Lugubrious

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

After felling a living, breathing man like a tree, it took Lewa a moment to snap back to reality, such that it was. When he did, he found not just a handful, but a whole platoon of other soldiers gathering together not far away, seconds away from the point where their numbers would bolster their confidence enough to push them forward. Lewa’s slackened grip tightened around the shaft of his axe, and he brandished it with both hands. He didn’t want to take any more lives, especially after the cavalier demonstrated how easy it could be if everything went wrong in just the right way. And if he could do that, what about the others already demonstrating much greater strength, elemental power, and callous indifference to bloodshed? They should run, Lewa thought. Even in numbers, surely they realized that a couple would fall when they attacked. Did they not value their own lives? He narrowed his eyes and steeled himself for the assault.

Instead, a voice cut the tension, and Lewa zeroed in on the source. When the stranger appeared, he sported a distinctive shock of yellow fibers on his head. Lewa wondered if that stuff might be somehow analogous to the masks of his world’s people in that those unique styles gave each individual a visual identity, just with the top and back of the head rather than the front. More relevant was this newcomer’s polearm, though, which seemed to possess some sort of power of its own judging by its glow. A toa tool? Trying not to become too distracted by all this dazzling newness, Lewa focused on what the stranger was saying, but even then he ended up confused. “Golem?” He murmured, watching as this person seemed to take charge of the surrounding Raven Heralds. In so doing he exhibited a rather casually callous manner, which naturally rubbed Lewa the wrong way. “How is it that I feel more for this poor soul’s passing than his own ally?”

The stranger wasn’t paying attention, instead barking orders at his troops. Maybe he took inaction on Lewa’s part for granted. If he intended to oppose the toa, Lewa would be much better off taking the initiative. On a more normal day, he probably would have. Move now, think-question later, might as well be his motto. Today though, he was so far out of his element that he couldn’t bring himself to be impulsive. When the stranger did address Lewa again, his consternation only grew.

“I am no ‘golem’,” he told the blonde man indignantly. “I am Lewa, Toa of Air. If I have a maker, I forgot him during my long journey through the sea-waves. I am far from home, but for the sake of all I hold close-dear, I cannot falter!”

His enemy began the fight soon after, flaunting a power that Lewa didn’t recognize. With no idea what might be happening, he couldn’t react in time to evade the shockwave, and used his arm as a shield to take the blow. “Hnngh!” he grunted, pain shooting through his nervous system. If this foe could unleash energy like that at long range, he knew he should get up close. As he tensed up, he activated his Kanohi Miru. His mask began to glow, green as the verdant jungle, and when Lewa leaped into the air he soared like a bird. After a moment, though, his mask of levitation petered out, and he began to descend. Holding his axe with one hand, he compressed air into the palm of the other while airborne, and when he came down on his foe’s position he did so with an explosive release of air to blow open his guard or knock him down.

World of Light

That application seems good!

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg

From his vantage point atop his caravan, Gru watched the people of the Pilgrims’ Caravan go about their business. He didn’t bother to compose any actual critiques of their activities, but he made sure to adopt an appropriately unamused, scrutinizing look as he sat there that seemed to say ‘well, get to it then’ to everyone who passed him. Together, his posture and expression made it abundantly clear that he had no plans to help resolve this dilemma, whatever its cause might be, and that this profound waste of time had him feeling very put-upon. It went without saying that everyone in the whole convoy would be better off getting out of this execrable Emerald Forest as soon as possible; he simply intended to showcase the misery of this situation firsthand, and spur everyone on all the faster.

Of course, the others didn’t need that much encouragement to begin with. Everyone could feel the sickness festering within the Caravan, the steady depletion of supplies, and the worsening communal mood as they walked up and down the chain of beasts and wagons, doing what little they could to get the ball rolling again. He spotted a familiar painted pelt hustling toward the head of the Caravan. As swift as Malleck was, he didn’t hesitate to wave to Gru as he passed, bound perhaps for the Navigator to look into the situation going forward. Gru gave a stiff nod back. Any well-to-do gentleman could appreciate the arts, so while he’d initially disdained Malleck as a freeloader, he’d eventually come around and acknowledged the beastman as a skilled minstrel. Still, having the appearance of an animal didn’t mean he had one’s essence, and Gru had extended Malleck neither his friendship nor patronage. Given current events, it would be a miracle indeed if the painted dog managed to bring him cheer. Not long after, Gru beheld a rarer sight: an individual quintessential to the Caravan, trusted and needed by all sooner or later. He’d never memorized the smith’s name (‘Master Dwarf’ worked well enough when soliciting business) but he’d worked with Gadri whenever his wagon or cheese-making equipment needed metallurgical upkeep. For that reason, Gadri was one of the few who’d ever been inside the Chuck Wagon, making their testimony important if someone started indulging baseless suspicions. For the smith to leave their mobile forge behind to try and expedite this delay, things must be even worse than Gru thought.

Only after another passer-by showed up did Gru have occasion to speak, though. When the genial, gray-haired eccentric greeted him, the cheesemonger turned his way with a thin smile. Manners seemed hard to come by these days, and common courtesy was anything but, so it pleased him to answer politeness in kind when it came from a valued customer. “And a very good day to you, Mr. Dreamwalker.” Whether giving or receiving, names were important. When conducting business, Gru always opted for the professionalism of using a last name, or cheekily substituting a title for one if applicable. As such, most knew him as ‘Mr. Yarg’, or even less cordially, just ‘Yarg’. Since he always joked that only friends would call him ‘Gry’, few addressed him on a first-name basis. Knossos was among the few. “Here to make a purchase, perhaps? I find nothing takes the edge off of a miserable day like this quite like sinking your teeth into a rich, tender, full-flavored wedge of cheese.”

The occultist did have a request, albeit of a more uncommon kind. At the mention of Ilgirian Red, Gru perked up slightly, stroking his whiskers as he cracked an intrigued smile that showed just the faintest hint of his crooked teeth. “An infusion, hmm? Well, you’ve come to the right place Mr. Dreamwalker. For a cheesemaker of my caliber, it’s certainly possible…” His eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips, a hint of his general annoyance allowed to seep through in a way that invited sympathy. Taking a rat from his collar, he began to stroke its back and scratch its sides, making it giggle. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid there’s a little…snag. For the chemical processes to proceed as they must, the wine infusion must occur in the curd stage, before the cheese is brined, introduced to mold, and aged. I’m sure I need not spell it out for someone as keen as yourself, but with no fresh milk for over a week now, my entire cheesemaking enterprise has tragically stopped dead.”

Gru shook his head mournfully. “Most regrettable, I think you’ll agree.” He then put on his most determined face, his index finger raised. “Rest assured, however, that once I obtain fresh ingredients, I will be able to do all you’ve asked and more. And since you’re supplying the wine, why, I’ll even infuse it at no additional cost. A custom ‘Ubriaco Ilgirio’, how does that sound?” Gru tempted his fingers, peering at Knossos. “If you like, I can take the bottle off your hands so that it’s on hand the moment I’m able to begin. Rest assured it will be safe and secure in my rack–and that I’d never dream of appropriating any for myself, of course.”

In a couple parts of the Caravan, pilgrims were gearing up to leave the safety of the stopped convoy and brave the Emerald Forest itself. Like mice jumping headfirst into the lion’s maw. Gru tried not to let them distract him. Even if the fools didn’t end up like those unfortunate loggers, forging into these uncanny woods was just asking for trouble.

