Tora
Level 1 - (7/10) EXP
Location: 1-1, Starting Line
Word Count: 754
The motley group gathered together for the descent, a few jumping aboard their self-appointed commander for an easy ride as the team advanced. Tora took note of how unreservedly Bowser allowed both Michael and Blazermate to climb him, and he watched as the King Koopa sacrificed one of his fancy suit's buttons for the sake of a down payment on the Courier's services. Closing his eyes for a moment, the Nopon chuckled to himself; though he blustered an awful lot, Bowser clearly possessed a caring heart. Tora found himself distracted from the wholesome thoughts, however, when Blazermate turned 'round to answer him. Her response, informative and then alluring, kicked his heart and mind into overdrive. “Ahh! Healybot who can also fight, with twintails that are fists? Blazeymate is incredible! Will look forward to this later time for sure.” His joy put a spring in his step, but with assurance of a later meeting given, he put that energy toward focusing on the task at hand.
Before the team lay a choice. Three paths confronted those without the power of flight, and a number of Tora's allies made up their minds quickly. Recognizing the creatures that stood in his way, Bowser opted for the middle route, and he took his riders with him. The Courier, meanwhile, headed left, strolling down a dusty incline into a rock-lined canyon, and Zer0 followed suit. Nobody seemed interested in taking the rightmost way, which constituted more of a scenic nature walk than a real path, but Tora did spy something else more interesting than any of the roads in front of him.
Breaking away from Bowser's squad for a moment, Tora hurried over to a nearby mushroom to join the armored Centurion. He arrived just in time to hear Agoston's first boisterous greeting, which appeared to jolt the robed figure awake. For a moment the stranger struggled with his hammock, which coincided well with his visitor's distraction by Bowser. Tora glanced over as well to see the reptile bellowing at some local fauna, then promptly returned his gaze to the more thought-provoking matter at hand. If everything the Nopon had seen and heard up to this point was to be taken at face value, the light of the being responsible for the state of this world was all-consuming. Therefore, nothing from the mightiest beast to the puniest bug should have been able to escape its fate, which the haunting look of the wildlife substantiated. Yet, despite this man's dark robe, he bore neither red eyes nor wanton aggression. Curious.
The stranger in question extricated himself from his hammock and stood up to his full height long before Agoston finished speaking. He rolled his neck to get a crick out and even made a spinning motion with his hand in exasperation, gesturing for the Centurion to wrap it up. When given the slightest opportunity, he seized the chance to talk, speaking in a firm but playful voice. “'Kay, lot to unpack here, but first things first: merchant?! You think I look like some poor widdle peddler wandering around trying to make ends meet? I mean, sure, there's a bunch of gizmos and things around, “ he made one sweeping motion to his left side in a theatrical manner, then another to his right. “But think about it. All homes, gone. All customers, gone. Materials, suppliers, everything we know and love? All gone. And now we've got this.”
He spread his arms wide, taking in the scenery. “...A hostile paradise. Full of wonder! And terrible danger, since aside from you dorks, the only one who's not gone coo-coo is me.” His gaze returned to Agoston, then flitted between all those nearby, though nobody could make out anything beneath his hood. “Oh, I see. You're the bunch that find my eye, huh? You look different...some of you seriously different, I'm talkin' WAY different. Guess that's to be expected. And if you're gonna get my eye, I guess I've got a thing or two to tell ya.”
He gave an exaggerated bow before straightening up with a hop and clasping his hands behind his back. “I am the Master of Masters! You don't know me, but even though this is my first time meetin' you, I know you preeeeeetty well. If I do say so myself, I've pulled together a nice, solid understanding of this world, its Spirits, and what you lot need to do to set things right. If you've got questions, I'll give 'em the ol' listen. With me so far?”
Bowser's roar and flaming breath shook and scorched the ground, respectively, but if the goombas and koopas before him recognized their King at all, they gave no sign. Instead, the entire force turned its collective eyes on him, then moved to attack together.
