Lugubrious

*+. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Coldplay .+*

I'd like to throw my hat in, if I may. I'll work on a sheet for your review.

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

Artemisia

Alymere Fort Exterior

The energy of the company, strident and assured given the relatively minor threat posed by their adversary, gave way to a potent silence as it began its approach. Toward its rear lagged Artemisia, indistinguishable from an ordinary army caster thanks to her borrowed robe, over whom the quiet hung heavier than for most. With its sizable opposing forces, strict organization, and proper chain of command, this would be her first real battle. Her status among her kin meant that by now she'd been in her fair share of fights, but this fight would be an altogether different beast. As the force neared the fort, she found the same old question ate at her stronger than ever: how exactly would she contribute to the fight without using her magic? That question presented a difficult dilemma with no good answer. If she fought, she would be flaunting her malignant talents for all to see. She shivered just imaging the elders' reaction to a new Wayfarer acting so brazenly, and in such near proximity to the swamplands, no less. Yet, if she just stood by, the others would surely notice. Either path invited unwanted attention on her. Artemisia heaved a despondent breath, more of a strangled exhale than a melancholy sigh. She'd gotten herself into a rotten situation. Her worries and doubts could not trouble her for long, however. Before she knew it, the bandits' watchmen spotted the battalion, and in reply prince leading the company began the assault. For many his outcry served as a spark on powder, causing tensed muscles to spring into action, but Artemisia wanted to shrink back. Yet, there was no running away now. The dark mage needed to get her head out of the clouds. After narrowing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she laid a palm against the side of her head and cast a tiny Flux. The sharp burst of gnawing, burning pain jolted her into alertness, awakening her battle instincts. Before her, the budding battlefield became clearer. Thanks to her numerous melee allies, she could approach without fear of targeting from enemy swordsmen or axemen, but those were bows and hawk-eyed heads peering over the Alymere's battlements. Mages like her made a tempting target for archers, given their generally low defense and propensity for standing still while casting. Still, it was a risk she could take. The army tailors, clearly no fools, made their caster uniforms purposefully drab to avoid inviting attention. If the first push got through, which it surely would, there would be too much chaos for bowmen to take potshots. With that in mind, Artemisia took off running to join the charge. Ahead, the force split. Some, including a cavalry archer ahead of the curve, went for the main gate. Among them Artemisia recognized Trace, but the sight elicited no reaction from the mage in fighting mode. The others, Artemisia knew, would be enacting a gambit made possible in part by her own work helping an alchemist the other day: a barrel packed with magical explosives would be used to breach part of the wall and open up a second line of attack. Opting for the latter group, Artemisia continued to sprint forward until with a start she found herself much farther forward than she would have liked. Nervous, she glanced backward. Where were all the melee fighters? In reply an arrow hit the ground nearby, narrowly missing her leg, and she jumped in fear. The shock transformed into a flood of indignant anger that drowned the dark mage's common sense. “You do NOT!” A purple spiral wreathed in black smoke sprung to life in her hand, and she thrust it at the battlements. In an instant they were consumed by a tenebrous Miasma. Artemisia realized what she'd done the next second and cursed her rashness. “Hell's teeth! The rush overcame me!” Well, it was out of her hands now. Hopefully the others would concentrate more on being thankful for the archers' disruption than on her playing her hand minute one, like an idiot.

__________________________ Status: Overengaging Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets

World of Light

I can respond to all possible parties some time this weekend, and not all characters need a big post or anything, so if it's been a while don't hesitate to get something out.

World of Light

Announcing a new game mode, for your RPing pleasure...

Master Dreams

In the heroes most vulnerable moments, in the depths of sleep and senselessness, he reaches for them--Master Hand. Into the distant realm of fancy seep images delightful or disturbing, for one purpose only: to break down their resolve and make them stop trying, whichever form that takes. Yet perhaps there is meaning to be found in the madness; Master Hand will find no sleeping slaves.
The Deal: A limited time opt-in event involving writing short stories that take place in dreams, canonically to occur when next your selected character sleeps or is otherwise out of it.
The Details: Before the end of the day on the provided deadline, submit a short story of your character's dream that follows the related event prompt. The dream can be of anything, and does not need to be isolated to your own character and/or his or her past experiences. Using elements from multiple games is encouraged, given the nature of this RP. Other players' characters can appear in yours's dream, but while you can consult other players, you'll need to play those characters; they can be distorted by your character's perspectives or by the dream. If you like, you can bookend your dream in brief falling asleep / waking sequences, but since we don't know where, when, or how your character will sleep next, keeping it vague would be best, and such bookends won't supplement the word count.
The Rewards: For the dream, EXP is rewarded via the following scale, where n is the level of the character that's dreaming:
<1000 words = 3 * n ; 1000-2000 words = 5 * n ; 3000+ words = 9 * n
In addition, certain elements of the dream may bleed over to the real world somehow. These might take the form of items, additional kindred spirits, or other forms yet more mysterious.

Current Event: Halloween
Deadline: October 31st
Prompt: A tale of terror truly befitting the word 'nightmare'

Any questions? I'm here to help.

World of Light

Tora & Poppi

Level 5 Tora - (17/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (15/40) EXP
Location: Hamlet, the Land of Adventure
Word Count: 489
@DracoLunaris@Stekkmen

Instead of responding to the stranger's question verbally, Bowser started rooting around for the quest card and some valuables. It made for an awkward silence, and since the group was in fact intruding into someone's room, Tora rushed to pick up the slack. “Uh, hello! Sorry to barge in, meh. Is just, we have super-urgent problem and Tora hear you just the ticket. We need...”

At that point Bowser interjected, having produced payment he thought appropriate for the job, and in succinct if overbearing terms explained his proposal. The dubious expression on the woman's face said exactly what she was feeling, but after a moment, she seemed to change her mind. “Well...I guess you lot seem harmless enough.” Had the Centurion accompanied the others inside the inn, Tora ruminated, she might not be singing the same tune. Ever since his change, he'd been a lot more menacing and forceful, and not exactly conducive to negotiations. “I also need gold to buy my items,” she explained by way of justification, assuming the others knew what she referred to. “I'll join you for an hour or two. So long...” The Eagle leaped forward, snatched up Bowser's jewels, and returned to her. “As you pay in advance.”

Since the deal meant no skin off Tora's back, the Nopon was all smiles. “Yay! Good to work with you, miss!”

“Quinn.” The archeress pocketed the gems, then gave her bird a stroke. “This is Valor. We're warriors of Demacia now, rather than hunters, but its a good skill to keep sharp. And you are?”

“Am Tora!”

“Poppi is Poppi!”

