After seating herself at an empty table on the first floor of Fengjian Teahouse, Nadia eyed the competition. While she could have taken some time to talk this through with her teammates and come up with a plan of attack, she elected to ignore them, focusing instead on her own thoughts. Naturally, the feral already had a scheme in the works. Normally she parted fools from their money through stealth and dexterity, but there was more than one way to skin a cat, as they say. With betting involved, this situation seemed ripe for a classic hustle, and the cat burglar was no stranger to the process. If robbery was an art form, Nadia Fortune could be relied upon to paint a masterpiece.
Before the show began, the first step was to pick a target. In an unofficial operation like this, with lots of unknowns surrounding the fighters, their abilities, and records, betting would probably continue well into the match to give the participants a chance to see which way the winds were blowing. In order to maximize her payout, Nadia needed to get those second-floor spectators to confidently bet against her, then turn the tables at the last moment to seize an unexpected victory. That meant picking an opponent that seemed stronger than her, but not so one-sided that the spectators might get suspicious. Appearances weren’t everything, of course, but they were probably all most betters had to go by, so that would be Nadia’s logic as well.
She quickly ruled out the living statue, the man in red, and the chick in pink, despite how cool the latter looked. Right now Nadia was here for cash, not the love of the game. Out of the two remaining, she quickly settled on the redhead. That woman was taller, buffer, and -to her annoyance- hotter than Nadia, and dressed like that, she was probably a crowd favorite to boot. Muscles like that took some serious effort and self-esteem to maintain, so if the classic trope of the fiery redhead held true, Nadia felt pretty confident that she could prey on the redhead’s pride. Shortly after Sakura, Terry, Falcon, and Amaterasu went to kick off a huge two-on-two spectacle, the feral got up and headed back across the first floor toward the bar.
As soon as she stepped toward the redhead, the woman’s head turned her way. Nadia conspicuously pretended not to see her, looking away innocently as she sauntered up to the bar next to her mark, where she seated herself and forward onto the counter. The redhead said nothing, but took a long drink of her beer as she reclined against the counter, watching Terry’s brawl. “I’ll have what she’s having,” Nadia told the Mokujin bartender, who took a glass mug and placed it beneath the tap. When she received her drink, she took a sip, only for her face to scrunch up the moment the brew hit her tongue. She set it down and swallowed, then squirmed, her ears flattening. “Oogh, yuck…guess it’s, uh, hoppy hour, eh?”
The redhead to her right looked more bemused than anything. “It’s a stout,” she informed the feral.
Nadia raised her eyebrows. “Oh, oh, I see, yeah. Guess that explains…” she gestured her head toward the redhead’s toned stomach, a judgemental look on her face. “That whole, uh…situation, there.”
Her new acquaintance’s bemusement only grew, as if she couldn’t believe the tact this idiot was taking. “Huh? Don’t you know muscle when you see it?”
“I know a muscle
head when I see it,” Nadia replied.
The redhead rolled her eyes, then raised her beer for another sip as she turned her attention back toward Terry’s brawl. “If that’s your best material, you should slink on out of here before you embarrass yourself further.”
Sighing, Nadia shook her head and took another sip herself. “Not my finest work,” she admitted as she set down the mug. “Still…purr-etty sure I got a way to make you see red, Red.” She reached over, sharpened the claw on her index finger, and flicked the other woman on the nose, opening a small cut.
The redhead furrowed her brow as she touched her hand to her nose When she saw blood on her fingers, she let out a heavy sigh, then abruptly smashed her half-full mug against the back of Nadia’s head like a powerful backhand. As shards of glass and droplets of booze flew in every direction, Nadia blacked out for a split second slumping down atop the counter. By the time she recovered, her attacker had hooked a foot around her stool and kicked it away from the bar, sending the feral sprawling on her back. As she groaned and got up on all fours, the redhead raised her arms, and two large, triangular, high-tech shields rose beside her. “My name is Asher,” she informed Nadia as she cracked her knuckles. “This ought to be quick.”
