Lugubrious

World of Light

Team Mao

Location: Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Mao’s @Potemking, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Joker, Fox, Necronomicon, Braum

Evade Ciella, overwhelm the opposition, and take the hypnotic mastermind Nastasia down--the mission was simple enough, if not easy, and since every second counted the team got right to it.

Reunited from their separate brawls all across the alien colosseum by the Agito’s wide-ranging Floor of Despair, most of the Seekers ran at full tilt straight for the cluster of still-standing Resistance fighters, and none more so than Mao. The demon had noticed a certain bothersome someone way out of position, and with one victory already under his belt Mao powered through his wounds to run Fuse down. Another grenade flew his way, but by now Mao knew what to expect, and with a high-flying maneuver he came down on Fuse in a brutal plunging attack. In pragmatic fashion he threw restraint to the wind, counting on a follow-up Friend Heart to undo the lethal wound inflicted by his swordblade, saving the life of the unfortunate grenadier. And in a lucky break, things turned out exactly the way Mao planned. Overwhelmed by the physical shock of being dumped at death’s door only for it to slam in his face, Fuse collapsed, and Mao could rejoin his allies’ charge with barely a break in the action.

Though almost as scared as she was impressed, Necronomicon offered Mao some praise for his work. “Whoa. That was a risky move, Mao, but you really pulled it off!”

While her compatriots moved in for an all-out clash with the Resistance, Sectonia kept her focus squarely on Shadow. They’d been mutual thorns in each others’ sides throughout the entire conflict, though whether out of a desire to spare their teammates a particularly troublesome opponent or just out of spite was up to interpretation. Either way, neither planned to back down now. Shadow could feel that the climactic moment had appeared. Now, he knew, he’d squash this bug once and for all. “Alright, bee-yotch. You’ve had your fun, but playtime’s just about over. Any last words?”

As a matter of fact, Sectonia did. Though aware of the fact that Nastasia had him under control she made her best attempt to try and incite a rebellion, playing on the ego that so clearly oozed from his every pore. With a double dose of mental manipulation at play, however, Shadow was unmoved, as he quickly demonstrated. “Oh? How about I claim your spirit as a trophy once I’ve dispensed with you? Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick. In fact, if you blink you might just miss me. Chaos Boost!”

A burst of red and white power surrounded him, becoming a swirling aura. He raised his hand in what was by now a familiar motion, but rather than a Chaos Spear he brought forth a much larger Chaos Lance, which he hurled at Sectonia. Though it seemed dodgeable, if she tried anything less than a dedicated attempt to avoid it, she would soon find that this attack need not hit her directly to be effective. Once in range it exploded, detonated mid-flight by Shadow with enough sheer power to stun anyone it hit. Shadow then threw himself forward in another Spin Attack. En route, however, he tapped into his Chaos powers once again. “Chaos Burst!” Around him space itself distorted, creating a miniature black hole that the hedgehog then hid himself inside. Totally untargetable, he guided the singularity of destruction Sectonia’s way, limited only by his inability to see where he was going whilst within distorted space.

While Sectonia tried to deal with that, the two sides down below closed in. Braum raised his shield, and though Reinhardt would have joined him, his broken shield’s partial regeneration meant it would break too fast if deployed too early, so the knight kept it in reserve for now. That turned out to be a mistake. He scoffed at gunfire and shrugged off low-level spells thanks to his futuristic armor, but one well-placed shot from Jesse’s tool gun shrunk him where he stood. The process was so disorienting that he could hardly react in time to the second jolt, and before he knew it the giant paladin stood no taller than a Weimaraner. At that point Jesse’s tunnel vision would have earned her a sound punishment under normal circumstances, but a quick appraisal of the enemy force told her that they sorely lacked in the long-range department, so she did not relent. Instead she battered Reinhardt with a projectile, failing to send him the hundreds of feet she envisioned, but dealing a chunk of damage nonetheless and, more importantly, removing him from the fight. One down, three to go.

She turned her uncanny gun on Sven, but by then her laser focus left its mark. Rather than the alchemist’s belly her enlargement ray struck Braum’s shield as the defender practically flew in front of his ally, and before Jesse knew it Sven had soared into the air. “That’s enough, lassie!” Flying above Braum’s head, he let fly a Chaos Quaff, an enormous glass jar of liquid sorcery that shone a distractingly radiant yellow. With low energy, no hovering, and not enough time to switch to Balloon again, there wasn't much Jesse could do. The bubbling brew shattered at her feet and splashed across a wide area, dousing her, Mao, and Joker in its magic. Instantly the three were polymorphed, transformed into adorable creatures. Mao became a horned critter, Jesse a marshmellow cat, and Joker a sheep, all three fluffy, small, and utterly harmless. That left only the Dragonborn and Fox still standing, two on three. Sven landed, shaking potions with both hands and ready to fight. Funny he might be, and homeless definitely, but he was not to be underestimated.

Braum slammed the ground, causing a fissure to form, and through the resulting instability Sven charged. He flung vial after vial, creating small magic explosions with each. Though incredibly hindered in their new forms the polymorphed trio had to dodge as best they could, but even then only a couple seconds passed before Sven whipped out some Acid Flasks. “Yah!” he cried, hurling his caustic concoctions to sizzle and sear. But the gleam of a prismatic blade cut one short, and though drops of burning acid struck his face and clothes Fox stood firm. He sliced through the second vial, and as the third flew straight for him he assumed a counter stance. The smash of glass against his head triggered a brilliant flash, and when his katana slid back into its scabbard Sven flew back, his belly covered in cuts.

Victory was short-lived. Fox fell to his knees, scorched by acid. “Gyagggghhh…” he gasped through gritted teeth. “That did not...go according..to plan!”

Seeing him in distress, Braum charged forward. The brainwashed guardian shoved the wounded Sven aside and ran straight for Fox, his enormous shield poised to smash him to a pulp. The Dragonborn jumped into help, but his lightning and swordblade found an immovable object, and he too fell by the wayside. Just when Fox’s death seemed certain, however, the effects of the short-lived Chaos Quaff wore off. The afflicted poofed back to normal, just in time to save Fox’s skin and take down the last enemy between them and Nastasia.

Joker reacted fast. “Jinx, Riot Gun!” His new Persona appeared in a burst of maniacal laughter, unleashing a torrent of gunfire from her minigun. The bullets hammered Braum’s shield, doing no damage but imparting enough force against its increased weight that she slowed him down. While this happened Joker charged, sprinting into and then up the wall of stone before him. He rolled over the top and came down with a stomp right to Braum’s nose, stunning him long enough that Joker could springboard off him and toward his real target: Nastasia. Sven and Braum were the others’ to deal with.

All the while, Midna did her best to hog Ciella’s coveted attention all to herself. When yelled at from the shadows but not attacked, the Agito covered her momentary bewilderment with a thundering repartee. “Your threats, empty as your head, ring hollow!” she resounded. “The hypocrites of the so-called Resistance--murderers and scoundrels who stained their hands with the blood of innocents and decreed it righteous! And your miserable band, so convinced of your own strength, but undone by a simple ploy I showed you once already? Hah! I despair for you all!”

Wherever Midna’s voice issued from, Ciella immediately turned to loose a five-shot spread of enchanted water arrows, their azure glow strong enough to scrub the shadows in their vicinity. They bounced off the floor, pillars, and walls, ricocheting unpredictably. If Midna revealed herself, however, Mona could patch her up with a burst of healing from his dashing Persona’s Diarama. When nothing happened for a while, however, Ciella’s fury died down, and though alert she stopped firing off arrows. “As I thought...a fangless phantom, cowering in the dark! Well, come on out if you dare. I’ll put you out of your misery!”

For a moment the ‘fight’ between Shadow and Sectonia caught her attention. In her eyes both were enemies, and neither expected a third party’s interference. In that moment Midna finally appeared, a spin tile in hand that unceremoniously hurled the harpy right into one of the arena walls. It hurt her pride more than anything else, but Ciella’s frustration was palpable. “Grrah!” she snarled. “Impish brat! Every second of my time you waste, your precious friends falter, and the enemy inches closer to victory! It’s past time I ended this. Mist Veil!”

A wave of fog expanded outward through the arena, and despite her gigantic size Ciella disappeared completely. In the eddies and swirls of mist her movements could not be cleanly discerned. In mere moments the Agito would appear to release her devastating attack. Everyone needed to finish this now.

Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

Level 9 Tora (56/90) Level 9 Poppi (56/90) Level 4 Big Band (12/40)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s @Yankee, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Yoshitsune and Sora’s @Rockin Strings
Word Count: 1892

Though the Grimleal construed their offer as a choice, for most of those present, it was really no choice at all. Not able to discount the possibility of further executions on Azwel’s part, and more wary now of the sneering Kan-Ra, Tora and Poppi instinctively took a protective position in front of the other fallen Resistance fighters. They felt bad enough about the deaths on their own hands during the life-or-death battle minutes ago, and with their former enemies now defenseless, they refused to allow any more killing. Likewise, Goldlewis and Big Band -formidable obstacles by themselves, let alone together- kept an eye on the strange bellows they’d been acquainted with. The Grimleal, however, seemed to give the matter no further thought. When Fox moved to treat Robin with a friend heart, neither Kan-Ra nor Azwel batted an eye. Instead they made for the dungeon entrance, but as the researcher left, possibly to summon the acolytes, the sorcerer remained behind.

Groaning, Robin picked himself off the ground. With a sleeve he wiped at his face as if trying to clear away the remainder of the fog that clouded his mind. When his eyes finally blinked open, they landed on a familiar vulpine face. “Ah…” He rose into a kneeling position, massaging his neck as he did. Though a changed man since Fox last met him, he looked at the pilot with recognition in his eyes. Thanks to a sharp mind Robin was quickly piecing things together, but the weight of so many realizations and memories still made it difficult to formulate his thoughts. “I...forgive me,” he said at last, looking between Fox and the Phantom Thieves. “Even if my mind was not my own, it was by my hand that much pain was wrought, and for that I can only offer my deepest apologies. I know not how you dispelled this hex, but I am exceedingly grateful, nonetheless.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Skull told him, his jovial manner making it clear that neither he nor Panther took it too seriously.

His friend nodded, her smile encouraging. “Yeah, no problem! This kind of thing’s been happening, like, literally all the time.”

The sight of blonde pigtails reminded Robin to look back down at Tharja, who still lay at his side. He leaned over and laid a hand on her shoulder, shaking softly, but she barely stirred. After a moment the tactician looked back at Fox, his plea easily guessed. “I hate to ask more of you when you’ve already done so much, but if at all possible I would want Tharja restored, as well.” A conflicted but telling expression took over his features. “She’s become...well, rather important to me.”

“Heheh, good mornin’ heartache,” Band chuckled, before growing serious. “Don’chu worry ‘bout a thing, Mister Magic, we’ll get her fixed up. In fact, I bet we’ve all got some heart to give, right folks?” With a look around the detective conducted a quick headcount. “Three, four, five. Not so bad, as long as we spread the love around. Don’t want anyone gettin’ too beat.”

Poppi raised her hand for attention. “Six actually, friend Band. Poppi trapped gun lady in jail cell.”

“Oh, yeah!” Goldlewis snapped his fingers. “Knew I was forgettin’ somethin’. Jus’ be careful, she’s still got ‘er gun in there.”

After considering all the potential subjects his team could free, Tora gave a grimace. “Do friends really need heart big baldypon? He very nasty to Rose-Rose!” With a resolute shake of his head the Nopon put his wings akimbo. “Tora not do it!”

“Don’t be childish,” Big Band scolded him as he moved toward the titanic ninja. Copying what the others did, he managed to produce a friend heart on his first try and slap it into Earthquake’s gut. As the bandit stirred, Band continued, “Even if the guy’s a scumbag, he was under both the Resistance’s brainwashin’ and Galeem’s control. We don’t get to call the shots when it comes to people’s lives.”

“Meeeh…”

“Ga-what now?” Goldlewis scratched his head. “Uh, either way, I don’t think any of these guys’re gonna get justice ‘round these parts.” He glared at the Grimleal. “Not with varmints like them around.”

Like it or not, Big Band came to the same conclusion. Whether corrupt or just cruel, the administration led by Validar was one he couldn’t abide, and from the looks of it the rest of the Seekers felt the same way. “We’ll jus’ have to take it up with Validar. And be ready for anything.”

As the Seekers spread out to distribute liberation, with Tora and Poppi going to tear down their handiwork in an effort to take care of Daisy, Robin remained at Tharja’s side. She, Sora, Es, and the Witch Doctor still needed a heart from someone or another, and the tactician waited to see who would step up to the plate. A nudge at his side prompted him to glance over and see Drippy, returned from his hiding place, and though Gleaming he lacked the hypnosis placed on all the Resistance members. “Looks like we’ve still got a shot to expose that rotter Validar, eh?”

“Perhaps,” Robin replied, uncertain. “If it were up to the Grimleal I’m certain all your lives would be forfeit, brainwashing be damned. Validar might spare me only so that I might become a vessel for the Fell Dragon, Grima. But I’m not going to let that happen, and it would appear that this odd group may be our salvation. The campaign of the Resistance may have been a sham, but given the strength and moral fiber of these ‘mercenaries’, revolution may yet come to Al Mamoon.”

Drippy nodded enthusiastically, jungling his nose-lantern. “Tidy! Don’t you fret mun, we’ll have ouer day yet!”

Once the former Resistance members had been restored, that left just a couple loose ends. One was the embraced knight still imprisoned closer to the stairs, but Tora and Poppi concerned themselves with a more personal matter. They held the spirits of Beast and Dante, one apiece. “Fight was very tough, meh” Tora told Big Band when he caught the detective’s quizzical look. “If Tora and Poppi not go all-out, we probably die.”

It was an excuse Band heard more than enough of during his time on the force. Crooked cops could spin up any excuse to explain away their dirty deeds. But neither the rotund inventor nor his companion stank of corruption, and Band gave them the benefit of the doubt. “I see.” He bent down to give the dwarf’s spirit a closer look. “Looks like a tough cookie. You gonna fuse with him?”

Tora shook his head emphatically. “Meh-meh, no way! Tora have dream other night that Tora fuse with old beardypon. Get weird legs and human nose! Blegh! In future, Tora only accept things with same shape!”

“Well, Poppi not want him, either,” the artificial blade declared, her own decision already made. She glared at the spirit of Dante with unconcealed contempt. “And not want this guy. There more important things than strength.”

“Why not break ‘em, then?” Band suggested with his eyes on Tora. “Your guy had a hammer, right? Might pack more punch than your dinky li’l wrench there.” The Nopon agreed and crushed Beast’s spirit, and a moment later Poppi followed suit with Dante’s.

For Tora and Poppi

Weapon acquired:
Ukonvasara
A war hammer wielded by Vikings and Norse raiders in ages past. Said to be the magic weapon of the Finnish thunder god Ukko, they’re said to strike like lightning and contain the power to both heal and harm. This blunt weapon does indeed inflict some shock damage on contact

And:
Eryx Chip
A core chip for Poppi QT that changes the Mech Arms, increasing their strength and utility. Bearing the same twisted, demon-red appearance as Eryx, these Mech Arms shoot missiles enhanced with demonic power, and their striking ends are the fists of actually functional hands, allowing Poppi to grapple with them as well as punch

Tora waved his new hammer around, a little disappointed. “It got much shorter, meh.”

“This actually really good,” Poppi observed, having changed to QT mode to try her new Mech Arms out. “Less unwieldy, more destructive, and can actually grab and hold things.”

Meanwhile, Skull was checking out the spirit of Charnok that Panther recovered. “You’re not gonna absorb him too, right?”

Panther shook her head, bouncing her giant pigtails around. “Nah. I get the feeling that if I fuse with any more reptiles, it’s gonna be messy. Only spirits that are both cute and strong from here on out!”

“Yeah, makes sense. Ooh, then what about her?” Skull indicated Es.