Following the others' introductions, Quinn got straight to business. The no-nonsense woman took the lead with a fearsome powerwalk, forcing the stubby-legged Tora to hustle just to keep up. In a few moments, the party was bound northwest for the woods where Bowser's crew needed to hunt for ingredients. It promised to be a good walk, out of the Hamlet and across both plain and field, so Tora got tired of the silence quickly. “Miss Quinn mention Demacia. Sounds like place. If talk about it with no provocation, must be proud.”

The huntress nodded. “Indeed. We are honored to be of service.”

Her assurance hung in the air for a moment, quickly making it clear that she wasn't the talkative type. Instead, Poppi saved the day by addressing Bowser. “So, if Poppi remember right, Bowserypon says is big villain. But while you are kind of mean, and always act like boss when never do any leading, Bowser never actually do bad stuff. Only good. Seem more like villain from kids' story.”

Tora scratched his head. “Now that Poppi mention it, that true. Good thing, too,” he chuckled to himself, closing his eyes. “Tora and friends are big heroes. Always end up fighting baddypons.” While he couldn't see it, Quinn rolled her eyes.

Nodding, Poppi continued. “So Poppi wonders. What most villain thing Bowser has done?”

Pelagic Lake

Location: Land of Adventure
@Gentlemanvaultboy @Stern Algorithm @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @TruthHurts22

Though exhausted, those present couldn't help but to feel elated. Gran and Euden shared in Linkle's joy of accomplishment, with the latter in particular chuckling when she declared the land saved. “Heh. We sure did.” Of course, he didn't know what she meant by 'Hyrule', but now wasn't the time for specifics. He found his happiness draining away when he turned his attention back to Gran, however. Everyone took a few hits from the vicious pelagics, but Gran -an ordinary young fighter by all accounts- got it the worst. It was hard to feel good with an ally so hurt. If only Cleo were here—the dutiful Sylvan would be able to patch him up in a second. None of these people, unfortunately, looking like healers.

As such, when Linkle came over with talk of aid on her lips, Euden found himself surprised. His confusion only increased when the girl revealed her healing tonic of choice: milk. Yet, as he watched an equally stupefied Gran begin to drink it, he saw it magicking his injuries away. “What? There's healing power in mere food?” He almost didn't notice as Linkle manifested a friend heart and delivered it to Gran before he fully recovered. Euden didn't notice any effects, so he could only assume the heart to be some sort of symbol of affection. Despite himself, the young hero couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. Though unusually short for her age, Linkle was pretty cute in a tomboyish sort of way. Shaking his head, Euden dismissed the thoughts as he extended a hand. “Wow. I can hardly thank you enough. All of you.” He echoed the gratitude offered by Fyer and Falbi. “Without your arrival, we would have been dead for sure.” Rubbing his neck in embarrassment, he smiled. “That Hilda girl made the right choice staying behind, I guess. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, the reward is yours. We should get back to town to get everyone fixed up.”

Once everyone was ready to go, the group began the return journey to Lumbridge. The ride operators waved farewell, one enthusiastic but both sincere. After a little hesitation, Euden headed over to walk by Linkle. “Er,” he began. “I've been looking for other people from my world for some time now, but found only a couple. I thought for sure you were a Sylvan,” he glanced at her ears. “But...after you mentioned 'Hyrule' I wasn't sure. You aren't from Alberia, are you?”

Coral Highlands

Location: Land of Adventure
@ProPro @Yankee

A quick, well-aimed cut to the Tzitzi-Ya-Ku's face from the Cadet's blade convinced it to let go, but it had no idea what was waiting for it. Having hypered himself up through the use of Rushing Water, the Courier emptied his revolver into the beast. Six blasts escaped its chambers in a few blinks of an eye, staggering the bird wyvern before it could jump at the Cadet again. For a brief moment there lay an opening for the monster hunter to sink his sword in deep, but the Tzitzi-Ya-Ku had other plans. It dismissively lashed out with a leg, sweeping backward to catch the Cadet's shield or ribcage with a talon and tumble him away. Then it rushed at 6, flashing teeth bound for his unprotected face, completely ignorant of the Pokemon careening his way.

The Donphan hit like a truck, and the monster gave way. It bowled over with a loud, chicken-like squawk, allowing Ivories to roll right over it. As it sped on, the Pokemon's path carried it onto the spongy, tarplike top of a plate coral, into which it promptly stuck halfway in thanks to its speed and weight. Writhing where it fell on the ground, meanwhile, the Tzitzi-Ya-Ku looked rattled. Broken bones from the impact and white scars in its beautiful scales from bullets were telling it that these wouldn't be easy pickings.

Charnel Lane

Location: Dead Zone
@Archmage MC @DracoLunaris @ProPro @Dawnrider @Simple Unicycle @Genon

For Blazermate

Sparking spirit absorbed:
Medic Bot
Fusing with this spirit has yielded a vital part: the Uberheart. On Blazermate's back is a sort of clunky gray mechanical pack, with systems that extend into her upper torso. The heartlight on her chest is now rounded and steel-gray, with no light. She also appears to be wearing metal glasses now. Prominent on her pack is a large handle, defaulted in the upright position. The Uberheart grants the Power Ubercharge, which allows her to push down the handle and extend a beam to an ally that covers the target's body in a protective shell of sapphire energy. The beam lasts ten seconds, and it can be swapped between targets for the duration. While protected, an ally is impervious to damage but not force or certain status effects. In order to use Ubercharge, it must be built up by healing, and the charge resets after a minute of disuse. The Uberheart also grants the Weakness Antiquated Machinery, giving Blazermate a weak spot on her back, and making her susceptible to rusting.

The swarm of Rot Warts emerged to a slaughter. Several heroes worked to keep the organic gas bombs from sneaking up on anyone, detonating them before they could get into range. With half of the heroes in the air or on the move, they zeroed in on Jak and Daxter, Banjo and Kazooie, Gene, and the Engineer. Kamek and the sentry's combined bullets burst the Rot Warts one after another, but Blazermate could feel the exact moment feel when Dell -lazing in that recliner of his- disappeared, his time able to assist her at an end. Just a couple seconds later, the minigun attached to the Magikoopa's broomstick started giving out clicks instead of bullets, and soon the sentry gun followed suit. That left the wizard with just his wand. The supply of Rot Warts, however, remained plentiful. Those killed left behind thick clouds of Root Rot, infectious with just a single breath. The battlefield was quickly becoming a checkerboard of hazards for grounded fighters.