Nadia glanced up at the second floor to see money changing hands, and grinned. “Wow, such self-Asher-rance~”
Asher lashed out with a forward kick to knock her down again. When Nadia blocked it, she clicked her tongue, then brought her shields around, first the left and then the right. Nadia’s guard reduced both impacts to chip damage, and she retaliated with a couple quick claw slashes, only for Asher’s shields to combine into a single, diamond-shaped barrier that absorbed the blows. “Nice try.” They began to glow, and Nadia put her guard up just in time to block the ensuing energy blast, but when the shields parted Asher herself lunged forward to reach out and grab the feral, then lift her up by her jacket.
“Wha-!” As Nadia’s legs dangled beneath her, Asher punched her in the gut. “Blegh!” Her eyes bugged out as the wind was driven from her lungs, and the next moment Asher planted a foot against her stomach to send her flying a short way with a kick. As she sailed, Nadia sneakily let off a little extra blood to propel her toward a table, which she crashed through before coming to a stop in the wreckage. Before Asher could celebrate too soon, though, the feral staggered to her feet, wiping blood from her lip. “Sheesh,” she remarked, looking around at the destruction. “Talk about purr-operty damage!”
Her opponent charged, flying forward with the aid of a shield like a jet-propelled battering ram. This time, Nadia jumped, catching Asher with a headshot as she flipped over and landed behind her. Before the brawler could round on her, Nadia cut in with Cat Scratch. “Cut! It! Out!” Each attack tore out bright orange hair as she sliced Asher’s back with three rapid slashes. “Wreck-a yo face!” After that she opted for a standalone short-hop El Gato axe kick, which gave her foe ample time to turn and soak the blow with a shield. “Uh oh!” With the catgirl stuck on one leg, Asher sent the other shield low to sweep Nadia off her feet.
“Me-owch!” With a clang, she fell onto the floating shield, splayed across its surface. She looked up just in time to see the other one reorient downward, then descend, crushing her between both surfaces with a loud clang. Groaning, Nadia slid out and onto the floor.
“See?” Asher crossed her arms as her shields returned to her side. “Should have thought this through. Now look at you.”
Nadia slowly got to her feet, really exaggerating the wobble of her legs. “Ugh, I’m parched…” she complained. “I really should’ve ordered…Asher-ley Temple!”
Her opponent rolled her eyes, then threw her shields like buzzsaws, one after another. Nadia dodged to the right, then swerved to the left, then pivoted to hammer Asher’s stomach with a turn kick. Unfortunately her Mantread barely left a mark on the brawler’s six-pack, and she grabbed Nadia’s foot with both hands. Thinking quickly, Nadia hopped up and twisted around to hammer Asher’s nose with her other boot. Her opponent stumbled back and released the catgirl, who landed on her feet, then lunged forward with a flying straight punch straight to Asher’s nose.
“Damn it!” As blood trickled from her nose onto gritted teeth, she performed a pulling motion with her hand. Nadia realized what it meant just in time, and turned around to block the triangular shields a split second before they hit her from behind on their way back to Asher. When the second one hit her, the feral faked a guard crush, dramatically throwing her arms wide before blearily turning back around. For a brief moment she saw Asher reunited with her combined shields, and after that a concussive outburst of energy blasted her away through the tea house.
Outside, a certain pink-haired lalafell just so happened to be ambling along a nondescript Low Tier side street when the wooden wall of the fancy-looking tea house just ahead and to the left of her exploded in a burst of shrapnel. In the midst of the destruction Yayama could see a calico catgirl -not unlike a female Seeker of the Sun Miquo’te- dressed in dark blue, yowling as she flew across the alleyway and into the wall on the other side. Upon impact, the catgirl actually exploded, her body falling apart into a pile of dismembered limb segments as her head rolled to a stop at Yayama’s feet.
Then the head’s sea-blue eyes blinked open, and she stared at Yayama. “Oh, hi! Scuse me, just a sec.” Quickly her body parts came to life, extending muscle fibers in order to pull themselves together. A moment later, her reunited body grabbed her head and popped it back on the stump of her neck. “There we go!” Her tail waved cheerfully as she put her hands on her hips, smiling down at the diminutive lalafell. “No time to explain–I’m afraid I’ll have to be ‘short’ with you! Whoops, sorry, can’t help myself!” Waving apologetically, Nadia jogged back toward the hole in the wall, her wounds already closing. “Please don’t think ‘little’ of me! Agh, damn it, sorry!”
