@Lugubrious@Dawnrider@thedman@DracoLunaris

---

Unfortunately Linkle wasn't able to scrounge up anything useful from inside the cabin and was quickly forced to conclude her search as the repairs started to become truly underway. She did find something in the other car though; a bottle full of some sickly smelling brown liquid that she poured onto the thirsty died because it was probably poison or cursed or something.

She kept the bottle though. There was nothing more useful on a legendary adventure than an empty bottle.

As she was making her way back to where the repairs were rapidly proceeding she spotted the bear and bird lifting the crushed remains of her bike into the back of that strange trolley cart of theirs. As they lifted the front end she grimaced as the majestic horse head on the front listed sadly to the side and seemed to give her an accusing look.

"No, it's okay." She called out in reply to the bear. "I was gonna hang around, keep an eye on Jr in case more karts come around. Thanks for recovering my bike though." Given the chance Jr would probably use it for parts like he was every other wreck around here. Maybe this way there was a chance she could have it put back together. "You're a cool guy, Bear."

It only made since, she thought to herself as they rolled off. Nobody that liked birds enough to carry one around in his pack like that could be anything less than good people.

---

As time wore on and no enemy attacks were forthcoming Linkle started focussing less on watching out and more on clumsily practicing with that sword in the shade of the truck.

Sword in one hand, spider shield held in the other, she swung and spun with all the grace of a rampaging hippopotamus. She was at least as dangerous as a toddler with a kitchen knife, but it was clear this was getting her nowhere.

She stopped for a rest, leaning against the side of the truck and watching Michael hanging out around the dispencer, as Blazermate called it. She quirked an eyebrow as she saw him excitedly whoop and start holding things in front of the machine. Curiously she got a bit closer and saw him putting the weird metal cartridges into his coat. Then, seeming from her proximity, the dispensar powered to life and began coughed up a bundle of those weird blocky arrows, about six in total.

"Oh, it gives you ammo too." She said, even more impressed with the thing. "I wonder how it knows how to make arrows?"

---

The repair turned out to go quicker than expected, and soon enough everybody left had piled in to the interior of the new and improved monster kart and set out to the town the rest of the convoy had headed off to.

As they pulled up to the grey building Linkle realized that they were rolling up in a monster that had been stealing spirits out the wazoo. She wondered if their was some way to make it clear that they weren't headhunters like the previous owner, that they had just killed him...and...stolen his kart.

As Michael pulled up to the stop and hopped out to talk with Franklin Linkle pulled herself up on top of the thing to get a commanding view of their surroundings. Red eyed people littered the stop, but that didn't concern her to much. The rabbits, after all, weren't that bad. So long as they didn't cause trouble, and Galeems pet hand didn't decide to throw them a curve ball, they would be fine.

As she looked around she spotted the remains of her bike laid in the entrance of one of the buildings. Jumping down and seeing truly inside the building she spotted all kinds of tools and machines lining the walls. If must have been some kind of tool shop. Maybe she could find someone here to fix he bike.

But the more important thing to catch her eyes wasn't her bike or the tools. It was laying in the back of the garage. She quickly ran inside with no mind as to whether the buildings owner cared about tresspass, like a hero would, and approached the thing just to confirm what she was seeing.

"Whoa!" She said. It was a bird, like a hawk or something, but made of metal. A new type of robot, or maybe a Blade like Poppy said she was. Whatever he was it was apparent he wasn't in good shape if he were just left lying around here. Birds didn't just lie around if there was nothing wrong.

She opened her mouth to call out to it, then remembered what species her was. She laid her rabbit ears back on her head and pulled her hood up and over to hide them. Then, safe in the knowledge she wasn't prey, started to speak. "Hello? Mr. bird? Coo coo coo?" She said gently. "Can you make a noise for me?"

Seeing this guy and this state really reminded her of her boys, lost in this big mashed up world somewhere all alone with no one to care for them.

Linkle thought about it. When a Cucco got hurt you were supposed to put it in a dark, secure place. She looked around. For a bird this big this place was really dark and secure. Next, you needed to keep it hydrated. She stepped outside, looking around for any water. She saw a wet patch of ground and followed it back to a dripping spiget set into the wall of the garage. Smiling, she went over and twisted the knop. A torrent of water poured out, and she filled up her new bottle before turning the water back off. She went back inside, dipped her fingers into the bottle and letting the water drip off them into the birds mouths just like she did when one of her cuccos was too sick to drink. She did this am few times. It was a good start, but was it good enough? After all, he wasn't just a bird. He was a robot too.

Or a Blade.

"I'll be right back. You don't go anywhere." She said to it, standing back up and stepping back out into the sun to look for...

"Poppi, Tora!" She shouted, spotting them. "I need your help. When Poppi gets hurt what do you guys do? I found this passed out metal bird. I only know how to help with the bird part, I've got no clue what to do with the metal part."

@Gentlemanvaultboy @Archmage MC @Lugubrious

Din stayed around the kart repair out in the desert, watching with mounting curiosity the expertise with which the karts were being repaired, and the mind-boggling technology that went into it. Hyrule had many ruins filled with ancient, magical technology, but only heroes were brave enough to plunder those depths and come out with amazing, usable tools. All this went way over Din's head, but it intrigued her nonetheless. Still, she held back and let the do their work, as she knew nothing about this technology and could contribute little. But as the karts were fixed, the team was ready to follow the others who had gone on ahead, so Din mounted Gogoat and rode beside the karts.

It seemed the ones who had arrived early were talking with the locals and getting a quick snack. Din decided to stick close to Linkle. Though something about this stop seemed more mundane that the land they were in before they had arrived at Peach's castle with all its floating blocks and smiling clouds, it still reeked of technology, and the look of the denizens proved it. Linkle, for her part, had her attention drawn towards an mechanical bird-man with a missing hand. Din tried to help Linkle as best she could, moving the eagle maverick, but Linkle's method of treating ailing cucco's did not seem to be working. As Linkle went off to find Tora and Poppi, Din thought instead of Blazermate, who was also a robot, and Din recalled overhearing Blazermate talk about fighting in robot competitions and healing her teammates. It seemed strange that Blazermate's beam could heal humans and machines, but Din felt Blazermate would be the direct solution when it came to helping this majestic bird. Din headed back to the kart with the dispenser in it, expecting to find Blazermate near it. "Blazermate?" Din called out, "Linkle found an injured...robot, and is trying to revive it. Think you can help?"

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (17/30) EXP
Location: Small Town
Word Count: 455

---

Earlier-@Gentlemanvaultboy

Agoston looked down at Linkle after she chastised him for swiftly eliminating Grimm. "Never give your enemy the chance to strike you first. Kicking people while they are down is the best way to make sure your kicks land true. We fight for honor, not with honor. Those foolish men and women who believed in such naive fantasies are long dead where I come from. Victory is the ultimate goal, how one gets there is irrelevant." Happy with his "advice", Agoston strode away before the young hero could say anything at the time.