Meanwhile, Donnie and Gene visited Nero one after another, first cleansing him from the infection and then from Galeem's touch, before joining the assault on the Ent. Together the entire group hammered the Ent's weak point. Donnie delivered a rain of blows to the warmly glowing heartwood, and when Gene joined him a moment later, the two pummeled away together in a brutal flurry. Rosy miasma welled up from the wood, but while Donnie bailed Gene stuck around to keep the onslaught going. The God Hand let him press his advantage even while another salvo of rot rounds blasted up to fall like meteorites on the scattered heroes. From a distance, evading the organic mortar fire, Jak lent more than a hand with a yellow eco barrage. The Ent, hurting tremendously, let out another rumble. Banjo and Kazooie's Beak Barge, though not hitting a weak point, proved to be the final straw.

”NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG!”

Just as Gene jumped away, the wood on the Ent's upper back closed like a vice to block the vulnerability, and the monster slammed itself into the from of the cathedral. A tremendous crash signaled the destruction of its whole facade, stone and glass alike, in the monster's bid to get the pests off. Leaning into the broken building, it remained still for a moment. It did not think, but it could feel. It was a Root, part of the inexorable eldritch race that brought entropy to worlds beyond measure. Its foes were many, small, hard to hit with waves or minions on the ground. The Ent could sense that this wasn't working, but more than that, it could sense its enemies. It had no eyes, but it could see them still, possessed of the stink of wholeness. Of complacence. Like fireflies they buzzed around, near its legs, in the air...

There.

The Ent moved. It slammed its elbows into the building it had been appearing to slump against, propelling itself forward in a shower of dust and gas. Its right arm flew up and around in a colossal right hook, the momentum of its whole body behind the blow. Thousands and thousands of pounds of cursed wood hurtled into the way of Donnie's flight path to swat the annoying gnat from the sky. The force carried it forward, and a moment later its foot came down with an earth-shaking CRONCH on a group of Blazermate's undead. From the impact point rumbled a reddened shockwave, which sent ruptured shards of earth flying in every direction, including toward Banjo and Kazooie. It continued to expand outward, ultimately reaching and destroying the unattended sentry. The Ent's back, faced toward Jak, opened back up with a surge of Root Rot. Instead of shooting straight up to fall down, a number of rot-blobs cannoned straight toward Jak in quick succession. Finally, the treant clotheslined the remaining upper portion of the cathedral front, and a gigantic shower of rubble filled the sky.

-=-=-

A ways off, three pairs of eyes watched from the shelter of a side alley among the roots. Two of them watched the action with anticipation, but they looked to the owner of the third. For his part, the least of the three seemed more concerned with the book in his hand than the fight unfolding before him.

After the Ent's last attack sent debris flying, chunks of masonry were scattered across the plaza. One, the upper half of a statue depicting some saint, came a little too close; it blew straight through the storefront immediately to the trio's left, causing one of them to squawk in alarm. “Hey! Don'tcha think it's getting' a little heated in there champ? Wanna bail them out?”

The man whose shoulder the bird rested on gave a slight smile. “Great things are done when men and mountains meet.” A rogue hollow drew too close, and the man flicked his cane in its direction. His shadow moved, sliding across the ground like flowing black sand. It rose like a buzzsaw, neatly slicing the rotund plant in half, before returning in a flash. “Still, it would behoove us to show some consideration for our friends. Once I see how they answer this, we'll go.”

Chronicles of a Lost War

At the tail end of the procession, Malachi held his silence as he kept his distance. The thieves' den lat just ahead, and while Byron seemed eager to strategize, the brawler just knew that a few choice members of their impromptu squad would march right up and announce their presence. In fact, Izel and Sylphie did just that, the latter swaggering up with an almost disgusting confidence. Though he couldn't claim much experience with them, Malachi was beginning to see that children with power were dangerous things. What would an immature, highly-emotional child with neither responsibility nor restraint do with incredible strength...? This, apparently.

He watched as Sylphie gave a half-hearted attempt to coax a surrender out of the bandits, but they didn't seem to understand the predicament they were in. Stupid. As Malachi could attest, any highwayman worth his salt was as cautious as he was cunning, riding the fine line of the hyena between predator and prey. After negotiations went south, the slaughter ensued. From a ways off, Malachi watched with folded arms and a stony frown. Sylphie butchered the vagrants up one after another, and Izel treated them like playthings, toying with them until their tatters fell through her fingers. Malachi counted himself lucky that circumstances established him as a sort of compatriot to these killers. Slaying monsters was a duty often asked of the strong, and in both days spent wandering and in his village home, he'd saved many a life by putting an end to such threats. He didn't exactly want to spend enough time around them for their conceptions to change, and after seeing this, he didn't want to test his mettle as badly.

A moment after Aerarius left to join the dogpile, Malachi shook his head. “Seen all I need to,” he told Byron and Efander. He turned partways, trying to get a lay of the land and sky. “If ya don't mind, I think I'll be on my way.” A lot could change in a few hundred years, but the sun at least would lead him south until he reached the sea. After that, he could trace the shoreline until he caught sight of Sydene. Given the likelihood of his country being intact and recognizable -that is, not at all- he felt no particular rush, other than wanting to be away from here. Truly, he thought with a dry chuckle, I got all the time in the world.

World of Light

Tora & Poppi

Level 5 Tora - (16/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (14/40) EXP
Location: Hamlet, the Land of Adventure
Word Count: 684
@DracoLunaris@Stekkmen

Tora and Poppi watched in passive silence as Agoston and Bowser jointly decided for the group, plotting their course. Despite the interesting Hamlet of pigs, it appeared that the group wouldn't be spending much time here. Once they investigated the hunter lady mentioned by the helpful swine, they would be on their way. Poppi supposed that whatever Lumbridge scouts explored the wheat fields must also have stumbled upon the Hamlet too, but if not, she could deliver some information about this place back to the guild. For his part, Tora wondered if this settlement -with all its civilization and establishment- would vanish in the Land of Adventure's next rollover, or if it would remain as a fixture like Lumbridge. What exactly would happen to these people if it did? The thought of such a temporary life terrified him. He wasn't the sort of Nopon to stick his (nonexistent) neck out and be a hero for strangers, but all these happy, industrious pig people couldn't just blip out of existence, could they? But what could he do to help? What would Rex do...?

After a few more moments of deliberation, the Bowsers and the Centurion proceeded toward the inn. Tora, however, stayed still, and a worried Poppi remained with him. A couple seconds passed, with Truffleston and his associated looking at him confusedly, before Tora spoke up. “Meeh...piggypon mayor?”

“Yes, young man?”

“Do know how Land of Adventure works?”