Once back inside Fengjian Teahouse, Nadia hurried back toward the bar, yelling up at the second floor. “Heyheyhey, what’re you handin’ out money for? The fight’s not over!” Of course, many of the watchers were focused on the four-way fight, but those who’d wagered on her or Asher were thrown for a loop.
As the surprised spectators settled back down, Asher scowled at Nadia. “Back for more?” She shook her head, incredulous. “How are you still standing?”
“I’m tougher than I look,” Nadia told her with a grin, pulling a three-inch splinter out of her forearm that she flicked away. “Now, if we’re done ‘kitten’ around…” For the first time since coming here, the feral assumed her actual fighting stance. “It’s time to kick some Ash!”
Compared to the nearby marketplace, there weren’t a great many people milling around outside the lone Buddhist temple that overlooked the Pools from the precipice of Mid Tier, but there were a variety of yokai that seemed to have made themselves home. Big Band recognized a handful of gaki, similar to the ones the Seekers met in the village north of Esaka, but rather than blows these ones were trading stories about various fighters that they each deemed the most ‘broken’ in the city’s tournament history. Upon overhearing them, Band thought for a moment that the gaki were comparing fighters who’d suffered the worst injuries, but a few seconds later he figured out that in Esaka’s parlance, ‘broken’ probably meant ‘unfairly strong’. He considered approaching the yokai for conversation, but he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to ask just yet, and there was one other factor that threw him off: the
bizarre tree in whose shade the gaki were chatting. Its blood-red leaves, slitted yellow eyes, clawlike branches, and protruding bones didn’t sit right with him. After a momentary side-eye, Band decided to leave them alone.
Band glanced over his shoulder, saw both Harry and Kim on his tail, then turned his attention back to the temple as he headed for the front door. Up close, the structure was every bit as impressive as it had been from afar, with bright red walls and a roof painted in a metallic tint that gleamed like gold, all beneath the watchful gaze of several long, serpentine dragons. While Band couldn’t help but wonder if those were yokai as well, their imperturbable stillness convinced him they were just statues, albeit rather lavish ones. It was quite unlike anything Band had ever seen, though that was par for the course these days. He also wondered if it might be against local customs for an ordinary person like him to intrude upon temple grounds, but he saw neither signage nor security, so after lumbering up the stone steps Band proceeded inside with Harry and Kim right behind.
Within, the trio of detectives found a half-dozen carefully arranged and lavishly decorated shrines, with characters, symbols, and figures meticulously carved on all the colorful walls, pillars, and altars. The fragrance of burnt incense filled the air, and sunbeams shone down on the brows of meditative Buddha statues through octagonal skylights. Band spent a moment or two just taking the whole scene in, which included the three resident yokai. One was a squat,
impish figure with golden feet that sat silently on a shrine.
Another leaned against a pillar idly, its yellow eyes staring at the newcomers from beneath a broad straw hat. Last but certainly not least, Band spotted a huge,
ghastly yokai with a lumpy, ovoid body that featured just two limbs, both with a single long, scythelike claw. It lay in a shadowy corner, snoozing, and whenever it opened its mouth to snore Band saw a thick purple tongue between its curved, tusklike fangs. He was not eager to make the monstrous thing’s acquaintance, so after making sure the Waira was sound asleep, Band headed toward the other two and kept his voice down.
“Hi there,” he greeted them. “Mind if we rest in here a minute? We’re new in town, see, and after walkin’ around so much we were just hopin’ to get outta the sun for a bit.”
The lucky imp said nothing -in fact, it didn’t so much as blink its beady red eyes- but the hat-wearing Chansin shook his head.
”Nah, go ahead. We don’t own the place or anything.”Band raised an inquisitive eyebrow, deftly sliding into interview mode. “Oh, for real? I figured these temples were where you yokai lived or somethin’.”
That seemed to prompt a dry chuckle from the Chansin.
“Hah, no. Us Yokai live in the Spirit World. We just like hanging out around these temples sometimes, when there’s nothing going on.” He looked around, his eyes narrowed at the dozing Waira.
