Lugubrious

Overlord: Momento Mori

In the palpable silence that settled over the whole assembly following the Fodder Baron's speech, Graft waited silently as Rodias kept his attention fixed upon Chunnitrixx. As one might expect from so soft-hearted a lord, the Dhampir had eyes only for his critically wounded subject. Of course, that left a decidedly counterproductive lull in the flow of the grand-scale meeting that the Bandersnatch Lord had assembled here, which left at least one of them feeling somewhat ill-used. The interruption got to a point where Graft was on the brink of clearing his throat to offer to render first-aid, for which he'd be happily repaid at a later date, but one of Chuunitrixx's attendants beat him to it. In a way, then, he did help, and without any effort on his personal part, which suited him just fine. He didn't exactly appreciate that loathsome organism borrowing his appearance and felt owed some sort of usage fee, but the act was not without its merits; it proved that his was the premier biotechnological skillset on call at Chateau Gothika, as if that needed proving. Imitation, as they say, is the sincerest form of flattery.

Still, it took some time for Chuunitrixx to get patched up and sent packing by none other than an extension of the reclusive Enderall entity. Unafraid to demonstrate a little boredom with his relegation, Graft summoned into his hand a vial of nanoflesh and set to manipulating it with his Remote Control skill alone. A much more difficult feat than programming it at his workbench, it served as ample mental occupation until the point at which Rodias addressed him personally. “Hm?” Looking up from his distraction, Graft quickly banished it and crossed his arms, his cane left standing upright with its end stuck in the tile. Rodias confirmed what Graft suspected about his mental state before confirming that he had the right of it in general, which was satisfactory. He mentioned a proposal that would require another Collect Call, and the Director quickly assented. “Oh, certainly. Coming right up.” After another flourish, the Lines blossomed forth once again, forming a glowing array linking the greatest of minds across vast tracts of land. Graft narrowed his eyes at the noises coming from two of them. “Miss Ashara, Gromgard, and Mr. Bits seem to be engaged in combat,” he remarked idly.

With communications online, Rodias proceeded. He explained his reasoning before delivering his suggestion. So, he planned to spare his subordinates by offering himself to the enemy? Personally, Graft was 50-50...on whether or not the proposal was a test, that is. Until recently he would have wholeheartedly assumed it to be a clever ploy to gauge the positions of Rodias' subjects, but insight into the Supreme One's behavior as of late actually had Graft questioning if he was serious. Of course, in terms of the contents of the proposal, there was no question. For a lord to surrender himself, particularly the sovereign of Chateau Gothika, was to entertain nonsense. It was a violation more gross than any wretched thing to be found in the Factory's most neglected waste-bins. Since nobody else seemed to want to speak, and since none so suited the spotlight as he, Graft consented to give an unrestricted opinion.

“From on high this no doubt seems like a compassionate, even heroic course of action. Were this a fairy tale, with you the noble lord of some town and we its hapless citizens, you might be speaking of a woefully necessary sacrifice.” He leaned on his cane, smiling. “But we are not little people leading little lives...are we? What use have we for peace?” As he spoke, tentacles extended from beneath his coat, furling out by the dozen to gnash and writhe. Graft's tone grew intense, every word accentuated. “We are vicious souls, made to cut and tear, crush and gouge, to annihilate all comers and burn our name into the minds of who survive. We are Bandersnatch, now.” He spread his arms, gesturing at all those present. “That name has known hardship. We have not won every battle, no...but we have fought them.” Several tentacles planted on the ground, and they lifted him into the air. Graft rose up, held aloft by his arms. “That is who we are! Fighters! There is a world of difference between having our lives taken from us, and giving them up! Were we to surrender our only lord, we would be forsaking our pride along with him. The name Bandersnatch, a name etched into our dark souls, would be...mud!” The array of glyphs spread to either side of him like wings, and they shone with activity. He looked around at his allies, his gaze questioning as he pointed his cane. “And then what would we have? Having sold off our lord, our pride, and our name? Idleness, infighting, total dissolution. We are not without strife even now. What would become of our merry gang with no unity or duty, no common cause? I daresay our camaraderie would not last.”

Graft descended to the ground, his tentacles retracting. No longer intense but fully serious, he approached Rodias, a frown on his face. “You may think that this plan means doing right by us, but in truth it is the ultimate betrayal. Abandonment...trusting us to the mercy of those fiends, while you survive as their thrall. Servitude...is not unthinkable, no. It is our lot. And leading us is yours.” With that he withdrew, having laid bare the proposed contradiction. Everyone present, now, could wonder how someone who thought of them as the children of his dearest friends, who treasured each and every one of them, could possibly betray them to those who would make him a slave.