A horde of the grimacing mushrooms charged Bowser's way, running at a full-on sprint, but a couple broke off in the direction of nearby blocks. With surprising strength they kicked the bricks they came across, sending heavy chunks of brick flying at not just Bowser, but also those upon him. The assault goombas, meanwhile, proved tougher than their reputation might let on; though just as vulnerable from above as ever, their body slams packed a wallop, enough to make the King Koopa stagger or even topple over if a sufficient number hit him. Once the more tactical goombas finished with their makeshift projectiles, they hurried to stack themselves, and the sheer number of goombas present made for a tower as high as Bowser himself. Once made, the goomba stack stampeded Bowser's way after the rest of its brethren.
The koopas, meanwhile, remained away from the front lines. Some of them retreated into their shells to be kicked by their kindred, essentially becoming curling stones capable of cracking ankles and armor alike. After a hit of any kind, the koopa within the shell would burst out to join the melee. These koopas, together with the goombas, made for a potent swarm attack. While none proved particularly strong, their numbers and all-out offense demanded a great deal from Bowser, Blazermate, Din, Michael, and Ratchet.
An unnatural silence permeated the canyon, broken only by the muffled noises of conflict from afar. As the Courier and Zer0 proceeded deeper, the walls rose higher and higher around them. Those irregular, uneven walls harbored all sorts of dark nooks and crannies, ledges and even natural bridges, and anything could be hidden atop the giant mushrooms that sprouted from the great crevasse's floor, the undersides of which any intruders could only peer at with narrowed optics.
Still, no enemies greeted them for a minute or two as the heroes advanced. Only after jumping down a small lip did a sound echo through the canyon—the sound of shifting stone. A moment later, a boulder rolled over the edge of the crack, plummeting downward to smash into the ground at the top of the lip. Though unlikely to crush anyone, it did block their path backward, and the reason why soon became clear.
Ugly, charred faces, once pink and purple and green, appeared over the edges of the rock ledges and giant mushrooms, gibbering in excitement and derision. A number hurled themselves over the edges to land on the canyon floor in waves, but others remained behind with bows or javelins. Taking stock of the situation meant arriving at a single, potentially worrisome conclusion: though unintelligent and weak, the three mook races seemed to possess a fair share of cunning, and together enacted a troublesome ambush. The mob of physical attackers required the heroes' focus, lest their clubs, axes, and crude spears inflict nasty blows, and in doing so they made their ranged counterparts' jobs -already quite safe thanks to their higher ground- even easier. Moreover, this section of canyon bore few outcroppings and boulders on the ground level to hide behind; clearly, the location of the ambush had been carefully planned.
Bearing brutish features twisted by expression of malice, the goblins, kobolds, and bokoblins rushed forward to attack, and a steady rain of projectiles from above ensued. A dead-on headshot would do the trick, but a single shot to the body, unless delivered from a heavier rifle to the heart or aimed at a joint, would not. However, some of the ranged attackers' arrows and javelins found themselves stuck in the heads and backs of their own allies, though none of them seemed to care.
Geno sailed above his allies and their troubles, skipping clean past the first area on the way to Peach's castle. From above, he could see how the terrain changed as one drew closer to the citadel. After the branching path, the road ahead appeared more plain, though somewhat winding. A dirt path led the way through the
area, its grassy fields of various elevation divided by water, small cliffs, and trees. Much larger brick blocks appeared scattered around. A number of these battlefields littered the path, and as Geno passed over, he could see a small army of
enemies. Some lounged about, but others, closer to the castle, were engaged in furious battle against a few different
kinds of
machines. Beyond the grassy warzone, which seemed to be the territory of the former faction, lay the stronghold of the robot faction, a great scrapyard. Once a racetrack, it now bore piles and piles of broken-down racing karts, clown cars, and robots. Oversized toy blocks also contributed to its clutter, some stacked together into a sizable tower. Beyond the scrapyard, more grass extended for a way before reaching the edge of the enormous moat the surrounded the castle.
However, Geno would not be a spectator for long. Even as he passed over the first zone, the long-eared creatures took note of him. A peppering of energy blasts flew up at him from below, inaccurate but strong, and as he drew closer to the place of battle, some of the robots joined in. Their shots, though less damaging, proved far more accurate. At the same time, danger manifested in the air itself. Small groups of tenacious
birds flew up from below, moving with remarkable speed, to attack Geno with fierce beaks and wicked claws.
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