Knight Sylvestre
Location: Oldtown
The sun made remarkable progress in little over an hour, staining the dimming blue heavens yellow and orange as it slid down toward the horizon. With restoration begun on Cyril's armor, the Vanguard and the God Hand took it easy for the sake of their wounds. They had worked together to retrieve their surviving attacker from where she'd been laid out cold and install her in one of the restaurant's booths, and now sat as they waited for her to awaken.
Ever patient, Cyril nevertheless allowed his mind to wander. It helped to not concentrate on the aches and pains that filled him, even as they grew steadily less prominent. Though neither he nor Juniper felt like being talkative, they had agreed that since they were to work together, they should figure out to do it. With a pretty intimate knowledge of each others' basic capabilities due to their fight, they discovered to their mutual surprise a great deal of depth neither would have guessed. To know and to understand were, after all, two different things. Cyril found himself intrigued by Juniper's summoning and ritualistic sealing, neither of which came out during their duel earlier in the day. Once she learned the mechanics of Sheen, Juniper came to respect Cyril's creative and pragmatic usage of the simple power to boost and redirect momentum. The two confirmed that both could throw or boost the other, and resolved to do so for a surprise attack when the situation called. Not long after Juniper suggested that she could project a rope to snare and retrieve Cyril's shield should he throw it, or to create a deadly saw-flail. In turn, the Vanguard guessed that he could transfer his momentum boost to her if he activated it while holding her. That one, the two tentatively took to the plaza to test, and after a few failed attempts and other experiments they returned to the restaurant confident in their shared ability. If a finishing blow was called for, he could rocket her into position to deal a God Unleash: Strength with monumental force. Neither knew what to expect from their next opponent, but the thought was exciting.
Another half hour passed before the stand user woke up. She twitched, blinking, before sitting upright in her booth. When her bleary vision cleared, she could see Cyril and Juniper seated opposite her, and she adopted a grim look. They said nothing to begin with, so a couple more seconds passed before the woman noticed something and addressed them. “Howell?”
Cyril's frown did not change. “If you mean the man you came here with, he's dead.”
The woman stared at the napkin dispenser on the table. “...Ah...”
Her response left Juniper incredulous. “You look shocked,” she remarked in a sharp tone. “You attacked us. Assaulted us with something we didn't understand or know how to fight against, backed us into a corner. Kill or be killed.” Cyril nodded, being close to saying something similar.
“I'm guessing you didn't kill me because you wanted information, then.” The woman's gaze flashed between the two competitors. “Well, I don't want to die. What do you want to know?”
“Cooperative, huh?” the Vanguard sneered. He glanced at his ally to see if she felt like grilling their former foe, but she shrugged, so he continued. “Let's start with your name.”
“Raleigh Barnaby.”
“You're with the college?” Raleigh nodded. “We didn't find any Artifacts on you. What was that power you two used?”
Taking a deep breath, the woman started to explain. “They're called Stands. As best we know, they are ghostlike projections of one's spirit, or soul. They are mostly invisible to normal people, and they can't be hurt by anything other than another Stand, either. But there's some inconsistency, like whatever came up with them forgot to follow its own rules. Each one has one unique power.”
“Well?”
Still bearing a dark expression, Raleigh kept her voice icy. “They aren't totally in tune with us, but for the most part we give them commands, so we came up with names to use. My 'Humbling River' pours out a torrent of water from its jug, which makes an impenetrable barrier. At least, that's what we thought after testing earlier today. You got inside it...somehow.” Her resentment came thinly veiled. “Howell named his 'Journey.' It didn't manifest like the rest, but stretched down from a point in the sky whenever he called it to attack. Looks like a giant alien, sort of.”
“You said 'we',” Cyril prodded. “There are more of you?”
Raleigh looked as though she were seated on hot coals. “...Yes.”
“You know, it's pretty nice of us to not be conducting this interview by chopping off your fingers or something. Tell us all about whatever I ask, if you please, starting with the others and these 'Stands' of theirs.”
To steady her breath, Raleigh focused for a minute, then continued. “Aralynn and Davian Thule, with Heatseeker and Boys of Summer. Margaret Fontain and her Manic Drive. Emilia Redsmith and Wild Nothing. Pieter LeGroning has Weird Autumn, and Jaroslava has Pure Imagination. My husband, Edward Barnaby, has Kno One.”
Cyril's eyes narrowed. “No-one?”
“That's its name.”
“Okay.” He crossed his arms. “I take it you weren't born with this stuff, so where did you get them?”
A hand ran through Raleigh's hair. “A man named Nero found an arrow that can give one to whoever it stabs, as long as that person has the aptitude.”
Juniper and Cyril shared a glance. After a moment, the latter's voice came again, low and urgent. “Where is the arrow now?”
“Downtown, which you cannot get to, in the hands of Fontain, whom you cannot hope to defeat. I don't understand her power, but it's terrifying.”
“Why can't we get there?”