World of Light

At last, the Under team has reached Mercy Dreams, the Prison of Hope. A place of despair where bodies are captive and minds are captivated. Nocturne isn't the only character held prisoner here, either. As your characters explore Mercy Dreams, three kinds of special events can happen on top of normal encounters.

First, your characters may begin to see and hear someone close to them. In addition to that someone's voice, which can be traced to a specific cell somewhere in Mercy Dreams, your character might see a fleeting, ghostly vision of that person in the prison's halls. These familiar faces can communicate with anyone fully and possess all their original memories (as is normal for a Gleamer), faculties, etc, although they can't offer any more details about what they're doing here other than that they awoke here or were imprisoned here. They may ask to be freed, maybe telling your characters to find the keys or the warden. Notably, the bronze locks on each of these cells is oxidized and nonfunctional, meaning you'd need to get the silver keys to open them.

Second, you can collect pages as they fly around like origami fairies or butterflies. Each one describes a random creature, not necessarily from this area, including description, a picture, statistics, and applicable lore.

Third, in the Prison Office directly opposite the 'entrance' on the first layer of Mercy Dreams, there's a ring of twelve oxidized bronze keys, corroded and laden with greenish patinas. You can have your character take a key (or maybe two) and open a standard cell door of your choice, at which point the key breaks. Who's inside the cell? Well, that's up to you, with a couple rules...

• The prisoner cannot be from the same game series as any player character in the area
• The prisoner has at least a couple things in common with your character
• The prisoner is in a dreamlike trance and will fly into a desperate rage when his or her cell door is opened
• The prisoner has seemingly been driven mad by being awakened. If still able to speak, there could be ranting about everything and everyone being 'fake', or about nothing mattering, or about dreams. He or she won't act coherently or answer questions, but is very likely to attack

I would ask everyone bringing in a character to message me their choice/s for approval. If you want me to give you character/s as a sort of grab bag, you can do that too. Oh, and also, there's a larger cell near the Prison Office. That's where the Seer is, behind a door with no bronze lock, beneath which trace amount of soft orange-pink light seem to leak. If you want to converse with her, I'm happy to help. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Have fun with Mercy Dreams!

World of Light

Quarantine Valley - Empty Lot

Level 6 Goldlewis (89/60) Level 4 Sandalphon (54/40)
Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Blazermate, Roland, and Susie’s @Archmage MC, Geralt and Zenkichi’s @Multi_Media_Man
Word Count: 1227

If there was one upside to fighting this massive monstrosity, it was that it made for an easy target. Goldlewis had no trouble perforating the Homunculus with a full barrage from his Skyfish minigun. If only it did more damage; even with a very helpful Tarukaja from Zenkichi, its stopping power was remarkably low for such a massive weapon, and even at Security Level Three it could only shoot for a couple seconds. After that, it was up to Sandalphon to lay down the law from a distance while Goldlewis got up close and personal.

Coffin at the ready, he joined the charge to fight the huge brute toe-to-toe. Geralt, Roland, Zenkichi, and Vigil -whose revolvers weren’t accurate enough to fight from long range- were the frontrunners, while he, Susie, and Penance brought up the rear. She slowed down in order to try and divert the monster’s attention toward herself. With the defensive abilities she showcased earlier, backed up by the lion’s share of Blazermate’s medigun support, Goldlewis had no doubt that the Judge would be able to weather the monster’s wrath, so left her to it. Contrary to appearances, he was no tank, but an all-out bruiser, and he showed the Homunculus as much when he finally reached it with an unstoppable Wild Assault that landed just after it busted through the house Roland somehow dropped on it. Against an adversary like this that obviously couldn’t combo, Goldlewis judged this to be the best way to spend his Burst, and it worked wonders. When it tried to crush him in its jaws, the Homunculus instead reeled back, several teeth knocked out and its eyes lolling as the Wild Charge brought its lunge to an abrupt stop.

Of course, that lasted for only a moment, but that was long enough for Geralt to cut loose. Goldlewis already knew to stand clear of his overtly aggressive ally, but once appropriately forewarned, he made sure to give Geralt an extra wide berth. Empowered by Blazermate’s kritz and eldritch lightning, the Witcher carved into the Homunculus in an almost frightening display of savage strength to take out a big chunk of its life right off the bat. Though the monster managed to wrest control back from Geralt before the kritz ran out, the damage was done, and everyone surged forward to keep the pain train rolling.

With its massive size and strength, the Homunculus set the pace for the battle, but its pace was slow enough to be manageable. Its enormous sweeps, slams, bites, and crushing blows were telegraphed just enough to offset their huge range, but the Seekers didn’t have the time to fight a war of attrition. Rather than play this methodically, Goldlewis placed his trust in his allies and waged total war against the Homunculus. He went whole hog on the monster’s legs with his coffin, landing Behemoth Typhoons one after another. His target moved a lot, only too happy to throw its massive weight around, but Goldlewis ran to keep up. “Come get some! …Hrrraagh! ..Try this on! …Crumble! ”When his Security Level refilled completely he’d pause just long enough to throw out a Thunderbird grenade to do some explosive headhunting, then return to the brute’s trunk-like legs, chipping away at them like an autumn beaver. Getting this close meant facing the Homunculus’ massive attacks, of course, and he managed to halt his onslaught so he could block them about half the time. Goldlewis, made of sterner stuff and backed by Sandalphon’s periodic Angelic Praise, did not relent, even when faced with the withering might of the monster’s purple laser. He spent a little tension in order to block it with Faultless Defense, then the rest on Down with the System. “Shut the hell up…” he yelled over the roaring noise. “AND SIT THE HELL DOWN!”

His mighty coffin uppercut struck the Homunculus from below, hard enough that its whole body thrashed, causing its beam to veer upward in its last couple of seconds and rake across the lot’s surrounding buildings rather than the veteran’s allies. Sandalphon shrank down into cover as the beam blazed overhead, then calmly got back up, took aim, and loosed an ether bolt that burst one of the monster’s eyes. Everyone’s efforts were adding up, and the Homunculus didn’t have a lot left in the tank. Penance and Vigil had been pulling their weight, shrugging off deadly blows and plugging it full of bullet holes respectively, but in the end the limelight went to Karin. When the monster began an unstoppable rampage, charging across the whole area with reckless abandon, her initiative (plus a little stalwart help) put a stop to its brutally simple gambit and dumped it on its back for a tremendous finishing blow.

With the Homunculus dead, the high-power fight had come to its climactic conclusion. Goldlewis watched the enormous, otherworldly body begin to turn to ash, his breathing heavy from the effort he’d put into that final maneuver. His gaze turned toward Sandalphon as she descended from her perch, gliding with the help of her radiant golden halo. As she landed, his communication glyph flared up, and a familiar voice offered a nonchalant greeting. “Someone call for a ride?”

An increasingly loud whirring brought both their attention to the cargobob helicopter just now descending in front of the opening between the empty lot and Quarantine Valley. As it flew carefully through the gap, its side doors swung open, revealing a certain gorgeous secret agent and her emerald green wolf spirit. Goldlewis breathed a sigh of relief. “There y’are. What in tarnation took y’all so damn long?”

Giovanna shook her head, nonplussed. Suppressed by the noise of the rotors, her voice only came through his glyph. “Just get in here, will ya?”

