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7 mos ago
Current even on bad days, i know an ice cold arizona tea got my back
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8 mos ago
how does one survive without cigarettes and monster
4 likes
10 mos ago
a frog life would be an ideal life to live
11 mos ago
being any age over 20 is like listening to the sonic drowning noise for 60 or so years
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1 yr ago
like this post if you agree

Bio







the hooks that
pull it apart

will set me free

even if
painfully





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Level 8 - EXP 6/80
Level 7 - EXP 8/70
The Midnight Walk
Word Count: 645// +1 EXP






Although the rest of White Team was in unison to go around the track, Ramattra was not exactly thrilled about the idea of abandoning the straightest path available, but made no fuss when the consensus was to go around the dart-brandishing monkeys. The majority rules in this scenario, as well as Ramattra’s lack of immediate information for the upcoming area; he trusted Sandalphon’s best judgment for the scenario. Plus, he was certain there was plenty more to do around the stagecoach while the group made their decision.

The monkeys seemed… keen to stop the bloons from reaching the end of the track, but their stationary manner seemingly restricted their dart-throwing capacity, and ultimately would allow a couple of bloons to leak through their defenses. Not to mention, their forces were lacking in numbers as only a handful of towers stood ready for the onslaught of multicolored bloons floating neatly along the path. Ramattra sighed. ”Such poor tactics would have them defeated in a real battle.”

In the near distance, Tenna, who was travelling alongside Ace and Ganondorf, could finally be seen approaching the winding path. The other two, having successfully escorted the TV-star, would return to their own matters, and (begrudgingly) allow Tenna to travel with White Team to Edinburgh. The Galeem-influenced CRT would watch atop a hill as the handful of monkeys pop-pop-popped the bloons in succession of one after another. This must have been some game that they were playing! A game that involves popping as many threatening-looking balloons as possible! Oh, Tenna just loved playing games, and if his new friends were playing with these monkeys, surely he was invited as well.

Tenna rushed to the foot of the hill joyously to join the monkeys in bloon popping action. With a huge grin on his face, he would attempt to converse with one of the towered primates. ”Say, mind if I borrow some of those GrOoVy darts you have there?” Despite his new friends ignoring the monkey-littered path ahead, the small creature Tenna conversed with seemed to understand that he wanted to help and would need his own darts to do so. The small sworn-enemy-of-the-bloons would hand Tenna a large amount of darts. He got the feeling he should return these once he’s done helping.

Ramattra, who had been waiting for plans to be made, began to grow bored with the idleness the Stagecoach had taken, and opted to wait nearby as he watched the equipped monkeys battle with the conga line of bloons varying in defenses. He noticed the newcomer, however, who had split himself into twelve miniature copies of himself and stationed himself at various strategic points on the snaking path. The monkeys and Tenna worked diligently to pop as many bloons as they could before they escaped the swirly path ahead. Ramattra found it partially amusing that each miniature Tenna had their own small pile of darts to chuck.

Layer by layer, they cleared the swarm of bloons leaking in. It wasn't until specialized bloons began filling in the fields that they began to have trouble, their defenses not properly equipped to pop through the metallic exterior of the Lead Bloons. The Omnic, bored of waiting, opted to help clear the rubber menaces while the rest of the group decided what route to take. At the very least, helping clear some of the hazards ahead could provide an extra pathway. One of the cylinders protruding off the Omnics' arm began pumping his artificial veins with Alchemist Cocktail, Ramattra converted to Omnic Form and began crushing the metal-coated bloons, just to keep himself busy.

If Tenna and Ramattra managed to clear enough bloons in the time that White Team regrouped, they would have a grace period between waves.

Level 7 - EXP 7/70
The Frozen Highlands




Radio Hijinx
Midnight Walk - Endless Woods

Featuring: Tenna, Ganondorf, and the Ace Cadet.
Word Count: 6669 // +7 EXP


After her words of reassurance that none of the group would be afflicted by the infection that ravaged Krat Zoo, Sandaphlon retired to the Stagecoach before they resumed their journey. Resting in the main cabin, she was committed to her regular duties of observation and surveillance for intelligence of the area soon to come on the Midnight Walk. Diligently, her eyes scanned over every surface of her light screens and read every number in deep concentration.

The area ahead was sure to have a new slew of threats, so before the Seekers of White Team made their next march, the idle archangel continued to compile the topography, weather, and landmarks of what to expect. Along with her screens, Sandaphlon was also flipping between different radio channel chatter in an attempt to find a broadcast that might contain useful information. A lot of the wavelengths were dead however, too far from any radio tower to receive a clean signal. There was only one radio station in the surrounding area, and it was the only one that the citizens of Snowdin could listen to as a result, which she had come to discover in her work a couple of hours ago. The issue now, however, was finding that signal again so that she might see what kind of news was being reported.

However, something very odd happened when she finally heard audio from the same broadcast frequency. Rather than relaying any news or playing any tunes from a distant world, an odd distorted-sounding message was all that played on loop. She even tried checking over other wavelengths to make sure this was the only radio station currently active, but only found the odd recording playing over and over, even after looping around empty static; it was the only available message. Regardless of her care for the citizens of Snowdin’s entertainment, the radio station did provide useful information and gossip when it wasn’t playing its music, and not having it available made her work more difficult. She saw it best to have one of the other Seekers run this little errand for her to investigate and return the Stagecoach before it got too far away for the evening.

After asking for volunteers, one of the Seekers who ended up going to check the place out was the Ace Cadet. He wasn't fleet of foot like a few others, but his armor allowed him to easily move through the snow. He was also still in good shape as the morning wore into afternoon, having had an easier time with the last few hostile encounters. Just lucky, he guessed. And though he was interested in how the recently discovered vegetubes worked (especially since Roxas and Ganondorf had apparently found some mistletoe seeds while they were at it), he figured he could learn about them after they were set up, and thus he was glad to go look into the radio situation. It wasn't too far away, apparently (the Seekers' leader wouldn't have suggested investigating if it was completely out of the way), its tower eventually peeking over the pine trees as Ace headed in the direction Sandalphon had indicated the signal was coming from. The area wasn't as thickly forested as the earliest part of the Midnight Walk, so it wasn't long before the hunter spotted what he thought was his destination through the trees.

Heavy footsteps crunched against the snow in the direction that the hunter had come in from. But it was not a Carcass, nor a Puppet. It was the imposing form of Ganondorf, the Gerudo Warlord having elected to follow after the Ace Cadet some minutes after the latter had departed from the stagecoach. Ganondorf had now caught up, having been delayed briefly when he scarfed down a bowl of stew from the pot. Something about the Gravemind’s spirit had greatly increased his appetite. Probably had something to do with regenerating his body’s biomass, he wagered. Thankfully, he suffered little to no damage during the fight against Tom, and that meant he had almost fully recovered from the beating he took from the Elephant Carcass he and Roxas fought in the Hall Of Adventure.

As for why the Gerudo had chosen to follow the monster hunter, that was quite simple really. He’d been wanting to hear a few more details about the members of Moebius that Ace had previously fought against, and about the flame clock he had seen in Edinbourgh. A distraction such as this excursion was as good a time as any to strike up the conversation. ”So this is the source of that… ray-dee-oh that the Archangel listens to?” Ganondorf asked aloud, not looking very impressed by the ruined radio tower.

Similar to the monster hunter (who was just barely familiar with radio, the little experience he had with either limited to the past few weeks in the World of Light), the word ‘radio’ was every bit as foreign to Ganondorf as well. All this time he had just assumed it was some form of magic. But evidently, that was not the case. The warlord grimaced a bit, shrugging off the biting cold by wrapping his heavy cloak more tightly around himself. Nevertheless he picked up his pace until he was finally caught up with the Monster Hunter and grunted a short greeting, then said, ”From little I can gather about this ray-dee-oh thing, it sounds no different than a town crier… only much farther reaching and on a larger scale.”

It was kind of hard not to notice Ganondorf's approach, so the greeting and commentary hadn't caught the hunter by surprise. The red head smiled widely at the warlord's over-annunciation of 'radio.' Maybe two medieval guys weren't the best choices for this particular mission, but on the flip side they might learn a thing or two.

"Yeah, but isn't the thought of that gargwawesome?" Ace replied. If Ganondorf's world still relied on criers, then he was even further behind than Ace, whose home at least had printing presses and newspapers.

Not keen for more casual conversation, Ganondorf glanced sideways at the monster hunter. ”Tell me more about the flame clock you said you saw.” He requested while they walked, ”And the Consul who governed it… L, was it?”

Ace stuffed his gloved hands into his coat's pockets, his weapons having been stored away while they traveled. He didn't know much about Ganondorf, only what he'd seen during the fight in the Dead Zone and the brief team meetings over the last day or so, but he'd picked up that the man was pretty no-nonsense and had more interest in the world's governance than most of the other Seekers - himself included. Ace figured he would be asked about what happened in Edinburgh sooner or later, and he'd already promised to tell all, so when he replied it was with only a little disappointment that they'd jumped right to 'business.'

"She was one of them. The other was N," he said. He tipped his head back slightly, just enough to look at the cloud covered sky as he recalled the encounters with both Consuls. "The clock is in a huge city called Edinburgh Magicapolis, at the top of a tower that's built on a giant bumblepumpkin. Not sure how far it is from here, but believe me you'll know it when you see it."

He went on. "I know that L used it to try and heal herself after Linkle, Albedo and Lucia wore her down. Didn't work since me, Big Band, Mewtwo and Wonder Red made it up there to ambush her. L... she shouldn't be a problem for us anymore."

He didn't sound completely sure, rather the Cadet's tone implied he was hopeful - hopeful that Consul L would uphold her part of the bargain and not endanger her own life or those of the Seekers. With that feeling showing in his voice and on his face, he turned his head to look fully at the gerudo.

"If the Highlands' Consuls are gonna come after us, it's N that we should be on the look out for. Especially because of his power. It was like..." Here Ace trailed off, withdrawing one of his hands to gesture randomly in the air. He moved it back and forth erratically, then stopped completely, then resumed at a slowed, jerking pace, and repeated. "...I don't even know how to describe it! But we couldn't move normally, and we couldn't touch him. It was like he knew what we were going to do before we did it. A real reverse Diablos ex machina."

It was hard to articulate just what N had done to them, as if Ace lacked some context in order to describe it. Perhaps that made it sound less dangerous than he remembered, but he was serious about N being the one to be wary of. He wouldn't be forgetting that battle any time soon, as without the palicos the errant Seekers would have been dead. Hell, after they'd taken the other three if the hunter hadn't had that teleporting bone then he would have been dead.

Ganondorf nodded with a thoughtful hum. ”Sounds like someone capable of glimpsing the future.” He said of Consul N. Such a thing wasn’t too far’fetched. Ganondorf recalled a young man among the ranks of the Smashers who originally stood up to Galeem. He didn’t know the boy too well or even remember his name, but Ganondorf did recall that he too possessed some kind of power of premonition… for all the good it did against Galeem at the time. ”Moebius doesn’t just use the clocks to heal themselves.” The Gerudo explained, ”It also gives them a form of eternal life that lets them live beyond the normal 10 year limit the rest of us are confined to.” He wasn’t sure how up-to-speed the hunter was on all this, so for all Ganondorf knew this could have been information that Ace was already aware of.

He went on, ”And according to S, everyone in a given region is tied to those clocks. The Consuls wage an endless game of war with each other to keep them fueled to maintain themselves. But he also told me that destroying those clocks would theoretically de-story everyone connected to them. Hence my interest in knowing each of their locations. We could de-story large swathes of people from Galeem’s control and cut off Moebius from their main source of eternal life in one blow.”

