Lugubrious

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Barney Rynsburger

As the others continued to regain their strength, Spindle sought to answer their follow-up questions as best she could. “Yeah, course there’s a way out,” she told Lorenzo as she crossed her arms, a hint of wryness visible in her encouraging smile. “Otherwise, tryin’ ta help folks would be a gosh-darn waste o’ time, ‘cause nobody can keep runnin’ and fightin’ forever. Lose yerself in here, and ya won’t be yerself for long. The Metaverse just ain’t where humans oughta be.” She cleared her throat, then looked between both Lorenzo and Jin and she hurriedly nodded. “But yeah, uh, focusin’ on the bright side, there’s a buncha ways out, in fact. Just gotta find ‘em, and get around anythin’ in the way. That’s my only mission right now.”

Lorenzo, understandably, seemed interested in Personas, although he had the wrong idea about how to obtain one. “Heavens, no, ya can’t even fight a Warlord if ya don’t got one, really.” She ran her fingers through her hair, scratching a nagging itch. “More like…stand up for yourself, I guess? It’s a li’l different for everyone, but when yer nemesis pushes ya to the breakin’ point, ya just gotta keep it together, and you’ll come out stronger.” Unsatisfied, however, Lorenzo kept on asking questions, and the police girl didn’t have answers for all of them. Who would they be fighting? “How the heck should I know? Nobody knows what you’re goin’ through better than you.”

The prevailing sentiment among the group seemed to be a strong aversion to any protracted campaign in the Metaverse, which Spindle regretted, but understood. It wasn’t easy to get by in this cognitive world even for a native, and she couldn’t imagine what was going through the minds of these poor people. As she looked around the spacious hotel lobby, she was glad at least to see that the food and drink left them feeling better. With all of them probably as good as they were going to get, she decided that there was no time like the present to proceed back out into the war-torn world. “Kay folks, now that we’ve had a good break, let’s get a move on before any unsavory types close in. C’mon!”

She took off toward the hotel’s double doors, situated on the north side, and Barney followed. Though he felt alright, all things considered, it was difficult for him to hide his concern for a couple of his new acquaintances. Several group members had elected to not eat or drink anything from the hotel, maybe from a sense of distrust or unwellness, and from the way the hobbled along he feared for them should they come into contact with more monsters. Hopefully, he thought, Spindle can get us to the exit nice and quietly. Although the doors ahead were chained, the glass around them was broken, and a little careful maneuvering the escapees could get through.

On the other side, however, a dangerous landscape awaited them. Without a parking lot of any kind as a cushion between it and the rest of the city, the hotel stood directly on the edge of a sprawling avenue in a state of incredible disarray. To Barney it looked straight out of any one of the innumerable post-apocalyptic movies that portrayed the ruin of civilization, with gutted and burnt-out buildings sagging like dying plants over streets carved into ribbons by a network of large furrows. In addition to the cars and trucks one might expect of a modern metropolis, cannons, tanks and other weapons of war lay here and there, with arrows and medieval weapons sprouting up all over like rusty wildflowers. It would have been intimidating enough if abandoned, but Barney could see plenty of Shadows out and about, whether fighting, wandering, hiding, or merely languishing. The bearded man took a deep breath.

“Welcome to the trenches.” Spindle put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the warzone. “For most folks, life is a constant battle. Even if they ain’t strugglin’ to make ends meet, day by day and week by week, they’ve got other problems.”

Closer inspection only made Barney feel worse, for it revealed woeful details like the unmarked graves, the chains and barbed wire that kept certain Shadows stuck in place, and the broken locks that would have otherwise connected two or more shadows together. “I mean, that makes sense. But why a battleground? Most people’s lives aren’t violent.”

The police girl shrugged. “Maybe, but they’re still hurtin’. A whole lotta folks are so focused on their own problems that they don’t end up givin’ a hoot about anyone else’s, even if they don’t mean it. Askin’ for help can sometimes be even tougher than gettin’ it. If people don’t help each other, they’re left to fend for themselves. Everyone fightin’ their battles all on their own.”

Barney wanted to say that sounded a little pessimistic, but honestly, what did he know? Part of the whole reason why he ended up in this mess was the assumption that everyone had it worse than him–that he didn’t need to burden them with his problems, or need any help to deal with them himself. Too many thoughts swirled around in his head about mankind, leaving a dense, heavy knot deep inside him. I need to focus on getting out here, he reasoned, trying to center himself.

“We ain’t goin’ through there, at least,” Spindle was saying. “The Shadows don’t like anyone bustin’ through their territory. We could fight through for a while, but in the end we’d be stuck in the trenches just like the rest.” She pointed at the sidewalk that ran to the right of the hotel, then turned to act as a border between the trenches and the row of waterfront buildings that ran alongside the edge of the canal. “Once we get off the street, we’ll take the high road. Might seem shut-up and closed off, like ya can’t get through, but they’re all connected. If ya got the right connections, you can get anywhere. A li’l shelter and stability goes a long way, huh?”

She summoned Odradek and climbed aboard. “I’ll be yer eye in the sky. Once yer inside the buildin’s, head north along the river. We’re aimin’ for a park up a ways, right in front o’ the business sector. Now git!”

At her urging Barney began to move. He broke out of the safety of the hotel’s threshold and ran along the sidewalk, like an exposed mouse skirting the wall in search of its hole. Nearby, the shadows along the trenches began to stir, as if noticing a potential threat about to invade. Ignoring them, Barney made for the nearest apartment, summoned his wheel when he grew near, and smashed through the locked wrought-iron fence to run up the stars. The front door featured no lock of any kind, and in just another moment Barney was inside. He turned and held the door for everyone else to hurry inside.

As one might expect given everything thus far, the interior of the apartment was a little weird. It seemed to be a multi-floor labyrinth of rooms that fit together like blocks in a doll house, lacking any coherent aesthetic. No matter which doors he or the others tried, they opened without issue, giving the newcomers access to ever more living rooms, bathrooms, bedrooms, studies, laundry rooms, and so forth. Only the windows on the left that gave a view of the trenches and the windows to the right that offered glimpses at the canal (and sometimes Spindle as she flew by) gave any sense of forward progress.

There were shadows around, too. Murky and indistinct, they lounged on couches in front of TVs, lay in beds, picked away at scraps at the dinner table, or engaged in any number of other ordinary activities. A second glance revealed, however, that much of what was going on here wasn’t quite right. The shadows behaved in an disturbingly repetitive manner, doing things like opening and closing appliances, banging on surfaces, or dancing together in perfect sync. Some reacted to their unwelcome guests’ presence, but slowly, as if in a trance, and Barney deciding to leave them to their business. “This place is creepy,” he murmured, skirting around the shadows as best he could. Still, it wasn’t long before the group ran into a few shadows determined to bar their way.

A group of four child-sized shadows sat on the floor in front of a door that the team needed to get through, smashing toys into one another. When they caught sight of Barney and the others, however, each one began to throw a tantrum, and in quick succession each exploded into a demon. From two of them, lucent Skyfish burst forth, while the other two became a scrawny, kangaroo-sized devil and a beady-eyed gremlin, respectively. “Play with us, play with us!” they cried. Barney inhaled sharply and brought out his wheel, counting on those of his fellow sufferers with Personas to do the same.

World of Light

It's always good to feel like one's characters matter in the world they're immersed in, especially when other PCs are concerned, so I'm sure nobody thinks that sentiment sounds silly. I'm glad you found some fulfillment there, and certainly hope that the next time you put your passion into a character, theirs is a happier -and much farther away- end.

