Lugubrious

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Esaka - the Pools

Setting: Clear Thursday Afternoon
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (199/150) Level 11 Big Band (92/110)
Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Harry and Kim’s @Eviledd1984 Terry’s @Terry Bogard Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy
Word Count: 2370 / 1461

Even as she used the brief interlude before her duel’s final round to take a breather, Nadia kept one eye on her opponent. Maya looked pissed, that much was certain. Although that realization did fill the feral with glee, it by no means meant that she’d gotten into Maya ‘s head and would be guaranteed to win. After a moment the amazon returned Nadia’s gaze, replying to her cheeky grin with a baleful glare, but rather than spit barbed words Maya kept her mouth shut.

Not a good sign. Nadia had been getting under other people’s skin for the better part of twenty years, and when she really got to someone it tended to go one of two ways. Usually angry people got sloppy, becoming more liable to make mistakes and be tricked again, despite their best efforts. Some people, however, became possessed by a tranquil fury that empowered them to retaliate with ruthless, ice-cold precision. The more professional Nadia’s enemies, the more likely they’d be to keep a level head and make her regret her actions. But would that be Maya, or would the would-be hunter become the prey?

Time to find out.

FINAL ROUND: FIGHT!

Nadia burst forward in a four-legged sprint. For the deciding round, she needed to be both smart and aggressive, to leave her foe neither time to think nor room to work with. At the same time, Maya rolled, then sprang into the air with a long jump. As quickly as she could, Nadia rose, allowing her head to roll off her shoulders and across the ground as she leaped. The two fighters met and clashed in the air, hardened claws against curved daggers, and blood sprayed as they traded blows. Both fell, their aerial momentum thrown off-kilter by the other’s strike, and smacked into the ground.

They were on their feet the next moment, and no sooner had Maya risen than she hurled her a dagger. Vengeance bounced off Nadia’s guard and back toward its owner, the yellow glint in its hilt reminding the feral not to block these projectiles, just as Temperance whirled forward in its stead. This time Nadia jumped forward, only for Maya to catch her dagger and launch herself skyward in an anti-air kicked surrounded by luminous songbirds. As Nadia fell with a frustrated snarl, her opponent performed a calculated safe jump, landing at point-blank range just as the catgirl took action. For once, though, Nadia didn’t attempt a reversal; on one hand she didn’t have enough Dramatic Tension (if she did, she definitely would have) and on the other, she actually remembered that her Fiber Upper had lost its priority. Instead she tried a throw, latching into Maya’s guard as cords of muscle fiber swarmed out of her seams like tentacles to wrap her foe up in a ball of living yarn. “Plies reconsider!” After a second of play, she tossed Maya out in a specific direction, then pulled herself together to dash forward, unable to combo in time.

She unleashed her Cat Scratch rekka just far enough for the first lunging slash to carry her into Maya’s block. “One, two! Buckle my shoe!” She somersaulted, one leg extended, to finish with an El Gato axe kick. Maya knew the timing, having seen this before, and Nadia knew she knew. When the amazon took advantage of the brief gap to interrupt her foe with a double knife slash, Nadia’s detached head slammed into the back of her knee, propelled by a jet of blood from her neck. She grunted in pain, staggered by the counterhit, and ate the Axe Kick the next second.

Nadia’s El Gato left her opponent’s nose bloodied as she bounced into the air. She dashed forward, caught Maya with two light slashes, lashed her with her Fishbone Flop light kick, then thrust her arm forward in a corkscrew spearfinger. A one-two hit of upside-down-kick into tail smack let her combo into the first hit of a medium Cat Scratch, then fire off Furrserker Purrage using one stock of freshly-built Tension. “I’ll clean your claw-ck!” After several rapid claw slashes, her headless Blockbuster concluded with an upward arm drill sure to leave Maya smarting. “Get the point?”

When Maya slammed down behind her, she rolled backward and hurled both daggers, one after another. Temperance stuck just below Nadia’s ribs, eliciting a guttural choking sound as she reflexively blocked the next projectile. Maya rolled forward as her opponent backed away, snatching Vengeance the moment it hit the ground, and launched a quick flurry of slashes. It ended with a twist as she whirled around to grasp the knife in Nadia’s abdomen and wrench it free, which staggered the catgirl enough for Maya to execute a quick combo of her own. She launched upward with Leap Kick, threw a dagger downward to juggle her foe, then landed to bombard her airborne opponent with a barrage of slashes and kicks (aided by a quick, well-timed assist call from Mira) before finishing with her Tumble Kick ender for a hard knockdown and maximum damage. “Stay down!”

“Meowch,” Nadia groaned, rolling away from her foe’s pressure on wake-up. She checked Maya’s aggression with a disjointed shove that she couldn’t convert into a combo, then dashed forward. Maya flipped away, connecting her dagger’s hilts, so in anticipation of a throw Nadia did likewise. Unfortunately, the combined power of her foe’s weapons allowed the resulting twinblade to bounce off the floor and into her as she sailed away, before she could attempt any airdashes. “Nya-huh!?” Wincing, she plopped back down and tumbled backward, close to the laser ropes that marked the stage’s edge. In that moment, though, she could see both daggers stuck in the ground. This was her chance!

“On the hunt!” In dismay, Nadia watched as Maya’s daggers flew back toward her under the influence of some magic power. “Hah!” She laughed as she flourished her weapons.

Nadia scoffed, grinning. “Robo, drone!”

As the Kameo obliged, Maya launched her assault. She hurled her daggers one after another, stepping forward between each toss. Nadia darted left and right, but even if a projectile missed her it bounced off the ropes behind her and right back toward its owner. It was only a matter of time before Maya caught her on the rebound, leaped forward to catch her dagger mid-air, then landed with a punishing combo. A furious storm of dagger slashes ended with a wheeling sweep kick into backflip kick, but just as the pain seemed over with, Mira appeared to recapture the feral with a scything slash of silver blood. “Gah!”

Maya combined her daggers and sent them swirling into Nadia like a buzzsaw, shaking her head with mocking disappointment before cartwheeling forward to the combo. She tossed both daggers, collected them with a roll, tossed them again, leaped up to catch them, then landed to perform a double sweep kick into Shadow Leap Kick, her golden songbirds a contrast against her purple aura.

Nadia slammed down, her body shaken into loosely-connected segments by Maya’s assault. Grimacing, she pulled herself together just in time to scoot away from the amazon’s double dagger plunge with jets of blood. She rolled to her feet, bloody and aching. “...Sh-sheesh! You tryin’ to kill me?” Whatever Maya had done to empower herself, it seemed to be gone now, but things were looking dire. With her natural regeneration neutered by the Heavenly Principles, she couldn’t afford to take another full combo.

Her opponent just grinned, only interested in finishing the fight. She did not advance, however, and Nadia wondered why her foe wouldn’t rush in to finish her off until she remembered that these matches were timed. If she didn’t make a comeback, she would lose no matter what, and if Maya held her ground she’d be less likely to fall prey to the same sort of shenanigans that ended round two. Nadia took a deep breath. “Robo, drone me!”

Her Kameo looked at her dubiously, but followed along. “...Launch, headdrone.” Her head blasted off to join the other two floating behind Nadia, replaced the next moment as another head rotated up from Robo-fortune’s head compartment.

“Alright.” Nadia wiped blood off her cheek and smiled. “Meow it’s purr-sonal!”

She took off her head, rolled it forward like a bowling ball, and sprinted past it. As she approached, her head sneezed to launch itself in an arc over Maya and hopefully cross her up. Maya responded with Leap Kick, soaring into the air a split second after Nadia’s noggin passed overhead. The sight of a whiffed reversal both surprised and excited the feral, and she raced closer, ready to punish. At the apex of her leap, however, Maya twisted around to hurl Temperance downward. The purple dagger lodged beneath Nadia’s collarbone, catching her by surprise, and without delay Maya plunged downward in a Mantis dive. “Enough!” The catgirl yanked out the blade, then hurled it downward just before Maya swooped down and slid her a couple dozen feet on her back.

After cartwheeling off her opponent, Maya realized just how far she’d gotten from her purple dagger. There was no time to think, though, with victory at her fingertips. With expert timing she threw Vengeance to catch Nadia’s wake-up, only for her to wake up with Furrserker Purrage. “Cat Scratch Fever!” The barrage of slices shrugged off the projectile, then carried Maya back toward the center of the arena in blockstun. That left her separated from both daggers, but free to punish Nadia’s blocked Blockbuster at her leisure–or so she thought.

“Fur-get something?”

Maya instinctively whirled around to face Nadia’s head behind her, anticipating a blow that would interrupt her punishment. Instead she saw the head just sitting there, using both ears to wave as she grinned deviously from ear to ear. Realizing the ploy, she turned back around to block Nadia’s body as she recovered, only for the head to burst forward and chomp her on the calf anyway. “Ack!”

“Omnomnomnom!” Nadia’s body got to work, kicking the combo off with Flying Screen Door into El Gato for a ground bounce. From there an aerial light kick led into another Flying Screen Door she canceled with a bloody airdash, followed by aerial light punch, Footloose, and another axe kick the instant before she landed. Rather than going for her customary forward dash into double light slash, she opted for her Unchain Starter - Step, itself a low-profile dash that let her follow up with an Under Blow punch, Assault kick, and Hammer Blow punch. Finally, her Unchain Combo came to an end with a rolling reverse axe kick that sent Maya tumbling. “Tin Cans,” Nadia called, panting. “...Fire!”

“Command received.” When Maya regained her feet, still without her daggers, she looked up to find a volley of twelve moussiles blasting off into the sky, four from each headdrone at Nadia’s disposal. They arced downward, tracking every move she made. At one point Maya got hit and called in Mira to break the combo, but there were so many missiles that she couldn’t escape. In the end, Maya realized she had no choice but to block. She gritted her teeth and endured the explosions’ chip damage, but when the smoke cleared and she lowered her scorched arms, the amazon couldn’t see her foe anywhere.

“Over here!”

Once again Maya whirled to face her foe, only to see nothing more than her head. As she stared, momentarily frozen, the smoke behind her cleared to reveal Nadia’s body plunging downward in a dramatic dive kick, her leg spinning like a drill bit. It slammed into her back, hitting repeatedly, before the feral’s body became a bolt of lightning that blitzed straight through Maya into a hero landing by her head. As the blast launched Maya, Nadia took a second to put her head on straight, then jumped up to punctuate the Charge with Battery in the form of a two-hit Footloose. Finally, she grabbed Maya in an airthrow and began to spin. “Haaaaaah…!” Jets of blood from her seams propelled her faster and faster, until finally she released her grip and hurled Maya straight at the floor. “Knife knowin’ ya!”

THUNK! Nadia’s foe hit the ground and crumpled, instantly unconscious, and the feral landed a moment later. She just watched for a couple seconds, scarcely daring to breathe, until the Heavenly Principles cemented her victory.

MS FORTUNE AND ROBO-FORTUNE WIN!

Nadia doubled over, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Her body still hurt from all the cuts and kicks, and all the blood she’d lost (or spent) left her head dizzy, but she’d won. Quite decisively, too. Her finishing move hadn’t been fatal, but she’d be surprised if Maya went into the Losers’ bracket at full strength after that impact. When Robo-fortune came over to check on her, Nadia cheekily jumped into her arms, forcing her doppelganger to bridal-carry her. “We did it, we did it, we did it! We’re still in this!” She wrapped an arm around Robo’s shoulders. “Get your ro-butt to a spa or somethin’, pal, it’s time to celebrate!”

Deadpan as ever, Robo-fortune dropped her. Ms Fortune’s effective weight led to a heavy plop on the wrestling ring as her detached arm remained on Robo’s shoulders, until the machine brushed it off like a speck of dust. “This is only the second round,” she stated. “Do not get ahead of yourself.”

In the middle of picking herself up with a groan, Nadia froze, staring at Robo. “A-head?” She tossed her head up and down like a ball. “That was a pun! You punned!”

“I did not,” Robo insisted.

“You did too! A purr-fect pun-chline!”

Leaving Mira to look after Maya, the two took off, arguing about puns, where to go next, and how much celebration a hard-fought round-two pools win was worth.

---

After a quick rebooting process, Big Band’s inorganic opponent was back on her feet. A couple exploratory motions and techniques confirmed that all systems were operational again, so Chel moved to a spot opposite the detective, facing him as she did. “¡Buen asalto!” she complimented him, emulating a human’s stretching motions with her mechanical limbs. “Pero tengo mucha más gasolina en el depósito.” But I have much more gas in the tank. When Band didn’t respond right away, and she noticed him struggling to breathe through his broken respirator, the mech cocked her head at him. “Oye, ¿estás bien?”

Band took a deeper breath and cleared his throat. “Ahem! I’ll be fine. You worry about yourself.”

His adversary nodded, and the next moment, their second round began.

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

Band advanced slowly, one heaving step at a time, while Chel fired her first shot. “¡Estrella!” When she saw Band block it, she decided to go out on a limb and fly forward with Stinging Wind, a variant on her wind kicks. It took just one kick to get into range, and after that both her second kick and ensuing palm strike connected. Her strikes barely moved Band, or depleted his impressive vitality, so he gambled that she would be unsafe and unable to follow up on her technique.

Sadly, he guessed wrong, and his attempt to hit her low with the drum pedal from Hot Socks flat-out missed as she launched a swift high kick with the leg he’d been aiming at. The blow struck him square in the chest, eliciting a grunt. Since it didn’t lead to a combo, Band counter-poked with his bike horn, hitting Chel’s head twice as she attempted to execute a low chop. He honked one too many times, though, and the third pushed his foe just far enough away that he couldn’t connect with a trombone slide from his knee, and the next moment Chel landed her low chop.

That move also linked into itself, but unlike Band she could follow up the third repetition with Stinging Wind, and this time she landed every hit. Its final, energy-infused palm pushed Band far enough back that Chel could start zoning again, and soon several Night Suns were headed his way, each ball of plasma more brilliant than the last. “¡Estrella! Estrella!” As Band hopped over the second one, Chel took to the air to fire downward. It zapped him in the middle of a dash. “¡No, no!”

Band’s nostrils flared as he grew impatient. “Take five!” He bulled forward with a medium Brass Knuckle, moving just far enough forward to strike his target–specifically, strike her guard. Although she could definitely feel that hit through her defenses, it was unsafe enough that she could counter it. Producing an energy blade from her arm cannon, she lunged forward with a double stab, then finished up the target combo with a one-two energy slash into Crush Breeze. Her uppercut lifted the much bigger Band into the air, where she could spike him downward, bounce him off the ground, and then finish with Stinging Wind. Even without meter, that string hurt, and now she’d gathered enough power to make her next combo hurt even more.

Grumbling, Band teched backward off the ground, gaining enough distance to compose himself. He correctly predicted more Night Suns incoming and continuously side-stepped to circle around his foe. When he executed a Giant Step, Chel recognized the move with enough time to leap off the ground, flipping her opponent’s way. Band had an answer for this, but in his rush to anti-air her with Brass Knuckles he forgot about how Chel had psyched him out in round one. Sure enough, she stopped her air momentum with a downward plasma shot, and though Band’s armor soaked it his tambourine halves snapped shut on nothing.

She landed before he recovered, but took no action, biding her time. When the detective closed the distance with a big step to try and throw her, she leaped away and fired downward again, forcing him to block. Her spacing and timing were still solid, and despite her peppy, energetic demeanor, it didn’t seem like she’d get bored of zoning any time soon. Band continued to chase her down with a light Brass Knuckle. What this move lacked in armor it made up for in safety, and since Chel didn’t know to try and strike through it, she tried to punish with a kick afterward only for Band to parry it with a high hat cymbal. “Mm hm,” he murmured over the clashing sound. His Noise Cancel gave him all the time he needed to land Hot Socks and start a combo.

Eager to make up for lost time, Big Band laid into his opponent with a whole orchestra’s worth of brass instruments, sounding out a musical melee with trombone, saxophone, and clarinet. Chel had a lot of things going for her in this matchup, but damage output wasn’t one of them, while for the detective it just so happened to be the opposite. His baritone beatdown quickly exceeded the damage done to him by his foe, giving him the lead, but just after he used the Sound Stun from Beat Extend about halfway through the combo, his lightweight opponent slipped from his grasp, touched down, and put up her guard.

The next second his Air Mail Special smacked her guard, a move so unsafe that Chel had no trouble punishing with a combo of her own. “Te tengo!” Her energy blade stabs linked into a low surgical blade stab, followed by a Night Sun canceled with one bar of Kinetic energy. The resulting dash let her build off the plasma shot with a close-range rising blade strike, then another shot canceled with Kinetic Advance. This time, her heavy blade slash transitioned into Dancing Wind, and once the high kick launched Band, a Crush Breeze uppercut ended the combo with a bang.

The detective fell heavily and rose blocking low as Chel kept up the pressure. Sure, her damage wasn’t great, but now she was back in the lead and his mistakes were mounting. If he’d managed to finish his combo earlier, he’d probably be one more solid hit away from winning, but if he continued to squander his chances his windows for victory would continue to close. Now Band began to doubt himself, missing chances to anti-air or close distance with Brass Knuckles lest he be predicted and fall further behind.

At a certain point, he was tempted just to give up, to call this round a wash and mentally reset himself for the final round. But Big Band wasn’t one to throw in the towel. He bided his time, then once totally assured of himself, unleashed a reversal Super Sonic Jazz to bash through Chel’s attack and deal a boatload of damage. “Horn Crush!” Ba-ba-ba-BAM! That final flip tossed his foe behind him, where he landed a heavy Giant Step for good measure.

He took the brief moment afforded to him before Chel started shooting to play a tune with Bagpipe Blues. After blocking one plasma shot, he slid forward with a heavy Brass Knuckle to armor through the next one, planning to cut his slide short with Emergency Break so that he couldn’t be punished on block. To his surprise, though, Chel canceled her Night Sun by overcharging her arm blaster. “Super…Nova!” A huge plasma ball blasted forward, completely stripping Band’s armor as it knocked him to the floor.

Now in really bad shape, Band fought to get up as Chel zoomed forward, propelled by jets of energy from her palms. Knowing that he now had armored normals thanks to Bagpipe Blues, he filled his lungs, then deployed his massive tuba to stun his foe with Overblow. Unfortunately for him, once she got into range Chel fired off as many crouching lights as she could, each tiny bit of hitstop pausing Band’s uninterruptible Overblow as the damage quickly piled up. On the fifth low chop, Band’s strength gave out, and his tuba retracted as he fell to his knees. “Uuuuugh…” As he fell forward, Chel yelped and just barely got out of the way of his falling form in time. The impact shook the pier, and after the dust settled the Mexican mech raised her arms in celebration.

“¡ La victoria es mía!” After a little fist pumping, she stepped forward and leaned down, extending a hand. “¡Vamos! No has terminado todavía, ¿verdad?” Come on! You’re not done yet, are you? In some ways, though, Band definitely wished that he was.

CHEL WINS!

---

At Chevalier’s direction, the Seekers who composed both Team B and Team C would eventually make their way to the High Tier of Esaka, at which point the comrades split into their designated subdivisions to track down their respective targets. Although neither Azucena nor Lucky Chloe were direct subordinates to the infamous Kazuya Mishima, and were responsible for no war crimes that the United Nations were aware of, they were still G-Corp accomplices who directly and unscrupulously benefited their sponsor’s heinous acts, and they could not be allowed to lend their strength to Kazuya if called into action. Chevalier did not mandate that the two be assassinated, so a nonviolent solution would be permitted as long as it definitely got the two away from Esaka and out of the picture.

In order to target Azucena, Team B made for a metropolitan square in the busiest part of the High Tier’s ring-shaped urban cityscape. They didn’t need to look far to find Azucena; the Peruvian martial artist’s smiling face and unmistakable coffee brand were plastered across several huge electronic billboards, evidence of her substantial financial backing. A few such displays offered live feeds of current Pools matches, but other than that one could be forgiven for forgetting about the tournament occurring just two tiers down. The Seekers also didn’t take long to find their contact. In a ultra modern setting, a lady knight of the sixteeth century stood out quite prominently. Dressed head to toe in polished silver armor, the red-headed swordswoman stood tall and proud as she awaited her new associated, a sword at her waist and a standard in one hand.

When approached, Hildegard von Krone nodded her head in greeting. “Well met,” she told them in a somewhat stiff German accent. “Azucena is nearby, running a publicity event. She’s taking challenges in street fights in an effort to prove the power of her coffee. Some of her challengers are paid actors, but she’s attracting a few real ones, too. It won’t be hard to fight her, but to deal with her in broad daylight…who knows. Especially with two Gigas bodyguards close at hand.” The knight looked down at her dazzling armor self-consciously. “Whatever we do, we should keep this…discreet. Ja?”

At the same time, the members of Team C reached the fancy (if somewhat ominous) opera house where Lucky Chloe was scheduled to perform in a couple days’ time. Right now, the venue was empty except for the production crew, working their magic to remodel the classical structure into a pop-rock concert hall, with all the modern audio equipment one could ask for. When the Seekers stopped outside, they could see plenty of Lucky Chloe’s staff milling around the area, but no sign of the woman herself.

Instead, they found Darun Mister, a huge, musclebound Indian wrestler with a long, razor-sharp mustache, black wrestling trunks, and not much else. “Ah, there you are!” Darun waved the Seekers over. “This is where Lucky Chloe’s having her Saturday night concert. Her people are all over the place, busy making preparations. I have not seen her, but hopefully she is nearby.” He directed his contacts’ attention toward a promotional standee of the young woman herself, distinguished by her long blonde pigtails and copious cat affectations, including a garish pink bolero jacket with attached cat-paw sleeves. “Maybe we split up, ask around. Without drawing too much attention. Could pose as fans, though if I tried it, I don’t think they’d buy it. Security is already looking at me funny.” The wrestler gestured toward the security bots roaming the area, then chuckled, crossing his arms. “Maybe one of you’d have more luck.”

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Esaka - the Pools

Setting: Clear Thursday Afternoon
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (196/150) Level 11 Big Band (89/110)
Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Harry and Kim’s @Eviledd1984 Terry’s @Terry Bogard Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy
Word Count: 2080 / 1933

After stooping to pick up her fallen daggers with a flourish, Maya stepped away from where Nadia lay on the wrestling ring, smirking as she crossed to the other side of the stage to reset the fighters’ positions. “You’re not worthy prey.” When she reached Mira, she did not congratulate or high-five her half-sister, but simply stopped and stood there with a casual confidence. Though she was breathing heavier from her exertion, the amazon was ready to finish the match.

Nadia, meanwhile, never actually lapsed into consciousness, but it took a few seconds for her new cuts to scab over and her second wind to kick in. Determined to not give her opponent the satisfaction of seeing her groan, she composed herself in silence, her breathing and heart rate accelerated. “Heh, not bad!” A playful smile covered her face, but it belied the nerves beneath. It had been a while since she’d been so thoroughly worked over, barring serious opponents like Guardians and Consuls. Even if she had the time to think the match over, analysis and reflection weren’t her forte. With her nerves rattled by the beatdown, could she get it together in time for a comeback?

She didn’t notice Robo-fortune until the robot bent down to bodily pick her up and plant her on her feet, holding on just long enough to make sure that Nadia was steady. The unsolicited aid surprised her, since she’d half-expected Robo to be nursing such a grudge that she wouldn’t mind throwing a match just to see Nadia lose. Even now she expected a scathing rebuke. Instead of criticism, though, the dispassionate doppelganger offered her just the bit of insight she needed. “Suggestion: stop blocking her knife throws. Doing so seems to power them up in some way.”

Don’t block? After a wide-eyed second, Nadia gave a curt nod. That sounded just fine to her. It had been second-nature to easily block those projectiles, but dodging them wouldn’t be much harder, and she hated blocking anyway. “Got it.”

“Hey! No mid-match coaching!” A young woman’s voice, high-pitched but intentionally made as growly as possible, reached the two from the sidelines. Both looked over to see Ferra riding piggy-back on her brutish partner Torr, both fresh from their first Losers-side match against Hsu Hao. Of course, the catgirls didn’t know who they’d been up against, but judging by the blood dripping from the duo's weapons it probably didn’t matter any more.

The two split up, Robo vaulting over the ring’s wrestling ropes while Nadia turned to face Maya. “Oh?” Her opponent smiled as she got ready to fight. “Does the kitty want another scratching?”

Sharpening her claws, the feral flashed a toothy grin. “Fangs for the warm-up. Now, let’s fight ‘fur’ real!”

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

This time, Nadia did not blindly rush into action, but stood firm. She watched Maya walk forward, calling Mira as she approached. When Mira jumped in, she shaped streams of silver blood into a six-foot scythe then burst forward, its blade dragging along the ground. At the same time, Maya threw herself into a forward roll that ended with a spring, launching her toward Nadia in a long, low hop that would take her over her opponent’s head.

Right away Nadia realized she had only one instant to decide where to block. High or low? Forward or backward? It was a dirty mixup, and she was almost impressed. Her eyes were sharp, though, and her reflexes were good. More importantly, in the heat of battle, the feral was too caught up in the moment to second-guess herself. She ducked down to avoid any fly-by attacks from Maya as she soared overhead, which allowed her to block Mira’s upward scythe swing. Its lethal point still hurt a bit when it slammed into her guarding arms, but the blow jarred Mira as well, leaving her off-balance.