Overlord: Momento Mori

That works wonderfully. Much obliged.

Overlord: Momento Mori

You may have been joking, Xalt, and I could tell that from the way you phrased it, but the issue you're pointing out is genuine (if non-critical): a breakdown of communication between the NPCs. Since I want to fix any mistakes I do make, I responded in a manner that I didn't think indicated I was personally offended. I didn't take what you said as an insult, and apologize if it seemed that way.

What you said, Enkryption, puts the onus on me to fix it. You suggested I misplayed Graft, did what I did out of ignorance of the collab, and shouldn't expect a direct response for what my character said. I know there's no ill will between any of us, which is why I'm saying anything since I flat-out avoid personal squabbles, so we can sort out the issue reasonably.

I wouldn't go as far as to say the issue was caused by ignorance on my part. My post, which involved shutting down the emergency lines because the emergency was over and Graft didn't think they'd be needed anymore, came out before the collab. It may have been a mistake on his part, but it's in-character. Seeing that, a line could have been included in the collab with Rodias asking Graft to reopen the line before making his announcement. It's true I had no knowledge of what was coming, but not adjusting and then leaving Graft out to dry leads to the potential communication issue, which is why I feel like it's not my fault. Most of what Graft said didn't need to be addressed, but he was trying to reassure Rodias and at one point essentially said "don't be sad because you can just revive Ratta", which I figured might evoke some response given how much he values his subjects' lives.

Nothing really needs to be changed, since no characters IC have pointed out the potential issue, but we could probably make a few small edits if desired. I was planning to put up a short post during lunch today that would have included Graft's response to being 'addressed' versus how Rodias treated Chuunitrixx & Co.

Overlord: Momento Mori

How should Graft know that a proposal was going to be made that included everyone? Rodias didn't ask him to restore the Lines before making it, or say there was going to be an announcement. In fact, Rodias didn't respond to Graft at all.

World of Light

Tora & Poppi

Level 6 Tora (45/60) and Level 5 Poppi (41/50)
Location: No-man's Land, the Land of Adventure
Word Count: 1477

As the Subspace Army collectively surged forward, attacking from all angles, Bowser manifested a counterattack by deploying his whole forces, and his fellow koopa followed suit. In a flash a wave of fodder appeared to meet the marauding creatures head on, and the two sided clashed violently. With nothing but their weight and their spirit behind their charges, the Goombas got it worst, going down after a couple punches or kicks even from the lowliest Primids and taking it in the shorts from everything else. Bytans rebounded off their heads and koopa shells like dodgeballs, with an accompanying noise, while Feyesh and Armights moved ahead unchallenged. The heroes engaged the enemy the next moment, but so too did the Borboras, releasing troublesome streams of air from the backlines to keep the heroes off-balance. The others leaped into action, but the Nopon and his blade could only focus on what lay ahead.

With his low height and center of gravity, Tora had little to fear from the Borboras, but he was in the thick of it. He beat down an unarmed primid before grabbing a Bytan that hurled itself his way. He held it up for Poppi, who leaped forward to exewcute a rocket-fueled flash kick that sent the thing hurtling toward the canyon. At that point three Primids attacked at the same time, one with its fists, one with a bat, and the last with an axe. Whenever he went to strike one with the Mech Arms, it would move backward and let the other two come at him. The axe in particular hurt, drawing blood when its wielder drove its edge into Tora's body. After taking a second chop Tora threw wide the Mech Arms' missile silos in frustration, bombarding the whole area with a rain of fire. While it blew away the Primids, a Ticken trundled fearlessly over the scorched earth, towering over Tora with an even more ponderous body shape. It reached a certain distance, stopped, and then threw itself bodily at the Nopon. “Meh!?” Straining, Tora managed to block it without getting smacked by the backs of his own weapons or falling over, but the creature's weight still made him slide backward. He pushed it off and started punching, only for it to shrug off the blows. They left small webs of cracks in its surface, but nothing that would stop it rearing back to deliver a headbutt.

