Lugubrious

Overlord: Momento Mori

It'd be fine if I posted again this cycle, right?

Overlord: Momento Mori

Also y'all are lucky. Now you get a cute fox girl as a priest, instead of...
THE GOOD TWO FISTED HAYMAKER OF THE LORD

@The Irish Tree

Hey, that guy looks cool. Maybe he can be another NPC in service to the high priest.

World of Light

@xoxKieroBombxox, you've been somewhat quiet lately. You able to post this round?

World of Light

Alright, here's a two-pronged update:

@Archmage MC @ProPro @Dawnrider @Genon @xoxKieroBombxox
First off, I realize I may have left Dead Zone in a someone tough spot, so here's a little extra information. With the realization that there's a haunting in the police station, an investigation is now available to find out clues related to the haunting and figure out how to get it gone. Your characters are free to roam the police station using a map given by Captain Howard:

RCPD Interior

The survivors have fortified the Main Hall, the East and West Offices, the Library, and the Press Room. The East Office, with its windows facing the front of the station, is the primary defensive center that has what little equipment that remains, while the Press Room and Library are the civilian safe rooms. Additional fortified defensive positions include the Lounge, Watchman's Room, and Reception. The second floor's east side is more or less safe but not under lockdown, with the doors under scrutiny. The Garage and Basement are overrun, so the elevator is deactivated and the Watchman's Room is heavily fortified. The Observation Room is a makeshift treatment center for the wounded, while the presumed or confirmed to be infected are kept in the Art Room.

Where you go is up to you, including nowhere if interacting with NPCs is your prerogative, and I'll fill you in on what you find when you get where you're going. For the most part, the hallways are empty, but who knows what's in the various rooms? You might even run into the specter itself...

Second, for everyone, I have the next holiday event to share with you all. Here you go.

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 test their resolve and see if they'll give in, 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 = 2 * n ; 1000-2000 words = 4 * n ; 3000+ words = 7 * n
Keep track of your rewards. Your participating character will gain all stockpiled event EXP following his or her next long rest.

Current Event: Christmas
Deadline: December 25th, end of day
Prompt: To give. Master Hand is presenting your character with a sort of test: someone, from some world, badly needs something only your character can give. It could be a treasured keepsake, a vital service, or something within your character him- or herself. Can your character look within and confront the pain of parting with it, or the pain of leaving a wish unfulfilled?

World of Light

Ancestral Farmstead

Level 5 Tora - (32/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (30/40) EXP
Tora Stress: 70/100 and Poppi Stress: 10/100
Location: the Land of Adventure
Word Count: 1121

With Bowser wounded by a slimy explosion, his human comrades took up his mantle. The Ace Cadet rushed in first, trying to get its attention. After smashing a farmhand into crystalline dust, the Brachydios complied, aiming a swipe at the monster hunter to get him off its flank. It missed, but scattered a few globules of slime on the ground. With the Cadet momentarily warded off, it glanced at Geralt emerging from a tussle with a couple farmhands, but its red-haired assailant demanded its attention. A bomb exploded in its face, provoking an enraged snarl and the full focus of the beast. It took a stop toward the Cadet and rammed its head downward, requiring a well-timed dodge to evade, and giving Geralt the opening he needed to slice into a leg.

His silver sword cut through the scale and flesh with much less resistance than he might have expected, but somehow it didn't seem to incur loss of muscular functionality. Displaying a remarkable short temper, the Brachydios turned to face him, backed up a touch, and charged while swinging his arms into the ground over and over. Having circled around to the other side, Euden sprinted in as its charge tailed off to stab at its underside. With every thrust his sword gave off a spurt of flame, and some sort of power flowed into Euden. The Brachydios, unable to effectively attack beneath it, peeled off to one side while swinging its tail. Euden raised his shield in time to intercept the scaly club, which rattled him and slid him backward but didn't cause any real injury.

As it readied itself, he shouted, “this guy just blindly goes after whoever attacks it!” It thundered toward him a moment later, and after a heart-pounding moment he threw himself to the side, evading its headbutt. The experience brought him close enough to its face to see its eyes, and they glowed with fury. “The crystals might be driving it into a frenzy!” A couple swings to its leg, then a hasty retreat. Hit-and-run tactics were serving the heroes well so far; trying to take it on directly, as proved by Bowser, was foolhardy. Euden, however, was too intent on another strategy to make note of it for the others. Keeping an eye on the beast, he said, “If I can keep landing hits, I can shapeshift and deal some serious damage!” Still intent on bashing Euden, the Brachydios licked its arms and came about again.