World of Light

Ms Fortune

Location: Carcass Isle - Where All Things Must Come
Level 8 Nadia (15/80)
Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Hat Kid’s @Dawnrider, Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, Ace Cadet’s @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 2480

The moment that Nadia felt the ground underfoot begin to change, she made a mad dash back to the sanctuary of the nearest boulder. With every step the beach beneath her became more unstable and mucky, less like sand and more like a bog of tar. By the time the feral reached her shelter only a moment later, she needed to pull her leg free from the sticky black quagmire that would in just a matter of moments blanket the entirety of the Kosm’s accursed cove. The morass clutched at her so doggedly that she almost lost her foot to it in the process, and even after popping it back on she soon realized -from the slow ascent of her surroundings- that her refuge wouldn’t keep her safe for long. Grimacing, she bunched herself up and leaped over to the roof of one of the oyster-encrusted hovels that had arisen from below.
Nadia looked around in an effort to grasp the full scope of the changes to the beach, trying to get her bearings. Floating sea corpses, random stuff from around the island, and pitch-back tar. Everywhere. She took a deep breath. If her fears came to pass and the fight really wasn’t over, her team might be in for a seriously bad time. If not for a static and dependable battleground their slobberknocker with the Orphan so far might have gone very differently, and now it looked like the Seekers’ theater of war would be in constant flux. While the others could probably slog through the gunk, especially the tallest and most physically powerful among them, its viscosity limited movement to such a degree that fighting in the muck was basically impossible. “This is some raw-ass butt,” she concluded.

Naturally, it only got worse from there. She stared, paralyzed, as the Beached Thing made its presence known off the coast. Unlike the Orphan, a grisly affair of blood, guts, and twisted flesh that shambled and lunged like a horror movie monster, the BT appeared to be uncannily human in shape, normal except for the strands in place of fingers, the freaky umbilical cord, and the hands where a head ought to be. It walked like a man too, swinging its arms as it ambled toward the shore at what could only be described as a leisurely pace, as if it struggled with the molasses that now coated the beach too. Its cord writhed in a terribly disquieting manner as the creature dragged it along, like a worm in the water. Aside from its staggering size, it almost struck Nadia as something incapable of fighting, or even being fought, which in turn made it all the more ominous.

“You’ve gotta be kitten me,” she groaned, making the pun unconsciously. “That wasn’t even its final form? How’re we even supposed to fight this…this giant-ass ghost?” After taking a second to pull herself together, however, and hearing Link point out a significant silver lining, Nadia began to realize that this might actually not be that bad. In a way it even made sense; when she and the others challenged the Skullgirl back in the Dead Zone, she also evolved throughout the encounter, with her third and last phase the strangest. That form also moved around the least, making it an easy target if you could get past the utter pandemonium of her skeletal legions. After a quick breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, Nadia rolled her neck, then her shoulders, then stretched her arms. “The final stretch,” she murmured, a thin, wry smile on her face. With some of her vitality and stamina restored by her Nyawn, she stanced up, ready as she was going to get for one more round. If this thing was some kind of vengeful spirit, then it was past time the Seekers laid it to rest.

Nadia’s first order of business was to get up to the BT in order to hit it, since that eye over its heart looked like the mother of all weak spots, and Link’s idea gave her one, too. Remembering when the Hero of the Wild used that same lockdown power on his spear earlier, particularly the way it hurtled away with all the motive force it stored up while in stasis, she charged up her water purr-essure to rocket herself his way. As Link walloped the immobile boulder she sailed in to land on top of it, light enough on her feet that one punch from the swordsman was more than enough to counteract her impact. “Don’t mind me!” she told him with as cheery a wave as she could muster. “Just think of me as-?” She fell silent as the shriek of Bella’s leviathan tail heralded the departure of a railgun shot, aimed for the BT’s heart. Owing to the instability of the rowboat beneath her, however, the Abyssal’s shell missed the mark, and slammed into the eidolon’s shoulder, producing a burst of inky, icky tar. “Think of me as-” Nadia tried again, only to be drowned out a second time by a tremendous, deep reverberation, a long and bassy groan almost like the lowing of primeval cattle. It swept over the beach like a gust of wind, playing at the startled feral’s ears and hair alike. She swallowed. “As a…cat-apult,” she finished, and not a moment too soon. The rapid blinking of the boulder beneath her culminated in a shattering of its illusory chains, and very abruptly both rock and rider hurtled away.

When it came to hitting the eye Link aimed well, but not perfectly. His makeshift projectile flew on a collision course toward the vicinity of the lower sternum, and at about the halfway point Nadia sprang off the rock, revving up her right forearm like a drill as she cruised in on borrowed momentum. A burst of vital fluid pushed her faster still, although less-than-ideal aim and timing caused her to overshoot her target, and just a heartbeat later she plunged her arm into the monster’s left bicep. Behind her the boulder strunk the BT’s chest hard enough to stagger it, and with glee the cat burglar carved into the viscous flesh she’d landed on.

Instantaneously her arm started to slow down, and before Nadia knew it she was stuck, buried up to the elbow in the gunk. “Uh oh,” muttered, trying to pull her limb loose, only to find out after repeated attempts that she couldn’t get free without leaving a part of her behind. Even worse, when she braced against the BT’s body to try and yank her arm out, her shins and left palm got stuck, too. “Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh.” As her mind raced for any solution, the titan’s lowing drew her attention upward, where she spotted a host of creepy jellyfish-things floating out like balloons from the pit of the BT’s neck. They began to spread over the beach, and as they drifted, the monster began its attack. It lifted its ten finger-strands from the water, revealing a human hand on the end of each, and whipped them toward the gathered heroes like enormous cat-o-nine-tails. Some flailed around with closed fists, but others reached out with open hands, seeking to seize hold of whatever Seekers they could and reel them in for consumption.

The BT’s attack posed an even greater problem for Nadia. When it moved its arm, Nadia moved with it, and when it changed directions it jerked her hard enough to drive her even deeper into the muck. As the side of her head splatted against its body, stuck fast, her brain went haywire from fear. “Nyaaaagh!” she yowled, and from her blue blood she created two copycats to help extract her from the colossal mire. It was then that the feral’s luck took a turn for the better, for the moment the doubles jammed their hands into the goop, it began to sizzle and steam like fat in a frying pan. They went on the offensive, clawing away at the BT’s bizarre flesh until it was weak enough for Nadia to wrench herself out with all her parts intact. Realizing that the turnabout must have something to do with her blood, she planted her feet against the giant’s arm, re-absorbed her copycats and put all that hydropower into a massive double eruption from her legs. The next second she blasted off, leaving a messy crater behind in the nightmare’s bicep as she swooped back down toward the beach.

She struck one of the tar-balloons on the way down, causing it to rupture explosively. The trauma stunned her, rendering her totally unable to optimize her landing. All she could do as she fell, dangerously close to unconsciousness, was hope that one of her allies managed to catch her.

Her comrades did not let her down. “Oof!” she grunted as she came to a stop in Geralt’s strong arms. “My hero,” she gasped, clapping her hand on the Witcher’s shoulder by way of thanks. While she wouldn’t have minded coming to a stop in Ace’s embrace instead, which would have put the shoe on the other foot from earlier, she wasn’t about to be picky when it came to saving her skin. After a brief moment Geralt set her down on solid ground, and as the BT’s strands came whipping their way, they split up once again. Nadia ended up on top of another shack, where she looked up at the Bt to see the extent of the damage. What she found left her disappointed. The hole she’d blown in its arm had already scabbed over with golden crystal, and despite taking an enormous hunk of solid stone to the chest, the BT seemed pretty much fine. Unless the team could crystallize every inch of the colossus and turn it into one big, gaudy statue, it seemed like they would need to target that repulsive eye specifically. That, unfortunately, was a task easier said than done, especially with the diaspora of their enemy’s Gas Bags over the beach.

The team’s ranged fighters had a better time of it, especially Kamek with her snipers. With spell, arrow, or bullet they could blow up the gas bags from afar, and plug away at the eye from a safe distance while avoiding the BT’s strands without too much trouble. Before they could get too comfortable, however, it revealed another nasty trick. With a wave of its arms it hurled handfuls of golden, goopy humanoids that homed in on their targets, curving through the air like wraiths from beyond. Though vulnerable to being shot down themselves, those living missiles aimed to tackle the Seekers from their perches and into the tar, where they could try to drag them beneath.

Still panting, Nadia bent over again, her hands on her knees as she shook her head in frustration. Not every crazy idea was meant to be, and even if it couldn’t be called a disaster, her latest stunt had taken a lot out of her. Now, with no good way to attack this thing owing to her close range and flagging stamina, she found herself up the creek without a paddle. But she couldn’t just sit back and let the others struggle without her. Think, you stupid cat, think, she thought, glancing around. There has to be something, anything…!

Movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and she glanced over with a snarl. “What now!?” She spotted four dark shapes waving at her as they stood in the tar, murky and indistinct, and for a moment she couldn’t tell what she was looking at. Something about them bothered her, however–some inexplicable familiarity. The cat burglar looked closer, the giant BT all but forgotten. She crouched on the edge of her shack's roof, squinting, but even then it took her another couple seconds to recognize what stood before her.

When she did, Nadia fell to her knees, her mouth hung ever-so-slightly ajar. For the first time in untold years, tears welled up in her eyes. Those four figures, those Dagonians…one tall and chiseled, one long and lean, one broad and boisterous, one squat and surly. Just the same as she remembered them from that old drawing, one of the few mementos that withstood the test of time. As she stared, spellbound and speechless, the broad one hucked something at her. Though lobbed underhanded and slow, it bounced off the feral’s forehead before dropping right down into her hands. She glanced down to see a small container with a number of pinkish grubs floating around inside, with a label that read LIVE CRYPTOBIOTES - FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION. She looked back up to see the thrower laughing. The familiarity of his raucous guffaws, so strong that they just about bent him over, caused her tears to run down her cheeks–even if she couldn’t hear them now, she remembered just what they sounded like. The others threw their gifts one at a time, and Nadia caught them all. From the tall one she received a box that jangled as if full of coins, from the skinny one she got frame housing a collapsed weapon of some kind, and from the squat one she was somehow not at all surprised to receive a six-pack of beer. Timefall porter, she read. When she looked up again Nadia saw the four men turn away, as if to leave. “Wait!” she cried, springing to her feet. “Don’t go! I have so much to tell you! I…” Powerless to do anything, she could only watch as the Dagonian thieves disappeared one by one. The broad one saluted, the skinny one bowed, the tall one blew a kiss and finally, after a moment of glowering, the squat one cracked a side-grin. He winked, waved goodbye, and was gone.

“You jerks.” Nadia’s head fell, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Always got places to…to be, h-huh? Couldn’t spare your…your little girl any more time?” she whispered, her voice cracking as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “Well…I can’t explain it. Not even a li’l bit. But ya gave me somethin’ precious. Then…and now.” At the press of a button the collapsed firearm expanded to its full size, bursting out of the frame in the process. Nadia planted her feet and took aim, wincing for only a moment as the gun drew a measure of blood from her to load. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna waste it.” Even if she’d never used a gun before, they all operated on a similar principle: aim and pull the trigger. And with a target this big, how could she miss?

World of Light

If that's how you feel, I'm not going to suggest otherwise.

World of Light

@Lugubrious Hey Lu is it cool if I sorta just timeskip and have the two be in the town where Raiden is?

@Dark Cloud

Going down the mountain can be treacherous and take a while even with a glider, which is not made for two people, but I'm sure the kids can manage. Just as a heads up I'm currently doing a collab with Raiden.

World of Light

Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

Location: Sandswept Sky - Graveyard of the Peaks
Level 9 Tora (142/90) Level 9 Poppi (142/90) Level 5 Big Band (80/50)
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Raz’s @TruthHurts22, the Phantom Thieves, Braum, and the Scout
Word Count: 3455

Eyes as wide as saucers, Big Band blinked a couple times just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but no matter how much he might wish otherwise there was no mistaking it. In the space of just a few moments amidst the turbulent tempest, the three Phantom Thieves who’d fallen behind had completely and utterly disappeared, without a single trace. “Good heavens,” he breathed, his mind racing to figure out what happened, but at every turn his train of thought hit a dead end. It seemed impossible that the same storm front which only battered the rest of the Seekers managed to hurl those downwind from the slope, or leave them buried beneath the snow, even if all three of them gave up the ghost and collapsed simultaneously. Yet they were gone all the same.

For those who remained, disbelief, astonishment, and woe ran amuck. After staring down for a few seconds in horror, Tora glanced at Poppi, silently imploring her for any reassurance her keen sensors might be able to offer, but she shook her head. Several team members made ready to race downhill in search of their vanished friends, but before any more barely-warm bodies could tumble through the stupefyingly cold snow, cooler heads prevailed. Therion stopped Primrose before she could begin her descent, and though none of the others could hear their urgent exchange through the ceaseless caterwaul of snowstorm, they could reach the same conclusions. The Seekers stood knee-deep in a haystack that extended as far as anyone could see in every direction, and in these conditions searching for three needles would demand far more time and energy than they had.

Tora’s head swam, not just from the piercing chill that seemed to numb his very brain, but from the unfairness of it all. In his heart of hearts he knew that if he wanted to make it through, he didn’t have much of a choice at all, but clinging to that justification only made him feel worse. An awful weight had come to rest in his guts, coagulated from the guilt he felt for spurring everyone onward. Not for a second did he believe that anyone would actually falter in this decisive final stretch of their journey–how could such a horrible, ignominious thing happen to such awesome heroes, after all? Now, however, the Nopon was beginning to realize that he’d made a terrible mistake. His friends were not safe. Poppi wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe. He began to shake, wondering how many more would disappear before the party reached their destination. How many more gone, lost in the blizzard, just like that?

Though almost as rattled as their naive Nopon defender, the remaining Thieves managed to keep their despair at bay. Like Primrose they looked to their navigator for guidance, knowing that if anyone could offer any clue to their friends’ conditions or whereabouts, it was Necronomicon. Sure enough, the Persona had already kicked her scanners and diagnostics into overdrive, pinging the snowfield again and again in a flurry of activity. Just seconds later the results were in, checked and rechecked, and using the Thieves’ radio channel she relayed her findings. “I’m not picking up anything within a couple hundred meters, and my transmissions to them didn’t complete, prolly ‘cause of the storm! They’re not anywhere around here!”

Brows furrowed, Joker nodded repeatedly. “Okay. Okay. That means they either b-blew down the mountain and can glide to safety, or s-s-something took them.”

“You th-think M-master Hand left something in the storm, after all?” Though only a couple feet away from his friend, Fox’s voice only came through clearly thanks to their communication line.

“Maybe. Might be what h-happened to the others, too. P-picking us off one by one. Whatever the case, we’ve g-gotta keep moving.”

Joker waved his arm, signaling the team to keep moving. Band raised an eyebrow as if to ask if the teenager was sure. After a stiff nod he replied in kind, turned, and began to spearhead the uphill slog once more. Anger at the kids’ disappearance infused the detective with an adrenaline shot of defiant determination, and unwilling to lose anyone else, he took a deep breath. “Guess I gotta play over you.” He put his lips to his mouthpiece, and his soul into his music. His saxophone blared out in revolt against the snowstorm, fighting back against its howl with a strident symphony of jazz, pitting sweet blues against the tide of bitter white that sought to drown him out. The world around him, already rendered claustrophobic by the storm that closed in around him, shrunk even further as he squeezed his eyes shut, rendering him blind even to the allies that pushed doggedly onward alongside him. Nothing existed but his solo, a grave procession of rhythms and footfalls taken one at a time. Too focused to count the minutes, he played on and on, step by step and note by note, until the one-man-band finally ran out of breath.

Covered in snow and frozen stiff, unable to take another step, Band pulled his chapped lips from his mouthpiece at last. His eyes opened one last time, peering upward into the wind at the split peak. For all his herculean effort, it seemed no closer. Just like always. The corners of his mouth twisted into a wry smile. Whether against injustice or the elements, no one man could soldier onward forever. At this final hour it all came to nothing, his noble aspirations unfulfilled, the sad story of his life wrapped up in another unhappy ending. Had his purpose, his old-fashioned visions of truth and justice, service and protection, all been an exercise in futility?

No. Nobody lasted forever. Every journey had its end, and wherever that might be, it didn’t mean that the journey had been meaningless. As he sank to his knees in the snow, the man once known as Ben Birdland felt oddly at peace. Like he could pass on content in the knowledge that he stuck to his guns the whole way through–that he held high the word of law, no matter how far it might have fallen. He only regretted not making it through to the end. “Salt…” he grunted, lamenting the mischief that Peacock would no doubt get up to in his absence. “...peanuts.” Then he fell, face-first in the snow, and was still.