The strange question caught the well-dressed porker off guard. “Er, I fear mine understanding does lack.” Clearly, he was having some trouble understanding the Nopon dialect as well.

A couple moments to process the troubling news later, Tora continued. “Meh meh, Tora not know too well either, but here is gist. People tell that each week, whole land regenerate itself. Almost everything changed or replaced. Some stuff not change, but Tora not know why, meh.”

The mayor looked aghast. “Preposterous!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Thy tale beggars belief. The Hamlet has stood proud since...since...”

Now in line with her masterpon's thinking, Poppi cut in. “Even if piggy mayor not believe, should really try in next few days to send folks west, past field and plain, to big town called Lumbridge. Talk with people, maybe try to set up road or route between Lumbridge and Hamlet. Maybe if connected with anchor, Hamlet not be lost.”

It was a leap of logic, but it was the best the pair could offer. Truffleston looked equal parts thoughtful and disturbed, and after a few moments he gave an assenting nod. “Very well. On the chance thou telleth truth, we will send envoys to yonder town. At the very least, trade doth fatten our pockets. But if thy warning spares the Hamlet some disaster, we will owe thee dearly.”

Tora and Poppi smiled. They wanted to talk more, but the others had already reached the inn, so they had to get going. Hopefully what they'd done would be enough.

-=-=-

The wiry-bearded pig behind the inn counter pointed a trotter up the stairs, signaling Bowser, Junior, and Agoston where to go. “By happenstance, thy quarry just returned, mayhap to fetch something. Seeketh her up there, though be careful. Hail, sir dragon,” he waved down Bowser in particular. “Thy bulky frame would crack mine pig-shaped corridors. Kindly detain thyself outdoors, sirrah.” By some miracle, the pig inn seemed to be much bigger on the inside than the outside, but it still wasn't big enough for Bowser. His kid, however, could follow the Centurion up the stairs and to a door left open by a guest planning quick egress.

Inside, they could see a lean woman in blue garb, leather gear, and golden armor. A dependable crossbow hung at her hip, but with her back to the door her face could not be seen. She'd thrown open the shuttered window, and as her guests watched, a huge eagle swooped down to land on her outstretched arm. The huntress stroked his feathered head before turning to face the newcomers along with her bird. Together, they stared the heroes down. “What do you want?”

Pelagic Lake

Location: Land of Adventure
@Gentlemanvaultboy @Stern Algorithm @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @TruthHurts22

Even as the killer pelagics threatened to bleed Gran dry, the heroic resolve of his allies galvanized them into action. Linkle, Geralt, and Euden attacked with renewed strength and determination, and the tide swiftly started to turn. The archeress whirled in an acrobatic dance of death, wheeling about from foe to foe in a storm of bolts and blows, her momentum preventing her from staying in any one place long enough to take another thrust or slice. Euden, after pulling his blade free from the scaly corpse Linkle helped to bury it in, backed off to let her take center stage while his flaming sword drove errant pelagics toward her. After a few moments she broke off to circumnavigate the fish mob using the ice, but leaving her allies at the pelagics' mercy was the last thing on her mind. After she circled around, Linkle unleashed a fusillade of bolts that raked through the enemy ranks but left her friends untouched. The wounded monsters could barely see Linkle coming as she then swept in and went off.

Piercing power followed by a wall of flame left turned almost all of the pelagics to ash in a matter of moments. Those who remained met a swift end on Geralt's blade soon after, its silver already wet from cutting them down prior to Linkle's outburst. All of a sudden, no enemies remained. The heroes' combined efforts had prevailed; the pelagics were no more. The last corpses, including that of the guardian, faded into ash to leave fish-faced spirits behind, and everyone could breath easy, from the wounded Gran to the elevated Phoenix.

Euden wiped his blade off on his sleeve, sheathed it, and stooped to help Gran. Everyone could see that the boy needed a healer, but for now all they could do was bind his wounds to cloth to keep the blood in. Meanwhile, the door to the floating house burst open, and from the aperture sashayed a pair of strange-looking clowns. The first had a cheery air, and the second a dour one, but right now both looked shaken yet relieved. “Phew!” Exclaimed the first. “You sure saved our bacon there! We don't have a lot to offer you, but as far as I'm concerned you can cannon ride or fly-by-fowl for free whenever you like!”

His friend nodded gravely. “Yeah, thanks. Really mean it.”

Results!

Party: Linkle, Din, Geralt, Phoenix
Encounter Reward: +5 EXP
Standalone Bonus: Linkle, Din
Standalone Reward: +5 EXP
Loot: 17 pelagic groupers, 1 pelagic guardian

Forest Temple

Location: Land of Adventure
@thedman @Dawnrider

By happy accident, Hat Kid returned to the central chamber with her second painting only a few moments after Michael and Franklin arrived there as well. Any greetings or introductions were made difficult by the fire spirits, however, incessantly mewling for the puzzle-solvers to cast their loot into the flames and end their bizarre existences. Two pairs of retrieved paintings made a full set, so by the time the last bonfire consumed its corresponding painting and the rapturous fire spirits burnt out with grateful cries, the blaze surrounding the central alter died out completely.

The girl trapped inside had at some point awakened, though held captive by the flames and silenced by their roar, she couldn't do anything until now. Any confusion or fear went out the window as she threw herself at her saviors with teary-eyed relief, cramming them all into one big hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you! That was awful! I've been in there for so long!” Seconds passed with the group locked in her embrace, with only her sniffling breaking the silence in the now-dim room. After a little while, however, Tressa released them and stepped back, wiping the last tear from her eye. From the look of her, she hadn't many to spare; the merchant girl looked singed, sooty, very dehydrated, and hungry. Her skin was cracked in some places, and the red in her eyes flickered weakly. Without the others for support, she trembled from the mere effort of standing up. “Can we...can we go?” She asked, confusedly looking around.

Coral Highlands

Location: Land of Adventure
@ProPro @Yankee

The Courier's shotgun shells struck true, inflicting nasty wounds on the head of the Tzitzi-ya-ku, but the beast did not stagger. If the bullets pierced through, they did not inflict the damage one would expect. The monster's razor-sharp talonblades narrowly missed the evading Courier and instead carved through the gun arm of Bastion a split second after it appeared, the hideous sound of rending metal ringing out across the highlands. It was a work of a fleeting moment, but an impossible feat nonetheless to anyone who knew the first thing about materials and force. Metal could not be cut by blades. Yet, the frontmost half of Bastion's SMG arm hit the ground all the same, and the monster followed up with a spinning tail swipe that knocked the omnic on its back to disappear the next moment. Whatever this beast was, its inexplicably consistent attacks and resistance to being staggered suggested that it stood a cut above the average dinosaur.