”It’s pretty dead today. There’ll be more of us tomorrow once the Pools get going, though, and when we reach the finals on Sunday it’ll be packed.Band nodded sagaciously. “That’s right, y’all really like watchin’ the tournament fights, doncha?”
The Chansin gave Band an incredulous look.
”Uh, yeah. It’s nonstop entertainment week after week after week. The action, the top-level play, the storylines, the drama, the discourse!” He gazed off through the temple’s doorway longingly.
”Never gets old.”“I hear fightin’s how most Esaka folks get rich,” Band remarked thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinkin’ of enterin’ the next tournament myself. Any money in it?”
That comment earned him another chuckle.
”Well, tough luck there buddy, ‘cause this week’s signups just ended. But yeah.” The yokai stretched his arms.
“The cash rewards kick in once you reach Top Eight, though only first place really wins big. There’s a lot of arguing about the prize money split in Top Eight, people saying that the gulf between first and second is too big and stuff…I dunno.” He shrugged.
While that made sense, it wasn’t what Band wanted to hear about. “That ain’t it though, right? Where do you yokai factor in?”
The Chansin smirked beneath his red scarf.
”Real eager to make some moolah, huh? Well, it’s not like it’s a big secret or anything. We bet on whatever fights catch our fancy, and a share of the payout goes to the fighter who wins. And if we take a real shine to you personally, you might wake up one day with a nice little donation beneath your pillow. So if you want cash, better make sure we yokai like you.” He glanced over at the imp.
”Like that’ll ever happen, eh? Most of us tend to be a little…” He shrugged offhandedly.
”Fickle.”Band pursed his lips.
I’ll bet. Instead of saying that, though, he followed up with another question. “And it’s just you yokai that do the bettin’?”
”Well, uh…” The Chansin looked around furtively.
”I mean, it’s not exactly sanctioned, but plenty of people do it too, you know? Just using zenny and stuff instead of souls, which means it doesn’t go through the Heavenly Principles,” He whispered those last two words, as if afraid that said entity could hear him.
”You didn’t hear this from me, though, so don’t come crying to me if you get busted for gambling. Got it?” “Got it.” Band nodded, his expression serious. So, the spiritual currency of Esaka was souls, both yokai and regular fighters could obtain it, and it was linked to the Heavenly Principles in some way. Though he was just spitballing at this point, Band wondered if all transactions made with souls were somehow traceable by the Heavenly Principles. It made sense, if that nebulous entity was responsible for keeping order throughout the city, and it encouraged an insular economy since the currency wasn’t much good beyond Esaka’s borders. He tipped his hat to the two yokai, his voice still low. “I’ll leave y’all to it then, thanks for the tips.”
”See you around,” the Chansin told him.
Outside, Band reunited with Zenkichi, who told him what he’d overheard whilst meandering. If new iterations of dead fighters appeared faster than usual in Esaka, it made sense that the city’s inhabitants would be even more oblivious about the nature of life and death in the World of Light than usual. If fighters died in the tournaments with any regularity but nobody batted an eye, there was even less chance of people surviving long enough to pose a threat to Moebius.
A rat race of mayflies in a meat grinder, Band thought morbidly.
He tried to focus on Zenkichi’s other discovery. “Banishing Flats, huh?” Weird name for a motel, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I’d say we oughta go and check it out, but we ain’t exactly flush with cash at the moment. Guess we’ll have to wait and see if the others earn anythin’.” He turned his attention away from Chinatown and toward the rest of Esaka’s Mid Tier. “And in the meantime, guess we’ll keep lookin’.” With that, he picked a direction and marched off, curious to see where Roland had gone.
Upon successfully freezing Two-Toed Tom, Sandalphon was uncharacteristically eager to lead by example when it came to racking up damage on the frozen behemoth. In fact, she proved to be a little too eager. With Edward in the zone, coaxing as much speed and coordination out of the stagecoach’s draft animals as possible, the seekers were speeding across the flooded Safari Zone’s boardwalk toward the exit tunnel at full tilt. The moment Sandalphon raised her hexagun to resume pelting the giant gator, one of the stagecoach wheels struck an uneven board, and the ensuing jolt made the archangel slip. As it turned out, high heels did not make for very secure footing on the flat, featureless roof of a moving vehicle.