He received an incredulous look from Panther for his efforts. “You just want me to be shorter than you again.” Another possibility dawned on her, one that turned her expression highly judgemental. “That...or you want me bigger in another way...”

Skull shook his head wildly as he waved his hands, trying to placate her, although the slight reddening of his cheeks gave the game away. “N-no way, man! I was just thinking, she was pretty, um, pretty...uh, strong! And really fast too, with that giant sword! Y-ya know what I mean?”

At about that time Azwel returned with his acolytes, providing an escort for both Seekers and Resistance members alike. It was time to return to the surface.

Tora freed Goldlewis. Poppi freed Daisy.

---

After a long trek back up through the Temple of Khamoon, including an exhaustive number of stairs, the afternoon sun fell upon the group once more. Tora blinked as his eyes adjusted, having been deep underground for a little too long, and stretched. “Meee-eh! So good to get back out in open!” He brushed some dust out of his hair before looked around. “What now?”

“Now, we will return with the prisoners to the palace,” Kan-Ra informed the team. “I can only imagine that it is your destination as well.”

“What is it?” his comrade asked, having heard his name.

Kan-Ra grinned at him. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t mean to address you. How foolish of me~”

As the researcher brushed him off, glowering, the sorcerer returned his attention to the others. “As I was saying, I can only imagine that the palace is your destination...also. Whether to collect your reward, or for other reasons. Although, your friends that went to join dear Ciella may not yet be done. Who knows how that turned out.” Not once did his leering smile diminish. “Rest assured we will watch over the prisoners until you all return, with the final third of their number.”

Every word eking out of the not-mummy’s mouth made alarm bells go off in Band’s head, but he did have a point. Since the boss of the Resistance wasn’t here, as Robin made plain on the way up, that meant she would be facing the other team. He did not trust the Grimleal with the captives, but he didn’t want to just assume that the other team had things covered, either. With time of the essence, he came to a decision. “Goldlewis, Fox, whaddya say we keep our new friends company while the rest run on over to the other base?”

Poppi tapped a metal finger against her cheek, thinking. “How we know where other friends are?”

“We need guide,” Tora answered, his eyes on Kan-Ra and Azwel. “Either Grimmypon help, or let Resistance member help us.”

With his arms crossed, Azwel looked displeased. “We are hardly beholden to you, my ovoid friend!”

“Now, now. I’m sure we could spare an acolyte or two to lead the way,” Kan-Ra smirked.

Band realized something. “Nuh-uh. Not gonna take a chance on ya leadin’ us on a wild goose chase. Seein’ as I’m somethin’ of a law officer myself, I’ll just take a captive into protective custody.”

For a brief moment it seemed as though an ever-so-slight shadow passed over Kan-Ra’s smile. “...Suit yourself.”

After a moment’s deliberation Es received the nomination, and in just a few moments more the former team Kan-Ra was off.

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (94/40)
Location: The Maw
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 1278

Blind and deaf to the world beyond her dinner table, Nadia savored her sardines for all they were worth. She popped in several entire fishes in at once, urged by her hunger to gulp them down quickly but able to eat just slowly enough to enjoy their salty, fatty oils, and the flavor of the tomato juice they’d been packed in. Still, in no time at all they were gone, and Nadia reached for the next closest morsels. She crunched up a carrot, wolfed down a wedge of cheese, and annihilated a tuna steak and had her claws on another sardine tin before she finally paused. “Oof,” she murmured, more from weariness than anything, and with a relieved sigh she stretched out to rest for a moment.

Though by no means stuffed and not even full, she felt infinitely better. The dire emptiness that made her take leave of her senses had calmed for now; the beast had been appeased. As she lay there Nadia took another, better look around the cafeteria. Most of the gaunt, unfamiliar kids still hid themselves in the shadows away from their boisterous guests, but one boy with hair covering his eyes approached them. Via pantomime he made clear to the new kids both his resolve to get out of here and a method by which they might do so, which gave the Seekers who refused to eat something else to hold on to. By Nadia’s estimation, Geralt, Link, Mirage, Sakura, Rika, Kamek, and of course Blazermate had yet to give in to their appetites, which cut the group approximately in half. Nadia, Bowser, Junior, Mimi, the behemoths, Glenn, Peach, and Bella, meanwhile, had partaken.

Did the feral wish she could have controlled herself? Naturally. She couldn’t help but flush a little in embarrassment when she pictured the others watching her binge. But she was a simple girl of simple pleasures. Good company, good sport, and good eating were what kept her blood flowing, aside from the Life Gem, of course. One of Little Innsmouth’s many axioms rang true in her mind. Food is life. Dying of a curse in the future could really suck, but that was then, and this is now. If there was any chance of overcoming this nightmarish place, she needed strength for the road ahead. She could not bring herself to regret her decision. As the others made for the kitchen door to unlock the way forward, she picked herself up from the table and hopped down to the floor, the unopened sardine tin held under one arm like a bookbag. With it, she could stave off hunger one fish at a time going forward, or even save the life of someone who collapsed from starvation. Nadia made just one more stop, recovering her fan from where Junior dropped it in his mad rush for food, as well as the magnet that slipped from her grasp earlier. It stuck to the side of the fan, and with the makeshift straps still intact she put it on like a backpack and scampered over to join her friends. Even after she arrived, however, she still didn’t notice that she was subtly, almost imperceptibly, taller.

It took a little boosting to reach the doorknob, since this place still seemed larger than it logically should be, but the key fit the lock. Tension filled the air as it turned, inner mechanisms sliding steadily, until finally there came the all-important click and the padlock dropped to the ground with a thump. The kitchen door swung ajar, a pale light pouring through. The Runaway slipped through the gap, paving the way for the others to follow. Behind them, a handful of the most intrepid children among the captive lot pressed up against the Seekers, willing to risk an uneasy fellowship for the sake of escape. One by one the quiet, nervous procession filtered into the new area, wondering just what fresh hell awaited them this time.

But all they found at first, when the wooden planks gave way to neat brown tiles, was an innocuous larder. With shelves full of sauces, spices, wines, raw vegetables of dubious freshness, and other cooking ingredients, it held little in the way of horror. Nevertheless, the hookline carried onward overhead, the packages that dangled from it swinging side to side softly as they traveled. The Runaway followed them through the open doorway, where a short hall formed a right-facing T-junction, and made a right turn. Treading as softly as she could, Nadia followed him, but she could not avoid glancing straight ahead in the direction the parcels went. There, she saw a small room of a much more grisly nature. Parcels littered it, some bent oddly, and a big one poked out of what could only be a meat grinder, which the hookline passed right over. Splattered gunk smeared the floor and walls, and from the pots and buckets of unidentifiable meat sludge by the grinder issues such a revolting smell that Nadia’s lip curled. She hurried on her way.

When she reached the next room, however, she stopped cold. Before her stood a much bigger, better-furnished meat processing center, a far cry from the deplorable grinding room next door, and it appeared to be the terminus of the hookline. A huge heap of cheesecloth-wrapped parcels stood in one corner, and rows of meats, from sausage links and hams to steaks and racks of ribs hung from hooks above the counters. In the constant gentle motion of the Maw they swung in unison, strangely hypnotic. Nadia’s eyes, however, lay not on the butchery, but the butcher.

He was a grotesque spectacle. With folds of doughy flesh about as yellowed as his ill-fitting uniform, a rumpled chef’s hat atop a blobby, distorted face stretched like clay to a hideous, sagging broadness, and eyes that bulged from their sockets as they stared listlessly in to different directions, he bent single-mindedly at his task. Again and again he hacked into a hulking mass of meat with his cleaver, splashing murky blood across his cutting board, pausing only to bury his hands in vats of salt and pepper to rub into the flesh by way of seasoning. In terms of height the horrible cook outstripped Blazermate by a decent margin, and in a way he unnerved Nadia more than any of the monsters that preceded him. Bongo Bongo had been a terrifying apparition, but existed so far beyond the norm that Nadia could scarcely internalize it. Moreau had been a wretched thing, and in his mutated form awakened a primal fear in the way that only an apex predator could. In comparison this just seemed to be a gross man with a big knife, but the way he was so uncannily almost human, but not quite, made her skin crawl.

At least he had yet to notice the uninvited guests piling up on one side of the butcher room, already spreading out to hide beneath tables and counters. Nadia wondered if they had enough manpower, child forms taken into account, to actually fight this grisly chef. Still, if she could sneak past, that would be her first choice. There appeared to be two exits: one continuing east and one to the south, which featured a deadbolt lock. The Runaway’s pointed finger indicated a shiny key by the cutting board on the table, but Nadia wondered whether or she could grab hold of a parcel and ride it across the room eastward if she clambered up the pile toward the hookline. Either way, the frontrunners would need to do something fast. There were too many would-be escapees to avoid detection for long.

Old Mill

Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy

When Albedo looked to his new friend he originally expected no more than a few spitballed ideas, but he soon got a lot more than he bargained for. In an oddly coincidental turn of events, Linkle recognized this place, if not from her own experience then at least from legend, and she wasted no time proving it. It became obvious that the obstacles of this section of the Old Mill would be no trouble for her, but in terms of exactly how the cheery Skullgirl managed to surprise him once again.

Rather than try her luck with the fans and falling objects ahead, Linkle manifested the power of ice, creating a frozen mass that promised to rise beneath the pair as long as she kept pumping magic into it. It was the exact same trick she’d pulled off to seal the Stranger in the ravine outside Snowdin, albeit in far less intense circumstances. With all the conventional running and jumping Linkle had done, Albedo had forgotten she possessed such an ability, perhaps foolishly, although the alchemist did not allow himself to waste any time with self-reproach. Nor did he make unproductive comparisons between Linkle’s icy elevator and his own solar isotomas, since while her method outperformed his in height and permanence, it also incurred a greater cost. Instead he rode silently, grateful for the warm coat that protected him from high-altitude winds and glacial chills alike, and waited to make the cat burglars’ acquaintance.

Linkle and Albedo arrived a few moments later, leaping from the top of the iceberg straight into the sneaky thieves’ hideout. Although little more than a corner loft with two sides open to the rest of the windmill interior, it managed to be a cozy little place. There were cushions, books, games, all sorts of things probably stolen from passers-by. The round window that provided a stunning view of the Alpine Skyline even featured curtains. So sudden and unexpected was the intruders’ circuitous method of entry that it took the cats completely by surprise. After seeing the sword in Albedo’s hand they jumped, yowling, and ran to hide among their pillows, toys, and curtains, but the paws and tails sticking out made their attempt all the funnier. Clearly the pint-sized pilferers never thought anyone would make it up here.

When he realized that the cats intended to do no more than cower, Albedo shrugged and went to retrieve his sketchbook, lying neatly on top of a small pile of other reading material. Linkle’s crossbows, meanwhile, could be retrieved from where the felines playing with them dropped them, that being on the floor. “Somewhat anticlimactic,” the alchemist observed idly. “But for the better. I doubt they’ll mess with us twice.” He moved to the edge, considering a way back down the mill, the possibility that Linkle might want to interact with the cats further lost on him.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

It's go time! With a little help everyone's got a chance to make a break for it. You've got liberty to both handle the flight from the courthouse and beyond it. It's a big prison, but with the Warlord's Vision down you can forge your own path out of the place. Coordinate an escape route, follow the leader, or whatever, but though the guards aren't that fast there are enough scattered around the grounds that it would be unwise to tarry for too long, or let yourself get cornered. If you find somewhere to lay low, however, you'll lose your heat and can stealth around.

There are a handful of landmarks in the prison grounds that may be familiar to you. Some, like the cathedral, the entertainment hall, the Egyptian temple, and the suburban home don't seem to fit the place, seemingly little worlds in and unto themselves. There are a couple more subtle anomalies though, like the open prison cell full of bodies, and the underground passages. Could one of them offer refuge or escape?

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Barney Rynsburger

Like electricity the pronouncements of the yellow-eyed adjudicator crackled among his gathered captives, and though spoken evenly they charged the very air with tension. It left several of them numb, too overloaded by the brute force of heavy truncheons and inhumane exploitation to be shocked by Pondwater’s callous philosophies. Barney kept himself as still and harmless-seeming as possible, firmly convinced that despite this man’s reasonable, even affable exterior, he would not hesitate to visit terrible cruelty on anyone he branded ‘guilty’. That was the fate that had befallen the inmates outside, after all. The thought that he could be made to suffer so thoroughly and utterly that he lapsed into total silence terrified Barney to the very core, far more acutely than any dream or nightmare should be able to.

As he and a few others quivered, however, others got jolted into action. In what was becoming typical fashion Dakota found his voice first, and Barney marveled at the former singer’s courage. He spoke aloud the implication that the judge laid before them all--that they too would be judged, their innocence or guilty confirmed. Pondwater gave a stiff nod. “Precisely,” he replied, lifting an index finger off his gavel to tap his nose. “In this very room, I will preside over your trial. You all should count yourself fortunate, for not all receive the honor of my personal arbitration. The typical defendant is jailed for a period of their own choosing, between two and ten years. The greater the sacrifice, the greater potential gain, naturally. Like theirs, yours will be a trial of the spirit, determining your strength, endurance, and willpower, but it will be much faster. Lucrative, no?”

Wait, what?! In a judgement where the sentence was imprisonment, the trial itself was imprisonment? Not a matter of litigation or evidence, but a trial in the Herculean sense, where the court subjected the defendant to the same tortuous existence as the condemned? Barney reeled from the revelation, but the knowledge that ordeal in store for him would be something else reigned him in. Of course, that just left one question. What exactly would it be? At this point, the young man couldn’t even hazard a guess. Anything was possible. All bets were off.

He glanced over at Caelum when the formal youth asserted himself, as best he could, given the circumstances. When he spoke up the sentries’ eyeless faces stared right at him, like guard dogs ready to lunge, but they made no motion without their master’s say-so. Pondwater himself, wearing a curious expression, sized Caelum up. Though he’d managed to mentally compose himself somewhat, he could only look so dignified while smeared with his own fluids and disheveled by time spent on the ground. The judge angled his head and stroked his beard. “Are you sure? You have the look of a man who’s been beaten, and not just by my guards.” He drew closer and leaned toward Caelum’s face, challenging the bloodied teenager to look him in his eye. “Fine clothes, a noble bearing. Someone brushed by greatness..? Hm. Perhaps,” the shadow intoned, “You are indeed an accomplished, well-adjusted young man, your future bright, your ducks in a row. Or perhaps you are merely pretending. Failures are those who would rather cover up their shortcomings than get rid of them. Those who care only for appearances, wearing masks to hide the scars beneath. Is that you?” Pondwater shrugged as he retreated a few steps. “The truth, as they say, will out. For before you is a chance to absolve yourself of guilt. I want you to show me the truth of your words.”

At that point, a very small voice reached him, but in the tomblike silence of the courthouse’s grand foyer it could scarcely be missed. The judge’s eyes, one piercing bright yellow and one black behind the lens of his glasses, fixated on Alina. “...I beg your pardon?” Pondwater asked, his voice rock-hard. “Perhaps I didn’t quite hear you. Surely, that wasn’t a refusal.” He clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. If you don’t take a test, you still fail, my dear. To be so far gone that you’d plead guilty straightaway, without so much reaching for the light...well, I’m afraid we don’t give points for honesty.” He nodded at a guard, who slouched forward to grab Alina like a child painfully tight around the middle and pick her up. As Pondwater approached, the guard held her at just the right height to whisper in his ear, which the judge held an expectant hand up to. “Now, what was that you said, again?”

Before Alina could reply, she was saved by a far less subtle outburst. Slowly Pondwater turned to face Nick, his luminescent gaze stony, as the crass boy repudiated him. If the guards looked irritated by Caelum, they practically fumed now, their batons held tight in clenched hands ready to crush bones into sawdust. When Nick finished, however, Pondwater stepped away from Alina with a wry smile, and the guard holding the girl put her down. “Where you are?” the judge repeated, bringing his gavel up onto one shoulder as the other slid into a pocket. He sauntered a few steps forward, drawling, “No wonder. It is clear you’ve clothed your naked guilt in the morality of the slave, dredging up enough self-esteem to live on by hurling pitiful defiances at your masters. But no matter how you self-aggrandize, it is still the masters who call the shots. In our world, you’ve gotten nowhere.”