The loud metallic slam made Tora jump. He loosened his death grip on Poppi Alpha for a moment to look back for the first time in ages, and saw where Band had collapsed. For a moment he stood there in the roaring wind and cruel cold, mouth agape, before what he was seeing really began to sink in. Aside from the detective, there was no sign of…anyone. Not Primrose and Therion, not Joker and Fox, not Raz, not Sectonia, and not Braum. “F-f-friends?” he quavered, the voice that welled within him feeble. “Friends!?” he then called, louder and more fearful, desperately scanning the snowstorm for even the vaguest silhouette of one of his allies who’d surely just fallen behind.

But nobody came.

“...Meh-meh,” Tora gulped. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be the last one standing, having outlasted the others purely by virtue of his robust constitution. Fading fast, he turned to his companion and pressed himself against her, desperate for any modicum of heat. “Poppi. Poppi!” he wept, tears welling up in his eyes. “Everyone gone. Everyone! We only ones left! Poppi, you hear? It just you and…and…”

Her ether furnace was cold. Speechless, Tora stared up at Poppi’s expressionless face. She was offline.

“P..P…Poppi?” he stammered, cold tears streaming from his eyes to freeze on his fuzzy, frost-bitten cheeks. “No. No! Come back, Poppi! There have to be more ether! Please turn on Poppi, don’t leave me! Don’t leave Tora…alone…” The Nopon sagged to the ground, his muscles limp. With his last conscious thought, he nudged his head against Poppi’s leg. Then his eyes slid shut.

When he opened them again, he found himself surrounded by dreamlike stillness. Beneath him he found a glowing white expanse, and above him a swirling gray sky. It wasn’t hot, or cold, or anything. He felt weirdly fine. Great, even, as if he’d just woken up from a nice, long nap. No pain or fatigue or discomfort of any kind troubled him. “Meh, meh meh? Is Tora…dead!?” A little groggy and very confused, he put his wings against the ground and pushed himself up. His gaze fell on the backs of six robed figures, facing away from him, and before his eyes they faded away. As they disappeared, they left behind a dim, distant light in the sky that flickered like a star, drawing Tora’s attention. He squinted, trying to make it out, until he realized that it must be the mountain’s split peak.

Then two arms grasped him from behind and hauled him into the air. “Meh meh meh!” he yelped, struggling for a moment until he felt himself pressed against a familiar chest. As the arms squeezed him tight in a hug craned his neck around to see the face of Poppi QT Pi, her core ablaze with the vivid orange of ether. A golden glow surrounded her body, and after a brief moment Tora realized it was on him, too. “Poppi!” he cried, seconds away from bursting into tears of joy. “Tora thought he lost you! What the heck going on!?”

Some sort of power seemed to be welling up around them. The artificial blade glanced up through the clouds at the far-off light, and tightened her grasp around her creator’s middle. “Poppi have no idea, but Masterpon should brace himself!”

“Brace!? Brace for what!?”

The next second he and Poppi launched skyward, zooming up at a breakneck pace. “Meeeeeeeeeeeh!” Tora cried, both his and Poppi’s hair and clothes whipped into a frenzy by the wind, as the pair left the mountainside behind. Together they shot up into a swirling tunnel of storm clouds, like surfers in the tube of a wave. As they ascended, both became aware of other golden lights soaring in the same direction ahead of them. One was close enough that the dynamic duo was able to catch up, and as they circled around the blazing trail it left behind they recognized Big Band in his rocket form. Delighted to see the detective alive and well, Tora waved at him, and Band tipped his hat in reply.

Not even bothering to ask if he knew anything and just along for the ride now, Tora turned his attention back to the light at the end of the tunnel. Green flashes in the stormclouds illuminated dark shapes as they cut through, like sharks in the water. Only after a couple broke through into the vortex could the Nopon really make them out, although they still didn’t quite make sense. Though shaped like great six-winged serpents, each blocky body was segmented into a series of stony pieces, and from each head shone a single ferocious searchlight. The creatures veered dangerously close, but Poppi didn’t seem able to change course, so with no other options, Tora held on for dear life. Well before the Guardian could strike them, however, a brilliant green beam slammed into its body, blasting it out of the way. Tora peered in the direction of the source, but got only the briefest glimpse at a familiar figure clad in white before he and Poppi were long gone. With Big Band just ahead of them, the duo continued to speed upward, higher and higher through the thickening haze, until finally…

They reached the sky.

---

The Apex of the World

In a puff of fluffy vapor, Tora and Poppi emerged from the clouds, and even without needing to breathe the artificial blade shared her Masterpon’s gasp of amazement. They found themselves struck dumb by the sight of pristine mountains that rose like islands from a sea of clouds beneath the clearest, bluest sky that either of them had ever seen, tinged only on one side by the colors of the coming sunset. It was so like their home of Alrest that a flood of memories swept over them, leaving both quite unable to speak. Frosted peaks sparkled like jewels in that late afternoon radiance, so dazzlingly bright that Tora had to rub his eyes. A procession of spires led toward a grand ring of lesser peaks, arranged like an ancient council around a vast basin, and over that primeval conclave loomed the uncontested eminence of the mountain’s summit: the split peak whose inexplicable effulgence could be seen from every corner of the Sandswept Sky.

No matter how far either Tora or Poppi looked in any other direction, they could find no other solid ground, but the clouds formed breathtaking vistas of their own. They did, however, manage to spot distant islands that floated in the empty air, as well as the majestic temples and towering citadels. For now though, they focused on the objective before them. Still empowered by the golden glow, Poppi soared after Big Band, following the flat-top spires like stepping stones. They made for the vast crimson gate that stood atop the last spire, for around its pillars they spotted a group of familiar figures. Elated beyond description, Tora and Poppi cruised straight there, and after only a few moments they touched down.

“Hey, hey! Took ya guys long enough!” Skull greeted them, a big grin plastered across his face. He and Panther sat together on a rock, holding hands while Mona sat at their feet, trying not to look dejected.

After a brofist of epic proportions with Big Band, Braum stomped over to sweep Tora and Poppi onto his shoulders, wearing a smile so warm it was hard to believe the snow wasn’t melting. “Aha, welcome, little ones! I am so very, very glad to see everyone safe and sound!” Indeed, a quick head count turned up each and every Seeker who had undertaken the climb. Save one.

A moment later, however, a grappling hook attached to the edge of the platform, and the next second the Scout appeared. He looked cold, exhausted, and thoroughly miserable, with no sign of the golden aura that clung to everyone else. Seeing everyone, his jaw dropped in astonishment, and he plopped down into a sitting position. “Bloody hell, how’d you lot beat me up here!?”

Joker blinked. “Did you…climb up here on your own?”

“Well, I used me ol’ grappler, plus Engie’s platform gun, but yeh, pretty much,” the dwarf replied. “Could really go for a beer right now.”

“At this point, I ain’t even gonna question it,” Band sighed. “I sure as hell can’t explain it, but I’m groovin’ high like a new man. Never flown like that before, either.”

Though confused as everyone else, Necronomicon offered her diagnosis. “It looks like everyone’s in peak condition, somehow! No wounds, no hypothermia, nothing. Plus, I’m detecting some kind of buff. Must be how everyone flew up here.”

Panther nodded. “Yeah, like, one minute I was dying in the blizzard, and the next my glider opens up all on its own. Me, Skull, and Mona just fwooshed straight to the top, right past all these crazy giant rock snakes.”

“We saw Ram!” Tora supplied. “She help clear way for us with biggy-big lasers, meh!”

Fox appeared contemplative. “So, it was some sort of test, after all. When we faltered in our attempt to reach the summit, we received some sort of vision, then got flown up to the top. Rather poetic, in a way. Would that I had my paints with me.” He held out his fingers in two L-shapes, putting them together to form a rectangle that he swept over the scenery. “This environment really is quite remarkable.”

“Considering how high we are, I thought it would be colder, but it actually quite nice,” Poppi observed, her arms crossed. “Poppi certainly not complain. All well that end well, I suppose?”

Skull looked annoyed. “I dunno, as challenges go, that one was pretty bullshit. I mean, just plod up a mountain until you keel over to win?”

“Yeah, that was pretty unintuitive,” Mona agreed. “Good thing we’re all stupid.”