---

As much as its fleshy protuberance evoked the image of a leech, attaching itself to Tora to drain his vital fluids, the Thing from the Stars did not prolong the bite. Instead it withdrew its ignoble maw almost as fast as it had been projected, leaving its rotund challenger with a two-pronged parting gift: a fiendish blight and a rattled psyche. It was out for just a moment, but in those precious seconds Tora's allies, driven to act by opportunity or revenge, made their move.

From above, Bowser Jr swooped down in his clown car with Kamek giving support. A fusillade of arrows from Linkle sunk into the Thing as he drew near, barely sticking in its surface. In the child's hand was a fire axe, gleaming with the color of madness, and in the pivotal moment before Junior struck his sorcerous friend enlarged the weapon with a colorful hex. Its huge edge slammed into the monster's body, too unwieldy to be swung with any precision, only for the handle to splinter and the head to barely sink in before falling to the ground. Whatever this bizarre shimmer was, it either signified or conferred superior protections, reducing incoming damage by a whopping approximate four-fifths.

Junior's companions, already on the attack, didn't have the time to process this. At the urging of Linkle while she ran around blowing up the crystalline aberrations, Agoston found his vigor and renewed his assault. Before he got to his target, a sniper round struck the vomitous being's back, knocking a few handfuls of crystal shards and a spray of meat to the ground. By the time he reached the Thing's head, its supposed weak point had already mostly receded, the leftover protruding flesh hanging limply below its skull. The Centurion's formidable overhead chop fell upon its head instead, cutting a mediocre furrow into its wretched flesh and slicing into part of the tube. Barely a second later, Franklin's flame-wreathed machete flew in from behind the warrior, clipping his helmet, and lodged in the face of the Thing from the Stars.

Next, Hat Kid arrived on the scene. Having left the group of farmhands in her dust with the help of her teammates' earlier efforts and an inexplicable azure beam from her umbrella, she got Linkle's help to team jump right into the action. She soared toward the monstrosity, changing hats as she did, and once in range let loose a short-range burst of earth energy into the Thing's head. When the flames cleared the next moment, she found that it had barely moved, and so used its noggin as a springboard to fly to safety. After her stylish landing, she could see along with the others that the overall punishment dealt to the Thing was substantial despite its protections; another round like that and it would surely give up the ghost. However, all the attacks to its head achieved no better results than any strikes elsewhere.

But there wasn't time to wonder or plan. The Thing from the Stars spasmed once more, and the alien saturation bubbled forth in arcane bolts. Mind-searing lightning swept through the heroes' ranks, seeking a place to belong, frisking their brains and burning their skin before departing skyward.

Grounded heroes take 15 stress damage. Airborne heroes take 25

Then the menace shuffled forward, the damaged head not even facing its foes. It lurched forward, a limb like a beast cadaver retching crystal swinging around to attack in a vicious Vorpal Strike aimed at its enemies in melee range. The great crystal spike struck a glancing blow to Centurion and Hat Kid, who were blocking and retreating respectively, but it hit Junior full-force. His eyes filled with stars, blindingly bright and madly dancing, as he reeled from the critical hit. Then, leering, the nightmare raised its limb to strike again.

Centurion and Hat Kid take 15 Stress damage. Bowser Jr takes 35. Everyone else takes 10

The sight of his young friend reeling from pain and the gnawing of madness reached Tora through his daze. “Junior!” Unbidden, Poppi sprang forward, her eyes grim. She seized a Mech Arm as she jetted by, flying forward to punch the Thing in the big limb's bicep, which housed its arm-beast's spine. Stiff as the flesh was, she felt enough give to grit her teeth and slam down on it. Then, like Hat Kid before her, she pushed off it with her legs and hovered backward to barrage it with a missile salvo. One after another the missiles exploded against the malignity's crystallized hide, but so focused was Poppi that she could not move out of the way of its haymaker in time. Like a gigantic club the side of the spike slammed into her torso, and Poppi shot backward into a nearby farmhouse. She crashed through the wood above the roof and disappeared into a dusty darkness.

Everyone takes 10 Stress damage

Tora screamed. He looked on the verge of collapsing. There were husks lurking in every direction, he was weak from pain and poison, and his friends were being hurt. “Not...not happening!” He knew what he needed to do, but his nerves were shot. Shaking, he took off at a haphazard run for the farmhouse, beating off any farmhands in his way as he struggled to make his way to his partner. In his singlemindedness, he did not see the unusual husk floating a couple dozen yards away, the glow within already mounting to a fever pitch. Just as he reached the farmhouse, the crystalline cyst burst open, and the light bent.