Everyone made a break for the helicopter, pushing through the wind given off by its rotors. For some of them, it was a blast for the past, just like the day almost half a week ago after they’d escaped the Cluster Trucks. How things had changed since then; Benedict had come and gone, Raiden made his final stand, Peach and Poppi as the Seekers knew them had ceased to be, and Tora became bereft of hope. Now they were advancing to a still more uncertain future, but at least they weren’t alone. Though Penance and Vigil hesitated, Goldlewis waved them over after climbing inside and turned to help them up. The Judge gave him a nod of appreciation, and as the cargobob’s doors closed, she turned toward the new arrival. “Giovanna,” she said somewhat stiffly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Hey, Vinnie,” the secret agent replied with a smile, glancing at Goldlewis. “New boss, meet old boss. Old boss, meet new.”

The veteran ran his hand through his hair, then offered his hand to shake. “Huh. Didn’t realize we had a mutual friend.”

Penance accepted it, giving him a rare, slight smile. “Thank you for looking after her. Since she left, well…General Affairs, it hasn’t been quite the same.” Vigil just rolled his eyes.

“Where to?” Duke, the pilot, shouted from the cockpit as the helicopter rose and turned back toward Quarantine Valley.

“Neuron HQ.” Tonight had been hell already, but there was one final event that Goldlewis knew the Seekers couldn’t miss. “And step on it.”

---

Sector 04, Veles. A heavy-metal cyberpunk dystopia of towering black buildings, and none more so than the Aegis Research Institute in its center, Midgar’s greatest pioneer of scientific marvel. While even that didn’t reach the altitude of the Vandelay Tower in Sector 06, let alone the monumental Shinra Building, this sector’s cityscape gave it the highest average altitude in all of Midgar. Even to the Seekers flying high above it via the Special Operation Unit’s signature helicopter, it was overwhelming, not due to visual clutter like its smaller neighbor Suoh or its more jam-packed undercity Night City below, but due to its sheer scale. Goldlewis and the others weren’t here for the Aegis Research Institute -not yet anyway- but for the headquarters of the Neuron Task Force, the police division of Peace Preservation specialized in Astral Plane countermeasures. As they approached, they could see that Jena had been true to her word–Neuron was under attack. All around the building, its officers -as well as local security groups- were under attack by an army of masked vigilantes armed to the teeth with tools of destruction. “Reunion,” Sandalphon observed. “And if they’re here, Anderson must be as well.”

Up on the building’s helipad, a situation was unfolding. Two Neuron officers, the brother and sister duo Hayato and Akira Howard in armored uniforms of Neuron blue and Raven black, had just broken from the elevators to run across the open area with a third armored figure in tow. His outfit featured cherry-red plates over a gray undersuit, an intricate helmet, and a black cape that fluttered in the wind behind him as he ran. After a moment, he slowed to a stop behind the siblings, seemingly out of breath, only to turn and see Jena Anderson walking toward him, flanked by Mephisto and Faust.

Behind his mask, the Consul’s eyes narrowed. “...Jena.”

Her face hard and bitter, she took a few more steps forward before stopping. “It’s been a while, Y. Or can I drop pretenses, and simply call you Yoseph?”

The Consul ignored her. “Jena, why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Jena looked affronted. “You know why.” She began to pace, throwing her arms wide as if tearing something down. “To put an end to this misguided project of yours!”

Y shook his head and thrust his hand toward her in frustration, as if the true nature of things were patently obvious. “YOU’RE the one who’s misguided!”

“No…” Jena shook her head. “We can win. We have a future as we are!”

“Idiot!” Y cut her off, casting his arm aside. “Cling to your worthless husk, but let the rest of us evolve!”

Their voices rose in anger, and in unison. ”Only I can save humankind!”

Jena inhaled sharply. “It appears talking will get us nowhere.” She lifted up a vial of perfected Blue Evolve, a startling shade of purple. Without hesitation she knocked it back, drinking everything. The contortions began before she even finished, and the vial fell from her grasp as she doubled over, purple veins spreading across her skin. Her irises turned from blue to glowing violet, and her sclera ink-black. “RrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAGH!” With a final effort she thrust her arm upward, constructing a lance of chimeric flesh around it. Then Jena lowered it, all three Reunion members ready to fight. Y moved back in silence as Hayato and Akira stepped forward, their batons drawn.

It was at that moment that the cargobob swooped in, its bay doors open. Goldlewis jumped, fell a couple dozen feet, and slammed down on the surface of the helipad. Giovanna, Penance, and Vigil landed to either side of him, and a moment later, Sandalphon gracefully drifted down via her halo to alight amongst the group.

Jena gritted her teeth, glaring at the newcomers. “...You again!?”

“Well, well.” Y crossed his arms, unimpressed. “If it isn’t the Seekers of Light. I had a feeling we’d run into one another sooner or later. Quite the dramatic entrance, and with remarkable timing, too.”

Penance stepped forward. “Consul! On behalf of Midgar’s citizens, once this terrorist is dealt with, we need to talk.”

Y shook his head. “On the contrary, what you need is to fight.” He snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the eyes of Penance and Vigil, as well as Hayato and Akira, gleamed a vivid ruby red. “So fight. Protect me or die trying.”

“Wha-!?” Goldlewis lifted his coffin to block as Vigil turned, unloading his revolvers on his former allies. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!” At the same time, Giovanna fell prey to a leg sweep from Penance’s flail. As she went to bring the hammer down on her fallen friend, Sandalphon interposed her gunstaff in the way, causing the flail to wrap around its length. Penance promptly yanked it back, and the archangel’s weapon flew from her hands as she stumbled forward.

Wasting no time, Jena went straight for her nemesis. “Yoseph!” she screamed, charging forward as Mephisto and Faust covered her with shots from their crossbow and luger pistol respectively. The Howard twins moved to stop her. The night’s final battle had begun.

The Under - Rival Incursion

Level 12 Nadia (129/120)
The Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Artorias’ @Dark Cloud, Nocturne’s @Grimnir, Tingyun, Stetson the Scout, Paintbrush the Gunner, Overhard the Engineer, Cyclops the Scout
Word Count: 4250

Just when it really looked like the Seekers and their new compatriots had the Caretaker’s number, it brought out its biggest and nastiest batch of reinforcements yet, and the manageable battle went to hell in a handbasket. Once the Dirtscrews churned through the earth like giant drills to create entrance tunnels, the packs of Choppers charged in to start cutting, the Smallfries marched in to wreak havoc, and the bullet-spraying Hot Rods put the Rival Tech turrets to shame. Nadia scrambled along with everyone else to respond to the overwhelming new threat. While individually these new robots might not pose much danger, they were everywhere, and the risk of getting physically bodyblocked or locked in hitstun was a very real possibility. The chaos was such that when another uninvited guest showed up, smashing through a solid wall of dirt as if it were styrofoam, Nadia only glanced the newcomer’s way expecting yet another Dirtscrew making an entry. Instead she beheld a strange metal machine, vaguely similar to the automobiles of her world and the more modern cars throughout this one, but far more futuristic than anything she’d ever seen before. Still, even if it rang no bells for her, the visage of a white rabbit instilled her with a deep sense of dread.

And sure enough, she was right.