Besides the last part, it was information that Ace was more or less aware of. He'd had a crash course aboard the Avenger along with the extra group meetings, but a lot of it he honestly wanted to put out of his head if he could. It was a lot, most of it not good, and with any luck they wouldn't have to worry about it too much longer. A couple of more weeks maybe, and the Seekers will have completed their quest. Still, the hunter nodded his head to show he was listening.

"That's a great plan," he said honestly. "It'd make sure we don't get swarmed again like we did in the Metro too. They're pretty damn sturdy though, how do we break them?"

”I asked S about that.” Ganondorf replied, ”And he said the clocks can be damaged by someone who was born outside of the ‘system’. Someone like a Lost Number, potentially. But he also mentioned a power people like us could use that he called ‘Interlink’ to do it as well. He didn’t say what Interlink means, but he did say it requires a great deal of trust between the people using it.”

"Hm." By this time Ace had set his sights back on their current destination, but by no means was he not paying attention. Interlink... had he heard of that before? He wasn't sure. "It's way too dangerous to have one of the Lost Numbers try it, so I guess we'd better figure out this Interlink thing."

A 'great deal' of trust could be anything, though. Ace trusted the other Seekers with a lot of things - could he use this mystery power? Or did it require a team effort? Questions for another time.

As the two got closer to the radio tower, more of the surroundings began to come into his perspective, the large forecast radio tower growing only in size the closer he got. A small opening began to form in the woods, obviously carved out by whoever decided to build a radio station here. The whole perimeter was walled off by a brown-brick barricade topped off by barbed wire, save for a small entrance gate off to the side, where a poorly painted sign was hung over the station’s original namesake, now reading “Mr. (Ant)Tenna’s Marvelous TV Studio”. The gate was metal and latticed, making it impossible to just squeeze through the gate.

The only odd thing was that this was OBVIOUSLY a radio station, and even lifting the poorly made sign revealed a rusted plaque that reads “Galaxy News Radio” with a weathered logo of a radio tower flourished with the letters GNR. Inside the gate, there seemed to be an access booth with a small porthole inside and a pager with three buttons with options “Access”, “Directors Office,” and “EMERGENCY”. The buttons seemed to be in working order. Looking inside the porthole was nearly impossible; only able to see the outline of stockpiled canned goods and a mattress.

After the Seekers traced the outer wall and ended up at the only entrance, Ace gave the gate a tug. It was unsurprisingly stuck, frozen over with ice or actually locked (or possibly both). Ultimately it wouldn't be an obstacle for long; if he couldn't find a sturdy enough pole to vault over the top, it probably wouldn't take much to just break through the hinges. Before that though the hunter glanced at the newly hung sign.

"Must be the guy who took over the signal. Some kind of neopteron man I'd guess?" he said to his companion with a grin. "Because of Ant-tenna?"

With neither of them any more familiar with television it was the sign's message itself that got their attention rather than the swap from radio to TV - and clearly Ace was amused by the pun. His attention then shifted to the small building on the other side of the brick barrier, the only thing in sight on the inside besides the tower itself.

"Aaand that's probably where we'll find him." A well placed strike with the hard pointed edge of his shield cracked the stiff, icy joints of the gate and with a push it fell inward, displacing snow with a poof as it hit the ground. They could head over to the booth now and see who was home.

With the gate now open and the access booth now in open view, Ace and Ganondorf were both free to proceed inside the perimeter. Entering the gate allowed the two to have more visibility inside the area, revealing the actual radio station, which looked very basic in architecture, only being two floors. The main thing that stood out about this building was that nearby, lying out in a pile were large metallic channel letters reading GNR, along with a large metal decal of a radio tower. On the face of the actual radio station, however, now stood LARGER, shinier golden letters now reading TV.

The commotion outside, primarily the destruction of the frozen front gate, seemed to have woken up whoever was inside the access booth, because now an audible rustling could be heard from the nearby porthole. The door that normally would have given employees access to the access booth swung open, and emerging from it was a plain-looking man in a headwrap. He seemed to size up the damage of the gate from where he stood first before speaking to Ganondorf and Ace. “Whoa! You two certainly did a good job on my front gate there! But next time, use the access button, okay, dogs?” The man seemed cheerfully optimistic despite living in what looked to be less than a couple of meters wide. Of course, Three Dog was completely unaware that using a callbox was completely foreign to these two, but it didn’t seem like he was too pressed on the matter.

“I’m assuming y’all are here for Galaxy News, yeah? Best radio station in the Frozen Highlands?” It’s also the ONLY radio station for miles, but the denizens of Snowdin seem to enjoy it enough.” The smile on the man’s face communicated that he was here to help these two, that somehow their goals were aligned. He wanted something from them. “But the thing is here, see… That people are saying Galaxy News isn’t quite what it used to be… Do you get what I’m saying here?”

Given that the stranger was friendly, Ace saw no reason not to return the same energy. He laughed lightly, having the decency to at least look a little awkward about the gate.

"Sorry about that," he started with. "But, yeah, me and the big guy here -I'm Ace, he's Ganondorf- were looking into what's changed with your radio."

Ace clapped Ganondorf on the back good-naturedly as he spoke, then after a brief glance around the area turned back to the stranger. "If you run the Galaxy News... I guess you're dealing with a hostile takeover type of thing going on?"

Ganondorf stood with arms crossed over his muscular chest. Radio. TV. Galaxy News. He didn’t understand what any of that meant. But a hostile takeover? That was something he did understand. ”Let me guess, more Carcasses and Puppets that need to be exterminated?” The warlord said, making what seemed like an obvious guess to him. ”If so, you’re in luck. I happen to be quite effective at doing just that.”

“Whoa whoa, easy there, gentlemen. No hostile takeovers. It’s bad enough that damn cartoon box is still hogging my wavelengths!” Three Dog looked at the second floor of the building, as if there was something of value up there. His attention turned back to Ganondorf and Ace a moment after. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Name’s Three Dog, and yes, I run this gig. Galaxy News is my baby. It’s uh… a bit of an independent pet project to keep myself from going coo-coo.” Snowdin was a fair distance away, the frozen gate, and given the location of the studio plus his modest mode of transportation, it was fair to assume Three Dog didn’t get too much company.

“But… The other day, I want to say about 5 days ago, some eccentric type came around and pressed on my buzzer, saying he needed my tower for a ‘big announcement’.” He tied it with air quotes and all, emphasizing how adamant the visitor was about using Three Dog’s station. “And as soon as I showed him how to play his announcement on the vinyl player and intercom, he had his cronies grab me by the shoulders and throw me out here! Now, I’m not one to travel without a firearm, so I would’ve been more than happy to deal with him myself.” The man pointed to the sliding glass doors, which were now barricaded by a large number of TV screens displaying various programs. “That asshole closed himself in, and I’m not strong enough to get in. Look, I’d prefer if you could get him out of there without breaking any of my equipment, but do what you gotta do. This radio is my passion and without it, well, I might as well be another waster.”

As he followed Three Dog's attention to where the mystery visitor (who he figured must be the same guy who'd hung the new sign over Galaxy News' old one) was holed up, Ace had to wonder how what was described wasn't a hostile take over. Still, he thought he got the gist of what was going on now. Tossing this Ant-tenna out would help Three Dog get his life back, and in turn would apparently help Sandalphon keep tabs on any news floating around the area.

"We can help you out," the Cadet agreed easily. "One way or another you'll get your radio back."

If they could do that with minimal damage to the building and its equipment remained to be seen though. At the very least they might have to break their way through the barricade of screens if Mr. Tenna proved uncooperative.

"You mentioned he had 'cronies’? Do you remember how many?"

Three Dog contemplated the question, trying to recall the number of oddball backups that Tenna had brought with him. “I want to say it was definitely around 20. Look, I don’t care what you do with anybody in there, just get them out! Ahem- Please.” He corrected himself, making sure his enthusiasm didn’t rub off on The Ace Cadet and The Warrior King as rudeness.

Ace at least didn't look offended in the slightest. He offered Three Dog a grin and a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, it's all Ya-cool, we'll get you back in business in no time!" And Ganondorf? He looked the exact opposite of offended, like a warlord in search of a war to fight.

The first step to that being to get inside the station. Now that they'd been given a run down on what had happened and knew to expect a sizeable group, the two Seekers could come up with an action plan. As he was wont to do, The Cadet trudged through the snow right up to the radio station before anything else with the other two trailing after. He peered in through the ground floor windows to see if he could spot anyone. As he did that, he spoke over his shoulder to Ganondorf and Three Dog.

"I'm thinking we've got two options: see if there's a door on the roof or go in through one of these windows. We could break through the front but then we'd end up smashing all the TVs too." Which would be a shame because as the hunter had very recently learned, TVs were amazing devices. Even now his eyes flickered over to the screens now and then to see what they were showing. "It's not like they'll just let us in, right?"

Ace didn't expect that they'd be getting the drop on this band of radio-station-stealing opportunists in the first place, so as if to prove his words he knocked heavily on the entrance doors a couple times.

Upon knocking on the door, one of the security cameras monitoring the area would turn on Ace, Three Dog, and Ganondorf, before the inside of the building burst with a cacophony of saxophone noises and trills, almost as if a burst of conversation were happening with stock sax sounds. Suddenly, a low rumbling would erupt from the ground, the clear cause being from inside the radio station. The rumbling began to move across the floor as a bulldozer-equipped figure began moving the TVs out of the way of the door, the shadowy man piloting it tipping his hat politely with a muffled saxophone noise greeting the duo, as if trying to speak to them. The odd thing is, no matter how many times Three Dog tried knocking, they never let him in.

Finally, the two could see inside the double window doors, the first floor, which looked like it had been a receptionist area, was now filled to the brim with well over 20 Shadow Guys who each had a different hat or article of clothing to signify their role in this establishment; some with construction hats were making repairs to previously damaged/weathered areas and some with painters smocks were very delicately repainting the whole interior a bright beige, red, and gold, were among many others working. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the large golden statue of a man with a TV head, this would have looked like some revitalization project rather than a hostile takeover. If anything, it looked like Tenna was taking better care of the studio! Three Dog was in complete shock, so much work had been done so quickly, his studio was unrecognizable from before!

Before any of the three could get any words out, one of the Shadow Guys, who was wearing a shiny badge with a sun and a cloud on it, would quickly rush out to greet the three, very rapidly shaking their hands as a trill of saxophone buzzed from his mouth to greet each of them. With each handshake, he would plant a very cheaply painted gold “VIP Pass” which looked like the top of a bottlecap, saying VIP on the flat end. As soon as each of the three had acquired their passes, the badged Shadow Guy would begin to usher them in, encouraging them to follow him inside.

The place exploded with colors, music, and eccentric scenery, the floor adorned with a new red carpet that almost felt laid out for the visitors. Three Dog, who had been silent from shock as they followed the lone Shadow Guy, finally spoke, “I swear there were only about twenty of them.” Fighting was definitely off the table now, as any hostile action could result in a swarm of henchmen stampeding the three of them. The trio approached a stanchion labeled “Backstage Access”, which was parallel to another across the room labeled “Audience Seating”. The Shadow Guy would lift the rope for the guests with a bow and another mumble of saxophone noises before leaving. Now, before the three stood a large staircase leading to a rusted metal door, with half of the hallway accompanying it unremodeled. It seems there’s still work to do.

”Twenty or two hundred.” Ganondorf grunted, cracking his neck. ”It makes no difference to me.” He was clearly still confident that he could conquer this place by force if he tried hard enough. But whether he could do it without demolishing half of the facility in the process was another story. So to that end, the Gerudo decided to play ball… for now.

”Seems he wants to talk.” Ganondorf added as they made their way up the stairs. ”So I guess that’s what we’ll do. And rest assured,” he looked toward Three Dog, ”if this goes too poorly, I’m more than able to fight our way back out of here, numbers be damned.”