The sky around the farmstead changed, filling with color that swallowed the night. In a mere moment the darkness was gone, and in every direction around the hilltop extended an infinite void of beautiful, haunting, ever-shifting green. It seemed as though the earth itself had disappeared, trapping the hilltop farmstead in an alien dimension beyond space and time.

For a moment Tora was overcome with awe, but only a moment. He was not broken yet. The green cosmos stretching out before him was dreadful, but the thought of losing Poppi was worse. With the new light, he could see inside the dilapidated farmhouse quite clearly, and after spotting Poppi hurried to where he lay. Miraculously, she didn't seem to be in critical condition—in fact, her ether furnace was operating unusually well. They shared a glance, realizing that both were still alive, and without a word embraced one another tight. Tora squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, and Poppi squeezed harder. “Thank Architect,” the Nopon mumbled, eyes screwed shut. His companion stroked his head, and relief filled them both.

Tora and Poppi relieve 20 Stress damage

A moment later, a crash from outside stirred them both into action, and after re-arming the pair rushed outside to rejoin the fight.

World of Light

Forgot to add it to the other post, so I'll need to double up, but I wanted to check on you, @Majoras End. How's the sheet coming?

World of Light

It's been a few days, so here are the results for the Thanksgiving event.

@Gentlemanvaultboy, yours is a very ambitious work capturing an alternate reality from the standpoint of everyone still under Galeem's influence as an idyllic adventure. The length to which you went to set up the other player characters and entities like the Council of Princesses in the world is very impressive, as is the parallel retelling of a fight against a Kirby-like entity from the point of view of the heroes. Your 35 EXP is well earned.

@Yankee, while your story is not quite as ambitious, it is highly focused and cohesive, giving a pleasant account of the Ace Cadet's experience that is convincing, tidy, and charming. I had to rely on memory for your level, since your sheet isn't quite up to date, so correct me if I'm wrong for awarding you 8 EXP.

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, your piece with Geralt is highly informative when it comes to your character, his past, and his connections. The extra insight makes it expertly grounded in its source material, and it is written very well, both when it comes to characterization and the dealing with realization of the illusion and Geralt's interaction with Master Hand. 12 EXP is yours.

@Genon, your offering is abridged, but it still manages to provide a solid glimpse into what a comfortable experience for Donnie in his homeworld would look like. 8 EXP for your efforts.

Overlord: Momento Mori

While not ecstatic to be confined to a kneeling position after just standing up from one held for some time, Graft could see well enough to make note of each personage as he or she arrived. Chunnitrixx, who arrived before him and set up a rather impertinent perimeter around Lord Rodias, received no acknowledgment. Unlike a certain hug-happy deep one, that flibbertigibbet boasted no redeeming personal qualities, particularly her inclination to wantonly attack anyone who entered her domain. Of course, her nature was hardly her fault, but Graft did not often find himself burdened with sympathy for lost causes no matter their reasons. His concern for her boiled down to one question: whether or not she shot him. As one might expect, she didn't dare.

In comparison, the other early arrivals elicited less of a response from Graft. Affected as she was by her more whimsical creator's eccentricities, Mamoru constituted a reliable individual who could do her job well without causing problems for others—a low bar to hurdle, admittedly, but there it was. As far as Graft could tell, the Bandersnatch Lords established no grand designs for the creation and organization of their subordinates, leaving both cohesion and competence entirely up to the individual. Zouyu earned himself no more than one glance. As a gardener, with the sole responsibility of maintaining plants, he ranked about equal with that skeleton butler from earlier in Graft's estimation. Holding him to a high standard, the industrialist knew, was unfair. Zouyu was a child, and an animal. He at least could enjoy tempered expectations.

The wan face of Kaldorna, at least, was a welcome sight to the businessman. When she glanced his way, Graft made sure to grace her with a respectful inclination of the head. Both he and she plied separate trades, yet despite the difference in their lines of work they came remarkably close to being kindred spirits. Few others in the guild, outside of obsessive mania or sadistic psychopathy, exhibited such a genuine enthusiasm for their professions, if Graft did say so himself. Vague memories hummed in the back of his mind, assuring him that their previous collaborations invariably resulted in excellence.