By then, Maya had landed behind her, and Nadia whirled around just in time to see her foe flip over for a double cartwheel kick. “Hah!” Straightening her legs, the catgirl blocked the first kick, then the second that followed it. When Maya went for a double overhead knife plunge, however, Nadia went low again. She bent forward enough that her chin almost touched the floor as she extended her arms like the stakes of a barricade. “Hand-le this!” Her nails sank into the ribs of both fighters, and when Nadia snapped her arms back the next second, Maya and Mira stumbled forward and into one another.

“Taste de-feet!” Leaving Mira to retreat, Nadia launched into her first real combo with gleeful aplomb. She planted her hands to deliver a One-Two Punisher, striking first with a disjointed kick and then with her tail. From there she stabbed her hardened ears into the ground, then whirled her legs and tail around like a giant upward propeller. “Tail n’ nails!” A light Fiber Upper launched Maya into the air, and after snapping up to her hyper-extended Mantreads, the feral flipped once before landing an aerial light kick into X-Scrape Claws. “Alley_cat-OOP!” A quick somersault allowed her to bounce Maya off the ground with an axe kick.

She landed on her feet, dashed forward, and caught her foe with two light slugs. “Cat pun-ch!” Still grinning, she delivered a Fishbone Flop, then took off her head and spun it like a drill with one rotating hand. “Stick to the bit!” A couple moves later, she wrapped her combo up with a three-hit Cat Scratch rekka into her level-one blockbuster, Furserker Purrage. One manic chain of upward and downward slashes later, she finished with a headbutt that knocked Maya against the laser ring.

The amazon was on her feet in a flash, wincing both from the barrage of blows and her newly-burned back. “So you do have some fight left in you!” She had no time to talk, though, with Nadia’s head already bumped like a volleyball and on its way.

When the feral tried to give Maya a taste of her own medicine, though, she stopped it short with a hurled dagger, then launched her Leap Kick to anti-air the head. “Ow!” Nadia yelped, her head sailing away just as her body blocked Maya’s purple dagger, Vengeance. Sure enough, the gem in its hilt began to glow with some sort of power, just as Robo said. ”Damn it, she breathed. Her head hit the ground behind her body with a splat as Maya threw her other dagger and rolled forward to collect the first. This time she dove to the side to avoid blocking Temperance, the dagger landing blade-first only about a foot away from Nadia’s head. “Whoa!”

Maya then sprinted toward her lost property, which gave the feral an idea. “Metal cat, puppy guard!” At her command, her Kameo leaped in to fire a heavy Theonite Beam at Maya. Surprised, she managed to sidestep, only for Nadia’s body to come at her from behind. The claw slashes of her Cat Scratch rekka put Maya on the defensive. When Nadia’s body ended with an unsafe El Gato, Maya went to punish her, only for a blast of blood from the catgirl’s neck to smack her head into her foe’s ankle. “Cattering ram!” Her body didn’t have enough time to combo off the counterhit, but a throw seemed like a safe bet. Sure enough, Maya tried to back toward Temperance while blocking, and once Nadia got her hands on her foe she delivered a palm thrust, knee lift, and palm uppercut to floor Maya once more.

Nadia pulled off her tail and went for a hefty downward chop at her downed opponent. Her hack fell a little too early, and with a panther’s grace Maya rolled sideways, snatched up her other dagger, and then sprang into the air. As she vaulted over the catgirl’s headless body, she readied her weapons for throwing, but this time Nadia was one step ahead. With her tail-blade right next to her head on the ground, she chomped down on the end of her tail, then swung the impromptu sword and released her bite at just the right moment to send her noggin flying. “Heads up!” It slammed into Maya’s stomach a split second before she hurled her daggers, throwing off her aim just enough that both stuck into the ground at Nadia’s feet.

“Haha, knife try!” As Maya flipped away and landed on her feet, the catgirl chased her down, catching her falling head on the way. She popped it on, then ran straight into a low kick from Maya. “Oh, hell nyah…” Gritting her teeth, she endured a series of cartwheel kicks, followed by a double knife slash, double whirling sweep kick, a backflip kick that popped her the other direction, and a songbird upper-kick followed by a powerful Shadow Version of the same move. “Ugh.” As Nadia sprang backward, Maya ran forward, then tried to grab her. For once in her life the feral actually saw it coming and managed to fend off her foe’s grasping hands, pushing the two away from one another.

Immediately Maya threw Vengeance and caught Nadia in the face, though since this didn’t result in a Vengeance charge or a combo the feral wasn’t deterred. She threw herself forward with Cat Slide, and Maya jumped away. In midair she somehow inverted her trajectory and dove forward, her Temperance blade raised for a plunging assault. She landed on Nadia right after the latter got up and slid on top of her a short distance before plunging her dagger beneath her foe’s shoulderblade. She then flipped off, calling her sister. Mira jumped in to provide fire support with three batlike projectiles as Maya collected her lost dagger.

“Oof…you don’t know when to quit! Robo, drone me!” Nadia took off running around the ring as a headdrone from her Kameo joined her, outspeeding the homing of Mira’s silvery Blood Seekers. This round had really heated up. Both fighters had landed a combo, although Nadia’s had been much better. Now Maya knew that she really couldn’t afford to get touched, but nobody could fight perfectly. When the amazon moved to intercept her, Nadia had a plan.

She skidded to a stop so suddenly that her head rolled off her shoulders and then fell into her hand. Like a baseball player she hurled it at Maya, but the amazon was ready. With Cobra Bite, an upward knife slash, she opened a long, bloody cut on Nadia’s face as it flew away. Then she threw her own daggers, one after another. Their impact drove Nadia into the laser ropes right behind her, and when she touched them she recoiled from the sizzling flash, stumbling forward. Maya smelled blood and cannon forward with a flying kick.

In the nick of time, Nadia recovered, and revealed her Blue Monday counter. Even though Maya’s kick connected, it was her that got popped up by the feral’s knee instead, allowing Nadia to grab and side-slam her backward. Maya smacked into the laser ropes face-first and blasted, smoking, into the air. With just one eye open, Nadia’s head smiled through the pain at the sight of her helpless opponent. “You really…blue it!” As Maya fell, the catgirl’s body leaped up, grabbed her out of the air, and unceremoniously tossed her down into the water beyond the wrestling ring’s edge.

PLOOSH!

MS FORTUNE AND ROBO-FORTUNE WIN!

As Mira nonchalantly watched her half-sister drag herself up from the water, Nadia grabbed her head and took a quick breather, cackling to herself (despite her blood loss) as she returned to her Kameo’s side. The handful of onlookers assembled nearby seemed entertained, if nothing else. A second-round winners-side pools match probably didn’t warrant much attention, even for Mortal Kombat. “See that, Robo? Down for the count-er!” Maybe she was just imagining it, but even Robo-fortune looked amused.

Truth be told, though, Nadia was a lot more relieved than she let on. Her comeback was all thanks to her foe’s mental state: once she got serious, a professional duelist like Maya had been so focused on the fight that she hadn’t anticipated a cheap trick. That probably wouldn’t work a second time, though, so she’d need to keep her head on straight for the final round. With momentum on her side, though, how could she lose?

---

When Band finally reached the stage for his third pools match, he was happy to see that it wasn’t a rickety wooden raft this time, at least. Of course, a free-standing wharf surrounded by gondolas (which a couple yokai spectators had already claimed as front-row seats for the upcoming fight) wasn’t much better, but at least he didn’t need to worry about flimsy boards buckling beneath him.

Probably.

Instead, it seemed like he’d be primarily worried about his opponent. Just after Band got close enough to view the stage for himself, he saw a white robot a couple dozen feet ahead of him leap from the walkway, flip nimbly through the air, and land on the dock with ease. As he approached, Band narrowed his eyes to try and get a read on her. Although she stood a couple heads shorter than the cyborg, she seemed to be one hundred percent mechanical, even if her face and overall shape closely mirrored that of a human female. Primarily white with bronze accents, she looked lightweight and agile, not least thanks to a helmet that resembled the beak of some tropical bird and the ponytail of red metal feathers that hung behind her like a knight’s plume. He even managed to catch a glimpse of the inscription on her collar: IX-CHEL. This was definitely his next opponent.

When Band jumped over the gap to the stage, landing with a grunt, Chel turned his way. “Ooh! Se aproxima el robot gigante!” Just as with Victor Chevalier and Heihachi Mishima, the detective was cognizant of the machine speaking a foreign language, yet somehow he still understood her meaning. The giant robot approaches! This automatic translation still confused him. Could ‘mutual understanding’ be a decree of the Heavenly Principles? Well, no time to think about it now.

“Not me, miss,” he replied, trusting that his own speech wouldn’t be lost in translation. “I’m mostly metal nowadays, but the parts o’ me that matter are still one hundred percent human.” He extended a little mechanical pincer to tip his hat, revealing his middle-aged face. “The name’s Big Band. I’m all there is of the most real.” He had yet to tire of using his introductory catchphrase.

Chel gave him a peppy wave. “Hola, señor Band!” She then raised both arms, pointing two thumbs toward herself. “Salude a la heroína. Me llamo Ana Itza, y este es mi mech Chel!” Greet the heroine. I call myself Ana Itza, and this is my mech Chel. The robot extended her arms, playing to the crowd, such as it was. “¿Listos, todos? Vamos patear algunos traseros!”

The detective snickered. He hardly needed the Heavenly Principles to understand when someone wanted to kick his butt. “Good luck with that!”

More importantly: if this robot was actually a mech, did that mean that there was a tiny person somewhere inside it…?

ROUND ONE: FIGHT!

“Gimme a hit!”

“...Estrella!”

Band started off with Brass Knuckles to test the waters, while Chel dashed backward. The detective’s giant slide punch fell just short, and before he fully recovered, his foe tagged him with an energy blast from a small cannon formed around one arm. It didn’t hurt all that much, but it gave Chel a chance to push forward with a quick one-two, each punch augmented by the plasma jets in her palms. Band blocked it with his music stand, then answered in kind with a jab from his musical triangle, which Chel also blocked while backing up slightly.

She then launched a high, long-legged roundhouse kick that caught Band pushing forward at the very edge of her range, which she could only combo into another Night Sun plasma shot. Playing the range game, eh?” Band crouched down to belt out a row of pipe organs, aimed low. Chel was already backing up, though, and her fast walk speed put him beyond even Low Rank’s range. Anticipating another projectile, Band jumped forward, his massive frame airborne for only a brief moment. His foe turned out to be more patient than he expected, though, and another high roundhouse kick anti-aired him.

“Estrella!” Knocked down, Band teched backward, far enough away that the Night Sun he predicted didn’t combo, but did force him to block. “Haha!” The next moment she launched forward into a flying triple kick, the first two hitting nothing but the third connecting with Band’s guard at the very tip of its range, which allowed her to land with enough to to block her opponent’s would-be punish as his saxophone uppercut clanged off her armored limbs. So this girl knows her spacing, Band thought as she raised her cannon for another Night Sun. But can she handle this?

“AAHHAAY!” A giant brass fist extended from Band’s body as he burst forward with a second Brass Knuckles, plowing straight through Chel’s plasma. She let out a metallic yelp as she flew a decent way, rolling halfway to the stage’s edge before she flipped to her feet. Thinking herself safe from this distance, she fired off another Night Sun, only for an oversized drum pedal to create a quake that knocked her back to the ground. “Giant Steps!” Band then thundered forward with Brass Knuckles to armor through the projectile again, canceled his momentum with Emergency Break, and slid to a stop only a couple steps away from his foe just in case she had a surprise ready for him.

If she had a reversal, though, Chel did not let it fly just yet. Instead she leaped up into the air, perhaps conscious of the corner. Her mechanical body contorted in ways that would be impossible for a human to ensure maximum airtime, and Band opted for his own anti-air, Beat Extend. Before the tambourine halves could snap shut on the incoming mech, however, Chel stopped her momentum with a downward plasma blast that splashed against Band’s head, knocking his fedora right off. “Baloney!” Unable to follow up from that distance, Chel landed a few feet away, blocked a light Brass Knuckle, and left the two right back where they started.

“Hmph. Try this!” Band jumped forward. This time, Chel did fire off a true anti-air at him, rising with a twirling uppercut. But this time the detective thought ahead by air-blocking instead of attempting a jump-in, and though Chel’s Crush Breeze pushed him back as he landed, it left her so unsafe that he could dash twice to close the distance by the time she landed. “Hot Socks!” Ever pragmatic, Band knowledge-checked her with a deceptive standing attack that used a tiny drum pedal to hit low, opening his opponent up at last.

Without further ado Band hopped up, immediately letting out a punchy note from his lowest left-side cap. “Tenor!” From there he filled with Jelly Roll, his three-hit knee tambourine, then spiked Chel with the first hit of a downward clarinet. Her groundbounce gave him enough time to land, fire off two honks from his bike horn, then popped her up again with his saxophone uppercut. “Saximum!” Following her into the air let him continue the combo with a middling Baritone Blast, the full stab and spin of Sweet Clarinet, and finally his signature five-thousand-pound dropkick. With only one bar of Dramatic Tension to his name so far, Band decided to save it and simply fall flat on his back, reasoning that the dropkick should be enough to ring Chel out.

Instead the mech bounced off the floor with a handspring and landed on her feet right at the stage’s edge, comically swinging her arms as she attempted to keep her balance. “Wha-ah-ah!” She managed to right herself, after which she pumped her fists in excited celebration. “¡Haha! ¿Cómo te quedo el ojo?” How do you like that?

Band sighed, his broken respirator whistling flatly. Always finish your plate, Ben.

He rose and threw out a Brass Knuckle to try and finish the job. Chel nimbly leaped over him, her flip kick whiffing thanks to Band’s forward movement. She backed up a step after landing, then jumped again. Not expecting her to willingly corner herself, the detective ate her jump-in, and it was the mech’s turn to combo. She hammered him with a plasma-infused one-two punch, a low punch, a Night Sun that she used Kinetic power to cancel into a forward dash, and a couple more punches followed by her three-kick Dancing Wind. After the last kick bodily launched Band upward, Chel’s used her Crush Breeze uppercut, finishing with an axe kick that bounced her foe off the ground and right back up into an airgrab. “Alley-oop!” With a cheerful farewell she fired a point-blank plasma blast that threw Band to the ground.

The detective teched backward and got to his feet, bruised and grumbling but hardly beaten. More plasma shots were headed his way. He blocked one, then saw Chel jump to fire a downward shot before shooting a grounded Night Sun upon landing. The zoning reminded him of Rasputin, and he was not happy. Next time Chel’s feet left the ground, he splurged the Tension he’d saved to deploy a giant French horn and blast forward like a missile. “Super…SONIC!”

The startup of Super Sonic Jazz annulled the Night Sun about to hit him, and the extra hit of armor after that pushed him through the next ball of plasma. He smashed into Chel as she fell and hammered her for full unscaled damage, ending with a downward flip that sent her skidding behind him. He added on a Giant Step for good measure, the tremor hitting Chel off the ground, though without more Tension Band couldn’t keep the pain train rolling with more Super Sonic Jazz.

Even so, Chel wasn’t doing so hot. Another combo would be enough to power her down, and she knew it. This time, she used her Night Suns a little more carefully, while still forcing Band to come to her. Boasting even more patience than his opponent, the detective silently blocked and walked her down, jumping over plasma shots whenever possible. Finally, she used Kinetic to cancel a shot on startup and dash toward Band, then jump straight up. More lucky than anything, Band leaped after her, snatched her out of the air between the halves of a giant bell, then clanged that bell to drop her to the floor, her head ringing.

Unlike Chel, Band could combo after an air throw, so after a quick clarinet spike to pick her up he laid on the hurt, even mixing in the Sound Stun from Beat Extend for good measure. And as it turned out, he didn’t even need to go the full distance; just over halfway through the combo, Chel’s chassis began to spark, and the mech plummeted to the ground.

BIG BAND WINS!

Band dropped after her, landing heavily, then began to back up to prepare for round two. Nearby, spectators drawn by his musical beatdown offered their claps and a few cheers, but Band didn’t feel so good. While he’d seized an early victory, his breathing was too ragged. With the sorry state of his respirator in mind, had he overexerted himself too soon? The detective fought to get his breathing under control, his brows furrowed sharply. From here on in, he’d need to pace himself if he wanted to seal the deal.

The Midnight Walk - Christmas Village

Setting: Cloudy Thursday Noon
Lvl 9 Sandalphon (68/90) Level 7 Heismay (7/70)
Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Ace Cadet’s @Yankee Roxas & Ganondorf’s @Double Ramattra and Tenna’s @XoXKieroBombXoX Mokou’s @Goggy
Word Count: 838

Nameless Stagecoach
𖥞: 6/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | ◆◆◆◆ | Equipment: Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/(None) | Companion: Ratshaker Rat

Even with all the pre-written letters out of the way, and Sandalphon’s mechanical efficiency when it came to inscription, putting the Christmas wishes of the rest of the populace took a long time. When she finally finished, such a big stack of letters addressed to ‘Santa Claus’ that she needed both hands to hold it, she emerged from the village’s central workshop to find that the morning had just become the afternoon. Of course, the dark cloud cover overhead meant she couldn’t discern the time via the sun’s position, but the presence of a big clock in the town’s square revealed what time it was. Furthermore, it seemed that the last night’s snowfall had finally stopped, leaving a fresh blanket of pure white powder over just about everything in sight.

Sandalphon paused for a moment, simply taking in the sight of warm cabins, festive lights, and joyful people. Then, careful not to drop a single letter into the snow, she deposited her load into the mailbox she, Roxas, and Layton used earlier. She wondered if the student-professor duo had actually gone through with their mission of visiting the antisocial Vanessa in her mansion in order to find out what she wanted. With such a pleasant, peaceful atmosphere around the village it was hard to imagine that anyone could come to any real danger, but appearances had been deceiving before, and locals like Maeve had regarded the reclusive with an unusual amount of dread. Still, if the makeshift team had managed to get to Iorveth, hopefully Vanessa wouldn’t be much harder.

When Sectonia also left the huge workshop a few seconds later to begin her outfit deliveries, she found one person on her list only a few feet away. Once the wasp queen got her attention, Sandalphon turned to receive a surprise present from Sectonia’s sack, her pupils shaped like question marks. Knowing no reason to wait, Sandalphon opened the box then and there, her dextrous fingers making quick work of the ribbons and wrapping paper. Inside, she found a gorgeous choir robe of cream-colored silk, richly embroidered with gold in the shape of suns and starlight, very well complimented by a splash of deep poinsettia red. It was so lovely that the archangel scarcely believed it. “For me?” she confirmed with questioning eyes, to Sectonia’s (slightly impatient) affirmation.

Better still, the costumers had provided her an alternate outfit. It was nice, but it looked like it would make her armpits very cold, and the horns did remind her somewhat of a demon’s. Sandalphon returned it to the box, set it side, and held the choir robe to her bosom. “...Thank you. Sincerely.” Sandalphon’s pupils became teardrops as a true smile played across her features.

She soon after found herself endowed with a package that seemed suitable for Layton as well. Sandalphon didn’t actually know where he was right now, but it would be easy enough to track him down once she called him. Thanking Sectonia again, she moved aside to let the big bug go on her way. As she flew off, so did the young fleas found inside the Christmas Clothier’s section of the workshop, which reminded the archangel that she’d actually forgotten to look for fleas earlier. Not like me, she thought, frowning.

Just after the fleas went out, a couple more Seekers moved in. Heismay and Mokou had approached the big cabin from the fishing pond to the east, both hauling a sled laden with fish. Sandalphon stopped and stared, quite impressed by the quantity and variety of their catch. She examined their hauls as the fishers received their own costumes from the Ace Cadet and Blazermate.

Already in a good mood, Heismay received his outfits with a smile. “What’s this?” The fur-lined red suits looked a little silly, but very warm, so after taking a deep breath the eugief made up his mind. He’d been feeling cold again anyway. “If this attire is customary for such festivities…” He put on the red coat from the first outfit over his parka, then donned the black boots from the second getup. Even the reindeer cap fit, since his big ears were already tucked beneath his hood. “I shall play my part.” Hopefully he wouldn’t regret muffling his ears with so much cloth. At the very least, now he felt warm and toasty.

“Taking these to the kitchen?” Sandalphon asked him and Mokou.

He nodded. “Indeed. Most of them should bake up nicely. This one…” He narrowed his eyes at the molten, aberrant char. “A heat source, perhaps.” He and Mokou parked the sleds, then began to transfer the fish inside, so Sandalphon gave them a hand, although her stiffness of movement indicated some sort of bothersome pain as she exerted. Once the two were all set and ready to cook, the archangel wandered back out to the to-do board, wondering what she could do next. With so much work to do, the thought of play never even crossed her mind.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Esaka - the Pools / Wine-cup Hold

Setting: Sunny Thursday Afternoon
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (193/150) Level 11 Big Band (86/110)
Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Harry and Kim’s @Eviledd1984 Terry’s @Terry Bogard Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy
Word Count: 2579 / 661

Driven by the dire prospect of disqualification through tardiness yet again, Nadia raced through the streets of the Middle Tier, heading northwest as she inwardly bemoaned how easy it was for her to get distracted and lose track of time. Robo-fortune had split off from her to pursue the most efficient route with the help of her built-in GPS, but with the help of a hovering headdrone the feral’s mechanical doppelganger kept her on the right track. “Turn there,” she deadpanned. “Through that alley. Then take a left. Cut across the temple grounds. No, your other left.”

Though Robo’s synthetic voice lacked any kind of inflection, Nadia thought that her counterpart seemed pissed. Annoyed at her for wasting time on frivolous things like friendship, probably, when they could be improving their percentage chance of success through repetitive combo trials. Admittedly, Robo did kind of have a point; Nadia knew that winging it would only get her so far. But their upcoming match was only their second qualifying round in Mortal Kombat, so how hard could it be? They’d be fine. Nadia snickered as she ran. If Robo wasn’t so stuck in her ways, maybe she would be the one calling the shots instead. As long as her counterfeit duplicate was the feral’s backup dancer, they’d be playing by her rules. And rule number one was to never take things too seriously.

After flipping over a Box Dash food delivery truck and dashing past the Corner Carry post office, where mokujin workers in pale blue button-ups were busy sorting through mail for the Heavenly Principles about the current state of tournament balance, Nadia and her chaper-drone reached the northwestern edge of the Middle Tier. Below her sparkled the crisp, chlorinated water of the Pools, where plenty of matches were still raging without any officially scheduled lunch break. , It was past time the catgirls got back into action. “Follow me,” Robo‘s headdrone instructed before rocketing downward toward a particular stage.

Sure enough, Nadia could see two strangers waiting for their opponents there already, as well as Robo-fortune’s body headed their way, a new head on her shoulders. That was one thing her copycat had over the original: she could simply manufacture and replace the modules she discarded, while Nadia needed to recover her parts. Seeing Robo’s headdrone in flight sparked the cat burglar’s imagination about new ways to make use of her Kameo in Kombat, but in order to put her ideas into practice she’d need to reach her appointed arena in time. “I can’t fly, ya know!” she protested, circulating extra blood through her system as she tensed up to spring. “Guess the purr-essure is on!”

Nadia climbed onto the railing, then hurled herself from the precipice. The wind yanked off her hood, whipped her hair, and roared in her ears, but the catgirl didn’t balk. Thanks to her (admittedly reckless) practice in Alcamoth, the Under, and elsewhere, she was getting the hang of falling in style. Midway through her descent she bolted forward with Charge, covering a lot of distance in a single streak of lightning. The moment she materialized, she let out jets of blood to keep her forward momentum, allowing her to soar through the air all the way to the stage and land with a deft roll, mere seconds before Robo-fortune arrived. So, this was where she’d be fighting: a simple dodecagonal wrestling ring with what looked like lasers instead of ropes, flanked by large marble statues. She did her best to not let the ropes remind her of Banishing Flats.

Pulling her hood on, Nadia turned, crossed her arms, and fixed her fellow feline with a huge, smug grin. “What took ya so long?” Robo just stared at her, saying nothing, but a moment later her headdrone shot down like a missile and detonated inches from Nadia’s feet. It spooked her enough that she reflexively sprang into the air, her tail ramrod-straight and bushy. “Nyargh!”

“So, this is who we’ve been waiting for?” When she heard one of the strangers speak, her suave voice colored by a strong Spanish accent, Nadia turned around with her game face on, pretending she hadn’t just been a silly scaredy-cat a moment ago. In front of her stood a tough-looking South American woman clad in light Incan bronze armor and brown leather, her blonde hair tied up in tight braids. Two long daggers, curved like snakes, hung conspicuously at the waist of the amazon queen. Behind her, quietly chewing the scenery with her arms crossed, stood a deathly pale countess with raven-black hair and dark, angular armor over a belted corset, with a long wine-red cloak at her back. If these ladies’ positions reflected their team composition, Nadia reasoned that the former must be Maya and the latter Mira. “So your team’s theme is ‘cat girl’, eh?”

Nadia scoffed, a derisive smile on her face. “We might look alike, but once we get scufflin’, you’ll find out just how different we are.”