Poppi circled around to the right side, then boosted straight at the Ticken. Krack! A weighty superman punch to the head sent it off balance, tipped onto one side. All it took then was one kick at its upper body to knock it over. As it toppled Tora tensed to jump up and finish it off, but he spotted a Primid as it tackled Poppi, grappling her to the ground. Two more broke off from where one of Kamek's fireballs scattered their formation, but before they could join the party Poppi activated her boosters to slide along the ground. She cut a furrow across the battlefield, her outstretched arms tripping Primids like bowling pins. Tora nodded, assured she'd be fine and back with him in just a moment, then hopped up to bring both Mech Arms down on the Ticken's abdomen in an overhead slam. The armor gave way, shattering into a heap as a yellow bird, tweeting furiously, spiraled up into the air. Tora watched it go for a brief moment, surprised, before a Bytan clobbered him in the noggin. He turned and saw it come to a stop, then distort. After a brief moment another Bytan popped out of its eye, launching straight for him. Tora threw a strong punch that sent it off toward Brother Grimm, where Euden -standing with his back to one of the great tires with piles of flaming ash around him- was more than happy to carve it in half mid-flight.

Another couple Primids ran Tora's way, but before they could slash a familiar explosion went off a couple meters away and knocked them down. Recognizing his handiwork, Tora looked up to see the flying machine he'd fixed up earlier, raining down Boom Biters on the battlefield. He nodded in appreciation, waving. Poppi appeared behind him and waved at the flying machine's occupants herself, but stopped to slam her heel on a Primid's head when it grabbed at her ankle. Up above, a school of Feyesh converged on the flying machine. Vivi's Thunder sent one reeling, though the creature's own affinity for lightning prevented it from being a one-hit K.O., and Cuphead took down another with a sustained barrage. The other two, however, emptied blasts of electricity into the primitive machine, racking up some damage on its systems, before the Black Mage bid them Stop long enough for Daxter -momentarily preoccupied by an aggressive Armight- to riddle them with holes.

Thanks in no small part to the well-defended death machine setup by 6's cohort, the ranks of the enemy had started to thin. Heavy fire from Bastion, Daxter, Sectonia's magic, and the Dwarven Flying Machine cut down many a foe before they could reach the line of close-quarters fighters where Tora and Poppi, Geralt, Euden, Peach, Bowser, and Blazermate held strong in a rough semicircle around the monster truck. It wasn't long before the Koopa Troop's strikers timed out and faded away, increasing the burden on the heroes, but the medabot's macabre efforts kept a few mutated, bony undead around to fill the gaps. With Linkle targeting and picking off the Borboras that worked to keep the heroes from getting too comfortable, the skirmish had turned heavily in the heroes' favor. But it was not to last.

Something rose from the ground smack dab in the middle of the Courier's fortified position, lofting above his Strikers and Pokemon, and robot, minus the Donphan. Just over a second after it arrived, it unleashed a horrible scream that contorted the air itself. Waves of weaponized sound bombarded the encampment like a storm of blades, causing heavy damage. At the same time, reinforcements poured from the entrance to the canyon path. A squad of five Nagagog hustled out, all of them blue and not much larger than Tora, but sturdy and strong. From behind them exploded a flurry of Trowlons, creatures that looked and moved like synthetic carpets.

Seeing a chance to do some damage, Peach pulled out a grenade and hurled it at the bottleneck left open by the attack on 6's bunker. Tora fired off a few missiles at the same time. The Trowlons scattered as the explosives went off among the Nagagogs. Stone and dust flew in the blast, but from the smoke emerged larger, yellow-colored Nagagogs that split up. One each went for and Blazermate, Junior, and Euden, while two took on Bowser. The Trowlons snaked out and flew low to the ground. One came in fast toward Tora, but instead of rearing up to attack him, it slipped itself beneath his feet. “Meh, meh!” He almost fell forward, but managed to catch himself with his wings. The moment he regained his balance, however, he realized he was rising. The Trowlon was carrying him upward. “Meh?! Where flattypon taking Tora?!” Trying to keep steady, he watched as the ground receded below him, quickly realizing his predicament. “Oh!” Without a second thought he jumped off and plummeted toward the ground.

Poppi, already in the sky, flew up to meet him, but the Nopon had already begun a fusillade of missiles toward the remaining enemies. The recoil slowed his descent enough for him to comfortable land on top of the Nagagog squaring up against Euden, which had gotten even bigger and turned red after taking some of his fiery slashes. Poppi poured ether into him as he beat on the creature's head, giving Euden the chance he needed to jump up and impale the Nagagog in its chest.