In one fluid motion the judge swept the gavel from his shoulders and plunged it, head-first, into the ground at his feet. The sound of the impact filled the whole courthouse, and as one the guards moved to line up on either side of Pondwater. When the shadow spoke again, he did so with booming bass. “However, you chose a few of your other words far more fortuitously. For your trial is now in session, and fighting tooth and nail is precisely what I ask of you all.” He gestured to the rows of minions. “These guards mistreated you. Hurt your bodies and, worse, your pride. If you are not beyond hope, then surely, you burned against them. To strike them down and claim victory over those who dared to bring you down. Well, now is your chance to assert yourselves!” The judge smiled grimly, holding up a hand. “Lay them low and defend your innocence. Or die, and be proven guilty!”

He snapped his fingers, and in uniform the guards began to spasm. Their bodies twitched and swelled violently, as if they were possessed, their uniforms melting into shadow. With a final lurch their heads snapped backward, and one after another the pits in their faces discharged an explosive burst of inky, oily blackness. The murky, smoky geysers rose like mushroom clouds, dancing shapes forming and unforming within the haze. Then, just a second later, they came.

Barney recoiled as freakish things emerged from the dwindling clouds. The first thing he saw looked like a wretched, mutated bird, with a greenish, featherless body like a plucked chicken, gangly limbs, and a serpentine neck that coiled around itself. A blood-red face bearing a long, swordlike beak hid behind wings with gleaming, bloodshot eyes. After swooping down from their clouds the four Duplicitous Storks hovered in the air, limbs twitching fitfully as their loathsome necks wound and unwound.

Bizarre as they were, however, Barney ended up paying them little mind. Malformed cranes could still conceivably have a place in reality, but the next monsters to appear could not. They were gruesome, bodiless amalgamations, their leonine heads nestled in a ring of goat legs with too many joints, curled spider-like in all directions. Two pairs of bronze, glinting spider eyes stared out from regal faces with manes wreathed in fire. They also floated in the air, and as they turned like wheels the Lionhead Doctors half-snarled and half-bleated over the roar of their flames.

Most alarming of all, however, was the nightmare that sprang from the husk of the guard captain. It leaped down from the cloud and skidded to a halt, a three-headed beast with raven-black fur and plumage. A canine body and forepaws gave way to the dark feathers of flank wings, a tail, and rear talons, but all Barney could focus on was the violet inferno that surged from the monster’s three sets of horns. An object floated above each head in the blaze as if fuel for the fires, but they did not burn away, and the creature’s crimson eyes smouldered almost as brightly as the Night-howling Rhetorician pawed the ground, baying in a cacophony of sordid voices.

Through the chaos the judge’s voice resounded. “Hahaha! Magnificent, are they not? Shax, Buer, and my faithful Naberius! And though impressive they are but the least of the challenges my anointed must face. Destroy my servants, and you too may one day take your place at my side!”

At some point, Barney had hit the ground, though he couldn’t remember falling. Just the shadows called Shax would have been bad, although maybe he could have theoretically managed by grabbing and wringing their necks. The sight of the three Buers filled him with both terror and revulsion, but even then, with his life on the line, maybe he could have done something. But when Naberius appeared, it was all over. Standing as tall as a cow, the monstrosity loomed over him like the specter of death, more fearsome than any terrestrial predator on earth. All Barney wanted to do was run, but his legs, convinced that the hound would lunge the instant he turned tail, wouldn’t work. “W-what the hell!” he burst out, somewhere between a yell and a stuttering wheeze. “We’re just normal people! We can’t fight these monsters!”

The judge held up both hands, one curled around the shaft of his gavel. “In life-or-death circumstances, people are capable of incredible feats of courage and strength. They show you who they truly are!” He pointed the head of his gavel at Barney. “And since you’ve shown yourself to be a coward, we might as well start with you. Naberius....GAH!”

All of a sudden Pondwater’s shadow doubled over, clutching one eye. He held a palm to the side of his face with the mask-lens, leaning on his gavel with the other hand for support. As Barney watched, baffled, a terrific crash sounded out from above. He looked up to see a blue, humanoid blur plunging through a glass window, and just a moment after he scrambled out from beneath it the unknown intruder slammed down on Naberius with the force of the whole fall driving a long, silver sword through the monster’s central head.

Barney blinked, stunned, as the stranger looked up and toward his group of defendants. Instantly a lightbulb went off in his head, a surge of recognition and remembrance. That royal blue uniform, the glasses, that distinctive hat over black, scruffy hair. A black tie and shorts with a utility belt over dark leggings. Heavy-set to the point of being portly, but energetic and confident. It was the police girl from his dreams.

“You!” For a moment Barney couldn’t formulate any coherent thoughts, struck as he was by tonal whiplash. In just one moment he’d gone from certain death to irrepressible gratitude for this unlikely savior, and somehow that led him to one realization that he somehow couldn’t dispense with.

She’s so cute!

She grinned at the group. “Me!” Her expression then turned serious, and she told them, “You guys better run while his Vision is out! I’ll cover ya as best I can!”

“Feculent pig!” Pondwater’s bellowed insult echoed through the courthouse. He’d risen with clenched teeth, still clutching one eye, and extended his gavel toward the humans. “Kill them, you imbeciles!”

The Shadows started to move. Reaching down, the police girl seized the bottom of her sword where it protruded from the bottom of Naberius’ jaw. With a hearty pull she wrenched the middle head sideways, snapping its neck, before she executed a graceful flip in front of it. Her weapon, which Barney suddenly realized was a giant needle, flashed between the remaining heads, dealing both a painful slice before she kicked it right in the middle. As the oversized dog stepped back, whimpering, a fireball from a Buer on the left blazed within an inch of the girl’s face, but she managed to lean back in time.

A quick duck to the right saved her from a Buer that hurled itself at her like a buzz saw, and with remarkable speed her needle came up to clash twice with a Shax’s beak. Once put off-balance it fell victim to a well-placed slug from the police girl’s other arm, but a rain of bubbling curses forced her to dodge away. She rose from her roll and hurled her needle like a javelin into the face of the third Buer, and all the while she kept that ear-to-ear smile. “Yes!” A silvery gleam in the air revealed the presence of a silken thread, and when the girl gave it a yank the Buer went flying. “Yeeeeeehaw!” Whooping, the police girl spun the monster around like a giant yoyo, battering away the rest of the enemies. When the needle finally came loose, sending a pile of shadows tumbling toward Pondwater, she chucked something after them with her other hand. Only after it pinged off a Buer’s forehead did Barney realize that it was a grenade, and with another tug of her string the police girl pulled the pin.

A fiery explosion shook the courthouse. The monsters disappeared in the blast, and Barney, who’d been still as a statue while staring at the fight, jolted awake. Looking back at everyone yet to make a run for it, the police girl waved her hand in the universal get away motion. “What the heck’re y’all waitin’ for!? Get your sorry butts outta here!” Behind her, the smoke was clearing, and a quick headcount would reveal that she had yet to actually kill even a single enemy. As she turned back to face them, Barney turned tail. Though practically delirious with confusion at everything going on, this girl had given him a chance for survival, and thanks to it he pulled himself together enough to run with it. He was loath to leave this girl alone, but she could handle herself, and he would be a hindrance. Instead he did as he was told and began a mad dash for the front door.

In the way were two Shaxes that had managed to make their way around the main fight. Escaping meant getting around them and the dark magic they’d tried against the police girl, but this time Barney didn’t back down. He couldn’t--not now that the chips were down and he had a chance of survival. “Gang way!” he thundered, and with his head shielded by his arms he charged forward.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Barney Rynsburger

For a moment the nature of the questions posed to the group of captive intruders both took Barney aback and put him at a loss for words. The gavel-bearing doppelganger didn’t offer any earth-shattering revelations of course; what he asked really wasn’t anything special. Rather, Barney couldn’t for the life of him figure out what to say when faced, in such a surreal location under bizarre circumstances, with what seemed to be a mundane security concern.

Should he tell the truth? Well, in a broader sense, yes, but right now the urge to not be killed, beaten, put in a money-sucking helmet, or otherwise made to suffer (more than usual, anyway) was conducting his train of thought. What did this austere, imperial judge, so calm and well-kept despite being the ‘boss’ of a facility that treated countless humans like livestock, want to hear? That a bunch of random people fell from the sky? In the real world a story like that wouldn’t fly, but considering everything unreal about this place maybe it would hold water. Then again, what exactly could Barney tell this guy instead? Even without the psychological battering ram that was this nightmare world pounding his head, he wasn’t creative enough to come up with a convincing fib. His mind raced for the right answer, but the wheels were spinning, going nowhere.

With Barney overthinking this it fell to the more impulsive individuals among his not-so-merry band. Dakota took his shot straightaway, and as a straight shooter he delivered the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The judge stroked his beard as he listened, stone-faced despite a tale that would be beyond incredulous by any conventional standards. When Dakota suddenly reached into a pocket for his phone Barney experienced a momentary jolt of terror, afraid that the trigger-happy guards might interpret the motion as going for a hidden weapon and jump on him, but the watchful sentries held their positions. Maybe they weren’t as quick to jump the gun as he thought--or maybe they just wanted to look professional in front of their boss. Either way, Dakota offered the judge the video recording from earlier as proof, which he deigned to watch for a few seconds to see for himself the truth in the former singer’s words.

Emboldened by what appeared to be a reasonable attitude on the judge’s part, Jin offered a few words as well. A very slight look of interest crossed Shadow Pondwater’s face when he heard the word ‘school’, but he ended up declining the janitor’s list of cracks. Something seemed to have dawned on him, and along with it came a certain assurance. “No need for that. I believe I understand. Given the circumstances I suspected something like this, in fact, but I’ll confess to being surprised at just how many of you there are. This is not an everyday occurrence, oh no. Quite the stroke of luck for the both of us.”

After seeing the way he talked, Barney found himself agreeing with Mila completely. "Yeah, one hundred percent," he whispered back. One thing in particular that the judge said took him off guard again. “Just a moment, if you don’t mind? You mentioned the circumstances. Has this happened before?”

“Oh, yes,” the yellow-eyed Pondwater said, wearing a pleased smile. “I wouldn’t even call it terribly rare.”

Barney couldn’t suppress a shudder. An irrepressible question surged up from within him. “...Why?”

With one hand on his gavel Pondwater raised the other to gesticulate artfully as he replied. “As you are all no doubt keenly aware...our reality is a cruel one. An existence of ceaseless competition. Everyone wants to succeed and be happy, but there are far too many people out there for that to happen, yes. Many will stumble, trip, and fall. And even those that don’t at first may fall later, if their success was not by their own merits. Simply put, there are those who have what it takes, and those who do not. Winners and losers. The worthy and the unworthy. The innocent and the guilty. To answer your question, this place is one where people, of their own free will, come to be tried. Where those who can withstand the crucible emerge radiant with success, welcomed among my anointed and bound for greatness...and where those guilty of failure are sentenced.” He gave an offhanded shrug. “Naturally, wherever there are failures, some are bound to fall through the cracks.”

Barney stood still, mouth slightly ajar, as he mulled over the alarming information. It was a lot to take in, and phrased in a way that made it difficult to parse, but the more connections he made the more horrified he felt. Suddenly the prison, the inmates, the machines, Pondwater, and the placement of it all made a freakish sort of sense. Fittingly enough for a dream, everything was suddenly starting to seem so disgustingly symbolic. Barney could only shake his head in resignation. What kind of drugs did I get slipped to have a fever dream like this!? “I need to wake up already,” he murmured to himself.

The motion and noise caused the judge’s brow to furrow. “Hm? You disagree?”

Barney’s own brows shot up. “Oh! Uh, no, sorry! Just, uh, thinking about...my job.” He looked warily at the menacing guards, into the dark pits where their faces should be. This time he didn’t dare move a muscle or mutter anything, feeling like he was going crazy.

World of Light

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (88/40)
Location: The Maw
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count:

In only a few short moments the bread roll had disappeared so thoroughly that no trace of its former existence remained, and though Nadia could scarcely describe the relief that just a solitary bit of food brought her aching insides, she reached out a hand clawing for more before she even finished chewing. The pale waif on the other side of the bars shrank back from her sharp-nailed swipes, fearful and wary, and as Nadia tried to correct the misunderstanding she almost inhaled a fragment of bread. Instantly she broke down coughing, which prompted the shadowy child on the other side to draw further away from the sudden noise. It took only a moment for her to get the morsel out and then to deal with it properly, but by that time her small savior’s trepidation had borne him far beyond her reach.

At least for the moment it looked like Nadia would be stuck hungry, and the realization that she’d probably squandered her chance at a full meal in her greed made her heart sink. When Mirage questioned her from behind she looked back over her shoulder at him, curious. Did she feel any different? Not really. Right now, it was hard to think about anything but getting something to eat, but that definitely preceded her first bite. “Hm? Whaddya mean?” Faintly she remembered a few off-handed words of caution, bandied about on the boat rides earlier that day, but nothing concrete came to mind. If there had been some seminar about not snacking on the Maw, she’d missed it. With a longing glance at the laden cafeteria tables Nadia patted herself down, hunting for any irregularity. “I think I’m okay?” she answered after a couple seconds. “I mean, I’m still really sore and tired and hungry, but I’m not teeterin’ on the edge or anything.”

The conversation came to an end as the ravenous Koopa Troop got to work. Despite his weakened state Bowser actually managed to bend the bars, convincing Nadia with a flash of hope that everyone could conceivably get in with a little teamwork. Once they realized that Mimi could actually just reach through and grab food, however, they quickly abandoned that strategy in favor of stuffing their faces. Inside the cafeteria, the captive children fled in apparent terror from both the pokemon’s long, shadowy arms and the inhuman creatures in front of them, vanishing into the darkness under the tables and along the far wall. The questions of Rika and Kamek would receive no answer.

Nadia wanted to run right over there with the Bowsers and join in, but climbing up to the windowsill had taken just about everything she had left. She groaned, certain that no other peace offerings would be forthcoming from the kids inside, and peered around. There had to be a way in. One snack would buy her a little time, but she still felt close to starvation, and those held in place so far by their restraint were even worse off. Baring her teeth, Nadia tried reaching through the bars once again.

In her futile struggle she could hear Link’s musing as he tried to parse the situation. She considered the matter a little herself. “Maybe it’s not meant for us?” she thought aloud. “Or maybe we’re not meant to be here. Normal kids wouldna made it outta the junk room, let alone the flooded place.” Even her bright, slitted eyes had trouble identifying many details about the unknown children in the shadows, and despite Link’s request none seemed forthcoming. They hung their heads and stared at the floor in apparent resignation, wanting nothing to do with the noisy intruders. “They’re like prisoners,” she noticed, the connection having struck her like lightning. “Locked doors, bars, all depressed-lookin’’. They must be hungry, but they’re not eatin’ much. Just nibbles here and there.”

Running a hand up one of the bars and getting a feel for its sturdiness, Bella added, “Maybe there is something wrong with the food.” Though famished herself, she looked at the Koopas warily, then back into the room. “Something that leads them to eat only the bare minimum to survive.”

“Kids, food, traps...” Nadia’s stomach growled, longing for more, and she pulled her ears in frustration. “Nyagh! I just can’t concentrate!” She shot the others a pleading expression. “Look, even if it is cursed or something, it’s not like we’ve got a lotta options. We’re all tired and starvin’. We don’t know how much farther we gotta go, and if we don’t have the strength to keep movin’ we’re never gonna get out. It’s not like I wanna stuff myself either! A little fuel in the tank’s all I’m askin’ for.”