“Hmph.” Maya glanced over her shoulder at the vampire. “Like my step-sister and I.”

The feral glanced between them, one eyebrow raised in the shadow of her hood. “...Adopted, I assume? Wait, are you a vampire?”

Mira briefly made eye-contact with Maya before brushing the comment off. “It’s a long story.” Though she spoke in a sophisticated manner, her accent was undoubtedly Russian–a world apart from her step-sister’s. She then uncrossed her arms and flexed the fingers on one hand, revealing dark steel finger claws. “And I’m afraid you don’t have much time.”

Snickering, Nadia turned sideways and lifted her own claws to assume her fighting stance. “Straight to business, huh? Let’s see if you’re up to scratch.”

Robo-fortune discharged a burst of steam, then stepped back to give her partner some room. “Error: cannot engage. Deleting first law...”

Drawing Temperance and Vengeance with a flourish, Maya stepped forward. “Watch out. You might get cut.”

ROUND ONE: FIGHT!

Neither fighter wasted a second. Both called in their Kameos, although this time Nadia started out with a different opening gambit. Rather than jump in to perform her Plutonite Beam assist, Robo knelt down to deploy a headdrone, with her chest opening up like an action figure’s to swap in a new head before she left. Mira, meanwhile, whipped around as she conjured streams of what looked like liquid mercury. Only after a brief moment did Nadia realize that it was Mira’s metallic blood. “Hey! Blood’s kinda my thing!”

The blood took the form of three bats that flapped forward, slowly homing in on her position. Hey, I know this trick! With her new drone headed her way, Nadia took off running on all fours to close the distance. Maya, covered by her sister’s Blood Seekers, did the same. At the last moment Nadia sprang up to leap over the projectiles, but this approach was a little too predictable. Maya sprang straight up to pluck her foe out of the sky with an air throw, extending both legs to kick her back down. By the time Nadia rolled to her feet, the Blood Seekers were on there. She had no choice but to stand there and block as the bats hit her guard and erupted into silver blood one by one. “Ugh! All this blocking will make me B-negative!”

Once the last one popped she was more than ready to start attacking again, but Maya had ample time to add in a projectile of her own. “Ack!” Nadia reeled back as the thrown dagger sliced into her, then bounced off. It plunged into the ground blade-first as Maya dashed forward, and with a limber cartwheel the amazon snatched it back up on the way. Immediately she let fly one, then both daggers, catching them as they rebounded like some maniacal juggler. After performing a short dagger-throwing combo at close range, Maya flipped forward with a cartwheel kick, stabbed with both daggers, ripped them out, and finished with an upside-down leap kick that sent her flying upward, surrounded by songbirds of light.

Nadia hit the ground and sprang to her feet, a little cut up but still ready to brawl. “Ready ‘fur’ more!” She pulled off her head and hurled it like a bowling ball. Maya smartly jumped forward over the head, hurling Temperance down. With no time to dodge, Nadia blocked it. As it ricocheted, she briefly saw it glow yellow, but thought nothing of it. Maya landed and closed the distance with a cartwheel kick that the feral managed to sidestep, but as she launched a spinning tail slap, Maya went low and grabbed her fallen dagger to use it as the anchor for a whirling leg sweep.

With a grunt Nadia hit the floor, gathering herself just in time to see Maya perform a familiar somersault. “That’s my move!” She ducked backward just enough to dodge Maya’s overhead axe kick, then struck back with her Cat Scratch rekka. “One, two!” After a couple slashes, she finished with her own axe kick El Gato and sent Maya sliding on her back. “Wreck-a yo face!”

Unfazed by Nadia’s neck stump, the amazon regained her feet quickly, her daggers in hand. “You talk too much.” She got a taste of her own medicine the next second, though, as her criticism allowed Nadia’s head to chomp down on her ankles. “Agh!”

The feral’s body took the chance to dramatically point her finger, signalling Robo’s headdrone to take action. “Beep beep blarp!” It opened up to spit out a salvo of hidden missiles, each shaped like a mouse or fish cat toy, that flew up and then came down on Maya. Unfortunately they took just long enough, and numbered few enough, that Nadia’s body couldn’t run in and capitalize in time. Instead of a combo, she had to settle for a throw. “I’m havin’ a ball!” She snatched Maya in a giant yarn ball of extruded muscle fiber to toy with before tossing her closer to the ring’s edge.

Nadia sprinted forward, then performed a short-hop to execute a double claw swipe just as Maya recovered, but the amazon was one step ahead “Mira!” As she woke up, Maya called out her Kameo, then launched her songbird Leap Kick to stuff the feral’s jump-in with an anti-air. When Mira arrived, she formed her blood into a great silvery scythe, then lashed out with a heavy slash that recaptured Nadia as she fell. Yowling, the catgirl was helpless as Maya followed up with a razor-sharp combo of dagger slashes and wild kicks. As the combo reached its end, shadowy purple power gathered around Maya, and she finished with a series of three backflip kicks that carried both her and her opponent backward. As each blow connected, Nadia realized with gritted teeth that this must be her foe’s equivalent of a Blockbuster. Yet the Shadow Tumble Kicks did not finish the combo. That honor went to a powerful Leap Kick Ender, which launched Nadia skyward surrounded by a flock of radiant songbirds.

As she sailed away Nadia managed to right herself and land on her feet, but with her body scuffed, bruised, and sliced, things weren’t looking good. Her opponent had landed two solid combos, while she’d barely put together a string. Was Maya just that good at reading her, or was there something the catgirl hadn’t gotten yet? Unfortunately, she wouldn’t have time to figure it out. Maya went for her detached head, forcing Nadia to call in Robo’s Plutonite Beam for some cover as she retrieved her head with Cat Call. No sooner was it on than Maya was inbound, first rolling and then hurling herself forward with a long short hop.

Thinking quickly, Nadia performed Cat Slide to low-profile the high-speed jump-in, then rolled backward to launch Fiber Upper. Her double kick went over Maya’s head, but snapping up to her legs took Maya by surprise. Unable to execute her anti-air in time, she had to block Nadia’s falling clash slash, which left the feral at a slight advantage. Unfortunately, it also left her cornered against the ring’s laser ropes. When she lashed out with her claws, a guaranteed frame trap, Maya wisely did a backward handspring. She then spent the last of her Shadow energy on a Shadow Spirit Slicer by locking her daggers’ hilts together, then flinging them as a single saw-like projectile.

“Hah!” Nadia guarded against what she’d assumed to be a failed punish attempt, only to see Maya shaking her head condescendingly. When the Spirit Slicer concluded, both Vengeance and Temperance bounced away, loaded with purple and yellow energy, respectively. Nadia bared her fangs as she rushed forward, determined to keep Maya away from her daggers. “Whatever you’re up to, don’t count meowt!” She chipped away at her foe’s block with a series of furious claw slashes and kicks, alternating high and low. After a stronger hit that pushed Maya back, she jumped forward as if to overhead, only to double jump backward. Maya’s upward claw slash whiffed, and the next second Nadia spiked her head downward, then jetted downward with Feral Edge to follow up the projectile. “I’m a s-tabby cat!” She dove beneath her opponent, then launched her with an upward slice.

A moment later the two squared up again, a smile on Nadia’s face as she pressurized blood in her legs. While she hadn’t landed a combo, her Blockbuster had dealt appreciable damage. She could bring this back! “Tin Cans!” As she boosted into the air she summoned her Kameo for a beam assist, only for Robo to take one of Maya’s daggers to the face and stumble backward. That was a bummer, but now that Maya had thrown away the one dagger near her, she was unarmed!

Nadia threw herself forward with an airdash, then landed with a roll and pounced forward so Maya couldn’t try that Leap Kick of hers. Instead, the amazon shone with golden energy. “On the hunt!” In an instant, her daggers appeared in her hands.

The catgirl’s eyes went wide just before one of them struck her right between the eyes. “Gah!” The next thing she knew, she was getting combo’d again. Maya kept this one short and sweet, but rather than end with a Leap Kick, she hurled her empowered daggers forward. Nadia blinked, confused as she recovered from her backward stumble. Had Maya just let her go? Then she looked up and saw those daggers floating above her like yellow and purple sawblades, just before they began to fly into her on their own accord. In a panic she tried to duck and dodge, but once Maya added her own kicks to the mix with those spinning blades, it was over. Nadia slumped to the floor a moment later, her strength leeched out by the dozens of cuts all over her.

MAYA AND MIRA WIN!

---

Seated as best he could at an open spot by one of the wrought-iron tables, Band did not interrogate the Seekers’ new associates, but waited and listened as his comrades asked the United Nations representatives questions one by one. The answers Chevalier (and to an extent Anji as well) offered, cool as a cucumber, helped fill in the blanks about the proposed plans and G-Corp’s capabilities. The most pertinent details concerned the task assigned to the hypothetical Team A, which would be targeting G-Corp’s reinforcements. As capable as the Seekers were, an APC full of killer robots and possibly protected by burly Gigas units would be no joke, so hopefully there would be a lot more people on the case than the Koopa Kids and the Octopath Travelers. Band also noted Chevalier’s mention of the location of G-Corp’s manufacturing facility, it being in the Tangled Shore. That name didn’t ring a bell, so it could easily be too far away for the Seekers to realistically attend to it, but in a big case any random scrap of information could turn out to be important.

It wasn’t long before the inquiries concluded and the luncheon could begin. Although primarily a winery, Wine-Cup Hold naturally served a selection of appetizers (or hors d'oeuvres as Chevalier might call them) designed to accompany certain vintages for maximum tasting experience. With the day just over half finished, and multiple fights ahead of him, Band didn’t want to risk getting tipsy. His body looked big, but his true self housed inside the metal shell was much smaller, and it had the blood that alcohol would affect. In short, he was a two-and-a-half ton lightweight, so water would work just fine to wash down the salty flatbreads and spicy wings.

Band wasn’t planning to obsess over the fine details of a mission he couldn’t partake in, but as the food arrived, one thing did occur to him. “Mr. Chevalier,” he began. “For the folks plannin’ to roll out with Team A, I figure you got a map of the area we could use, preferably with roadways marked? Would make interceptin’ the shipment a whole lot easier.”

Before Chevalier could answer, Anji raised a fan. “Oh yes, a map. Hold tight, I’ll run and get you one.”

“And just one more thing,” Band added. “You got agents of your own on these missions too, right? How many we lookin’ at?”

The gentleman nodded. “Darli, Dolores, and Anji were the original Team A, and will now fight alongside your own contributions. For B and C, we have Ms. Hildegard von Krone and Darun Mister lined up, respectively. Three should be sufficient for those teams.”

With business taken care of, the Seekers who’d attended the meeting dined casually. Since Amaterasu and Terry had the rest of the day off, with no more pools matches to fight for now, they could round up Captain Falcon and decide who to send where. Depending on Yayama’s schedule, she might be available to depart on a mission herself. Band expected that Therion would relay Chevalier’s briefing to Primrose so the two could allocate their strength appropriately. In addition to Band’s fellow detective Zenkichi, neither Harry nor Kim were here, and perhaps busy with the tournament; the cyborg was not aware of the latter’s elimination.

Unfortunately, Band could not relax among the rose bushes and hawthorn trees for long. When his internal clock hit one-thirty, Band picked his bell-shaped body up off the ground. “Scuse me. Got places to go and people to fight. Stay frosty, y’all.” With a tip of his hat, the detective turned to go, headed back toward the lift that would return him to the Pools tier. On the way he briefly visited a bulletin board, where he found the name of his next opponent: Chel. After fighting a tiger in the last round, Band couldn’t help but be curious who the World Warrior tournament had in store for him this time.

The Midnight Walk - Baxter Mining Outpost

Setting: Snowy Thursday Late Morning
Lvl 9 Sandalphon (66/90) Level 7 Heismay (5/70)
Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Ace Cadet’s @Yankee Roxas & Ganondorf’s @Double Ramattra and Tenna’s @XoXKieroBombXoX Mokou’s @Goggy
Word Count: 2743

Nameless Stagecoach
𖥞: 6/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | ◆◆◆◆ | Equipment: Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/(None) | Companion: Ratshaker Rat

Heismay kept quiet as the stagecoach slowly and jerkily rattled over the frozen minecart tracks of the abandoned facility, though even if he did dare to speak, the biting wind would have swallowed his words. Even if the constant flurries hindered visibility, he did his best to shield his face against the snow and stay alert for any sign of malicious intent among the sinister shadows. Reinvigorated by the skewer and berries provided by Tenna, he surveyed the outpost around him. He watched as Edward, occupied as always by the task of driving the expeditionary vehicle, opted to send his expendable minions marching into the decrepit buildings and yawning tunnels in lieu of any Seekers, however strong and brave such volunteers might be. Of course, some Seekers like Tenna went anyway, motivated by boredom or the prospect of loot. If they or the golems actually recovered leftover ores or left-behind mining equipment from the outpost, that was well and good, but Heismay suspected their incursion’s primary purpose was to provoke and distract any resident enemies so the stagecoach itself could sneak through unopposed.

This was a strategy that Heismay tacitly approved of, of course. There were simply too many hiding spots that attackers could launch ambushes from around here, a situation that the Highlands’ dark and windy conditions only worsened. The sooner everyone was out of this treacherous place, the better.

Each second seemed like a minute as the stagecoach progressed, unable to move too fast over such rough terrain without risking further damage to the wheels. With only six left, the vehicle couldn’t take much more. Heismay fidgeted as the telltale sounds of melee combat -along with more unidentifiable, dreadful vocalizations- echoed up from facility’s frigid recesses. Nothing jumped out at the stagecoach, though, so perhaps the tactician’s cohort was doing its job. Within a few minutes, the Seekers were approaching the far side of the desolate outpost. Up ahead, the exit took the form of a broad archway formed by two of the buildings and a covered bridge between them. A couple chutes indicated that this was where ground-up minerals would be dumped from their hoppers and deposited into freight wagons for overland transport. Unfortunately, the large metal gates were shut tight with a chain and padlock. The padlock was on the other side of the gate, perhaps a sign that it had been sealed from outside to lock certain things in, but a sufficiently slender human hand could reach through the gap between the gates to access the lock from this side.

This meant that Edward could also just pull out his Magelock pistol and then obliterate it with a well-placed shot so that the chain slumped into the snow with a splash of powder. From there, the Shieldrix could push the gate open.

As the stagecoach proceeded and Heismay got his first look at the land beyond the outpost, he heard a soft sound behind him, like a bundle of laundry flopping to the ground. It could just as easily be snow that slid off a roof, disturbed by the repercussions of the pistol’s report, but Heismay left nothing to chance. When he whipped around, he found a red, fur-lined overcoat in a heap on the stagecoach’s roof, smudged by coal dust from the chute it fell through. Then eyes peeked out from the hood, and bloodless blue fingers crept out into the light of the vehicle’s lantern. As Manteau rose to its full height, Heismay’s red eyes narrowed above a grim frown, and he drew his longsaber with a steely rasp.

Vacantly smiling, the creature lifted its long sleeves like a marionette on puppet strings, its frozen flesh cracking audibly. Then it expelled a blast of frozen breath, gathered into a solid mass. Heismay narrowly side-stepped it, his sword held defensively to help deflect the cold vapor. Just grazing it coated the blade in ice, and when its slightly upward trajectory took it into the underside of the covered bridge, it flash-froze a cluster of icicles. Focused and calm, Heismay stepped behind it as the stagecoach’s movement took the icicles toward Manteau, which ducked around it also.

Then the monster inhaled, and Heismay readied himself. This time its breath came out as a spray, and by thrashing around the exhalation covered the whole roof laterally. Yet the stream missed as Heismay hopped backward, almost to the front edge, where he steadied himself to not fall backward onto Edward. Now the stagecoach was out in the open, meaning the eugief had enough room to jump and transform. He held his longsaber with both hands, his eyes narrowed as he stared Manteau down. It stared back, its many fingers clutching tight to the fur lining of its coat as the wind blew harder. When it exhaled again, it turned its face upward, spewing diamond dust into the air. Heismay looked to the cloudy sky, anticipating some sort of hail attack, but nothing came. When he glanced back down, Manteau was gawking at him again. With eyes frozen open, it couldn’t blink. Though its gleaming teeth moved slightly, it couldn’t speak. It could only shuffle, reach, and breath, so it did.

In frustration it belted out another blast of Stunning Cold, faster than before. Heismay didn’t even need to move, however, as the frosty mass sailed off into the darkness. Its blank gaze returned as it reached out with its limp sleeves, much too far to make contact. Was it even actually trying to attack him? The hermit did not feel very threatened. If anything, he felt pity. What was this malformed, frostbitten thing? Slowly, Heismay lowered his blade. Manteau lowered its arms, which crackled, as it exhaled again. The very end of its frigid breath brushing against Heismay’s parka. Ice crystals formed on its surface, but that was all. With how frequently this thing breathed out, he couldn’t get any closer without being frozen. Yet, he couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. At the end of the day, Manteau was a threat. And…maybe putting this thing out of its misery would be best for it too. Heismay breathed deep of the terribly cold air, and searched for inner strength.

New Power

Gunner - an Archetype borne of the heroic adepts who found glory and inspiration in the impersonal and skillful lethality of firearms. It cannot attack at close range and has poor defenses, but it can inflict high Pierce damage and status effects from long range. Comes with the skills Sleep Shot and Poison shot, which inflict Pierce damage and have a chance to inflict their respective statuses

Without a word, the eugief transformed into a new Archetype. With many glass eyes beneath his cap, the Gunner did not stand as tall as the Thief or Assassin, but on his shoulder he hoisted a cannon as big as he was. As Manteau spewed icy breath, the force of it causing its body to sway from side to side, Heismay took aim. His cannon resounded once, sharp and clear, as a Sleep Shot slammed into the thing within the cloak. It stumbled backward, its frozen eyes glazing over. After a moment, it let out a final puff of breath and fell limply from the back of the stagecoach into the snow.

A couple seconds later, the rear door opened. Sandalphon poked her head out, then looked up to see Heismay standing on the rear edge of the roof, sliding his blade into its scabbard. “I heard a shot. What happened?”

The eugief shook his head. “...Nothing to worry about. It’s gone.”

---

Beyond Baxter Mining Outpost, the Midnight Walk led through a mountain pass, low but long. It was dark, windy, and cold, but with plenty of open space the sensation of imminent danger that persisted throughout the abandoned facility was gone. The trail wove this way and that through the small, rocky peaks, and after a half hour or so it finally straightened, then opened up to reveal snowy hills dotted with pine trees. In the distance Moon Mountain loomed, bigger and closer than ever, but only its upper third could be seen above a dark, cloudy wall. Between here and there, however, the Seekers could see what looked like a little hamlet, surrounded by strings of colored lights. Smoke spiraled upward from chimneys, while warm lanterns illuminated great poles of diagonally striped red and white. There were people, plenty of them, and the place seemed lively–as if preparing for some sort of festival.

The Tale of Kris Kringle

As the team neared the settlement, the stagecoach slowed down and the Seekers disembarked to proceed on foot, Sandalphon among them. They were naturally cautious as they approached, but contrary to expectation, this village seemed to have no defenses of any kind. Although Sandalphon would not allow herself to fully relax, she slowly let down her guard little by little as she and the others scoped out the place. Evidently the unannounced arrival of a number of newcomers was not an uncommon event around here, as it seemed to be something of a crossroads for the Frozen Highlands. Its main structure was a large timber lodge, but rather than a dwelling this building looked like a single massive workshop, full of sawing, hammering, stitching, and tinkering. Near it stood a market board, where a large variety of items could seemingly be ordered with a cheaper eight-hour delivery time or an expedited two-hour time that cost more. To the east lay a pond, mostly frozen over, with a hole carved for fishing and a big, blazing-hot oven nearby. Trails led away from the main village toward nearby locations like an evergreen forest, a misty valley where giant snowmen stood watch over arrays of floating snowflakes, a strange hovel amidst bowing pines, and a secluded mansion at the foot of a little mountain.

A mixture of igloos and guest houses, vibrantly decorated with lights and wreaths, formed most of the buildings in the village. Most were occupied by travelers here (and suitably dressed) for the festival. Sandalphon identified a classy toymaker, a companionable organizer, and a rather lightly-dressed courier among there number. There was also a whole caravan of fuzzy fleas, themselves newly arrived in chitin contraptions pulled by giant bugs. The adults stood only a few feet tall, while the especially fluffy youngsters were the size of soccer balls, and so excited as they flew and bounced around that the adults couldn’t keep track of them. Even the squirrels seemed to be dressed for the occasion.

Most of the population, however, seemed to be elves. Though they had long ears and wore a mixture of greens and reds, they came in all shapes and sizes, not to mention temperaments. One elf in particular stared daggers at the newly-arrived humans, as if he’d prefer to murder them where they stood rather than admit them to the festival, but most of the elves seemed friendly. When Sandalphon brought the Seekers closer to the town center, a long-eared pixie flitted over, waving. “Hello, and welcome to Christmas Village! My name is Maeve!” she sang in a bright, cheery voice.

“Christmas…?” Sandalphon repeated, looking around. This place reminded her of Snowdin.

The pixie looked stunned. “You’ve never heard of Christmas? It’s a holiday, the most special holiday of all. Friends and families get together, decorate homes and Christmas trees, share delicious feasts, and give one another gifts wrapped in colorful paper and bows. And wouldn’t you know it, the main celebration is this very night!” Maeve then laughed nervously, tugging at her color. “Uh…that said, there’s still a LOT to do, heheh…we’re majorly short-staffed, and could use a lot of help…”

Sandalphon was looking past her, to the north. “I apologize for interrupting. But what…is that?”

A few minutes’ walk north of the workshop, at the end of the Midnight Walk, the land suddenly gave way to a sheer drop. Were anyone to venture to the edge, there would be no bottom in sight, only an abyssal darkness. More worrisome, though, was the snowstorm. A few feet from the edge was what looked like a white wall of snow, dense but in constant tumultuous motion, shifting like the surface of a gas giant in the throes of gale-force winds. A stone bridge protruded from this barrier, anchored to the near side of the chasm, and the matchstick-lined Midnight Walk led straight to it. Try as she might, Sandalphon could not see anything more. That bridge could lead to the other side of the gorge, or stop a few feet into the snowstorm, and she would never know until she stumbled in.

“Oh, the blizzard?” Maeve asked after a moment. “Um…yeah. It’s really thick, and really violent. Nobody can get through. Just a few seconds’ exposure is enough to freeze people solid. So everyone trying to follow the Midnight Walk is just…stuck.” The pixie quickly brightened up. “That’s kind of why we’re here, though! We’re hoping to calm the raging storm by demonstrating the peace and warmth of humanity with the biggest, most wonderful Christmas celebration of all time!”

Sandalphon’s pupils became triple question marks before dwindling to just one each. “Will…that work?”

“If the boss thinks it’s worth a try, it’s worth a try!” Maeve said a little too enthusiastically, pumping her arm for good measure. “Anyway, since you’re here, maybe you’d like to lend a hand with the preparations? Like I said before, we’ve got so much to do…like, SO much…”

Just then, Fleamaster Mooshka came running over at top speed, his little mustache wiggling frantically. “Oh, miss Maeve! Miss Maeve!” He slowed down as he drew near, Sandalphon stepping back to give the little flea some room. He breathed deeply, sending out little puffs of mist that made Heismay shiver with remembrance, before regaining his usual composure. “Miss Maeve, I have urgent news. Since we arrived, our young fleas have been so overcome with excitement for the festival…they simply cannot control themselves! We tried to calm them down, but to no avail. They’ve scattered themselves all over the area in one giant game of hide-and-go-seek.”

The Fleamaster tugged at his mustache distractedly. “I wanted to ask, if I may, that everyone here keep an eye out for the young fleas while going about their business, if possible. And if they should find them, send them home! We would happily offer our prized Flea Brew to anyone who might find one…and once we’re reunited, we can join the festival properly.”

Maeve tugged at her ears, her teeth chattering. “Oh…okay…that’s, uh…that’s great. Yeah. We’ll…help you find them, Fleamaster. No problem!” She gave her most convincing smile, then glanced at the Seekers as if begging for help. “So…if you do help, not saying you have to, just, uh…if you do, keep that in mind? Maybe? I dunno, haha…”

Sandalphon’s pupils briefly became stress marks. “We do need to continue along the Midnight Walk to Moon Mountain as soon as possible, but while working to penetrate the blizzard, I’m sure we could help somehow.”

Groaning, Maeve sent a plaintive look toward the heavens. “Ohthankgod…I mean, yaaay! You guys are the best! Love that! Just…y’know, holler if you need anything! And…” She glanced over at the surly elf, then floated closer and held a hand up to her mouth conspiratorially. “Don’t talk to Iorveth. Unless you’re an elf. He’s a little…um, yeah.”

Next to the workshop stood a large board labeled ‘To-Do List!!!’ in what was probably Maeve’s handwriting, with a couple post-it notes attached that read Most tasks will take a couple hours! You’ll get CHRISTMAS SPIRIT for everything you do! Thank you!!!

