Lugubrious

Overlord: Momento Mori

More chars, neat. I suppose I should make a sheet for Papillary, then.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Just a question about Graft's Direct Link-thing - is there any sort of limit or restriction to it? Because it seems to function like a /whisper or /message command, but if you look at Maruyama-Overlord, Message Scrolls (which were finite and consumed on use) were used for this purpose... Of course, characters with spellcasting classes, like Ainz, seemed to be able to send mental messages without said scrolls, so I'm just curious if its something along those lines, or an actual skill/ability with some kind of limit? :o

@Xaltwind

In his sheet's skill section, I have it outlined as such: "a special Commander skill that allows Graft to initiate a two-way auditory flow with any ally over any range, barring interference. He can open multiple at once, but each imposes a constant albeit small drain of MP." There are a couple limiting factors to it, like it targets having to be allies specifically, but range isn't one of them. I would have thought that that ability of Ainz was a skill or ability like this.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Instead of anything remotely helpful, or tactful for that matter, Salem started telling Graft how to do his job. That soured the director's good mood “You must not know a great deal about business,” he told Salem. “Maximizing benefit to myself while minimizing cost is its very quintessence.” When Salem suggested blackmail, he crossed a line that one should not cross with Vitaphagas Graft without a willingness to deal with the consequences. Of course, the doll assured him of a lack of sincerity, although Graft doubted the kid ever got serious about anything in the first place. Salem would do whatever it felt like, without regard for things like agreements and allegiance, based on capricious feelings and wants. No doubt the doll entertained delusions of being a puppet master, toying with those around him.

Graft stepped away from the Nightgaunt and raised a hardened nanoflesh claw for emphasis as he began to speak. He found himself cut off, however, by Light. He treated her to an irritated look as she requested more stuff before giving the first real suggestion, which seemed to Graft to be worth what he was paying for it. The deep one then said something else so wholly out of left field that he didn't for a time understand what she meant in the slightest. A sharp mind enjoyed residence in that skull of his, however, and it raced to connect the thoughts. When he realized what Light was saying a few seconds later he gave a heavy, crackling sigh, then a helpless laugh. “Forget your aura,” he chuckled, “Your thought process alone could drive men to insanity. Perhaps I can interest you in a reasonably-priced seminar on biology sometime.”

His humor dried up as he turned his attention to Salem. He knew it wad partially Light's pressure that egged him to stick it to the impertinent mannequin, but he figured the little snot could use a dressing-down anyway. Lenses swapped in over his eyes that gave off a flickering spark, and he spoke in an icy voice. “As for you, if you do not value my cooperation, we can always cut off the production agreement feeding that trash heap you use as a playpen. I wouldn't mind repossessing everything of the Factory's that's in there, either.” As he spoke Graft walked closer, moving without suddenness or malice, until he was close enough to casually pluck the hat off Salem's head. He turned it over in his hands as he continued. “The contract benefits me only with its dissolution, you see. I had thought I was doing you a big favor by keeping it, but if that's not the case, why bother?”

Abruptly Graft put the hat on, switching it for his own beret, then summoned a nanoflesh grenade in his other hand. Peering at its somewhat-reflective surface, he admired himself for a moment before shaking his head. “Wrong color,” he murmured, as an aside. When he took it off he slipped the grenade inside, and a second later it burst in a spray of fibrous, technoorganic meat and rank, mechanical odor. It infested the hat completely, changing its texture to hard and rubbery and its color to a greenish-gray. Graft held it up to the light for a quick examination, found it to his satisfaction, and placed it back on Salem's head. A less-than-gentle pat smushed it down. “In the business world, there are spiders, and there are flies. I pride myself on treating my allies well. But only my allies. Are we clear?”

He deactivated his lenses and stepped away. “Now then. Shortly I'm going to begin R&D. It will include framework for the dolls and some traps that might suit the vault. If you want to keep watching, the first half hour's free, but I will charge by the quarter-hour after that. I imagine you two have duties to attend to anyway. Before that, however...”