Hammerhead-@thedman

Centurion was immediately suspicious of the mechanic and the town's inhabitants. Everyone else he had met thus far was under Galeem's control in one way or another. The Centurion himself had fallen under the false god's control. Were it not for the pink pillow creature named Kirby, he would probably be some sort of creepy anti-Agoston puppet, wandering the wastes right now. The armored warrior shuddered at the scale of the tremendous loss of free will. This was a wrong that must be made right!

As such, Agoston stayed on the outskirts of town, searching for any sign of trouble. The group had grown somewhat. New members were being picked up all the time. The thought of not knowing half the members of this party made Agoston uncomfortable. Normally he would be asserting some authority over those he fought with. But this was a land of great warriors from all sorts of impossible places, and the Centurion sensed he would not be able to get them in line like he could a group of common peasants. So ultimately, they were to be left to their own devices. On the other hand, it felt good to be among peers. Rarely did he ever meet a warrior of his own caliber back in the Southern Empire. If he did, usually they were a Viking, or Samurai. Hopefully this relative lack of group cohesion wouldn't be an issue. Fortunately he had never seen a group of individuals so singularly focused on a task, as much as they enjoyed dilly dallying he must admit they always came through in the end. It would take months to train peasants to be so willing to throw away their life for a greater good.

Centurion ended up hovering a distance back from where Micheal and Franklin were. Lost in his own thoughts, Centurion shook himself out of his self-reflecting stupor and perked up. It seemed the gun-toting pair had noticed an old acquaintanced of theirs. While Franklin had proven to be a valuable sharpshooter asset to the cause, he didn't exactly come quietly. Thus, the Centurion "stealhily" observed what was happening from about 50 yards away.

---

Gene listened on as the fellow white haired guy prattled on about how dangerous and spooky the Qliphoth place was. Demons and zombies, huh? He'd beaten the hell out of a metric fuck ton of demons on his journey, not to mention he capped it off by killing their king. This guy didn't know who he was talking to about demons and danger.

With a cocky grin, Gene cracked his knuckles and rolled his head around to pop his neck. "Leave it to the professionals, huh? Well, I'll have you know that in my world, I'm sort of an expert of punching, kicking, and generally beating the hell out of demons. I even beat the Demon King Angra!" A pause, followed by his cocky grin turning to a more sheepish one. "... Though that was with a huge power boost I don't have anymore."

He shook his head. What was he saying? He had the moves to beat up demons! And zombies? Pffft, they weren't any problem! "Besides, our group is chock full of experts at kicking ass! They should call us Team Kickass we're so good at it! You guys could tag along and we can head straight for that Qliphoth and beat up some demons!" Talking wasn't his strong suit, but he hoped what he said could maybe, just maybe, convince at least the white haired punk to come along. Gene felt that they were kindred spirits of some sort.

@Gentlemanvaultboy @Lugubrious @Archmage MC

Linkle’s arrival in the very same garage currently under perusal by Tora did not go unnoticed, although one wouldn’t know it just by looking at him. The Nopon did not look up from his meticulous examination of every single thing in a toolbox, even as his friend came upon something she found just as fascinating. However, she eventually approached him and his Blade partner after some bustling to and fro, awash with questions. “Er, Poppi not get hurt,” he said, rather incredulous, forgetting that his world’s common knowledge wasn’t so common here. After a moment of awkward silence, he added some explanation. “All Blades regenerate using ether from any injury to the body. Though Poppi, as artificial blade, need other repairs.” Curious as to what sort of ‘metal bird’ would warrant information about Blades, he followed Linkle to the back end of the garage.

There, he found the inert form of Storm Eagle. Fairly impressive as machines went, it bore no trace of real life, as well as no resemblance to a blade. Tora took this in at a glance, and wasted little time letting his friend know. “Linky-Linky not need water, meh. While look like bird, is one-hundred-percent robot. Not real blade, and since Tora not recognize family work, cannot be artificial either. Only Tora, grampypon Soosoo, and daddypon Tatazo can create artificial blade.” This last line he delivered with a fair amount of pride. “Mehmeh, here guide for machine for friend Linky-Linky. If outside or inside damaged, need new parts. If in good shape but do nothing, need power. If powered-on but unable to function, need programs. Afraid more easy to say than do, meh.” While talking, Tora waddled over to the robot and ran a quick inspection. Storm Eagle had, judging by the repair job involving similar but not original components and materials, been damaged at some point, but it appeared physically sound. Poppi, meanwhile, wandered away after giving Linkle a warm smile. Clearly the blade’s change in appearance did nothing to dull her memory of the arbalest’s kind words last night.

Blazermate meanwhile was still at the newly finished truck, seeing just what her new building could do. As she watched as Bowser Jr. Michael, and Franklin put the finishing touches on their newly constructed monster truck. When they finished up, Blazermate put her dispenser on the back of the truck and they made their way down to where everyone else had gone; a truck stop occupied by non hostile Galeem entities. There were a lot of interesting people here, with various allies chatting with who they were interested in. ”Glad that there are some semi-friendly faces out here.” Blazermate said to herself. As Blazermate was looking over Captain Falcon; who she thought looked like a solo sentai hero, and what was essentially a 4 person boy band; which she was fairly indifferent to as they looked ‘too’ pretty, Din came up to Blazermate and asked for some assistance healing a robot.

”Oh sure. I did heal some others like these guys at the castle and they turned into allies. Lets just hope this goes well too.” Blazermate replied, following Din to the garage where Tora, Poppi, and the patient Storm Eagle were waiting. Tora seemed to be looking over the inactive robot, showing lots of curiosity but otherwise wasn’t really trying to repair or activate the downed robot. ”Tora, I guess you can’t repair robots huh? Isn’t Poppi a robot? Or are you more a mechanic and less an engineer? Blazermate said, curious as to why the onion bird wasn’t doing much of anything considering the mechanical skills he showed earlier when making the karts for the convoy. Blazermate did put her healing beam on Storm Eagle just the same, as she was asked to by Din. After all, it would be faster for her to heal this medabot than it would for Tora to take him apart and put him back together again anyway. Her scanners didn’t tell him that he was all that injured or was missing his medal, so she just healed him a little and used her Revive on him to wake him up.

Tora’s annoyed look at Blazermate was so heavy it could be felt. “Just did not start yet! Have to look over before open up. Can’t just charge in like crazed Armu. And Poppi not just robot. Meh-meh…” With exasperation he watched as the Medabot tried to heal him. Even if her beam had been meant to heal hardware rather than flesh, however, it didn’t do much good. Storm Eagle appeared to be fine in terms of physical state, but according to inference as well as Tora’s flow chart, he lacked power. Blazermate’s scanner revealed a compartment in the robot’s core, presumably for some kind of solid fuel, that currently held nothing.

Linkle had started running down that list Tora had given her. “Right, so if Blazers’s beam isn't waking him up that means he okay. We just need to give him some power. Maybe Din could dance for him, that seemed like it gave everybody some power before. Or, hmmm.” She rested her hand on her chin and thought. When she was feeling out of power she liked to eat a good meal, that gave her tons of power for the next day. “What do robots eat?”