Peach took Link’s logic a step further. “These bars are either meant to keep them in, us out, or both. At this point it’s hard to imagine that whoever designed this place is accounting for escapees. Whatever it’s for, it’s not supposed to kill whoever eats it.” Hands clasped over her stomach, she looked miserably at the laden tables. “I don’t know how much farther I can go without eating anything.”

“I can get us in.” Her attention fell on Bella as the Abyssal turned around. “I only just gained my own life, and I don’t want to die.” She aimed the maw of her leviathan tail at the base of one of the bars. “Neither me, nor any of you.” A moment later the moulding blasted apart in a spray of dust and splinters. Once it cleared the little princess reached her tail up to bite into the bar and work it free in a series of tugs. Evidently made for confining ordinary children, the obstacle soon gave way, and the newcomers could squeeze inside.

First through the breach was Nadia, who practically dragged herself through. She flopped down onto a table, jostling the plates and bowls. An open tin of sardines caught her attention, and without hesitation the kitten began pulling the saucy little fishes a few at a time to devour them whole. Bella and Peach followed her in, both princesses too ravenous for decorum. “I will gladly take one for the team,” the Abyssal announced, though whether out of selflessness or selfishness it was difficult to tell. “If there are side effects, I will discover them.” So saying she started chowing down, using both her real mouth and the maw of her tail.

While the feast began, Link realized that not every captive child kept their difference. A single brave soul, scrawny as he was dirty, with a mop of dark hair over his eyes and a broken fetter on his ankle that marked him as a Runaway Kid, approached. He began by holding a finger to his lips with some urgently, asking for quiet among the newcomers. With a sweeping gesture he indicated the food scattered through the cafeteria, then the little prisoners, before pointing toward the rope ceaselessly bringing cheesecloth-wrapped parcels toward the kitchen. From inside the cafeteria it was easier to get a grasp of their size as they tangled, being both wider and taller than any child present by a good margin. His finger traced the path of one unknown package as it made its way steadily toward the hole by the door, terminating on the padlock. After that, it took only an indication of Link’s key to make the connection. With another finger to his lips, the Runaway turned in the direction of the kitchen and made a beckoning motion.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

It's not set in stone yet, but I was thinking of tomorrow evening's post being a smaller conversational update, and then this coming weekend would have a more progress-oriented update. So if your character has the urge to murmur to a fellow PC, or dares to ask some questions about what's going on in this crazy prison, you'll have your chance.

World of Light

Team Mao

Location: Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Mao’s @Potemking, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Joker, Fox, Necronomicon, Braum

Taking Necronomicon’s advice to heart, Joker and Fox made a beeline for the side of Ciella’s iceberg on the far side from the purple arrows, and their allies moved just as quickly. Some could simply float over the impending flood, either by their own natural abilities or through the clever use of a tool, gun everyone else had to be fast. Mao and the Dragonborn raced to take refuge with the Phantom Thieves, and though they lacked any prior hints the Resistance members still standing could see well enough where their foes ran to group up. As the two sides converged on the safe side of the iceberg, their battle began anew, and with a lot less real estate.

Fuse showed up practically the moment Joker and Fox got into position, with a couple of opportunistic Vandals in tow. Realizing the situation immediately, the grenadier didn’t slow down, but put all his momentum into a wild swing of his robotic arm at Fox. With both the haymaker and the arc projectiles of the Vandals’ shock rifles incoming, the young man veered backward in an all-out dodge. “Whoa.”

It took a moment for him to regain his footing in preparation to strike back, but by that time Fuse had already deployed a tube from his robotic arm. “Hot potato!” he said with a grin, and a frag grenade shot out to bounce once off the ground and bury itself in the sand right at the edge of the safe zone. With no other option he dove out into the open toward Mao and the Dragonborn as they ran over, while Joker, a little closer, sprang up. He performed an acrobatic flip as he vaulted over Fuse, firing three times into the Vandals’ exposed heads, before landing on his opponent’s opposite side. As he charged his new revolver, Arsene appeared to put the kibosh on the grenadier’s lunge with a quick kick to the stomach, leaving him wide open for a Curse-infused shot. But Fuse, by no means a stupid man, reached out without hesitation to grab hold of a Vandal and pull it in front of him as a living shield. Not an instant too soon the hapless Fallen took the bullet, and the explosion of the frag grenade nearby, forcing both to shield themselves, put an end to further fighting.

The next second the tsunami crashed against the cryogenic meteor, washing around either side. Thanks to the well-placed grenade, neither Fox nor Mao nor Gunnar made it to safety. When Joker cast a panicked look their way, however, he spotted all three hunkered behind the shattered remains of a second, smaller iceberg of Goemon’s creation. Though destroyed by the first wave, it offered a chance for the others to get out of the way of the second. The Thieves shared a thumbs-up, but as usual Fuse ruined the moment. More arrows flashed across the floor as he took off for the new safe side, kicking Joker’s leg out from under him on the way. With Mao, Gunnar, and Fox already on that side, however, Fuse knew he’d have to fight for it. Having lost or expended his gun at some point, he fired off another grenade at the trio, but they had plenty of time to scatter and come at him in a three-pronged beatdown.

While that went down and Joker made his way over, bruised by the fall but otherwise no worse for wear, he quickly took a look around the colosseum to assess the first wave’s damage. At the bottom of the arena Reinhardt had blocked the wave with his shield, but it shattered under the tsunami’s tremendous force, and would protect neither him nor Sven from the second that would roll out from the wall nearest them any second. As much as Joker would have liked to see Nastasia put out of commission by the tidal wave, she’d had a similar idea to Reinhardt. She’d commanded Braum to face and protect her from the water, and his shield didn’t crack. Jesse, Mordecai, Sectonia, Shadow, and Midna stayed high and dry, although the little space-pest had woken up and started shooting magic lasers at Jesse’s balloons in an attempt to knock her down, gibbering inhospitably all the while. He couldn’t see Shayne anywhere. Whoops. And above it all, terrifying in her angelic splendor, the Agito beat her snow-white wings in satisfaction. Joker hurried to safety as the second wave swept forth.

Not all was well, however, for Ciella. As she watched the chaos unfold, a familiar face sped up to meet her, sparking with draconic power. Ciella surmised the intentions of the Twilight Princess in an instant, and her lips curled in disgusted anger. “Treachery! The enemy is right there, and you dare lay a hand on me?!” Sure enough, Midna hurled herself upward from the iceberg, her hair extended in a gigantic fist. As she grew closer she could begin to get a grasp for just how big Ciella was in this form; even at her full height, augmented by several spirits, Midna wouldn’t have even reached her knee. Still, it was too late for what-ifs and second guesses. She rocketed forward, her mighty mitt aimed right for Ciella’s belly, until a sudden impact stopped her shadow hand cold.

Of course, Midna herself kept flying, which led to a painful wrench of her hair. When the stars in her vision died down, she could see an even bigger hand of ensorceled water, punctuating an arm that extended from behind Ciella’s back, that had tried to catch her punch. With her boosted attack she’d blown through it, but the impact slowed her enough that a second and third hand could grab hold. As Midna watched, one of the three water-wings on Ciella’s other side changed into an arm in a spiral motion, reeling back for a punch of its own. The Agito leered, her face twisted by the anger of the betrayed. “You’ve succumbed to vile delusions,” she declared. “But I will set you free!”

Without the weight of solid matter, the giant magic arm cannoned into Midna with brutal speed. Held by her hair, she could not fly back from the fearsome blow, and Ciella followed up by hurling Midna downwards toward the iceberg. If unable to save herself Midna would smash into it just a few moments after the second wave passed, freeing what remained of the two sides to resume fighting. Once unoccupied the Ciella’s conjured arms turned back to wings, and with narrowed eyes she searched for her next target until the voice of Necronomicon reached her. “Ciella, stop! What are you doing, she’s with us!”

“She attacked me!” the Agito spat at the flying saucer. “And what of the rest of you? Do you intend to oppose me also, and drown alongside these hypocrites!?” She raised her clawed hands, singularities of icy power swirling above their palms.

“Hold on, don’t be hasty!” Necronomicon said, and not just to Ciella. “Maybe the enemy boss is controlling her mind!”

Whatever the truth was, Joker saw his chance. “That’s right,” he addressed Ciella through the line he had to Necronomicon. “She already got Braum. If we can cut off the head of the snake, they’ll come to their senses! Plus, that Validar guy in charge won’t be happy if you carelessly wipe out his new hires, right?”

Conflicted, Ciella snarled, “I am not that man’s puppet! I will let you live for now, but if any of you oppose me again, you too will know despair!”

Hovering in a dark corner of the arena, Shadow nodded. His time had come. He’d already taken note of Sectonia, annoyed by his constant badgering and ready to fry him the moment he showed his face again. “Perfect.” Now he invoked his power to blink in front of her, giving her just enough time to reflexively begin her attack before he stopped time. “Chaos Control!” he called, freezing Sectonia mid-spell, and Shadow flew over to grab hold of her for the third time. With the bug in tow he warped directly in front of Ciella. He chuckled to himself. “Time to roast some chicken.” He retreated, and with a snap of his fingers, time resumed its flow.

Lightning surged forth and blasted Ciella squarely in the chest. The Agito gave a shriek of rage, witnessed Sectonia in front of her, and went berserk. “Graaah! So be it!” She spread her arms wide and unleashed twin frigid beams, freezing the floor they hit and anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way. Almost immediately one happened to hit Mordecai, icing him up as it flung him into the Feral Shroud that surrounded the colosseum.

Joker gave an aggravated sigh and rolled out of a beam’s path. He dismissed his empty firearm and brought out his knife, wishing he’d been able to get his grappling hook fixed today. “That hedgehog’s a serious pain.”

“Yet we need not risk getting his attention.” Fox approached, katana at the ready. “While he remains focused on Sectonia, we can target his boss.” He pointed his blade at Nastasia as she wiped water from her clothes. Braum still stood at her side, and after escaping the second tsunami with a timely Elastic Ooze, Sven and Reinhardt were backing her up, too. “Though that may be easier said than done.”

“She hasn’t called in more reinforcements, though!” Necronomicon observed. “Now might be our best shot. If we can stop her brainwashing we can end the team battle and focus on Ciella! We just need to keep Ciella busy while everyone else mobs the boss! Here, I’ll help everyone out!” She engaged Active Support, restoring some health and mana to the whole party. “Go, go, go!”

Just then, a loud noise rang out from the far end of the arena. A familiar vehicle crashed to the colosseum floor, and in a puff of smoke transformed into a certain catlike Phantom Thief. “Alright, I’m here!” Morgana announced, paws on his hips. The next moment he noticed Ciella, and his eyes went wide. “Whoa, mama! What’d I miss?!”

His radio line practically exploded. “This is the endgame! Heal Midna, avoid the bird, and don’t get brainwashed by the short office lady!” Joker told him. “Hurry!”

“Sheesh, I’m going, I’m going!” Morgana replied, summoning Zorro as he scurried forth. As he made his way toward the middle most of the party headed the opposite way, ready to sandwich the last four members of the Resistance between them, if Ciella didn’t get them first.

Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

Level 9 Tora (53/90) Level 8 Poppi (133/80) Level 4 Big Band (11/40)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s @Yankee, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Yoshitsune and Sora’s @Rockin Strings
Word Count: 2811

The sounds of battle still raged on from the other side of the dungeon, assailing the senses with a cacophony of spell noises, heavy impacts, gunfire, and yells of effort or injury, but Tora and Poppi made as much use of their moment as they could. With one another to lean on for support they could let go of the shared fury that ignited them in their battle against Beast and Dante; the Nopons anger subsided, and the artificial blades’ ether regulators, thrown out of whack by the stress and sustained damage of the fight, could bring her processes back under normal operating parameters.

After what seemed like no time at all, Primrose approached, asking if all was well. She went as far as to offer them the last reserves of her magic in order to restore them, but after taking a deep breath Tora declined. “No thanks, meh. Poppi siphon ether from atmosphere to self-repair, and Tora heal fast out of combat. So we okay, Rose-rose!” Even as he said it, however, his face bore a look of unhappiness, and the Nopon felt no need to bottle up that feeling. “It just...that very much frustrating battle, meh.” He fixed his dark eyes on the spirit of Dante. “Tora fight bullies before, and bad-bad villains. All try and hurt Tora and Poppi. But none make Tora as mad as him!”

Poppi tried to console him by patting his head, which made her Masterpon smile. In any other circumstance he might have reveled in being surrounded by two lovely ladies, but for now Tora was serious. “He constantly make fun of us, treating whole thing like game, only to turn around and attack us more vicious than wild Gogol. Meh, meh, meh! Tora not understand why someone so nasty and cruel.” Shaking his head, he glanced back at Primrose with a mournful look. “Even so, Tora try to use Friend Heart and free him. That heroic thing to do, right? But it not work. That man not get hurt like normal. If Tora and Poppi kept holding back, one of us die! But instead, he die.” He sniffed. “Tora never kill actual person before, even in crazy World of Light. But...but now Tora has, Tora can’t be hero anymore!”

With a sigh Poppi picked her Masterpon up, holding him like a teddy bear against her body. He wriggled indignantly. “Hey, put Tora down!”

“It no use moping,” Poppi told him. “It not our fault he push things so hard. Tora still hero. Especially to Poppi.”

Hearing such a thing from his ordinarily critical blade seemed to calm the Nopon right down. “R-really?!” He couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well, thank you, Poppi. Guess Tora think more on this later.” A little bashful, he rubbed his head and glanced over at the fallen Earthquake. “Meh-meh?! Rose-Rose take down bald fattypon all on own? Rose-Rose is awesome! Poppi too. Actually, Poppi little scary for minute there. Tora hope is good enough driver for Poppi.”

His companion tilted her head, smiling faintly. “Masterpon is Poppi’s only driver. Even if not perfect...not at all...losing Masterpon much scarier thing to Poppi.”

“R-right,” Tora said, his emotions mixed. Once Poppi set him down, he headed off back toward the front of the dungeon immediately, going around the right side.

He didn’t get far before gunfire blazed out from the darkness of a prison cell in front of him. “Meh!” Tora yelped in surprise. “Need Poppi Alpha shield!” His companion quickly transformed, manifesting the Drill Shield in Tora’s hand fast enough to let only a few bullets through. Primrose could hunker down behind the Nopon’s defense and Poppi’s armor as Daisy kept shooting with her Vox Burstgun.

When the revolutionary realized her attack’s ineffectiveness, she resorted to yelling instead. “Stay back, ya scumbags! I’ll blow ya full of holes if ya take jus’ one step closer!”

“You one shooting at us!” Tora yelled back, knowing that she must be under Galeem’s influence. “Poppi, let’s seal her in! Switch to earth core!”

The artificial blade nodded and activated Poppiswap. “Roger, roger.” Once properly equipped she flew forward, taking the Drill Shield as she did. Though a handful of submachine gun bullets hit her she stayed the course and dove into the ground in front of the cell. The ether-infused impact kicked up a wall of stone brick and dirt that slammed against the bars of the cell, blocking Daisy inside. A few holes would prevent her from suffocating, but for now she wouldn’t be riddling anyone else. The Seekers reconvened as they rounded the central pillar to see what had become of the fighting in front.

Closest by were Yoshitsune, the half-conscious Witch Doctor, and an unfamiliar titan of a man in a brown leather suit. Tora and Poppi tensed, weapons at the ready, but Goldlewis held up a placating hand. “Whoa, whoa! I think we’re on the same side, hoss. This feller here was just bringin’ me up to speed on everyone.” He jabbed a finger at the samurai, and Tora nodded, satisfied. Although a good two feet shorter and sixty pounds lighter than Earthquake, this guy looked a lot sharper and more put-together than the titanic bandit did, and a spiked coffin on a chain commanded a little more menace than a sickle. If Tora didn’t have to mess with him, he wouldn’t. As such, he moved on to the next nearest combatants.