Still, the blows to its head did seem to disorient the thing. When the Ace Cadet clanged his shield to draw its attention, the Tzitzi-Ya-Ku took the bait. It lunged at him twice, snapping its jaws.

Meanwhile, the wigglers had all sunk into the ground, and watched with slitted eyes for the danger to pass. An offputting odor was on the wind, one of bloodlust and slaughtered meat. To the practiced nose it suggested unrelenting tenacity, hailing from a grotto of carrion and rot.

Nero

Location: Charnal Lane, Dead Zone

As the battle began, Nero noted with approval that his comrades had elected to make the absolute most of the circumstances to whale on the Ent from moment one. Not a moment after his taunt signaled the battle starting, Ratchet lobbed a few proximity mines and Jak pelted the boss with a blue eco barrage. At the same time, Blazermate's sentry and newly-minted Swarm began their assault. The sight of the Medabot using her brand-new arm to control and mutate undead like the demons he fought minutes ago gave Nero pause, but as long as it worked he couldn't complain. Everyone dealt with the Ent's shockwave well enough, either clearing it with a leap, like Banjo and Kazooie, or taking to the sky altogether, like Donnie did as he zoomed upward atop his stalwart disc.

While the monk dug around for some booze to light up, the Ent's hollows went on the offensive, only to fall like wheat to the scythe to Kamek and the sentry's gunfire. For a moment, Ratchet appeared to space out, but the little hollows' axes passed straight through. While they struggled to comprehend what was happening, the real Ratchet appeared behind the Ent, his fearsome new weapon at the ready. The Reaper spat a torrent of hellfire to sear the towering treant's legs, the only part he could reach point-blank. His burning burst charred the wood and began a fire, but instead of spreading across the Ent and turning it into a raging inferno, the blaze stayed fairly confined. When Ratchet rose above the Ent courtesy of Clank, however, he could clearly see the weak spot highlighted by Blazermate: an opening on its upper back, full of red energy. A Reaper burst into that proved far more effective. At the same time, Banjo scaled the monster with his partner's help to rise high enough for a powerful Beak Buster onto the Ent from above. Together the attacks made the Ent mad, and a crackling cry echoed across the plaza.

It thrashed its enormous arms, threatening to annihilate the slow-flying Lombax should one hit. But Jak and Daxter could escape the Ent's range on the former's board, and Donnie hovered far enough above to evade its brutal fury. From a hidden reserve he poured strong liquor onto the boss's head, and after the monk struck a match he dropped the ember to light the Ent on fire.

The inferno, however, did not take. While the alcohol burned readily enough, the Ent did not go up in flames. It smoldered all over as the flame damage ticked away, but it exhibited no particular weakness. Its constitution, it appeared, was not your average wood. Some sort of nonflammable gas permeated it, a thick, heavy hazy. Whatever it was, Nero did not care. He sprinted forward, and when a flailing arm came near enough, he grabbed on with a Wire Bound and flew into the air. The demon hunter sailed through the sky like a kite on a string, only letting go when he reached the apex and could glimpse Blazermate's weak spot. Nero revved the Red Queen, making its motor sing with power, and hurtled downward in a spinning vertical slash. “Double DOWN!”

His blade split the glowing crimson core-wood, and without further ado Nero started slamming his blade onto the target again and again. The inelegant pummeling continued even as a pink must started to bubble up from the wood, and the Ent leaned forward. Nero noticed the change and prepared to jump off, but his sword stuck in the reddish muck. “...What?” Then the Ent convulsed, launching a blast of rotting pink gunge and gas that exploded point-blank. “Gaaaah!” Nero flew from the boss's back and hit the ground hard. He rolled twice, but the rot stayed with him. A furious, wet hacking cough wracked him, and the demon hunter couldn't get up. Meanwhile, the Ent continued to release blast after blast. Each payload shot skyward, arced perfectly, and plummeted straight toward its assailants. Two each flew for Donnie, Ratchet, Jak, Blazermate, and Gene, each sporting a sizable blast radius hefty damage, and full serving of Root Rot.

At the same time, Rot Warts started to emerge from the ground alongside a fresh wave of hollows. These bulbous Root, full of the same infectious miasma weaponized by the Ent, mindlessly rushed the nearest foes with a wheezing balloon-like noise to explode and leave behind a lasting cloud of Root Rot. Anyone inflicted by the infection would no doubt experience the same paralyzing coughing Nero suffered.

After unleashing its volley, the smoldering Ent stood up and lifted its arms for another shockwave.

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

Artemisia

Temporary Camp Outskirts

Every breath was a labor, every step a struggle. One foot at a time, the haggard young woman trudged up the by-now familiar and welcome hill just outside camp, and with a final groan she let herself fall against the tree growing from its crown. Limp, she slid down its smooth surface and into a sitting position, where she lay like a puppet with its strings cut. Silence -save for her breathing- endured for a few moments before a rebellious spirit sparked within her. She mustered up her fury, her indignity, and let it loose. “Guh!” That march. That. March. Never had Artemisia walked so much, so hard, for so long in all her life. Sure, she was fleeing from an invading army that'd be more than happy to put her to the sword if they identified her as a threat, but was dying really that bad compared to all that exercise? The soreness had yet to leave her. And ever since deciding to stick with this army for the time being, putting on the guise as a mage hired for the army, they'd been working her to the bone. Training, chores, training, upkeep, meetings, and more training. Being off the battlefield seemed a fair sight tougher than being on one. At least then she could share her misery with a few poor suckers before biting it. Oh, well. At least they fed her without question, at let her be alone most of the time. Plus, she got some less-conspicuous clothes to wear—a baggy, long-hooded caster's robe in the Empire's colors. When night fell, and the drills ceased for the day, she could finally relax and start prodding people for stories. Already she'd filled a few pages with tantalizing summaries. If there was one thing war was good for, she learned, it was making history. Speaking of, it was about time she jot down a bit more of her own. After making another entry in her journal, Artemisia sighed and set it aside. She felt better already, satisfied even. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't in the best of shape, and those morning drills were making her stronger. Still, as long as she stuck with these Lothians, she grew no closer to her goal, unless by some miracle her target lay among the ranks of soldiers she failed to examine so far. And if he or she did turn up here, what exactly could Artemisia do? Kidnap someone from under an entire army's collective noses? Her best bet in such a case lay in the heat of some battle, during which enough distraction would exist to let her take someone unawares, but if forced to fight she would be obliged to reveal her identity as a Dark Mage. Another sigh escaped her. If only she could turn invisible. Or warp somewhere far away from here. As her thoughts slid to happier places, she started daydreaming of exploring with her father, and grew oblivious to the surrounding world.