“Speak for yourself,” Band gruffed. “Whatever the case, we ain’t there just yet.” He pointed toward the nearest lesser peak, joined to the spire where everyone rested by a bridge of brown cloth. “Now that we’re all here and fightin’-fit, we oughta boogie on over there. Our head honcho’s just around the corner.”

Once everyone had their bearings, the whole troop could proceed. While the cloth bridge didn’t look like it could support the weight of Tora, let alone Big Band and Braum, the golden glow that still shone from the ascendants caused runes to light up along its length, and over the rippling fabric they could flow without issue. After making their way across, the heroes could make their way up a spiraling incline to a rocky pass between two of the ring’s peaks. Everyone knew to keep an eye out for the region boss, but the view that opened up before them took them by surprise.

Within the ring of peaks, between them and the split summit, lay an enormous basin, perfectly and unnaturally circular, with walls of dark bronze rather than stone. Manmade patterns emblazoned its interior, particularly the likenesses of men seized by suffering and grief. A great many bridges criss-crossed its span, reaching out from the edges or suspended from great chains, although the two sturdiest bridges lay across its top in a tremendous plus sign. Even from this here, four oxidized bronze statues of men could be seen on the bridge, one on each of the spokes that met at the center, and all held great chains of their own. It was so much to take in that the frontrunners almost didn’t notice a wizened, bent-over figure standing among the stones at the end of the pass until he spoke.

“O itinerant ones!” he hailed, drawing the Seekers’ attention. When they looked they found an old man, his ankles bound together by ropes and his hands tied behind his back, stooped by the weight of the jar that hung from his neck. “We traverse strange roads under the same firmament. My name is Redento, barefoot pilgrim of the Order of Genuflectors. Prithee taketh nay affront in my not looking at thy visage, for we at each moment lean forth, so as not to divert our eyes from the path. Such is our olde precept.”
He gestured to the metal basin before them. “We are before Jondo, the great buried bell, erected upside down so that its ringing would make the earth tremble and reach distant lands. Now Jondo resoundeth in a deep triune moan, that traveleth in echoes through its broad spiraling circles.”
Suddenly overcome by sorrow, he hung his head even further. “My feet wish to cross to the other side of this ancient valley to move onto the next destination. But I dare not venture forth, lest the creature knock me from the precipice. Oh, my sins! Who could help me?”
“Creature?” Big Band glanced out across Jondo. “What creature, old timer?”

Redento flicked his head. “There. Look!”

As he spoke, a shadow emerged from behind the eastern lesser peaks. It was a flying leviathan, its color like the desert sands, eel-like with its many winglike fins and odd protuberances. Three immense gas bladders allowed it to float, while four gleaming sunset-red eyes stared listlessly down at the great bell, and with a deep, low groan the beast began to circle. It took a second to get a grasp of its sheer size; each wing had to measure at least sixty feet in length, and the width of its body could support four cars driving side by side. Despite its vast size and bizarre biology it flew with an odd grace, the lazy circle it wove through the air devoid of hostility. There could be no doubt that this serpentine colossus was the monster glimpsed from the desert below, and the Guardian that the heroes had come to slay.

Ms Fortune

Location: Carcass Isle - Where All Things Must Come
Level 7 Nadia (79/70)
Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Hat Kid’s @Dawnrider, Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, Ace Cadet’s @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 1425

For the second time a monsoon of lightning crackled across the beach, and though it spread out from Blazermate’s position like a ripple on a pond to rage throughout the whole area, it wasn’t taking anyone by surprise this time. Opportunistic as ever and eager to save whatever she could of her flagging stamina, Nadia figured she’d make use of the devastation her enemy wrought earlier. On all fours she raced the wave to reach the spot where one of the boulders that the Orphan sundered from the craggy cliffside came to rest. With the gravitational reduction still very much in effect, she didn’t even need to let off a spurt of blue blood to pounce right up on top of the rock, and when the electric tide surged through her area a moment later, the feral remained high and dry. Confident that she’d be protected both going and coming from another nasty electrocution, she heaved a sigh of profound relief, and after a much-needed Nyawn to kickstart her recovery ndia turned her attention to her allies.

While Rika wiped out and Junior couldn’t help out until he got healed, everyone else managed to clear the shockwave, and together the wrathful band of heroes closed in on their loathsome adversary. Nadia was glad to see the Hero of the Wild back on his feet again, and Link did not disappoint. He led the charge into the shallows with a cannonade of Abyssal artillery and a blood-curdling scream that scared Nadia a lot more than any of the Orphan’s, seizing the monster’s attention while his comrades followed in his footsteps. Geralt’s long stride meant he joined the melee right on the smaller hero’s heels, his silver sword eager to claim its prize at last. After pulling off a sweet pole vault, Ace hurried after them, teamed up with an ice-bound Hat Kid once again to deal some serious damage. Even Mimi lent a hand or two, empowered by Kamek’s sorcery into a shadow force to be reckoned with. And as if that wasn’t enough, the sight of her fellow catgirl back in action filled Nadia with joy. Sakura leaped up from the mucky crater where the Orphan laid her to rest with barely a scratch on her, taking the distraught Bella so utterly by surprise that the she almost fell over backward, but once the Street Fighter got a move on the ecstatic Seaplane Tender joined her without a second thought.

Seeing everyone come together for the final bout, despite all the physical and mental pain they’d endured, today filled Nadia with exhilaration, piercing through the fatigue that weighed her down to stoke her inner fire. “Kick its gnarly ass, ya goddamn heroes!” she cheered, pumping her fists, and the heroes bent their efforts to the task.

Once Link paved the way with his Cryonis rune, he started off with a bang. His jawbreaker slammed into the Orphan’s mouth, shattering more than a few of its baby teeth, and as the nightmare reeled from the counterhit the rest of the Seekers descended on it with everything they had. What Link knocked up, Ace hammered down, and though it trashed around in the water Geralt’s argent blade danced through the storm, carving through muscle and gristle alike as he weathered its wanton fury. The grievous wounds he left behind made tempting targets for Mimi’s claws of darkness, whose savage mauling left the Orphan in such exquisite pain that it lashed out in blind fury. Yet even as they pressed their advantage in a whirlwind of shadow and steel, a flurry of activity so intense that Nadia could barely follow it, the Seekers watched out for one another. As Geralt stepped back, Ace went on the defensive, and Mimi withdrew, enough space opened up for Sakura to make her move.

She announced her return with a spectacular footstool-jump-turned-flip. As she hung in the air above it the Orphan craned its bloody, battered head upward, its jaw loosely flapping beneath baleful, soulless eyes. It began to move, but from the side Bella’s leviathan lunged forward to close its fearsome jaws around the nightmare’s eviscerated torso to hold it still. Then Sakura descended to mete out the death sentence that she pronounced. Her superlative divekick cannoned straight into the spinal cord exposed from its knotted flesh, and with a sickening crunch she ended what Geralt’s well-aimed chop had begun. The next second Sakura hit the ground, sliding to a stop in a spray of wet sand, and behind her the headless cadaver of the Orphan of Kos fell to its knees. It reeled limply backward one last time, as if seeking succor from the sky it could no longer see, then toppled forward into the shallow tidewater. Its gruesome husk exploded on contact, reduced to an ashy goop that fell over the beach like so much rain.

For a moment Nadia waited, scarcely daring to breathe. Then she slid down off her rock to patter across the sand, joining her allies at the water’s edge. For once, the feral was silent, since what was there to say? No words from her felt appropriate to cap off such an awful, despicable, egregious experience. Yet for all the abomination’s eldritch, unholy power, she and the other Seekers had beaten it. They were dirty, wounded, exhausted, and probably scarred for life, but they won. It would be a while before they could feel good about it, but still.

Having limped over, Peach put a hand on the shoulders of the nearest compatriots, those being Link and Junior. “Congratulations, everyone. This victory was hard-fought, to say the least, but at the end of it all we’re one step closer to achieving our goal. To saving not this world, but every world, and every soul between them. That is something worth savoring.” The princess gave a weak smile. “And I, for one, can’t imagine things getting any worse than that.” She glanced over at Nadia, curious as to why the feral seemed to be picking through the shallows where the Orphan had fallen. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, uh,” Nadia cleared her throat, a little embarrassed. “Well, just looking for loot, you know. That’s how these things work, right?”