Doing so allowed them to catch the tail end of the scrap between Ezio, Big Band, and Azwel. Though pinning down any assassin worth his salt was like trying to catch smoke with one’s bare hands, this assassin could neither retreat nor surrender, and against the arsenals of both Band and Azwel Ezio could only hold out so long. His resources dwindled as his wounds piled up, until finally the slipper man got sandwiched between a crystal shield and a brass knuckle. Bruised and bleeding from a dozen wounds, he went down with a bitter groan, unable to fight any longer.

In the middle of the dungeon’s front, however, victory had yet to be decided. Sora’s sudden arrival turned the tables against Fox as the young man unleashed a terrific onslaught of punishment. As if commanding a whole host of different elemental magics wasn’t enough, Sora fought like none other with his keyblade in hand. Wielding the strange weapon like an axe or club, he moved in a weightless, dreamlike manner, floating off the ground to deliver a barrage of spinning and lunging strikes that sometimes made it look as if the keyblade was swinging him around. Only the energetic intervention of Panther and Skull turned the tide, preventing Sora, Robin, and Tharja from overwhelming Fox in a crescendo of bladework and sorcery.

As the lightshow went on, however, spectators closed in. Tora, Poppi, Primrose, Yoshitsune, Goldlewis, Big Band, Azwel, and Kan-Ra surrounded the brawl. At Azwel’s urging they paused to give the three-on-three a chance to resolve itself fairly, and in that moment the biggest and mightiest men among them took a moment to exchange a greeting. As he took note of Band’s size, Goldlewis extended a hand to introduce himself. “Howdy there, partner. Goldlewis Dickinson. Saw a couple moves of yours back there, an’ I gotta say I like your style, Armstrong.”

Big Band cracked a smile at the referential wordplay. “Sho ‘nuff! Well Lewis, the name’s Ben Birdland, but these days most everybody calls me Big Band.” He deployed a mechanical arm to clasp the Secretary of Defense’s hand, and bring the two together in an arm-wrestle handshake. Despite Band’s augmentations Goldlewis held firm, wearing a mild grin of his own. “Somethin’ tells me we’re gonna get along jus’ fine.”

Their attention turned back to the fight in the middle as the situation changed. Sora had downed Panther with Blizzara, capitalizing on her ice weakness after the sight of Carmen convinced him that her element must be fire. Robin, meanwhile, made good on his earlier experiments to down Skull as well using Elwind. Fox took the brief moment that the tactician was occupied to try and strike down his support, descending on Tharja with an explosive dash, but it was all according to plan. “Barrier!” she cried, spiking her own resistance with magic. When the blast went off, she took the damage as best she could, and thanks to Barrier remained close enough that she could snare Fox before he recovered with the dark magic Nosferatu. Sora rushed in as Robin charged his thunder magic, building up a Thoron that could rip through the whole host of heroes. Band shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Ain’t happenin’. Let’s do this.”

Goldlewis hefted his coffin. “Right behind ya!”

Turning forward, Band lifted himself up, and with a shout of “Join the big band!” came down with a massive stomp. A row of trumpets burst up from the ground in a rolling wave, knocking all three enemies up and back until the last row sent them back toward the center. A chorus of trumpet blasts rang out, pelting the trio with trumpet mutes in a grand bombardment. Skull and Panther, back on their feet, saw their chance. “Let’s hit ‘em with an all-out attack!” the boy called, and as the pair leaped into the action both Fox and Primrose, who’d participated in such a move once before, could join them. The backdrop faded to red, and shadowy blurs struck Robin, Tharja, and Sora again and again.

Suddenly the scarlet and black of the all-out attack parted in a ray of yellow, returning the dungeon to normal, and the keyblade wielder burst free. “Light, give me strength!” Sora disappeared in a whirlwind of dash slashes that flung away everyone involved, then descended in a pillar of light that destroyed the trumpets. Fox hurtled to the ground but was caught by Big Band in the nick of time. The next second Sora burst forth from the devastation, his keyblade primed with radiant light to skewer through pilot and detective alike.

Tora dashed in front of him, sliding to a stop with the Drill Shield raised. “MEHMEH...meh!?” Out of nowhere a much bigger shape slid in front of him in turn, kicking up a lot more dust as he did.

Time seemed to slow. Goldlewis reached back for his coffin as Sora’s keyblade lunged forward, but rather than be impaled the Secretary of Defense unleashed his power with the aid of a little startup invincibility. His hair and clothes flapped in a sudden wind and his mouth opened wide as he bellowed, “DOWN THEEEEEEE…” Muscled bulged and forehead veins popped as his arm hurtled forward, the sheer force causing his glasses to shatter into pieces.

“SYSTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!”

The spiked end of his coffin slammed into Sora like a freight train, and the boy went flying into the ceiling hard enough to smash a crater into it, shaking the whole dungeon in the process. Goldlewis maintained his position for a moment, breathing heavily, before he allowed himself to relax. As the others got up he wiped his brow, then adjusted his tie. Sora fell a moment later, slow enough that anyone could snatch the unconscious teenager before he hit the ground. Goldlewis glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t dead. “...You’ve got strong bones.” The fight, it seemed, was over.

Gritting his teeth, Robin took stock of the situation from where he lay on the ground. Charnok, Beast, and Dante were dead. Daisy had been trapped. Es, Earthquake, Ezio, the Witch Doctor, and even their last resort Sora had been beaten. The Seekers and Grimleal sustained a lot of damage, but all appeared to be alive. Only he and Tharja, spared from the finale of the all-out attack by Sora’s efforts, remained. How?! After all his tactics, and with all of the Resistance’s strength, how could it come to this? Anger flared within him.

“I will not...be brought before Validar...and made into his puppet once more!” he growled. The dungeon seemed to darken as an unknown power built around him. A dazzling rainbow light began to dance around his body, and as a pressure held his enemies down his eyes glowed an immaculate gold. “I will purge your evil,” he proclaimed, rising to his knees. “Even if it’s the last thing I…!”

“Robin, no!” Tharja threw herself around his arm, clinging to it in desperation. “Please, please don’t use it!”

With a most atypical snarl the tactician tried to shake her off. “Release me. For once in your damned life, let me go!”

“I cannot!” the dark mage wept. “I know I am not Lissa. I know it was wrong of me to take her spirit after she died. I am so sorry to have put you through that.” Tears flowed down her face as she buried it in Robin’s shoulder. “I know I have no right to hold you, but still…! Her feelings have only strengthened my own. I cannot bear to lose you. I cannot live without you! So please, if there must be a sacrifice, let it be me!”

Her eyes snapped open, and they shared Robin’s golden luster. The same power swelled around Tharja. “I do not deserve you. I hardly deserve to live. But you must. You can take back the spirit I stole and find someone who can bring her back for real. If I can die knowing that my death might give you a chance at happiness, that’s good enough for me.”

Robin held still, his mouth slightly ajar, his brows furrowed. He stared out at the Seekers and Grimleal in front of him, then back to Tharja’s face, and sighed. As he closed his eyes the power around him faded away. “Enough foolishness,” he declared, to his companion’s confusion. “I would never ask an ally to die in my stead. And seeing you now, I cannot bring myself to be so cruel as to die and leave you behind. Besides, I cannot give up now. As long as we are still alive, we can change the future. We’ll find...another way.” He sagged down, defeated, to the floor, and with her strength fading as well Tharja collapsed beside him. Whatever power they’d tried to invoke had drained the last of their energy. And though she lapsed into unconsciousness, the dark mage wore a smile on her face.

Tora rose to his feet, shaking himself off. He and Poppi shared a clueless look. “Tora have many questions.”

Shrugging, Poppi stood beside him with the aid of her claymore. “However strange it might be, it look like we win.”

“What a touching display. I daresay I shall never tire of the human race.” When Tora looked over, he saw Azwel standing with Ezio on his knees in front of him, scimitars against his neck. “You speak the truth, machine. As they say, it’s curtains.” In a single fluid motion the researcher decapitated the assassin, allowing the head to roll until it disintegrated. He watched it turn to ash coolly, telling it, “Consider that repayment for stabbing me in the throat.” Turning his attention back forward, he waved at the Seekers. “Well, what are you waiting for? These people are killers, and if you’d allowed them they’d have killed you as well. Even if we take them alive, they’ll hang sooner or later. Might as well reward yourselves with their spirits now.”

Band’s face was one of tranquil fury. “This ain’t my town, but I’ll be damned if I make myself judge, jury, and executioner. What you just did was manslaughter.”

“Yeah, this is a God-damned usurpation of justice!” Goldlewis declared. “Whatever fate they’ve got in store, they’ve got a right to a fair trial in a court of law!”

Tora jumped up and down, flapping his wings angrily. “It wrong! Very wrong! Tora almost throw up! You are very bad man!”

Waving his fingers dismissively, Azwel deflected their concerns. “Would you really shoot the messenger? I am merely acting according to my mandate as peace-keeper. Considering what they’ve done in pursuit of revolution, a quick death is a mercy, really. Opposing me would accomplish nothing. If you take issue with our laws, I suggest you bring it up to Validar when next you meet.”

Kan-Ra tented his fingers, grinning as always. “Forgive my compatriot, he isn’t fully aware of our options. Although he speaks sense, you also have the choice of using those hearts you displayed earlier, if you so choose. Having forfeited their lives, they are in your hands. As long as they never again disrupt the lives of our fair city’s citizens, justice is, I would think, served.” He glared at Azwel, who gave an indifferent shrug and bent to collect Ezio’s spirit. The fates of Daisy, Earthquake, Es, Robin, Sora, Tharja, and the Witch Doctor were the Seekers’ to decide.

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (88/40)
Location: The Maw
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 1234

In the midst of a caustic downpour, the kids made a mad scramble for the one safe haven that promised to bear them away from this wretched place: the providential elevator. Using everything at their disposal they booked it through the deluge of agony and hurled themselves -or one another- inside. And for all the horror the flooded factory had to offer, from perilous heights and Stygian depths to the eerie Mockingbirds to the malformed shrieker and pitiable leviathan, everyone made it inside. Human, medabot, koopa, Pokemon, Abyssal, and even behemoth all crammed into the refuge, battered and burned but still alive. As the doors slid together, shutting out the last hurrah of the acid rain and the sight of their loathsome foe, the children could hear one last cry. “I’m sorry, lady...I tried my best...I’ll do better, next time…” A moment later, the lift began to rise, and the nightmare of the Depths was left behind.

Though half-eaten by acid herself, Blazermate filled the elevator’s confines with liberal usage of her healing beam. The flesh corroded by vicious bile began to heal, its stinging pain steadily falling for each patient until comparable with the gruesome hunger that lanced their insides, and the incredible fatigue that occupied their strained muscles. However, Nadia noted with more than a little revulsion that the acid burns didn’t heal quite right. The skin closed over the damaged area as best it could, but failed to recapture the original appearance in totality. She couldn’t help but recall the grisly photographs of Canopy Kingdom soldiers warped by chemical damage during the wars, both with other kingdoms and his own wife, Queen Nancy, after she became the Skullgirl. She gently ran her fingers across her upper arm and winced as she felt the irregularity. Scars were hardly new to her, but not in this form. All the more reason to get back to normal soon.

When the elevator reached its destination and discharged its occupants, a miserable bunch of children spilled forth. Now that Moreau was out of the picture and their frantic hearts could ease up, any adrenaline still sustaining them faded fast, leaving them hollow, deprived, and tired. In front of them stretched a short and narrow hall, its floor of wooden planks, with an empty wall to the right, a tall door at the end, and a long barred window on the left. Moaning, Nadia sprawled out on the ground, clutching her belly as it grumbled incessantly. Even those who hadn’t exerted anywhere near as much as she had were scarcely better off; everyone ached terribly, and the end felt dangerously near.

Faced with such dire circumstances, Nadia couldn’t help but squeeze out a delirious laugh. “Hah...hah. Isn’t it...funny? After all that, we’re just gonna waste away…” Though the kind of girl who tangled with death and flirted with disaster with some regularity, Nadia never imagined she’d meet her end by starving to death. For a fighter such as herself, scrappy and adaptable, ready to take on whatever life threw at her with a fang-toothed grin on her face, it was the ultimate irony that she should die in such a manner--not with a bang, but with a whimper. It was an awful, ignoble way to go, and the thought of never seeing her friends, her home, or even the sunlight again filled her with irrepressible melancholy. Tears welled up and a full-body sob wracked her as Nadia tried and failed to keep herself under control. “This blows,” she sniffed.

Her eyes flew open, her anguish suddenly silent. Blinking, she sniffed again, then a third time. At that point there could be no mistaking it. The feral’s heightened senses detected a ray of hope that cut through the cloud of despair around her. Licking her dry lips, Nadia whispered, “Food.”

She planted her hands on the ground and pushed, rising shakily to her feet. Like a drunkard she tottered over to the barred window on the left, where she leaned against its sill. Her head reached just high enough that her glinting eyes could peer inside. “I smell food!”

Within she saw a much larger room, dark but for the soft glow of large, round lights like tiny moons on the opposite wall, and in their pale illumination she saw rows of tables, each with a bench on either side and a number of plates and bowls on top. Nadia’s little heart thumped in her chest. A cafeteria. And on those dishes...?

“No way.”

Almost every plate and bowl was laden with food, practically untouched. Breads, stews, meats and fishes, fruits and vegetables, everything. Nothing looked to be of particularly good quality, with a lot of it less colorful and aromatic than it should have been, but it was food nonetheless. If her group could just get in, it would all be theirs. Nadia’s mouth watered like crazy, and she wasted no time clambering up. But try as she might, even a scrawny kitten couldn’t squeeze between the bars. She could only reach out her arms in desperation, scrabbling for a roll just beyond her reach. An undignified noise of frustration escaped her as she flailed around wildly, scraping her claws against the table on the other side.

Suddenly the roll slid into her grasp. She blinked, confused, and for the first time noticed a small, dark figure sitting at the table. It was a child about her size, a boy, and he’d been staring at the new arrivals the whole time. Without a word, he’d pushed the food into her hand. Scattered throughout the cafeteria, in fact, were a number of silhouetted children, all deadly silent, all watching. Wearing her gratitude on her face, and deaf to any words of caution from behind her, Nadia shoveled the roll into her mouth. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she wolfed it down. Though stale and without much flavor, the hunk of bread tasted like the best thing she’d ever eaten. Nadia didn’t waste a single crumb of it. So absorbed was she that she didn’t notice the lights flickering, nor what lurked in the inscrutable darkness of her peripheral vision.

Inside the cafeteria a veritable smorgasbord of food, barely picked at by the quiet children, awaited the starving arrivals. In addition to the table scraps, there even appeared to be a few vending machines, both conventional and more stylized, stocked with sodas, fruit juices, soups, syrups, coffees, and tonics ripe for the plundering.

The cafeteria sported one other feature. A rope crossed its entire length along the far wall, moving from the left to the right. At regular intervals hooks hung below it, and from most of those dangled parcels neatly wrapped in brown paper and cream-colored string. Their steady, rhythmic progress in front of the lights cast moving shadows across the cafeteria, through the barred window, and onto the hallway wall. There appeared to be no rope going the other way. The parcels disappeared through a high-up hole by a large door in the cafeteria’s right side, padlocked but with a slot at the bottom through which plates of food could be shoved. Both light and noise issued from the openings. Should anyone not overtaken by hunger try the one door in the current hallway and find it locked from the other side, they might realize that the Kitchen appeared to be the only way to progress onward.

Old Mill

Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy

Just when Albedo was finally getting used to the unusual floating devices and their odd behaviors, the final stretch of the mill changed things up once more. At this point, despite his climbing ability and the undeniable utility of his solar isotomas, the alchemist approached every new obstacle with caution. A fall from here, after all, would be beyond fatal, even if a wooden beam or metal gear interrupted his rendezvous with the windmill’s distant floor. And fittingly enough for such a high altitude, the challenges at this point seemed to revolve around two facets characteristic to the sky itself: wind and falling.