With a flourish Graft turned to Papillary. “Please take Miss Tabula to the Production Center. Manufacture a handful of Guards as weak as we can make them, and incite Tabula to fight them. Before anything else, we must determine if she is capable of gaining XP.” Turning to the Nightgaunt, he said, “Hear that? Your name is Tabula. Say it.”

A Forced Order. One of a Commander's skills, it could extract obedience from weaker underlings, even for things they could normally not do themselves. The woman's meager muscles tensed beneath her gray skin. “Name is Tabula,” she repeated, her voice accented. Were a Sable Lord here, he or she might have identified it as Welsh.

Graft inclined his head. Curious. “Speak when I speak to you. Listen to others and learn how to talk yourself. My name is Vitaphagas Graft. As of today, I am your boss.”

“Boss,” the Nightgaunt repeated. “Graft am boss.”

“'Is' boss,” the director corrected. “You might say 'Graft is the boss.' But you can think of me as...an older brother, perhaps. Our creator...our 'mother', one could say, is the same. Lady Brushen Penn, the Starlight.” He leaned on his cane, his attention elsewhere. “Cooperate with Papillary to gain experience. Yes?”

The woman nodded. “Yes.”

She and Papillary left soon after, and Graft bent to his work. All of his ideas from earlier came flooding back, and he began conceptualizing, researching, and developing as fast as his faculties could take him.

The hours of the night seemed to pass by in a blur. Graft never took a moment's rest, constantly putting things together, testing them, tinkering with designs, and requesting more materials delivered. One idea, that of replacing his static deployables with ones attached to living biotech drones, he deemed too revolutionary to sink his teeth into just yet, but just about everything else had at least seen some progress. A few projects stood out above the others. He'd managed to put together working prototypes for Adrenaline and Melatonin Shells, recycling various body parts into mollusk-like creatures that could be thrown down and trusted to fire chemical-rich spikes into targets to amp them up or put them under. An electromagnetic shielding array was successfully stopping light blows and thrown objects, but would need a lot of improvement to see battlefield use. The basis for a long-range terrain imager lay assembled on his table. And yet he'd barely scratched the surface. So much to do, so little time. Fatigue and hunger were starting to nibble him, too.

Of course, he had yet to get started on Rodias' order. By now, however, a privileged few would surely be able to give him the information he needed to begin. Graft pictured in his mind his enigmatic, reserved acquaintance and coworker, and after a moment created an Open Line to Kath Erine.

“Hello. Graft here,” he spoke quietly, in case Kath was somewhere where people might hear. “Doing something for Rodias. I have a question for you.” If she needed, she could get somewhere more private before replying.

World of Light

Change of plan. I'm posting for the Dead Zone people who aren't going up against the Preta now, to set the tone for what everyone is doing or can do.

World of Light

V

@Majoras End @Hokagae

In quick succession the four teams departed. Nero, Donnie, and Ms. Fortune went to hunt down and banish the Preta, while Jak and Daxter joined Eddie and Tess going east to round up civilians. Ghalt opted to throw wide the door to the west office and call it denizens in. Kai and a roughed-up but still-determined Leon led the way up the stairs toward the hall prefacing the fortified safe room where the youngest and most vulnerable of the survivors had been stashed. Ukyo and the Black Mage remained with Ghalt, Jill, and the Captain to keep an eye on everyone in the main hall, along with the newly-returned Joker. If the killer was hiding among civilians, no shortage of precaution could be taken. The rumble of thunder rolled down from the sky, shortly followed by the patter of raindrops on the roof.

With all thoughts on spirits and psychopaths, nobody was prepared when the front door flew open to admit nothing less than a terrifying reaper. V's eyes snapped to the intruder, and Griffon perked up. Bearing gaunt greenish skin over lean muscle and molten orange eyes glowing in a mask of bone, the ghoulish invader carried twin scythes by his side and a cold, inhuman bearing. Instantly the survivors trained a dozen weapons on him, even as the stranger stood still to demand their leader. X-baton in hand and wearing a grim expression, Howard stepped forward. “I'm the one in charge, but if you thin..!”

A collective gasp went up as someone stepped out from behind Death. From tooth to toe, there was no mistaking it. “Louis?” Howard murmured. “But...Blazermate said you died.”