So far Ace had taken everything in stride, from the surprise welcoming to being guided through the building by the half-featureless men. They all looked pretty chipper, so the hunter had grinned back at all of them even if he couldn't understand what exactly they were trying to say with their musical voices. He fingered the rough edges of the VIP badge that had been pinned to his coat as he climbed to the second floor with the other two.

"He's Ap-serious too," the Cadet tacked on to Ganondorf's words. Preferably it wouldn't come to that though. "But hey, maybe this'll be easier than we thought. So far so good, anyway.

"Maybe the both of you could even work something out, share the building?"
he suggested to Three Dog. It looked like a lot of work had been put into it, so maybe it just hadn't been ready to show off just yet and the new tenant was just really, really strict about that kind of thing.

They could only hope for the best since they had the feeling they were about to meet him as they made it to the second floor's landing.

The closer they got to the door, the more the “impending” feeling that they were about to meet some big shot celebrity, the sign above the door, reading “on air,” was off at the current moment. As they entered the door, a TV-headed man, in fact the same likeness as the gold statue in the lobby, boisterously greeted the “VIPs”. ”Visitors! VISITORS!” He struck a cool pose, pointing to the sky as he exclaimed at his excitement. ”You’re just in time for our BIG show!” It was almost as if when he said the word “Big,” his voice exploded, altered by some TV-sounding static.

The room was nearly unaltered from its original appearance, save for a large red curtain that now separated the recording booth and studio. At the other end of this curtain must be where that “audience” door leads to. Tenna would put his gloved hand to his ear, as if listening for something. ”Shhhhhh… and can you hear THAT? The audience is ABSOLUTELY excited.” The silence was deafening; not a single clap, cheer, or even cough could be heard from the other side of the curtain. Tenna would gesture for the three of them to join him to peek at the curtain to gauge the audience turnout. As the four peered into the large auditorium, a construction feat that would have been impossible in 5 days, not a single living face could be seen, other than smiling Shadow Guys who definitely were employees (symbolized by their TV pins), and an assortment of trashy mundane conglomerates who were the actual only bodies in seats.

This guy was nuts.

"Wow, you got a full house here, huh?" Ace joked of the shadow guys and shoddily put together mannequins.

Ganondorf just dead-stared at the bizarre man and his setup. The Gerudo obviously had no concept for what TV was, but even if he did? He probably still wouldn’t understand what all this was. ”I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” the man said dryly, still trying to maintain some modicum of diplomacy despite the sheer oddity of the situation, ”but this building originally belonged to this man here.”

He gestured to Three Dog standing nearby, ”And he’d like it back.” While Ganondorf wasn’t trying to be overtly threatening, his natural tone and imposing figure made it all-but impossible for him to not sound at least a little threatening. One of the many drawbacks of being the infamous King Of Evil, essentially. Still, if he could diplomacize with Lady Riju in Gerudo Town then how hard could this possibly be?

Ace nodded along with Ganondorf's statement (it was the whole reason they'd come here after all), but he couldn't help but also feel sort of bad for the strange looking man. Sure, maybe he'd gone crazy like Three Dog had worried he might have if the disc jockey didn't have his music, but so far he and the shadows that could only be his underlings seemed genuinely excited to put on... whatever it was they were planning to put on.

The Cadet pulled his head back from the curtain. "So if there's anyway we can get your big show on the road...?" he said, though after a moment he couldn't help but ask, "What kind of show, anyway?"

Tenna seemed to take some sort of favoritism towards Ace, since he was really the only person who seemed to show some genuine curiosity, though Ganondorf’s comments about the rightful owner of the place did not go unnoticed. ”I’m glad you asked my private property destroying compatriot! We’ll have game shows, cowboy programs, pirate movies, infomercials!” He’d clutch Ace and Ganondorf’s shoulders, bringing them into a tight whisper ”We gotta get advertisements from SOMETHING.” He joked with the two as he finally stepped back, hitting dramatic poses as he emphasized his words. “And. That’s. NOT. ALL.-”

But before he could speak more, Three Dog interrupted Tenna, which was probably for the best because it sounded like Tenna was going to go on about “The Show.” “I’m gonna stop you there, man.” His voice was somewhat stern compared to his usual enthusiastic radio host persona. He really wanted Tenna’s attention here because he had something to say. “Show host to show host man, you’re robbing me of my gig here!” Three Dog threw his arms up in frustration with the CRT host. He thought of something on the spot that might sway Tenna to leave his studio. “And now you have a REAL chance here to get an actual audience rather than shit from my supply closet!”

“Look, you’ve done a lot of great work here in my studio here, Mr. Tenna, but you’ve made a whole mess of my gig, and now I’m 5 days behind on reporting local news!” Tenna looked around the room as Three Dog made his point. This was no TV Studio, and the CRT wouldn’t get the audience score he wanted here.

”The Fun-o-meter in this place IS pretty… low,,, Tenna seemed to get emotional slightly. Ganondorf and Three Dog’s words stuck with him; this was not where ANY of the “action” was. It wouldn’t take much more to make the television set mope his way out of the building with its goons.

This whole thing might solve itself sooner than expected, Ace thought. It seemed like all they'd needed to do was get the two opposing media hosts an opportunity to talk - the takeover being not so much malicious as it was eagerness, and misunderstanding. Three Dog could probably sort things out with Tenna himself at this point, but Ace jumped back into the conversation anyway.

"You know, I just saw a movie for the first time yesterday and it was radalos. I'd watch another, and I bet there's a ton more people that wanna see that kind of stuff too! So if you want to put on a show for as many people as possible, you'd be better off in a big city. We were just talking about Edinburgh Magicapolis - that might be the closest one," he mused. He didn't know what a cowboy or an infomercial was, but game shows sounded fun too. He'd have to look into those at some point. "North of here, I'm pretty sure."

It was in fact the same direction the Seekers were traveling on the Midnight Walk in the first place. At this point, Ganondorf was holding his tongue. The bizarre man had clearly taken more of a liking to Ace, so it seemed like the monster hunter was the one who was going to handle the talks for now.

Tenna, who had taken an interest in the implications of a large city north of here, suddenly seemed to perk up. ”You mean… there’s better places I can make my studio?…” The cartoon box thought to himself quietly, considering the pair had travelled here together, maybe there could be a better place to establish his own business. ”Wooooo mama!” He cheered loudly as he waved his wacky hands excitedly in the air. The CRT would walk over to a well-kept vinyl player and remove a disc that said “TV” in large gold font, stopping the ceaseless chatter that Sandaphalon heard a couple of miles from the Studio.

”You have yourself a deal my liege and cadet!” Wait, deal? Does this mean the two were responsible for Tenna now? He took the Gerudo’s hand and shook it very rapidly, following suit with Ace. ”Mr. Radioman, the studio is yours again! Completely refurbished!” Tenna spread his hands out to show the marvel of Three Dog having a clean and bright studio.

The Disk Jockey shrugged, somewhat unbothered. “Sounds good to me, as long as I get my station back”

”And to make up for the trouble, you can keep my hench- I mean, ‘employees’- around to help you!” Again, Three Dog wasn’t too entirely bothered. The Shadow Guys could make for a great maintenance team. ”Besides, they’re technically contracted to you anyways.”

"I didn't mean–" By the time handshakes happened Ace seemed to realize what Tenna intended, and he started to correct the TV-headed man's assumption, but he moved like a whirlwind and was already making moving out plans. Technically the Seekers' work here was done, the radio station was soon to be back with its rightful owner and playing news - it would just mean having to take Tenna along when they returned to the stagecoach. Thankfully, he still didn't seem like a bad guy.

While he spoke with Three Dog, Ace turned to Ganondorf and said in a half-whisper, "This'll be fine, right? I mean we are sort of headed that way..."

Ganondorf exhaled a long breath, rubbing his temples like he could already sense the migraines that were inevitably going to be in his future. He was annoyed, but ultimately grunted a reluctant agreement. ”I don’t even know what ‘TV’ is and even I can already tell how much it apparently rots the mind.” He grumbled, not particularly thrilled about the arrangement but not refusing it outright either.

”Let’s just return to the stagecoach before I change my mind.”

And when Tenna inevitably turned his attention back to them, Ace cleared his throat and thought it best to actually give the flamboyant host a fair warning even if it put them all back at square one. "We are going north, but it will get dangerous if you travel with us. You okay with that?"

”Buddy-” Another friendly clap to Ace’s shoulder. DANGER!! is my middle name! (Next to Ant, of course!)” With that, Three Dog would thank Ganondorf and The Ace Cadet in private for finding a peaceful solution to his issue before they left to return to the Stagecoach with Mr. CRT himself. Being around Tenna, despite not knowing what a TV even is, would fill the duo with some unfamiliar feeling of nostalgia. Tenna smiled as he followed Ganondorf with some pop in his step, ready to begin his adventure on the Midnight Walk. His optimism toward this matter was at least relieving, reassuring Ganondorf and Ace that he wouldn’t become their responsibility. Little did they know, this CRT is actually quite the formidable support… ”Oh yeah! And if we see any of my buddies on the way, just know that danger is THEIR middle names too!” Tenna missed the games he, Kris, Susie, and Ralsei played…

Level 7 - EXP 26/70
Krat Zoo - The Frozen Highlands





Botanical Bash

Krat Zoo - Greenhouse Atrium

Featuring: Ace Cadet, Geralt, Ramattra, Heismay, Sandalphon, Edward
Word Count:6196 // +7 exp






Quickly stepping to the side to give Ace and Ramattra room to maneuver, Geralt transformed into the Molar Boatworks Fixer identity before charging in. As soon as he began to move, though, the strings turned red and the puppet did the same, albeit much faster. It blew across the battlefield in a moment, forcing Geralt to pivot to the side and abandon his attack. “Deal with that thing, I’ll fight her!” He called back to the others, itching for a proper fight. Between the weakling enemies they’d fought on the way here and being simply tossed about and then swallowed by Tom, Geralt was craving a proper fight.

"You got it!" Ace responded, making to brandish the weapon he'd already had prepared. He had expected to run into the mastermind eventually, but to suddenly find that she'd apparently tucked herself away in the far corner of the garden did come as a bit of a surprise. Nevertheless the group was ready for her, and with sword in one hand and shield in the other, Ace set his sights on the enamel coated doll.

As they spoke the strings attached to the Queen’s Arch Puppet turned blue, then tightened, and the next second Markion zipped across the arena toward her puppet’s location. While still airborne, she held out her hands, and in front of each palm a luminous blue orb about half as tall as herself crystallized. “Hah!” She crashed down into the enemy squad, each orb striking the ground like a solid wrecking ball rather than an ethereal spell. After landing she performed a pirouette, and the orbs whirled around her in widening spirals that carved furrows into the floor.

While he considered leaping out to perform an aerial strike once Markiona approached, Heismay remained hidden in the shadows for now. He half-expected those orbs of hers to explode, and didn’t want to go on the offensive until he had a better grasp of the puppeteer’s abilities. As he bided his time, the eugief considered whether to try and sneak attack Markiona herself, or to sever the puppets strings, although he couldn’t yet be sure that they were physical enough to be cut.

With the large-eared swordsman keeping still and unseen, he would also be able to get a better look at how his allies fought now that they weren't dealing with the frantic chaos of keeping ahead in a chase with a massive predator.

The Cadet had chosen to stick with his sword and shield, both because the opportunity to swap had been snatched away by Markiona's quick and violent approach and because he wanted to stick close to the threats while he got his own grasp on his comrade's fighting styles. Heismay he'd already seen use the blade he carried, but he was currently out of sight - and Ace had seen very little of Ramattra besides the last few seconds of robo-zombie clean up back in Snowdin.

Ace had evaded the puppeteer's slam with a roll, back on his feet not a moment later. His eyes tracked the dragging orbs until he could slip through an opening in their spinning, after which he went right for the arche puppet, testing its durability with several hard swings of his sword.