As soon as Kanna showed her face, or rather her drawn-on pot, Nadia’s blood ran cold. “Waitwaitwait,” she pleaded, so distracted by the prospect of another nightmarish assortment of random reality warps that she barely noticed the Chopper jumping for her in time. She brought her hands together and caught the little fiend with its chainsaw blade just inches from her horrified face. “Dammit, not now, I gotta-!” More ravenous Choppers were skittering her way, backed by a hulking Smallfry. One pounced, and she reflexively fell onto her back, where she brought her knees up to her chest, let go of the one she’d grabbed, then hyperextended her legs in bursts of blood to kick both high into the air. Planting her hands against the wood beneath her, she then hyperextended her wrists to launch the rest of her up after them. Once her hands snapped back into place, she grabbed both Choppers by the legs and hurled them down into the rest of the pack. They smashed messily through their kin, spraying the Smallfry with scrapped parts. As it put up one arm to block, Nadia blasted out high-pressure blood to hurtle toward the robot and shear through its metal with an X-scrape Claws shining silver with the power of New Moon. Her eyes met the Smallfry’s as the pieces of its arm fell, and the next moment she shot off her head on a spring of coiled muscle fiber.

The mighty headbutt knocked the robot over, and after Nadia caught it, she turned it toward Kanna to realize that the senseless girl had already grown a new Wonder Flower. “Waitwaitwait!” she yowled in protest, waving her panicked hands as she ran toward Kanna only to get caught in a shower of bullets from a Hot Rod. “Argh!” she groaned, her teeth gritted as she tried to block the stinging barrage while groping blindly for her Bait Launcher. After her fingers finally closed around the weapon, she yanked it out and fired off a steak at the offending Hot Rod, which she trusted would soon be sorted out. Without giving her a second to rest, another Chopper leaped at her, so Nadia got the hell out of doge with a spinning backdash, the claws of her free hand anchored in the wooden ground. As she slid to a stop, however, her ears perked up and her pupils shrunk. Something was standing right behind her.

Nadia whipped around, one arm poised for a bloody jet punch, only for the Smallfry she’d partially disarmed earlier to catch her with a massive haymaker right to the stomach. The feral’s eyes went wide as saucers, and spittle flew from her open mouth. “PUAH!” Her torso flew backward before the rest of her, connective tissue stretching out as her body -not to mention her Bait Launcher- flew away, though her limbs and head snapped toward it after another split second. Her various parts struck the petrified wood of the cave wall and bounced off it in quick succession, slowly sliding back into place like a pullstrings on a toy. Whimpering, her Polterpup flew after her and started to lick her face. “Uuuuugh,” she groaned, seeing stars instead of the robots closing in on where she’d fallen. It was in that state that Kanna’s lucky Wonder Effect washed over her. A bouquet of flowers appeared above her resting place and fell onto her body, absorbed in an instant and converted into power.

Nadia’s eyes popped open as a sudden flood of energy coursed through her veins. She looked up to see the Smallfry raising its arm to bring down like a hammer. The deathblow descended, but Nadia’s head flew off on a jet of blood that rocketed past the robot and into the air. The Choppers that crowded in to hack the feral to pieces found themselves beaten to the punch as her pieces flew off on their own. In an instant the area filled with rogue body parts, each a missile propelled by a jet of blood and spinning like a drill bit. “Remember, remember!” They crashed and cut into the robots repeatedly, clumping them together until every portion of Ms. Fortune slammed together in a bloody explosion. “The Fifth of Dismember!”

As the blood subsided, carrying with it the sparking, mutilated remains of the machines, Nadia rose from the carnage in one piece. Something was amiss, though. She stared at her wrist as it, like all her scars, poured out blood without any sign of stopping. And yet she felt no trace of depletion or lightheadedness. Was this Kanna’s doing, too? Well, there wasn’t time for introspection, because there were plenty of robots left, not to mention the Caretaker itself. “Not sure if this is a-positive or a-negative…” She sharpened her claws and got into stance, Chucho wagging his tail as he floated beside her. “But I’m full-blooded and red-dy to rumble!”

Like the others, she went on total offense against the machines. Whether because of Kanna’s literal flower power flooding through her or some sort of catastrophic fault with the robots, Nadia found herself tearing through the enemies like tissue paper. She’d quickly found that while they weren’t weaker across the board, their heads -or equivalent processing centers- took way more damage than usual, practically popping like balloons. For a dextrous fighter who targeted such weak points anyway, the Rival threat quickly turned from unstoppable horde to cannon fodder. The others seemed to be every bit as super-charged, and the cavern filled with a magical lightshow as the Seekers unleashed a deluge of thunder, pitch-black flame, ice, and darkness. For the Koopa Troop and the dwarves, the whole place had become a shooting gallery. Cyclops bathed robots in flame, Paintbrush wiped them away in a deluge of micro-missiles, and Stetson busted heads with precision bursts of gunfire from his Deepcore GK2. “Whoa-ho! Whatever she did, it actually worked!” he yelled in a mixture of glee and disbelief. “My gun–it’s totally loaded!” The prospect of endless ammunition seemed to have activated something primal in the dwarves; all were roaring in satisfaction as their weapons sowed streams of destruction through the metal horde.

Nadia had been contenting herself with hand-to-hand combat and wanton abuse of her Blockbusters, leaving a wide trail of her own blood in her wake as she ran around collecting flowers and pulverizing robots, but when she realized what Stetson meant she got in on the fun. After spotting her Bait Launcher amidst the chaos she made a break for it, Chucho hot on her heels, and sure enough, when she held down the trigger it began to divulge an endless amount of tiger-summoning steaks. FOON-FOON-FOON-FOON-FOON-FOON-FOON! Her burly beasts appeared among the machines in droves, tearing them up like tinfoil. “Nyahahahaha!” Nadia laughed, almost euphoric, and her Polterpup barked along with her. “This is AMAZING!”

Everyone’s abuse of their unlimited resources meant it was curtains for the Caretaker’s reinforcements. Even Kanna got in on the action this time. She drove donuts through the bots, shot down Hot Rods with Eir’s main cannon, or jumped her Metal Attacker into the air to come down on opponents with a huge drill extended from its undercarriage, all while cheering everyone on incoherently. Thanks to Therion’s tactic, the machines couldn’t even fight back. Before long all that remained was the big bad itself. Sectonia’s magic slowed the Caretaker’s spin, however, and a few seconds later the explosion of a C-Foam grenade brought the inverted pyramid to a complete stop. Everyone joined the effort to focus down the vents one final time, and Nadia had a brainwave on how she could pitch in. “Aha, just you wait ‘til I get my ship together!” Running for where she’d laid her jacket, she scooped it up and put it on. At that point, the blood she’d inundated the floor with let her activate her rigging, and like clockwork its mechanical arms unfolded to bring her cannons to bear. “There we go! How’s this for in-vent-ive?” From her cannons she fired off homing hydro-missiles to join in the Seekers’ fusillade, and when the vents were done for, the Caretaker’s eye was next. Nadia kept skating and kept firing until the deed was done.