“If robot have no power, cannot observe dance, no matter how good.” Though unfortunate in not having spent as much time with Din as with Linkle during his adventure thus far, Tora could attest to the quality of her dancing. “As for robot ‘food’, they take things with power in them. Can be batteries full of zappy-zappy, or stuff like ether crystals with power inside them. If Tora had ‘Tiger! Tiger!’ could get some pretty easy, but no luck.”

”Yeah, dancing probably wouldn’t help in this case,” Din said, pondering the discussion. She knew very little about ‘power sources’, other than, perhaps, magical ones, but she didn’t have any on hand, nor did she have the ability to generate magical power. She also didn’t know if magic could be used to power this kind of technology. But looking around the garage, she saw plenty of other machines laying about. ”Do you think any of those might have a power source we could use?” Din asked, gesturing at the other high tech vehicles.

“Oh, that’s right!” Linkle said, pounding her fist into her palm. Din pointing out the other vehicles in the garage had been just what she needed. “Junior and Franklin made sure the karts were full of something last night.” She walked over to the nearest other vehicle in the garage and began walking around it, looking for something. “There should be a cap or a door or something like that. Maybe we could ask the old man out there for some? Old men are usually helpful.”

Tora considered telling the girls that the other vehicles and machines weren’t theirs, and their contents not free for the taking, but he didn’t particularly care to. Poppi spoke up when Linkle mentioned Hammerhead’s owner, however. “Mister Cid-Cid very helpful. If friend think he will help, then go ask him. Should be just outside.”

”I agree with Tora then. I’m only used to fixing Medabots. If this guy isn’t a Medabot, then I don’t know how to help him myself. My scanner says he has his medal, but medals are also what give me power so… Yeah.” Blazermate said, putting away her healing beam and shrugging. ”And saying that, I’d have no idea what kind of fuel he’d need. Robots in my world run on Medals, not ‘fuel’.”

While Linkle stepped out to find Cid, Tora continued to mull over the problem at hand. He looked over the bird machine’s exhaust ports, ultimately tracing the power lines back to a port in its chest. After a few moments of thought, he turned to Poppi and asked, “Could Poppi maybe spare one of own ether crystals? Would like to try something.”

“Sure!” Smiling, Poppi opened up her furnace and casually removed a crystal. Tora took the glowing orange stone and held it in his wing a moment. His companion’s ether furnace simulated the natural ability of blades to intake ether from the atmosphere. In her case, the ether was condensed and then melted down for use as power. Each piece held a lot of energy, so it stood to reason that it might be able to power this robot, too. Of course, Tora, didn’t really expect it to, since most machines needed a specific sort and dosage of energy, but nevertheless he placed the crystal into the port gingerly.

The gem zipped inside, energizing instantly, and Storm Eagle’s eyes shot open. With a “MEHMEHMEH!?” of surprise Tora stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding getting clubbed by the robot master’s blaster arm. The Nopon reached for his weapons, but his attacker proved faster. Poppi, however, was faster still. “Masterpon!” Her boosters blasted her forward, and she bodily shoved Tora out of the way, taking the weight of Storm Eagle’s talon’s herself. Sparks flew and Poppi hit the ground, severe slices across her back. Tora bounced to his feet, horror plastered on his features. “Poppi!?” His Mech Arms at the ready, he charged forward without restraint, taking shot after shot from Storm Eagle’s blaster. By the time he reached Poppi, he could do little but pant and stand over her, arms poised for defense. Storm Eagle eyed the two cruelly. With Poppi stuck regenerating and Tora’s weapons and defenses depowered, he’d be easy prey. A couple flaps of its wings brought it into the air, ready for a deadly divebomb.

Din and Blazermate ducked for cover when the robot bird went berserk immediately upon waking. Din thought of the spigot from which Linkle had drawn in her attempt to revive the unconscious bird. Looking towards the spigot, Din saw that there were a few tufts of grass huddled near the water source. Din felt the best way to deal with this current dangerous situation was to restrain the rampaging maverick, so she cast the Spell of Spring on the grass, forcing it to grow up in a messy tangle in hopes of binding the flying robot and taking away its mobility advantage. This also had the unfortunate consequence of uprooting the pump altogether, breaking it, and causing water to spray upwards. Meanwhile, Gogoat, who Din had left near the party’s other vehicles, sensed that its trainer was in peril, and came racing to Din’s side. Since the nearby ground was now grassy thanks to Din’s first spell, Gogoat felt slightly tougher than usual, and felt behooved to intercept any attacks that might be aimed at Din or her allies.

Seeing Din distract Storm Eagle, Blazermate made her way out of the garage, healing Tora whenever he was in her line of sight, to go grab her sentry gun from the back of the Bowsermobile. While she could try to make another one, it would be better to just move a fully upgraded one instead of making one from scratch. With Din’s Pokemon passing her on her way out, Blazermate flew to the back of the Bowsermobile and packed up her sentry gun, walking back to the garage due to how heavy the gun itself was even packed up.

Linkle ran back around the corner. The second she left and everything went crazy. She saw the metal bird diving toward Tora and Poppi with the nearby grass springing up after it. She looked over to Din, was able to grasp the intent instantly, and sprinted forward at full speed toward Tora and Poppi. She jumped over, flipped in the air, and shot down with her foot wreathed in flames to try and break the metal birds momentum to both steer him off of her defenceless allies and make him easier to entangle. “Bad bird, that’s not food!”

Her fiery boot knocked Storm Eagle out of its dive, redirected it toward the floor instead. It skidded across the ground for a ways before smacking headlong into a utility desk. Tools and parts scattered with a tremendous clatter, but the robot rose to its feet without serious damage. Tora, refreshed by Blazermate’s medibeam, turned about and tended to Poppi. The artificial blade, deprived of the ether to mend herself with, struggled to take it in from her surroundings and repair the damage dealt by her adversary. She did, however, remember something when she saw Din’s gogoat. After grabbing a sphere from a compartment, she pressed the button to release her croagunk in a flash of light. The frog appeared between her and Storm Eagle, confused and ornery, while Tora prepared to defend himself. The robot master raised his gale cannon for another blast at the pair and their pet, still more than able to lay on the hurt. For its part, the croagunk did not appear eager to leap to their defense. Blazermate wouldn’t be back from retrieving her sentry for at least another ten seconds.

Storm eagle wasn’t the only one raising a blaster. Linkle had the Bwaa Blaster in her fist, pointing right at him as she landed. She fired, hoping that the bouncing that had incapacitated Junpei would knock some sense into this bird.

Her shot struck its target, but without triggering a bouncing effect. Angry, Storm Eagle turned his attention on Linkle, unleashing his gale cannon again and again as the limber arbalest dodged. In no time at all he made a mess of the garage, but she held his attention long enough for the absent Medabot to return with her cargo.

Blazermate soon returned with her sentry gun in tow, a large toolbox hoisted over her shoulder holding the machine. As Storm Eagle was distracted by her allies, Blazermate put the sentry down and began the accelerated construction process. As the gun was building, only taking about 8 seconds to fully build, Blazermate got behind Tora and used him like a shield as she healed the injured. Of course this was mostly Tora, but he was a tanky lil’ onion bird. And once that sentry finished building, even attempting to fly for Storm Eagle would be a death sentence, although the robot master not finding cover was also a death sentence.