Casting Quen with a curse as Markiona launched herself towards the group, Geralt turned back to rejoin them in battle. Rather than wait for an opportunity to slip between the orbs as they circled, Geralt leapt up and over them, landing within the circle and unleashing a barrage of slashes and punches at Markiona to keep her attention on him and off the others.

Once the Seekers attacked on two fronts, Markiona kept her cool to salvage the situation. She jumped back as she tried to put some space between her and Geralt, her right arm raised as a shield to try and mitigate the worst of the damage. When her puppet didn’t react under Ace’s assault, he found himself with enough time to complete a three-hit combo before the puppet strings turned red. Immediately the puppet perked up and unleashed a full-body roundhouse kick aimed at the monster hunter’s sword arm. The sudden movement after stillness was all that was needed to clue Ace in that something was up, and he pulled his blade back to intercept the kick. When the puppet's reinforced limb connected with the sword it sent a jarring jolt racing down the Cadet's arm, but he held fast to his weapon.

But the archpuppet didn't stick around to follow up, instead it turned and boosted toward Geralt from a four o’clock angle. En route, the puppet strings turned blue again, and Markiona struck back by summoning an orb overhead that she brought down onto Geralt like a dunked basketball. The next moment her puppet went for a fly-by blindside with its mace, not stopping its momentum as it whooshed past. Markiona snapped toward it in an attempt to get away.

Heismay tensed in his hiding spot. So far he’d been observing how these two fought, beginning to notice that they attacked in sequence rather than tandem, but now he saw a potential opportunity. Markiona’s escape put her somewhat close to his hiding spot. If the others could turn her attention away, he could spring into action.

Ramattra was able to offer a suitable distraction, manifesting a large cluster of purple energy in his palm composed of nanites. The mass swirled in his palm before he flung it with two fingers toward the puppet Markiona had regrouped with. The Vortex would form underneath the airborne puppeteer, creating a strong pull of gravity underneath her feet, which restrained her upward and horizontal movement. Hopefully, immobilizing her will prove to buy the rest of the group time to strategize and perform any ultimate/strong attacks.

Quickly unburdening his staff into a flurry of nanites, Ramattra would snap his hands together, the iconic loud chime of his form converting to Nemesis form, his massive body now stomping towards Markiona to buy any possible further time. With the physically largest threat now unleashing bursts of nanite-powered punches on the puppet master. “You will have to try harder than that, Human!” The gleam-influenced Omnic did not see this Puppeteer of Death as anything other than another human between him and his goals.

Once she found her movement hindered, and even her arche puppet grounded, Markiona reoriented herself to fight. She charged as Ramattra attacked, and after a couple punches, the omnic found his next intercepted by a large orb summoned point-black. The blow smashed into the crystalline surface, but did not blow through it completely, which left Ramattra’s fist lodged inside. Markiona hopped back, two more orbs whirling around her, then sent them both spiralling forward in a corkscrew. Rather than strike him, they pincered him in a revolving vicegrip as they rose, lifting the captive omnic into the air. “Hah…” Markiona straightened up as she wiped blood from her lip, then lifted one hand up as her puppet strings turned red. “Nasty puppet. Try this on for size!” Up above, her puppet launched into a max-speed falcon dive, its full weight behind its mace as it slammed into Ramattra full tilt.

The clang of metal against metal made Heismay wince, but he also saw his chance while both puppet and puppeteer were recovering. In silence he sprinted from the shadows and leaped into the air. His longsaber flashed, passing harmlessly through the blue string that bound Markiona to her attendant. He landed with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. “Curses…”

Markiona seemed almost as surprised as him. “Where did-?”

At that moment, Geralt rose from where he’d been blown back by Markiona and began firing at her with his pistol, now in the LCCB Assistant Manager Identity. “Was worth a shot, but we need to split their attention!” He called in response to Heismay’s failed attack, trying to capture her attention once more.

Struggling between the mass of glass-like matter, Ramattra would curl his hand within his new air prison. A robotic and metallic wince of pain seethed through his vocal circuitry as he twisted his hand out of the orbs’ grasp like a robotic contortionist. Here he was, uselessly trapped in the air and unable to aid his allies. Seeing as there were no other fighters with ranged weapons, Ramattra had little else to offer as he clutched his hand, a stream of nanites form between his fingertips as a translucent purple-ish blue shield rapidly formed for cover. Geralt was free to fire pot shots for a couple uninterrupted.

It was now up to the rest of the Botanical Squad to pull through and get him free so that he may assist them further. “T-That is the best I can do for now human. Keep looking for weakpoints, anything.” The barrier was a magnificent, almost crystal clear material that’s harder than carbon fiber. Whatever this shield was made of, it was made to last, within time constraints.

At that point Ace caught back up, and though he got the gist of Geralt's call out he wasn't entirely sure that there was a they. If the puppet master's construct did have a mind of its own, it did not seem keen on showing it. Regardless, keeping the arche puppet from freely attacking would limit its puppeteer's offensive options. So the Cadet stuck to the initial plan, going for the puppet with another series of slashes coupled with the flat of his shield striking enamel to wear it down.

Gritting her teeth, Markiona commanded her arche puppet to begin a strafing run, her strings flashing red. Then she thrust her palms out to conjure first one orb, then another. Heismay nimbly dodged the one shot his way like a giant cue ball, then darted forward, trusting Geralt to do the same. He briefly became his Archetype in order to let rip a Dark Sword with the Thief’s greater range, but the next moment one of the orbs slammed into him from behind on its way back to Markiona. “Uhhff!” It rolled right over his small body and left him face-down on the ground.

As Heismay charged in, Geralt walked forward much more slowly and deliberately, firing a round from his pistol roughly in time with each step, each shot helping to build up Tremor on Markiona.

Just then there came a thunderclap of a shot from the entrance of the greenhouse, followed by a metal slug crackling with fire and lighting lancing across the room towards Markiona’s center of mass. The source of this shot was Edward, who rather than run into the fray, had taken advantage of his late arrival to crouch down in the shadow of the entryway, line up his shot, and execute a sneak attack using his Smiting Bishop rifle.

“Agh!” Markiona gasped, doubling over with one hand clamped against her seared solar plexus. At that point the augments in her left arm overloaded, sparks flying as her hand spasmed uncontrollably. That seemed to disrupt her puppet strings, for her attendant slowed to a stop in the midst of its strafing run and idled for a moment, about a foot off the ground.

Edward’s cheap shop wasn’t the only surprise in store for Markiona, though. A moment after she bent over, a purple arcane ray slammed into her forehead. Though it didn’t penetrate, its force snapped her backward with enough force to backflip her onto her belly. After warping to Ace’s position, Sandalphon had taken a similar tact to the strategist and lined up a perfect shot with her hexagun. Whatever her snipe lacked in up-front damage, it made up for with the state it left Markiona in, vulnerable, laying in a pool of archfire napalm and within striking distance of both Geralt and Heismay.

To help ensure they had the best opportunity to get their hits in on the puppeteer even if she recovered enough to command her arche puppet, Ace took advantage of said puppet's idle state. Sandalphon's appearance had caused him to startle which cut his reaction time, but he made the best of it and made to return its early favor - striking at one of the doll's elbow joints to disrupt its ability to hold that massive mace.

As Markiona lay on the ground, Geralt transformed back to his natural Identity and raised his sword, slowly chanting an incantation as he began channeling a spell. “Light of the heavens, pierce my foes. Holy Lance!” As he finished the spell, the telltale ring of light appeared around Markiona, six spears of light materializing above her before striking in sequence, ending with a meteoric strike from above.

Though subjected to brutal punishment, Markiona was made of stern stuff. When the light died down she rolled away and onto her feet, scorched and disheveled but alive. Any pretense of being in control of the situation had died, however, and her breathing was labored as she scowled at the newcomers. “Damned ingrates. How many of you are there? So insecure in your strength that you must rely upon numbers?” Gritting her teeth, she turned her strings red and yanked her arche puppet away from Ace, then bade it launch into a sweeping assault of mace strikes toward the group in general, its grip not yet broken. As it attacked she grabbed a device from her belt, which Sandalphon took a shot at and missed by a few inches as Markiona brought it to her mouth. “Idiots! Get in here, now!”

”Well that can’t be good” Edward said to himself as he slid his rifle back into the oversized hip holster, before entering the room at a break neck sprint and going for the downed Ramattra, tapping his chest to summon a friend heart and then tossing it the rest of the distance.

He then used a flap of his wings to halt his run, and then offered the now un-Galeemed Omnic a hand to help him stand ”Welcome out of the light. I think we are about to be in trouble.”

Ramttra fell from the orbs released from Omnic form, giving him a moment to rest its exhaustion on him. As if a rush of color washed over Ramattra’s form, his memories of the Omnic War, his parting from the Monastery, and the formation of Null Sector slowly began coming back to him. There was no time to unpack all of this. Upon absorbing the Friend Heart, the Omnic felt revitalized, as if he had a fresh start, both physically and mentally. Hopefully that mental fortitude carried Ramattra through the reality of The World of Light. Another conversation for later. Two seconds and already there was more trouble… “Thank you… for that.” He bowed to his saviors.

On the other side of the field Ace stuck to his target, evading its weapon as it struck out against any Seeker in its range. What he couldn't dodge he blocked, retaliating with a sword dance to chip away at its skeleton or a hard strike with his shield. One particularly heavy swipe of the puppet's mace against his shield sent Ace tumbling backward, though he let his heels come up over his head in order to quickly get his feet back under him and stand again.

With a groan, Heismay picked himself up just in time to avoid the arche puppet’s onslaught. He leaped up and out of the way, flapping his wings once for an extra boost. When he landed, he clutched his shoulder with a grimace. “That sphere hurt more than it had any right to.”

At that, Sandalphon moved toward him. Rather than continue to take shots at Markiona or her puppet, she prioritized the use of Angelic Praise in order to heal Heismay and top everyone else up. “Will that suffice?”

The eugief flexed his wing, then gave a roguish smile as he hefted his sword. “More than enough.”

As the Arche Puppet attacked the group, Geralt moved to meet it head-on, deflecting and parrying mace blows with the flat of his steel sword. He ducked below a horizontal swipe, rising and stepping forward past its guard with a slash, spinning and cutting into its back before launching a destabilizing blast of energy from Aard. Evolving facts made this battle an annoyance from a tactical perspective, but he’d dealt with plenty of bothersome fights before.

The puppet’s strings turned red as Markiona pulled it away, now showing clear signs of damage. Its master conjured an orb that she hurled toward Heismay, Sandalphon, and Geralt in a zig-zag pattern. Heismay leaped over the serpentine attack, then sprinted toward Markiona, only for her to grapple away toward her puppet on blue strings. He followed after her, relentless, and transformed in order to launch a Mudo at her a moment after she landed. With a snarl she turned and hurled a huge orb at him that carved a furrow as it plowed through the ground. As fragments of earth and stone brick flew, Heismay leaped over the orb and touched down just in time to see the puppet string right next to him turn red. “Not good enough!” Relying on his keen hearing, he backflipped into the air just in time to avoid a massive mace swipe from the puppet behind him, landed on the puppet, then slashed at its neck and kicked off before it could stomp him into the ground with an axe kick.

After creating another cerulean tile, Sandalphon knelt down and opened fire from a distance. She prioritized the Queen’s Arche Puppet, the easier of the two targets, and with her arcane sharpshooting helped whittle down the machine’s vitality. If anyone took another heavy blow, she would be ready to heal.

At that moment, Markiona’s reinforcements arrived through the front door. They took the form of a fashionable fencer out in front, a slower but much bulkier steroid-pumped boxer, a tall, well-dressed caster, and a shriveled pyro with a burning core where his heart ought to be. All bore the pallid skin and alembic augmentations that marked them as Alchemists like Markiona, and in a loose formation they pushed forward.