After her came the warlords, Gromgard and Vae Dhayer, valued customers if not warm compatriots. The superficial similarities between running a company and an army might lead one to believe some sort of accord would exist between they and him, but they were ever cold to a less-than-professional upsell. Kath Erine was a name that carried a lot of weight with Graft, however, and he made sure to acknowledge her arrival. Helpful and too reserved to be dismissive, she managed to be as agreeable as one could hope for around these parts. Salem, meanwhile, remained at a distance from Graft despite the ongoing arrangement between their respective Chapters. An ephemeral whisper of some kind of gulf between their creators lent credence to the idea that the two would never see eyes-to-eye, though Graft personally didn't mind trying as long as the kid behaved himself.

Last of all, the fox and the fish. Quirky but powerful, especially Light, they performed their assigned roles well and didn't cause as much trouble as some. While Graft did not harbor any hatred for Light, he fully intended to treat her to a point-blank Speaker the next time she felt the need to embrace him. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. The axiomatic pragmatism of Brushen Penn stuck with him most acutely.

With everyone gathered, Rodias took action. He brought up a large meeting table and invited everyone over. Grateful to bring his kneeling to an end, Graft rose and made his way to the table, where he seated himself comfortably. If anything, he would have guessed that his invitation to the Final Chapter would culminate in a display of loyalty or an issuing of commands, but here he was being allowed to sit with a Bandersnatch Lord on near equal footing. Remarkable. He questioned if it was proper for him to accept the offer, even going so far as to consider it being a test, but refusing such an offer carried its own unacceptable connotations.

Wasting no time, Lord Rodias got straight to the primary issue, and a startling one at that: Chateau Gothika no longer existed where it always had. A little rattled, Graft raced to ponder the implications. What could have done this? And what did it mean for business? Before he could come to any conclusions, his master dropped another bomb. No Sable Lords beside him remained.

Graft placed his elbow on the table, resting his head on it with a stunned expression. What did that mean? Where did they go? Could they still return? His mind lit up with the image of Penn's face, the starry eyes full of genius. Would he ever see her again? Rodias didn't give him much time to think about it, since after a moment of drawing, he continued. There were people in proximity to the guild, humans. That, at least, didn't trouble Graft; just one of the many people assembled here could turn an entire town to a stain if need be, so he didn't see the problem. Neither did Zouyu, as his question made clear, which instantly made Graft think twice. He shouldn't be seeing things on the same level as that beast.

Immediately Rodias went and corrected the weretiger, leaving the industrialist grateful he didn't say anything. “So, until we know the terms of engagement in this new place, and the forces at work, we must step lightly. A prudent approach.” Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer--another of Penn's idioms. It occurred to Graft that he should write a short book codifying them. Surely the wisdom of his creator would sell well. On second thought...did anyone else deserve to have it? One couldn't just commodify all of one's assets. Like a secret recipe, some things needed to be kept hidden.

For a moment Graft didn't even process what Rodias said next, despite looking straight at him as he walked over to a window. I apologize. It now occurs to me that I'm acting in charge without listening to you all first....I am not your ruler. Only after running over it in his head did the businessman recognize the oddity of that statement. As a Sable Lord, a creator, one of the supreme race who existed in an unfathomable echelon over all created beings, flitting in and out of higher planes and speaking in strange tongues, Rodias stood above everyone else here. His supremacy was both natural and assumed, unquestionable. Graft regarded him and his fellows as the Board, placing them in equal standing to his own creator, an all-powerful force to which he was beholden. And yet he spoke as if it was otherwise. Confused, Graft stared at Rodias as he turned, and bent his knee.

For a few seconds, he was aghast, only barely managing to keep his jaw from dropping. He struggled to explain it, and found him looking within himself. He knew what it took to be a good boss, and an effective boss. Could this be some sort of ploy to inspire loyalty by seemingly debasing himself? If so, why did he feel the need to rely on anything but his near-divine status as a Sable Lord to do so? Or this could be a test, a predator pretending to expose his neck to bait a foolish usurper's lunge. But no...it was wildly out of place for Graft to try to quantify a supreme one by worldly standards. Like a wolf trying to understand a falling star, or a goblin throwing stones at the moon, it was beyond futile. Any questioning should be reserved for himself, alone, far from here. He watched Ashara approach and dedicate to him her loyalty in a fittingly flowering manner. Whatever his innermost thoughts, he too would need to take Rodias at full face value.

Graft stood from the table, cane in one hand, and placed the other across his chest. Bowing, he declared, “Truly, you are not just a Board member, but the very pinnacle of CEOs. The Factory and I are at your disposal, Sir.”

Overlord: Momento Mori

Unfortunately we can't have additional characters or submit ideas for them.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Looks like that's everyone. I can hardly wait to see what happens next.