Recognizing his ally’s turret for the trump card it would be if fully erected, Tora moved to defend it before Storm Eagle could take it down. Poppi joined him, channeling what ether she could gather, and the first blast glanced harmlessly off her masterpon’s barrier. “Hah! Birdypon want try again?” With the garage in disarray already, he felt better about launching a few micro-missiles from the Mech Arms, which burst against Storm Eagle with disorienting force. The metal of its body appeared to be highly advanced, however, and sustained little damage. After observing this, Tora got a bad feeling, but the next second Blazermate’s turret went operational. With three high-pitched beeps it locked onto the robot master and dutifully began plugging away. The bullets compacted on contact, leaving dents but not inflicting nearly the carnage that Blazermate envisioned. Storm Eagle might have charged straight into it if a volley of missiles from the sentry didn’t hit it head-on a moment later. The lull allowed the grassy tendrils from Din’s spell to wrap around it, stalling it for a moment. It was then that Poppi’s croagunk attacked for the first time, launching a Poison Sting of its own accord that appeared to have no effect.

Tora furrowed his brow. He needed more firepower, a single concentrated blast to get through Storm Eagle’s armor. Once an opening appeared, Linkle and Blazermate could finish it off, but not before. “Poppi Alpha,” he called. “Time to shine!”

Sparks flew and ribbons whirled as Poppi reconfigured. A moment, the familiar visage of Poppi’s original self had returned. “Alpha by name, alpha by nature!” The Mech Arms dissolved and were replaced by the Drill Shield, into which she pumped a dangerous amount of ether. Tora took aim and, a moment later, let fly with a huge Jet Biter from the shield’s core. The toothed cannonball struck true, blowing apart the outer layer of Storm Eagle’s armor and leaving him vulnerable. Tora knew better than to celebrate, though. Instead, he caught Poppi as she fell, starved of ether and inert. “Tora and Poppi out of commission,” he warned. “Better end fight, now!”

With the armor removed from Storm Eagle, Blazermate’s turret really held the maverik in place with its rapid fire (by pinning him to a wall) as Linkle attacked. "Sorry birdie!" Linkle cried, dropping the blaster to the floor and drawing out both her crossbows. The tips of the bows flashed green as she leveled the weapons square at his chest and just held the triggers down. Boot after bolt poured out of the bows in and endless stream.

Once she saw him stagger under the weight of it she dashed forward. The bow in her right hand flashed red as she shot a bomb right into his chest, swung around the other bow to shoot one more normal bolt, ending it with a flaming back kick.

Linkle’s barrage of bolts penetrated Storm Eagle’s exposed circuitry, actuators, and structure, inflicted heavy damage, but it wasn’t until her bomb and finishing kick that something in the robot’s body just gave out. Staggering backward, it slumped against the wall and to the floor. The impact shook a wrench free of its hook, which fell down and bopped it on the head, but Storm Eagle was already offline. Ashes started to fall from its chassis, and in the cavity left in its chest, a sparking spirit materialized.

Tora breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like is down for count, meh.” Beside him, the croagunk gave an annoyed ribbit before crouching down beside her own master. Its face suggested callous disinterest, but the fact that it seemed to care about her condition suggested something different.

“We were just trying to help him.” Linkle said sadly, bending over with her hands on her knees to rest. She pulled out the remainder of that water she’d been drip feeding it, grimaced at it, then downed about half in one go before wiping her mouth with her arm. “I hope we meet a robot that isn’t trying to kill us soon.”

Din was surprised by the efficient ruthlessness in which Linkle dispatched the robot bird, given that the green-clad hero had been trying to nurse it back to health only moments before. Granted, Din understood that Linkle might have felt protective of Tora and Poppi, and the bird had been the aggressor, but Din wondered how she would react if she was a mechanical weapon who was just woken up by a sudden surge of energy? As she approached the deactivated machine, she could see its soul clearly in the hole the Linkle had carved out of it. The soul then flew out towards Din, and a thought filled her head, something about 'reploids' and 'mavericks', being unfairly seen as dangerous; who yearned for freedom and self-determination. The soul seemed to resonate with Din due to her sympathizing with it's plight. On the other hand, Din pondered on her general uselessness when it came to fights. She had gotten a little stronger thanks to her new pokemon partner, but Gogoat had been useful against Needles only when Sweet Tooth was on the ground. The fact that this machine could fly majestically and blast gale-force winds from its arm seemed like a way for Din to diversify her usefulness. She had hitherto refused to take a soul of the fallen for herself, but she felt a strange connection with this one. The soul hovered in her palms as she brought it to her chest, absorbing it.

Moving with mechanical precision, the barkeeper served the Courier, then Hat Kid, then Bowser. While he said nothing, he made it clear by writing figures on a chalkboard behind the counter that the new customers had just started their very own tabs. If they didn't pay today, they would need to settle the tabs some other time. Hat Kid, though got her water for free; if anything, Fire Man seemed eager to be rid of the stuff for more than a few seconds. When the Courier got his booze, he found the top of it momentarily alight, no doubt thanks to the server's fiery personality. The koopa king's order required that the robot master duck into the back room for a while, but he reappeared with the food soon enough. Before Bowser was placed a pair of perfectly standard burgers, exactly alike and lacking heart, as well as a bunch of fries stacked like logs.

All the while, 6's poker game with the dogs proceeded in an interesting fashion. As it turned out, the dogs' understanding of the game and their ability to play it left a lot to be desired. Things took a while to happen, and while the long-necked pup cheated unabashedly by looking at other players' cards, he didn't seem to spend even a solitary moment considering his own hand. The pot, a pile of dog treats, drifted the practiced Courier's way steadily.

Outside, the sudden influx of new arrivals only halted Hammerhead's activity momentarily. With Gene having broken the tension, the party of young men parted ways with the white-haired swordsman and his friend, and the Regalia pulled out of the station to head northward. For better or worse, the adventurous foursome would be heading to the Dead Zone too. The punk watched them go with a resigned, mildly exasperated look while Gene made his case. When he finished, a honk resounded from his friend's van, since he'd been about to get in before Gene stopped him. Glancing at the God Hand, he told him, “Never heard of this Angra demon. But like I said, if you and your friends want to be heroes, be my guest. I've got business to attend to.”

The woman leaned out of the window. “Great job Nero” she said, grinning, “Y'ain't talked a single soul outta runnin' in there 'n gettin' killed. But hey, didja consider that this whole worlds collidin' dealeo might mean there's more people who can slap demons around?” She turned her eyes on Gene. “Maybe we don't gotta do this thing alone. If we got people kickin' though the fodder, ya got a clear shot at that throne-sittin' sonuva.”

Nero's face darkened. “I'm not gonna hang back and let other people do my work for me. When I send that bastard to hell, Dante's gonna eat his words.”

Gene listened in on what the country chick was saying, pondering her words. Seemed like she was at least open to the idea of inviting more people along to head to that Qliphoth place, though the white haired punk, Nero apparently, was still reluctant. Almost sounded a bit bitter even. "Oh come on, uh, Nero! I don't doubt that you can kill demons by the dozen, but you said it yourself, the place is dangerous. Having some back up wouldn't be too bad, right? And hey, that 'throne sitting guy' is all yours once we get to him. What do you say?"