To-Do List

• Collect Letters for Santa (INCLUDING IORVETH AND VANESSA)
• Make lots of toys
• Wrap gifts and put gifts beneath tree
• Make and put up more Christmas decorations
• Make cute Christmas outfits! (yippee!)
• Chop fir trees for lumber and firewood
• Feed the reindeer and get the sleigh rides running
• Catch snow imps (I hate these guys)
• Catch fist for feast
• Stock the kitchen
• Cook lots of food for feast
• Brew hot chocolate and eggnog (yum!)
• Have snowball fights (NONLETHAL THIS YEAR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)
• Solve the damn jumping puzzle
• Find all thirty lost fleas
• Have Christmas party and melt the blizzard with our Christmas spirit!

PS: if you see The Dark Itself, do NOT interact with it, just ignore it and it will go away!

Reading line by line, Heismay stopped when he reached a certain task. “Catch fish?” He brightened up. “Yesterday I did try my hand for a few minutes, but it’s been a long time since I really fished. I could think of much worse ways to pass the time.” From his little bag he produced a tacklebox, which he held up to demonstrate his preparedness. Despite his composed demeanor, Heismay did seem rather eager to partake in his hobby.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Esaka - the Pools

Setting: Sunny Thursday Noon
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (190/150) Level 11 Big Band (85/110)
Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Harry and Kim’s @Eviledd1984 Terry’s @Terry Bogard Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy
Word Count: 1888 / 1220

It took a little while for Nadia to retrace her steps to the World Warrior portion of the Pools, especially with Shina and Beowulf tagging along. From what little she’d seen so far of the tournaments’ qualifying rounds, the majority of opponents tended not to speak much to one another either before or after the fight, often offering one another little more than a curt ‘good fight’ once the duel concluded one way or another. People who traded banter beforehand or discussed the match afterward were in the minority. And even though Nadia herself was on the more talkative side, she thought it made sense. With a lot on the line, especially in Mortal Kombat, tensions ran high and tempers could flare easily. If good sportsmanship predominated, it was less out of the kindness of fighters’ hearts and more out of fear of the Heavenly Principles, always watching and waiting for any injunction.

Beowulf and Shina, however, were exceptions to that rule. Even after their clash ended with a ring-out every single round (and such cheap wins often sparked anger) they laughed off their bruises, complimented one anothers’ techniques, and poked fun at each others’ patterns. With such outgoing, larger-than-life personalities, the wrestler and the mercenary were two peas in a pod. With people like that around, the extroverted Ms Fortune couldn’t help but laugh and joke along. By the time they finally reached the World Warriors matches, it was almost lunch time.

With three sets of eyes, at least, it took less time to find the other NMO members again. It was Beowulf that spotted Annie’s distinctive mint-green hair through the crowd, and when he led the way over across an arched stone bridge, the two found her and Filia together at a gazebo-like rest area. Even Robo-fortune happened to be there, standing off to the side with her arms crossed as she scoped out the competition. “Hey!” Nadia waved enthusiastically as she trotted over, getting the girls’ attention. “Wanna get lunch?”

“That sounds great!” Filia perked up right away and practically leaped to her feet, her ruby-red eyes sparkling. “I’m famished!”

The parasite in the back of her agreed in his typical gruff manner. “You can say that again.”

Nadia wondered if Filia and Samson shared the same stomach. They had to, right? But did that mean Filia had a second throat through the back of her head…? Well, whatever. It wasn’t like her whole deal made any more sense. Parasites were probably just magic, too.

Annie, meanwhile, had taken a second to consult the gazebo’s bulletin board, which fortunately nobody else was using at the moment. “Yeah, looks like we’ve got time.’ She picked up her stuffed rabbit, Sagan, by one ear and slung him over her shoulder like a backpack. The eye inside his mouth, which looked just like Annie’s sole remaining eye, visibly shifted to stare at Nadia. The feral gave him the I’m-watching-you gesture, and Annie glanced over her shoulder to see what Nadia was pointing at. “Not that much time, though. Let’s get a move on.”

“Where to?” Filia asked, eager to get going.

Beowulf shrugged. “Fortune and I figured we’d head up to the Middle Tier and wing it.”

“Shocker,” Annie mumbled.

The five set off, headed for the southwestern elevator. Robo followed along behind them, clearly interested in neither speaking nor eating with the others. As they walked, the first subject on everyone’s mind was how everyone was doing in their brackets so far. “So,” Filia started, pulling up beside Beowulf and Shina. “How’s Tekken going for you so far, Beo?”

“So far, so good!” The wrestler reported with a grin and a thumbs-up. “Three-one against this goober named ‘Terrific Forelock’ in round one, and three-two against Shina here in round two! Slaaaaam dunk!”

The mercenary shrugged, chuckling. “Oh, please. It was down to the wire. Could’ve gone the other way just as easily. If I get the runback in Losers, you’d better get that ass ready for a whooping!”

That hardly seemed to intimidate Beowulf–in fact, he seemed more excited than anything. “Haha, we can run it back any time you want lady, day or night!”

“Hah. Don’t tempt me,” Shina replied.

Walking alongside Annie, Nadia raised an eyebrow at her. Are they flirting? she mouthed.

Annie just pursed her lips, wincing. “Uh, moving on…I did win my second match, too. My opponent was a boxer named Wei. He was no slouch, I’ll give him that. Actually had to get a little serious.” She shrugged. “Definitely not a low seed. Bet he’ll tear things up in Losers.”

“Oh, I won my first Losers match!” Filia reported happily. “They put me up against this huge, buff old giant named Raizo. He looked scary, but he turned out to be pretty nice.” She crossed her arms, unable to hide her smug smile. “And pretty slow!”

Samson snickered. “We ran circles around him. Couldn’t deal with our air game.”

Laughing, Beowulf reached his brawny, hairy arms out to clap a hand on both Nadia and Annie’s shoulders. “Hah! Sounds like NMO is killin’ it so far! We might be on the up and up!”

With a huff, Annie brushed his hand off. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, has-been. We’ve all got a long road ahead of us.”

The road to the Middle Tier, at least, was relatively short. Once they reached the elevator they waited around for it to arrive, long enough for Robo-fortune to catch up, and a minute later they boarded the lift together. In no time at all they reached the middle tier, but without enough time to sit down at a real restaurant, the five decided to follow a time-honored tournament tradition and grab some street food instead. They found a plaza where a number of food trucks had congregated around a couple dozen round tables, each endowed with a colorful table cloth and umbrella. Right now, with it being lunchtime at all, the place was full of other fighters who’d had the same idea, but the five found an open table and planted Robo-fortune there to claim it. They then settled on Burrito OS, a Mexican food truck offering burritos, tacos, chimichangas, and so on, and returned to their table laden with food after a few minutes in line. The food and vibes were both great, especially since Nadia offered to pay for everyone out of her ill-gotten gains.

After crunching through her chimichanga, Nadia licked her fingers. “Purr-etty good. Coulda been way spicier, though.”

Beowulf looked at her like she was crazy. “You serious? I thought it was kind of spicy already…”

“‘Fur’ real?” Nadia snickered at him. _”Pussy.”

The wrestler gave her a heartbroken look, which he promptly turned on Shina once the mercenary started chuckling too. “Aw, c’mon. No wonder you ladies like it hot, your hearts are ice-cold!”

“Oh, Shina!” Nadia got her fellow blonde’s attention. “I can turn into a tiger too, you know! Well, a little.”

Shina crossed her arms. “Hey, I’m a leopard, not a tiger. What d’you mean by ‘a little’? Like, a little tiger? Sounds cute.”

“Nono, I mean a paw-tial transformation,” Nadia explained as she raised one arm to flex. “Check meowt~” Using the Fluffy Soft power gained from her Super Anthromorph fusion, Nadia morphed her arm into that of a white tiger, with pale fur, black stripes, and huge curved claws.

“Cool!” Filia cooed through a mouthful of burrito. As she chewed and swallowed, she tossed the rest of the burrito into the air. Samson lashed out a lock of raven-black hair like a tentacle, caught it, and stuffed it in his fanged maw. Then Filia began to unwrap her third burrito. “By the way, Ms Fortune, Samson asked you a question earlier, but it was too grumbly for you to hear.” Her parasite paused mid-chew. “He asked, what’s with all the puns?” Filia did her best impression of her partner’s deep, growly voice, then bit into her burrito.

Samson swallowed. “That was rhetorical,” he grumbled under his breath.

The feral batted her eyelashes at him, pouting. “Aw, you don’t like ‘em? You’re gonna hurt my felines…”

“Bah, that’s a stretch,” Shina criticized jovially before turning her attention to Filia. “You can sure pack it away, huh kid?”

Filia’s eyes went wide as she froze, her face reddening, then swallowed. “W-well, I’m a growing girl, hehe.” She pointed at the back of her head. “Samson says I have to eat a lot if I want to build muscle!”

“Oh? But this doesn’t look like muscle to me!” With a grin Shina poked Filia, who squeaked. “If you want abs like mine, you’ve got to work out every day! Sit-ups, crunches, lateral raises!”

Fila groaned and reached for her fourth burrito. “But working out is haaaard…”

“It can be fun, though!” Beowulf insisted, looking at Shina. “Right? I bet with Shina’s help, I could finally make a regimen you’ll actually wanna do, Filia!”

“Yeah!” Shina pumped her fist.

Filia blanched. “Oh gosh, now there are two of you meatheads after me?” She hid behind Annie for protection. “Save me, Annie!”

“Save yourself,” the Girl of the Stars muttered as Samson took advantage of the distraction to delicately prize the last burrito from his host’s grasp.

The group continued to bicker and joke until the conversation turned back toward the tournament. This time, Nadia actually did consult the bulletin board beforehand. “Next up, me and Robo are fightin’ two gals named Maya and Mira.”

“From the Killer Instinct dojo,” Annie informed her. “Sisters. They’re no pushovers, actually. You two better bring your A-game.”

Nadia laughed halfheartedly. “Right, haha. Maybe we oughta…well, practice or somethin’...”

“What about me?” Beowulf asked. “I’m up against Mitsurugi.”

The Girl of the Stars nodded sagaciously. “A samurai who wields the Shishi-oh. From the Soul Calibur dojo. Their top fighters used to be stars on par with King of Fighters or Tekken, but nowadays they’ve fallen off, leaving them firmly in the Middle Tier. Still, Mitsurugi is a mainstay of the dojo, and not a foe to take lightly.”

Nodding, Beowulf looked impressed. “A samurai,” he repeated, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. “Wow, you really do know everything. How old are you, really?”

“That’s none of your fffffffudging business,” Annie replied matter-of-factly, failing to utter her desired swear word.

A moment later Shina got to her feet, stretching her strong arms. “Well, that was a good meal. Thanks for having me along. Gotta bounce, though. Ten minutes ‘til my next match.”

Realizing what time it was, Nadia jumped up. “Holy crap, I better get goin’. The Mortal Kombat pools are farther away. Better cut across the Middle Tier to make it in time.”

“Good luck!” Filia told her. Beowulf, who had been crunching through a honeyed sopapilla as he stood to go after Shina, just waved.

As Shina jogged away, the feral took off, sprinting the opposite direction. Robo-fortune fell in behind her as they headed north, her metal frame clanking with each hurried step. Sisters from the Killer Instinct dojo, eh? It sounded like Nadia would have a real fight on her hands. Hopefully she wouldn’t be late.

---

True to Anji’s description, the Wine-cup Hold did resemble a castle, a picturesque, almost fairytale specimen of Renaissance French architecture, with spotless white plaster along its stone brick walls and rounded towers covered with exuberant ornamentation, their roofs full of lucarne windows. Of course, as a winery and not a fortified palace, many of the Wine-cup Hold’s features were purely decorative, and so much smaller than their real-life counterparts that they couldn’t practically be used. Still, the functional portcullis that permitted entry into the winery’s lavish walled yard was rather charming, and the wrought iron tables and chairs in that outdoor seating area were as elegant as the flourishing rose bushes.

By the time they reached the castle’s gates, there were so many Seekers along for the ride that Band couldn’t help but feel like the vanguard of an invading army. The one omission that surprised him was Zenkichi, who he would have definitely expected to be here. Yayama had beaten the rest of her new allies here, but aside from here there weren’t many people present in the sunny, aromatic courtyard. A bespectacled dancer in stylish Japanese attire stood in the shade of a young hawthorn tree with gray bark and red berries, keeping his muscular chest cool with the help of a large, patterned fan. This was Anji Mito, whose name Yayama had offered her compatriots along with that of their destination in a follow-up call. In a corner stood two black women who stopped chatting to watch the Seekers as they arrived. One, with thick white braids, geometric tattoos, and black clothes, wore gold jewelry and glasses that gave her the look of a fashionista. The other, who sported thin purple dreads, favored white cloth with red and green accents, blue beads, and leather belts. She also leaned on a giant sawtoothed cleaver, as easily as someone might lean on a cane.

Finally, there was an old gentleman with white hair, goatee, and sunglasses, wearing an exceptionally fine off-white suit that featured a purple tie. He was the only one seated at a table, with one leg crossed over the other and a wine glass a quarter full of deep red merlot in arm’s reach. Also on the table lay what looked like a high-tech scabbard with glowing purple lights built into the case, the black handle of a discreetly curved swordblade protruding from one end.

“Ah, there you are,” Anji addressed the Seekers with a smile before gesturing to the empty tables. “Welcome to Wine-cup Hold. Please, seat yourselves and relax. We’ve rented the place out for the hour, so nobody will disturb us. The staff will be out shortly to take your orders.” He extended an arm toward the seated man. “It is my pleasure to introduce to you the provisional head of the United Nations, Mr. Victor Chevalier.”

Chevalier nodded his head. “The pleasure is mine,” he began, speaking in perfect French. Somehow, everyone understood him anyway, and not just Yayama whose Echo nullified all language barriers. “Allow me to be brief and get business out of the way up front, so that we may enjoy our meal and afternoon. I am indeed the leader of the United Nations, although we are hardly a coalition of nations with entire populations and economies at our backs. In Esaka, we are merely a group of like-minded fighters from the many different countries of Earth.”

“I, naturally, represent France.” Chevalier glanced toward Anji, who bowed. “This is Mr. Anji Mito, representative of Japan. And over in the corner there, those beautiful ladies are Dolores and Darli, representatives of Mali and Madagascar, respectively.” Dolores, standing with her arms crossed, merely adjusted her glasses, while Darli gave a confident wave. Big Band’s eyes rested longer on Dolores than perhaps they should have, and when he realized he looked away.

Chevalier continued. “Our goal as an organization is simple: to overthrow the Four Kings’ tyrannical rule and establish a democratic government. This is easier said than done, of course, given our limited numbers and resources. What we do have, however, is knowledge. About Esaka, and the people in it.” He took a sip from his glass, composed and classy. “For instance, we know what has become of the ambitious few who’ve attempted to raid the G-Corp HQ so far. It seems they have more Jack units than the ones they used last night.”

He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Their numbers are not infinite, however, and they’re already moving to replenish their ranks. A new shipment is already on its way from G-Corp’s main production plant in the Tangled Shore.” He pursed his lips, frowning. “If we are to work together to destroy G-Corp, our first goal is to weaken G-corp and force its higher-ups to take action. As such, rather than fall for the obvious trap that is storming the building, my plan is this. Split into three teams. Team A shall leave the city to target the incoming Jack shipment and destroy them all in one fell swoop. Meanwhile, Teams B and C shall target known G-Corp accomplices in Esaka itself. Azucena Ortiz, coffee magnate, and Lucky Chloe, pop star. Both are sponsored by G-Corp in an effort to improve its public image. Targeting them will make it clear that any alliance with G-Corp is a death sentence, and only the diehard loyalists will remain.”

Chevalier leaned back in his chair and reached for his wineglass again, waving his other hand in a nonchalant manner. “Then, once Kazuya and his elite are isolated, without friends or reinforcements, we can flush them out and hunt them down. Normally the Heavenly Principles or Four Kings might get involved, but not this time. With your numbers to back up my agents, this should be un jeu d’enfant.” Like taking candy from a baby.

Band, unable to seat himself at any wrought-iron table, had stood while listening to Chevalier. This place was awfully classy for the Middle Tier, and in such esteemed and expensively-dressed company, he felt even worse about his shredded hat and trench coat. He found himself unable to object to Chevalier’s plan. Part of him worried about some kind of set-up, of course, since this seemed at least a little too good to be true, but for now the Seekers had no better lead on how to go about their mission of reprisal against G-Corp. It sounded like storming G-Corp’s HQ was about as dangerous and fruitless an endeavor as he worried it’d be, as well. Nobody with a brain would leave their most important assets out in the open where anyone could just walk in off the street and seize them, after all.

Of course, this decision rested with everyone else, and not just because he wasn’t Gold Team’s leader. The World Warrior tournament would keep Big Band occupied for the foreseeable future, though he’d be able to join the Seekers’ campaign against G-Corp if he did get eliminated. With that in mind, for now the detective was mostly an observer, and interested in hearing what the others had to say as he further considered the United Nations and their proposal.

The Midnight Walk - Scuttled Coalhaven

Setting: Snowy Thursday Morning
Lvl 9 Sandalphon (63/90) Level 6 Heismay (62/60)
Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Ace Cadet’s @Yankee Roxas & Ganondorf’s @Double Ramattra and Tenna’s @XoXKieroBombXoX Mokou’s @Goggy
Word Count: 1887

Nameless Stagecoach
𖥞: 6/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | ◆◆◆◆ | Equipment: Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/(None) | Companion: Ratshaker Rat

The more Heismay saw of the ruined village as the stagecoach rattle through its snowy streets, the more the desolate place intrigued him. From the buildings to the fences to the headstones in the graveyard on the hill, everything in this place seemed warped or twisted, not in a grotesque way, but in a fascinatingly inorganic fashion nonetheless. He couldn’t help but wonder why the builders and craftsmen of this burnt-out town would purposefully give this place such a crooked, haunted aspect, as if each decrepit structure and macabre decoration had been fastidiously fashioned from clay by giant, dextrous hands. His gaze rested longest on the giant metal kiln. Maybe it had blazed tall and proud against the cold winter nights long ago, but now the hollow hulk was every bit as dead and cold as the shallow graves in the cemetery, a solitary and forlorn sentinel over the old and withered memories that filled this place like ghosts.

In terms of actual specters, however, Heismay could see none. Only odd, ethereal links wound around that metal furnace, like a coffin chained shut so that its contents would never again see the light of day.

Thanks to the persistent low roar of the wind into which the stagecoach pushed onward, Heismay saw the rabbits before he heard them, even through the Highlands’ perennial gloom. Noticing the ordinary rabbits with white winter coats reminded him of Sandalphon’s request to stock up on food supplies, but the sight of the much larger, burlier, humanoid rabbits gave him pause. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine that the small ones might in truth be the young of the bunnymen, or at least dear to them in some way. If that was the case, whatever gamey nuggets of meat the Seekers might be able to pry from the rabbits might not be worth the wrath of the tribesmen, and in these conditions even Heismay’s keen senses couldn’t definitively suss out their numbers.

When Tenna and his Shadowguys began to weave dry yellow plant fibers into traps, however, Heismay couldn’t help but be impressed with their craftsmanship. Ramattra could only help so much with one arm, but his sharp tactical mind did allow him to place the completed traps in the most effective spots, baited with berries to draw the little creatures in. It was a lot of effort, put forth by inorganic beings who couldn’t even enjoy the fruits of their labor, which struck Heismay as rather touching. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that their efforts wouldn’t be worth it, though he did caution the machines against arousing the wrath of the bunnymen. “If you catch any, make sure those big ones don’t see. They may not take kindly to their brethren’s capture.” To their credit, Tenna’s plan actually seemed to work: by the time the stagecoach left Coalhaven, four wriggling animals were in the trappers’ grasp. It would be hard work to prepare them for the stewpot, but easy enough to snap their little necks and put an end to their unpleasant shrieking.

As they went about their business, Heismay’s attention turned to something else. Since he and the others arrived in the Highlands, the dense cloud cover over the region completely masked both stars and sky, day in and day out. Over Coalhaven, however, the eugief observed a curious phenomenon. Stars hung in the frosty air overhead, much lower and smaller than they ought to be. When the stagecoach drew near one, Heismay stood and narrowed his eyes for a closer look. Though it glowed like a lantern, the star appeared to be made of crumpled paper, about as big as he was, and -most interestingly- hung on a string that seemed to extend all the way up to the clouds. After staring for a moment in puzzlement, Heismay reached out his claws to touch it. Then he paused, imagining a baited hook on the end of a celestial fishing line, and sat back down to watch the dangling star pass by.

In the stagecoach beneath him, Sandalphon had been focused on more internal affairs. Since leaving the winter lodge she had the vehicle’s interior mostly to herself, and she used the opportunity to make some calls. At this point she’d decided on enough details that she could begin to put stage two of plan into action, which involved phoning some contacts both among the Midgar refugees and aboard the Avenger, the latter of which she called first and spent most of her time on. Very focused on this task, she paused only to assist Edward with his ovis spirits when he came calling, and to make a quick request once they finished. “I would ask that we install the window either in the rear door or in the front, at the driver’s back,” she suggested. “Otherwise, it will not be symmetrical.” The archangel didn’t obsess over symmetry, but all organized minds -human or otherwise- naturally and unwittingly liked it, so why not?

While Sandalphon kept to herself, her manner did not suggest confidentially, so if someone managed to surreptitiously listen in they might overhear her going over some sort of specialized machine prototype, including necessary components and capabilities, mostly highly technical details that would be nigh-meaningless to someone not in the know. The voice on the other end of her sigil was male, but high and reedy, with a rather squeaky British accent and a strange, cutesy dialect which made ready enough use of the third person to make identifying the speaker easy. It was Tora, the young Nopon inventor who could typically be found in the Avenger’s Proving Grounds, and despite his selfish tendencies he seemed extremely interested in Sandalphon’s project. After assuring her that he could source enough ‘goddesium’ to meet her demands, Tora bid her farewell and Sandalphon ended the call.

In short order, the Seekers bid Coalhaven farewell. The boost pads and jumps ahead of them on the Polar Pass raceway presented a daunting challenge, but Edward prepared the coach and its pullers as best he could. When the expedition finally got underway, the track turned out to be much less of a problem than it seemed. When approached the right way, the boost pads took care of most of the physics themselves, allowing the whole kit and kaboodle to sail through the air and then come down without crashing, crumpling, or tangling. Those parts of the track were exhilarating, but ultimately not that common. For the most part, the road merely wound around the ice-cold pools and icebergs of the Polar Pass, and with no other drivers around to hog the track, Edward could afford to take his time.

As it turned out, the environment around the raceway seemed to be a popular spot for a specific type of arctic wildlife: seals. With no polar bears or killer whales in sight to hunt them, and plenty of fish in the water, a variety of seals splashed around in the water or lounged around on the icy riverside, often collecting into big, blubbery piles for warmth. There were energetic Catapult Seals with tails strong enough to launch troublemakers several stories high, adorable blubberbeast families, regular old gray seals, and of course, perfectly spherical spheals. Unilaterally lazy and friendly, they posed no threat to the Seekers as they drove past, and Heismay enjoyed watching them a great deal.

The team’s trip through Polar Pass would not last long, though. After a couple slippery swerves and heart-pounding jumps, they followed the Midnight Walk as it diverged from the raceway. It led through an unremarkable, relatively barren stretch of land before bringing the expedition to what looked like a mining facility, overlooking a coniferous valley to the south.

Like the ruined village and the icy raceway before it, the plant seemed to be long abandoned. Thick blankets of snow coated the ground and the roofs, while huge icicles -several feet long in some cases- hung from the eaves, occasionally blocking doorways. What few mine tracks weren’t buried beneath the snow had long since been warped by exposure to the cold, and it would take great strength to push shrieking, rusty minecarts along them, if they could be moved at all. There was no telling how long it had been since the aerial tramway had last hauled away material for processing, but thorough Seekers -or ones with a keen sense for minerals- might still be able to find useful minerals or tools left behind by the prospectors and miners of old.

Looking at the frozen-over buildings as the stagecoach approached, Heismay got a bad feeling about the place. It would be one thing if the mine had simply become unprofitable and neglected, but the frosty corpse dangling from one of the cranes told another story. The winds that howled through the wood support towers and metal struts quickly took on a sinister timbre. “Let’s watch our backs around here,” he advised the team. “Tis an ill-omened place, and I do not like what I’m hearing.” Though the low light made it hard to tell exactly, the above-ground facility didn’t look too big, so it’d take only a few minutes for the stagecoach to get in and out unless some obstacle barred the way. But there was no telling how far its subterranean portion went, nor what might be lurking in the ice-cold darkness.

Any Seekers that did leave the stagecoach behind to prowl around inside the derelict buildings would not go unchallenged for long, for the mine was not quite as abandoned as it looked. In the darkness shuffled hideous frostbitten shapes, no two exactly alike. At some point they had perhaps been people, excessively bundled up as if to resist some ungodly cold, but with slate-blue faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain, icicles growing from their skin, and additional limbs either contorted in desperate attempts to huddle up or reach out for warmth, these things weren’t human anymore. The monsters came clad in balaclava, earmuffs, trapper hats, ski hats, scarves, and beanies, each resistant to all types of physical damage, but vulnerable to fire. If any prospective heroes delved a truly foolish distance into the facility, they might even encounter the monstrous Pompom, a hulking amalgamate with impressive strength and freezing power. Only one ray of hope could be found in the whole mine: an isolated camp site set up in the tramway control room, where a frostbitten monster in a fur coat might offer explorers a mug of hot cocoa.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

I'm baaaaack, and my love for low-power characters remains strong as ever.