“Sort of,” Peach replied, creasing her brow. Her expression darkened. “In…in fact…did anyone happen to, er…pick up its spirit?”

Blinking, Nadia looked around, but instead of a spirit she found something else. She stared quizzically at the body of a crab that seemed to be floating above the water. It levitated up into the air as if unaffected by gravity, but a pitch black cord hung down from its middle into the shallows. All around, corpses of small animals and globules of a tarlike substance were rising into the air. Nadia’s ears suddenly stood up straight, the hairs on the back of her neck on end and goosebumps breaking out across her skin. She sprang to her feet. “Somethin’s happenin’,” she hissed as her wide eyes swept across the beach. “Somethin’s very, very wrong…”

All across the beach, inky pools were welling up, turning the black sand into glossy, sticky tar. Fog had rolled in across the impossible sea, even though Nadia could feel no wind on her wet skin. She swallowed, and watched as some of the boulders scattered across the beach by the Orphan began to sink. In other places entirely new objects rose from the muck, rowboats, rafts, wagons and doors, all as briny and encrusted as everything in the fishing village, until the dilapidated roofs of a few whole buildings poked through. A slight but profoundly disquieting noise pivoted her ears behind her, and in a fright Nadia turned in the direction of the huge white corpse from which the Orphan had arisen. For a moment she frozen in terror, her eyes fixed on the vaguely humanoid shadow that hung above the beached cadaver. Then it was gone, and from the fog over the water beyond the shore, a tarry colossus appeared. Its fingers were but strands that extended into the water like dredge lines, an umbilical cord hung from its belly, and rather than a head, only a nest of grasping hands sprang from its shoulders. At its heart was a patch of golden crystal, from which a collapsed eye gazed drunkenly outward. The titan stood at least seven stories high, motionless for only a moment, before it slowly began to wade toward the shore.

World of Light

Such a fast face-turn is somewhat surprising. I would think that he'd go to try and save Flonne instead of running after the Seekers?

World of Light

Since there's nothing more for me to manage between her and Laharl, the rest is up to you on your time

World of Light

You could have her just break the window and jump through? The reason she was trapped was more because there was nowhere else she could go for shelter and warmth rather than the convent being a prison.

World of Light

Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

Location: Sandswept Sky - Graveyard of the Peaks
Level 9 Tora (138/90) Level 9 Poppi (138/90) Level 5 Big Band (76/50)
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Raz’s @TruthHurts22, the Phantom Thieves, Braum, and the Scout
Word Count: 1581

To walk forward was a simple thing, but as the gathered group took the first steps of their arduous final ascent, they knew that this time it would not be easy. None of them, however, marched forth under any delusions about the task ahead. This may well be their most grueling challenge so far, the coldly impersonal elements of Split Mountain a more terrifying foe than Megadragonbowser, the Ender Dragon, or the rebels of Al Mamoon. But in their unity the Seekers of Light could be one another’s strength, the heroes that Master Hand challenged them to be, and overcome even the tallest mountains set before them. So they walked, pushing and shoving and plodding through the snow, their V formation leaving behind a streak of trenches carved through the heavy carpet of light like the musical score that flowed so adamantly from the instrument on Big Band’s back.

The wind buffeted them, rigorous and relentless. It forced the climbers to lean into it and ply their strength, their every footfall a small achievement in its own right. At irregular intervals, every few minutes or so, the blizzard would quicken to such an extent that no progress at all could be made. The Seekers could only hunker down, shield themselves, and endure for seconds that seemed like hours until the gale subsided to less unmanageable levels. The issues with linking hands the whole way through would become apparent early on, for the vast morphological differences among a number of party members made it regrettably unfeasible. For fear of their friends soaring away into the snowstorm, close-knit subgroups like the Phantom Thieves, Octopath Travellers, or Tora and Poppi continued to hold together, but the rest had to focus on holding formation instead, and praying that nobody disappeared.

It was impossible to gauge how much time passed, or how far the climbers got. The radiant rift in the peak above never seemed to get closer. At times it would seem like the team wasn’t making any progress at all, if not for the reassurance of the trail left behind, and the tombstones passing by. Knowing that any deviations or delays could lead to one or more party members joining them, nobody stopped to inspect, loot, or pay respects to the fallen, other than to grab on to an opportunistic handhold, maybe. Whether or not that handhold snapped off under the duress of holding someone’s weight against the wind was another matter.

Gradually, the Seekers realized more and more of the truth behind Master Hand’s decision to spawn no enemies for them, for the blizzard itself attacked them like a living thing. It howled, it bit, it roared, and it stung. At times outcroppings of stone rose to the left and the right, their surfaces carved by unknown hands into mournful faces with frozen tiers, and across their contours the wind twisted into strange cadences, oddly suggestive of a wild and half-sentient piping, as if the mountain itself sang the heroes’ funeral dirge. It seemed to Tora like the faces were staring at him, waiting for him to fall like vultures. Those stupid faces will be disappointed. Whoever put them there won’t scare me!, he insisted to himself, grabbing hold of any spite that would help fuel his next step forward, and the next.

After some time, Big Band realized that no more landmarks seemed to be forthcoming. The stone faces stopped, and even the steady smattering of tombstones petered out. Snow fell hard and fast, piling up on the his shoulders and hat, as well as on the hoods and head of everyone around him. Behind them, their tracks vanished within minutes. It was as if the team had left the mountain behind, and become trapped in a void of withering cold, a white abyss where no sign existed of progress either forward or back. His face numbed by the cold, Band lifted his vision to the slope before him, peering past frosted eyelashes for any sign of either Midna or Fox. But just like every time before, there were none to be found. With no other options at this point but to trust in them, though, he grit his teeth and pushed on.

The loss of landmarks, however, seemed to precipitate a new degree of turbulence in the storm. The beast of the winds lashed out with ever greater fury, and after a certain point its teeth weren’t just biting at the heroes, but ripping at them. Rips and tears began to form in their protective gear as the wind sliced into their scarves, their coats, and the borrowed cloaks from the Tostarena sports store. Entire strips and shreds of cloth and stuffing disappeared into the storm, including Primrose’s scarf, and as the heroes’ defenses broke down the cold flooded in.

As conditions and the collective team health continued to deteriorate, stress began to mount, even for the team members most acclimatized to extreme conditions. It wasn’t too long before the short-tempered Scout decided he’d had enough. His environmental suit had been the difference between life and death in the depths of Hoxxes IV’s Glacial Strata and Magma Core, and to feel it being cut to pieces around him pushed him over the edge. “Roight, bugger this!” he declared, reaching down to his gear. He yanked loose his pickaxe and grapple gun, took aim, and fired it up the mountain. The moment it snagged on the stone beneath the snow he zipped off. When he arrived he smashed his pick into the ground for purchase while his grapple gun re-pressurized, then repeated in the process. In no time at all it was gone, blitzing through the blizzard with the remarkable power of Deep Rock’s industrial technology.

Many of his fellows, however, neither saw nor heard him leave. They were having troubles of their own. The frigid wind that numbed Mona’s paws also meant that he didn’t feel himself slipping from his grasp around Braum’s neck until it was just a little too late. “Can’t…hold on!” he gasped, straining his near-nonexistent muscles, until he lost hold. He yowled in fear and, on instinct, sank his claws into the Freljordian’s shoulders in a desperate attempt to avoid sailing off into the storm.

“Hrrk!” Braum jerked in pain and surprise.

“I’m sorry!” Mona cried, his eyes streaming tears.

“It’s…okay!” Though the big man tried to reassure his hanger-on, the sudden attachment hurt a lot, and for all his valor Braum wasn’t doing so hot himself. While he fought through the pain as best he could, Mona came to a worrisome realization. Braum’s natural defense meant his claws didn’t sink that deep. While the rest of him flapped like a flag, the wind worked him free, and after only a couple more moments the little thief popped out in a spray of Braum’s blood.

“Nyaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!” he cried as he hurtled backward, his scream washed away by the wind. Spotting him, Panther broke formation to try and grab him with her whip. It was a one-in-a-million shot, and she didn’t make it, but in the nick of time Mona summoned Zorro to blast him in the direction of the whip with a burst of wind. He grabbed hold, only for his weight to push Panther past her tipping point. With a yelp she fell face-first into the snow, then immediately began to slide. She and Mona tumbled a couple hundred feet before they came to a stop in a drift of snow.