A moment later, however, a Trowlon scooped Euden up and started to ascend. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, falling onto his rear. This time Poppi was ready, and she zipped forward to grab the tricky beast's head and hold it down. Euden stood, using his attacker as a platform, and neatly sliced the thing in half. He leaped from its dissolving halves and landed in the ashes of the dying Nagagog, using them as a cushion. The other Trowlons, however, went for Geralt, Peach, and Bowser, attempting to get beneath them while they were distracted fighting other enemies and lift them up so high that a fall would be fatal.

Meanwhile, amid a squad of reinforcement Primids with red uniforms, something new rumbled out from the canyon path—a Greap. It rolled forward, massive scythes carving the air, in search of a target. Meanwhile, the airborne heroes found themselves under fire by augmented clouds, Spaaks, firing orbs and bolts of lightning from a distance.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Did Graft terminate the Open Link to the other Chateau-members who weren't in the Climax Hour? I'm asking since it seeme dlike Graft "shattered" the connecting glyphs, but that might as well just have been him doing some fancy theatrics I guess.

@Xaltwind

Yes, he closed the Open Lines now that the emergency was over.

Epithet Erased: Use Your Words

After one boy seemingly recoiled from Noelle, which did not exactly help her ongoing attempt to keep it together, a fellow glasses-wearer stepped up to answer. Penny gave an explanation for the rather unpleasant condition of Jessica before asking if she'd seen a little girl yet. “No, not yet,” Noelle replied with an edge of frustration, thinking of Lucy and not whoever Penny was talking about. “Or, um, a sword.” She glanced between the other kids, starting with Aurora who was talking to herself about being stuck in a swimsuit. A sudden spike of self-consciousness hit Noelle as, for the first time, she realized she'd been thrust into a crisis in a black one-piece and flower-patterned purple sarong. Instinctively her eyes flitted to Jude, who appeared to be purposefully trying to avoid looking at her for perhaps understandable reasons, and Haywood, who managed to look away just in the nick of time.

Jessica, however, provided a distraction by launching into another session of over-enunciation, beginning with a comment directed toward Penny. If one thing was obvious, Noelle thought, it was that these kids didn't know anything more about their collective situation than she did. Probably less, in fact. It'd been a foolish hope that one of them might have answers, but part of her had hoped nonetheless. Answers would have to wait, but that was fine; knowledge came secondary to the safety of her children. As she took a direct insult Noelle's face turned to a sort of resigned, suppressed unhappiness, the kind of 'why do I have to put up with this crap' expression that came included in teachers' training manuals. “W-well!” she said, still trying to sound upbeat and composed despite realizing she'd wasted time that could have been spent searching. However, her voice was strained to a higher pitch. “It sounds like we all have children to find! So, please keep an eye out.” She paused for a brief moment. “If any of you see a little boy or girl with dark hair that turns orange toward the end...um...let me know!”

Still trying to keep smiling, Noelle waved before turning to head back to the others. Not far away, where a stream flowed down from the jungle to form a furrow in the beach, a new figure emerged from the underbrush. He must have been around fifty, a stocky, hairy man with a neat, businesslike cut in the process of going gray from black. Over a white wifebeater he wore an unbuttoned sea-green Hawaiian shirt with a starfish pattern, and he wore a pair of black slacks, making him look like someone who'd been spending most of his vacation in a bar. A whole heap of jewelry and ornamentation hung off him, including an expensive-looking watch, two bracelets, three necklaces, and a piercing in his left ear. Behind him followed a panicky, mousy-looking woman with stringy blue hair, one of the potbellied dads who'd joined the volleyball game, and two teenagers that provoked a reaction from Haywood the moment he saw them.

“Liv! Milo! Hey!”

The youths ran for one another, coming to an awkward stop a few feet away. Liv, a hefty ginger with a seriously pissed-looking resting face, and Milo, a tall, stick-thin beanpole of a guy with big green eyes that seemed to be wide all the time—the buds he'd mentioned to Jessica as fellow Banzai Blasters. Together the three made an odd trio, but they looked happy to see one another again.

“Hey, you guys good?”

“Yeah, 'xcept I bruised my ass on this rock.”

“A frog jumped on my face after I got dumped in the river!”

Haywood glanced at the other group. He noticed that the bald-headed father was carrying little Maggy, the girl who'd been subjected to a sandcastle-based rollercoaster of emotion before everything went nuts. “Oh hey, that's one problem solved.”