“Because of the giant chasm south of here.”
“So how did you get here?”
The slightest flinch crossed Raleigh's countenance as she answered. “Dropped off by helicopter. Those are the black things you've seen flying over the city today, with what look like saws on top of them.”
The interrogation did not last much longer. It provided little that Juniper and Cyril could act on, but a lot of valuable information nonetheless. If what Raleigh said was true, an object existed in the City of Echoes that could confer a monstrous advantage to whoever possessed it. That was dangerous, especially given the College's new mission as stated by Raleigh to stop the tournament, but it was also an opportunity to help make Cyril's wish reality. For now, however, they would have to wait in anticipation of their next battle. After some consideration, the pair locked Raleigh up in one of the restaurant's back rooms, then resumed their collaboration.
The Lady in White
Location: Kno One
@Lazo“Of course,” came the resonance, assailing Pithy from all sides. “This place might as well be me, after all. As for Nero, I think it would be in your best interests to think about yourself first.” Midway on the sorceress's trip to the unmarked door, a number of two-inch-diameter pipes appeared beneath her. They stretched up from the floor -no, phased through it- and attempted to lash around her limbs, bending like pool noodles with a hideous wrenching sound despite appearing to be made from metal. To either side of her, a table began to move. Their legs moving them like animals', the two heavy wooden tables rushed toward her from opposite sides, aiming to crush her while the pipes prevented her from getting out of the way.
“Hm?” Screed paused for a moment, his voice indicating bemusement. “A ride...on yer plant monster?” Good-natured as Bonesword's request had been, neither the mummy nor the slime seemed to think of it as anything more than weird. “Oh, to where we're 'eaded. Heheh, 'fraid Ah'm gonna have to decline. We got our own way back—instant one-way ticket 'ome.” Holding up his hand, Screed showed off the signet ring on his own finger. Taking told of it with the index finger and thumb on his other hand, he began to twist the emblem, which made an audible clicking noise as it began to light up with a white glow. Before whatever adjustment he was making could complete, however, he let go, and the emblem snapped back into its original position.
Adopting a thinking pose with one hand on her chin and the other crossed beneath her chest for the first other elbow to rest on, Verrine glanced at Bonesword. “So you're not from this world, either?” Her eyes widened, and she turned to Screed with balled fists upheld in excitement. “The tournament might be gathering people from across dimensions! If we can figure out what's causing the shift, we can not only go home, but maybe even find the 'home dimension' that the other Great Beings returned to!” Eyes watering, she turned her gaze toward the ground, clasping her hands. “We could all be together again, just like the way things used to be. You'd see your creator again, and the others...Carreau would be so happy...if I won, my wish would have been to find a way, but maybe we can make it real anyway!”
A moment of quiet passed before Screed coughed. “Er...yer quick on the uptake, missy, but while ye were...uh, dead, the rest of us kinda came t'the same conclusion.” He cracked his neck, glancing at Bonesword a moment before continuing. His next words held what some might term 'classified information,' but this skeleton-man seemed alright, and not much of a threat. “Deadbeat Sky's gone underground. Boss thinks the important stuff's 'idden somewhere thereabouts, and Ah ain't fixin' to disagree.” Screed's eyes lingered on Bonesword. “Ah ain't sentimental, either, but it's always nice t'meet a fellow undead. Good luck in the proceedin's, pardner. See ya 'round.”
Screed made a half-turn so that he, Frolic, and Verrine formed a rough triangle. “Let's boogie.” All three began to fiddle with their rings, preparing to warp away.
The Book Keeper
Location: Flooded Historical District
@BCTheEntityA number of muted explosions sounded out across the watery expanse, their percussion accompanied by blasts of water from beneath the surface. Thanks to a combination of debris and Heavy Fuel's remnants, not a single one of Aralynn's underwater missiles hit their mark. Once the waves died down and the echoes ceased, a moment of comparative quiet took hold. No sound came from inside the building to suggest a struggle between Runch and Davian, allowing Motley a chance to perceive his surroundings. The water proved too murky to see through, but it wasn't long before his opponent made herself known once more.
A pained gasp for air broke the silence as Aralynn hauled herself up onto a sloped section of street about three hundred feet away. She dragged herself up from the water, but could barely get a few inches before flopping down face-first onto the pavement. As the dirty water dripped away, it gave way to blood. A great many lacerations covered the woman head-to-toe, some still bearing the pieces of debris that caused them, stick in her clothes or skin. Her ears bled profusely, their damage owing to the shockwave with which Crue bombarded the lake. Her arms and face appeared blackened, as if burned or corroded by some virulent substance, which more than likely meant that Aralynn had been hit with a bit of Heavy Fuel's body. For a few moments she seemed alone, but in short order some Boys of Summer approached from different directions to take up positions around her. From their lack of other activity it seemed that they could not negate harm already inflicted, but instead prevent harm from happening. Her shaking told Crue that despite her great injury she remained alive.
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