A True Gentleman

Name: Hershel Layton
Origin: Professor Layton
Appearance: "Every puzzle has an answer."

Personality: Professor Layton is first and foremost a gentleman. He strives to embody all that title suggests - he's polite, amiable, soft-spoken and eloquent, humble. He treats those around him with compassion and empathy, even the more unsavory or tactless sorts, and is always willing to offer his help to anyone that may need it... though even he has limits to what kinds of personalities he'll endure. Layton keeps a cool head in all matters, maintaining a calm and collected presence that others can rely on. Only in the most dire of circumstances does his demeanor shift, particularly when those he holds dear are concerned.

Background

Professor Layton’s life is one full of adventure and intrigue, and of immense loss. Raised in a sleepy village, Hershel, in his teen years, lost his close friend while exploring a series of ancient ruins. He took up his friend’s passion for archeology and puzzles partly in remembrance, setting a course for his future he couldn't imagine.

As he grew older he became an esteemed professor of archeology in London, his reputation preceding him as tales of "Professor Layton" spread throughout the continent. Stories of him besting giant shadowy monsters, unearthing lost civilizations, exploits from impossible cities to curious villages. Along the way he met several friends and allies, and even gained an apprentice, one Luke Triton who stayed at his side for years, forging an unbreakable bond between them. While much of London, and Luke himself, extol the grandeur of his adventures, Layton prefers to keep the small and personal details to heart; the family he's never known and yet still lost, the love of his life gone forever, the orphaned girl he now raises...

(Layton will be taken from after the end of Unwound Future and sometime prior to New World of Steam, before any events transpire that lead into Layton Brothers or Layton's Mystery Journey.)

In the Now

Ever since Galeem absorbed the London he knew, Layton's life has been... normal. He's still an archeology professor, situated up north in Edinburgh, under his old Dean Delmona as well. There was no shortage of ancient relics to find and mysteries that needed a look into, so for the most part he'd gone about his days as if nothing happened at all, teaching his classes some days and traveling to far-off locales on others, in search of historic finds and puzzles. The only thing that's been off, in his Gleaming state, is that he hasn't heard from Luke in a while, no letters from America like he used to receive and no reply to his latest message. Very unusual.

Job: Professor of Archeology
Specialty: Strategist & Tactician, Problem Solver, Duelist
Inventory:

• Professor's Trunk - a simple travel case, about twice the size of an ordinary attaché, where Layton keeps his essentials, as well as any useful odds and ends he comes across. It currently contains...
  
  • A Journal, and something to write with
  • A Tea Set
  • A Puzzle Index
  • Several changes of clothes
  • Spare Hat
• Hint Coins (x5)
• Traveling funds, in several widely-accepted denominations

Lv: 5
EXP: 0/50
Abilities:

• Hint Coin Collector - Wherever he goes, Layton is able to find Hint Coins, usually in out-of-the-way nooks and conspicuous areas. Their primary use is to be traded for hints for a given puzzle, though thanks to Galeem’s influence they can help in other contexts. In combat, Layton can use a Hint Coin to strike at an opponent’s weak point, inflict “critical” damage, or evade an attack that would otherwise land. They can also be used to increase Layton’s physical abilities for a brief moment, giving him bursts of speed, longer hang-time to make a jump, and so on. Hint Coins are physical objects, so he's limited by the number he can carry, and can only be used once per effect.
• This Reminds Me of a Puzzle - True to form, Professor Layton can spin just about any scenario into a puzzle, regardless of relevance. When the Professor presents a puzzle in this manner, it appears in the current surroundings (ie, a puzzle about matches would have the required matchsticks pop into existence on a nearby surface), and can even slightly alter space (ie, a puzzle of untangling wires can significantly reduce the amount of wires present) until the puzzle is solved or abandoned, in which case things return to normal. Mundane or minor actions affected by a Puzzle are "free", though any attempt to Puzzle anything of significance - disarming a bomb, navigating a storm, avoiding an ambush, etc - require a Hint Coin to be spent.

Skills:

• A Sharp Mind - Professor Layton's intellect is quite high. There's his knack for puzzles, obviously, and there's also the fact that he's very well-read, logical, and even quite technically minded, able to jury-rig equipment from things he has on hand (he once turned a slot machine into a machine gun). His knowledge has limits, as does anyone's, though he's quick on the uptake.
• A Promising Fencer - ever since he was young, Layton had practiced the art of fencing, and in his adult years he's become very proficient. He's capable of fighting with a long sword (or anything of similar length, like a pipe or branch), against armed opponents or groups, to the best of his abilities. Common sense trumps prowess, after all.
• An Athletic Build - despite his position as a professor, Layton leads a very active life. This affords him good physicality, being acrobatic and dexterous to an impressive degree. He won't be pulling off too many backflips or anything so outrageous, but it does give him an edge.

Weaknesses:

• "A true gentleman knows that violence is not the answer." - Layton is something of a pacifist. When facing off against living foes, he always seeks a peaceful resolution, and if forced to fight he only acts defensively, seeking to disarm or convince his opponent to back down. He never strikes to harm, and he never throws the first blow no matter the circumstances.
• "A true gentleman is never without his hat." - thanks to personal convictions, Layton is steadfast in his commitment to headwear. Particularly his own. He's never seen without it, and he never takes it off in any circumstance. He'll even avoid situations in which he may have to remove it. He always makes some comment to brush it off, though the insistence can raise eyebrows.
• "A true gentleman is still human, after all." - this is to reference both the physical limits that a human can't overcome, especially taking the current state of the world into account, but also to all else that can affect the average person. Layton isn't immune to manipulation, or to things that may alter his perspective or mental state, or even to having his emotions played with. He may seem unflappable, but at the end of the day he's as susceptible as anyone else to the maladies of life.

Spirits: N/A

Rapport: N/A

Tried to extrapolate a bit more use out of what he can accomplish, so let me know if any of it needs a fix!

@TruthHurts

A unique and interesting character concept. After some consideration I'm willing to accept him, and you, for another attempt. I'll be hoping for the best.

Layton is going to end up joining White Team in the Frozen Highlands. As a result of his travels in search of historic finds, he'll have been drawn to the next destination ahead of White Team on the Midnight Walk. Everyone else with reach that destination not this coming Sunday, but the next Sunday. Your post/s before then can show Layton traveling southwest through the snowy, treacherous region along with a caravan of fleas (the adults friendly if a bit bumbling, as well as only three feet tall at most, and the youngsters more like fluffy flying dogs than anything) in search of a village where a special, traditional festival is said to be held.

Maybe you can have Layton find an opportunity to do what he does best and solve a puzzle or two to open gates or passages in their path.

An Idiot's Dungeon Union

Diffused across the dungeon's dimly-lit corridors and shadowy recesses, spread like a pat of butter across too much bread, Schnupfen could finally begin to decompress. Though malleable and variously incorporeal, his tenebrous form was neither infinite nor truly amorphous, so by literally scattering his brain throughout his domain he could mitigate his ability to feel panic and dilute the stress that plagued him. This also resulted in the byproduct of giving the dungeon a spooky ambiance as his bleary eyes pulsed in the shadows and his fitful breathing disturbed the silence. Bit by bit, Schnupfen's sudden and inexplicable anxiety melted into the gloom, and when he felt ready the shadow began to collect himself.

It wasn't long after Schnupfen coalesced that his terrified prognostication came true. Tramping feet and unfamiliar voices, well after the return of Zogi and his away team, told the dungeon that unwelcome visitors had arrived. Though no longer stricken with fear, Schnupfen still felt an acute dread when he confirmed the intrusion; if he had skin, goosebumps would have pimpled his flesh. It was a bad time for an invasion, after all. Some defenses had only just been established, and they weren't anywhere near presentable, let alone complete. Sadly, they would have to do. As far as he knew, Salbjörg, Muste, and the rats were all still absent. That left the dungeon's fate in the hands of the Oracle, Zogi, the minions, and of course himself. Zoppy's absence was a conscious omission, since she would be a liability if anything. Honestly, the dungeon could do without her. Still, it wasn't all doom and gloom, and Schnupfen quivered not just with fear, but anticipation. He was eager to see his traps in action, and if push came to shove as it did during the dungeon's first endangerment, take life by his own hand.

Mere moments after the adventurers entered, Schnupfen was with them. The abilities to become incorporeal, travel through walls, and then hide in the darkness made him an ideal first responder. He supposed that someone with some serious arcane acumen might be able to detect him amidst the shadows, but these intruders did not strike him as anywhere near that level. They numbered eight in total, almost equal to the number of dungeon keepers (if half of them weren't missing in action) and for the most part, sported only a smattering of shoddy, homemade equipment. If anything, they looked more like teenagers playing at heroism than heroes themselves. Nevertheless, with the dungeon and its defenders so newly born, they presented a serious threat, and none more so than the familiar young man at the head of the group. Schnupfen's invisible lip curled in disgust as he recognized the boy from before. Revival...a hideous perversion of the natural order. To return from death was to spurn Mother Void, to reject the sweet and velvety nothingness that rightfully awaited every weary soul at the end of the road they called life. It affronted Schnupfen, but nevertheless, he would do his duty as Mother Void's envoy to return these wretches to the abyss from which they came, however many times it would take.

He watched, possessed by devilish delight, as several intruders ran afoul of his traps. One perished with an arrow in his neck, and another tumbled into his pitfall. Despite (or perhaps because of) all his second-guessing and perfectionism, his mechanisms and been cunning and lethally placed, after all! That gave him three kills under his belt, the most out of any dungeon keeper by far. If only his second arrow had met its mark in that wannabe hero's cranium. His ability to deflect a flying arrow with that sword of his was rather worrying, but Schnupfen chalked it up to suboptimal placement of the second arrow trap's components for now. The real problem was the bizarre but horrifying sensation that rankled him when one of the adventurers opened up the chest he placed--quite the whiplash from his joy seeing one of those vile mages run afoul of his pit seconds earlier. What was...oh, no. In all his hustle and bustle earlier, flitting this way and that as he tried to set up all the different traps, had he forgotten to put anything in the chest? Damn it. Now adventurers would be much less likely to stumble into his pitfall. Yet that fact did little to explain that dreadful sensation. Was it just nerves...? Come on, Schnupfen, he mentally berated himself. Get it together!

By then, the dungeon's defenders finally made their move. Or rather the dungeon's defender, singular, in the form of Zogi as he confronted the reunited party in the guillotine chamber, the dungeon's halfway point. Schnupfen watched, disconcerted. On one hand, Zogi was a capable goblin, but on the other hand he was alone against a party of six, and the shadow remembered exactly how Zogi last fared in a one-on-one. What chance did he have?

Instead of attacking, however, Zogi put on a show. Schnupfen realized what he was up to right away. He was trying to buy time, maybe for more defenders to show up and even the odds, but probably for that cursed guillotine to work its subtle but bloodthirsty magic. Even if he didn't understand how it worked, after all, Schnupfen could smell sorcery from a mile away. Just being in the same room as that thing made his eyes water, but it would do a lot worse to the adventurers if given half a chance. Hopefully.

Of course, once the intruders ran out of amusement or patience, they could end this farce in a heartbeat. Schnupfen could no longer play the part of passive observer. He needed to intercede now. But how? He did not wield the strength to meaningfully hurt these people before either the mage or the priest cast at him, and if he spurred them to violence, it would be over for Zogi that much faster. Maybe now was the time to reveal his penchant for misdirection.

Schnupfen positioned himself a short distance behind the group as they stood spellbound by Zogi's dance, back in the antechamber where his pitfall was. He his inside the pit, then adjusted his tone, adding a little echo for good measure. "Hello?" he called out plaintively in the voice of the fallen mage boy. "Guys? It's dark down here! Please, get me out!" He gave a very convincing teary sniffle, which was one of his specialties. "Uuhuh...I...I sprained my ankle real bad when I fell. Hurt so much I passed out for a minute. But it's only like twenty feet deep! You gotta pull me out, don't leave me down here! It'd just take two of you, somebody brought some rope, right!? Please!"

Ideally, the party would split again, some heading back to help out their fallen companion while the others kept a suspicious eye on Zogi, ready to cut him down if he tried any funny business but less willing to push forward until the whole team was together again. And all the while, those who remained would be inexplicably drawn to the guillotine. Schnupfen himself wasn't in any danger unless one of the magic-users just decided to fling spells into the darkness for the fun of it. Then again, they could just be very paranoid, the thought of which made Schnupfen paranoid.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Esaka - the Pools

Time of Day: Sunny Thursday Noon
Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (187/150) Level 11 Big Band (82/110)
Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Zenkichi’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Harry and Kim’s @Eviledd1984 Terry’s @Terry Bogard Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy
Word Count: 3389 / 1282

Despite the overwhelming number of distractions, Nadia’s counter-clockwise journey around the Pools did eventually lead her to the Tekken section. Just as with the Mortal Kombat and World Warrior portions of the tier, there was no actual demarcation to tell her she was leaving one tournament’s zone and entering another, so she wasn’t aware she’d passed the border until a minute or two in. In fact, clearest indicator -and the one that finally clued the feral in- ended up being the bulletin boards set up at the rest areas, which now displayed stage names that started with ‘T’ instead of ‘W’. Once she realized, Nadia stopped at an elevator gazebo to look around, hoping she hadn’t already unwittingly passed Beowulf by.

As she watched, it quickly became apparent that a newbie like her couldn’t possibly tell the difference between a Tekken match and a World Warrior match at a glance. Maybe veterans of the city’s competitive circuit could pick out the subtle differences in the way each tournament’s duelists fought, but such discrete variations in stance and style were lost upon her. As with everything here in Esaka, it came with time and experience, she supposed. Unfortunately Nadia had the benefit of neither, at least as far as these tournaments were concerned. Sure, she could scrap and street fight with the best of them, but formal competition was totally foreign to her. Plus, even if there hadn’t been any provisions about fighting dirty, there was no way to know which of her abilities were subject to the Heavenly Principles’ inexplicable regulation until she tried to use something in the heat of the moment, and it didn’t work the way she expected. A second’s confusion or hesitation could be the difference between life and death in a tournament where losers could be killed. Theoretically the Life Gem wouldn’t let her die, but only now did it occur to Nadia that even the Life Gem’s incredible restorative power could be subject to the Principles’ adjustment. It was a scary thought.

Of course, the catgirl couldn’t waste much time on worrisome introspection when awesome spectacles were unfolding just a few dozen feet in front of her. Somewhere along the way here she’d lost Robo-fortune, but she figured she’d see her Kameo again before their next match started. At the moment, her attention lay on a newly-started match between a burly Chinese fighter in red and a large catlike beast on a round stone arena surrounded by rock walls on one side and the sinuous body of a carved dragon on the other. The martial artist, Ryuhi, came out the gate strong with a barrage of potent punches and kicks that suggested years of diligent training. At first it seemed like his overwhelming pressure left his beastly opponent stuck blocking and unable to fight back. Nadia found herself rooting for the underdog (or undercat, in this case) as Ryuhi got around Gray’s clumsy block to land blow after blow, each spinning backfist and high side kick ringing Gray’s ears almost as much as his beach ball-sized bell.

Just when Ryuhi decided to get fancy in order to end the round, though, his feline foe wound up and decked him with a hefty wallop from his paw, which he followed up with a stream of blazing fire breath. That alone seemed to deal an inordinate amount of damage, leaving Ryuhi not just astonished, but panicked. As Gray charged, Ryuhi sprang to his feet and threw out a spin kick in an attempt to stop him, only for the nervous blow to fall short and result in a brutal whiff punish as the cat-thing slapped him to the floor with his massive mitts. Ryuhi crumpled, dazed, meaning that with only a few heavy hits, Gray had taken the round.

Nadia’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa,” Nadia muttered, standing with her arms crossed as her tail twitched restlessly behind her. She couldn’t help but wonder how some fighters were allowed to do such extreme damage that they could achieve victory with just a couple hits. Admittedly, combo specialists like her could end most fights in two or three touches if she completed every combo, but that was hard work that took serious focus and execution. After all, foes could slip or flip out of her grasp and turn the tables after even the slightest lapse in timing. Gray did look like a slow, easy target, but still, the risk and reward did not seem remotely proportionate.

The second round didn’t go any better for Ryuhi than the first. Anxious to lock Gray down again and keep him from taking control of the match, the martial artist threw himself face-first into the beast’s fire breath. From there he scrambled to try and deal with Gray’s clumsy but punishing attacks, but even if he landed five solid techniques for every time Gray swatted him, Ryuhi came out worse for wear. Toward the end of the brawl he finally seemed to be getting a grasp of the feline’s range and recovery, managing to block and dodge a handful of attacks in a row. Just as he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, however, the kung fu fighter failed to fend off a grab and got thrown to the cold stone floor once more. GRAY WINS!

As Ryuhi groaned, one hand to his face as he tried to pick himself up, a toned, scantily-clad brunette on the sidelines not far from Nadia tried to rouse him with a cheer. “C’mon, Ryuhi! You can bring it back!” she called, pointing at his opponent. “You’re the better fighter! Just do it clean!”

Nadia blinked at her, confused. The man had lost two rounds, wasn’t it over? To her surprise, however, Ryuhi got to his feet and faced Gray one more time, freshly motivated and full of determination. “Oh, must be a best of three in Tekken,” the feral said aloud to nobody in particular. She then cleared her throat and shouted out her own support for Ryuhi, her initial support for Gray all but forgotten. “Yeah, kick his fluffy ass!” The creature in question gave her a sad look, his ears and whiskers drooping, but Nadia closed her heart to him.

ROUND THREE: FIGHT!

This time, Ryuhi let neither intimidation nor impatience get the better of him. He closed half the distance, then let Gray come to him. With his speed, he could reliably punish the feline’s attacks when he blocked them, and if Gray wound up for an even bigger bash, a quick jump kick or dashing punch could shut him down. The beast’s huge paws and fiery breath did a lot of chip damage, but once Ryuhi’s opportunistic attacks began to add up, he quickly built a sizable lead. He did take a couple stray hits that made Nadia’s breath catch in her throat, but after a hectic forty seconds of fighting the kung fu fighter clutched out his first win.

After that, the tables seemed to have turned. Round four saw Ryuhi perform even better, playing the matchup just about perfectly now that he’d seen every Gray could do, while the doughy creature began to run out of steam. Nadia’s smile gradually widened, nodding along to the rhythm of Ryuhi’s beatdown. In a first-to-two, she realized, Gray’s unusual damage would have earned him a cheap win, but with the extra round to adapt the more skilled fighter was asserting himself. As round four finished in his favor, the Chinese girl in white (probably Ryuhi’s girlfriend, if Nadia had to guess) was cheering as she bounced up and down, and most other spectators were in his corner as well.

“Fraud detected!” a round man in red with a neck pillow called to Gray, while a spiky-haired janitor used the robot arm on his trash hand to give Ryuhi a thumbs-up.

Nadia grinned. “No love lost ‘fur’ our feline friend, huh?”

Minmin looked her way, still beaming. “Nope! Robberies are fun once in a while, but in the end newbie-stompers like Gray can’t measure up to real fighters like Ryuhi!”

“Oof,” the feral winced. “Careful that critter doesn’t hear you. He’d probably take it purr-sonally!”

The final round began with a surprise, however. Using his stored-up energy, Gray transformed, relinquishing his enormous beastly body for the appearance of a valiant warrior wearing a red scarf. “Behold, my true form!” he announced, striking a pose. “Let’s do this, man to man!” With a grin, Ryuhi obliged. In his human form, Gray’s fighting style was completely different, favoring energy blasts from his hands instead of huge, clumsy strikes. His new abilities gave him an early lead as Ryuhi had to switch from defensive, patient play to aggressive rushdown. For a few moments it seemed like Gray would close out the final round, but once again his opponent managed to adapt and overcome, narrowly seizing victory in a tense and exciting finish.

Nadia clapped along with the others, then got a move on after watching Minmin jump into Ryuhi’s arms. Their affection reminded her how much she missed Ace, off on his ice-cold adventure through the Frozen Highlands. His support would mean the world to her as she fought through her bracket, but at the same time, what would he think of the Banishing Flats incident? She couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of a horrified look on his face. Would he still be interested in her if he learned of the devastation caused by her foolishness? No, stupid question; how could he, or anyone, be? Hopefully he’d never find out. To that end, redeeming herself by winning Mortal Kombat was more important than ever.

The cat burglar was so lost in thought as she wandered that she didn’t see the stocky man in front of her until she practically bumped into him. “Yo, Fortune!” The wrestler waved a hairy, muscular arm as he flashed his trademark grin. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Nadia blinked, snapped herself out of it, then grinned. “Lookin’ for you, actually! I finished my first match and my second ain’t for a couple hours, so I figured I’d go around and see what everyone’s up to’. Already saw Annie and Filia, so you’re last on my list.” She snapped her fingers into the double finger guns. “But not least, of course! ‘Howl’ you doin’?”

“Not bad!” Beowulf replied, leaning against the elevated walkway’s wooden railing to let another couple fighters pass. “Fought this kid named ‘Terrific Forelock’ in round one. Not too shabby, but he just about shouted himself hoarse callin’ out his attacks. ‘Psycho Blade, Psycho Blade, Psycho Blade’...sheesh!” The man chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, I do it ‘cause I gotta hype up the crowd, but even I ain’t that bad, right?” He crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “Course not. Uh…how’d the others do?”

The feral stretched out her arms as she replied. “Easy wins for Annie so far. Filia won one, lost one. She fought hard, but in the end she was Mako-toast.”

Beowulf raised one eyebrow at her, momentarily confused. “Uh, well, I’m sure she’ll pull it together. ‘Specially with that parasite of hers. Kids just need a li’l motivation, right?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the arena behind him, a donut-shaped wooden platform decorated with giant fishbones. “If you wanna stick around, my next match’s startin’ any second now! I’m up against this lady named Shina. I’m hungry for a good fight, so wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” Nadia patted him on the shoulder. “And watch your step, or it won’t just be your appetite that’s wetted!”

The wrestler double-jumped over to the stage just as his opponent entered from the opposite side. With tan skin, a good build, spiky blonde hair, and a stylish, somewhat militaristic outfit, Shina seemed like someone who could fight hard and look good doing it. It was hard for Nadia to not like her, but she owed it to her fellow NMO fighter to root for Beowulf. “Check it out!” the wrestler announced, showboating to a (mostly) imaginary audience as he stepped forward. “The name’s Beowulf! I am two hundred and eighty-seven pounds of folded steel…and sex appeal!” He flexed, wiggling his eyebrows. Nadia rolled her eyes.

Shina snorted with laughter, her smile incredulous, then assumed a confident, scrappy stance, her open front hand low and her closed back hand high. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Once the Heavenly Principles started the match, the two circled the stage’s central hole to clash explosively. Shina barreled forward with a heavy clothesline as Beowulf surrounded himself in a fiery aura to launch himself forward. “Ao-ao-awoo!” The two slammed together, traded blows, then launched into an all-out slugfest. Beowulf managed to catch his foe off guard by kicking his chair forward, which slammed into Shina’s shins and knocked her down, allowing Beowulf to approach. True to his grappling roots, he went for a grab first thing and successfully snatched her. Once he lifted her into the air, he performed a Berserker Headbutt, two Naegling Knee Lifts, and ended his grab stance with a scoop slam.

Shina would not be toyed around with so easily, though. She sprang up, stopped his offense with a couple jabs, then switched things up with a sneaky fast grab. Once she had the wrestler in her grasp, she performed a giant swing to hurl him into the air, then backflipped forward and grabbed his head between her knees to slam him into the ground. “Not bad!” Beowulf opted to backdash away from her slightly late meaty hit on wakeup (which put him a little too close to the stage’s donut hole) then launched forward with Wulf Blitzer again. “Ao!” She blocked the first charge, then attempted a counterattack, only for Beowulf to blast backward the same way. “Ao!” Shina continued forward with a strong kick, but the Wulf Blitzer still wasn’t over as Beowulf cannoned diagonally up and toward her. “AWOO!” Shina’s whiff left her too overextended to deal with her opponent’s cross-up, so once his Naegling Knee Drop landed he followed up with a combo. After a handful of hits, he whipped out a gigantic arm and bulled forward in a huge punch. “One-twenty inch PYTHON!”

Shina went flying over the edge, but just in the knick of time she grabbed onto a big fishbone and used it to swing around. Beowulf, who’d paused to build up a little Hype by listening for the splash, instead witnessed Shina transform into a towering leopard and dropkick him straight into the arena’s donut hole. “Whuh-!” He hit the water with a big splash of his own, and the Heavenly Principles declared it a ring-out.