Given that they were coming through the door, and thus did not have their backs to the foliage all around the rest of the area, Edward took the opportunity to field test the Odin’s Pinky. With one hand on the grip and another holding the back for support, he briefly charged the magical smg, the front prongs spinning up to a high speed before it unleashed a volley of 18 burning hot rounds in 2 seconds towards the largest of the targets.

Given that it was a field test, his recoil control wasn’t exactly the best, but some of the shots did hit their mark, igniting the muscular man. Unfortunately, a little thing like being on fire didn’t stop him, and he promptly charged towards Edward, though not before the squad’s most distorted of distortees formed a fireball in his hands and tossed it the Dreadnaught's way.

He hurled himself out of the way of the retaliatory firepower, disappearing into and appearing out of a portal, but before he could steady himself, the boxer lunged for him, grappling him. Edward struggled for a moment before being suplexed over the man’s shoulder and slamming bodily into the ground behind him.

Rather than pivot to strike him, the boxer rushed Ramattra, while the pyro closed in to roast the prone Edward with his firebreath. Seeing the larger of the backup crew barreling at Ramattra, he knew this fight was meant for him. “Ah-ha! Taking on somebody your own size? Well.” Between his sentences, he snapped back into Nemesis form before clashing with the boxer. “You have caught my attention!” The two caught each other's attack, a dramatic smack reverberating throughout the garden area as the two consistently traded punches with one another, leaving the responsibility of the melee alchemist to him.

Sandalphon’s position relatively near the entrance, far beyond Markiona’s effective range, primed her both to hear the puppeteer’s reinforcements and to be targeted by them. Trusting Heismay and Geralt to handle themselves against Markiona for now, she pivoted toward the newcomers as the fencer ran her way. She had enough time for but a single hasty shot, so instead she let go of her hexagun with one hand and lobbed a Frost Lock his way. The swordsman nimbly sidestepped, then charged the last few yards with his blade primed for a thrust. Sandalphon fired her weapon downward to vault high into the air, out of her attacker’s reach, then slowed her fall with Heavensent. The fencer waited, staring up at her as she slowly descended. She attempted to shoot down at him, but in this situation, her aim was far from steady, and her shots were woefully inconsistent.

Ramattra, between shared blows with the boxer, saw Sandaphlon’s struggle, and despite his returning memory clouding some of his reaction speed, was able to shove the Alchemist off of him for a moment to throw a hardlight shield for the archangel. The barrier materialized in front of her in a matter of seconds, and was sure to fall just as quickly, even if it was for one well-placed shot/. “That is all I can do to assist you.” The Omnic whispered to himself as the Boxer began thrashing back toward Ramattra.

Between her and Ramattra, a discombobulated Edward reflexively summoned his Reaver striker as he tried to clear his head. The vehicle-sized multi-tendriled warbeast loomed over him defensively, and then promptly started lashing out at the pyro, a barrage of serrated spear tips stabbing into and then eviscerating it.

It promptly exploded, searing the Reaver’s tendrils and Edward’s fingers in sympathy, causing him to drop his magelock pistol he’d been trying to aim at the fencer, leaving him with only one option, which was to expend his featherstaff striker, using her to overheal Sandalphon to buy her a bulwark of vitality against the impending sword strike.

Once she received the boost, the archangel wasted no time. She cancelled Heavensent and dropped, both herself and her hexagun to summon her gunstaff, with which she aimed a plunging strike at the fencer. Not aware of her paltry strength and not able to see her clearly when silhouetted against her halo from below, the fencer decided not to take his chances and hopped backwards. When Sandalphon landed, she used that brief window to make her preparations. The fencer lunged and sank his sword into her torso up to the hilt, aimed just below the ribcage.

The bonus health from Edward not only saved her, but kept her lucid enough that she could clench her teeth and tighten her grasp on the nigh-imperceptible razor wires she’d strung up a split second beforehand. They sheared through flesh and bone alike, slicing the fencer’s sword arm into medallions. As he staggered away from her in stunned silence, Sandalphon pulled the blade out, then cast Angelic Praise to heal both herself and Edward to full. The swordsman, numb from adrenaline, went for the fallen blade, only to freeze solid when the archangels’ Frost Lock struck him. She took aim, revved up her gunstaff, then fired once at his temple before turning away to face the next foe. When the alchemist unfroze, the Dissociation exploded his head, and his ashes hit the floor just after.

Ramattra in the meantime was able to keep his own against the brawler-type alchemist while the rest of his group duked it out with whoever was their responsibility, but the longer Ram stayed in his Omnic form, the longer he could feel his circuitry getting exhausted, he had to finish this foe off soon, or he would suffer the consequences. In a quick spark of thought, Ramattra would phase himself quickly out of Nemesis form, preparing a ball of vortex in his off hand as he threw it directly underneath both of their feet, the swarm of nanites restricting the boxer’s movement, but allowing the omnic to move freely.

Out of nemesis form, Ramattra would step out of range of the boxer's kicks and punches, delivering a swift blow to his jaw with his staff as he parted the vortex. At this point, it was just a matter of whittling down the last of his remaining strength, a bright purple beam of nanites impacting the fighter like a million tiny bullets. From their sparring to now being trapped and taking direct fire, the alchemist would falter, the last of his strength devoured by nanites eating away at him.

The last alchemist halted his electrical bombardment of the Reaver in shock in response to this explosive end, which was a mistake, as it gave Edward time to stop convulsing from the sympathy damage to grab his fallen magelock pistol (his fingers having been restored by Sandalphon). Still sprawled on the floor, he used it to support his aim, and promptly nailed the foe in the ankle, causing him to stumble and fall as the slug vaporised flesh and shattered bone. He caught himself with his staff, but it would take him time to resolve how to still use it as a weapon. Time he did not have, as the recovered Sandalphon peppered him with quick shots from her hexagun, not bothering with precision. The third shot polymorphed the alchemist into a chicken, and that was that.

Re-applying Quen, Geralt kept his focus on Markiona, evading mace blows from her Arche Puppet as best he could to keep the pressure on the self-styled Puppeteer of Death. With Heismay helping keep her attention split, Geralt found a primer opportunity to cut in, stepping around and cutting over the diminutive Eugief, forcing Markiona to deal with blows coming both low and high at the same time. Heismay’s stature made fighting in tandem remarkably possible, at least compared to other fighters. The risk of their weapons clashing was minimized by the fact that one was at least a solid two feet higher than the other at all times. As their slashes struck, Geralt backstepped, raised his pre-loaded hand crossbow, and fired a bolt at Markiona to add insult to injury.

The bolt lodged just above her collarbone, eliciting a cry of pain. Markiona was a remarkably tough woman, but even her alchemical vitality had its limits. “Enough!” She flipped backward, using her puppet as leverage, then clenched her fist. Her puppet strings turned orange, crackling with energy, and when she cracked them like a lash the Queen’s Arche Puppet whipped around with impossible speed and crashed down between the Seekers like a meteor. After narrowly avoiding the swan dive, Heismay did not expect it to stretch its limbs and vent its heat in a withering plasma burst that knocked both him and Geralt away, burned and shocked just as Markiona had been earlier. When the alchemist pulled the puppet back for another go, Heismay forced his battered body to move, first in a dodge and then in a sprint away from the follow-up. “Scatter!” Finally, Markiona whirled the strings around in an impressive spin and brought the puppet down for one final meteoric blast, this one aimed at the slower Geralt alone.

Slower to rise, Geralt did not have time to dodge the incoming attack from the puppet. Instead, he held his ground, drew the Sign of Quen in the air before him once more, and focused, pouring as much stamina into the Sign as he dared, a bubble of energy surrounding him as the blow struck, shattering the barrier and forcing him to take a pained step back, but leaving him standing, and just a little pissed off. His breaths were coming in quick and heavy, the Witcher having exhausted himself to prevent being flattened, but he was in more than good enough shape to fight through the temporary exhaustion, launching himself forward to carve away at the Arche Puppet.

He landed two solid blows before the strings turned red and the puppet launched into action. It executed a spinning crescent kick, then took off, boosting straight up. The strings then went blue as Markiona swung forward as if on a rope swing, seated on a single large orb that bore down on Geralt like a wrecking ball. Caught in a moment of rare indecision, the Witcher took a heavy blow to his left shoulder, arm, and hip as he tried to pivot out of the way. At the same time, Heismay ran back toward the action, a moment away from being able to help.

Now able to assist the rest of his team, Ramattra returned to the fray from a tactical distance. A sharp beam of purple would stream towards Markiona in an attempt to deal some chip damage as she completed her swing. Anticipating an attack at any moment, Ramattra moved around erratically as he closed the distance between the defeated boxer and the rest of the group. Another shield was quickly plopped down in front of him as he rushed next to Geralt, now transformed again. “I’m going to try and help you human, but you would be wise to remember this favor.” Ramattra would use the bulk of his large fists to attempt to move, break, or crack the orb the best he can. Hopefully his strength and carefulness to remove Geralt would prove effective.

Markiona’s strings turned red as her puppet descended from above with a massive mace smash in the middle of both Geralt and Ramattra, completely bypassing the shield. She issued the command for it to continue the assault with a couple of kicks before the strings went blue again and the puppeteer herself took action. She seized the heavy orb she’d planted from afar and dragged it toward the two to try and bowl them over. In the chaos, however, she’d lost track of Heismay, and when her focus on the orb left the Queen’s Arche Puppet a sitting duck, the hermit took full advantage. “Take this!” He leaped forward to plunge his longsaber into the string interface at the base of the puppet’s neck, then, as he flipped off, transformed and used Plunder Life to steal some of the puppet’s health for himself.

Thanks mostly to Ace and Geralt’s efforts, that skill turned out to be the final straw. The puppet fell to its knees, deactivated. Markiona swore and adjusted her command gauntlet, turning the blue strings green as the puppet entered repair mode, its vitality quickly restoring. For the moment, though, the alchemist stood alone.

With only one foe left to face, the Seekers surely could taste the winds of victory in the near distance, and with Geralt now being freed, Ramattra’s priority shifted to Markiona, who surely would anticipate another Vortex. With six fighters now turning their attention, Ramattra looked to Heismay, who had a specific size advantage… “You!” Ramattra pointed at the Eugief with his large, bulky finger. “If I… Throw you up there.” He realized how awkward it was to ask this. “Can you strike her?”

This undignified idea didn’t appeal to Heismay, but if his new acquaintance had a good idea, he couldn’t afford to be choosy. He gave a quick, sharp nod. “Yes.”

While Markiona paused to repair her puppet, Geralt took the same opportunity, backing off to cast a First Aid on himself. As good as Sandalphon's healing could be, he wasn't taking any chances right now after the beating he'd just taken.

With Heismay’s permission, and the end of their battle closing in, Ramattra would offer his arm for the rogue to scramble onto his shoulder. “We’ll need to find an opening. Hopefully one of our friends here can provide us one.” Without yet another good distraction to keep Markiona’s eyes off Ramattra and Heismay, their plan was temporarily stalled. It had to be something big so that the Eugief could get in and deliver a final push.

Sandalphon heard him loud and clear. “Understood. Initiating distraction.” After stowing her rifle, she raised her hands and grasped her three-ringed halo, taking its luminous glow into herself. Her body disappeared in a burst of radiant light, and when the miniature solar flare died down, the woman had been replaced by a towering sixteen-foot archangel with marble scales, golden wings of light, and a reptilian tail. The majestic being cast her arms wide to manifest a half-dozen ice-blue screens that she then hurled at Markiona, pounding her like giant stamps. It took only a couple seconds for one of them to freeze her, at which point Sandalphon gathered her power. Orbs of holy water arose amidst rippling magic, then launched forward as spears to rain down on Markiona’s position.

Once the lightshow began, Heismay mostly just watched, stunned. “One hell of a distraction,” he murmured. Was a blow from his sword even necessary at this point?