When the final blow was struck, the Caretaker pulsed violently, sparks flying as it lost power. It fell and hit the top of the Data Vault hard, then pitched onto one side with a massive KOMMM. After a brief moment, its four eyes open and lolling cartoonishly, it began to suck in energy. It released a resounding death scream like the shrieking bugle of an elk, then shook the entire cavern with the explosion. Kanna fed Yacopu a Wonder Seed so he could dispel the Wonder Effect, and as what passed for ‘normal’ in this reality reasserted itself, the torrent of blood from Nadia’s scars subsided. “Man,” she groaned, looking over her clothes. “Everything’s soaked through. And blood never comes out…” Her ears perked up and she fell quiet, though, as she heard the deep clicks of some massive mechanism. As everyone watched, the Data Vault unlocked, swinging upward like the door of a safe. Beneath it, concentric circles arose like a ziggurat, until finally the center section extended to reveal a glowing, humming Data Rack, cases of rare minerals, capsules containing specimens, and a one-third mask fragment.

“Alright, let’s grab the damn thing and blow this hellhole,” Cyclops groused. None of the dwarves seemed too enthused about the victory; to them this was just another day at the office, and Nadia got the impression that this wasn’t the first Caretaker they’d beaten, anyhow.

Stetson grappled up and grabbed the big, techy-looking cylinder, which he brought to the four-legged robot that had been waiting in the wings. “‘Ere, Molly.” Nadia’s team took the mask fragment, and split the minerals fifty-fifty between dwarves and Seekers, with the specimens free to whoever might want them. Once Stetson loaded the Data Rack onto the Mule, he held his hand over the big red button and turned to look at the others. “Roight then, once I press this button, it’s go time. Wherever the drop pod lands, we’ve got five minutes to make it there, ‘cause it’s leavin’ with or without us. Molly ‘ere’s gonna lead us at least, but it’ll be nonstop bugs the whole time, so keep your wits aboutcha.”

“More bugs?” Still breathing heavy from the battle, Nadia sighed in resignation. “Man, you guys just can’t catch a break.”

“You’re bloody well right,” the dwarf grumbled, trying not to let it set in.

Kanna, meanwhile, seemed just as cheerful as ever. “Ooh, I’ll totally go with you! One good turn, like, deserves another, right?”

For a moment Nadia’s gaze lingered on the unexpected helper. Then she adopted a rueful smile. “Uh, yeah, well...thanks, by the way. You really helped back there. Made the whole thing a piece of cake.”

“Well, doy!” Grinning, Kanna gave the feral a wink. “Like, I totally know what I’m doing and stuff~”

At that, Nadia’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but she managed to stay positive. Having recovered enough at this point to continue, Tingyun spoke up next, turning to Therion with a sly smile. “While we’re at it…” She leaned toward the thief, spreading her fan to cover her face as she planted a little kiss on his cheek. “You saved my life. Thank you.” Then she stepped back and turned toward the others. “Is everyone ready? Not to rain on my most gracious benefactors’ parade, but the sooner we’re out of these bug-infested caves, the better, hm?” Nobody could disagree with that, and when everyone was ready, Stetson pressed the button to begin the countdown.

A few tense moments passed before the Mule suddenly stood up, turned, and hustled off in the direction of a tunnel nobody had used yet. That tunnel also happened to be a good fifty feet up on one of the cavern’s walls. Molly climbed it like a spider, leaving both a trail of green warning lights behind her, and everyone else to find their own way up. “Aw, hell,” Stetson griped. “Paintbrush, zipline. Stat!” Nodding, the gunner ran back far enough to get an angle that wasn’t too steep. Once he set it up he, Overhard, and Cyclops all jumped on the slow-moving ride upward, with Tingyun joining them. Given the strict time limit, the Foxian seemed fretful, but she had no other choice. Stetson opted for the direct approach. “From A to D, skippin’ B an’ C!” He zipped right up with his grapple hook, and Nadia followed suit with Chucho right behind, digging her claws into the petrified wood to haul herself upward. With a Charge and a few spurts of blood, she managed to reach Molly and climb onto her to ride the rest of the way.

Kanna drove her Metal Attacker toward the wall and started jumping. While Eir could get some serious elevation, it wasn’t enough. “It’s, like, waaaay too high!”

“Here, try this!” Bringing out his platform gun, Overhard created a handful of plascrete shelves on the wall. When Kanna tested them out, the impressive substance held, and by jumping Eir between the shelves she managed to ascend to the exit tunnel.

Said tunnel turned out to be quite the gauntlet. It twisted and turned in a series of grottoes and chambers with plenty of thorny scarlet vines, bulbous plants bursting at the seams with sticky yellow goo, stray bots, and glyphids. With adrenaline fading and fatigue mounting, the Seekers could only fight through, following the trail blazed by allied Metal Attackers. At one point their mad dash awakened a towering, fleshy thing hailed by the dwarves as a Spitball Infector. Unfortunately, the Seekers were many, and they were in a hurry. They overran the spitballer, squelching its pustules into paste, and hastened down the final stretch. There they finally saw the fabled drop pod, a large, roughly octagonal pillar of corroded orange metal with bladed teeth on the corners and a huge drill on the bottom. With its eyes lights out and entrance open, with ramp leading down to the ground, it looked almost like a big face. Kanna’s Metal Attacker pulled to a stop beside it, and she got out to wave the others over, as if Molly’s trail wasn’t enough. Beyond it, the tunnel opened up into a huge, utterly colorless cavern of thick, towering trees and soft gray mists. A wide, heavyset structure, like some sort of hotel, could be seen in the distance. Right now though, Nadia had eyes for the drop pod only, and she saw a problem with it.

“H-huh!? It’s tiny! We can’t all fit in there!” The pod’s interior could seat four dwarves comfortably, and maybe sixteen if they all really crammed, but no way could all of Nadia’s huge teammates squeeze in. At least Sectonia and Kamek could fly, plus Junior if he left Kuebiko behind, but the Metal Attacker’s UI made it clear that its Recoil Jump would let it leap off walls as much as needed to ascend the purely vertical shaft the drop pod carved on its way down. Bowser and Artorias might be able to crawl inside, but they’d hog all the space and be terribly uncomfortable too. The four dwarves, Tingyun, Primrose, Therion, Nadia, and Kamek (if he wanted) could fit in without too much issue, the taller among them needing to stoop and/or crouch. Once everyone who could got in, the drop pod shut its gates, sealed the entrance, and began to ascend.

“Bye bye everyoneeeeeeeeee~” Kanna sang, bouncing up and down on the ground as she waved to the others with both hands. “Come back and visit soon, flower!”

After the intense rumbling diminished a little and it was clear that the extra weight wouldn’t sink the ship, Stetson let out his breath. He took off his cowboy hat, revealing a shiny bald head underneath, and wiped his brow. “That’s one for the books.”

Results

Party: Bowser, Kamek, Junior, Rika, Sectonia, Primrose, Therion, Artorias, Nadia
Encounter Reward: +15 EXP

---

Mercy Dreams, the Prison of Hope

After about a minute, the drop pod began to shake again, much more violently this time. Loud clangs gave the impression of multiple hits taken from above. Tingyun hugged her tail tightly, her eyes fearful. “What’s going on?”

“Loose debris in the shaft,” Overhard guessed, pulling out his terrain scanner to see what was going on. “Looks like we’re passing right by some sort of big underground complex.”

Nadia tried to peer at his tablet over his shoulder. “Wait, doesn’t that sound like where we oughta be goin’? Hold up a sec, let us off!”