Louis closed the door behind him and shook his head. “Not really. You see, I am a Revenent. A corpse stimulated into reanimation by a BOR parasite in my heart.” His clinical tone cut through the others' amazement, encouraging them to regard this knowledge as nothing special. Before long, a couple were nodding as if what he said made total sense. They'd seen weirder, after all. “When about to die, I disperse and regenerate at the mistle I rested at last. It so happened to be in the basement laundromat across the street.”

V closed his eyes, the hint of a wry smile on his face. “'A dead body revenges not injuries,' hm?”

“Well, thank God you're okay,” Howard exulted. “That means as far as we know, this killer has no real casualties. And...it's good to have you back, son.” In a more peaceful situation the Police Captain might have walked forward a couple yards to clap Louis on the shoulder, but instead he took another look at Death. Throughout the commotion the Horseman hadn't done anything aggressive, or even suspect. “Friend of yours?” he asked, curious, before offering an explanation. “There is, somewhere. Teleports, freezes things with his camera, has a knife.” His eyes fell on the teleporter constructed by Blazermate. An inert metal device, promising safety somewhere far from here, if only it worked. “But we're getting out of here soon. Right now, some folks're on their way upstairs to deal with the ghost that's trapping us here. In fact, they could probably use another person or two.” Joker, the only one present who could be spared aside from the new arrivals, received a couple looks. “But if you want to find the killer, be my guest. There's this furry yellow guy, Ratchet, who went with his medic to find him. You could catch 'em if you hurry.”

---

A minute passed in relative quiet. Rain continued to fall, drumming steadily. Survivors and present fighters conversed in low tones, with some distribution of supplies going on. To prepare for evacuation the last of the stockpile in the east office had been brought to the main hall. At first nobody noticed something different, but gradually the sounds of shuffling, thumping, and rattling became too loud to miss. The crowd fell silent, straining to hear, and when familiarity rang within that noise a jolt of cold terror lanced throughout the room. Maybe it was the dead quiet, but the rain seemed to fall harder. Outside, a flash of lightning. Taking a deep breath, V moved toward the main door and peered through the keyhole.

Outside the wind whistled through the wrought-iron fence, but he could see only the bulbous, haunting dark. Its nebulous contours, touched with a sort of bluish distortion -from the moon, maybe- contorted into every ghoulish visages imaginable, playing devious tricks on the eye. “Whew,” breathed Griffon, looking out through a crack between two of the boards on the door's window. “Nothin' but the heebie jeebies, huh V?” Then V blinked twice, refocused, squinted, and found that he didn't need to imagine.

There were hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Zombies, demons, and things still worse. V's heart beat wildly, and his breath came ragged through clenched teeth, but after a moment he saw they weren't moving.

“They'll keep for a short time,” came a low, exotic voice from the other side of the door, so faint that V wondered if he invented it. “See that you use it well.”

The advice shocked V into activity, and he staggered backward from the door, fighting to keep himself upright with his cane. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouted his familiar. “Easy there, champ! What, you see something?”

The poet rounded on the assembled survivors. Assuming the voice -if it existed- belonged to an ally, he concentrated on the bigger picture. “Stay. QUIET,” he told them, looking around while the command lingered to make sure there would be no panic. “A horde. A gigantic one. It's holding still for now, but not for long.” Tapping his cane, he summoned Shadow to join him. The survivors, having already more or less known, erupted into action, some preparing and some panicking, and some just trying to keep the whole situation under control. This wasn't the first time the station had been attacked, but without some sort of miracle, it would surely be the last.

World of Light

@Lugubrious

Sure!

@Majoras End

Nice. I happen to know that @ProPro is working on his next post, so once that's out, I'll put up an interrim update for you, him, and Hokagae.

World of Light

It's ghost-removal time, and a little cooperation is necessary to see the Preta off. If you like, @Majoras End, Joker could get a quick briefing from Howard before running after the others to the Library in order to help banish the ghost. Maybe the same briefing Howard gives Death when he arrives. You down?