As Sandalphon's barrage of attacks pummeled Markiona, Geralt moved in, refusing to let himself underestimate the alchemist and risk the fight running even further. With his sword still blazing from Edward's enchantment, the Witcher struck her frozen form, cutting across her body several times before performing a flourishing pirouette that culminated in a vicious stab directly into her torso, before he wrenched his blade free and hopped back, one hand ready to cast a Sign should she emerge from the freeze intact.

Ice and first burst from Markiona as she thawed, hammered by Dissociation that threatened to rupture her from within. With a hollow death rattle she fell to one knee as her alchemical gauntlet sparked and smoked, her mystical strings fading away. Behind Geralt, the puppet deactivated for the final time, its metal body crashing to the ground with limbs splayed at odd angles. For the briefest moment, however, the puppeteer clung to life.

“Well, I suppose all that’s left is to finish the job.” Ramattra looked to Heismay and Geralt. It was a good spur of thought, but they had more firepower than Ramattra anticipated. “We still need to deal with her.” He couldn’t risk there being more reinforcements, her puppet being resurrected, or her being healed to fight again. Everyone here was already so exhausted. While the rest of the group managed Markiona, Ramattra would scout the rest of the botanical area for a couple minutes, making sure stragglers were dealt with.

A final blast of telekinetic energy from Aard heralded Markiona's end, her lifeless body dissolving into ash before she even hit the ground, propelled backwards by Geralt's sign. The Witcher took a deep breath, then another, before allowing himself to fall to his knees, utterly spent as he closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. “Just…a minute.” He panted, to reassure the others that he hadn't gone and died on them just yet.

”I’m sure we can give you that, but if you can make it back to the stage coach, the stew looks like it's ready for pouring" a still shock scorched Edward said as he approached the group, having stayed out of the way of the far more devastating fighters waiting for a shot that had not been needed to be fired. Sandalphon floated over as well, reverting from the draconic Heavenly Wings to her usual form without batting her eye. Dutifully she prepared a cast of Heavenly Praise to heal the bulk of the Seekers’ wounds.

”And you’ll have questions that need answering, I imagine," Edward then also called over to Ramattra, implicitly inviting the Omnic as he returned from his quick round of the garden, to come join them for that meal, even if it was the curiosity of the machine that would be sated rather than any biological function from eating.

Heismay nodded. “No doubt.” He collected the spirit of Markiona, then glanced warily at the lifeless puppet nearby. “Let’s be off then. Some nice, warm stew will do these old bones good.”

Ramattra sighed with a metallic whir. In all honesty, while the state of the World was now unknown to Ramattra. Where was he? But more important to him; what of Null Sector? His hatred for humans probably does not hold the same weight as it does from his original world. He had a lot of thinking to do… as he looked down at his monk robe, he realized how bad the brainwashing really was. He would gently remove the garbs, folding them over his arm to reveal a sleek frame of black, silver, and purple. “Yes well… I suppose there are some proper introductions in order once we get to the coach.” Is that why he wanted to get to the Monastery? Was his mind reverted back to being a monk so that he wouldn’t start another evil robot uprising?… he had a lot of thinking to do.

Level 7 - EXP 19/70
Words: 580 // +1 EXP
Krat Zoo - The Frozen Highlands




Ramattra, of course, expecting Addux to become involved with the Seekers' operations, was surprised by the silent departure the stranger had taken. The concerned feeling in the Omnics' mechanical core only grew from this change in situation, wary of the hooded man’s motives with his new absence. Hopefully, his words were honest, and he meant Ramattra and the rest of the group no harm. Now that he had regrouped with the rest of the White Team outside of the Staff Center and botanical area after crossing the gap in the flooded Safari Zone, Ramattra was free to interact with the rest of his group members.

The weight of the hefty sack burdened Ramattra, reminding him that his bounty from defeating Scrapbeak in the abandoned woodmill had yet to be offered to Sandaphlon, who may have more use of the resources hoarded inside the bag aboard the Stagecoach. During the group’s short break, the omnic saw it as important to meet shortly with the archangel before exploring the botanical area. While the rest of the group waited and rested, he met her outside the Stagecoach, holding the bag out in a gesture to show his utility. His glowing eyes hummed red as he set the bag aside the entrance to the carriage, looking at the grazing Reindrix through the door. “Our friends Kit and Celica are well. There was an incident in the mill that left them retired back in Snowdin. This bag is filled with materials that may serve the Seekers.”

With a stiff bow, he left the bag sadly slouched over in the snow. A moment of quiet passed before he spoke again, the red sensors on his face beaming to life again, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Monastery in this region is? I’ve been searching for it for quite some time. You wouldn’t happen to know… well, anything regarding it?” In all honesty, he didn't expect a spectacular answer. But something within him was pulled by the idea of returning to something comfortable, a distraction from the Seekers’ intentions, like he was sleepwalking his memories. It became clear from the haze in Ramattra’s gaze that he was still under Galeem’s influence and that somebody in the group would need to be responsible for the release of Ramattra’s consciousness. Whether Sandaphlon decided to do so or not was up to her, but at least somebody in charge knew.

There was no purpose for Ramattra to eat or rest since Omnics are machine in nature, so during the duration of the rest of their break, he meditated, reflecting on his monk morality, which he had originally abandoned before being imprisoned in Galeem’s world. He sat in an idle meditation pose, his orb of destruction floating like a dark void in front of Ramattra. Friend-hearting Ramattra may shake his whole core and alter his personality entirely.

After their rest, Ramattra would leave the company of the stagecoach and return to the rest of the group. It looked like one of the newest party members had opted to explore the Staff Center already for the missing Viking, and Sandaphlon was recruiting members to explore the Botanical area. Ramattra had no way to traverse the flooded Safari Zone on his own and would not be able to return to the Hall of Adventure, so traveling with her felt like the safest bet for the time being. Besides, it never hurts to get to know who’s in charge, does it?

Level 7 - EXP 18/70
Words: 316 // +1 EXP
Krat Zoo - The Frozen Highlands




Ramattra stood across the flooded terrain, a large distance separating the Omnic and his companion from their goal, which was now with the rest of the group. They fought their foe relentlessly as Ramattra searched for a way across the exhibit. With so much debris and so little transportation or detours to use across the makeshift canal, the large robot was stumped, knowing it would be impossible to cross with its current tools. Suddenly, Addux had stated that he could help cross the river at Ramattra’s command. The omnic seemed shocked, assuming he had some form of nano-technology to help them cross the water. “Oh? Well, with haste then, my friend. It seems our allies will soon take down that enemy.”

Addux nodded to Ramattra’s request, conjuring a portal of shadows and darkness in front of the dog-mounted sled, ushering Ramattra to follow through the portal as Addux regained control of his sled, steering his wolves and entering alongside Ramattra to the other side. By the time the two had crossed the gap, the enemy had retreated, thanks to the efforts of the Seekers who stayed with the Stagecoach. Of course, Ramattra did not return to the group empty-handed, his bounty being the new company and the large bag of metal and weapons.

With a metallic sigh, Ramattra would return to the group with his large sack of scraps, allowing Addux to be “unburdened” by his company and complete whatever business he had with the Seekers. “If you need a better grasp of what is going on, you should speak to Sandalphon. She’s in the Stagecoach. She seems to be handling most operations here.” Ramattra would brush some of the debris from the battle off his monk robe, seemingly perturbed by the small mess it created. Part of him was glad he didn’t stay behind to fight this creature. It left the place in absolute shambles.

Level 7 - EXP 17/70
Words: 480 // +1 EXP
Krat Zoo - The Frozen Highlands




The sled dashed along the tracks left behind by the stagecoach, the click and patter of claws against ice and slush echoing into the woods of the Midnight Walk. Ramattra continued to pilot the wolf-carried sled in place of Addux, leading the stranger back to the rest of the group, which initially was against the Omnic’s best interest. Still, after careful consideration, Ramattra realized that traversing without the rest of his group had left him without significant firepower. Even if he hadn’t temporarily “borrowed” Addux’s wolf-sled, travelling on his own, especially at night, was dangerous. The two were set for over a week's worth of travel, which would have taken longer had it not been for the particularly burly dogs carrying the sled. The Omnic and his new companion spent most of their travel time in silence, and only took breaks for the wolves to avoid any overexhaustion.




By the end of their travels, Ramattra and Addux had finally arrived at a zoo that had seen its share of better days. Seeing as there were smashed gates and the twisted carcasses of animals, it was clear that the Omnic and his passenger were closer than ever to their destination. It would be in Ramattra’s best interest to reconvene with Sandalphon about the status of Kit and Celica, who were now retired from the mission after the elimination of Scrapbeak. Ramattra wished he had returned with more than a bag of scraps and a mysterious hooded figure, but if Addux did have some relevance to the Seekers, then just maybe he would be able to guide the team to their goal and provide Ramattra with the information he needed.

The trail of the coach had led through a “Hall of Adventure”, where the mangled corpses of mutated animals littered the parks and exhibits surrounding the outdoor areas. The concept of zoos always irked Ramattra. Something about creatures being captured for human entertainment never really sat well with him. He pretended this was one of those “rescue and release” rehabilitation zoos to ease his mind about the matter, though, given the state of the animals lying on the ground, issues were worse than an ethical concern. If he could make facial expressions, a wince of disgust would’ve stretched over Ramattra’s face. “What on earth could have happened here…” he said with his stoic voice rich with dread.

In the nearby distance, a rumbling roar filled the lively woods, attracting Ramattra’s attention away from the recently deserted Hall, and following its lead to a hulking white reptile, angry with what group members had yet to split off. Hopefully, the Stagecoach being parked nearby was enough for Addux to recognize Ramattra’s allies as the Seekers and aid them with the fight against the large reptilian mutant. The bag of scrap and information about Kit and Celica would have to wait for another time.


Level 7 - EXP 16/70
Words: 1354 // +3 EXP
Reindrix Clearing - The Frozen Highlands




Without the assurance of an armored stagecoach or a capable team at his back, Ramattra's return journey to and through the Reavers' Woods was especially harrowing. The whispering wind through the pine trees that stooped over the path seemed hauntingly conspiratorial, and every shadow that danced in the moonlight was damnably suggestive of savage marauders ready to pounce. He could rely only on the speed of his inconspicuous dog sled as he followed the furrows left by the Seekers' stagecoach through the snow.

Eventually, the solitary omnic reached the clearing where the Reindrix retrieved by the others had been hitched to the wagon. The Seekers weren't there, of course, but the area was by no means empty. A lone figure, clad head to toe in a heavy, hooded black cloak, was fighting off a trio of reavers, though judging by the ash piles on the floor, they hadn't been the only ones to attack him. As Ramattra watched, the man in black deflected the arrow of a reaver archer with a machete-like sword, then blinked away from the heavy reaver pugilist to sink his blade into the archer's ribs. As the reaver swordsman charged, the stranger pivoted to use the archer's body as a shield. For a brief moment, the swordsman exchanged blows with him, but as a duelist, he was outclassed. A slice to the leg downed the reaver, and the next second his dark mane was slick with lifesblood. When the pugilist approached to take revenge, the black-robed man seemed to accelerate, moving faster than out to be possible. A flurry of unblockable blows opened grievous cuts all over the heavyweight, concluding in a thrust to the glowing eye within the pugilist's skull.

As Ramattra approached, his dogs slowed down, wary of the scent of blood. When the man in black turned, though, he took one look at Ramattra and sheathed his sword. He approached slowly, holding his hand out for the stalwart huskies to sniff, then stroked their heads one by one. "Difficult to follow at a discrete, safe distance when some of you keep doubling back," he remarked in a low, somewhat growly English accent, his tone neutral.