After a bit of back-and-forth, Overhard managed to bring the drop pod to a half in the middle of the shaft, suspended by the teeth it was using to climb and the downward rocket burning just enough to keep it up. The doors opened and the ramp flipped down, breaking through a stone brick wall into some kind of dungeon. Nadia and the others piled off, while Tingyun chose to stick with the dwarves. “The sooner I’m back in the space rig, the sooner I can find a starskiff and chart a course toward the Luofu!” she explained, ironically explaining very little. “Thank you for all your help, benefactors. I hope to see you again soon!” Since the drop pod couldn’t tarry long, it was on its way after another moment, bound with all its passengers toward the surface. That left the Seekers in a new, very important, and very ominous place.

The heroes had arrived in a sprawling prison complex of considerable age and size, dimly lit by assorted candelabras that stood along the walls or hung from the ceiling. Crumbling walls, pillars, and arches characterized the whole place as one of both antiquarian style and sorrowful neglect, yet one neither in ruin nor silence. Voices and whispers echoed through the place, some more distant than others, eerie but not exactly ghostly. Nadia’s ears turned this way and that, zeroing in on definite sources. Whether this place’s prisoners were ghosts or real people, it didn’t ultimately make a lot of difference. The Seekers’ mission was the same: find the Dreamcatcher, find the eighth mask piece, and move on.

Of course, getting through this place was going to be anything but simple. On the surface this dreadful prison harbored an oppressive, twisted atmosphere, into which who knew how many sufferers had been immersed and left to rot. Although Nadia couldn’t see any enemies outright, her instincts told her to keep her voice down, lest she be discovered by…something. Something about Mercy Dreams ignited the imagination in unpleasant ways. Was it something in the air? Or leaking from the corners or the seams between stones? This strange undercurrent made the feral think of water slowly trickling through caves, slowly eroding cracks in the thin walls of reality and inviting madness to fill in the gaps, or depositing unknown minerals bit by bit to create monstrous teeth and regal columns never before seen, much less made, by man. While not as bad as the eldritch train platform where Nadia encountered the Nowhere Monarch, this place still unnerved her, so rather than sprint off guns ablaze, she slunk over from the wall everyone busted through to a spiky wrought-iron railing that overlooked the central atrium of Mercy Dreams.

The complex featured five layers, with the fifth and final being the bottom floor. Roughly shaped like a massive letter I, the rest of the floors ringed the atrium, increasingly narrow the farther down they went, with standalone cell blocks to either side of the central space and a square hall around the edges. Layers could be accessed via staircases barred by metal bar gates, which designated pull-switches could operate. On the opposite side of this first layer stood some sort of office, possibly belonging to a warden. On every floor were prison cells, some open, some not. Every windowless door featured a slot to drop food in and two locks, a bronze one and a silver one, either of which could open the otherwise impregnable cells if they received the right key. All of the voices that permeated this place issued from behind those closed doors, intelligible but delirious. Only one prisoner in the whole place seemed to be trying to get free. At the same time, not all of the open cells were empty. Within one could sometimes find pale, misshapen things, wretches somewhere between man and dragon that lurked in the dark. Dead silent, passive, and almost -but not quite- still as statues.

Nadia could also catch glimpses of the prison’s jailers on patrol. On the fourth layer were bishops on floating cathedra, wielding long spears to thrust downward with from their high chairs, often attended by a couple masked, bleeding flagellants with lashes. On the third layer were mind flayers, robed, tentacled, and beaked. They could cast brilliant soul rays without limit, or if the situation called for it, fire off an electric snare to bind an escapee in place for a deadly grab attack. Deeper still on the fourth layer, illuminators. Anyone within the light of their lanterns would find their maximum health drained at a rate of 25% per second to a minimum of 15%, accompanied by the sound of their pumping hearts. While their max health would restore after twenty seconds, the health itself would not, and if a laughing illuminator managed to brand a target with her soldering iron, the curse it inflicted would prevent healing and increase equip load to hinder evasion. Finally, two abhorrent jailers walked the fifth layer, each massive abomination carrying a cylindrical cage as a weapon. Nadia couldn’t see what they were guarding down there, but it had to be something serious. “...Yeesh.”

That wasn’t all, though. Much to her amusement, she also spotted a number of what looked like paper butterflies quietly sitting or flitting around the prison, the soft rasp of their paper wings adding to the overall ambiance. One fluttered Nadia’s way, and despite her earlier trepidation, she crouched down and went after it, pursuing and pouncing at it repeatedly until she finally caught it between her palms. “Gotcha, haha!” When she opened her hands, the butterfly -or was it a fairy?- unfurled into a sheet of parchment. It depicted one of those strange masked illuminators, naming it as an ‘Irithyll Jailer’. “The jailers were among the few survivors inhabiting the Profaned Capital, later serving under Pontiff Sulyvahn,” she read aloud, bewildered. “Perhaps the screams emanating from the cells help them forget their old home.” The page also gave a number of statistics, including health, resistances (slash and impact), weaknesses (pierce and lightning), and even a selection of three ‘drops’. “Well, that’s useful,” she muttered, passing the page to whoever wanted to read it. “Not to mention really…weird.” Were these paper butterflies the enchanted notes of some sort of monster biologist? Whatever the case, it made her uneasy. “Guess I wouldn’t mind snatchin’ one of their outfits though. Those fancy masks have me feelin’ kinda jail-ous.” Her attempt to lighten the mood did not, unfortunately, get results.

“...Nadia?”

In the middle of the feral’s uneasy chuckle, she heard a voice that made her freeze. It was distant, and a little muffled, but she knew that voice anywhere. Not many people knew her as anything but Ms. Fortune, and it would probably be some of her teammates’ first time hearing her real name, but she didn’t care. Right now, she only wanted one thing. “Minette!?”

“Nadia, is that you!?”

“Minette!” Nadia hesitated, a little spooked. While she sometimes had her moments, she wasn’t stupid. What were the odds of running into her best friend here, of all places? “Where are you? What are you doing here?”

“I’m trapped!” the Dagonian called out from somewhere in the complex. “Please, help me!”

Nervous, Nadia went back over to the railing and looked around, trying to zero in on the voice. She kept her own quiet enough not to alert the jailers. “Hang on, I’ll try and find you!” Like the others she was tired and a little hungry -it had to be dinnertime by now, after all- but now especially, she couldn’t afford to take a break. The hunt was on.

World of Light

That sounds pretty good then. Nocture replacing the Jester as your starting character is approved and you can start working on an opening post. In tomorrow's update the Under team will be reaching Mercy Dreams, which as an underground prison is a great place to introduce a new character.

World of Light

That's an interesting alternative. I wouldn't measure the duration of any effect in the number of posts since the amount of time posts encapsulate can vary wildly. Establishing a set amount of in-universe time would be better. I assume that with 'Dead and Back' she can still be destroyed despite her increased resilience since we can't have an indestructible character.

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

Drawn by the visceral sounds of conflict, Lewa emerged from the treeline to find a village embroiled in chaos, and not just thanks to its attackers. After all, the deluge that had descended upon it was no ordinary downpour. He couldn’t help but pause for a brief moment in wonderment as he witnessed a torrent of elemental power polluting the airspace over the breached and burning buildings, raining not from the skies but from the Sanae as she floated aloft. Her use of the water element, a power exclusive to female toa in his world, did not surprise him so much as the sheer volume of her output. Already this hydrokinetic flood went well beyond any feat his sister Gali had ever achieved, and as Sanae had already demonstrated via her flight and barrier creation, she possessed a wealth of abilities on top of this. It was a little humbling, in fact. On the island of Mata Nui, the six toa -with their tools and abilities- were all that stood between the Matoran and the myriad dangers that threatened their way of life. Here though, this individual could do more than several toa combined with a mere snap of her fingers. Lewa watched as the enemy force scattered, their formation broken as they ran for cover from Sanae’s seemingly unstoppable onslaught, their weapons useless. What hope did someone like Lewa have?