Looking downright annoyed at this point, Nero seemed ready to just walk away, but after a moment he sighed instead. “If you're that dead-set on it, fine. But Urizen's all mine. Got it?”

Gene grinned, practically ready to break out into song and dance at that. But he kept his composure, instead giving a nod as a reply. "Got it. So uh... When we heading out?"

With a shrug, Nero replied, “Right now. If your buddies are headed to the city, tell 'em to get moving.”

Gene nodded, prepared to go tell his companions about the journey to the Qliphoth, only to suddenly remember something...hey were heading to the Land of Adventure. “Oh crap oh crap oh crap! Play it cool Gene, play it cool... You can figure this out! It's not like this little adventure will take that long, right? Just in an out, twenty minutes tops! ... Hopefully.” He continued on his way to where most of the group was holed up, and spoke up so they could hear him. "Hey, guys, it's me, Gene, you all know me... I don't wanna say well, but a bit. I met this dude named Nero, and he's planning on heading to the Dead Zone to take down this spooky thing called the Qliphoth. I'm planning on going, so if any of you wanna join us, you're all free to!" Well, he hoped that at least some people would accompany him. He didn't imagine they'd appreciate it if he just up and left them without saying a word.

---

The sudden activation of a dormant robot master following an examination from Tora, Poppi, Linkle, Din, and Blazermate led to a brief but furious brawl, thoroughly messing up the interior of the garage in which it took place and leaving Poppi barely functional. Cid and Cindy were taken aghast, especially by Tora's involvement, after he seemed so enthused to be at Hammerhead. Peach, while clearly lacking patience, apologized on behalf of the miscreants and offered to cover the damages out of the royal treasury, but once he came to understand the situation, Cid waved her offer off. “Accidents happen,” he assured her. “All the same, iffen yer crew's done refuelin' 'n such, y'might roll on t'wherever yer headed.” His dubious glance at Junior and friends' repaired Brother Grimm made it clear that the heavily-armed cohort made him uneasy.

In short order, the heroes would embark once again, albeit with a few losses. Most of the rabbids elected to continue no further, being far from home and uninterested in a long campaign. The Buckler, by far the most intelligent among them, knew that the long, dangerous journey would sooner or later spell the end of the whole rabbid pack. As such, only two ziggies and three jumpers remained with the heroes, but the others' departure didn't mean that the separate crews might not meet again someday.

Compared to the morning's journey, the last leg of the trip seemed to fly by. The southbound road brought the remaining vehicles of the convoy out of the dusty, rocky waste, through a briar-strewn brushland, and toward greener pastures. It wasn't long before Peach crested a hill whose road sported green grass on either side, came to a stop, and looked out over a lush region of plains, forests, and limitless opportunity: the Land of Adventure.

After putting her kart in park, Peach stood up and took in the view, crossing her arms. Since her fusion with Mr. Grimm's spirit, she'd born a cold countenance in stark contrast to her usual cheery optimism, but this sight seemed to lift her spirits. There were birds running across the grassland, cows grazing, and even a strange dinosaur soaring through the sky. As her gaze roved over the landscape, she identified a village to the south on the other side of a copse of trees, complete with smoke rising from its chimneys. The town wasn't the only one sending up a hazy beacon, though. When the princess glanced to the left -the east- she spotted another column of fumes rising skyward from a small castle structure a short ways up a mountain surrounded by pine trees. She pursed her lips. While interesting, it made for too great a detour. The town would be the convoy's next destination.



With the details he'd gleaned from the guildmarm in mind, Geralt set out from Lumbridge not straight north, but northeast. His journey brought him within visible distance of the no-man's land where the Land of Adventure came to an end and a dusty scrubland began, and where no herb-rich castle in the woods would be found. In just about an hour and a half, though, the directions provided to him guided him to the top of a hill that overlooked a sea of pines. It continued northward for a long way, stretching all the way to a shadowy region far removed from the Land of Adventure. When he looked to the right, he spotted a stone structure a short way up the side of a small mountain, it being part of the range that formed the shifting land's northern edge. The easy slope, with sparse trees and boulders but abundant in smaller plants, would be no problem to navigate, even now that the sky had grown cloudy and gray. Geralt's only major challenge would be the strange monster that he knew lurked within. Before heading there, he would no doubt be able to scare up some wild wolves in the pine forest to kill for their fat.

When he eventually did approach the castle, it would become apparent that the edifice was on the smaller end in terms of scale. The trees closest to it looked dead, gnarled and gray, and as Geralt grew closer, he could make out a few puzzling details. In terms of design, it bore a gothic appearance, but sported a number of amenities he couldn't place. Its walls featured lanterns instead of torches, but without any sign of flame. Instead, immaculately rounded bulbous glasses lay within. While his angle obscured much, he could spot a large balcony on the second floor without any kind of door or window, instead leaving much of the second floor open to the air. Farther up stood only a couple spires, their spiky tips pointed skyward. A chorus of strange noises could be heard from the second floor. While one was probably no more than the suppressed burning of a forge, the other -a sort of low, humming roar- confounded his experience. Most poignantly, Geralt couldn't see any living thing, but signs of life he found aplenty. Long, deep claw-scratches in the wall and inhuman footprints in the soil confirmed that he'd come to the right place.

---

It took Trevor a few moments to process what he was seeing. After staring for a moment with a shocked expression, he suddenly stepped forward and embraced Michael, who grimaced as he was pulled into a hug with a man who hadn't showered in weeks. "Michael!" Trevor shouted, pulling away from his friend who quickly brushed himself off. "You're still alive, you fat shit. I thought something would've eaten you by now. And Franklin! You're not dead either." Trevor leaned back, looking at the members of the group milling about, and the monster truck in the distance. "And you've found some new friends. What's with the monster truck?"

"Well, the previous owner attacked us, so we...disposed of him and took it for ourselves. Franklin and some of the others fixed it up." Michael gestured to Franklin, who nodded. "And, uh...look, it's kinda complicated. But..." Michael paused, looking at the tinges of red in Trevor's eyes. He shared a look with Franklin, unsure of what to do. They needed to explain the fact that he was under Galeem's influence, but they didn't know how.

Trevor, meanwhile, looked between the two with confusion growing on his face. "But?" He glared at Michael. "I don't like secrets, Michael. And I can tell there's something going on here."

"It's...alright, you see that big ball in the sky?" Trevor nodded. "It's the reason we're all here. And it has everyone under its influence, expect me, Franklin, and our allies. And if you want to be free, you gotta come with us."

Trevor gave Michael a sideways look. "Buddy, I have no idea what you're talking about. I feel perfectly fine."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're not under its control! Look, I get that you feel fine, and the others people here probably feel fine, too, but that's not the point. It can take control of you, I've seen it happen before!"

"Whatever you say, pal." Trevor said, clearly not concerned by what Michael was saying. Michael could only sigh, seeing that the conversation was going nowhere. Franklin was frowning as well, upset that they seemed to be unable to get through to him.

"So, uh, what are y'all doing here?" Franklin asked, deciding to change the subject.