World of Light

Ancestral Farmstead

Level 6 Tora - (2/60) EXP (level up!) and Level 5 Poppi - (10/50) EXP (level up!)
Tora Stress: 95/100 and Poppi Stress: 35/100
Location: the Land of Adventure
Word Count: 858

With the end of the bizarre battle in sight, others soon joined Peach and Poppi in finishing the Brachydios off. Euden, in his draconic form, held down the monster long enough for the Courier, Geralt, and even a plucky Hat Kid to do their work. Then, with his shapeshifting time up, Euden got out of the way and left the Brachydios to his friends' mercy. After growing to enormous size thanks to one of Kamek's hexes, 6 bashed its head again and again with a giant pickaxe, with such ferocity that he eventually snapped the shaft of his weapon into pieces. Meanwhile, Geralt burned away the meager scales that feebly sought to protect the beast's belly before carving it up, making a brutal mess of the Brachydios' soft parts. Finally, the child -having sufficiently recovering from her stress- grabbed Bowser's hat as she prepared to deliver a coup de grace. If any possibility of the monster still being alive remained, it was squashed for good as Hat Kid bashed it with a couple punches from her protector's well-armed top hat, sprang off it on the return, and then donned her Fatal Fury hat to end with an exuberant bang.

The blow sank into the monster's hide as though it were butter, hastening its reduction to ash. In a matter of moments the once-mighty Brachydios went from a sad carcass to dust on the wind, with only a scant few seconds available for any prospective carvers to do their work. In the middle of the ensuing pile, however, it left its spirit, containing within an image of the monster still blazing with rage and pride.

Tora watched the whole thing unfold, feeling a good bit better after receiving a strong potion from the Ace Cadet. While he didn't say much, the look of relief and gratitude on his face spoke loud enough. He stared at Linkle freeing Geralt, and shortly after, the Courier using his ridiculous new hat to spread the effects of his medication across the whole group. Though confused as to how exactly that worked, Tora did not care to look that gift horse in the mouth. When Poppi wearily trudged back over to him the Nopon could clap his wing on her back in adulation. “Hooray! Horrible fight is finally over!”

Above the battlefield, the splendorous sky had already begun to fragment, that marvelous golden void returning to the distant epochs and planes from which it had been dreamt. Upon the fatigued, wounded heroes now shone a silver moon and twinkling stars, comforting in their stillness and normality. They illuminated a blighted farmstead overlooking a great step, and miles away flickered the lights of the Hamlet and Lumbridge. Around the battlefield, the heroes pieced themselves together, trying to shake off the stress that had settled over them like coats of candlewax. No fatalities, the Nopon realized, manifesting a joyful smile. Tora broke out into a spinning, bouncing dance around his gathered friends, cheering for a job well done. Quite unable to restrain herself, Poppi joined in, doing a sort of jig with her hands on her hips. They danced without any care for an onlooker's judgment, since after getting a peek at true madness anyone present would be hard-pressed to see such a thing as anything more than blowing off steam, or wholehearted celebration. The battle, after all, was won.

Results!

Party: Yankee's Ace Cadet, DracoLunaris' Bowser, Bowser Jr, & Kamek, Stekkman's Centurion, ProPro's Courier 6, MULTI__MEDIA_MAN's Geralt, Dawnrider's Hat Kid, Gentlemanvaultboy's Linkle, thedman's Michael & Franklin, Tora & Poppi
Encounter Reward: 13 EXP
Never Miss a Beat Bonus: Linkle, Geralt, Courier 6, Bowser, Bowser Jr, and Kamek
Never Miss a Beat Reward: 3 EXP
This encounter's bonus went to those who posted every round. Great work!

Spirits Available: 24x Farmhands, 4x Foremen, 4x Scarecrows, 2x Sleeper's Dream, 1x Plow Horse, 1x Thing from the Stars, 1x Brachydios

A short time later, Tora rolled onto his back, breathing heavily but still grinning. He lay there in the dust of trampled fossils and stared up at the stars, so familiar and welcome. Now that the adrenaline had run dry, every movement took a concerted effort. He felt ready to fall asleep there and then. Poppi saw him fighting to keep his eyelids open and smiled. “We should get back to town. Poppi bet everyone need long rest after that.”