Nadia giggled, impressed by Shina’s new form. “Lots of people turnin’ into cats and vice versa today, huh?” Beowulf was back up and on his feet in no time, though, and the battle progressed at a blistering pace. Though barely able to keep up with the action at times, Nadia watched with a big smile on her face. Even if Beowulf was a big doofus, he was a born entertainer. He played to the crowd with ridiculous moves like the Geatish Trepak Dance, then used the Hype to fuel further antics. With plenty of tricks like the chair he called ‘the Hurting’, Wulf Blitzer, a fake-out Wulf Blitzer that became a command grab instead, he enjoyed an advantage most of the time, but when Shina assumed her beast form she seized the strength and reach advantage for herself to shut down Beowulf’s nonsense.

Round two ended in the wrestler’s favor after he got pushed to the very edge of the stage, then landed a grab and used Da Grendel Killa to dunk his foe behind him. Round three was lightning-fast as Shina transformed, seized Beowulf in another giant swing, then juggled him with a killer chain of upward and downward claw slashes that carried him all the way to the edge for yet another ring-out. That meant that Beowulf needed to win round four or be eliminated, and he did not disappoint. The man actually managed to flip the script on Shina’s ferocious beast form with an armored uppercut from his severed arm and keep her locked in a combo until her transformation expired, allowing him to clinch the win.

That victory paved the way for a final round as both fighters faced one another from across the arena, soaking wet but still full of energy thanks to all those premature ring-outs. “It’s been fun,” Shina remarked, baring her fangs. “But it’s time to wrap this up.”

“This stage ain’t big enough for the two of us!” Beowulf agreed.

In her beast form, Shina pounced over the gap, then ravaged her opponent’s guard with a series of claw slashes. Beowulf caught her low with a surprisingly fast stomp but couldn’t convert, then just barely missed a grab, which earned him a quick but punishing combo as Beowulf got launched, hurled downward and left flat on his back next to the edge. Shina finished with a ruthless falling X-slash, only for him to roll between the leopard’s legs and throw out a mule kick that nearly pushed her off the edge he almost went over. Snarling, she whirled around with a scything slash, but Beowulf took advantage of her blind haymaker to armor through it with his level-one Blockbuster. “Gigantic…ARM!”

The severed arm’s giant fist hurled Shina backward over the water. She grabbed hold of a fishbone to swing around again, but this time Beowulf was ready. As his foe whirled around and flew back toward him, he leaped straight for her to snatch her out of the air, then lean forward for a body press. “Canis...Major!”

SPLOOSH

Both fighters disappeared into the water. They bobbed to the surface a second later, Shina back in her human form. Nadia blinked at them quizzically, not sure who won until golden letters welled up from the stage to decide the victor. BEOWULF WINS!

Shina laughed in disbelief. “What!? Wasn’t that a double knockout?”

“It’s ‘cause you went out first!” Beowulf crowed. “Booyeah! The line for autographs starts here!”

“What, in the water?” Shina questioned him.

The two continued to bicker lightheartedly as they swam for the nearest ladder and hauled themselves up, then made for the towel station at the nearest rest area. Nadia just followed along as they went at it, highly amused at how things turned out. Even if that match ended in a ring-out every single time, it had been one of the most entertaining fights she’d seen yet. Of course, the day was still young, with an entire afternoon of pools matches ahead of her–including her own second match at one-thirty. Before then, though, the feral had a mind to get a bite to eat. Somehow, it had already been a few hours since the tournaments officially began, so she was already getting hungry. Guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. After telling Beowulf her plans, she invited both him and Shina to join her, and both accepted. With a jocular attitude, the three headed off to round up Annie and Filia, provided that they had a little free time as well, then make for the Middle Tier where they could find somewhere to eat.

---

Once the uncommonly burly tiger called Rhajang was back on its feet, Band took a deep breath -as best he could with a broken respirator- and steeled his brass body as he awaited those golden letters. This wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but it was doable. Second verse, same as the first, baby,, he thought as his pneumatic organs sputtered and wheezed.

Without further ado, the Heavenly Principles decreed: ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

The tiger let out a nerve-wracking, primal roar as it leaped high into the air, high enough that even Band had to look up. As soon as his hat tipped back, the sun flooded into his eyes, and Rhajang became a dark, silhouetted blur against the bright sky. Damn. In that split second, he worried that he couldn’t time Beat Extend in order to properly anti-air like this. He also couldn’t stop himself from wondering if this was just an unfortunate coincidence, or the product of his opponent’s scheme, and the sign of Rhajang being much more intelligent than Band previously believed. Such a thought was useless right now, of course, but in that moment of hesitation he gave up on trying to snatch Rhajang with Beat Extend. He simply blocked high instead, and the next moment the tiger’s full weight drove its claws down across his guard in a curtain-shredding slash.

From there Rhajang unleashed its bestial assault much as it did during round one. It batted at him with repeated swipes from its left and right forepaws, though this time it moved around much more, forcing Band to adjust his direction a few times to avoid getting opened up. Crouching to block low strikes and standing to guard against aerial attacks was basic stuff, but just as before Rhajang was just fast enough to keep things interesting. Of course, the detective had no intention of just sitting there while the tiger slowly chipped him down. He bided his time for a crucial moment, then as Rhajang sprang up to try a quick overhead, finally let a light Beat Extend fly. He soaked a painful hit as the tambourine halves clamped down on the airborne beast, rigorously rattled the jangles, and let the dazed animal fall in order to kick off another combo.

This time, Band belted the beast with a Bass Drop, the sound erupting from his side caps (and from the gramophone beneath his hat) strong enough to hold Rhajang aloft. “Speak low!” From there, he leaned back and deployed a kick stand to support himself for a double kick. “Two boots!” He jumped up, popped open his center side valve for a baritone blast, then deployed his clarinet like a wasp stinger for a spike-and-twist that set up a blast blast from his highest side valve. Band fell fast and landed before Rhajang, allowing him to juggle the tiger with a little pedal just before it hit the ground. “Hot socks!” After that the first hit of his knee trombone slide popped Rhajang back up, so Band could honk it twice with his bike horn, land a couple more hits, and finally send the tiger packing with the pile driver-like slams of a heavy Take the A Train. Bang bang…BANG!

Though it hit the raft hard enough to crack the wooden boards, Rhajang wouldn’t take that combo lying down. It could tell that Band was winded, and sooner or later, the detective would surely make a fatal mistake. Rhajang took off running, circling around its opponent. Its claws dug into the raft’s planks beneath its feet, giving it excellent grip, while Band had a harder time adjusting. Band attempted to knock it down with Giant Slam, but the huge drum pedal was unluckily timed, slamming the raft while the tiger was mostly off the ground.

Finally Rhajang charged, running in a zigzag pattern. Band crouched down to block, only for Rhajang to dart right past him, so close that its striped fur brushed his trench coat. It then turned on a dime and with the help of one clawed paw and used the other to slash into the detective’s left leg. He grunted in pain as he extended a fan of pipe organs low, but Rhajang leaped up, slashing twice in midair. The first knocked off his hat, and the second grazed his scalp, drawing blood. Band jerked away as Rhajang came down, but before the tiger could sink its teeth in, he caught it between the halves of his giant brass bell in a well-timed grab.

He rang the bell, rattling the beast within, then released it so it’d slump straight into a saxophone uppercut. As Rhajang flew upward, yowling, Band whipped out his bagpipes and began to play. Strident notes rang out across the pools as blood trickled down his face, forcing him to close one eye. By the time Rhajang slammed into the ground, he was ready. He jumped forward and threw out his Five Thousand Pound Slam, but when Rhajang retreated from the dropkick, he landed on his back and teched forward to bounce right up to the big cat.

Band crouched down, but instead of blocking, he stuck one leg out and opened it up to poke the tiger with a tiny oboe. By then Rhajang was already attacking, but its furious slash lost to the Sharp Note thanks to the armor from Bagpipe Blues, and from there it was smooth sailing. Band stupefied the beast with Bass Drop, launched it with another saxophone uppercut, jumped, let out baritone and bass blasts, and sent Rhajang sailing with another massive dropkick. “Lay back!” Teching forward again got him close enough to hit his foe off the ground with his double trombone slide. “Black…and blue!” From there he kept the combo rolling with the Sound Stun from Beat Extend, jumped to perform his usual aerial string of tambourine grind into clarinet spike, and landed with enough time to ring Rhajang with his musical triangle.

From there, it was a simple matter of linking into another heavy Take the A Train that he canceled into Super-Sonic Jazz. “Horn crush!” He boosted forward as a giant french horn, carrying the tiger to the edge of the stage, then stopped short to deliver a brass knuckle beatdown courtesy of Bagpipe Blues. “TUBATUBATUBATUBATUBATUBATUBA…TUBA!” His final punch hurtled the tiger across the water, and it was senseless before it hit the surface.

BIG BAND WINS

“...Expect the same welcome next time.” Letting out a labored breath, Band extended a tiny mechanical arm toward his head, a little handkerchief held between its padded pincers. He wiped the blood from his eyes and off his scalp, then bent to retrieve his hat. It was in bad shape, much like his trench coat and respirator. Ultimately he hadn’t been in that much danger against such a one-dimensional opponent, but he sure felt like he’d been put through the wringer. “Hoo boy. Could use a nice long break after that one.”

Fortunately, a quick consultation of one of the tier’s bulletin boards informed him that he wouldn’t have his third Winners-side match until two, according to the Heavenly Principles’ calculations. After breathing a sigh of relief, Band set off in search of a lift to Esaka’s Middle Tier in the hopes that someone up there could patch him up.

---

When Yayama left Roman Cancel behind in the hopes of burying her existential turmoil beneath the assurance that she could indeed make a positive difference in the world, she found a Low Tier abuzz with activity. Plenty of people and yokai were out and about, many immersed in the serpentine lifestreams that snaked through the air above the cobbled streets and low-rent condos like the aurora borealis over Coerthas. Everywhere she looked, she found excitement and intrigue as the citizens tuned in to the pools, and not just for the sake of cheap bets.

In some ways, qualifying rounds of Esaka’s tournaments were of greater interest to the average Low Tier denizen than Top 8. After all, even if few ever managed to reach the end of their brackets, hopeful Low Tier fighters formed the majority of every tournament’s registrants. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine that there would be no real tournaments without them; just repetitive exhibitions for the established elite. As such, pools were where the people down here got to watch their friends try their luck and shape things up. And even though most such competitors got eliminated quickly, often without winning a single fight, every so often an unexpected hero would rise from obscurity–a Low Tier ‘god’ who managed to seize victory from Middle or even High Tier fighters and rally enthusiastic spectators behind them. Even if he or she didn’t win, getting far enough in bracket could turn a no-name fighter into a minor celebrity overnight, so there was no shortage of hype matches.

Before Yayama could really immerse herself in the community, though, a man wandering the area happened to spot her. A relieved smile spread across his face as he began to walk toward her, his measured stride neither too fast nor too aggressive, opening a large fan to flutter her way in the hopes of getting the dark knight’s attention. With short black hair and shiny black eyes. He wore a set of voluminous blue-black hakama that bore a mountainous butterfly pattern, along with a blue jacket that featured huge, flowing sleeves. Shirtless men were relatively common in Esaka, but that accentuating jacket along with his uncommonly muscular chest made this fellow seem much more shirtless than most. His garb, along with the short black hair and shiny black eyes (Galeem’s sunset-red glow notwithstanding) beneath the tiny pair of round spectacles perched on his nose, made him reminiscent of the men of Doma. His air of confident and sophistication set him apart from the Low Tier fighters around him; he did not look like he belonged here at all. After flagging her down, the gentleman stopped a few feet away from Yayama and offered her a polite bow.

“Good morning,” he told her. “I’m very glad to have caught you, noble lady. My name is Anji Mito, and today I have the pleasure of extending you greetings on behalf of the United Nations. Today, it seems, I represent more than just my home country of Japan.” He idly opened a fan in order to fan himself. If he’d been in the area looking for her, he’d probably been running around for some time. “Please, allow me to explain. Last night, one of our agents witnessed your heroic actions during the attack on Banishing Flats, and every time he returned to the scene this morning, he found you digging through the rubble, hoping to save yet more lives.”

Anji gave her a respectful nod. “It’s clear to us that you are a virtuous soul. If you want to protect the people of Esaka, and to mete out justice to those responsible, your organization and mine are of like mind.” He stowed his fans as he folded his sleeves together. “The United Nations is a coalition of fighters from the many countries of planet Earth. The closest thing that Esaka has to a ‘resistance’, in that our ultimate goal is to depose the Four Kings as an institution and bring a new dawn to Esaka. Yet, now that the Four Kings have given their blessing, it is also an opportunity to destroy the menace that is G-Corporation. We are in a position to do that, and given the heroism demonstrated by your cohort, we believe that mutual cooperation will do the greatest good.”

He half-turned away and extended a closed fan toward the nearest elevator to the Pools. “So on behalf of the United Nations, I would like to invite you and yours to meet our leader over lunch, as well as a few more of our members. Many of us are involved in the tournaments, though, so it won’t be a terribly formal occasion. No dark boardrooms, stuffy penthouses, or secret headquarters here.” He bowed to Yayama again. “Of course, you are free to decline, but I believe that our intelligence would be of great use to you.” The gentleman fixed her with a charming smile. “What do you say?”

---

Up in the pools, Sakura’s martial prowess earned her another victory in her third Winners-side match. This time her opponent Golrio had put up more than the semblance of a challenge, but after a stolen first round the peppy street fighter had turned the tables on her explosive opponent and taken another step on the long road toward Bison. With three matches under her belt, she could expect no more than two that afternoon, and a longer wait before she needed to fight again.

By now, with over half of the World Warrior’s competitors already eliminated from the tournament, more spectators could be found on the sidelines of pretty much every match. Whether non-participants newly arrived from other tiers, or fighters who’d already lost two matches but wanted to see more, these onlookers attended the matches of tournament favorites and lucky Low Tiers alike. Sakura was neither, but it seemed that she’d drawn the interest of at least one fan already. Just after she took the stage in order to square off against Golrio, a woman who’d discreetly followed her after Sakura’s victory over Blue Suede Goo settled in to watch. This beautiful and elegant lady, with a huge dark violet braid and an intricate but light lavender kimono, paid rapt attention to Sakura as she fought and eventually claimed the win. She politely clapped rather than cheering uproariously, and didn’t seem eager to make the street fighter’s acquaintance, but when Sakura went to move on, so did she.

Frozen Highlands - Winter Lodge

Time of Day: Snowy Thursday Morning
Lvl 9 Sandalphon (60/90) Level 6 Heismay (59/60)
Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Ace Cadet’s @Yankee Roxas & Ganondorf’s @Double, Ramattra and Tenna’s @XoXKieroBombXoX Mokou’s @Goggy
Word Count: 1904

Nameless Stagecoach
𖥞: 6/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | ◆◆◆◆ | Equipment: Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/(None) | Companion: Ratshaker Rat

For Ace Cadet

Items obtained:
Frilled Claw
A set of very jagged duel blades, mostly held together by cloth bindings. Though neither too durable nor too sharp, their lacerations inject soporific powder into organic targets’ bloodstreams, quickly building up a sedative effect

Somnacanth Dust
A dried organ containing soporific powder. In large quantities like this, it’s a strong and fast-acting sedative that can put even large targets under, though one the initial effect wears off almost any attack will awaken the target

Spider Silk
A very strong natural fiber, spun from the spinnerets of an unusually large arachnid. Can be used as a substitute for string or rope in a variety of crafting projects, or made into a high-quality net

Living alone for a long time had made Heismay a light sleeper, since he couldn’t rely on anything but his own senses and preparedness should something go bump in the night. Even if things were different now, and there were plenty of allies around that could alert him to any threats, old habits were hard to break. Nevertheless, even though camping out in an abandoned house in the middle of a dark forest was practically asking for a nighttime ambush, the whole night somehow passed by without any incidents. When Heismay awoke, a bit on the early side but not painfully so, he actually felt pretty well rested. Not to mention surprised that he’d managed to get a good night’s sleep in peace. Sandalphon would probably call it a miracle.

Slowly, Heismay let himself down from the bar he hung from throughout the night, then straightened up with his hands on his lower back. He performed a couple twists and stretches, his stiff bones cracking and popping. “Oof…” The eugief gently pushed open the closet door, then stepped out into the master bedroom, rubbing his eyes. It wasn’t much brighter out here than it had been in his padded refuge; after all, the sun never rose on the Frozen Highlands nowadays. With no visible day-night cycle in this region thanks to the thick, perennial cloud cover, he could easily see his circadian rhythms getting thrown out of whack if he spent much longer here. There was no telling how much longer it would be before the Seekers finished their mission in this region, but if his estimations of pace and distance weren’t too far off, the expedition could very well reach Moon Mountain today.

Within a few minutes Heismay was all packed up and ready for travel, clad in the child-size parka bought for him in Snowdin. By now the Naytiba poison splashed on it during the big battle in the Raphael Space center was just a stain, not even malodorous anymore, which was a relief. He went down the stairs from the lodge’s second story into the spacious living room where a number of more communal Seekers had spent the night, warm in the radiance of the well-stocked fireplace. Some of them had been up late doing some kind of activity with Tenna, but he didn’t know who and wasn’t curious enough to ask. Some of his compatriots were fellow early risers, already up and preparing their equipment for the day’s journey, while a few heroes were still in the process of waking up.

Unexpectedly, Sandalphon had yet to make an appearance, which was odd given that she tended to be the first person present at any kind of gathering, her plans and words assembled well in advance. As more teammates trickled in, Heismay took a headcount himself. Although neither ended up enjoying a stiff drink together last night, both monster hunters looked rested and ready for what would probably be a long day of travel and combat. Meanwhile Blazermate, Tenna, and Ramattra all looked bored and antsy, eager to get going. Heismay supposed that if one didn’t need to sleep, six to eight hours of downtime per day would probably get pretty dull, especially for an entertainer like Tenna. That little white dog from last night did seem attached to him, though, so maybe he’d had his hands full after all. Roxas’ dog Scamp, loyal and low-maintenance, probably made for much better nighttime company

With how tidy and well-furnished this lodge seemed to be, Sectonia had hopefully managed to get some beauty sleep, even if her accommodations still fell well below her personal standards. That left Mokou and Ganondorf, who both appeared to be in good shape. Even if he was a king, Heismay expected that a warlord like Ganondorf had probably spent many a night in a spartan commander’s tent so that he could ride into battle or lay siege the next day. And it didn’t seem like Mokou could be fazed by much of anything, either.

The sound of creaking floorboards turned Heismay’s attention to the stairs, where Sandalphon was descending at last. She was fully clothed in her formal attire and parka, seemingly ready for the road ahead, but her movements were a little slower and stiffer than the eugief had come to expect, as if bothered by minor rheumatoid arthritis worsened by the cold conditions. Maybe she’d been too shy to share the Seekers’ fire downstairs, like him? He’d briefly considered commenting about the archangel’s tardiness when she finally arrived, but out of sympathy he decided not to risk it. “Good morning.” He acknowledged her with a curt nod of his head. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough.” Sandalphon’s face was almost imperceptibly tighter than usual, and her eyes narrower, even if the shape of her pupils betrayed nothing. “I see everyone is more or less ready for travel. Despite the darkness outside, it is currently eight minutes to seven o’clock AM. Let us depart on the hour.”

A few minutes later, Sandalphon stepped out through the lodge’s back door into the cold, dark morning, and shivered despite her warm parka. Plenty of fresh snow had fallen during the night, forming drifts against the house, bushes, and trees. It had erased the trail left stagecoach’s heavy wheels, but also blanketed the vehicle’s roof with snow, which Heismay and Roxas were in the process of brushing off, careful not to touch the lightning rod. All in all, the stagecoach seemed to be in good condition. Even the ratshaker rat was still there in its hanging cage, forgotten by everyone but still alive and kicking, much to the team’s collective chagrin.

There was also a hellpod in the wreckage of a tree a quarter-mile away, loaded up with two dozen pal spheres manufactured aboard the Avenger at Edward’s request during the night. Compared to more sophisticated pal spheres, these basic ones lacked capture power, but what they lacked in quality they (sort of) made up for in quantity. Attached to the storage container was a handwritten note informing Edward that better spheres could probably be made if metal ingots and cement were procured and delivered alongside more paldium.

As Edward hitched the Shieldrix, Sandalphon climbed into the stagecoach’s rear door, then crossed the interior to inspect the vegetubes at the front. Thanks to the advanced cultivation apparati and a steady supply of power from the lightning rod, the seeds the Seekers planted before leaving Krat Zoo had already sprouted. They were growing unnaturally fast, but it would still be a while longer before the mistletoe or carrots were ready for use. That did beg the question…if mistletoe was Baldur’s weakness, how exactly could that be exploited? By stabbing him with the sprigs? It sounded a little barbaric, but try as she might, Sandalphon could not envision a better method of application, only delivery.

The Seekers (or rather, the majority of them) had a more pressing issue right now. Since the stewpot had filled itself during the expedition’s visits to both Krat Zoo and Spire 04, it stood to reason that it would have plenty of time to fill itself during the night, but that proved to be a misunderstanding of how the arcane object functioned. When she checked the pot, Sandalphon found no stew at all. That meant that the Seekers who required sustenance would need to rely on the travel rations obtained in Snowdin and berries gathered by Ramattra. Even if Ace had managed to procure a horde of provisions, though, they probably wouldn’t last given the additions to the party, let alone his and Ganondorf’s prodigious appetites. Plus, these rations -which took the form of trail mix, granola bars, life raft rations, and spicy pickled jerky- couldn’t be all that filling, either.

Sandalphon raised a hand to her ear and summoned her communication sigil. “As we venture onwards today, let’s be sure to keep an eye out for food sources. It may be necessary to hunt for supplies.” She felt the stagecoach shake as Edward climbed onto the front, ready to drive the Shieldrix, then glanced at the other Seekers who’d entered the stagecoach. “Is everybody ready? If so, let us begin. Today’s mission: reach Moon Mountain, and demonstrate that we are worthy of Baldur’s attention.”

Before long, the stagecoach was moving again, leaving the mysterious lodge abandoned in the deathly quiet pine forest once more. In fact, it was even more abandoned now than it had seemed last night, for the little white dog had seen fit to join the Seekers on their voyage. She seemed more happy and calm overall, yipping for attention less frequently now that she trusted some of the heroes to pet and look out for her. While Sandalphon knew that her adoption meant yet another mouth to feed, she didn’t have the heart to throw the little thing out. It would be up to whoever liked her the most to give her a name. Now that Sandalphon thought of it, the stagecoach still didn’t have a name, either. Was that something people typically did? She knew that captains usually named their ships, as with the Avenger, but it wasn’t like DespoRHado’s higher-ups named the PMC’s various vehicles. Oh, well.

The expeditioners continued through the woods. It was only a little less dark and quiet than it had been the night before. Here and there Heismay, perched atop the stagecoach as always, could see hints of life. Through the trees he occasionally spotted snowy owls, shaggy ovis, and even giant woolly spiders, though all shied away from the stagecoach’s approach. Everyone kept alert for any sign of danger, but as the minutes dragged on the team’s lucky streak continued. No monsters leaped out to try and tear out their throats, and as menacing as they were, the shadows kept their distance.

Eventually, the quiet old woods thinned somewhat, and the Midnight Walk led the Seekers to an old village. Long since gutted by fire, the ruined settlement had buildings warped like soggy cardboard that leaned at perilous angles, and even the surrounding conifers seemed to bow toward the immense, metal furnace that stood, cold and dead, at the town’s center. Nowadays, the primary inhabitants of the town seemed to be rabbits with strange antennae and vacant, haunted eyes. There were a couple squatters scattered around though, and they also happened to be rabbits, albeit much bigger. Whether out and about or cozy in their borrowed homes, the half-dozen bunnymen said not a word, but stared at the Seekers with unblinking red eyes. Only one being in the ruined village seemed capable of speech: the Soulfisher with his distinctive peaked hat, asleep beneath the shelter of a paperback lean-to by an unlit fire. How he managed to reach this place before the Seekers was a mystery.

On the other side of desolate Coalhaven, the Midnight Walk continued along the Polar Pass, an icy riverland that at some point must have served as a race track. Once the stagecoach got headed that way, the boost pads and tricky jumps would ensure that it couldn’t go back. At Sandalphon’s suggestion, Edward slowed the stagecoach down as it navigated through the burnt-out village of broken matchsticks so the Seekers could take stock of the area.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Esaka - the Pools

Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (183/150) Level 11 Big Band (79/110)
Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Zenkichi’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Harry and Kim’s @Eviledd1984 Terry’s @Terry Bogard Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy
Word Count: 1049 / 1234

It wasn’t long after Nadia wished her fellow NMO fighters luck and went on her way that she got distracted again. Of course, it wasn’t like she minded, or that hunting down Beowulf in the Tekken section of the Pools tier was a pressing concern of hers. She’d been thinking about the city’s combative customs and finally came to a conclusion: that Esaka’s tournaments were actually kind of like a festival. Sure, there were plenty of differences, but the excited communal spirit was the same. New Meridian didn’t exactly host any festivals, but the Dagonians of Little Innsmouth had plenty of special occasions that they traditionally celebrated throughout the year, the dragonfish boat festival in summer and New Year. Once included in the Fishbone Gang, Nadia had always loved participating in those holidays, especially because she wasn’t a Dagonian herself. The key to having a good time was never following a stricture schedule for enjoyment optimization, but simply going with the flow. Getting lost among the attractions was just part of the fun.