Albedo made sure to scrutinize everything in painstaking detail. Fans powered via gears by the main turbine or the wind outside span at high speed for a few moments at a time, threatening to blow away anyone who happened to be in front of them when they turned on. Pillars suspended from above like stalactites featured bronze cores with cylindrical sections that appeared, as per Albedo’s best guess, to be held on by friction alone. The flooring from here on out appeared to be mostly stone blocks, all topped with concentric hexagonal patterns. The darker ones he set foot on without issue, but the moment his foot fell on a blue one, it began to slide downward. He withdrew his foot in a hurry and watched as the block descended until it fell out from between his fellows and hurtled down into the windmill below.

His eyes went wide as a potential problem occurred to him. “Look out!” he called as a warning for Linkle, afraid that the falling mass might crush the poor girl, but a moment later he realized his worries were unfounded. The Hylian clambered up just a short way behind him and jogged over, reuniting the pair in their quest for stolen goods. Albedo nodded, managing to avoid looking embarrassingly relieved. “Good, you made it.” He inclined his head toward the obstacle course in front of them. “The blue-colored tiles will fall out beneath you. We should be wary of the fans, although I believe I have already spotted a section where using one may be necessary...”

In the middle of his explanation, he spotted a blur in the air ahead. Wordlessly he charged forward, reaching out for the distortion. The cat burglar yelped as it dodged out of the way and sprinted across the blue blocks, at the edge of which Albedo stopped short. With a stony look he observed the feline high-tail it across the blocks, then jump over a gap to the vines growing on one of the handing columns. In neither case did it appear to be heavy enough to make the contraptions fall. Once it reached the next floor, the burglar turned to stick its tongue out at its pursuers, and meowing laughter overhead caused Albedo to look upward. “Their hideout must be nearby,” he remarked. “Which means we are almost finished here. Still, this may be tough. My jumping ability is limited, and my isotomas cannot reach the next floor.” He turned to gauge a route ahead once more, open to ideas from Linkle.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

When menaced by the pit-faced prison guards, their clear inhumanity and heavy black batons unnervingly suggestive of the wanton violence they threatened, the average tormented university-goer fell in line. Nobody, after the veritable electrocution that was the shock of finding oneself thrust into this urban netherworld, wanted to risk a savage beatdown courtesy of these freaky things’ truncheons--or so Barney thought.

While he and the others wilted under the guards’ eyeless gaze, silently cooperating in the hopes of keeping those fracture-inducing weapons at their sides, Vincent took action. A singular idea had possessed him: that falling into the hands of this place’s security meant death, and any chance for survival, no matter how risky or slight, was worth taking. A few guards close by had their attention on physically motivating Mila and Jin, who’d recovered less well than the others from the ordeal so far. Grunting “Get your asses in gear!” the nearest shoved the poor redhead into Jin hard enough to send both sprawling. It was then that Vincent threw himself into the guard, capsizing not just the aggressor but his closest compatriot as well, who took an unlucky blow from the fallen guard’s flailing arm. As they went to join the others on the ground, the criminal made a break for it.

Even as his subordinates struggled to get up, the captain moved quickly after the runner. “HEY!” Vincent took off with every ounce of speed his legs could muster, so fixated on his goal of the open guardhouse gate that he didn’t see the guard’s arm in motion. Instead he could feel the air pressure against his hair as the baton came down in a leaping overhead smash, narrowly missing both Vincent’s shoulder and leg. Not even a second later it struck the surface of the dock behind him, strong enough to crack the ground. Fragments flew amidst the big pink splash, but the criminal sped away, the adrenaline pumping through his veins from the near miss lending wings to his feet.

As he pulled away from the cluster of guards and students, however, Vincent became acutely aware of a single fact, one no less damning for its simplicity. The great yellow searchlight atop the courthouse, the eye whose eerily animal likeness could make one’s skin crawl, swiveled to follow him. No matter where he went, he would be bathed in its lambent flood. Suddenly, the feasibility of an already unlikely escape had dropped to rock bottom, but the beacon’s glare was hardly the extent of his worries. Behind him, the guard captain pulled his arm back with his baton held tight, and only after a moment did Barney realize that the fearsome sentry meant to throw it. A sudden, irrational urge flared in Barney’s mind, telling him to tackle the guard and give the runner a chance, but he couldn’t do it. His logic and instincts for self-preservation would not allow it. And though a million things told him he’d made the right decision, he still felt ashamed.

The next second the captain hurled his baton like someone throwing a stick for a dog. It sailed through the air and struck Vincent in his right tricep. Though it amounted to just a glancing blow, and neither broke bones nor prevented him running, it sent enough pain through his arm to make the impact with the dock feel like a stubbed toe. Wounded but tough enough to continue on, Vincent staggered for only a moment, and as he resumed his flight the guard captain straightened. “Hmph! He won’t get far.” Though lacking a face to sneer with, he conveyed the expression well enough with his voice alone. Barney could exactly see with the sentry’s back turned, but he thought he saw the guard reach to his chest and make a pulling motion. When he withdrew his hand, a liquid, shadowy mass formed into the shape of a new baton. Dumbfounded, Barney watched as the guard used the weapon to point at the fleeing criminal’s back, just before he passed through the gate between dock and prison. “What are you morons doing? After him!” With angry noises of affirmation, the two guards Vincent knocked over raced in his direction.

Then, the captain turned toward the rest of his captives, their progress halted by the unexpected escape attempt. No emotion could be gleaned from staring into his yawning pit, but his anger could be tangibly felt, and Barney knew in that instant that he and the rest were about to suffer the consequences of Vincent’s defiance. “Looks like your friend made the wrong choice,” the guardsman drawled. “Can’t have you gettin’ any ideas now, huh? Boys, hobble ‘em.”

Panic seized hold of Barney, but before he could even fight back the nearest guard lunged for him. The dark sentry grabbed him in a choke hold, the pit of its face so close that the bearded man could feel the warm humidity welling up from within. As struggled against a grip much stronger than it should be, the captain approached and with a swing of his baton struck Barney right on the bridge of the fit. “Augh! Gah!” Barney cried, any fight taken out of him. Though he couldn’t tell if it was broken, just setting it down hurt plenty, and that was enough for him. When the captain raised his arm again he pleaded, “Please, no! I won’t run, I swear!” The guard gave a stiff nod and moved on to the next person, held in place by his next crony. With teeth clenched both from pain and anger, as much at his own pathetic simpering as the cruel guardsmen, he watched the same fate befall the seven others, even the little girl. He silently begged the others to not fight back; if anyone tried to kick or bite, they’d surely receive as many blows as it took to beat them into submission, and probably a couple more after that. Once the captives’ collective ability to run had been hobbled, it was time to march.

The guards forced their newest prisoners to limp down the dock and into the prison. From there it was only a short walk to the courthouse, not even two minutes, but it was time enough for Barney to witness exactly what was going on inside the prison yards--the ground-level view denied to him by the walls along the shoreline. The sight filled him with such horror that it chilled him to the bone, and half-remembered words sprang, unbidden, into his mind. Your situation is not an enviable one, they whispered. I couldn’t blame you if you called it Hell

The prison yards were alive with convicts. Clapped in chains between their huge metal collars beneath iron helmets with human faces, and wearing striped uniforms in the distinctive white, black, and blue of Barclay Waterfront University, they were herded like livestock along the yards’ gravel paths by guards brandishing buzzing cattle prods. The sentries oversaw the endless procession going in and out of various pens, where the inmates sat in rows of desks. Once seated, pipes affixed to their helmets, and as a glowing yellowish fluid pumped into the back, what appeared to be money got vacuumed out through the mouth. Perhaps worst of all, the scene was silent except for the shuffle of feet, the clanking of chains, and the whir of the machines. Nobody wept or screamed. It was a grim march of inhumane utilization, one that made Barney’s early usage of the word ‘nightmare’ seem laughably, painfully premature. After only a few moments he averted his gaze, unable to stomach it. His eyes drifted to the searchlight, still locked onto Vincent as guards corralled him between the pens. His hopes that he might find refuge in the prison grounds had been in vain, and Barney didn’t want to see what became of him, either. Luckily, it didn’t take long to reach the courthouse.

Once the new arrivals were inside, the grand double doors shut with a massive slam, sealing the scene of barbarism outside. Barney forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to keep the gasping to a minimum as he fought to calm himself down. “This isn’t real,” he murmured once more. “It isn’t real. I’ll wake up any minute now, moan a little, and go to work…” As he labored to control himself, however, he couldn’t help but be distracted. If not what he’d just witnessed, in fact, he might have been stricken by admiration. The courthouse’s grand foyer made for an awesome spectacle, its rich red carpets and tapestries striking among marble-white pillars, arches, fancy railings, and curved stairways. In some ways it reminded Barney of a posh theater house more than a court of law, but the enormous, classical statues that littered the place, all glaring down imperiously with their swords and shields and scales at the ready, helped reaffirm the place’s identity. Here and there he spotted more security on patrol, the molded white decoration on their uniforms elevating them above the ordinary guards outside. After fanning out to make sure they had their guests surrounded, the arrival’s escort settled in to wait.

They did not wait long. Barney, kept alert and fidgeting by the lingering pain and his raw nerves, became aware of an intermittent tapping that grew steadily louder. By the time the source appeared, all eyes were on the left-hand staircase that swept down to the ground floor straight ahead, and everyone beheld him at once. It was a man, middle-aged, with brown hair starting to thin and gray, and a stocky frame. Gilded glasses over flinty eyes were sandwiched between broad shoulders and cheeks hardened by scowling wrinkles, and he sported a bushy but well-kept goatee. On closer inspection, the right lens of his glasses was dark, and its frame fanciful to the point of looking like a half-mask. He wore the tie, collar, and flowing black robes of a judge, but his attire aside, he seemed to Barney somewhat familiar. In fact, he looked like the spitting image of one Myron Pondwater, president of Barclay Waterfront University, if not for a few unusual traits. His long robes trailed behind him and seemed to curl upward toward the end, turning wispy, and they seemed to move of their own accord. In one hand he managed an oversized judge’s gavel, bigger even than a croquet mallet, whose head he held to use the tool like a cane. And his eye. Though Barney couldn’t say what color they ought to be, the one visible eye that sized up the young people before him was a shade of luminescent yellow that at this point felt disquietingly familiar.

He came to a stop and placed the butt of the gavel in front of him, with both hands rested upon it. “So, these are the folks who’ve thrown my prison into a fine state of uproar.” With a look of disdain he narrowed his eyes. “On closer inspection, they seem quite ordinary, although certainly not of my stock.”

The guard captain nodded. “Yes sir, we captured them before they could cause any trouble. Only one got away from us.”

“Not from me,” Pondwater corrected him. “He was detained moments ago by the pens and will be with us shortly, although with the state of his jaw he may not feel very talkative.” His gaze never left his guests, which meant that everyone could see his expression of mild amusement, the look of one in complete and utter control. Barney shivered, and Pondwater continued. “You all, however, seem quite capable, and I do have a few, simple questions. So let’s consider this the beginning of an impromptu trial. If we can treat one another fairly, we can come to an understanding, correct? So, who are you? How did you get into my prison, and for what purpose?”

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Barney Rynsburger

"Ambulance?" Barney distracted himself from his search for a moment to take out his phone. In a frustrating turn it looked like he had no signal. He shot Nick an apologetic look, worried about the other guy's agitation but unable to do anything about it. He wasn't equipped to help other people out with their panick attacks; for now he had his own problems to worry about.

No matter how hard Barney looked, of course, there appeared to be no way out. As the seconds ticked by his heart rate slowed, since despite these extraordinary circumstances, no further revelations presented themselves. The others, disoriented both by their collective fall and their phantasmagorical surroundings, also labored to collect themselves, and though the ghastly prison loomed in front of him, neither personnel nor tower spotlights came his way. As his initial panic subsided, and Barney worked to steady his breathing, he watched the massive arcs of city parts lazily arcing over the orange-hued cityscape beneath a smoky sky and a distant, dusky horizon. He even began to feel a sense of calm--a tranquility borne of the realization and subsequent certainty that none of this could possibly be real.

Well, duh, Barney sighed, rubbing at his eyes. In every dream there came a point where the suspension of disbelief shattered, and one gained awareness that one was, in fact, asleep. Finding out this soon put him ahead of the curve, in fact, although he still felt quite idiotic. Unfortunately the discovery didn’t grant him any semblance of control, but it did take the weight off his shoulders. At that point, though Barney stood just a few feet away from a roiling phantom sea of tar and in front of a massive, villainous-looking prison in a burning city, his train of thought turned to practical concerns. “This is just some...stress-fueled delusion,” he reasoned aloud. “Maybe the cafeteria food made me hallucinate. Hah.” A wry chuckle escaped him, though he wasn’t totally joking. “I guess its fine if I’m just conked out somewhere, but I really can’t miss work. Just gotta find some way to jolt myself awake.” His eyes shifted between the other students, and the elements of his surreal scenery. Other people he’d seen around the school being in his dream perturbed him not at all, although he did spend a moment wondering exactly when he’d gone under. Back in the student center, maybe? Details notwithstanding, he needed to wake up. “How’d they do it in Inception…?”

His gaze naturally fell back on the oily ocean-substitute, their fascinatingly transient and suggestive colors and shapes all too irresistible for a wandering attention. A lightbulb went off over Barney’s head, and he snapped his fingers. “Falling! That’s right, okay…” Ignoring the others, he jogged over to the edge of the dock and tensed his muscles to leap in.

Instead, he froze solid. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to go no further. Suddenly wary, he stared down again into the oil’s fluctuating surface. It was dazzling, enchanting even, and by his logic a leap into it would give him the escape he longed for, but at the same time he could not deny that there was something terrifying about it. Some raw, primal aspect to the stuff made him suddenly unsure of his plan, and after a moment he stepped back from the ledge.

Although annoyed by the failure of his plan, Barney couldn’t help but feel it was for the better, somehow. It wasn’t often that self-preservation instincts kicked in like that, and even in a dream, there were some things that just weren’t smart to mess with. Dreams were the product of one’s own mind, after all, and pain could be easily imagined.

Of course, that left him right back at his original question, the same one that troubled him before all this foolishness got started. Where do I go from here? He had to wake up some way or another. Barney regarded the prison once more, noting its tall buildings and the precipitous walls. Even the guardhouse at the base of the dock fit the bill. Might as well, he figured, give it a shot.

With a deep breath, he started off in the direction of the guardhouse, but he could not avoid glancing at the others as he stepped by them, and the sight of them gave him pause. Some, lacking his constitution, looked pretty hurt by the fall. It even seemed to shock the older guy into a different, much more intimidatingly gravelly voice. He knew this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, but still. While the area defied belief, the other people looked so uncannily normal. Barney knew he couldn’t possibly have looked at any of these people, even Mila or Harriette, enough to accurately recreate them. And was he really creative enough to conjure up all these details? Barney shook the questions from his head. How could he possibly look at that prison, that sea, and second-guess what all this was?

After a moment he managed to focus, and return his attention to the task at hand. Yet the next second he got distracted again anyway, this time by the courthouse. For a little while it just sank into the backdrop, as fantastical as the rest of it, but now Barney’s eyes fell on the gigantic beacon beneath its dome. Its light was turning his way, toward the dock. And though he should have known better than to think twice about it, he couldn’t suppress a sudden surge of disquiet. On impulse he broke out into a jog, but his action came far too late. A second later the spotlight hit the dock and stopped in its tracks, the humans from Barclay Waterfront University awash in its golden light. Likewise Barney froze, a deer in the headlights, as in the center of the beacon a black bar, like a horizontal slitted pupil, expanded.

Then the alarms blared forth. A multitude of unseen klaxons started up a shrieking wail, hideously animal-like in nature. The prison filled with spinning lights, and multiple guard towers swiveled their own beacons to join that of the courthouse, fixated on the dock. A few moments passed before the guard house burst open, discharging a squad of frenzied prison guards. Barney could only watch, horrified, as they raced down the docks with batons in hand. “Stop right where you are!” the biggest one hollered. “Put your hands in the air!”