__________________________ Status: Fatigued and distant Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets New entry Bone-tired and sore from drilling again. Yet, this situation should not last much longer. Now that the battalions have gathered and made preparations, I hear from my as-of-now compatriots that the commanders will be assigning teams of soldiers to missions in the near future. A little excitement and variety will go a long way toward making this unexpected sojourn bearable. No new individuals have piqued my interest, though I did happen to encounter that long-haired brawler who came to my defense again. Witty and refreshingly humble for a noble scion, if not overly gregarious, I must admit him not-unpleasant company. Yet, among the many faces to bob in and out of my vision on any given day, I can count none as those of friends. Yet my eyes scour them nonetheless, seeking the rosy hue of destiny.

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

Artemisia & Trace Flashback

Time and Place: Bustling inn in the early afternoon, Edinbourgh

Even after sitting down, another hefty silence had settled on the taciturn pair, which continued to weigh upon Trace and Artemisia up until the point her food arrived. The meal was simple, an ear of corn plus a cut of pork, but it ignited a spark in those blue eyes of hers. “Oh, that is delectable,” she remarked after swallowing a big mouthful. “I can assure you, the sort of provisions you receive while in a clinic are best reserved for famine. One can scarcely call it food, though I imagine that’s to be expected. Our patrons were seldom the sort who could afford private care, after all, and ascetics like the Sister must not value food as anything but sustenance.” She cut off another slice of pork and devoured it, though she did take care in her earnestness to not make a spectacle of herself.

The silence had been long and heavy but such silence didn’t bother Trace as much as it might have a more talkative person.  The situation outside and the uncertainty of the situation here at this table both combined to keep his mind rather occupied.  He had eaten not too long before and didn’t have too much of an appetite at present. But, he still ordered bread with butter and cheese as well as a bowl of the anonymous stew on the fire.  It would all be good to eat after a while, even cold. Though, the stew might lose something of its savor. He would be able to simply pack away the bread and cheese for later if he had to.

When the food arrived, the mood at the table changed immediately as Artemisia began talking.  In fact, she talked quite a bit. Trace was beginning to wonder if she was forcing herself since such profuse discourse didn’t seem to fit her very well.  Still, he didn’t know her all that intimately in the first place. All he could do was reply. “The food here is good. It’s popular with the more successful mercenaries.  I’ve heard that some of the merchants and shop owners take their dinners here on occasion as well.”

Trace’s thoroughly uninteresting comments did not seem to provoke a response from Artemisia. Instead, she picked at the remained of her meat, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. “I wonder...what did this pig go through to come here? Could be as simple as sourcing it from a local farm. But it’s salted, so it was preserved and could have come a long way. Did the meat just get shipped off by a swineherd, or was it taken as a tax from some poor downtrodden peasant, perhaps, passed around and redistributed by some Lothian stooge? Maybe part of a shipment recovered -or stolen- from some convoy, or taken as loot from a distant conquest. Or was it wild, hunted in some daring chase by a desperate young hunter, or maybe by a tired old lord looking for a thrill, that he then charitably bequeathed to a local butcher? What made the tax collecter so hard-hearted as to be able to live with such actions? What grand adventures did that elderly noble see in his youth that make him yearn for action in his late years?”

Artemisia looked at Trace for the first time since she’d received her meal. Before now the young woman seemed withdraw, quiet, and even antisocial, but now…’passionate’ described her far better. “Might not seem like it, but there are stories everywhere. Interesting tales even in mundane objects. Where they were, whose they were, what happened to them. People, of course, can tell their own stories.” She let go her utensil and placed both elbows on the table, arms crossed. “It’s all so fascinating, you see. That’s why I hate surface-level small talk.”

Trace listened and watched.  For the first time since they had first exchanged words he seemed to focus on her exclusively.  His gaze became piercing and intelligent. And, he smiled. It was a small smile but a smile none-the-less.  He knew that he was being challenged to reveal more than he had been willing to share. So, the curiosity was mutual.

“There really are stories everywhere, even in small talk.  The merchants who own stores in town come here to eat because the food here is better than there is on their own tables during the lean months.  The owner here sources their foodstuffs from the most reliable sources in the empire. Some of the ingredients come from far away, others from next door.  While the quality isn’t the highest, the supply is always regular and that reliability is a great strength in this business.” Trace took a quiet breath while he continued to examine his dinner partner.  She wanted to know his story. He wanted to know hers. Perhaps a trade then.

“Like most who tell stories, I’m not sure if anyone would want to hear mine.  But, I became a mercenary when I was 12. I joined a group called the Pierced Shield.  They were mostly swordsmen and took a lot of small local jobs around Edinburgh. But, my first job was getting strong enough to fight.  My… limited magic wasn’t something worth their attention. I trained with the spear, hard. I had only one teacher, he was one of the most veteran members of the company.  He was also the only one who knew the lance. He kept me from going on jobs until I was 21.” Trace’s gaze hardened a little before he continued.

“My first job was the last job that the Pierced Shield ever took.  I survived, along with a few other rookies who managed to get away.  Everyone else died.” He took another long breath. “A lot of stories ended that night.  But, like always, others started at the same time.”

This was his initial answer to her challenge, her open desire to get more information out of him.  From here, he simply had to decide whether or not her interest was sufficient to justify telling her the details of that job… and how it went wrong.  He took a bite of his stew but kept his eyes on Artemisia. The stew was good, far better than the typical travel rations he carried.

The mage nodded. “Not bad.” A beat passed before her eyebrows went up. “That is to say, you are not a terrible storyteller. Naturally, I’m sorry to hear that happened. Of course, if that memory is too tragic for you I shall not ask you to elaborate, but I would be interested in the details of that night. I do not have much experience with battle or the mercenary lifestyle, so I cannot imagine what terrible fate must have befallen your company.” She picked up and resumed nibbling at her corn.

Trace’s smile, which had faded away as he spoke, returned.  He had indeed been right. But, she hadn’t decided to trade stories.  At least she was interested. And, there really wasn’t much reason to not tell the story at this point.  So, he swallowed the stew in his mouth and continued.

“That job was one that the whole company was hired for.  Most jobs, dealing with bandits, guard jobs, or bounties only need a few people.  But, Pierced Shield wasn’t a big company so most of the veteran members had to go on every job.  This one was an escort job. We were hired to protect the young son of a low rank noble on his way to some reclusive magic school in the north.  The company stayed in formation with the best of us around the carriage and the other accomplished members in the vanguard. The rookies and less capable members were kept in the rear.  The trip was pretty uneventful for the first day. With dusk coming on, the leader wanted us to make camp for the night and proceed in the morning.” Here, Trace paused and took a bite while he organized his memories.  There was something that was bothering him about what he remembered.