“Ah,” Sandalphon intoned, abrupt and deadpan, as her legs shot out from under her and she tumbled across the roof. Her pupils became stress marks, and a split second later, she flew off the rear end and into the open air. At this rate she knew she’d clear the wheels and not get run over, at least. With the rough planks of the boardwalk almost two stories beneath her, though, her fragile body would be in for a rough landing, to say nothing of what fate might be in store for her if she fell behind in Tom’s reach. Even in the midst of a crisis, though, the archangel kept a cool head. One hand shot out and grabbed hold of the
cage dangling from the stagecoach’s rear, her slender fingers latching onto the metal bars with everything they had. Now just a couple feet away from the captive Ratshaker rat, she could hear its frenzied wailing over the wind in her ears, but tried to tune it out. With her other hand Sandalphon clutched the barrel of her hexagun, and in such a manner Sandalphon held on for dear life as the stagecoach thundered onward.
The strain on her arm and shoulder was immense, but for the moment at least, Sandalphon’s grip held despite her meager strength. Her logical side knew she needed to tough it out for only another ten or fifteen seconds until the stagecoach reached safety, and that she could just heal herself afterward, but that wasn’t all that fortified her. Her nascent human side despaired at the possibility of her meeting such an inglorious end, and fueled her efforts with the flame of defiance. Her newfound sense of pride, both as an angel and as a leader, would not allow her to succumb. Or maybe that was just the adrenaline. Regardless, while she couldn’t pull herself up (let alone join in the others’ efforts to take out Tom), she would not be succumbing just yet.
As Mokou’s massive, self-destructive firebomb highlighted the Seekers’ frenetic fight against Tom, while Blazermate and Geralt worked to destroy the source of the monster’s malignancy from within, the stagecoach closed in on the tunnel where Heismay stood ready to rejoin it. With the end of the road in sight, but no end to Tom’s furor just yet, Edward bade the eugief to make himself useful and scout ahead as he drove the frenzied Reindrix forward. Understanding the strategist’s urgency, Heismay turned without a word and sprinted through the tunnel as fast as his little legs could take him.
The passage was dark but pretty much straight, with what passed for daylight nowadays visible at its far end and no obstacles or enemies that Heismay’s night vision could see. More importantly, it did seem just big enough to accommodate the huge stagecoach, but with only inches of clearance to spare–meaning that one currently riding atop the wagon’s roof would need to get clear to avoid a headlong collision with the rock wall overhead. With no time to warn the others, Heismay had to trust in his allies to save themselves, just as he needed to outpace the hooves of the Reindrix to save himself. He did not stop running, and only turned to look over his shoulder when a great, guttural rumble resounded from the flooded Safari Zone behind him. Sandalphon, still hanging on to the cage at the back of the stagecoach, looked over just in time to see Tom sink beneath the water, stubbornly clinging to life but thoroughly defeated. For a fraction of a second, she spotted Blazermate and Geralt afloat in the chilly water, surrounded by wicked-looking brambles as Ace skated over to help them. Then the stagecoach disappeared into the tunnel, and the Seekers were home free.
A few moments later, the stagecoach burst from the other end of the passage and into a small, neatly-kept plaza of sugar-dusted hedges, flickering oil lamps, and ornate wrought-iron fences. The exhausted Reindrix slowed down and came to a halt, their sides heaving as they fought to fill their lungs with the cold, wintry air. At the other end of the wagon, Sandalphon could finally relinquish her deathgrip on the Ratshaker rat’s cage, then sink to the snowy ground on her knees. Even Heismay, who’d narrowly avoided being trampled, was breathing heavily as he leaned on one of the black metal fences for support. The team’s encounter with Tom, fierce but brief, had taken a lot out of all of them. As the imminent return of Geralt and Blazermate proved, however, everyone had made it out alive. Even Ramattra, absent from the group since the Reaver woods, was here somehow. Heismay couldn’t begin to guess how the ominous omnic had managed to get here before everyone else, but he was glad to see another one of the campaign’s new recruits here too. That went for Mokou, too, since he could have sworn that he saw her explode back there. There was no sign, however, of Ramattra’s supposed travel companion.