As it turned out, though, the battle wasn’t over yet. Despite appearances, Sanae’s magic couldn’t saturate every inch of the village at once, and the Raven Heralds harbored ranged attackers of their own. Well-aimed shots from odd angles disrupted Sanae’s offense, and when followed up by javelins of elemental ice, her opposition displaced her enough to turn the tables. Suddenly a variety of spells, faster and stronger than her own projectiles, were keeping her from re-establishing air superiority. As much as Lewa wanted to see Kopaku right now (a sentiment that he admittedly would have never thought possible given his brother’s distant, icy disposition) he’d already learned that elemental abilities weren’t the domain of toa alone. When Lewa turned his attention back down to earth, he spotted better-defended soldiers elbowing past their more vulnerable peers, clearing the way for the casters. Though their robes and staves reminded Lewa of the Turaga, it seemed as though they were bending their wisdom toward destruction rather than cultivation. It had become clear that Lewa couldn’t leave this fight in the others’ hands. “Looks like I have a job to do, after all,” he said, hefting his axe. Despite his misgivings, it was time to prove himself as a toa -and a hero- to the people of this besieged village in combat.

When Lewa approached, the soldiers took notice. His remarkable size, not to mention the vivid coloration of his armor, commanded the attention of everyone present. From appearances alone, few would imagine him to be less of a threat than the horned woman or little girl already wreaking havoc in their midst. And naturally, they’d give this threat the attention they felt he deserved. The Raven Heralds’ marshalls quickly dispatched a cavalry unit his way, the heavy artillery of the medieval battlefield. With the defense of a knight but mobility and momentum that no infantry could hope to match, armed with an instrument of blunt trauma capable of treating a knight’s full plate like tin foil, the mounted warrior was the perfect tool for the job of quelling the armored giant before them.

Or so they thought.

Though the sight of a cavalier thundering one’s way on horseback was enough to make the average soldier soil himself, Lewa was more amazed than afraid. As someone with an intrinsic love for wildlife and the beauty of nature, he marveled at the sight of a four-legged beast with legs like pillars and a humanoid torso protruding from its back, all outfitted in metal as a weapon of war. Only after a moment did he realize that there must be two bodies, one riding atop the other like a Matoran on a Gukko bird. A silly mistake, no doubt, but who could blame him? Everything here was so unfamiliar. Regardless, he couldn’t afford to gawk for long. Strange as this world might be, he knew a weapon when he saw it, especially one wielded with killing intent. I’m sorry, he thought, his grip tightened around his axe. But I have to do this!

Hefting his axe, Lewa whirled around above his head, one, twice. Each stirred the air around him, creating and then intensifying a vortex around him. Even if he noticed, the cavalier did not change course; he was dead-set on running the toa down. “Wind…” Lewa steeled himself and swung his axe with all his might to launch the whirlwind forward. “Fly!” It tore across the soil, whipping up twigs and leaves in its wake, and slammed into the horseman as he closed the last couple dozen feet. On contact, it threw both beast and rider off-kilter, turning their speed and weight against them. In a mere moment the horse went from off balance to off its feet, its hooves kicking upward as the animal fell, shrieking. Caught in his stirrups, the cavalier went down along with his mount, one leg practically crushed beneath its weight. His yell was interrupted by his impact with the ground, concussing him as he slammed against the inside of his armor. A couple feet away his hammer had been thrown from his grasp as he instinctively put his hands out to break his landing, smacking head-first and partially sinking into the soil before it teetered over. Both of the fallen struggled, discombobulated by the forces at play and the intense pain of their unexpected collision with the ground.

When they went down Lewa had jumped clear, easily sailing to a safe distance without even needing to invoke his Kanohi Miru. He watched as his attacker and his horse suffered from their injuries, unable to disentangle themselves and rise. The sounds made by the horse in particular were just hideous, and they hurt Lewa especially. He hadn’t wanted to -or really thought he would- hurt the creature when he attacked. This wasn’t its fault after all, it was just being used. As he wondered what to do, the cavalier finally managed to take advantage of the horse’s thrashing and pull his trapped leg out from beneath it. Maybe it was broken, maybe it wasn’t. Right now he couldn’t be sure thanks to the adrenaline, and he knew things weren’t over. Still on the ground, he rounded on Lewa, expecting to be executed. Instead Lewa slid his foot underneath the hammer next to the handle and kicked the weapon toward his foe. To him, this made sense. He didn’t want to play the role of executioner. It was clear that his opponent could keep fighting. The honorable thing to do would be to give him a sporting chance. To the cavalier, of course, this was a humiliating taunt. He was wounded, possibly crippled, while his opponent possessed massive advantages. The fight was already over. All he could do was hope that his foe’s arrogance would give him the one-in-a-million chance he needed.

So the Raven Herald grasped his hammer, propped himself up with it as struggled to stand, and roared with everything he had as he stepped forward. He knew he was looking death in the face, and a primal fury possessed him. Lewa’s eyes were narrowed as he tried to gauge the threat, making no assumptions. It never occurred to him to taunt or showboat in any means; this was as serious as the toa of air got. As the cavalier swung his heavy hammer, Lewa stepped back. The weapon’s weight made its wielder overbalance, and as he struggled to bring the overswing under control, Lewa moved in. His two-handed chop caught the man full in the breastplate with the protodermis head of his axe, caving in the armor and leaving a long, narrow dent. On the inside this became an edge that parted flesh and bone. The man fell, his lungs crushed and his heart stopped. As he hit the ground Lewa stepped back, reading his axe again for the next bout, expecting his opponent to rise. Only after a few moments did it become clear that he never would.

The toa stared at the warrior for a moment, wondering why he’d just…stopped. Unaware of the concept of internal organs, he could only guess at what had happened. Had that clean hit really been enough? Lewa felt a chill in his veins, and the pulse of his heartlight didn’t slow despite the battle’s end. No good. No good at all. He forced himself to look away. There were plenty more Raven Heralds where that one came from. This wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot, and the sooner it came to an end, the better.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

There we go, the cheesemonger has arrived.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg

For the umpteenth time, the wheels of the Chuck Wagon rolled over an overgrown root that encroached on the Emerald Forest’s path, strongly jostling everything -and everyone- inside. It has been long enough since the last root that Gru had just started to relax again, daring to release his grip on his book with one hand as he reached for his mug of tea. The timing couldn’t have been worse; just as his fingers closed around the handle and brought it towards his face for a sip, the whole wagon jerked upward on the right side. Both his book and his mug flew from his hands as he jumped in surprise, spraying tea all over his clothes before both hit the ground close enough to douse the pages with spatters of murky liquid. Instantly aggravated, the wan cheesemonger flushed with anger, his uneven teeth bared like an animal’s.

“BLAST IT!” He seethed, pounding both clenched fists against his armrests before leaping from his chair with such a furious energy that he nearly hit his wagon’s ceiling. He moved toward the front of his mobile home’s forward compartment and smacked the wooden wall. “Can we stop! Hitting! Things! Already! How many’s that, now? If you can’t steer around it, could you lot give me some kind of warning, at least? Just, I dunno, squeak or…something!”