One fight she stopped to check out involved two brunette teens, one in blue (with bug eyes and bunny ears) and one in yellow (who wielded a blunt sword and a sharp knife). There were a few more spectators in attendance than usual, and judging by both their chatter and the pace of the battle itself, the duel was one-to-one and nearing its conclusion. Linne, the girl in the yellow hoodie, fought with astonishing speed and excellent combat instincts. Nadia considered herself fast, but this kid seemed swift enough -especially in short bursts- to leave her in the dust. In the few moments she stopped moving, Nadia could glimpse her expression: a blank, deadpan stare, as if everything she did and experienced was just par for the course. In contrast, her opponent Arina fought empty-handed, armed only with an irrepressible spirit and never-so-die attitude. Her primary power appeared to be the ability to shoot out pink hearts and energy stars, though since Linne could run circles around her, Arina’s projectiles showed up mostly as combo extenders. It was a classic game of cat-and-mouse, with Arina trying to pin Linne down and combo her before the dual-blader put her down with a death of a thousand cuts.

Despite the very different power sets, the match was closer than it looked, and fairly exciting. Nadia didn’t intend to play favorites, but she couldn’t help but root for her fellow feral (or at least, feral-adjacent) who happened to be decked out in her favorite color. She supported Arina silently, of course, as she didn’t want to throw either fighter off her game. The off-duty fighters and yokai that surrounded the metal construction platform where the two fought were of like mind, watching closely as the bout intensified. The few lucky enough to snag benches in the neighboring rest areas were practically on the edge of their seats, while yokai like the mustached, helmeted Castelius and bearded, wispy Iloo naturally just floated. Nobody was more intent on the results, though, than the blonde boy with an impressive red sword standing a few feet to the right of the railing Nadia now leaned on. “C’mon, Linne,” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched. “C’mon…!”

After a couple more quick exchanges, the match was down to the wire. Though she took an early lead, Arina had fallen prey to three mixups in a row and was on her last legs, with Linne coming back from a huge life deficit and only another stray hit or two from winning. The reversal of fortune had left Arina hopelessly overwhelmed, unable to grasp the victory already slipping through her fingers. With her mental in such a state, Linne probably didn’t even need to get fancy. Nadia held her breath as the dual-blader blitzed forward, somersaulted into the air over her target, then airdashed backward for a final mixup. At that moment, though, Arina surrounded herself in intense flames, then shot straight upward in a blazing punch. It powered through Linne’s attack and depleted the last third of her health in one explosive burst that left the girl face-down on the corrugated metal.

The Heavenly Principles quickly declared the victor. ROUND THREE: ARINA WINS!

A few of the spectators cheered, Nadia among them, though more gaped in surprise or winced in frustration. Hyde clapped a hand to his head, dismayed, then gathered himself to leap toward the stage and check on Linne. Not sure what to make of the crowd’s reaction, Nadia waved up at the nearby yokai. “Hey there! This fight a big deal or somethin’?”

As the Castelius floated off in a huff, his mustache quivering in anger, the Iloo drifted down toward her, looking mighty pleased. ”Hoo-ee! I’ll say!” he told her, his voice wizened with age but still full of joy. ”This is a pretty big upset! That Linne girl ain’t super famous, but she’s better-known than Arina, and she was the favorite to win for sure. Made myself a pretty penny off the doubters back there, heehee!”

Nadia crossed her arms, grinning. “Sounds like I oughta be placin’ some bets myself. You got any money on Mortal Kombat?”

The Iloo rolled his eyes. ”A little, just to keep things interestin’, but Mortal Kombat’s gotten pretty stale, li’l miss! If you ain’t bettin’ Scorpion or Sub-zero, it just ain’t worth your time, and Sub-zero ain’t even competitin’ this go-round!”

“Lemme give ya a little purr-sonal advice, then. Just hear meowt~” Nadia leaned forward, one hand by her mouth conspiratorially, and the Iloo eagerly floated closer. “You better put some money on this cute catgirl by the name of Ms Fortune, ‘cause her star’s about to rise! If anyone can beat Shao, she Kahn!”

The yokai chuckled. “Hehe, maybe I will!”

Nadia waved him goodbye, checked on the arena to make sure Hyde had Linne taken care of, then continued on her merry way.

---

ROUND ONE: FIGHT!

Rather than take the offensive right out of the gate, Band stepped backward to put a little extra distance between himself and the freakish burly tiger known as Rhajang. Unless this creature was a lot more sentient than it looked, with a keen mind hidden behind that stripy exterior, the detective expected nothing but pure aggression. And he was right to be cautious; as soon as the match began, the beast reared up to raise its forepaws as if putting up its dukes. No sooner was the tiger up (and somehow balancing) on its hind legs than it dashed forward to scrape him with savage claws like fistfuls of curved, four-inch knives. Rhajang dished out cruel slashes at a ferocious rate, the power of its bulging biceps behind every blow.

With such raw strength and speed, it was easy to see how Rhajang mauled his way through the first round. The tiger’s ferocious assault could easily make mincemeat out of an ordinary human in a dozen grievous attacks, but Band was made of sterner stuff. He hunkered down and blocked with the help of a steel music stand, the metal frame unfolding in front of him for an extra layer of protection. Rhajang struck his guard again and again, crawling forward just a step between each swipe to counteract the natural pushback and keep the pressure on.

Though each slash did appreciable chip damage, Band quickly began to see a pattern. For all its primal power, the musclebound beast lacked variety, attacking with only a left or right claw slash. It sure didn’t seem inclined to throw him. Band went for a pushblock, thrusting his music stand forward like a big palm to shove the tiger back in the middle of the attack. It reacted with something new: it stretched upward, then fell forward in a double claw slash aimed at his shins. Band intercepted the low blow, but did not feel confident in an interrupt at this distance, so Rhajang quickly crawled up to continue its onslaught of slashes. As clawmarks began to appear across his trench coat, Band clicked his tongue. If this animal wasn’t going to respect him, he would have to teach it to.

“Hey, listen here!” Huge tambourine halves arced outward from his body as he snapped up Rhajang in his reversal. “Beat…Extend!” Band shook the jingles to rattle the tiger’s brain and body with Sound Stun, leaving it to fall limply as he hopped into the air. “Shake, shake!” He popped open one leg to grind his opponent’s ugly mug with Jelly Roll. From there, he followed up with a giant clarinet spike, which he then twisted to both lift his target higher and floated himself slightly upward. “Swing it!” That set Rhajang up for a megaton drop kick, which Band canceled into a Blockbuster for the grand finale.

“You’re gonna get BEAT!” Still aloft, the detective deployed a set of timpani drums from his chest, then opened up his six sidecaps to extend metal arms tipped with drumsticks the size of morning stars. With each percussive impact, a blast of sound energy both juggled Rhajang and lifted Band higher in a sensational drum solo meant to leave the beat senseless. Spectators and off-duty fighters within a couple hundred feet in every direction turned their eyes toward the noisy spectacle, and though many looked away again just as quickly, some kept their eyes on the unusual duel as both Band and Rhajang dropped back down to the wooden raft with a loud clatter.

Guess cats don’t always land on their feet, Band mused. The tiger hit the deck hard, but wasted no time getting up. That combo had been a good start, but now he was flat broke on Dramatic Tension and would need to fight the old-fashioned way. This time, the detective threw himself forward with Brass Knuckle, guessing that a wild beast wouldn’t know how to handle his sliding punch’s armor. He did not expect Rhajang to crouch down and low-profile the move completely. “Huh!” With a snarl it leaped up, burying its claws in his upper chest. Its fangs flashed as it went for the jugular, only to close on the left-hand tube of Band’s respirator. Operating on instinct, it planted its rear legs against Band’s torso and then kicked off, ripping open part of Band’s chest along with his respirator as it sprang away.

The detective stumbled for a moment as air vented from the torn-out apparatus against his face, his expression tight. “Applesauce,” he hissed through gritted teeth. The damage to his respirator would not only make breathing more difficult, but also be a distraction that seriously impacted his focus, and Rhajang was already coming at him again. This time the beast leaped at him in a frightening jump, and Band, unable to use Beat Extend in time, had to settle for blocking. He tried to stop Rhajang’s assault before it could get started with a sudden blurt from his bike horn, but lost out and took a full-force claw slash. “Hng!” B♭ experimental oil mixture dripped from the deep grooves–Rhajang must have hit a circulatory tube.

In a lucky turn, though, the tiger seemed completely unable to combo, so its follow-up got blocked. It took another try and another painful blow for the detective to fully internalize the timing, but after that he cut the tiger’s savagery short with a double bike horn bleat. That allowed Band to chain into his Pneumatic Slide trombone kick, follow up with Jelly Roll into the first hit of Sweet Clarinet, land, and keep the pain train rolling with the same string of harmful instruments. Rather than loop a third time, he spent his Sound Stun on Beat Extend, allowing the catshaker to smack Rhajang with a double trombone thrust and finish off with a resounding Brass Knuckle.

Wham! The tiger slammed down on the raft again. Though clearly winded, it growled, rose, and charged, not beaten quite yet. Band rolled his eyes, then pounded the stage with Giant Step. The impact from the huge drum pedal launched Rhajang toward him with a confused yowl, only to meet his heavy Brass Knuckle head-on. CLANG! This time, the beast fell flat on its back, half-conscious and unable to continue–for now.

ROUND ONE: BIG BAND WINDS, the golden letters of the Heavenly Principles pronounced.

Band tried to steady both his breathing and his pounding heart, still struggling with his respirator. Despite the damage he’d sustained, he felt pretty good about this match. Rhajang was fast and strong, sure, but it had no real fighting skill or mental ability. As long as he kept calm and hung in there, Band felt confident that he could win this. He considered taunting the big cat as it shook its head and got up, but he didn’t have any breath to spare, and he knew that his words would be lost on it. More than anything, he couldn’t help but wonder: who registered some random tiger in this tournament, anyway?

Frozen Highlands - Winter Lodge

Lvl 9 Sandalphon (57/90) Level 6 Heismay (56/60)
Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Ace Cadet’s @Yankee Roxas & Ganondorf’s @Double, Ramattra and Tenna’s @XoXKieroBombXoX Mokou’s @Goggy
Word Count: 1591 / 497

Nameless Stagecoach
𖥞: 6/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | ◆◆◆◆ | Equipment: Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/(None) | Companion: Ratshaker Rat

Once the matter of the strange dog was sorted out and her teammates all busied themselves settling in, Sandalphon made her way back toward the upstairs bathroom, a little bemused. She couldn’t help but be amazed that some Seekers still had enough energy for Tenna-sponsored minigames after such a long, grueling day of travel and combat. The archangel herself was on her last legs but oddly hesitant to bed down for the night. Despite her fatigue, a reluctant uneasiness gnawed at her, a tense ache of both body and mind. That discomfort told her that even if she tried to rest, she wouldn’t be able to find peace. Not yet, at least. Knowing what she had to do didn’t make setting off on that path any easier, especially since there would be no going back.

In light of this inner turmoil, Sandalphon chose to do something rather out of character for her: treat herself. She didn’t plan to lay claim to any of the bedrooms, and in fact preferred to use one of the expedition sleeping bags, but ever since a rivulet of warm water revealed that the upstairs bath seemed operational, part of her had wanted to give it a try. Normally, she prioritized others over herself to the extent that even the possibility of someone else wanting to make use of a luxury would convince her to spurn it. Tonight, though, a little luxury sounded like a very good idea.

She turned on the faucet, locked the door, and then set about lighting candles around the room, already somewhat soothed by the sound of running water. Even if her skillset involved more ice magic than ever nowadays, she wasn’t any more fond of the cold. Her element was ultimately still water, and nothing healed or sustained life quite like it. After a few minutes, the candlelit bath was ready. Sandalphon switched off the flow, disrobed, and slowly immersed herself in the water. Immediately, her pupils became carets. The delightful warmth soaked into her weary bones, and she drank it in, like a bearded dragon beneath a heat lamp. At the same time, the combined light of her halo and the candle flames filled the bathroom with a hospitable atmosphere, allowing the archangel to sink up to her chin and finally start to relax.

Though she heard intermittent noises from her teammates outside, scattered throughout the lodge, Sandalphon enjoyed the serene silence. The snowy pine forest outside had been breathtakingly quiet, but with pitch-black shadows and unknown threats in every direction it had been anything but peaceful. In this secure room, this meditative moment, she had the solitude to confront her thoughts and misgivings.

With her physical form at peace, her mind could wander, far beyond the Midnight Walk or the Frozen Highlands. She could remember the long hours of quiet, concentrated study in the offices and libraries of the Lateran Church, and beyond that, the immaculate cathedral of the Illian church in the city of Grams. Although her conversation with Edward earlier about the World of Light and the Seekers’ campaign crossed her mind, she focused instead on a different subject in conjunction with the sordid task ahead of her. She found it unusually difficult to process her thoughts on the matter; maybe voicing them aloud to someone else would help her scattered musings coalesce. But who could she turn to? Right now, she couldn’t afford to divulge her plans to anyone, lest they try to stop her, or inform someone who would.

As she mulled it over, an idea occurred to her. Aboard the orbital elevator, she hadn’t actually recorded her awe-inspiring ascent through the atmosphere through the use of any software. She wasn’t a computer, after all. She had simply bookmarked the memory in her mental database for future retrieval, since her screens could visualize her mental data for others to see. Since she could crystallize visual memories in such a manner, it should be no trouble to do the same for auditory ones. With that in mind, Sandalphon decided to create an audio log. The archangel figured that she could make a number of them over the course of her experiment, so for now, she would start in the abstract. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and began.

“Sandalphon experimental log zero-zero-one. In the years that I worked for the Lateran Church in Piltover, Midgar’s sector one plate, my duties were largely clerical. I could and did administer to the sick and injured with my healing miracles, but as the Angel of Information, I possessed rare talents that opened the doors to vast gulfs of creative and historical data, which I now know stem from countless worlds. Both at work and in my leisure time, a single subject occupied most of my attention: theology.”

“For reference, in the world I hail from, the primary form of organized religion is the Illian Church. The principal figure of the Illian Church is, of course, the goddess Illia. I myself use phrases such as ‘thank Illia’ and ‘praise Illia’ in the same manner that one might say ‘thank god’ and ‘praise god’, but…objectively speaking, Ilia isn’t much of a god.”

“For the record, I will bypass the notion of ‘blasphemy’ entirely for the sake of relaying my findings. The fact of the matter is, Ilia is not a creator deity. In the World of Light, I have read many accounts of other worlds’ gods to whom the creation of lands and peoples, or even entire worlds, is ascribed. The major deed ascribed to Ilia is forging the very first pact with a dragon, that being the holyworm, Elysium. For bringing the world out of an age of darkness and creating the human-dragon coexistence that defines the modern era, she became revered and eventually deified. It is not implausible that Ilia, prior to this act, was an ordinary human.”

Sandalphon paused. She thought of the woman named Ilia she met that day in Grundachdorf, along with the fairy who seemed to be the spitting image of the goddess’s iconography. In the end, though, it was impossible to draw any conclusions from that encounter. Even if it did get her thinking. “Of course, I myself am a dragon, less powerful than but still of a kind with Elysium. For some reason, I am unable to access memories prior to a certain point in my history. I have no memories of my own birth, or creation. Yet, I have heard whispers of primordial figures in my world’s history, to whom creator status is vaguely ascribed: the Progenitor, and the Origin. ”

“This is why I posit that Ilia is no creator deity.” The archangel pursed her lips. “Even if she was, though, it makes no difference to this me. In this world, I am a product of Galeem. That does not mean Galeem is my god, or even a god. The act of creation by itself does not imply deific status. In my studies, I have seen countless mentions of ‘creator’ gods that faded away or died, even killed by mortals, either in their original stories or in the World of Light itself. Primitivus, Sabboath, Demiurge, Ena, Jubileus, Chakravartin, Arceus…Galeem’s fate will be no different. Any being that can die or be killed, or was created by another, is no true god. Logically, then, that applies to any so-called god incarnated in the World of Light as well.”

Sandalphon stared into the flickering flame of a candle. “So, then. As I stand at the edge of a dark and stormy sea, with no far shore visible at the end of the painful path before me, with no vessel to sail upon but guesswork and hope…to whom shall I pray for deliverance?”

“Not Ilia, who neither created us nor sustains us, and has never intervened on our behalf. Not Galeem, which saw the beauty of countless worlds and molded crude playthings in their image. Not the dead or narrow gods of other worlds, who became Galeem’s subjects? And although I have yet to confirm their presence in the World of Light, what reason do I have to believe that the Progenitor or Origin are any better than the gods of other worlds?”

Slowly, Sandalphon breathed in and out. “Perhaps even Galeem, enslaver of countless gods, is merely the scribbled brainchild of another being, on an even higher plane of reality. And so on, and so forth. In the end, I can only place my hopes -my fate- in the hands of the hypothetical ‘supreme creator’. An ultimate source, from whom all the other countless layers of creation flow. The God of the totality, capital G, whom I may never in my wildest dreams be able to meet or know, however much I long to…” Her eyes settled on the bulging sack she set down by the door earlier, as faint bluish light eked through the mesh. “I pray that you, God, can hear me, whoever and wherever you might be. That You are a god of love and mercy, who will save this foolish and desperate angel at the end of my lonesome path.” A few seconds passed by as Sandalphon composed herself. “...End log.”

A few minutes later, Sandalphon was out of the bath and dressed for bed. She carried her sleeping bag and her sack to a secluded corner of the lodge where she wouldn’t be disturbed, put aside her fear, and laid herself to rest.

---

Though he briefly checked a handful of the guest rooms that the winter lodge had to offer, Heismay decided not to claim them. No Eugief could enjoy a good night’s sleep in a bed made for another tribe, after all. In the course of his solitary exploration, though, he found a smaller room tucked away at one corner of one of the larger bedrooms, separated by a set of narrow double doors with a number of diagonal slats in place of a window. When he pulled them open, Heismay discovered a small chamber with a handful of garments on wire hangars, mostly winter gear like scarves and jackets, although nothing of a quality that anyone would miss. There were also a couple unremarkable spare bedsheets folded neatly on the shelves. What interested him most, though, was the bar from which the clothes dangled. Now that would suit his purposes perfectly.

Heismay worked quickly to adapt the dark, cramped space to his needs. After shutting himself inside, he spread out and arranged the fabric to lie against the walls and window to help deaden the ambient sound. With such good ears, he could still hear people talking rooms away, and even the sounds given off by Ramattra’s woodwork and Edward’s gunfire outside. If anyone in the lodge snored tonight, Heismay would probably hear it, unless he managed to set up enough sound insulation to obtain some peace and quiet.

By the time he was happy with the layout of his closet, the old hermit was more than ready to go to sleep for the night. He felt like he could pass out any second now. Before he could retire, though, there was something he needed to do, and it wasn’t just slipping off his greaves. Kneeling on the carpeted floor of the closet, Heismay removed his amulet and set it down in front of him. From his pack he removed a bundle of cloth, from which he unwrapped an old ceramic bottle and little saucer.

“Another day draws to an end at last,” the former knight murmured as he poured a clear liquid into the shallow cup, his voice low. “The Midnight Walk is a treacherous path, and we seem to find trouble at every turn. I am fortunate indeed to have found such capable allies.” He stared off into the darkness for a moment, then took a sip of his drink. “This world is so much broader than the Euchronia I know. Tis no paradise, to be certain, but…being free from the yoke of prejudice is a true blessing.” He closed his eyes, bowing his head. “I wish you were here to see it for yourself.”

Sitting in silence, Heismay finished his drink, then put the tableware away. He reached up, took hold of the bar, and inverted himself in order to hang by his clawed feet. After folding his wings around his body, Heismay took a long, deep breath, then drifted off to sleep.

An Idiot's Dungeon Union

By the time Zogi and his miscellaneous minions returned to the dungeon, Schnupfen had been sweeping for a while. His improvised broom did not work particularly well, but it kept the experience challenging enough that he wasn't too bored. Dust and debris alike gradually accumulated into small mounds that he then deposited into the questionably bottomless pit. As he tidied up, Schnupfen was pleased to have Kleine's help, albeit a little envious of her proper broom. Between the two of them, they could make pretty good progress on turning the despicable dungeon into a spick-and-span dungeon. Many hands made for light work, after all, and Schnupfen could manifest as many hands as he needed.

The shadow happened to be in a hallway near the entrance when the first few underlings trooped in. He considered requesting that they wipe their muddy feet, lest the keepers' subterranean realm be unnecessarily befouled by the outside world's grime, but it wasn't like they had a doormat or anything. It did occur to him, though, that the mooks could unknowingly disturb the dungeon in another way. As several manifested eyes went wide, he hurriedly floated over to get the newcomers attention. "Wait, wait, just one moment! I installed a number of traps while you were away. Mind the pitfall by the treasure chest, and take care not to trigger the pressure plates for the arrows or boulders overhead! We don't have any ammunition to spare." He blinked a couple times, his randomly-arranged eyes out of sync. "Or subordinates, for that matter. We need each and every one of you!" Schnupfen made a swooping motion with his fist that he hoped the peons would find encouraging.

He left them to do their own thing and resumed sweeping, idly listening to the others go about their business in the background as he continued to clean the floors. Somehow, the presence of more monsters made janitorial duty feel more valuable, as if he were not just maintaining a deathtrap, but creating an underground home for the keepers and their flunkies. The shadow's quiet, focused drudgery was not to last, however. In the middle of his task, just as he prepared to dump another load of dusty gravel into the pit, a dreadful sensation stopped him in his tracks. "HRRK!" His broom clattered to the floor a dozen eyes bulged outward, their collapse drastically accelerated, as Schnupfen seized his chest with a clawed arm. Being neurotic and paranoid, Schnupfun always possessed a high base level of anxiety about adventurer incursions on the dungeons, which kept him at least a little fidgety and fretful at all times. Now, though, that paranoia had suddenly swelled into a crushing, strangulating vision of doom. It struck him like something between a panic attack a heart attack, and its terrible weight left him paralyzed, petrified with fear as he sank to the floor.

"They're coming," he prognosticated between gasps. "They're coming! We...we have to...have to...we..." Unable to keep himself together, Schnupfen melted into the shadows, his consciousness spread thin enough throughout the dungeon's darkness that the terrible feeling slowly began to lose its sting. All throughout the dungeon, the shadows seemed to deepen and spread, wild eyes opening amidst the pitch to dart around as shaky, labored breaths could faintly be heard.

World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Videogame Crossover)

Esaka - the Pools

Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (181/150) Level 11 Big Band (77/110)
Amaterasu’s @DracoLunaris Roland’s @Archmage MC Zenkichi’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Pit’s @Yankee Sakura & Juri’s @Zoey Boey Captain Falcon’s @Double Harry and Kim’s @Eviledd1984 Terry’s @Terry Bogard Yayama’s @Chevaleresse Grima’s @Goggy
Word Count: 2293 / 845

Still full of excitement and riding the high from her clash against the cyborgs, Nadia led the much less expressive Robo-fortune away from the arena at the tier’s edge and to a nearby rest area. In addition to the typically free-standing platforms, rafts, and islands where the competitors fought their qualifying matches, the Pools boasted many smaller structures that served as the hubs connecting the network of stone bridges and wharf-like wooden walkways which pedestrians used to traverse the tier. These ran the gamut between purely decorative, with burbling central fountains and picturesque flowerboxes, and purely functional, with such amenities as food carts, drinking fountains, trash cans, and restrooms. A few were dedicated observation decks for viewing the fights below, some surprisingly tall. Pretty much all had benches for the duelists to sit and rest on between their bouts, though, and most also featured a gilded bulletin board to provide up-to-date information about the ongoing tournaments–fighters need only ask, and in a shimmer of golden light the board would shift to display whichever tournament bracket they wanted to see.

The nearest rest area for Nadia and Robo happened to be a simple stone cylinder at a four-way crossroads between bridges, with different arenas in the other quadrants. One of the other matches had concluded before the catgirls’, evidently a quick and easy stomp for the victors, but battles still raged on the other two, and Nadia couldn’t help but pause and look over on her way to figure out her next match.

The first fight to catch Nadia’s eye was a slugfest between two strange beings: a bipedal green ant with an armored exosuit, supported by a and a man with teal skin, blue pants, and silver hair. While the latter commanded ice powers, which he unleashed in the form of frigid boomerangs, the insectoid held him off with an extremely defensive fighting style. The ice man (Freon, according to the nearby bulletin board) preferred to keep a distance and chuck projectiles, but after the ant (Cyclic) established an early life lead with a snappy combo, Freon needed a lot more than the chip damage from his ice-a-rangs to retake the lead. With no good options to open his opponent up, he had to take risks to try and freeze Cyclic for a combo, which led to mistakes, taking stray hits, and falling even further behind as desperation mounted. Nadia figured Cyclic would probably take the win, but it wasn’t all that exciting to watch, so the cat burglar looked away.