“The young noble got out of the carriage for the first time and insisted that we continue on through the night.  He said that he had to get there without delay. The leader gave in. But, it was odd. That kid was wearing a full cloak in early summer… and his hood was up, hiding his face.  To this day I’ve never seen a noble hide themself like that.” He took another breath. “We proceeded on into the night. It was cloudy and fog began to rise around midnight, just as we were entering a forest.  The ambush was fast… strong. They weren’t bandits. They moved fast and quiet from both flanks. No war cries or shouted orders and their armor was covered in black paint to keep it from shining. Most of them used spears or swords, the rest had bows.  They were armed with just the right weapons to counter us and they knew exactly what they were doing. They began with a volley of flaming arrows that almost all hit the carriage. It was a mass of flames in moments. The little noble managed to get out of the carriage but the enemy had charged in immediately.  He didn’t make it past their lances. Neither did the guards around the carriage.” Trace’s expression was flat but his eyes were grim as he seemed to sink into that scene from the past. Reexamining these memories gave him a bad feeling, like maybe it wasn’t over with that. Assassins don’t like living witnesses. “The elites from the Pierced Shield were attacked by the enemy’s best before they could move to protect the carriage but they only sent a few common lancers to attack the rookies at the rear.  They knew our formation ahead of time. But, they underestimated me. I hadn’t shown anyone my skill before. I wasn’t even sure how good I was then. I remember thinking that it was strange… how slow they moved. I told the other rookies to run, they wouldn’t have been any help anyway. They all used swords and moved slower than the enemy lancers did. They ran quickly enough though...” Trace fell silent for several long moments. It was hard to remember that night, painful, troubling. “I killed the few lancers that they sent and then I fled.  None of the others made it out.” He took a deep breath, pulling himself out of those memories with some effort.

“Reputation is everything for a mercenary.  Without it you can’t make enough coin to feed yourself.  For a soldier, running away when the battle is lost is cowardly.  For a mercenary, it’s how you survive having foolish employers. The Pierced Shield no longer exists and I kept quiet to avoid any lingering trouble.  I’ve survived with small solo jobs since then. This is my first big contract on my own. I was lucky to get it without connections or much of a reputation.  I hope the Prince isn’t as foolish as he is noble… or we’ll all end up dead, not just the mercenaries.”

With that, Trace fell silent and resumed eating.  His stew wasn’t quite as good since it had begun to cool.  Still, it was better to eat it now and wrap up the bread before it hardened, so he did while keeping his ears open.  Surely this mage would have something to say, whether for good or ill.

Artemisia absorbed all Trace had to say in steady silence, moving only to take a drink from her water once in a while. His recollection of that night painted a vivid, even terrifying picture. To come under attack from an unknown, silent foe, vastly more powerful and lethally informed, to understand there was no hope of victory, and to flee while one’s allies were slaughtered by the darkness--it was an almost poetic tragedy. 

She did wonder about some of the details the lancer provided, though. North of here, already a northern part of the continent, meant that this couldn’t have happened too far from Cherno Bog. Could her kinsfolk have had any part in that event…? Maybe. Most operations were kept on a need-to-know basis, so she knew nothing about any such activities. It struck her as stupid for anyone from the Coven to conducting such a large-scale assassination so close to home, but its operatives worked in mysterious ways. If it was the Coven’s work, they must have had a good reason. Making a mental note to ask next time she went home, Artemisia hurried to fill the silence that followed Trace’s story.

“How horrible. My heart goes out to you. I can only pray that His Majesty favors you in the future.” Looking down, she speared the last bit of pork and finished it off. She’d hoped -as mentioned earlier when she suggested that he get lunch with her- that he’d be able to inform her about recent events, but now the results of her inquiry left a dark cloud over the lunch table. In this atmosphere, pressing him for more felt inappropriate.

Trace finished his stew and packed his bread and cheese away as he processed Artemisia’s response.  Sympathy… she was working in a clinic so being able to express sympathy was not unbelievable… but… it was strange.  It felt like she was using it to cover her real thoughts. It didn’t feel like lying though, more like she was using a lesser truth to hide a greater one.  Trace had done the same in the past, when it seemed necessary. Well, he had been sharing in the hope of getting information in return. Even this little nibble on his hook was something to work with.  But, the time it took might prove more expensive than either of them could afford.

“I appreciate the sentiment.”  He said. Clearly, this matter brought him more worry than pain.

He raised his arm to touch the shoulder of a passing serving girl with a hand that held a coin.  “Excuse me. Have you heard anything about refugees or rumors from the regions affected by the war?”  He asked with a pleasant smile that never touched his eyes.

The serving girl seemed inclined to say something rude initially, until she spotted the glint of the coin.  Then she answered that shallow smile with one of her own and apologized for not having heard anything. According to her, the roads had been clear of refugees and there hadn’t been a peep out of anyone who came from that direction.  Pocketing the coin and waving prettily, she swished back into her regular work, occasionally evading the wandering hands of the more thirsty patrons.

Trace’s smile died instantly as soon as the serving girl turned away and his eyes swept across the windows to linger on the door.  “Silence from a battlefront? Only the dead are silent in war.” He muttered. “This city… it’s gonna burn.” He turned his gaze back to Artemisia and spoke more clearly.  “If you want to search for that person, I can take you around some places that aren’t usually open to passers by. This might be the last chance you get to look here.”

The mage gave a nod. “A fine notion. We will proceed shortly. And...I am grateful you told me all that.”

“Don’t mention it.”  Trace said as he stood and paid for the meals.  It was merely a polite phrase but it seemed to be meant seriously as well.  There could be real danger in sharing such stories too casually. Once Artemisia was ready, he led the way.  But, his eyes kept moving the whole time, searching for the threat that he knew was there.

World of Light

Tora & Poppi

Level 5 Tora - (15/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (14/40) EXP
Location: hamlet, the Land of Adventure
Word Count: 599
@DracoLunaris@Stekkmen

A brief but uncomfortable silence ensued following the pigs' questions. Poppi looked and Tora expectantly, but he said nothing, and neither did Agoston. Bowser ultimately rescued them, however, asking for some sort of drink. The question came out of the blue, making Tora wonder. That phrase typically referred to alcohol, but Bowser didn't seem like the sort of person to be aware of something like that. Regardless, the yellow-haired pig brightened up. “Oh! Thine thirst wouldst be well quenched after a visit to mine storefront. No shop in the Hamlet could boast a better inventory.”

