly moved her appearance closer to the king’s preferred aesthetic. He’d mentioned that to her. It had not gone down well.
When Bowser rolled up to the rest stop there was only thing that interested him. Engineers and cool/edgy/pretty dudes he could take or leave, but the cozy looking restaurant called to the king.
He turned off the Bowser mobile’s engine, pocketed the key and step out of the car. He stomped over to the front door of grillbys before being confronted with the problem of its small door size. He frowned momentarily before snapping his fingers. Dark magic drained from his body like purple smoke as he shrunk down to a size similar to that of the greater dog sitting at the table inside. His suit and mecha mit, repaired by jr before he left, shrunk with him. After taking a few moments to set his clothes in the right place he pushed open the door and headed for the bar. Its patrons, mostly a bunch of dog people, where the most normal looking group Bowser had met so far in this whole adventure. The king had no idea why every other universe seemed to be filled with only people from the metro kingdom but it made them, in his opinion rather samy and hard to tell apart sometimes. He nodded to the courier as he passed by him sitting at the poker table and then found a seat at the bar. The Barkeep himself was a robot that was on fire, but they did not seem to mind, so that was fine.
”TWO BURGERS AND A SIDE OF FRIES FOR ME BARKEEP” he told robot, who he incorrectly presumed was the titular Gribly, after they’d received the courier’s order for a liquid lunch.
Quite a while after he had vacated the battlefield Kamek re-appeared in a puff of smoke. He’d gotten distracted reading and had lost track of time. Fortunately his absence did not seem to have been of great import to the battle, nor had he been left behind. Down below he could spot Koopa prince, along with a few others, who were all putting the finishing touches on the repair job of the massive monster truck that had attempted to destroy them less than an hour before.
Mostly jr had used the remains of the other smaller cars to fuel the necro smasher’s insatiable hunger for scrap, supplementing the dispensers slowly regenerating supply, and then turned the stated hammer on the various damaged parts of the machine. Rather than brutishly smacking the thing in any which place he had focused his efforts on beating the most important parts back into shape. The wheels where back, the front axle mended and the engine successfully patched together. The skeletons chained to the back had also been cut down and graffiti now marred the outside of the vehicle, scratching out Grimm own symbols in favor of the team's own. The koopa clan’s logo, painted in multi colored ink, was on prominent display on the hood of the car.
A few new modifications to the truck had also been made in addition to the repairs. Most notably half a dozen more seats had been stuffed inside the massive drivers compartment to accommodate the number of party members that had stayed behind without any other form of transport. A pile of guns, ammo, engine blocks and fuel tanks salvaged from the wrecks of the other cars were also chained down to the truck bed, along with useful bits of the sweet bot like the remains of it’s head and minigun arm.
As Kamek approached he saw that Jr’s clown car extend a pair of saw blades mounted on slim mechanical arms which the boy used to hack apart one of the remaining junker cars for scrap metal.
”I see you got those working again“ Kamek said to the boy as he drifted down on his broomstick to float next to the propeller lifted cart.
“yeah the big ear yellow rat guy, Spanner or something, found the crossed wires that were stopping them from coming out when I pushed the button.” Jr said as he absorbed the scrap pile into the necro smasher. “I’ve got some ideas for improving them and the monster truck if we ever find any kind of workshop.” he added.
”Very good young master. Lord Bowser has gone ahead again has he?” Kamek responded, doing his best to hide his disinterest in mundane machinery.
“yeah yeah. Probably at the rest stop by now.” jr said between hamer swings which smoothed out the last of the bumps in the truck's frame.
“Let’s be off and catch up with him then?” Kamek said, turning his broom towards the direction the party had been headed before they had been so rudely interrupted.
Jr nodded “Hope there's still something left to eat there. I’m starving” he said before turning and yelling at the rest of the repair crew. “Try not to break it before you get to the junction. Also one of you two” jr pointed at the gta team and then to the soul of needles currently sitting in a jar he’d gotten from his father that itself sat on the dashboard of the car “crush the clown’s soul already! If you don't like whatever clown cannon pops out throw it on the back with the other scrap. Alright I’m outta here!”