"Just taking a break, really." Trevor said, taking a sip from his bottle. "Got my truck all fueled up in the back. And, ooh, I've got plans, brother." Trevor broke out into a grin. "I've got plans for this place."

"What, uh...what sorts plans we talking about?"

"Now, this here..." Trevor waved an arm, gesturing to the wilderness behind them. "This is a land of opportunity. It's like the Wild West out here, you know? No cops. No government bullshit. Nothing holding us back." Trevor took another sip of his drink. "I'm gonna bring Trevor Phillips Industries back, and its gonna be bigger and better than ever. And, maybe with some help..." He looked back and Michael and Franklin.

"I appreciate the offer, but we've got our own thing going. Look, if we can take out Galeem, everything returns to normal. We can go home."

"Go home? What, you miss your mansion?"

"I miss my family, Trevor. This world is no place for my kids to grow up."

"Ah, they'll be fine. I mean, look at this place!" He raised his hands. "We have a chance to make something for ourselves! Like the pioneers and shit. Do whatever the fuck we want, 'cause nobody can tell us not to! Fuck the old world, let's make our own!"

"Look, it sounds wonderful. Very utopian. But we're gonna stick to what we're doing."

"Ah, whatever. Have fun with that, then." With a final gulp, he finished the rest of his drink, tossing the bottle aside. "If you get bored with your travelling circus or whatever it is, come and find me." With that, he headed off. Michael and Franklin left soon after.

Ratchet, Jak, and Daxter arrived at the Hammerhead only a little ahead of the others who stayed behind to fix up the monster truck. They hadn’t taken off that much sooner after all, and drove at a fairly leisurely pace so that Ratchet could explain the rest of their situation to the Dark and Light Brigade. He had covered everything they learned so far, from Galeem to the spirits that remained after killing someone, to their various uses. This veered into the rather uncomfortable topic of Clank’s current situation, having been relegated to a striker, a mere shadow of his former self. Upon seeing the situation Daxter gulped, having no desire for the same fate to befall him. Jak was less concerned and reassured his little buddy that no matter what, they always got through thick and thin together. This did little to ease Daxter’s concerns, though.

Once they arrived, Ratchet parked the Blue Falcon kart and hopped out, while Jak dismounted his jet board and reattached it to his back. ”Sheesh! This place looks more run down than a discount brothel in Kras City! I wanna complain to the manager!” Daxter said to nobody in particular, never one to exercise discretion or use an indoor voice.

”Hey, it’s a workshop! Nice! I wonder what kinds of machines and vehicles they work on here?” Ratchet was clearly interested in the Hammerhead, paying little attention to the nearby diner establishment.

”Hey, you said that everybody is under Galeem’s influence, right? All these people have got that red eye thing going on,” Jak said to Ratchet, keeping on track. He eyed everyone around warily, arms crossed.

”Yeah, what about it?” Ratchet retorted, his jaunt toward the garage interrupted to answer his fellow hero.

”So then why isn’t this place a war zone? Seems pretty peaceful.” Peace, that was something Jak wasn’t used to ever since getting flung into the future. Into Haven City. He instinctively distrusted it, especially this kind of peace. It just didn’t sit well with him.

”Like I said, it’s subtle. Unless Galeem or a giant hand comes around to take direct control, people seem to mostly act as usual.” Ratchet shrugged, but Clank manifested to offer more insight.

“Through my own observations and personal experience I have determined that unless acted upon by an outside force, most individuals behave under normal conditions with a 97.8% reliability, give or take a 2% margin of error.” Ratchet thanked Clank, who immediately dissipated back into spirit form until next he would be needed.

”Really…” Jak muttered wistfully.

”Whatcha thinking about Jak? Eh? Old buddy? Hey! Earth to Jak, anybody in there?” Daxter knocked on the side of Jak’s head like a door, rousing his friend from his own thoughts.

”It’s just that if everyone acts like they normally would… Then why would we have joined those bandits? That psycho Needles, and the reaper guy? And why would I have prioritized that alliance over our old friend?” Jak gestured to Ratchet, who had taken to leaning up against his omniwrench.

”Oh yeah, that is a good point…” Daxter mused, tapping his little furry chin.

”Well anything could have happened while you were under, I guess. If you can’t remember then you can’t remember. The important thing is that now your will is free again and you know how to fix it for everyone else.”

”I guess, but I can’t help but think that if Galeem didn’t directly affect my actions, what could those psychos have said or done to convince me to side with them over you? Assuming I was still working in my normal mindset.”

Daxter quickly interjected. ”Sheesh! Way to bring down the mood! Come on Jak, all this heavy introspection ain’t like you! Let’s just get a move on already!”

Clank was next to interject, manifesting for only a brief moment. “If I may, one of the core alterations I have observed seems to be levels of aggression. I have noted that anyone under Galeem’s influence that has engaged in battle seems incapable of surrender or withdraw. As you were already engaged with Gene prior to the arrival of Ratchet and myself, I hypothesize that any feelings of loyalty you had toward us were overridden at the time by the necessity to continue combat at all cost.”

”Or it could just be your anger problems! Haha!” Ratchet gave Jak a quick finger gun gesture, but before Jak or Daxter could rebut, something else caught their attention.

A scuffle seemed to be going on near the garage of the Hammerhead! A number of their allies were embroiled in a battle against some sort of robotic bird. They all rushed in to help, but before they could lift a finger the fight was already over: the eagle was scrapped and Din took the spirit into her body. Jak got to watch a spirit absorption firsthand for the first time. The results left him visibly impressed, though he said nothing. Daxter was, in a rare occurrence, at a complete loss for words, simply gesticulating wildly .

It was around this time that Gene announced to everyone that there was a second possible destination they could all head for, one with deadly demons to battle and something bizarre sounding called the Qliphoth. Jak looked over to Daxter with a wide grin. Daxter shook his head no wildly, but it was no use. When Jak made up his mind, it was already a done deal.

”Count us in! Sounds like a hell of a good time.” Jak eagerly agreed.

”You mean count you in while I’m forced to tag along! Ugh, I just hope none of them have a taste for ottsel…”

”Then that means I’m going too,” Ratchet put forward, showcasing his omniwrench. ”Both times we met up before our contest was interrupted. This time I’ll prove to you who the better hero is!”

”A demon killing contest, eh? I like the sound of that!”

---

Inside Grillby’s Courier 6 was having a hell of a good time playing poker. He appreciated the flaming cocktail the waiter provided, it gave the drink extra burn as it went down his throat, and the dogs were easy pickings for the well practiced gambler. After all, they barely seemed to have an understanding of the game at all! He hardly needed to be the man banned from every casino in New Vegas to take on these mongrels. Still, for some reason his exceptional luck wasn’t working so he had to rely entirely on skill and guile. That just made it more fun, honestly.

The dogs were extra trusting of his calls too, which made it far easier to bluff them. It seemed his natural animal magnetism affected these humanoid puppers to some extent since they trusted him so easily. He started the first round testing the waters with a small bet: 10 caps in the pot. That the bottle caps did not match the dog treats the rest were betting with didn’t seem to be an issue. The round took some time as the dog wearing a black mask didn’t understand what cards he had. He just barked anytime someone else moved and treated his own hand like it was invisible. Eventually he laid down his cards, a pair of sixes. The Courier had nothing, a total pig hand, and so lost his ten caps. Winner that round was the large buff dog with a small head.