Ramattra, cautious with the intent the mysterious swordsman had withheld, watched the figure's movement with each of his sensors. He had no reason not to trust the man, seeing as the wolves the sled had been mounted to took to his gesture so eagerly. As far as Ramattra was concerned, he was sitting in the driver's seat of the hooded fighter's vehicle. Unfortunately, with the distance between him and the rest of the Seekers, this dog-operated sled was his only reliable form of transportation... And he had given up the rest of his coin to Kit earlier for his service against Scrapbeak. His means for negotiation were short, and as far as he was concerned, he was strapped for options.

Unfortunately for Ramattra as well, the monochromatic figure didn't seem remotely interested in the Omnic's presence, approaching the dogs as though they were familiar. For a moment, Ramattra thought the man was speaking to the dogs for abandoning their post to transport a stranger with a strange, large sack. But then it occurred to him, the Seekers could have been followed by this figure, especially given their uncertain motives, and have made themselves marked as some form of threat. Seeing the man lower his weapon made the tension brewing in the Omnic's circuits less reactive, as he courteously stepped out of the wagon to move closer to the mysterious man.

"To whom do you speak?" Ramattra answered back in his industrialized voice, staff clutched in one hand, large sack of metal in the other. The Omnic was smarter than to resort to violence, having seen the stranger's ability to hold his own against multiple well-armed combatants. If the Omnic were to attack this person right now, he was sure to lose the fight- if this man were a threat, this would not be a conflict Ramattra could handle all on his own... He grasped his staff tightly out of the hooded figure's eyeshot, prepared to defend himself if needed. "Who are you, exactly?" There was something about this man that screamed importance, that screamed a mystery unanswered, and Ramattra's introduction would surely have to wait for that reason.

The man in black turned his head toward the Omnic, though his eyes couldn't be seen within the darkness of his hood. "Addux. Just someone with a vested interest in the destruction of Galeem's Guardians. You don't need to think of me as a friend, but I am the enemy of your enemy." His gaze shifted to the trail through the woods. "Without knowing Baldur's location, the Midnight Walk is as good a choice as any. It's said that it always leads you where you're meant to go, even if you lose your way." He turned back to Ramattra and crossed his arms. "My plan was to follow along and help if needed. Since you helped yourself to my sled, perhaps you'd be so good as to give me a lift to the next location." His gruff tone was a little sarcastic.

A lot of the buzzwords Addux used were foreign to Ramattra, who had joined the Seeker’s ranks to get closer to his own goals. Galeem? He had heard the others reference the name, but it served him no purpose, and any time it had been brought up, Ramattra would somehow always forget. Ramattra was still bound by the iron weight of Galeem’s influence, still very much disoriented with the state this world was in. However, it was reassuring to the Omnic that the stranger meant no harm. He loosened his grip on his staff and became less reactive to Addux’s movement. “I am the Omnic Ramattra. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” There was more genuine appreciation than normal in his voice, performing his best attempt at friendly negotiations with the sled-owner. “I apologize. I fear I am not the most knowledgeable on our operations.” Ramattra explained, indicating his confusion about the World of Light.

“Well, in any case. I apologize for using your steeds. I was in quite a bad position.” He returned to the sled's driver's seat while Addux had his back turned, still skeptical about introducing the stranger to the team… He had an air of secrecy, and whether his intentions were in line with the Seekers or not did not prove to relieve Ramattra’s worries. With no bargaining chips, no way back to the Seekers, and the owner of the sled right next to him, he had no other options. With a mechanical sigh, Ramattra gestured to the side of the large bag of scrap, where Kit had previously sat. “Go on, I have no qualms with your request. It is your property, after all.”

The gaze of Addux lingered on Ramattra for a moment. He'd assumed that this machine, traveling with the Seekers as one of their own, simply featured a natural red eye color, but his behavior was giving him doubts. If Galeem's influence still bound him, it would be much more difficult to explain why a shady-looking Organization member might be on his side. Fortunately, the fact of the dog sled's ownership seemed to be enough to convince the omnic to cooperate, so Addux counted himself lucky. With a curt nod of thanks, the stranger seated himself, and the ride through Reaver Woods could continue. Ramattra's new acquaintance soon proved himself to be the taciturn type, so without any further conversation, the pair proceeded along the Midnight Walk, their advance silent but for the pant and patter of sled dogs, and the whistling winter wind through the pines.

The expedition was expected to last over a week, and regrouping with the others at the Krat Zoo was likely to bring about more random encounters in the wild. They followed the path the Midnight Walk led them, the Omnic more concerned for his well-being with a mysterious stranger in his company rather than the dangers around them.

Level 7 - EXP 13/70
Words: 3378 // +5 EXP
Mysterious Lumber Mill - The Frozen Highlands




It seems Ramattra’s advances to recruit allies had proved fruitful. A quiet moment had passed in the shredded-apart hallway, Ramattra strutted through before hearing two sets of steps approaching his location. As if something in his circuits fired off, hearing the sound of footsteps closing in made him react, quickly flourishing his staff as he flicked around to threaten whoever-or whatever had followed him. Noticing it was some of the fellow Seekers, Kit and Celica, Ramattra immediately lowered his weapon and offered a simple nod of apology to the duo that had followed him into the Lumber Mill. “Ah. Good, glad to see that some humans still have some skin. Come. Let’s find this trouble our friend ran into.” The Omnic was quick to turn over his shoulder to walk deeper into the building, leaving the other recruits behind, expecting them to follow. Kit and Celica had seemingly raised their guard toward Ramattra’s mistake, startled by the accidental threat. They offered one another a glance of confusion and concern, Celica’s bemused expression sharing the burden of displaying emotion for Kit.

When Kit and Celica caught up with their robotic companion, he began speaking again, debriefing details. “So. Our friend -erm, Heismay, I believe, was quite brief on the details.” Ramattra caught himself even trying to recall the names of the members who had followed him inside as he struggled to gather Heismay’s. It seemed they were about as fresh to the party as Ramattra was, now having a glimpse at the chain of command that existed within the Seekers. “You wouldn’t happen to have learned anything, have you?”

Celica was the first to chime in, finding herself speaking in part for the more quiet-sided Kit. “Partially. It was less a briefing and more of a warning. Heismay is small and intelligent enough to squeak himself out of any hairy situations, but the second we encounter whatever’s in here, we should expect a fight.” Ramattra, naturally, expected nothing less. While Heismay was a skilled fighter, it made sense for someone more stealthy to go in and out quietly if there was a threat of the caliber present. Luckily, Ramattra, Kit, and Celica were here to clean up whatever had threatened Heismay, so that it won’t be an issue for later.

While the ambience of the mill was rather spooky and dark, the glow from Ramattra’s eyes mixed with the light provided by a makeshift torch Kit had assembled in passing through the longer corridors. The group stayed silent, minus the sound of armored/plated steps of steel from Kit and Ramattra, listening out for that ‘horrid breathing sound’ that Heismay described. They crept further and further into what began to open way into what appeared to be some sort of trashed arena, armed to the teeth with traps, the walls adorned with what appeared to be twisted metal and splintered planks of wood, and pieces of obscure treasures (if some of the items scattered about could be called that).

It became increasingly obvious that the three of them were standing in the lair of whatever had spooked Heismay out of the Mill, the trinkets and wares lying around all seemingly hoarded precariously, as if with reason. The air of the situation left even Ramattra uneasy, who couldn’t even quite place his metallic finger on why there was such lingering danger in the air. The Omnic raised his staff to the group, gesturing them to stop before proceeding forward. Just before Kit had lost his foot, Ramattra’s perception was just fast enough to stop the knight by blocking his pathway with his Void Accelerator before he tripped the lever inside a rusted bear trap. Kit looked like he had wanted to say a word of thanks! But… that was quickly interrupted by the low, groan-like breathing that began to creep up on the group… Something was approaching. Its steps were slow at first, as if weighed down by tons and tons of steel, making a racket with every single step of its horrifically shaped metallic legs. Kit was quick to douse out the torch to give some form of advantage to their assault, limiting their vision to the minimal light provided by Ramattra’s red sensors.

In the corner of their vision, the large figure that had occupied this lumber mill began to slowly creep its way parallel to the broken walls and planks that had temporarily concealed the group. It was difficult to coordinate an attack without speaking to one another, but none of them dared to speak and throw away their offense. The three of them shifted, looking at one another for confirmation. When the disfigured man was to pass through, the three of them attacked. The sound of their feet shuffling reverberated throughout the passageway, earning an inquisitive squeak from Scrapbeak as he reached into his abnormally large sack.

Now brandishing a sickle, Scrapbeaks scurried clomps of his feet turned into focused thumps, surveying the area for where his foes may be, whilst avoiding the traps masterfully. There was no possibility this was going to be a streamlined fight, and the second they initiate with Scrapbeak, the masked figure would be locked into a spar to the death. Taking the initiative, Celica summoned her dual pistols and glided across the floor, directly underneath Scrapbeak, firing off pop shots toward his torso. Enraged, Scrapbeak let out a gurgling groan as he stabbed his sickle haphazardly into the floor, trying to slice her. She was able to narrowly avoid being cut, but just as quickly, Ramattra appeared from the shadows to deliver a punishing uppercut in Nemesis form, knocking some of the wind from the enemy, but only achieving a wheeze of pain before Scrapbeak returned his attention to his two attackers, as if deciding which of them he wanted to murder first.

Seeing as Celica was his first assailant, he thought to focus on her first, given that she was the smallest of the group. Scrapbeak’s hobbling suddenly began to turn more into a fast-paced limp as he hunched toward her as she continued to deal whatever damage to him she could. Seeing as he was now RAPIDLY approaching her, his danger level suddenly went from a one to a ten faster than Ramattra was able to shift out of Nemesis form. Celica began to flee to the next room over to regroup their assault, but was now separated from the rest of her comrades. Ramattra was sure she could hold her own, given she was much faster than the monster could keep up with… But suddenly something interesting happened… Rather than chasing after Celica, or more strategically, Ramattra and Kit, who were now closest to him, he began to string a sharp wire throughout the doorways and split pieces of wood, anticipating Celica to chase herself back towards the mess he made and cut herself. This was no murderous, erratic killer. The three of them were playing against a strategic trapper on their home turf.

After setting up wire traps in a matter of seconds, Scrapbeak returned to hunting Celica, his brisk pace leading down a hallway, giving Kit and Ramattra a moment to think. “When it returns, I believe our best tactic for immobilizing it is to lure it to its traps and use that moment of weakness to deal some blows.” Kit finally chipped in. It was a sound strategy, but how would they go about it? The fastest of the three was Celica, and she was probably deep in the mill by now, distracting the monstrosity as it continued to slowly restrict her movement with wires between shredded steel and broken wooden appliances. Once the zipping sounds of wires stopped and the loud, uneven steps of Scrapbeak resumed, to chase after Celica, who was currently trying to find a loop around back to the rest of the group.

“Now we have a moment to strategize,” Ramattra said bluntly as he stood, casting a red glare in the room around him. The two of them discussed how, once Celica returned, the goal was for her to continue drawing Scrapbeak towards her until they got him back inside the room. He wasn’t affected much by their damage, and Ramattra had a theory that the large pack of materials it carried on its back was responsible for “absorbing” a lot of the blows they dealt. They needed to catch it off guard, and the best way to do that was to force him into one of his traps.

Like clockwork, once Kit and Ramattra were familiar with the plan, Celica had begun sliding back into the room from an opposite door, and for a moment, seemed to have lost Scrapbeak. “Wait… I thought he stayed behind with you two?” They lost him. The whole point of their plan was rendered useless, and they were now closed off from the room Celica had entered, unless they felt like dodging sharp wires.

A loud creeping came from the hole that was in a wall nearby, the clangs of metallic steps closing in on the group. They had to play it safe now; if one of them made one wrong step, they were sure to step into a trap and meet their untimely fate. Able to pinpoint where the approaching sound had been coming from, Ramattra quickly entered nemesis form again and approached the hole from the left side, ready to enter a short offense against Scrapbeak. “Remember, if he steps into one of his traps, we have a moment to strike. Got it?”