Barney obeyed immediately and without question. He moved by instinct; in his terror, all his self-assurances of this being a dream no longer mattered. That he did nothing wrong did not matter, either. He just needed to cooperate, not present a threat or problem of any kind, and it would be okay. That was what he’d been taught. As the guards fanned out around their targets, though, Barney couldn’t help but sneak a look at the main one, and what he saw puzzled him. At a quick glance it appeared to be an ordinary security guard, with black pants, a white collared shirt, a dark body armor vest, and a wide-brimmed hat, kind of like a drill sergeant’s. But there was something off. He spotted no trace of skin, only what must be a pitch-black bodysuit where it should be, and toward the extremities he was baffled to find angular patterns of color that shifted, kaleidoscopic, across the guards’ limbs. Most striking, however, were their faces. The black suits extended up there, suggesting a ski mask, but instead of an eyehole he could see only a pit that sank into the head, with only blackness within.

“Hmm?” The captain stepped forward, fixing his pit on one person after another. “You aren’t inmates! His Honor will want to see this.” As the other guards brandished their batons, those menacingly inhuman heads watching like hawks, the captain pointed toward the courthouse. “Now, march! Run for it and we’ll drag you there with broken legs!”

Completely overwhelmed, Barney could do nothing but follow along. As a guard pushed him he began to walk, wondering just what kind of nightmare he’d brought upon himself.

World of Light

Team Mao

Location: Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Mao’s @Potemking, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Joker, Fox, Necronomicon, Braum

Both Mao and the Dragonborn readied themselves for the showdown, but naturally the demon had anything in mind but a fair fight. As he readied his fist his foe couched his sword in a ready position, one ambiguous enough to lead into either a slash or thrust as necessary. Given his worse condition the Dragonborn would need to end this fast, ideally in a single stroke, and if Mao could capitalize on that desperation, he could pull off phase two of his plan. Both warriors drew closer, moving with purpose if not swiftness, until they reached the invisible line in the sand. Then, as if fired from cannons, they sprang forward with their weapons of choice ready for the finishing blow.

Pumping adrenaline threw that moment into slow motion, making the crucial second last. For that moment, however, the Dragonborn’s victory looked assured. His sword, gleaming in the light of the suspended colosseum, extended forward in a deadly simple thrust, its length plus his greater reach all but guaranteeing that a lethal stab to Mao’s center of mass would connect before his fist. Unless, of course, the Overlord stopped short. Rather than carry forward Mao ground to a halt and punched the empty air. When fully extended his clenched knuckles discharged the arcane power built up within, and like a bundle of fireworks the magic hurtled across the few feet that remained between demon and human. Then the explosive detonated against the Dragonborn’s chest, and the rest was history.

But Mao wasn’t done. With time proceeding normally once more, he dove into the ensuing blast with a friend heart in hand, and as the smoke cleared it revealed a Dragonborn in perfect condition once again. Beneath his helmet the Nord was totally stunned, but without any trace of injury, fatigue, or inner turmoil, he felt oddly calm. He blinked at the little Overlord in front of him as Mao’s mechanical arms came back to life. Somehow, the lad had fully restored him. “Well, blow me down!” he exclaimed with gusto, reaching up a hand to adjust his helmet. As he did Mao could see the walrus mustache beneath. “That’s a potent magic, and no mistake! I’m remembering...everything…” His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not my enemy, after all! That blue wench was controlling me!” Sword in hand, the Dragonborn stood. “By the Divines, I’ll strike her down, or I'm not Gunnar Flagon-pile!”

While they got acquainted, Jesse took her chance to get more up close and personal with Mordecai. A cunning move on her part took him totally by surprise as she ran from the pillar, galvanizing the sniper into action. Judging by her attacks earlier it would take him more time to bring the barrel of his rifle around for a shot than it would take her to throw something at him, and his fears soon proved spot-on. Jesse yanked some material from the re-collided column behind her to fling at him, and though he evaded it easily enough, her next attacks proved a little more devious. His sharp eyes brought Jesse’s recycled projectile to his attention, but he still only moved in time to turn a debilitating leg break into a glancing blow that hurt the moment he put weight on it. In desperation he blasted off a shot in Jesse’s direction, hoping it would give her pause, but it sure didn’t stop her dropping a piece of ceiling, and this time he didn’t get off scot-free. The telekinetically-propelled piece of caging came down on his legs as he tried to roll away, and with a grunt of pain he hit the deck. “Bloodwing!”

With a shriek his bird attacked Jesse. Its talons shot for her eyes, and if not for her Health it might have gouged them right out, but instead those fearsome claws glanced off the barrier. It tried to speed away, but the impact slowed it enough that the FBC director could get off a clean shot with her Tool Gun. Only a slight imbalance in its body structure was enough to send it spiralling to the floor. Of course, any sense of victory would have to wait, as a sniper bullet then slammed into the Health around her head. Without actually damaging the Bloodwing she hadn’t topped up her barrier, putting her in a risky position. Though if he couldn’t reposition, Mordecai could still shoot her after twisting onto his side, and even if Galeem’s influence didn’t compel him to keep fighting, the attack on his beloved Bloodwing would. Another decision lay before her--should she run for cover, or take advantage of Mordecai’s injury to remove the threat for good?

At the other end of the battlefield, a very angry Midna rushed to prevent the sudden death in store for Reinhardt and Sven. Infusing her hair hand with draconic power, she dealt the future knight the biggest slap he’d ever seen. Despite his formidable size and even stronger, heavier armor, Midna managed to bodily smack him out of harm’s way. He didn’t lose his footing, but having just used his Charge he was too far away to do anything but start stomping back over. Sven, meanwhile, was low enough to the ground that he noticed the telltale purple circle expanding below him, but Midna’s Twilight Vibrava definitely sped him on his way. Ciella’s rain of arrows fell upon nothing but metal and sand, melting from lethal bolts into ordinary water a moment after they hit the ground.

Ciella threw Midna a despairing look, assuming the save to be an accidental fit of incompetence on the imp’s part. The princess’s shout, however, said otherwise, and Ciella’s disdainful annoyance turned to an incredulous anger. “Careful, little one,” she warned the imp. “I will not tolerate those who deceive themselves.” With that she flew forward, headed for the center of the arena, leaving Reinhardt and Sven both behind and far apart.

Long before Ciella reached it, the colosseum’s middle was a hotspot of activity. Joker and Fox stood along before a veritable firing squad of Vandals, with Nastasia sitting smugly right in the middle, gloating over her new conquest. As bad as Joker wanted to plug her with another snap headshot from his revolver, he knew her overshield would save her, while he and Fox stood no chance against the retaliatory fire from her goons. Now, Joker thought, would be a great time for a few random projectiles from Sectonia to throw the enemies into disarray, if not for that explosion a few moments ago that told him no help would be forthcoming. As the flare from the incendiary grenades cleared, however, revealed a Sectonia outwardly charred but still very much alive.

Shadow’s eye twitched as she boasted about it. Not in the mood for any more annoying magic or banter, he threw himself at her head in a heavy Spin Attack, only for the attack to fail to connect. “Huh?”

Down below, Sectonia blinked around Nastasia before making her move. Her blade, fast and perfectly aimed, flashed toward her head in a killer slice meant to bring the whole conflict to an end in a single stroke. It bounced harmlessly off Nastasia’s overshield, leaving just a few cracks and prompting a coolly amused look upward as the little lady adjusted her glasses. “Uh-huh, alright. Gentlemen?”

The barrels of a dozen rifles trained on Sectonia all at once, but that wasn’t all. “Forgetting someone?” Shadow teleported behind the bug and grabbed her by the neck. “Nothing personal!” He then propelled himself downward, taking Sectonia with him, and smashed her to the ground in a giant chokeslam. He flew out of the way as the Vandals opened fire. Though brutal, the aliens’ bombardment lasted only a few seconds, as Joker and Fox took advantage of the distraction to race around the fallen insect.

With a deep breath Fox called upon his Persona. "Goemon!"

Ice swept through the ranks of the Fallen, chilling them as Joker got into position in front of Sectonia. He couldn’t waste this opportunity. “It’s showtime!” He span low to the ground, launching a pressure wave that staggered his enemies, before powerfully launching into the air. Joker put a hand to his face as his mask turned to blue flame, and with a flourish his original Persona appeared. “Arsene!” The well-dressed specter unfurled his wings and spread wide his hands, a crimson power building in the center of the enemy force. “Here!”

A dome of accursed power blasted the Vandals apart, scattering them. Just Nastasia remained there, knocked down by the force. Fox sprinted toward her with his katana unsheathed, ready to make mincemeat of what remained of Nastasia’s overshield and finish her off, but his swing clanged off the giant shield of a brainwashed Braum. As the huge man swung at him Fox leaped back, hesitant, and in that moment a booming voice reached him.

“The time has come,” Ciella called from on high, addressing everyone in the arena, from Mao and the Dragonborn to Jesse and Mordecai to Midna, Reinhardt, and Sven to all those in the center. “For the stains of hypocrisy to be washed away! May those who stand by me recognize what came before and save themselves! Cryogenic Meteor!”

From her position above the center of the arena the Agito threw down a giant mass of ice, forcing those beneath her to scatter. Its impact both shook the colosseum and prompted some sort of reaction from the Feral Shroud that encased it. A wall of water frothed in a ring around the fighting area, like an omnidirectional tsunami somehow held in place. The entire floor suddenly glowed purple, with what looked like enormous arrows pointing to the left side of the arena.

“This is a classic!” Necronomicon exclaimed suddenly. “Since Futaba and I are one in the same, I’ve got all her secrets. Everyone on our side needs to get on the left side of that ice mountain, right now! Here: speed up!”

As Necronomicon cast a party-wide Masukukaja to help her allies on their way, Ciella stretched her arms wide, her eyes alight with madness, and sang out, “Floor of Despaaaaaair!”

The water on the right side of the arena surged forth, sweeping leftward in an inexorable tsunami. Barely a moment later the purple glow reappeared, with arrows pointing upward, toward where the Resistance started. Both waves wreaked havoc on everything in their path--save the iceberg planted square in its middle, and anyone hiding behind it.

Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

Level 9 Tora (50/90) Level 8 Poppi (130/80) Level 4 Big Band (8/40)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s @Yankee, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Yoshitsune and Sora’s @Rockin Strings
Word Count: 1609 and 1235

As Tora sparred with Beast he kept one eye on Poppi, and what he saw helped him realize just how fortunate they’d been to run into that steely spectre in the ruins above the shady oasis. His companion drove the point of the claymore she’d received from her fusion into Dante’s back, eliciting a furious howl of pain, before the weight of her new armor carried both back down to the dungeon floor. They landed with a crash so tremendous that the brief duel between Tora and Beast came to a momentary stop, but while it was awe and apprehension that gave the dwarf pause, no such feelings stayed Tora’s shield. This demon killer was one tough customer. Even after Poppi landed such a brutal attack, her Masterpon knew better than to assume victory.

His suspicions proved well. Before the dust even cleared, the man still face-down on the ground bent his arm back with Revenant in hand, and only thanks to a quick jerk sideways from Poppi did his blind shotgun blast not eviscerate Poppi’s face. As he wrenched himself free from the ground, still impaled by the claymore, Tora could see a white power building around him. That couldn’t be good. As Beast turned back to swing at him, the Nopon hammered every button his Drill Shield had to both extend its giant bit and fire its thrusters. He blasted onto the unprepared dwarf, drilling into Beast’s chest for the split second before he deflected the bit with his hammer’s shaft, then carried forward the momentum as he cruised toward Dante and Poppi. Sensing the same thing Tora did, Poppi readied herself as well, summoning her claymore to hand in a defensive position.

Their efforts came to naught. Dante unleashed a burst of demonic energy across the dungeon, turning the area monochromatic and flooding it with white light. Try as he might, Tora could barely move. Time itself had slowed to a crawl. A look of mild alarm appeared on Poppi’s face as she realized she could not defend herself, and the next moment Dante reached her. In the haze his hair shone white and his coat red, and among the black veins on his face he wore a smug smile. “Game over.”

With that he started his assault. He swapped between weapons and firearms in a blistering, non-stop string of free damage, mitigated only by Poppi’s armor and, if it happened to get in the way, her sword. Tora grit his teeth, and even though it felt like pushing through molasses, forged onward. This guy’s sheer cockiness was staggering. First he hurled insults while not fighting seriously, and now he ignored Tora while stomping all over his precious companion while she couldn’t even fight back. He probably assumed that Tora was nothing without her. With every second that passed Dante cut and pierced deeper and deeper into Poppi’s chassis, and though she wore a brave face Tora knew all too well just how agonizing it must be. More than any enemy faced so far, this guy pissed Tora off. He was going to pay. He was going to pay!

The demon killer brought Poppi back to the floor with a Helm Breaker from Rebellion, then caused a ground bounce with a two-handed smash from Eryx. As the artificial blade popped upward, his Devil Trigger came to an end, and Dante made sure his victim got a good look at his face while he changed the fists out for the demonic axe, Arbiter. “Nighty night. Now get…” He brought the axe behind him for a killer overhead cleave. “Fu-!”

“MEH!” A sudden weight against the axeblade forced the weapon downward. That same impact bent Dante backwards at an awkward angle, like he was doing the Limbo. When he craned his neck backward, confused, he discovered Tora on top of his shield, having used his copious weight to drive it, and by extension the axe below it, into the ground, where it got stuck thanks to all the spikes on its axehead’s back. Dante snorted in derision, shaking his head. It was a valiant and clever but ultimately useless move, one that bought the Nopon only a second of time and disarmed him in the process. The demon killer opened his mouth to make sure Tora knew just how screwed he was, which made it all the bloodier when a wrench smashed into his teeth the next instant.

“Guh!” Dante roared, spraying blood as he transformed Arbiter to strike back. Keeping cool, Tora hopped from his shield to sit on his enemy’s chest. The sudden weight flattened Dante against the ground, and with a cry of righteous anger came around with a backhanded wrench smash into Dante’s jaw.

A wordless groan escaped the fallen devil killer as he went limp, head lolling sideways. As much as a part of Tora wanted to keep bludgeoning, he managed to keep himself in check. It wasn’t something a hero would do. Instead he brought up his other wing, holding a Friend Heart. He looked down at Dante and hesitated, but only just a moment. “This much better than meanypon deserve!”

Before he could bring his wing down, he felt a hand grab it. Taken by surprise, he looked in time to see Beast, but not to stop the petrification that spread across his body, turning the Nopon to stone. The dwarf then unleashed his hammer in a heavy onslaught, batting Tora around like a beach ball until Dante, floored but far from beaten, raised Kablooey to blow Tora away.

A moment later Tora rolled to a stop against the dungeon’s central pillar as the petrification wore off. Beaten up and blurry-eyed, without any clue of what just happened to him, he pushed himself onto his feet with a groan. He held up his wrench as Dante approached, but the demon killer flicked it out of his grasp with the tip of Rebellion’s blade, smirked, and drove it into his head.

“Meeh…” Tora gasped, his eyes squeezed shut, but the swordblade never got the chance to test his hearty constitution. Instead it deflected off an ether barrier, leaving Dante confused until a yell sounded out behind him, drawing both sets of eyes. Beast, who’d gone over to finish off Poppi, crashed to his knees, the laser blade of Poppi QT Pi’s Variable Sabre stabbed clean through his diaphragm.

Poppi stood beside him, her face cold and expressionless, her bright orange eyes on Dante. As he watched she removed the saber by carving out sideways, leaving the dwarf nearly bifurcated to dissolve. The form change had reconstructed her wounds, and she was in practically perfect shape. Her eyes remained on the demon killer the whole time, unblinking, as she brought the humming weapon to her side. “Dead man not lay another finger on Masterpon,” she told him, then rocketed forward in a burst of speed. With a growl Dante activated his Devil Trigger once more and hurtled toward her with a Stinger. This time, however, Poppi had already internalized his move. At just the right moment she turned upside down, then executed a backflip to extend one leg straight into his head for a dizzying kick. Their blades clashed in a storm of plasma and silver, Poppi’s sheer speed and Dante’s wounds nearly equalizing the pace of battle despite Devil Trigger.