Gru got a chorus of squeaks as the small armies of rats inside all four of the Chuck Wagon’s front wheels addressed his complaints. Most were as angry and indignant as their master was, whether at him for being cantankerous, one another for making mistakes, or themselves for doing a bad job. While Gru couldn’t understand their words, he definitely got the message. “Ughhhh…sorry, lovelies.” With a heavy, groaning sigh, he crouched down to collect his things. “I know the road’s hard, you’re trying your best.” Was he being unreasonable? Probably. Why, then? Well, it wasn’t the book. He hadn’t treated it any better than its previous owners, as its torn, yellowed pages and frayed cover suggested. He might have if he really enjoyed reading it; it chronicled an old war on some other part of the continent, but its author prioritized statistics over drama to the point that it really wasn’t all that diverting to begin with. The mug wasn’t the crux of the matter, either. Forged from staunch metal and bound in insulating leather, it was a stalwart traveler’s companion and could take a beating. Not even the tea vexed him, despite this being the wagon’s ‘dry’ side. Lukewarm and largely depleted, it didn’t soak him or ruin anything, and it hadn’t been tasty enough that the loss would be missed.

“It’s this blasted forest!” Gru interjected suddenly as he rose to his feet. After slapping the book and the mug down on his little desk, he paced around his living quarters’ cramped interior, constantly forced to adjust his balance against the movement of his mobile home. “It’s been days in this godforsaken place,” he fumed, giving vent at last to all his built-up annoyance. “No farms, no fields, no customers, no quiet. You’d think it’d be a nice peaceful ride through the woods, but no. Just a complete and utter waste of time!” And as if to emphasize his point, the cart suddenly drew to a stop, its wheels -and their occupants- squeaking in frustrated protest. Moaning, Gru could only hang his head. By now, he’d come to expect unexpected stops like this, and they certainly weren’t the fault of his rats. Another breakdown, probably. He tottered over to his little closet and pulled it open. As he selected which jacket to wear, a gang of rats formed up on the top shelf, assembled from both those on break up above and those who’d been working down below. In the center of the mob stood his favorite four: Pepper, Rick, Wensley, and Reggie, all ready to receive and distribute his orders. “Take a breather, loves,” he told them, his tone one of resignation. “My gut tells me we’re gonna be here a while.” As he took his top hat with one hand, he held the other out toward Pepper, who jumped on with a little cheer, ran down his arm, and climbed up onto his head as fast as her little legs could carry her. Gru placed his hat upon his head, checking in the mirror bolted to the back of his closet door that it was perched just right, and as he did more rats climbed up him to cluster together and form his live fur collar. The rest scattered, and with a final sigh Gru shut his closet and headed for the door. “This despicable forest hates us.”

A moment later he stepped out into the cool woodland air. He took a deep breath, then shut and latched the door behind him. After climbing up onto the Chuck Wagon for a good view, he put a handkerchief to his mouth and surveyed the scenery. Sure, the Emerald Forest looked beautiful, with vibrant colors straight from a child’s storybook. But it had been nothing but trouble since the minute the Pilgrims’ Caravan arrived here, just as Gru expected. A tree didn’t grow overnight after all, and a forest this size took far, far longer, during which time it had more than earned its terrible reputation. Something was wrong with this place. The personification Gru applied early was by no means unwarranted–this massive place’s inhospitality wasn’t just undocumented, but tangible. It watched without eyes, listened without ears, and resisted its visitors every step of the way.

An ill wind blew through these trees, carrying ill fortune to all those who entered. Breakdowns, accidents, illnesses. Gru could hear the coughing from here, up and down the stalled caravan. From the beginning he’d been hesitant to send his rats out to forage, and not just because of their typical predators. In a forest that wanted to swallow up the whole caravan, nobody needed to be more careful than its tiniest members. Still, it was only a matter of time until supplies began to dwindle. The paranoia planted throughout the pilgrims would then start to fester. And then what? Only through unity did the caravan survive. It had survived countless hardships already, even in the comparatively brief time Gru had been with it, but only a fool would take that to mean infallibility. Anyone could die. Any day, any time, for any reason. But Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg intended to survive.

No matter what came his way.

News quickly spread of strangers in the pilgrims’ midst. Gru got the details from Hoogarth, a good-natured strigiform traveling with the caravan as a hunter. The owl-man spoke of woodsmen, lost in the woods they’d come to harvest, humbled and on the verge of starvation. Still agitated by the terrifying things they’d witnessed. “Hmph,” Gru huffed, his lip curling. “They must be stupid. Everyone knows these woods are cursed or some such. Why anyone would take such absurd risks is utterly beyond me. And now they’re begging for food? Well, if they’re planning to come crying to me, let's hope they haven’t lost their coin as they did their wits.” Getting the impression Gru was talking more to the rats than him, Hoogarth just shrugged and kept moving to let others know.

It wasn’t long before Gru got another visitor in the form of an airborne phantasm. He watched it flutter toward him on the breeze, hoping it would pass him by, but unfortunately he knew better. It was the work of Althuwin the Navigator, mainstay and fixture of the Pilgrim’s Caravan for as long as just about anyone could remember, and through magical means Althuwin greeted Gru from afar. Predictably, he seemed to be reaching out in hopes of appealing to Gru’s better nature.

Too bad I don’t have one. Under no circumstances could Gru afford to part with the fruits of his labor for free. His cheese was an incredibly finite product. Every one aging in his Chuck Wagon’s dry shelves was a masterpiece-in-progress, from six-week-old Muenster to twelve-month-old Parmesan to his famous ‘Cheddar of Rebirth’, made the day he first joined the Pilgrim’s Caravan and aged for well over two years since. When it came to making cheese, time was money. A single empty spot on his shelf was a huge problem. After all, he couldn’t make new cheeses without fresh milk, so by now his production had been stopped dead for an entire week. That had been part of why he’d so vehemently opposed Althuwin’s route through the Emerald Forest, but nobody outweighed the Navigator when it came to matters of opinion. Besides, many of his cheeses were already spoken for, custom made to satisfy orders he’d received. They weren’t for sale, much less charity.

Still, maybe something could be arranged. “Ergh…I’ll consider it. Perhaps we can strike some…ah, bargains.” Even if someone couldn’t pay up front, a savvy trader could find ways to get his due. Right now, these people were too hungry to read fine print. If they could read at all. Gru was a salesman, not a businessman, but he could wheel and deal if needed. And his rats made for excellent debt collectors in a pinch. Althuwin went on to compliment Gru’s cheese, which struck him as backward. Doesn’t he know you’re supposed to flatter before you ask favors? Establish a good mood up front. Otherwise the honeyed words fall flat. Of course, not everyone could cut it as a salesman. Althuwin also asked about Gru’s methods. The cheesemonger sprouted a thin smile. “Trade secret, I’m afraid.” He respected -and to an extent needed- Althuwin as a customer, but they weren’t friends. One gave the other money, and the other gave the one food. Besides, Althuwin had a ‘way of speaking’ that Gru didn’t quite like. This wasn’t the first time that the old man had asked how the proverbial sausage was made. Sometimes Gru wondered if the Navigator knew things that he shouldn’t. As the wind sprite left, he watched a handful of pilgrims arming themselves for an expedition off the beaten path. There are some secrets that should stay buried, he thought, peering warily through the ill-omened verdure.