Meanwhile, the other duel involved a maroon-clad, sai-wielding assassin lady, supported by an elegant princess in blue, armed with bladed fans. Their main opponent was another blue person, this one striped, redheaded, and possessed not just of a gleaming twinblade, but a minimalistic purple fashion sense. In her corner was a pink warrior woman with a sword, a shield, and four-horned helmet. They looked fierce, but unfortunately for the two barbarians, the opposition -who did look similar enough to be sisters, now that Nadia thought about it- appeared to be beating the snot out of them. Armed with not just superior skill and training, but practically effortless teamwork, Mileena and Kitana anti-aired every jump-in, punished every whiff, and shut down every attempt to grasp victory from the jaws of defeat. Nadia watched, impressed and just a little intimidated, as the sisters crushed the opposition in their second straight win.

“Whew,” Nadia remarked, tugging at her collar. “Wouldn’t wanna get on that lady’s bad sai-d.” When Robo just looked at her, her deadpan stare questioning, Nadia rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding, ro-bro. We got this.”

When the cat burglar went to consult the tournament bracket, her bravado quickly turned to disbelief. “Huh!?” She scratched her head, squinting at the listing for her next match-up. “One-thirty? My next fight’s in the doggone afternoon!”

Robo-fortune crossed her arms. “Plenty of time to rest and prepare. After multiple combo drops, it seems like you’ll need it.”

Scoffing, Nadia brushed her off with a dismissive wave. “C’mon, I got it eventually. I’ll pre-purr, all right…” She sighed and looked out across the glittering water of the pools, where countless fighters were still fighting, some still on their first pool matches while a lucky few got the chance to proceed to their seconds. Her eyes came to rest on a long, rectangular stone platform a few hundred feet away, where a familiar diminutive dark knight stood waiting for her next opponent. Nadia narrowed her eyes, then nudged Robo-fortune with her elbow. “Hey, we got time to kill. Wanna go see how the others are doin’?”

With a nod, Robo opened her mouth to deploy a small radar dish to ping her surroundings. “Affirmative.” Naturally, the sounds she emitted had no relation to the movement of her mouthparts. After her head spun around to the southeast, her body did an about-face as well. “Annie and Filia registered for World Warrior. We should proceed to that section of the pool.”

The two catgirls got moving, traversing the tier at a leisurely pace. Now that a number of matches had concluded, plenty of fighters were in a similar boat, either loitering around the rest areas, heading to their next matches, or leaving the tier. The number of spectators had probably increased a little since the tournaments commenced, but it was impossible to tell registered fighters from Esakans just here to watch, so Nadia couldn’t say for certain. Bit by bit, she and her Kameo made their way out of the Mortal Kombat portion of the pools and into the much more expansive World Warrior section. There was less of a marked shift between the two groups than she expected; kombatants she expected to be vicious and bloodthirsty, but plenty of street fighters still fought like belligerent hooligans, dashing forward and attacking with reckless abandon in a bid to seize and keep control of their fights’ momentum.

There did seem to be fewer non-human World Warrior competitors, and fewer who used weapons, but there were still plenty of outliers. Not long after she entered the section, she spotted a strange white being in the middle of a brawl. While it could be mistaken for a human in a milk-colored body suit at first glance, the sight of it morphing its body parts into blades, whips, drills, wings, and needles shattered that illusion. Nadia spectated as she walked along a pier parallel to this creature’s stage, captivated. When she reached a two-story observation platform, she made for the bulletin board to find out just what this thing was. Twelve, she read. With an arsenal of bizarre, long-reaching attacks, it seemed to control space well, especially in the air. The more Nadia watched, however, the more obvious Twelve’s disadvantage became. Its opponent, an only slightly less white girl in a fancy dress, could summon weapons as even better pokes, had a slew of defensive techniques, and had some surprisingly long-range grabs as well. Moreover, she had one thing the shapeshifter definitely didn’t: the ability to combo. Even if it did land some pokes, Twelve could never link into a combo. When Artifactor converted a stray hit into yet another combo, her target on its last legs, Nadia shook her head and moved on. “No wonder they call that guy Twelve. He ‘dozen’ do damage!”

Nadia tried not to get too distracted with other fights until she finally spotted Filia’s distinctive raven-black hair. Her fellow NMO representative was embroiled in a heated duel with a tomboyish Japanese teenager in a white karate gi. Thanks to Samson, the parasite that inhabited Filia’s hair, the girl wielded solid movement and unpredictable techniques. As Nadia looked on, she jammed her hair into the ground to create a ringlet drill beneath her foe, then rolled up into a hairball to dodge her jump-in. What her opponent lacked in supernatural abilities, though, she made up for with excellent instincts and sheer aggression. The martial artist pushed forward with alarming boldness, forcing Filia to scramble to keep up. Nadia wondered why Filia seemed to be jumping so much until the tomboy seized her in a command grab and lifted her into the air by her throat. After squeezing, she followed up with a combo that left her foe floored and senseless.

Grimacing, Nadia sucked in air through her teeth. A quick look around confirmed the presence of Annie nearby, also watching Filia’s duel with crossed arms and pursed lips. Nadia trotted over, waving. “Hey! How’s it goin’?”

“Fine for me,” the Girl of the Stars replied, offering a curt wave in return. She then looked back at Filia, who was picking herself up as Samson dusted her off. “Not so good for her. Filia won her first match against some guy named Hakuowlo, but that Makoto girl is dynamite. She’s got skills and power…Filia’s a round down, and I’m worried she’s too shaken to pull the momentum back.” Although the girl couldn’t hear her from this distance, Annie kept her voice down, just in case. As the second round kicked off, Annie turned her one eye toward Nadia. “Won your match?”

“Yep!” The catgirl grinned as she put her hands on her hips. “Fought a couple cyborgs. They kept it interesting, but we cleaned ‘em out. Two rounds straight.” She gave Annie the double finger guns. “How ‘bout you?”

Annie just nodded, impassive. “Yeah. Some tasteless soldier lady.” The two turned their attention back to the match as Filia, already on the back foot again, woke up from a knockdown with Fenris Drive. Not knowing about Filia’s reversal Blockbuster, Makoto got taken by surprise and snapped up in the empowered Updo. Samson formed his fanged face and his host’s hair into the head of a wolf, chomped on Makoto, and then dove to the ground for a final slam. The moment the martial artist regained her feet, though, she grabbed Filia and headbutted her. Filia stumbled back, groaning, with Samson’s eyes wise and his tongue sticking out. Without delay, Makoto fired off a light punch, then light kick, then launched forward in a zooming dash punch. On hit, she planted her foot as her energy seemed to flare. After a strong low punch, she hammered her opponent with a flurry that ended in a dramatic launcher that left Filia’s head ringing from the combination. When she dashed up, Filia tried to cover her retreat with jumping hair attacks until her back was to the water, at which point she launched a desperate Updo. Makoto blocked the reversal, making Nadia wince. No way Filia wasn’t going out of bounds. Instead of taking the easy ring out, though, Makoto decked her foe with a strong chop, and the other girl slumped to the floor, defeated.

Makoto breathed in deep, bowed to her opponent, then turned to go. The next moment Nadia landed on the stage, then jogged over to Filia’s side to crouch down. “Hey, you okay?”

“Ugh…” Filia clamped both hands on top of her scalp, her expression tightening. “I think so. Ow…”

“I’m good, thanks for asking,” Samson growled gruffly, wriggling beneath Filia’s touch.

Nadia looked over, brows furrowed, at Makoto as she left the arena. “She’s cracked or somethin’, I dunno. Guess you’ve had your fill-ia?” She focused on one face at a time, but neither looked amused. “No?”

Samson clicked his tongue as he extended Filia’s hair to pick her up onto her feet. “Can it, kitty cat. Things just got a lot harder for us.”

“Well, we probably weren’t going to win anyway,” the girl admitted, brushing her hair back. “There’s just too many fighters. We mostly wanted to see if we’d improved any thanks to Annie’s training.” As her mentor jumped down and walked over, Filia smiled sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“Nah, you did fine,” Annie assured her. “It’s like Fortune said, Makoto’s just that strong. Bad luck running into someone like that early.” She jabbed a thumb back toward the boardwalk. “We better clear out for the next group.”

The three rejoined Robo-fortune on the walkway as two more World Warrior competitors took Makoto and Filia’s place. As Robo ran a quick scan to make sure Filia would be okay, Nadia looked around. “Where’s Beowulf, by the way?”

“In Tekken,” Annie replied. “Said he wanted to see how he stacked up against King, one of their famous wrestlers. Go say hi if you want, but we’re gonna be up again pretty soon. Never a moment to rest in World Warrior.”

After wishing Filia and Annie luck, Nadia set off again to watch more World Warrior pools matches on her way to the Tekken section of the tier, with Robo at her heels. The feral figured that she and her doppelganger probably ought to spend some time on their teamwork, maybe even get a couple Kameo combos figured out, but for now she was caught up in all the excitement. Locals might not think much of pools, but Nadia felt like a kid in a candy shop, with fascinating fights in every direction almost as far as the eye could see.

---

Following his rather annoying match against Rasputin, Band decided to take a rest. He wasn’t actually gassed yet, as tiresome as that last bout had been, but the detective knew that he’d need to take every breather he could if he wanted to make it through this bracket. Unfortunately, the various benches that populated the Pools’ rest areas wouldn’t be much better at supporting his weighty frame than the chairs in Quick Rise, so he’d have to make do another way.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to find a spot where he could hunker down and park his bell-shaped body. The pools matches in his vicinity were a tempting distraction, but rather than spectate his fellow competitors’ qualifiers, Band tried to tune them out in order to focus. Even if he’d completed only one match so far, he could still learn a thing or two from every exchange of blows. No amount of late-night combo practice against motionless target dummies would make up for experience, after all.

So, what had that last duel taught him? Thanks to his powerful body and huge arsenal of weaponized instruments, he did wield a great deal of strengths, but his weaknesses were just as pronounced. His low mobility and large size made him susceptible to faster, projectile-happy opponents. Keepaway was a well-established art, and Rasputin had been a disciple of that school, if not a master. In fact, he’d been neither particularly fast nor especially skilled with those rather limited spells of his, so even though the detective did ultimately win both rounds, it probably should have been easier.

Then again, idealizing what ‘should be’ was a mental trap that meant one would always fall short, so maybe Band didn’t need to dwell on it. His answers for zoners would be the same as always: Brass Knuckles, Emergency Break, and a forward tech after a careful whiff of 5000 LB Slam. If he could calmly keep a hold on that game plan, it would hopefully serve him well in future matches. It would only get harder from here though. Truth be told, he worked best in a team. If he had someone like Peacock around to cover his weaknesses, he could easily become a nigh-unstoppable juggernaut on the battlefield.

After a couple minutes, Band took a final deep breath and picked himself up in order to consult a bulletin board. It displayed the current World Warrior bracket, and it took the detective only a couple seconds to find his next matchup. He would be facing a competitor by the name of Rhajang on stage S-51 in…twelve minutes. Band’s eyebrows went up as he noticed that last detail. “No rest for the wicked, huh?” He looked around at the expanse of the Pools dedicated to the World Warrior tournament, then shrugged. “Guess we do got a lot of fighters to get through, huh?”

To get there on time he figured he better get going now, since navigating these bridges and walkways could get a little tricky when many weren’t much wider than he was. He set off, his passage through the tier marked by intermittent mutterings. “Scuse me…comin’ through…scuse me…beggin’ your pardon…” Some of the fighters, whether in between matches or here just to watch, didn’t exactly appreciate his disruption, but the Pools were no place to pick fights. Fortunately, most people in his path didn’t really care. One elegant woman with a long purple braid and lavender kimono even shot him a smile as he passed, which really stuck in his mind. Band seldom found himself on the receiving end of any smile, after all, especially from a lady as pretty as her.

Seven minutes later, Band stood on a pier staring dubiously at the unremarkable raft floating in front of him. It didn’t look very sturdy. “This thing gonna hold my weight?” he wondered aloud. Even if it held, whether or not it would survive repeated impacts from different competitors was another matter. Well, if it was still in one piece after all this time, it would probably last a little longer. Plenty of stuff in the World of Light was tougher than it had any right to be. Himself included.

Band double jumped to the stage. It shifted and creaked beneath his weight, but he didn’t break through the planks. If this raft didn’t drift around, it probably had a rope or something that anchored it to the bottom of the pool. At the sound of a growl, he looked up to see a bulky tiger leap down onto the stage. Not a humanoid tiger like some of the anthropomorphic animals he’d seen around the World of Light, but an actual tiger, albeit weirdly proportioned. The big cat mad-dogged him with gleaming red eyes, its killer intent implicit, and Band could only stare at it, shaking his head. “You’re kiddin’ me.” Rhajang curled its lips at him in response, and Band sighed in resignation. “Well…at least it won’t be playin’ keepaway…probably.”

Frozen Highlands - the Midnight Walk

Lvl 9 Sandalphon (54/90) Level 6 Heismay (56/60)
Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Ace Cadet’s @Yankee Roxas & Ganondorf’s @Double, Ramattra and Tenna’s @XoXKieroBombXoX Mokou’s @Goggy
Word Count: 2480

Nameless Stagecoach
𖥞: 6/8 | 🛡️: 6/8 | ◆◆◆◆ | Equipment: Stewpot/Windchime/Lamps/Vegetubes/Lightning Rod/(None) | Companion: Ratshaker Rat

Although the warmth and aroma of the invigorating stew tempted Sandalphon, she did have a couple administrative duties to take care of before she would permit herself to recharge. A number of her fellow Seekers were of like mind as they took inventory. Many itemized the spirits they obtained during their battles against the Naytibas, but a couple seemed interested in fusion, as nasty as those mutated monsters had been. Sandalphon was not eager to see the result of Ramattra’s fusion with the abhorrent Democrawler, but if that was what he wanted, she saw no grounds for interference. He at least stepped outside the stagecoach to come to grips with his new form with plenty of room to spare. The same could not be said for Ganondorf, who climbed through the stagecoach’s rear exit with the proof of his victory over Belial in hand.

Sandalphon had known that the sword-wielding Naytiba would return sooner or later, so with the heroes on the verge of escaping Spire 04, it made sense that Belial reared its ugly head soon after she departed for the space station. This time, it seemed like there had been enough of them to put the monster down. “Well done,” she remarked, her eyes on the Naytiba’s spirit. At the very least, Belial had been more or less humanoid, so if Ganondorf did not mind becoming a cyborg, fusion with it would probably work out. Sandalphon sympathized with him about the healing deficiency inflicted by the Gravemind spirit. If they continued to face stronger and more skilled opponents, the Seekers would continue taking more and more damage; if their bodies and equipment did not improve at a similar rate, it was up to the healers to make up the difference. Being unable to restore Ganondorf did stress her to a surprising degree, so if he could find his own ways to regenerate, that would be a weight off her mind.

She watched as he transformed, filling the stagecoach’s interior with a dazzling prismatic lightshow. When it subsided, the warlord boasted a more technological appearance, his proportions, hairstyle, and left arm most altered by the change. For a moment she thought his left arm completely replaced, but the alloy armor plates seemed to be grafted onto his skin. For now, he still seemed predominantly biological. Maybe he would stay that way, thanks to the Gravemind spirit. Regardless, the being before her projected a more pronounced aura of danger and power than ever. Sandalphon felt distinctly uncomfortable, especially once ghostly purple fire flared up within the stagecoach’s confines. This king of darkness, fused with a handful of strong warriors and now two mutagenic flesh plagues…he might as well be a demon, perhaps even on par with Lilith. When Ganondorf went to help himself to some stew, the archangel gave him plenty of room.

Somewhat put off eating, she turned her attention to the conversation with Edward. As someone who always wanted as much information about the things around her as possible, she listened closely as the strategist filled in the blanks for her about the conflict between androids and humans in Eve’s world. Others came, ate, and went as they talked, and it didn’t take long for their chat to turn into philosophical musing that ultimately didn’t go anywhere. The reminder of her own expiration date, impending but indeterminate, as well as her makeshift plan to defy it, left Sandalphon stiff with a dreadful feeling of doom.

By the time that her mind stopped racing, Ganondorf was gone, so she tentatively ladled herself a bowl of stew as well. Maybe not every angel needed sustenance, but at the end of the day Sandalphon was a dragon, and every dragon needed to eat. Unfortunately, with no ingredients found and added to the stewpot over the course of the team’s trip through Spire 04, the stew was thin and lacking. Even if it did sustain her, it did little to invigorate her. It would probably be necessary to use some of the expedition’s travel rations to keep the bigger, more physical members’ strength up.

Though the warmth of the stagecoach’s interior had been sorely missed during her time in the Raphael Space Center, orbital space station, and especially in that rinky-dink spaceship, Sandalphon did not sit still for long. After about half an hour, she noticed that the stagecoach had gradually slowed down, and decided to stretch her legs.

Once the parka-clad archangel opened the vehicle’s rear door, shivered as the chill wind caught her, and stepped out into the wintry night, she found herself in a pine forest. It was tall, ancient, and very, very quiet. It was snowing, and though the evergreen boughs overhead deflected the worst gusts, plenty of flakes descended to the fluffy white frosting that coated the underbrush and blanketed the forest floor. Thanks to the Highlands’ cloud cover, neither moonlight nor starlight filtered through the trees, so the darkness was absolute. Only the lamps and lightning rods of the stagecoach beat back the gloom. If not for the hooves of the Shieldrix, the creaky rattle of wagon-wheels, and the occasional murmur from the ratshaker rat, the silence would be absolute. It felt much less evil here than in the haunted Reaver Woods that morning, but Sandalphon didn’t exactly feel at peace, either.

She walked after the stagecoach as fast as she could reasonably manage, very determined not to lose the light. A quick look at the wagon’s roof confirmed the presence of Heismay, sitting in his customary spot as a lookout with a light coating of snow on his hooded head and shoulders. Though he sat in a relaxed position, the eugief certainly wasn’t asleep. His big ruby-red eyes scanned the darkness between the rows of gnarled, knotted trunks on either side, alert for any sign of danger. Sandalphon assumed that he must be as tired and hungry as the rest of the team, but it seemed like Heismay would stray right where he was until the Seekers found somewhere to camp for the night. She wondered just how long the hermit had lived alone, without anyone to watch his back, forced to sleep lightly and jolt awake at the slightest disturbance. Hopefully he could get a good night’s sleep tonight, now that he was among friends.

Eventually, word reached the rest of the team that Ace and Geralt’s two-man scouting party had found something in the midst of the dark forest. It turned out to be a two-story lodge, sitting in neglected silence not far off the beaten path. The hunters reported no signs of life, only layers of dust and that it was just as cold inside as it was outside. Although seemingly abandoned for some time, the house itself and all its furnishings were in remarkably good condition.

With no dangers around that Ace’s scoutflies or Geralt’s superhuman senses could suss out during their search, Sandalphon’s decision was a no-brainer. Virtually anything would be safer and more conducive to a good night’s sleep than tents and sleeping bags out in the snowy woods. Even if the team couldn’t heat up the place, its walls and roof provided some much-needed security against the elements and any potential threats that might stalk their way in the dead of night. “Excellent. Let’s inhabit this lodge for the night,” she told the team before relaying the directions provided by Geralt. Once the stagecoach pulled to a stop at the building’s doorstep, the Seekers could disembark and begin to make the house into a home.

Heismay climbed up the steps to the door warily, pulling his hood off so that his long ears could pick up any sounds that the others might have missed during their perusal, however unlikely that would’ve been. He paused as he peered at the porchlight by the door. “We’ll want to douse that before retiring,” he recommended. “It’s visible from the Midnight Walk. I’m surprised we’re the first to have seen it.”

Once inside, he pattered through the utility room, then entered what appeared to be a kitchen. The counters in here were almost at eye-level for him, but not quite, so he couldn’t quite see atop the granite surfaces. This was no surprise to him of course; out of everywhere in Euchronia, only dedicated Eugief villages were built with his tribe’s diminutive stature in mind. The other Seekers had entered the house by now and were exploring the place. Some stomped up the stairs to scope out the second floor, while others opened all the doors to peer at the rooms inside. There were a couple bathrooms and half a dozen bedrooms, definitely not enough bedrooms for everyone. He wondered who would stake their claim to one, since he certainly didn’t need that much space. If one or both of the hunters really did want a room, he figured they’d probably earned it.

Heismay proceeded into the living room, a rather lavish two-story affair with cushioned couches arranged around a couple sculpture-laden coffee tables. He hopped up onto a loveseat, then sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. Overhead, a large decorative object, made from a number of interlocking metal hoops, dangled from a rope attached to the ceiling. “Tis spacious, and well-furnished,” he observed. “The property of a well-to-do noble house, I should think. Yet…uninhabited, and oddly insecure.” He looked over as Sandalphon stepped into the room. “I’ve heard it said that rich families occasionally purchase additional dwellings, which they inhabit on a seasonal basis. One home for winter, another for summer.”

The archangel nodded. “That could be the case. If we are truly as fortunate as it seems, we should be grateful.” She looked around with narrowed eyes, crossing her arms for warmth. “We should also endeavor to secure it ourselves, and make it warmer in here.” Putting two fingers to her ear, she manifested a sigil in order to contact the team’s strategist. “Edward. How feasible would it be to deploy drones to keep watch over the premises? If not, we’ll need to establish a night watch rotation.”

“I can see about heat,” Heismay volunteered, sliding down from his couch. “Perhaps the owners had a furnace somewhere. If we’re lucky, they kept a stockpile of fuel. If not…well, there’s plenty of wood outside.” Chopping logs sounded brutal after such a long, exhausting day, but the Seekers didn’t have much choice.

Heismay made a beeline for the door that Ace and Geralt entered a minute prior, and descending the steps beyond it brought him to the basement. It was no wine cellar, so unfortunately Ace and Geralt would probably return empty-handed, but it did seem to be the storage space for various practical objects. It was nearly pitch black down here, but like the bats his tribe resembled, Heismay had no trouble seeing in the near-total absence of light. He did not find a furnace, but among the various tools and materials stored in the basement, he did discover both a bag of charcoal and a stack of logs, probably set aside for the exact purpose he wanted them for. “Hm…’tis our lucky day after all.” He scratched his head. “Though, thinking back on it, I suppose we do likely have some coal left over from creating those creatures earlier.” Shrugging, Heismay lifted the bag, then retraced his footsteps. If the coal bag was this heavy, he’d need some help to get those logs to the fireplace.

After returning to the living room, he set the bag down by the fireplace, then paused. He could hear something new: the sound of little footsteps. By now, he knew the pattern of his allies’ footfalls (minus some of Edwards’ new creations and acquaintances) so he felt confident in saying this didn’t belong to any of them. In truth these footfalls, light and barely audible, were much harder to hear than the click-click-click of their accompanying toenails against the floor, and this sound was getting louder. Heismay turned in the direction of the back door through which everyone entered, and after another moment, a little white dog trotted into view.

“...Oh.” Having unwittingly tensed up, Heismay allowed himself to relax, but only just. “When did you slip in, little one? Or were you here all along?” Either way, neither Ace nor Geralt had mentioned any animals, and it was stranger still that such a creature would be alone in an abandoned house or the inhospitable woods outside. The dog padded toward him, wagging her tail, and stopped about a foot away. Thanks to Galeem’s influence, her black eyes gave off a gentle sunset red shimmer as she stared at him expectantly. She let out a soft bark, springing a few inches into the air.

A moment later, Sandalphon appeared at the upstairs banister. She’d been examining the master bathroom, where she’d just determined that the kiddie pool-sized tub was fully operational, when she heard the sound. “What’s this doing here?” she asked, her pupils in the shape of question marks.

Heismay shrugged as the dog yipped again. “Not sure when it got in. Or how it evaded our hunters, for that matter.” When he looked back at the critter, he noticed a disconcerting fact: her eyes were redder than before. She barked, then jumped again, twice in quick succession. “Ah. That’s…not good.”

“Her eyes are glowing,” Sandalphon acknowledged as her pupils became exclamation marks. The dog grew more impatient, barking and whining. “She wants something. Can you calm her down?”

Heismay looked increasingly uneasy himself. “How?”

“Pet her?” Sandalphon ventured. She'd never owned a dog herself, but she knew that most enjoyed physical touch. She thought of that retriever she helped to catch back in Midgar's Quarantine Valley.

“I don’t like dogs…” Heismay scrunched up his nose, but he obliged, reaching out and stiffly patting the dog on her head. He half-expected her to bite him, but instead she gave off a bunch of little hearts, leaning into his hand to be pet more as the glow in her eyes subsided. Relieved, Heismay continued to give her attention, scratching her behind the ears. “How peculiar.”

Sandalphon came down the stairs, keeping an unblinking eye on the little beast. “Although her vital signs are a little erratic, I’m sure we could deal with her if she became aggressive. That said, if there’s no need for violence I would rather try to keep her happy. Perhaps some food would satisfy her.”

Sighing, Heismay looked around to see if anyone else could help. “If she must be doted upon, I’d much rather somebody else do it.”

With that situation defused, everyone could continue settling in for the night. If Blazermate didn’t use her tinderbox to light the coals and logs Heismay found, it’d be easy enough for Mokou to fire them up. Either way, the living room would be heating up before long, its warmth slowly radiating outward to fill the lodge.