Peach nodded, only just realizing how tired she was herself. As horrible as the hilltop battle had been, she couldn't picture it keeping her awake. Whether or not she'd have good dreams, of course, was another matter. She took a step and almost fell over, holding her arms outstretched to keep her balance. “Wooh...ugh. I don't know if I should drive.”

Crossing her arms, Poppi peered down the hill. At its foot sat Brother Grimm, just where the group left it. “Poppi could do it. Watched Peach on way here, and since it just wilderness, should be pretty easy.”

Nodding sleepily, Peach told her, “Thank you,” before looking around at everyone else. She glanced at the koopas' newly-recovered clown car, then at Michael leaning on Franklin's shoulder, then the various spirits scattered around, then Euden, who'd become human again and recovered what was left of his shoes. “Let's...make sure everyone's okay to travel, then get going. The sooner we're back in Lumbridge...the better.”

---

The trip back passed by like the start of a dream. Those able to sleep could nod off at any time, especially after the somewhat rugged terrain of the Ancestral Steppe gave way to flat plains. With minimal difficulties Poppi got the monster truck cruising, ferrying the heroes back to a well-deserved rest.

Germ Warfare

Location: Clik Clak Diner, Lumbridge, Land of Adventure
@TruthHurts22

A few seconds turned into a minute, which became two, lapsing into four. For whatever reason the bird guy kept looking at Phoenix, staring with a wide-open eye from his seat in the Clik Clak Diner where the lawyer and his newest self-determined client had settled down for the time being. He didn't get any food, and the waitress didn't come over the ask, no doubt familiar with the habits of this particular customer. Phoenix was a little familiar as well, but the two never really met. Jeremy Warton, better known by his preferred pseudonym 'Germ Warfare' to anyone who cared to interact with him, stood out as a loner and a bit of an oddball. He couldn't even be considered a Lumbridge resident, since the feathery fellow seemed to prefer to forego living in the town in favor of a tree in some nearby woods instead. Like so many of the folks in the World of Light he came across with no friends or family from his home, and when asked, he'd only ever say he was 'from somewhere.' Nothing particularly unusual or interesting stood out about him, but he remained a mystery, which meant Phoenix couldn't imagine why Germ chose to stare at him this particular night.

Some time after Pat satiated his paranoia and settled down for a milkshake, a brusque squawk reached him from the booth where he knew Germ lurked.

“'Ey.”

When he looked he found Germ leaning over the seat back, looking at him again.

“Saw ya talkin' to Houndmaster yesterday. Lawyer, lawman, makes sense. Gotta suck to have to explain what you do to people.” Like this diner, and Phoenix Wright himself, Germ stood out as a rare spot of modernity in the decidedly old-fashioned town of Lumbridge. Everything from the rafters of the tallest inn to the muddy bottom of the river Lum that split the town screamed 'medieval', but here he was. Maybe Germ, at least, was used to being an outsider. “Tell me about another case you solved,” Germ said.

A Revenant

Location: Outside RCPD, Dead Zone
@Hokagae

“Wait a moment!”

Barely had Death gotten a few steps closer to the police station than a cautionary voice sounded out from behind him, urging him to stop. When he turned he saw a young man in classy albeit edgy garb, very slender but still capable-looking. A gas mask covered his face, and from atop it stared a red eye, its opposite beneath the man's hair. “There's some sort of barrier around the place,” he explained. “Once you notice it, you're already stuck inside.” He scanned the windows, looking for activity. “A lot of people are trapped in there.” he murmured. “And now I know there's a killer on the loose in there with them. And unlike me, they'll stay dead.”

For a moment an ugly, angry look possessed him, but he suppressed it a moment later. Clearing his throat, he addressed Death again. “Forgive me, you're hurt. Here, this will help.” He cast some sort of blood magic, sending a red mote into Death that instantly healed a portion of his wounds. “Now then. I will go back inside, of course, but unless you want to be trapped until our little problem is resolved, you should steer clear.” He lingered with the Horseman another moment, in case Death harbored any questions or helpful hints for him.