“ANN!” Skull bellowed, already on his way after her no matter what any of the others might have to say. He practically threw himself down the slope after her, tumbling end over end until he plopped into the drift beside her. Lacking Panther’s ice weakness, he’d been in a much better condition before the fall, but now a thorough soak in the snow plus a bevy of bumps and bruises left him dazed. “Are you…okay?” he asked, searching for any sign of injury on his fellow thieves even as his head swam.

“...Yeah,” Mona replied, his voice weak. “Man, this isn’t going so good, huh?”

“It’s too much.” It looked like Panther was on the verge of collapse. “Can’t we stop a moment…? Take a break?”

After shaking out his dizziness, Mona tugged at her sleeve with urgency in his voice. “No, no, no! If you lose consciousness in the snow, you’ll never wake up!”

“We’ve gotta push onward, no matter how shitty it is,” Skull confirmed.

Together, the three strove to pick themselves up and resume the climb. Up above, Joker, Fox, and Necronomicon watched, relieved that their friends weren’t lost but still terrified. Big Band, Tora, Poppi, and the others had proceeded a short distance before Band realized the loss, setting off a chain reaction that paused the whole group. Staring down at the kids struggling to make their way up, the detective continued to play, hoping that his sweet jazz would reach the Thieves through the storm.

Of course, it was at that time that the wind picked up. Everyone hunkered down in a hurry as visibility dropped to just a few feet, and Big Band’s music got drowned out. Down below, Skull and Panther fought with everything they had for each step, arms interlocked, with Mona plastered against the lock by the wind. “Gotta…keep…goin’!” Skull rasped. “Gotta…keep…!

Just twelve seconds later, the storm died back down. When visibility returned to normal, however, the three thieves were nowhere to be seen.

Convent of Our Lady of the Charred Visage

Laharl and Flonne’s @Dark Cloud

At this point, it had been almost a full week since the small but solemn party of ministers, clerics, and acolytes set off from the warmth of Tostarena Town on their journey to the lonesome monastery that, according to rumor and hearsay, dwelled in suffering silence not so far from the snowy summit of Split Mountain. Swaddled like babes in heavy furs and possessed of fiery censers to keep themselves warm, the eight chose to make the dangerous climb for a variety of reasons, be it penance, evangelism, the desire for relics, a vision quest, or -in the case of one young lady- simply in the name of love. And now, having found at the end of her journey that whole trip had been in vain, Flonne was all alone.

For a while the trip had gone as well as one could have hoped. The reckless Riders gave the party a few bruises, and as they trudged through Baur’s Reach in wonderment of winter the wind nipped at their faces, but patience, miracles, and wisdom allowed them to reach the sanctuary of High Hrothgar without much trouble. After spending the night, they began their climb anew, but tragedy struck early on into their climb around the mountain. An ice-encrusted monstrosity barred their path, savage and insatiable, whose hideous head of twisted spigots blasted them with streams of freezing water. Three of their number became trapped in the ice, and after the creature bit off one poor man’s head, the rest of the party could only save one more member before fleeing for their lives.

Farther up the ill-fated group encountered yetis and other fearsome creatures. Despite their best attempts to lay low, they reached an impasse where their most stalwart warrior chose to challenge the giant in their way. When he was launched into the stratosphere, the others were forced to make a mad dash for safety up a dangerous incline. Higher still, one more cleric would succumb to her wounds from the cold.

Despite the odds, the surviving four managed to reach the Convent. At first the sisters welcomed them as pilgrims, eager for their supplication and offerings, and in particular the angel Flonne was heralded as a messenger of the Grievous Miracle come to stoke the flames of their faith. All too soon, however, the sisters realized the truth; that Flonne and her cohort would rather take away their holy suffering rather than deepen and glorify it further. For the newcomers’ blasphemy the sisters sought to snuff out what remained of their fire for good.

After the first murder, the remaining three split up, fugitives in the Convent’s desolate halls, lost amidst streams of lava and bloodthirsty nuns, and unable to leave. How long it had been since then, Flonne couldn’t say. All the boundless love in her heart couldn’t keep her warm or fed, and unlike soft-spoken Father Armen or brusque Sister Rosaria, she couldn’t fight back that well against her assailants, either. Desperate for escape, the girl kept a sharp eye out the abbey’s frosted windows as often as she could, and during one such plaintive search she caught sight of movement through a lull in the storm. A procession of people -as well as a giant wasp and some sort of wolf?- across a distant bridge, thousands of feet away, but still visible through the storm. Then, a few minutes later, a fiery fury. Was it a signal that help was coming? Maybe she could somehow signal back? If she was going to do anything to get out of this dire place, it would need to be now.

Ms Fortune

Location: Carcass Isle - Where All Things Must Come
Level 7 Nadia (73/70)
Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Hat Kid’s @Dawnrider, Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, Ace Cadet’s @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 1588

Peach leading the Orphan on a not-so-merry chase in the direction of the sea meant another headlong sprint across the sandy beach for Ms Fortune, but this time she found herself slowing down before she so much as reached the halfway point. Though at an annoyingly inopportune time, it was beginning to dawn on Nadia just how incredibly tired she was. Her body was one big ache, with her muscles sore and bones weary from constant exertion. This wasn’t the time for reflection, but it made sense; it had been one hell of a day, to say the least. The sheer chaos of the morning’s naval battle on Blackwater Bay had given way to the nightmare circus that was the Maw, with only an all-too-brief lunchtime break in the paradisiacal Luma Pools between them. Then, as if literal warfare and her own personal horror story weren’t enough stimulation for one day, there was the shipwreck on Carcass Isle followed by the back-to-back slugfests on and beneath the island itself. It had to be past midnight at this point, maybe hours past. She was hungry, hurt, filthy, and exhausted, and the others couldn’t be much better. Realistically speaking, it was a wonder that Blue Team was still standing. All that remained was to keep it that way–and make sure that the Orphan went down.

Reasoning that she’d be more of a liability than an asset if she rejoined the fight too hastily, Nadia came to a stop for a brief moment. She bent forward and, hands on her knees, focused on taking deep breaths. All her mobility and copycats left her somewhat low on blood, and if she was going to be at her best, the feral needed to get it pumping once more. Still, she kept her eyes on the fight.

Everyone wanted to keep the Orphan as far away from Sakura as they could get it while she recovered, and the Koopa Troop didn’t waste the initiative that Peach’s decoy effort offered them. A whole armada of spiritbound shells, painted with electrified slime for extra oomph, set off across the water with Junior in the middle. Judging by the ground the Orphan covered so far with the sea never higher than its calves, the water remained shallow for quite a ways. As the summoned shells cruised in, the Princess narrowly evaded a brutal overhead smash from the abomination in pursuit of her, but before she could get far the wave kicked up by the ensuing eruption knocked her legs out from under her. The Orphan ran toward her, but before it could reach her the first wave of shell ramped off the wave and smacked it across the side with a bip-bip-bip-bip. Though their voltaic coating dealt only negligible damage on top of the already tame impact, the Orphan of Kos reacted nonetheless, wheeling around to see Junior’s shell cut through the wave and careen in direction.

Snarling, the monster ripped out more meat from its placental cleaver and lobbed it out over the water. Geysers of accursed blood and noxious tidewater erupted across a wide area, but just a little too late to stop Junior in his tracks. Flying in before the blasts, the Koopa Prince’s shell bonked the Orphan in the shin. A flurry of suppressive fire added insult to injury, and though staggered for only a second, the screaming horror let its weapon fly. The cleaver carved through the shallows in a spiral around it, and before either Peach or Junior could get clear both got clipped. The princess managed to block with Chao Ho’s giant fan, but the force of the blow cracked her elegant weapon of war almost in half as she slid a dozen meters backward across the water.