That got their confidence up. Good, he could strike while the iron was hot. The next hand was dealt and the Courier had a pair of queens, but nothing else. He made another small bet of ten caps, then waited for the exchanges. Some of the dogs exchanged cards, some didn’t. The Courier chose nothing. New round of betting. ”All in,” he said, emptying his entire savings of caps onto the table. The masked dog immediately went crazy, barking left and right. The long necked dog looked at his pair of queens and, failing to understand it wasn’t as strong as the bet, folded. One by one the dogs all folded, implicitly trusting that there was no way the Courier would make such an extravagant bet if his hand didn’t match. He took the round based on his bluff alone.

The next round was a little trickier and would require more skill than a blatant bluff, as some of the smarter dogs caught on. Now that he had some dog treats, the Courier could bet with those instead of his bottle caps. 2 treats to start, and his hand was strong: three 9s. Then came the exchanges. The Courier tossed two cards, but neither of them helped his hand in any way. Three 9s was all he would have. ”I raise 5 treats,” he bet, keeping his face stone cold. Most of them matched his bet, but the amalgamate opted to fold. Then came the reveal: the Courier won the round with his three of a kind. Ironically, the only one that could have beaten him was the amalgamate, who chose to fold while it had a full house: two kings and three 4s.

So the rounds continued like this, with the Courier losing a couple here and there but winning the majority, all the way up until he had, as declared when he sat down, taken the whole pot. The dogs looked disappointed, whimpering even, as he shoveled the dog treats into his travel bag. ”Pleasure playin’ with ya, hombres. Here’s a little somethin’ fer yer troubles.” He tossed a single treat in the middle of the table for them all to share, or fight over, however they chose to solve the dispute wasn’t really his business.

No sooner had he finished the game than it was time to head out. The Land of Adventure awaited them all and, actually thinking back on it he wasn’t getting paid for this work, was he? No, he only charged Bowser to escort him and Kirby to the castle. Everything since then had been pro bono! Oh, well in all the excitement of everything it seemed he forgot to make a new deal. That would have to be rectified soon…

After the conversation with Tora and Poppi, Donnie's stomach started growling in earnest. Noticing the building with the name "Grillby's" on the front, he decided to head inside, figuring that it was an eatery of some kind by the name. Opening the door, he was indeed correct. In fact, the almost-entirely wooden decor reminded him of a tavern, especially with the bar in the back. He also noticed Courier playing poker with some...dogs. Over dog treats.

Well, he'd pegged the Courier as a weirdo already, didn't like gambling, and had already annoyed him by pissing off Captain Falcon, so he ignored the game (though he did send an approving nod his way when he noticed the massive pile of dog treats in the Courier's corner. He could appreciate skill when he saw it, even if he wasn't a gambler himself) and walked over to the bar, which was tended by what looked like an armored mechanical figure whose head was on fire, not unlike the clown he'd killed earlier.

Sitting down at the barstool, he took off his helmet, asked for the strongest stuff the robot had, and got to drinking when it was placed in front of him. Quickly downing glass after glass, he finished by ordering what looked like the most interesting thing on the menu, something known as a "cheeseburger." He'd never heard of that back on Azeroth, so he figured he'd check that out first. In short order, he was passed a platter of what looked like some kind of meat slab on a bun with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles, ketchup, and mustard inside the whole mess, with some fried potato sticks in a pile next to it. Weird. Taking off his gauntlets, the pieces of magical gear coming off with some quick work of the leather straps, and placing them to the side, he picked up the whole mess with his bare hands (since he could at least tell this was finger food) and dug in.

It was surprisingly good. For good measure, he also ordered a slice of chocolate cake, because he could. And lots of water (as well as a cup of coffee) to help with the hangover that would inevitably happen the next day. After his meal (and a quick trip to the bathroom), he re-equipped the missing pieces of his armor and it was time to pay. The bill was...the bill was...

"...Holy shit..." was all Donnie could say as he saw a bill for a cool 120,000 "g." He assumed that stood for "gold." His eyes widened as he looked at Fire Man's mechanical face. "Is...is gold the base currency in these parts?"

"We only accept gold," the robot said. "If you can't pay, I can put it on your tab."

Donnie replied quickly, trying to save face. "No, no, I can pay, it's just...copper's the base currency where I come from. It's 100 copper to 1 silver, and 100 silver to one gold. So, 120,000 gold is...." he let the robot fill in the blanks himself.

"I understand," the robot said, "But you said you can pay, so...."

Well, there goes any hope of getting away with putting it on my tab, Donnie thought to himself as he magicked the luggage into existence, reached into one of its pockets, and prepared to dump armloads of gold coins onto the counter. Instead, the robot put up an arm to stop him. "I can tell that you don't have a higher denomination on you. I can't have the restaurant fill up with a pile of metal reaching to the ceiling over one meal. It would make it impossible to work. I'll put it on your tab until you can find some normal gold, and I won't come after you. Just go." He beckoned to the door with his right flamethrower.

"...Thank you. You're a lifesaver," Donnie said in a shaky voice as he got up and walked to the doors. He thought to himself, By the Four Celestials, I just dodged a bullet. I forgot patience. Prudence. Next time, I'll ask for the price before I order. Then he heard a commotion and booked it over to the garage, where it looked like a fight had happened, and ended just as quickly in his allies' favor. Shrugging, he turned over to Gene, who was offering a demon-slaying sidequest. The party was already fairly large, with Jak, Daxter, Ratchet, and Clank joining, along with the four new guys and of course Gene, but he'd been killing the demons of the Burning Legion for a while now, so he walked over, his previous shakiness fading.

"Count me in. I've killed my fair share of demons, so I think I'd be a pretty good fit for this."

@Simple Unicycle @ProPro @Lugubrious

After the courier dined and dashed and Donny talked his way out of paying Bowser was left as the only person left in the overpriced schmuck trap that was the bar who hadn't dealt with payment.

Browser had frozen halfway through eating his second burger when he heard the price the monk had been charged for his own meal. Grease had slow dribbled down from the half bitten through burger as the king’s brain considered its options. After several long moments of contemplation he nodded to himself and quickly finished the rest of his meal.

”YOUR PRICES ARE OUTRAGEOUS” he informed Fire Man once he was done, activating the mecha mit as he said so.

A glowing energy claw slid out and slashed through the thread holding the other three gold buttons on Bowser’s coat. His other hand caught the small balls as they were freed of his size changing magic and began to expand back to their original diameter. When he subsequently underhand tossed them to bartender they had grown as large a fists.

”FOR OUR TAB” he told the bartender as he turned to go.

Before the bot could recover from having to catch/juggle three heavy balls of pure gold Bowser had already stomped his way out of the door, preventing the King from finding out if he had just grossly over or underpaid for him and his minion’s meals/drinks.