Ramattra didn’t even let the group answer before Scrapbeak’s steps became more rhythmic, the sound of a blade being removed from his bag once again. This time, it was a small dagger that he crept around the corner of the hole with, Ramattra hiding in the dark just outside of his peripheral vision. When he finally turned out of the hole to investigate the room for Kit and Celica, Ramattra dealt another devastating blow, this time able to knock him back slightly. Along with his attack, Kit threw a firebomb at the hulking figure, igniting his tattered coat and leaving a terrible smell of burnt-mangled flesh in the air. Enraged, Scrapbeak screeched and began hobbling rapidly towards Kit, the contents of his bag rifling around as he grabbed a new weapon, a rusted harpoon spear, which he used to threaten Kit. For a moment, the blade almost clashed into Kit’s arm, but swiftly enough, Celica was able to knock Kit to the ground with a swift kick, avoiding the puncture.

They weren’t going to win like this; there needed to be a way to make the enemy vulnerable, and he was always aware enough to avoid his traps. There needed to be a risk taken, because without him immobilized, there was no chance they could defeat him. That’s when Celica got an idea. Nearby, there stood a blinking red mine on the ground that looked like it was pressure-sensed. With that idea in mind, Celica would need to time her dash into Scrapbeak perfectly to throw him into the mine and eat the explosion. She stood and quickly ran, leaving Kit to deal with Scrapbeak for the time being. While Kit was recovering from being pushed out of the way of Scrapbeak’s harpoon, Ramattra grabbed onto a nearby log with his large fist and slammed it into the side of the mangled man, staggering him yet again, while Celica prepared to rush him into the mine. She was fully prepared to eat the explosion, knowing that most of the damage would be inflicted on their enemy, and that she could simply be healed by the healers back at camp. When Scrapbeak was in position, she dashed from the other side of the room, diving into him while he was vulnerable from being hit by a log.

When Scrapbeak’s side crashed into the mine, an electronic whirring started up, making a sharp blinking noise as a ball full of liquid began dispensing a mysterious liquid into the air. The liquid seemed to slow down the movement of both Celica and Scrapbeak, forming a web of mist and ice. With Scrapbeak vulnerable, Kit and Ramattra took this as a chance to begin a counter-attack, unleashing a flurry of punches and slashes towards Scrapbeak that began to slowly tear open his bag, dropping weapons and pieces of scrap onto the floor. He began to remove his large sack from his bag, probably in an attempt to escape the web that the mine had formed; however, he was quickly dealt with when Celica unleashed a Black Bane attack, using the multitude of ailments inflicted on Scrapbeak to punish him with a final blow. He let out a defeated cry, his mask pointed towards the hole-filled ceiling as he began to slowly turn to dust, allowing the gleaming Ramattra to exit combat. His form switched back to Omnic as he approached the remains of Scrapbeak…



The three of them triumphed for a moment in their victory! This would be a cause to celebrate back at base, especially since the sack of scrap that was left behind could be used to repair and upgrade the stagecoach. “A worthy fight, you two. Very good.” Ramattra complimented, placing his free hands cupped on the shoulders of his new allies. Celica would give Ramattra a cautious yet warm smile at his praise before quickly doubling over and beginning to vomit a bright-blue liquid. Concerned, Kit and Ramattra almost rushed to her aid to ask what was wrong, before she lifted a hand to the two, stopping them. “The robot. Let the robot carry me. Whatever was in that mine…” She could barely finish her sentence between wheezes, but the two of them got the picture. As far as she knew, Kit was human and was able to get infected. That left Kit to carry the large sack for the time being until they got to safety.

Ramattra lifted her with ease, tossing her gently over his shoulder as she lifelessly dangled from lack of strength. What was going to happen to her? Neither of them particularly knew the answer, but the only option they had was to either return to the group or Snowdin. Both Ramattra and Kit thought it wiser to seek out Warden Rust, who might be able to provide some insight. Carrying their heavy cargo on their backs, they exited the Mill and asked their inquiry. “Well. I ain’t much one for rumors, but that Manor atop the mountain? Some police officer had been sticking his nose around up there, looking for some sort of weapon. A weapon that makes diseases. I’m unsure as to where he is now, but…” he pulled at his beard for a moment in contemplation. “I’d imagine you could find him back at that quaint little town, but that’s quite a walk.” Another moment of pulling his beard before he spoke. “But yknow. I did happen to come across quite an interesting object if you’d be interested.”

He gestured for the group to follow them, leading them around the side of the mill, revealing a large sled nearby mounted by two abnormally large wolves. “I’ve no clue where it came from. It wasn’t here when you lot passed through earlier; however, I don’t see the harm in using it if you return it. And trust me, I will make sure it gets returned.” Rust seemed to have a good sense of morals, and with very few options for transportation, they were left to take the sled.



Once they arrived in Snowdin, they quickly made their way to the inn, hoping that whoever might have information on what had been inflicted on Celica was staying the night here. The odd clerk at the front desk was shuffling papers when Ramattra burst through the door with the ill woman on his shoulder, startling her from her work before Ramattra began speaking immediately. “Is there an officer here?” He asked plainly, making sure the urgency of the situation was noted. The creature seemed concerned for a moment, unsure if he should provide the information. Ramattra repeated himself, the annoyance in his voice more apparent. Is. There. An. Officer. Here? He hoped his threatening tone would be enough to wriggle the information he needed, and he seemed to get lucky, because the closer he got to the stairs leading to the inn’s rooms, he got intimidated and blurted out that he was in the 3rd room.

When they got to the room, Kit would knock on the door for Ramattra, hoping that there would be an answer. Silence. With another knock, the door was flung open by a rugged man who seemed to have been disturbed by their late intrusion. “What the hell is your problem?” He asked sternly. It was hard to tell if the expression on his face was natural or an expression of annoyance. This was a no-nonsense guy who had had a long day. Before Ramattra could answer, Chris noticed the hunched girl over his shoulder, ill in the face with blue liquid dripping from her mouth. He stared for a moment, letting the quiet sift over the group before sighing and gesturing for them to come inside.

“She’s going to be fine.” Christ started speaking, rifling through a large metallic case of empty syringes. He waved at Ramattra to leave her in his bed. “It’s only contagious through internal contact, so all of us will be fine as well. Damn, I really should have had that rookie look into this sooner.” He grumbled as he procured a silver syringe still with the plunger intact. “I can only save so many people from this damned virus, so it’s pertinent you tell me where she got infected.” Ramattra and Kit would debrief their fight with Scrapbeak, and how, when they took it out, a mysterious liquid had sprayed into the air. Sighing, Chris stood over the girl, quickly administering the shot into her forearm. “Well. Like I said, she’ll be okay. But she can’t stay here. The cure won’t fully do its job for a couple of weeks, and my mission lies wherever I can purge that virus. I’m sure the shopkeeper next door would be willing to let you stay and collect your bearings.” With that, Ramattra, Kit, and Celica departed for the building next door, where the kind sister of the innkeeper allowed them to stay in a spare bedroom while Celica rested. The innkeeper had offered to care for Celica until she was well again, but Kit decided to speak up. “She saved my skin back there. I can stay and help the shopkeeper care for her in the meantime.”

Ramattra tried to convince Kit to leave her and return to the seekers as best he could. “You are a valuable asset to the team. What I saw in combat back there would be useful for the coming battles.” Kit simply shook his head at the request. There was still part of him that was human after all.

“No. While my time with the Seekers was important, I cannot in good faith leave an ill person alone. I’ve sinned far too much before.” Kit turned to Celica, who now rested semi-peacefully atop a silk-sheeted bed with a bag of hot water on top of her head.

“... So be it.” There was a hint of annoyance as Ramattra collected the belongings of Scrapbeak on his back, tossing a small sack of gold coins he gathered from claiming the manor on a nearby bedside. While Ramattra was rather curt, he respected Kit’s valiance and would see to it that he was rewarded for his efforts. “Then may your adventures from here on treat you well, Kit the Chosen Undead.” He turned out of the door and began to make his way back to the sled, so that he could regroup with the team.
Ramattra

Level 7 - EXP 8/70
Words: 813 // +2 EXP
Mysterious Lumber Mill - The Frozen Highlands



As the group gathered back inside the safety of the hulking transportation vehicle… rather primitive looking. Ramattra was weary of their well-being inside the confines of this machine, but since it was where his new acquaintances had conducted operations, it gave him little choice but to enter the vehicle with the rest of the crew, minding his head on the entrance as he planted himself atop a poorly cushioned pillow. Despite these conditions, Ramattra reminded himself of his teachings away from physical attachment and that his mind being clouded of… discomfort, would distract him from his goals. He shook his thoughts away silently as he folded his staff across his lap and listened to the briefing that was provided. With very little introduction, it was clear to the Omnic that this human, Sandalphon, was in charge of the major orders the group took after.

As they detoured to the west, Ramattra tried not to feel crowded in the midst of the teams recruits. How big exactly was this entire operation? And what was their intent in this frozen stretch of land? Many questions lingered in the back of the Omnic’s head as he listened to the quick debriefing, and distant speaking that occurred once the group had arrived at the seemingly abandoned lumber mill… odd how the man who stayed outside was not the owner… What horrors lied inside for such a poetic warning? Best not to think of it for the time being. Ramattra could certainly come back later in search for anything of importance, or maybe… just maybe discover some of the secrets inside of the mill, considering it seemed like it was shrouded in the most uncertainty.

Many of the group opted to explore the woods to acquire some of the local “magical” wildlife to assist with transportation, leaving Ramattra and the rest of the group with some freedom to conduct their own exploration while the majority was busy. It seemed that the companion Ramattra had met earlier, Heismay, quickly scurrying out of the mill the stagecoach had just left, had quickly investigated portions of the building, though he seemed only to have made it out with some sort of… wooden trinket. Surely this location was not that hopeless that all his bat-like companion could find was some wooden doo-dad that had some unspecified purpose. But with the way he retreated and only made it out with that… Gave Ramattra the feeling that this landmark had secrets that were more-than-meets-the-eye. With a curt nod, he turned towards his remaining companions, whoever those may be. “If you feel… interested in accompanying me, I feel that the abandoned facility serves some importance. I will travel back to investigate.” It was an open invite to any of the remaining group members, though the Omnic would still pursue his interests in the building whether alone or with allies.

As the group began to part and complete their own objectives, Ramattra stood from his seat in the coach, clutching his staff closely as he sighed. Though he was able to stomach (no irony intended) the rather bumpy ride across the snowy landscape, Ramattra found himself grateful that he would find himself out of its company for a short amount of time. With the sound of metal on metal reverbing throughout the hull of the stagecoach, Ramattra exited elegantly, raising the hood of his monk garbs over his head against the blisteringly cold winds of the open snowfields where his newfound allies chased and wrangled the nearby Reindrix. He turned away from the group, and began making his march towards the mill once again, hopefully to return with more information, rather than useless trinkets.

Ram looked at the pathway they had exited from, walking back inside of the building to explore its confines, examining the rugged, rustic, and rather messy interior of the first door he found himself in. It was unusual that he had missed this landmark on his travels here, though his general sense of direction seemed to be thrown all the way off already. His hand gently brushed against the wood on the walls of the building, as if to examine the age through touch. Reminded that he was now inside suddenly, Ramattra lowered his hood from his head, providing a bit more visibility to his surroundings. Whatever chased Heismay out of the building was still inside, so the Omnic had to be on full alert. Ramattra picked up any odds and ends he could find to examine them, but the result turned out to be the same nearly every single time; useless. Junk. “Huhm. I suppose the small member was moving rather fast. Maybe wherever he found that stick could be deeper…” The Omnic couldn’t help but feel weary about travelling deeper secretly, but the more information they get about the area, the better for both Ramattra and the party,
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