Following that exchange, the Koopa's kid let loose his own barrage of questions. Mayor Truffleston considered each one, rubbing his chin with a trotter. “Whilst thy initial idiom escapeth me, I can tell you that this noble Hamlet hath seen but a few days in these verdant fields. Prior, we lived in a country most dreary and unusual. As for our surroundings, thy eyes hath already lain upon the eastern golden expanse we doth attend. To the south lieth a pristine woodland, shrouded in sublime green. Northeast, if mine memory serveth, featureth a fair basin and sweet-smelling pines before the mountains. East of our esteemed Hamlet thou may discover a vast yellow-green steppe, littered with edged red stone. Beware that place, for a terrifying beast stalketh those hills.”

The other male pig seemed more intent on Junior's last question. “So too did other visitors mention a guild of adventuring, a day and a half gone. We hath no relation to any such institution, yet many are our burdens nonetheless. Thou mayest procure a healthy sum of oincs if thou see fit to lend yon trotters to our aid.”

While the antiquated speech gave him a little trouble at first, Tora knew a quest when he heard one. And of course, he wouldn't be a Nopon if his ears didn't perk up when money was involved. “Meh meh, if piggypons have quests then Tora and Poppi can help!”

Poppi crossed her arms. “Masterpon on tight schedule. Need to finish quests that already open before get more.”

“Er, yes, meh,” he admitted, scratching his head with a wingtip. “Plus, we need beat evil bosses soon as possible. But still,” he turned an excited smile to Truffleston and his friends. “What you need done? Maybe Tora and friends can help on way.”

The hairy-eared pig beamed. “Mine heart doth soar to hear it! Our greatest trouble be a loathsome pack of diminutive green savages, encamped northward. A sound pummeling wouldst rid the Hamlet of their menace.”

As much as Tora wanted to get paid, even that sounded like a substantial detour. They needed to find some way to hunt baurun and get back to Lumbridge soon. Plus, even Bowser couldn't lug that cart around everywhere the group went. Poppi noticed this too, and chose to voice her thoughts. “Will consider. However, folks did not answer one Junior question. Does Hamlet have any hunting gear we can use?”

The pigs looked between each other, questioning in low tones. The shopkeeper ended up answering. “I fear not. Pig appetites be great, yet compunctions be few. Yet, there resteth in the inn a person who may be the solution to thy problem, a sharp-eyed lady together with a great eagle.”

“That just what Tora wanted to hear!” the Nopon explained. “Maybe we can ask for help. Thanks very much, piggypons!” With that, he sprinted toward the building indicated by the shopkeeper, and Poppi followed behind. The pig guards watched them go disapprovingly, silently bemoaning their lack of restraint and manners.

Pelagic Lake

Location: Land of Adventure
@Gentlemanvaultboy @Stern Algorithm @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Truthhurts22

Euden gave Din a nod before picking himself up. Now distant from the fighting, he joined Din as they proceeded back along the shoreline toward the others. His eyes lay upon the fierce duel between Geralt and the pelagic guardian the whole time, watching the brute and the Witcher exchange fierce blows. Even with the man's prowess, the unprepared-for threat and the treacherous arena in which they did battle offered a deadly challenge, but an unexpected miracle presented itself. The very fellow who cowardly fled from the fight to scale the clown house decided to turn back and help, and his intervention from above turned the tide in Geralt's favor. A dropped boat and a thrown shoe paved the way for the eldritch monster's defeat. Euden let out a cheer when he saw the thing fall, hideous even in defeat.

Yet, the battle was not yet won. Whether they had yet to notice or just didn't care, the remaining pelagics fought on. Linkle threw herself into the scrap with bombastic energy. She evaded a fishman's stab before using him as a steppingstone to launch skyward. A deluge of bolts sunk into its scaly skin, eliciting an agonized gurgle before it collapsed. The archeress continued to rain bolts until gravity forced her to land, but her momentum never left her. Gran, meanwhile, fought heroically, yet one look at his fighting style suggested that he typically battled alongside a number of allies. Linkle's help -and distraction- prevented him from being overwhelmed, but already he'd taken a few too many slashes and stabs. His blood flowed freely as he desperately continued to struggle, cutting down pelagic after pelagic.

The situation prompted Din to action. Her magic stretched out across the lake's surface, icing it up, and the wind kicked up by her wings spread the chill even further. Euden, already feeling better from his brief rest, could not afford to hesitate. He leaped from the shore onto the ice, taking a slippery shortcut to reach the frontlines faster. The dancer's Gogoat, meanwhile, returned to her. With a little direction it proved itself an invaluable ally, striking fast with brutally effective attacks before retreating out of range. Enraged strength filled Euden as his blazing sword flashed into pelagic scales, but even then a horrible doubt gnawed at the back of his mind. Even if there weren't that many left, unless he and his allies could annihilate the remaining pelagics now, Gran could take his last blow any second now.

Nero

Location: Charnal Lane, Dead Zone

The group could continue to make preparations all day, but Nero knew that at some point it would just be avoiding the coming fight. They needed to get into gear before they started losing steam. With that in mind, he led the way back up the stairs toward the cathedral plaza, and without reservation strode straight through the arch and into the vast, open area.

A few moments' walking brought him in line with the cathedral's double doors and the gnarled wooden behemoth hunched before them. He gave it plenty of room at first, but knew that ultimately he'd be more effective in melee range. The others had plenty of time to get themselves ready, be it reloading their weapons, setting up turrets, commandeering some of the captive undead, or warming up. After a short while he cracked his neck, then his knuckles, and started walking forward. “Alright, you stinking stack of firewood. Let's see what you've got.”

As if in response, a low moan echoed through the plaza. Whatever it was, the monster started to move, each jerking motion giving a great wooden crack. The pink mist surrounding it dried it up as it stretched, untangled, and stood. A dire red light glowed in its recesses, and when it turned to face its challengers, the Ent unleashed a roar that shook the air itself.

Warning! Miniboss discovered!

In response to the roar, small round hollows dug up from underground and ran to the nearest hero, swinging their little weapons. The Ent, meanwhile, slowly raised a leg before smashing it on the ground. A wave of red energy surged toward Nero across the ground. To avoid it he jumped upward, then again off a conjured midair circle, before unleashing a midair Color Up shot. The bullets entered the Ent with a splash of splinters but no resistance, although they barely seemed to do anything. As he landed, Nero sighed. Even without much evasive or defensive ability, this would be a tough hunk of wood to whittle down.

The Ent lifted its gigantic arms and slammed them down, unleashing a limited-range but omnidirectional wave that rattled the entire plaza.