The furious duel ended a moment later with a sweep that slid Dante backward, knocking him out of Devil Trigger, and like lightning Dante switched to Aquila and hurled both blades forward to keep Poppi occupied. He then brought out Kablooey, but scarcely did he bring the demonic grenade launcher out before Tora hit him from behind. The Nopon threw him into Dante belly-first, and as if he’d been struck by an exercise ball the demon killer bounced forward to find that Poppi had managed to deal with Aquila much faster than he expected. As her upward swing launched Dante, Tora called out, “Poppi, it time for secret protocol!”

Whatever that was, Dante wouldn’t be having it. Aquila flew back into his hands and melted across his fists, becoming Eryx. He fell like a meteor to cave in Poppi’s skull, but rather than try to capitalize with a combo Poppi evaded the strike. When Dante looked up at her he found himself staring at the Variable Saber in shotgun formation, and Poppi wasted no time pulling the trigger.

He stumbled backward, tripped over the ever-troublesome Tora, and fell hard. “Releasing final lock,” Poppi declared as she jumped upward, but as she went high Tora went low. With all his strength he swung a two-handed punch right into Dante’s nuts, paralyzing him, and a moment later Poppi plunged her weapon into Dante’s chest, even as his hand came up bearing dual pistols.

The dynamic duo knew what needed to happen. Poppi raised her arm, and after she and Tora cried out “Quantum Judgement!” she began to spin at high speed. The artificial blade became a jet-propelled, laser-bladed blender, slicing across Dante’s chest again and again, each deeper than the last. Even as demonic bullets pounded her she kept firing, until finally the saber carved into stone, and Ebony and Ivory went quiet.

Poppi slowed to a stop, her cold fury fading. As the halves of the demon killer started to dissolve she sank to the ground on her knees. When Tora waddled up and seated himself beside her, she leaned on him, and he on her. It was over. In a few seconds they would get up to help their allies, but for just a moment now, they could be still.

---

With Es seemingly incapacitated for now, Band turned his attention from his own little corner back toward the other fights littering the front half of the dungeon. Right away he noticed Skull and Panther also on the loose, their own fight apparently wrapped up, and by the lack of draconic bodies around the detective could intuit how that went. The others, however, were still going strong.

Once the Phantom Thieves got out of his hair, Fox alone faced down the twofold threat of Robin and Tharja. The ace pilot’s experience, both with Robin in particular and healers in general, told him that he should target the dark mage first, but he found his efforts in vain. Tharja managed to move in tandem with her partner, staying behind him and only following up when he attacked first, so by the time Fox could either try to reflect or get around her spells Robin would already be on his tail again. Fighting smarter, rather than harder, seemed to be the name of the game. Their unique approach left Fox with no other option but to take the fight to Robin, but even then Tharja’s annoying tendency to follow up his sword swings with the dark wells of her Hex kept him from being able to go toe-to-toe. Still, Fox knew that he only really needed for them to run out of mana, at which point only Robin’s sword would be left to oppose him. He jumped in once more, but rather than try to hit the speedy airborne Fox with a relatively slow-moving spell, the tactician readied his sword. From above the pilot took a shot at Tharja, and while both mages moved to avoid it Fox dove right into their midst. A flurry of strikes assailed Robin, too quick and close for him to effectively counter, try as he might. “Tharja,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now!”

The Dark Mage gave a weary nod. “Rescue!” she droned, her voice utterly without enthusiasm.

Stepped out from behind him, she flourished her stuff, creating a golden magical circle right where Fox and Robin were fighting. There came a flash of light, and a young man with spiky hair and dark clothes appeared right in the path of Fox’s attack. Once struck, the gleaming Sora had no choice but to fight back, even though he wasn’t brainwashed. He summoned a giant key to hand and went on the offensive.

At the same time Yoshitsune fought against the Witch Doctor, although to Band’s eyes it looked more apt to say he fought her summons. The sorceress just kept pumping out minions, her supply of spider-filled jars seemingly limitless, and when their numbers weren’t enough she supplemented the arachnid threat with toads, firebats, grasping hands, and explosive zombies. Already the samurai had been bitten, blown up, barfed on, and manhandled, and even though the individual hits did little, they were starting to add up. Though he didn’t mean to, he was playing the Witch Doctor’s game, and if he didn’t get help or come up with a new strategy, Band could only see him going down under the summoner’s crawling horde.

Less bizarre was the duel between Ezio and Azwel. One fought with a multitude of summoned weapons, floating them around in quick and unpredictable patterns, but the other wielded a small arsenal of his own, and with a lot more pragmatism. Even with the sorcery on Azwel’s side Ezio could apparently keep up with sheer skill, leveraging each sword, hidden blade, smoke bomb, crossbow, and pistol at his disposal. He, too, could use a hand.

Band sighed. This kind of chaos, full of odd characters and odder powers, reminded him strongly of his time at the Anti-Skullgirl Labs. After being gone for so long, it was nice, in a way, to be fighting alongside a team of allies once again, Grimleal notwithstanding. “This sure takes me back.” Of course, he couldn’t spend much time being sentimental, or those new allies of his might not stick around. The Phantom Thieves were hanging back too, trying to figure out where they ought to insert themselves. Band waved his hat at them to get their attention. “Our furry friend needs backup. Give ‘em a hand!” As Skull and Panther nodded and ran to skew the odds in Fox’s favor, he approached the duel between Ezio and Azwel. Yoshitsune would have to hold out for now.

“AAHHAAY!” Band entered the fight with Brass Knuckles that Ezio rolled to avoid. As he dodged he loosed a bolt from his little crossbow, but when its point pierced his trench coat only to ping off the cyborg’s metal body, the assassin grimaced. Even if he could more than hold his own in conventional combat, two capable combatants was a problem, particularly a giant one with armor. Then again, Ezio could neither retreat nor give up, so unless the medieval-looking man was packing some mag in his bag of tricks, Band felt pretty confident.

“Two against one, hmm?” Azwel smirked, rubbing at one of a few new stab wounds. “I daresay some would look at us and call us dishonorable. Alas, history is written by the winners.”

Band huffed, releasing clouds of steam from his pneumatic organs. “Then let’s boogie.”

While that fight got underway, Yoshitsune continued trying to survive against the Witch Doctor’s wretched retinue. Poisoned, burned, and bleeding, he fought in vain as his strength flagged, and Daisy shooting at him didn’t help, either. In the end, however, his patience was rewarded. Heavy running footsteps behind him signalled help on the way, probably from Big Band, and just in time, too. After chugging a mana potion the Witch Doctor summoned another explosive zombie, and with fatigue setting in the samurai didn’t know if he could dodge it. As it bore down on him, an immense shape descended from Yoshitsune’s right, and in a single titanic slam the undead menace turned to paste.

When Yoshitsune sliced through a few spiders and glanced over, however, it wasn’t Band that he found. Instead another titan of a man stood before him, seven inches shorter than the detective but not much less wide. He wore a brown suit, yellow tie, and a pompadour of pale, sandy hair. Just one eye looked back at the samurai through black glasses. “Howdy there,” Goldlewis Dickinson greeted him, hefting his coffin across his shoulder. Yoshitsune might recall him from the commission he undertook earlier in the day. “When I heard all the fuss, I reckoned I oughta come down and see for myself.” With a mighty sweep of his coffin he cleared away a whole swath of creepy crawlies, and as he set it down again it popped open. A long arm of spectral blue extended to deliver an enormous minigun into the Secretary of Defense’s waiting hands. “So this is the Resistance huh? I’ll be. Well, I’m fixin’ t’do my part.”

As Goldlewis squeezed the trigger a fusillade of minigun bullets ripped through the crowd of spiders, toads, and bats, clearing them out in just a couple seconds. Daisy ducked back into cover to avoid the fearful weapon, but the Witch Doctor, who knew not such tools of war, took a handful of rounds. Luckily they didn’t actually seem to do much damage, but they could really wipe out the fodder. Despite his wounds, Yoshitsune had the chance now to deal some damage.

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (86/40)
Location: The Maw - the Depths
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 1112

A guttural bellow of rage shook the Depths as Moreau struggled in vain against his assailants. While he reared up and flopped around in an attempt to swat Blazermate from the sky, the clearly non-functional eyeballs on his back provided a less-than-ideal picture of where she was, but when his torso emerged from his mouth for a peek Bella pelted him with a shot from her tail. If he went for her Blazermate could dive in again to annoy and distract him. He lurched around all the while, forcing Nadia to dig in her nails and clung to his tendril for dear life. For a moment there she lost her footing completely and swung around like a yowling tetherball, with only the last dregs of her already laughable upper body strength in the way of a short and disastrous flight. Through instinct she knew that she could not survive being hurled into the heaping collection of sharp edges and hard surfaces that carpeted the Depths, and that knowledge locked her little fingers in a death grasp. Yet even in such dire straits as these, she started mashing Moreau’s eyeballs again the moment she touched back down. In her peripheral vision she could see her pals on the move. Whether from hunger or excitement, a mad, giddy glee overtook her. She was doing it. It was working!

The sound of her name being called stirred Nadia from her little rampage. She looked over at the central catwalk to see Mirage. In his hand he held the blue magnet half. With a stupid grin he rattled off some line and chucked it at her. If not for her catlike reflexes the tiny thief might not have caught it, but she’d lunged and snatched it out of the air before she knew what she was doing, which also brought her to fresh ‘ground’ on Moreau’s back. As she tried to steady herself on the not-yet-squished eyeballs she stared down at the magnet for a second, then back to Mirage, her expression one of astonishment.

Was that...a pun?

How idiotic -how insanely moronic- did you have to be to see this situation and decide that now was a good time to make a joke?

“Dude! I’m kinda busy right meow!”

The magnet in her hand began to glow, its surface dancing with thin, bright blue arcs. It started pulling on her, strong enough that she needed to devote a whole hand to restraining it. Why or how, Nadia couldn’t imagine, but for the moment she had bigger issues. “Little pest! Get offa me!” Moreau bellowed. Just as she expected the monster had gotten tired of chasing after Blazermate, and now he started up a violent shaking to get rid of the other thorn in his side. It was high time she got a move on. But how? She felt like she could barely walk, let alone jump, and if she somehow survived a fall off the fish freak’s side it would be the easiest thing in the world for Moreau to annihilate her. In panic Nadia glanced back toward Mirage, Geralt, Link, and Sakura. When she spotted the red magnet in Mirage’s hand yet another crazy idea occurred to her. Could that actually work? Experimentally she extended her own magnet toward his, and the pull intensified. This is nuts! she thought. But it might actually work?

Just then two things happened. A shadowy phantom in the shape of Mimi appeared to start rupturing eyeballs like bubble wrap, and Geralt shouted at her about a nail. Nadia blinked, processing the request as fast as she could. “Oh yeah, I saw it just a minute ago!” As Moreau continued to shake she crawled on her hands and knees toward the mutant’s other side, where the little witcher’s metal spike still protruded, but when Moreau became aware of her movement he had an idea of his own. “There you are!” he grumbled, and after leaning one way he started to roll over.

“Crap, crap!” Nadia cried out as she felt herself moving backward faster. No matter how she willed herself to move faster, to get to her feet and run, her feeble body would not respond. She was going to get smushed. She was going to die. As she started slipping her eyes landed on Bowser as he leaped above the monster, bringing her attention in turn to the nail he hammered deeper into Moreau’s back. In the heat of the moment a flash of inspiration hit her, and with the last of her strength she thrust her magnet upward.

The next thing she knew, she was flying. The squealing kitten shot up from the jaws of death, carried by her magnet, and latched onto the nail. For a moment she clung to it, frozen, but even with the agony of the nail Moreau was still rolling. Neither she nor Bowser could stick around. Unable to pull out the nail at this point even if she wanted to, Nadia left it for Bowser to dislodge and turned her magnet on Mirage. Before she knew it she sailed through the air once more, her ears and tail flapping in the wind until she landed right in Mirage’s arms.

Of course, the sudden weight knocked him onto his rear, but both were okay. That ridiculous stunt had saved Nadia’s life. “Purr-fect.” As her chest heaved from exertion she got out a gasping chuckle. “Hahah...I can’t really move…” she rasped, looking between the children as Bella and Peach ran up. “Help a gal out?”

A disgustingly cheerful ding rang out throughout the Depths. The elevator had arrived. Nadia stared as the doors slid open; against all odds, victory was in their grasp. As Moreau rolled back onto his belly, the kids made a break for it. Thanks in part to Sakura’s darts, everyone could see a path to the exit. But the abominable mutant knew it too. “No!” he cried. “Don’t go! Look, look! I’ve been saving this one…”

Rather than chase the fleeing children, he reared up one again, his belly swelling up. A moment later he unleashed his final hurrah. A fountain of noxious acid burst from his twisted maw, soaring as high as the dangling maze of the Depths’ fourth floor before dispersing across the entire area. A caustic deluge fell from on high. Peach popped open her parasol, but it provided only a second or two of relief before the downpour burned straight through it. A single drop left such a painful burn that Nadia knew even a few moments’ exposure would be fatal. If everyone didn’t get either into the elevator or under something, they were toast.

Old Mill

Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy

Albedo returned his new friend’s wave, glad that she’d been making progress in her own way. Given her energy he really hadn’t expected to be outpacing her again, but in all fairness he did have a couple tricks that together basically amounted to cheating. Rare was the platforming challenge, after all, that could take into account someone able to climb sheer walls. Confident that she needed no help, the alchemist returned his attention to his own ascent.

The task at hand was a simple one, hardly challenging, but even given the circumstance of having a precious item stolen from him, Albedo couldn’t say he disliked it. Even for someone like him, it seemed, light exertion mixed with problem solving could be enjoyable. Climb, run, jump, jump again, run, wait, jump, ride, jump, climb, jump, climb, Solar Isotoma. He rose steadily higher through the colossal windmill, surrounded by simple machines in perpetual, rhythmic motion. On the icy mountain Dragonspine that loomed over his home of Mondstadt, the winds gave voice to all manner of song as they blew past its peaks and faces. They whistled, howled, and screamed, sounding sometimes eerily like voices, or wide-ranged musical piping. Here, however, the winds meted out a different tune. Within these walls they sustained a hymn to industry, a song of clever machination that would not end so long as the winds still blew. Unless, of course, the components fell apart from neglect. Albedo kept an eye out for any signs of untrustworthy footing as he forged onward and upward, his heart beating to the turn of the pulley and gears.

About halfway up, things started getting more interesting. The machines thinned out somewhat, and less practical instruments took their place. Albedo spotted several panels somehow suspended in the air, mostly in spaced rows across large gaps. Those flipped one way sported a blue color, while those the other way showed red. When he attempted to set a foot on one by way of experiment, it held for a brief instant before swinging to the opposite side. “Hm,” he murmured, figuring that if needed he could probably jump off one in time to avoid falling. In such a manner he could conceivably cross an entire row of them, as long as he didn’t mess up. Less scrutable, and therefore more interesting, were the more rare green blocks. Marked on each vertical side by two slanted holes like angry eyebrows, they floated innocuously in open space. Once again Albedo gave one a try. At first it seemed like nothing happened, but a moment later -after he got both feet on- it started pushing out copies of itself, traveling through the air. He jumped back before it could take him too far, then turned to watch the block procession turn at right angles as it went left, right, left again, and up, like a bizarre, cuboid snake. It climbed to a loft platform higher up, well out of range of his flowers, then turned to come back down to where it started. Once it returned he shrugged and stepped on. Even if things got a little less conventional, he wasn’t about to turn down a free ride.

Making use of the unusual blocks, panels, and other structural phenomena, Albedo steadily made his way to about the two-third mark.