The exchange made Nadia wince, and with a final deep breath she straightened up. With Ace and Hatty taking up defensive positions around Sakura and Bella, Link not in her eyeshot, and Blazermate off on a risky attempt to collect some ubercharge, her team needed her on the frontlines. Trouble was, at the moment they had less of a ‘line’ and more of a wing and a prayer. Well, at least I won’t be alone up there, she thought ruefully, keeping her copycats in mind. She crouched down at the water’s edge to gather herself for a water-pressure superjump, watching with furrowed brows as Blazermate went on the offensive. She swooped in and, despite her optimistic goal of hitting its weakspot both times, managed to strike the Orphan twice at the cost of her shield arm. Her limb was in shambles as she backed away to a safe distance, but now that her gambit paid off, the Medabot had everything she needed to pull off a Blockbuster of her very own–everything except a guarantee that she’d hit her target. Blazermate called for help, asking that her allies put the fearsome Orphan of Kos on lockdown. It was a tall order, and as much as Nadia wanted to fill it, she couldn’t for the life of her imagine how.

Luckily, someone showed up who could. As Geralt passed Nadia by on his own journey to engage the Orphan in combat, a sudden idea struck him like a bolt from the blue. Nadia saw the genius in the Witcher’s plan straight away, and given how well things turned out the last time Geralt threw her at an enemy, she was more than willing to lend a hand. “Nyaow we’re talkin’! I mean, I’d prefer a bola noodles, but this oughta work. Lemme at ‘em, Gary!” She cut off her charge and stood, extending her hands for him to take. As the swordsman lifted her up she allowed the rest of herself to go limp, so that when he began to spin her around like a meteor hammer above his head, she automatically extended to about twice her usual length.

A moment later Geralt let her rip, and the elongated feral flew across the water like a chain shot from a cannon. She whipped through the air with the murky seashore a blur around her, yowling her heart out the whole time, then struck the Orphan right on the money. Her momentum sent her into a breakneck bright blue spiral around the confused monster, her ropy muscle fibers winding around and around its ghoulish husk, tighter and tighter, until it could barely stand. Unlike Bowser’s dog-pile where it could clearly register both the attack and what it could lash out against in turn, the Orphan seemed baffled by the phenomenon that had befallen it, and could only flail around as it sought to regain its balance with skeletal legs bound together. The feral’s eyes blinked open. “Oh hey, it worked! Didn’t think I’d get this far…hurk!” The Orphan’s burgeoning strength tested Nadia’s muscle fibers sorely, but they held for the crucial moment it took for her to hatch up another scheme. “Remember, remember…” She opened wide and, despite very strong reservations, bit down on the horror’s grisly neck. With a grunt she unleashed her pent-up water pressure from her limbs, and in an burst of vital fluid her constituent components blasted off in all directions, leaving the off-kilter Orphan spinning for a moment in the water. As they flew, her bloody rockets turned back around, headed straight to where her head held tight. She let go, spitting out traces of the Orphan’s execrable flesh, and as her head rolled down its back cried out, “...The fifth of dismember!

Her body smashed together in a gruesome explosion, a level three Blockbuster that left the Orphan dazed for one critical moment as Nadia sailed out of out the carnage. She landed in the she shallows with a roll and hopped to her feet like a gymnast, all in one piece and ready for her perfect tens, only for the power of Blazermate’s Medaforce Beam to nearly bowl her over. The baleful ray of light fell upon the Orphan like an orbital laser, blowing back the tidewater in a radius around it, and in the midst of its radiance the shadow of the wizened abomination contorted in agony, filling the beach with the echo of its haunting scream. A moment later and the lightshow was over, and the Orphan of Kos stood with smoking flesh as the watcher filled back in around it. Its head hung down, but only for a moment.

Its head snapped back up as it howled, its cry even more hideous than the first time it assaulted the heroes’ ears. A pillar of lightning dropped from the sky, but this time Blazermate -not Kos- was the eye of the storm. It slammed her down into the surf before a wave of lightning spread out from her position to roll across the area once more. When it rebounded, it would coalesce on her as well, no matter where on the beach she went. For a brief moment Nadia’s shoulders sagged, the look on her face a silent plea for someone, anyone to end her suffering, but she shook it off. This time she knew the Orphan’s tricks, and after everything it had suffered, it couldn’t be long for this world. Could it? Nadia swallowed and got ready to dodge, already thinking about what to do next. Hopefully she and the others had bought enough time to get poor Sakura back on her feet.

The Chalk Prince, the Fallen Child, the Skeleton, and the Skullgirl

Location: Frozen Highlands - Snowdin
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy, Frisk’s @Majoras End, Papyrus’ @Dark Cloud

As Albedo backpedaled out of the range where the Dollmaker’s frenzied swipes could hit him, Linkle stepped forward with her shiny new crossbows in hand, courtesy of Frisk. The alchemist felt like he could sense a modicum of reluctance in her, but possibly due to the disadvantage of her prospective target, but it paused her for only the briefest of moments. Like him, she recognized that this ghastly creep, a definite stalker and at the very least attempted murderer, deserved little in the way of pity.

In a better world an act of undeserved mercy might prompt a bout of introspection, and maybe plant the seeds of understanding that could bud into beautiful blossoms at some point down the line. But this was the World of Light, and once begun any fight must necessarily end by force, however much Frisk and this pacifistic Papyrus might want otherwise. Any leeway granted to the Dollmaker would only serve the purpose of getting everyone else hurt, maybe even killed. It could be this way even in a hypothetical scenario where Galeem’s influence didn’t exist as a factor. Some things, Albedo knew, simply came out wrong. Even if their hearts of darkness yearned for the light of warmth and companionship, deeds of cruelty would forever stain their vows of virtue, and those they hurt couldn’t be blamed for fighting back. That was the nature of the world, whichever world that might be.

Even after Linkle dealt the decisive blow, the ghoulish giant clung to life a few seconds longer, possessed of such a festering desire that the pieces of his riven body continued to move. They grasped, desperately, longingly, for the lives that the Dollmaker could never obtain for himself. Then the dreary basement fell silent, the golden light of Albedo’s flower shining softly on unhappy faces and piled-up ash. The Skullgirl collected her attacker’s remains, turned to the others, and offered them an apology.

Her new friend’s eyebrows furrowed, his expression one of guarded concern. If anyone should be sorry, it should have been him. This world was one of limitless surprises, and he should have known there would be more to the story of Treat’s current domicile than met the eye. Just how much power did Linkle have to tap into because of his oversight? How much deeper had the day’s events allowed the Skull Heart to delve? Misadventures like this were the last thing she needed.

Papyrus was yelling about the situation, and it intimidated Albedo. He didn’t know what to say, so he skipped over it and addressed the star player. “Don’t worry about it, Linkle,” he told her. “It looks to have been quite the troublesome situation. Are you feeling alright?”

With the matter at hand settled, the Skullgirl’s consideration turned to those around her, and quickly Treat came to mind. Albedo decided to take the liberty of answering for the skeleton for the sake of expediency. “This is Papyrus. Treat is okay, though I regret to say she had a sprained ankle. She’s waiting for us in front of the house, so let’s get her away from this place.”

The group was all too eager to leave the dingy, eerie darkness beneath the Beneviento House behind. Once outside, the crisp alpine air helped get them together again, and they made for the cliffside manor’s main gate. There they found the lonely wolfgirl seated atop Linkle’s sled, with Albedo’s Corgi dutifully reclined in her arms, all four little paws in the air as he tried to lick Treat’s nose. “Aw, stop, stop,” she gasped, unable to suppress a smile despite the dire circumstances. Her attempts to crane her neck away from the living loaf’s eager tongue meant she spotted the incoming quarter straight away, causing her to perk up instantly. “Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

She made to rise and greet the other properly, but Albedo held out his hand. “Stay right there and take it easy. We’ll get your things, then push you down to the village and get that ankle looked at by a professional.” He looked over the sled, wondering if he and Linkle together could lift it like a stretcher.

“Oh no, no need to do that,” Treat grimaced, shaking her free hand. “I don’t want to be a bother or anything.”

Albedo ignored her and took up a position behind the sled. “While I would not presume to know what’s best for you, I know that there’s no shame in asking for help. People aren’t made for living alone, and I believe you’ve been on your own long enough. Please, let us help you.”

Embarrassed, Treat held still so long that the Corgi managed to lick her right on the mouth. “Ugh, gross!” she sputtered. “I mean, uh…sure, I guess. I-if it’s not too much trouble.”

As if to gather empirical evidence, the alchemist looked between the others, hoping to hear their thoughts.