“'Scuse me,” speaking officiously, the decorated man held up his hands to get the attention of both groups on the beach. “Hello, hi, how are ya. The name's Lou. I'm takin' charge of the situation.” He crossed his arms. “Until further notice, we're at groun' zero of a heinous terrorist attack, and we don't know who did it. Whoever it is could stab us in the backs any moment, so I ain't takin' any chances. If ya know what's good for youse, you'll stick with us 'til we figure it out. Capiche?”

He glared at the beach parties expectantly.

Overlord: Momento Mori

The door to the Climax Hour swung open to admit one Vitaphagas Graft, fashionably late. His shiny black shoes clacked off the floor, and the length of his trench coat swung rhythmically with every step he took. With his mask deactivated and no lenses over his eyes, his own milky-yellow peepers with their shapeless pupils were bared to all, but he did wear a polite smile. Behind him, like a sorcerous cloak, floated the array of glyphs that constituted his Collect Call. The sight of him set off both Papillary and Tabula, who'd been waiting with bated breath for their boss to arrive. “Director!” cried Tabula, forgetting her company as she ran his way to wrap her arms around him. Papillary followed behind her, but maintained a little more decorum.

Graft looked down at his new assistant a mite embarrassed. “Tabula, please,” he murmured. “Think of the others.”

As soon as she did, the Nightgaunt withdrew, hastily trying to compose herself. She cleared her throat, glancing between the various onlookers. “Hm-hm! Ex...excuse me.” As Graft started moving again, heading toward where his peers gathered around Rodias, Tabula walked behind him to the left and Papillary naturally took up a mirrored position on the right.

“Where were you? We were worried sick,” the flesh golem asked.

“Just getting ready,” Graft assured her and by extension the others. He wasted no time in taking the floor of Rodias' meeting, as was his custom. “Trying to keep track of the situation. Unlike some I couldn't keep an eye on the proceedings personally, but our resident mannequin elected to preserve the suspense for the rest of us.” The Fodder Baron tipped his head to Salem, his manner belying his implication. “By now, however, I am well apprised of what occurred. I'll go ahead and make a formal update.”

He waved his hands, and the array of glyphs split in half to rotate around him in either direction and reconvene before him. After a little finagling, he pronounced in a clear voice, “At this time the threat to the Chateau Gothika and its members has been repelled. Thank you for your cooperation, and remain vigilant; things will only get worse from here. Over.” With a final flourish he scattered the array of glyphs in a burst of bright blue particles, and when it faded away Graft could be seen leaning upon his cane, very casual.

“So, out of everyone in the Chateau, codename Stalker -hereonin referred to as Morgan- was vanquished by none other than our master butler, Butterfly. An individual half our average level.” He bowed his head toward the technological skeleton, offering a sign of respect. “Most impressive. And despite our adversary's overwhelming power, we suffered only two casualties. A clone, and our chronomancer. Not bad at all, all things considered.”

He dismissed his attendants and looked pointedly at Rodias. The Bandersnatch Lord appeared remarkably unwell and unhappy, and Graft knew his condition stemmed from more than the statuses inflicted upon him by the fight and his attempt to wield E Pluribus Unum. “Of course, this would be tragic if we did not possess the means to revive her, utilizing Bandersnatch's accumulated wealth.” With a smile Graft approached until he stood by the Dhampir's side. He drank in Rodias' presence, his powers of observation astute. It felt odd, overwhelmingly odd in fact, to see such human emotions etched into the countenance of his overlord, a mighty ruler and supreme being. Given what he knew of his fellows, supposedly liked by station alone, it interested him intensely. “You, Lord Rodias, are truly a kind soul to grieve so even over a subordinate's impermanent death. Still, if I may offer advice, it would be not let feelings of gloom and failure destroy you. This encounter, New World Invasion Event One, or NWIE-1 for short, taught us a valuable lesson.” He looked around at those gathered. “We are on the map, so to speak. Our foes are out there. They will surely come again, and in greater numbers. We must put our energy toward preparing for next time. You need not be sorry, Rodias, but if you are, then that is how you can make right.” With that pronouncement, he surrendered the floor.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Open Line is passive, so anyone in the call could hear anyone else.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Since Rodias has evidently escaped to the Climax Hour, I can write up something with Papillary and Tabula being there. If Morgan is proceeding through the Chateau to get there, however, I'm ready to collab her experience in the Factory whenever Irish is.