Nero

Location: Outside RCPD, Dead Zone

Not noticing Joker's detour to the third floor, Nero headed down to the assembly in the main hall. There he deposited his newfound loot and lent an ear to what everyone had to say. He'd hoped for good news, but instead Blazermate had something to share that made the whole situation a lot more complicated: there was a killer running rampant. A few groups departed to different parts of the station in order to gather the civilians. Nero watched them go with a wincing sort of expression, hoping that none would run into this knife-wielding psycopath. Since everyone knew what the guy looked like thanks to the medarot's testimony and the killer let her go specifically to tell the others, Nero doubted that he would still be trying to blend in with civilians, but anything could happen.

When Fox appeared, bearing nothing less than exactly what everyone needed, the devil hunter couldn't help but chuckle. “Well, alright then.” Scratch one problem. All that needed to be done was the offering itself. Fortunately, Donovan Lee stepped up to the place. The survivors could not have asked for a better proposition than a ritual-experienced monk with pre-prepared, nonperishable chow. Summoning that luggage was a handy trink, now that Nero took note of it. What Nico wouldn't give to get one of those.

He stood around while Donnie rehearsed the act of placing food, placing incense, and lighting incense. Nero didn't know who could mess up such a simple process, but at least it didn't take too long. During that period, a group returned from the western wing. Ratchet and Blazermate reappeared alongside V, Lucatiel, and Leon, all three of them restored by the medarot's healing talents. By the time Donnie finished practicing a few volunteers were already ready to accompany him, Nero among them. Ms. Fortune wanted to come along too, looking eager to get back at the ghost that spooked her before. “Okay, let's go. No time to waste.”

Captain Howard nodded. He, Jill, and Ghalt would be staying behind to make sure that all the civilians gathered together in one piece, and that no away teams failed to return. “Good luck up there, kids,” he told them, his face determined. It was past time everyone got to safety.

A handful of seconds after Nero's group left, Joker appeared from a side door with a couple of unfamiliar civilians. He looked worse for wear, both hurt and rattled, and those with him looked haunted. "What happened?" Howard asked, suddenly feeling responsible for the kid getting lost.

---

The dispersion party moved quickly and in single file, every pair of eyes flitting between corners and shadows in a constant, vigilant search for unknown assailants. Fortune's baby blues on particular maintained a high alert, peering into darkness inscrutable for her allies, but even she turned up nothing. As such the crew arrived in the Library in only a couple minutes, wherein it proceeded to the second floor and finally to the incongruous door the feral, the bear, and the bird explored earlier. Since Donnie carried the supplies Nero took point, pushing into the unknown adjunct with a steely expression.

Nothing but dilapidated wood and quaint talismans. His breathing steady, Nero took a left and led the way into a longer room, littered with the hefty splinters of a brutalized table. In its left wall lay she shutterless window Fortune remembered, an unceremonious cut-out square that looked out into a stygian blackness. Now it was the others' turn to comprehend the existence of impossible space, and shudder. This time, however, no giant ghoul loitered outside to give a maleficent look or to try and smash a hero flat, so everyone could march across the room and to the stairs on the other side. Nero ducked around a hanging strand with large, disk-shaped beads, placing his mechanical hand on the banister as he turned at the halfway point. The room directly above the splinter hall appeared to be some sort of workshop, with a few large desks and plenty of both cloth and rubber scraps, but no ghosts.

Still in single file the crew pressed on through a handful of other rooms. In one of them, the largest, the only other door was locked, and when Nero suggested the group retrace it steps, the door them came through turned up locked as well. After that, however, the first could be opened, and everyone headed through.

As Nero neared the fifth door he came to a sudden stop, motioning for quiet. A heavy, raspy breathing could be heard, like an asthmatic fighting for air. The devil hunter nodded and made ready, trusting the others to do the same. When the fifth door slid open, it revealed a much larger room. Cabinets and cupboards lined the walls, but only rectangular tables stood out in the copious floor space. Most notable, the room didn't have a roof, exposing the pitch-black above, and the enormous figure that hung within. The Preta loomed over the southern wall, above a small table with nothing on it except candles in the four corners. Movement drew the ghost's attention, causing it to reach out one massive, bony hand as soon as intruders stepped inside.