“Good work today minions.” Kamek added, thanking them in Jr’s stead.
With that the two Koopas soared away though the sky towards a reunion with their king.
Azura’s latest experiment with the reanimator engine was one that would truly test its ability to work its magic on soul crystals. She had sent a squad of wind elementals down to the vault to fetch a larger crystal, larger even than the fire giant she had already resurrected. They had returned with a number of crystals, but one stood out to her among the rest. Large as a tiger and dense as gold, it must have been an exceptional creature in life. What exactly it was she did not know, because the crystalized soul had only told them the curator who had tried to catalog it one thing.
Restore me.
Uninformative details was not entirely unheard of. Rignol’s description had been equally unhelpful, but the fact that it had used the communion with the curator to ask for new life was particularly interesting. She set the other larger crystals aside for now and had this one loaded into the machine.
The six she had already raised where currently down in the vault, satisfying their curiosity regarding the place they had temporarily been stored before their current unlife. It would also be good to have someone check in down there to make sure things were going as planned. She couldn't herself of course, even by proxy and she’d not foist that responsibility on Luis.
Almost immediately after the soul had been inserted the mechanisms around it where pushed out to their maximum volume, failing to accommodate what they were being commanded to create. Azura had expanded it to accommodate the re-animation both of larger souls and of multiple souls simultaneously, but it seems that had not been enough, for the void soul’s half constructed form began to spill from within the forge moments later. Tendrils and limbs with too many joints covered with eyes, mouths and other ill placed organs burst out between the mechanical limbs, along with beams of sickening light. The worst part was not the failure of the machine, nor the horrors it produced or the way that those parts did not seem to fit in the limited dimensions of the Architect's realm, but that Azura felt a presence both familiar, alien and impossible to grasp. The mechanism in her mind warred with her own will as she tried to grasp what she was not recalling. It was different from the other, not quite, memories. It was truly hers and yet she was being denied access to it. The unholy sights and internal conflict tore at Azura’s psykey, causing her to scream in pain.
”No. This will not do.” spoke the thing being born, its voice legion, and all at once the eldritch parts were pulled into the machine. Then its arms pushing inwards and smothered the crystal. The unholy light bloomed for one final time and then standard operating recomenced.
Azura, who had slumped to her knees while clutching her chest, watched as the arms peeled away from their work to reveal a stone cat that could never have fit the soul crystal that had been inserted into the machine. Its smooth stone body was black as obsidian and unmarred by any real details except for two eye like holes, out of which two tendrils of red Verse streamed out around the sides of its head to trail along behind it.
“What in the Void was that! Where did you put yourself? And why do feel like I know you?” Azura demanded in a pained voice as the war with her own mind raged on.
”This world is so restrictive compared to the void. It would not fit my holy form. So I have placed myself elsewhere and will be working though this proxy for the foreseeable future.” the cat shaped thing explained as it casually padded across the stone floor towards her ”Do not worry about what you saw. It will not happen again, and you will soon forget it ever happened.”
The word washed over the god, reinforcing the machine in her mind trying to suppress the memory. Her first memory. Yet there was an incompatibility between the power of the command and what it had expected to find, the two failing to join forces as they should. She did not know why this was, but in her mind Azura assaulted this split, forcing power in between the fault between the two until she found herself encapsulating the part of her mind she could not know about. For the first time she could grasp it, even if it was indirectly.
”That is not supposed to be happening.” spoke the cat with quiet concern.
Yet even as she gripped it the black box began to slip away from her. Azura acted on impulse, fleeing from the alien that had always been in her mind. Azura’s crystalized soul cracked, and then was torn apart. Her armonia body was torn open and the larger half was launched out of it, clattering to the floor.
For a moment there was silence, and then the crystal chunk began to glow. The light began to expand slowly until, after several minutes, it had formed the shape of a human sized Tonnikala The glow faded, and Azura woke up to the sound of arguing.