With all the White Team members present and accounted for, Heismay turned his attention to the Seekers’ surroundings. On one side towered the enormous Botanical Garden building, its enormous glass barrel roof reinforced by a weblike array of steel struts. Next to it lay the huge central rotunda that the path through Krat Zoo had been steadily circling around, a greenhouse that seemed to contain a number of large, leafy trees, still green despite the winter outside. Since he couldn’t see any direct way into the greenhouse, Heismay assumed that it must connect to the adjacent Botanical Garden. The doorway to said building was wide open, though he didn’t care to venture inside just yet. On the other side of the Botanical Garden from the greenhouse, the zoo’s biggest
staf center stood, its
interior relatively intact. If this was the end of the line, Heismay wondered if the third and final Lost Viking might be hiding within.
On the other side of the plaza stood a high brick wall lined with hedges except for the large, heavy metal double doors in the middle, which to Heismay looked a lot like a rear exit. Just to be sure, he jumped up onto the wall, where the sight of the Midnight Walk leading off through snowy hills and coniferous woodland confirmed that the team was a stone’s throw away from freedom. In the distance, he could barely make out Moon Mountain silhouetted against the dark, cloudy sky, just a little bit bigger than before. “Should be no trouble getting through the doors,” he remarked before turning back toward the others. “I’d wager that our stalwart beasts could use a rest, though.” Seeing no danger in his immediate vicinity, he let out a long sigh of relief. “And they’re not the only ones, either. These old bones aren’t what they used to be…”
“Indeed, let us take some time to recover,” Sandalphon decided as she rose to her feet. “No more than twenty minutes if we can help it, though. We have a lot of ground left to cover, and it’s already almost noon.”
With a grunt of affirmation, Heismay hopped over to a lamp post to hang from it, upside-down, and keep watch.
Upon rising to her feet, Sandalphon climbed back into the stagecoach in the hopes of restoring some feeling to her numbed digits. When she sat by the stewpot and held her hands out over the steam, she realized that the vessel was about three-quarters full. “Won’t be long until there’s enough stew for everyone,” she informed the team. “If anyone has any quality, contaminant-free ingredients, now would be an opportune time to add them to the pot.”
When she could feel her fingers again, Sandalphon scrounged up the cryptic vessel from where it had fallen inside the stagecoach and resumed her work. Prior to encountering Tom, she’d actually made a lot of progress on the cipher. Though not an especially experienced cryptographer, she
was blessed with almost supercomputer-like mental faculties, making puzzles of this fashion child’s play. After a few more minutes, the cryptic vessel finally clicked open, divulging its hidden contents. These took the form of a single article of correspondence and a photo of what appeared to be a taxidermied crocodile. Someone had drawn on the photo in white ink, circling the crocodile’s mouth. While she didn’t recognize the taxidermy, its surroundings indicated that it must have been somewhere in the Hall of Adventure. After committing that to memory, she quickly scanned the accompanying letter.
Target neutralized. No notable actions observed. Taxidermy secured in excellent condition as ordered. You are now the sole master of the zoo. Congratulations, Lady M.“M…” Sandalphon’s pupils briefly became loading rings. Not Consul M, surely? “Markiona,” she said after a moment. She looked back at the photo, thinking, then opened her communication sigil. “Excuse me. If possible, I would like to make a request of anyone capable of flight or quick traversal. Please return to the Hall of Adventure and investigate the taxidermied crocodile. If you find anything out of the ordinary, please report it to me.”
With that, she stepped out of the stagecoach and into the cold. She glanced at the Reindrix, which were gnawing on the nearby plants hungrily, then looked at the Botanical Garden. Now that she’d remembered Markiona, the self-styled Puppeteer of Death, she couldn’t sit still. Where in Krat Zoo could this supposed mastermind be hiding, after all, if not in one of these last few buildings? “I would like to investigate the Botanical Garden for any signs of Markiona,” she announced, stepping forward. Since there was no telling what dangers she might encounter therein, she hoped that a few allies would volunteer to join her.
Member
DancesWMonsters
Archmage MC
Dyelli Beybi
TruthHurts
FujiwaraPhoenix
Bingelly
XoXKieroBombXoX
darkred
Zoey Boey
Starlance