Nero's body went on autopilot. In one fluid motion he drew the Red Queen and slashed at the incoming hand, only for the blade to pass straight through as if nothing were there. Before he could register what happened the giant hand closed around him and began to pull him close, but Nero activated his Gerbera arm to blast out of the deadly grip and toward the back of the room. Fortune slid under a table, hiding herself from the Preta's gaze. “Under cover!” she hissed, and grudgingly Nero obliged.

The Preta watched the room, its roving eye looking over all quadrants. If it saw someone it would reach down to grab them, too fast for something its size, but otherwise it simply searched, picking up a table at random every dozen seconds or so. From the moment it stole the first one, Nero knew that his team was on a timer; they needed to avoid getting caught while setting up the offering, but their hiding spots wouldn't last forever.

World of Light

Fox

Location: RCPD, Dead Zone

Against his instincts, Fox left the others to nurse their wounds as he made a mad dash for the main hall. He knew that personnel should not be traveling alone, but not everybody moved as fast as he. Little more than an orange blur through the corridors, leaving bluish afterimages in his wake, he sped past any potential danger and ended up almost slamming through Ratchet. “Whoa!” Fortunately having reflexes as fast as his feet, he angled himself a few degrees to the side as he slid to a stop. He was talking before he came to a full halt, although he needed a second take to confirm that Blazermate was in fact riding on his shoulders somehow.

“Everyone's okay!” he declared, his voice jubilant. The papers flapped in his hands. “And I got the clues. Lucatiel just forgot, is all. C'mon, let's hurry back to the others! Might be able to catch 'em before they head out.” He fell silent as he looked over his shoulder, seeing no sign of anyone following him. “Although, you might want to head over to Luca and the others. Leon and that tattoo guy are with her. Up to you, but I've gotta disseminate this info.” After an affirming nod he sped off again.

A few moments later he reached the main hall. Pretty much everyone was there, except the masked kid, Louis, and one or two others. Even Kai had returned from her patrol, no wounds or anything. “Listen up, everyone!” he shouted excitedly. “Here's everything we need to know about the ghost. It's called a 'Preta'.” Clearing his throat, he started to read.

“Preta Insight. A Preta is a type of ghost widely known throughout Buddhism, Hinduism, and related religions,” he began, mispronouncing the unfamiliar words. “It is said to be a ghost that suffers wit heternal hunger and thirst. There is a belief that those who committed deadly sins, such as thievery, while living will be reborn as a Preta. Thai people also believe that harming your parents will result in direct rebirth as a Preta. The Preta is usually depicted as a tall creature, as tall as a palm tree, a hand as big as a fan-palm leaf, and a mouth as small as a pinhole. It will live its life suffering...uh, with all the sins it has done.”

Howard looked at Banjo, Kazooie, and Ms. Fortune for confirmation. The catgirl nodded, her expression unusually serious.

“Chapter 2. A Preta is a lost soul trapped in the eternal torture from its sin. The agonizing hunger and thirst cause it to mourn painfully and creepily all night long. A food offering is the only way to calm the wandering Preta. Set up an offering on the table with colorful tablecloth and one lit scented incense. One, put food on the tableware. Two, put a scented stick on one of the...tableware. And three, light the scented incense.”

Murmurs spread throughout the room. The situation was still bleak, but Fox's instructions seemed very definitive. If the ghost could be banished, the impassable darkness surrounding the station would surely fade. Things weren't exactly good out there, but with a serial killer on the loose in here, it suddenly seemed like a much better option.

"Nice going," Captain Howard congratulated him. "We'll be out of here in no time."

Of course, the Preta needed to be dealt with first. But who would bell the cat? Kai, having been observing everything going on, observed, “Funnily enough, it looks like we have all we need. Incense, tableware, and food.” She glanced at the cup noodles retrieved by Donnie earlier. “As long as it doesn't have much taste.”

Ghalt snickered. “Anything tastes good if you're hungry.”

Overlord: Momento Mori

@Lugubrious

You mentioned Brushen Penn's third creation; I assume Graft and the Factory are one and two?

@Stern Algorithm

Graft and Papillary.