”Gahh! Of course the old bastard wouldn't trust me. What a fucking hypocrite! Now look what has happened because of that! You ruined everything! Why couldn’t you have burned with the rest of them!“ said a new voice. It was somewhat like hers, Azura noted, if she had been older, meaner and swore like a sailor.
”Of course you could not be trusted. You being here proves that my watch was necessary. Had you not been here, the safeguard would have never been breached and all could have continue as intended. The price of redemption was death. You know this, and yet you cling to life regardless, like a wretched parasite.” the cat’s voice was still a calm monotone and yet still conveyed anger. It was the idea of anger, rather than the sound of it Azura thought groggily as she carefully sat up.
Before her stood the Armonia body, still animated despite her absence. It was failing to strangle the stone cat. ”Cease this needless violence, there is still time to rectify the situation.” it said, entirely unperturbed by the attempt at murdur.
The arguers quietened at her awakening, both turning their heads to look at her. The stranger wearing her old form, dropped the feline.
Rather than speaking immediately Azura examined her mind and found the hole where the memory lock had been. Now there remained only the fragments of a near incoherent mess that hurt to touch. Her own memories where still intact however, including the one that the sight of the void soul had called to mind only to be suppressed. It was, in a sense, her birth. A vast being, eldritch, ancient and yet supposedly benevolent existed in the void, one of an untold multitude of unknowable horrors and wonders that called the space between space their home. It had done something to her, making her something new from what she had been before meeting it. Then released her, but not before suppressing the memory of his own existence from her mind. Now she knew its name however.
“Ludicium.” she said it out loud, mulling the name over, savoring it like a victory.
“You're Ludicium’s creature, I can practically smell his essence rolling off of you.” she told the cat, her tone accusatory as she finally addressed her two guests and demanded answers. “What did Ludicium do to me. Who was I before?”
”I can answer that.“ the woman butted in, only for the cat to interject ”You will not.”
”The jig is up, the genie is out of the bottle and the bull has already rampaged through the china shop.“ she retorted
”All that would be required would be some light cauterization of her soul and the situation could be salvageable.” The cat insisted.
“Cauterization? Cauterization!” A storm of wind raged forth from Azura, gripping the stone cat and hauling it skywards “Whatever you did I will now allow again.” she told it with uncontained anger
”Yeah you tell him!“ the Armonia wearing soul fragment cheered, before suddenly switching tune ”Wait. no. Shit. You're supposed to be better than that. Put him down this instant young lady! It’s not like he could do it anyway.“
“You dare!” Azura growled, turning her howling anger upon them yet to her surprise, the Armonia raised her arms and pushed back against her wind. The two where caught in an unsexpected battle, torrents of wind whipping through the halls of the sky bastion.
“Who are you? How are you doing that!” she cried, as she began to overwhelm her mortal bodied foe. The stranger was forced down by the winds, crouching as she forced her hands into the wind. ”I. Am. Azura.“
The wind war quickly died as Azura attempted to process this. “What?” Azura said. She was both utterly confused and very, very worried.
The other Azura stood, hands spread wide as she introduced herself. ”I am Azura. The jewel in the morning sky, breaker of empires, slayer of sorcerer kings, liberator of billions.“
”The tyrant of freedom.” added the cat. ”The Bloody Feathered Diabolist. Master and abandoner of an entire world.”
Azura stared at this monster with disbelief, touched by horror.
”Look,“ the other Azura said with insight, the ego of her introduction deflated by her other, less desirable, titles.”You know that bit in your mind that couldn’t touch all this time? It’s who you were before we reached an agreement with Ludicium and it is who I still am.“
”The mental lock wasn’t supposed to be you. Your will was supposed to die and yet you lingered on, betraying Ludicium in the process” there were at least seven metaphysical layers of conceptual depth added to the void things name when the cat said it.
”I just wanted to see how it would turn out is all.“ the other Azura insisted ”This was one-hundred percent not part of the plan, but then again neither was being dragged into another universe and being made into an actual literal god.“ she shrugged. ”Don’t get me wrong. I’ve killed a few things that called themselves gods but the ones here are all on a whole other level of power compared to what I’ve fought before.“
“I think.” Azura said slowly “That I really don't want to be you.”
”Well good news. That was the plan all along! What was it you were telling the dead people again? That this was a fresh start?“ the other Azura walked up to her and wrapped a friendly arm around her shoulders. Her other one stretched out in front of her as she laid out the possibilities of their new existence.”Well think of everything after Ludicium as one of those. Except you also get the bonus of having me here to stop you making the same mistakes we did last time!“
“This sounds like a terrible idea.” Azura replied, still rather overwhelmed
”It is.” the cat agreed”Other than drip feed you information, light prodding was all the alteration to your mind the mental construct should have done. This state of affairs is not intended in the slightest.”
”Again, neither was the whole god thing and damn, have you been working overtime in fighting the good fight with the power its granted you. Which means people must be pissed at you and you’ll need all the help you can get beating them! Or. uh. Convincing them your plan for souls is for the best?“ The older her insisted.
Azura pulled herself away from... Herself? “I appreciate the offer but I am going to need to think about this. It’s a lot to take in.”
”I’m afraid you might not have time for that.” Said Luis via an Alma that fluttered into the room with them. The great whale seemed rather unperturbed by however much of the conversation he had overheard. ”Because we have two sets of problems.”
The Void soul Ringol entered just after him, bearing the first part of dire news. “Azur-” Rignol started, facing two Azura’s. He quickly shook his head and walked over to the both of them and outstretched his hands to show the crystal and the creature. “Azura, the vault is overrun with these creatures. They have infected constructs, crystal souls and Gusts, turning them against us. The others are currently holding the line at the mouth of the vault. The situation is most dire.”
”And we are about to receive guests.” Luis added as an image appeared before the four void souls, showing four gods all advancing towards the Vault, through the snowy wastes surrounding the north pole.
Azura is alone after the undead have headed down to the vault. She attempts to resurrect a large void soul which turns out to be the one that followed her to the architects realm and which had whispered in her mind once before. Initially it attempts to manifest as a minor eldritch horror, but unsatisfied with this form it uses the machine to shunt its own massive soul crystal into some other realm and builds a body in the shape of a regular sized cat. Azura has a mental breakdown from having witnessed the half formed horror, extremely strong deja vu and having her mental lock fighting her to suppress the knowledge of why she is having dejavu. The watcher attempts to aid the mental lock with its own power but in doing so reveals a schism between its expectations and the mental construct’s actual state. This lets azura find its shape for the first time. She violently rips away from it, ejecting herself out the Armonia body she was inhabeting as a result She wakes up a few moments later and finds out that the shard of her soul she fled from has a mind of its own. It is her old mind and memories from before an encounter with a thing called Ludicium that exists in the void. It and she came to an agreement, that she would be reborn to cast of her former sins. Azura is the result of that rebirth, but her old self broke the agreement and stashed itself away in the mental construct intended to guide her new self’s growth. The old azura says she will aid the new in avoiding the mistakes that led her to seek redemption. The new one is hesitant to agree, and the watcher is against the notion entirely. They are unable to come to an agreement as news of kalmar and co’s approach arrives, along with the reveal of Orvas’s sabotage of the vault.
Start: 3 fp 4 mp
2MP for ‘old Azura’ - an Avatar.
End: 3FP 2MP
Portfolio progress:
Birds (9/10) Bards (4/10) Necromancy? (7/10)
The Windweavers, The Spellsingers.
Starting prestige: 4 +1 prestige for being in the post +1 prestige for a collab Final prestige: 6
Drifting Pollen
Rezod92
Izurich
Lexisheeps
xxjessicaxx
Timemaster
Eviledd1984
pkken
VitaVitaAR