Outside a lot of things were/had been going on and Bowser took it all in as dark magic coalesced around him, gradually being absorbed into his body as the king grew back to the size that the party was used to seeing him at.

Jr and kamek had caught up, he noted. The former was just finishing the supervising the offloading of a whole heap of car parts that looked to have been ripped from the raider cars that had attacked them earlier. An assortment of summoned Koopas and Goombas brought these down from the captured Brother Grimm and where handing them over to the young engineer woman who worked here. In exchange Bowser’s son seemed to have acquired a yellow briefcase from her. The team’s intimidation factor had largely been mitigated by Jr’s in-experience with haggling, and so the pair had come to a rather even bargain in the end as a result.

There was also the tell tale marks of a fight, a lack of bird robot and addition of new metallic parts to their dancer that indicated that part of the team had picked a fight with one of the Hammerhead’s customers while he was gone, though said fight did not seem to have escalated beyond that single, now dead, person. Finally a number of their party, including among others the yellow rat, the monk and the new spiky haired ferret owner, had gathered to discuss/plan something with the boy band and demon upsetting duo.

Finally it appeared that peach, along with some of the others, were preparing to leave already.

”Papa!” Jr called over to the king when he spotted him, moving away from his completed dealing with the Hammerhead worker to go meet up with his father.

”Ah, there you are sire.” Kamek said as he came to join them both from where he had been standing and keeping an eye on the king’s army of misfits.

”That the place for lunch?” Jr asked as he pointed to the bar, having worked up quite the appetite.

”No. Place is a total rip off.” Bowser told him, ignoring the subsequent sound of disappointment to ask ”So what's going on with that lot?”

”I believe they intend to head off the Dead zone if I’ve been overhearing their discussion with that gaggle of coiffed individuals correctly.” Kamek explained as he took out the map and indicated to the large city region located to the north of where they probably were. ”the one with the bleached hair said something about a big demon that sounds like it might be one of Galeem’s Guardian.”

”What are they doing that for? We’re going south to the land of adventure! Right?” Bowser said, both a bit confused and slightly angry at this news.

”We are, your Leaderness, but it seems that the old plan of splitting up has raised its head once more. Its a touch out of the blue for them to do so I’ll admit, but we did make preparations for this occasion. The modified teleporters, if you remember them? It’s also a smaller separation than the initial separate arcs plan. They'll go through the dead zone and ruined metropolis, I think, while we can go through the land of adventure and the sand swept wastes. Then we’ll all meet up at the forbidden kingdom. Probably. Or we could perhaps double back through the Dark forest once we are done down south? hmmm.” Kamek said at length while thoughtfully examining the map.

”Gah fine sure whatever. Let’s just get a move on already. Bowser conceded, unwilling to listen to Kamek prattle on any longer about the possibilities, and wanting to get away from the ludicrously expensive bar as soon as possible.

Jr meanwhile had already wandered off after it turned out getting food around here was off the table to go tinkering with his clown car. The yellow box, now opened up beside him as he worked, was revealed to contain a bevy of rather sophisticated mechanical tools which the boy used to fiddling around with the insides of his tiny vehicles. As he worked bits of the head of the sweet tooth, which the boy’s minions brought down from the Brother Grimm before dispersing, were being gradually extracted and inserted into the smaller clown head.

”ALRIGHT EVERYONE WHO@S STILL HEADING SOUTH, GET GOING BEFORE THE PRINCESS GETS AWAY!.” Bowser commanded the team before telling Kamek to ”Go tell that lot that plan of mine. The one with the teleporters and map route and stuff.

”Sigh. Yes sire.” Kamek responded as the king stomped over to his car to prepare to set off.

Kamke meanwhile did as he was instructed and walked over to the dead zone team. ”Two things before you leave with the pile of pretty boys. One, make sure to take a teleporter with you so we can keep in touch, reinforce one another and so on. Second, I suggest that if communications break down we make this” Kamek showed them the map and indicated to the entrance to the forbidden kingdom, ”our emergency rendezvous point. If you intend to go through the nameless city afterwards that is? The rest of us will most likely be heading to the sand swept wastes after the land of adventure, terrain permitting of course.”

Kamek kept the map open in-case they had other suggestions/plans for routes that he was unaware of.

Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.

Level 3 - (17/30) EXP
Location: Small Town
Word Count: 341

---

This meeting seemed much more copacetic than the last.

So nothing happened.

There was nothing to do in this town! He was eager to get back on the move. More over he couldn't very much relate to anyone here. Perhaps they could share stories one day, but this Galeem loomed over them and they were not safe in this town, not for long. Agoston ended up waiting in his kart for the convoy to keep moving. Princess Peach took the lead and Centurion swiftly followed suit, anxious to get back into the action. Even the karts were unnatural. But he was probably too big for a horse at this point. Still, the way they just moved along, rumbling to life, it was hard to get used too. Harmless nonetheless, he would just have to suck it up.

Glad to be back on the road Agoston hummed the lyrics of his favorite song. A simple but heartfelt ballad about a woman seeking her lost pet. What an arduos and long journey she went on, going to all different places and meeting all sorts of people. She made friends and enemies along the way. Centurion could relate to her more now than she ever could, for once he trekked miles across landscapes on his many repeated military campaigns, he always did it with a legion at his back. Now he felt like he was searching for his lost dog, out of his element and making do with what he had. Fortunately he still had mortal combat to engage in every once in a while. Far more, infact, than he did back in his world. Even though it was in shorter bursts and...surreal.

Eventually they crested a hill and Agoston took in the awe-inspiring and sweeping vista of the Land of Adventure.

"That's an adventurous land if I've ever seen one," He commented mostly to himself. "It is aptly named." He paused for a ponderous moment. A town lay ahead. Saying no more he crouched back into his kart and rumbled down the hill.

As Geralt made his way through the forest, he made sure to keep a close eye out for the telltale signs of wolf activity: scat, gnawed bones, tracks and the like. The werewolf's lair wasn't that far away now, so it seemed like here was the best place to really do some searching. Hopefully this werewolf would be like the others he'd dealt with, and an upsurge in local canine activity would accompany the cursed beastman.

His instincts proved correct once more, and Geralt found himself standing over a mostly broken, chewed up leg bone, surveying his surroundings. Picking up the bone, he gave it a sniff, only to sigh as his nose failed him yet again. "Must be something in the air here....damned nose hasn't worked right since I showed up." Abandoning that line of thought, Geralt gave a closer look, finding a few scattered bone chips and pieces that, if you thought about it hard enough, could point vaguely in one direction. Giving a sigh and a shrug, he took off that way, looking again for his temporary quarry.

After a short while, Geralt found his luck held, and he came across a few footprints which led him to a quartet of wolves tearing into a deer. Smirking, the witcher knelt, drew his hand crossbow and took a deep breath. Lining a shot up with the heads of one of the wolves, he left his steel sword laying next to his leg, ready to be picked up once he'd taken his shot.

The sound of a bolt flying through the air halted the wolves' feast as one of the four stumbled and collapsed to the ground in a dazed and dying heap. The remaining three wolves all looked around before one howled and charged, Geralt grabbing his sword and stowing his crossbow. It was time to thin the pack.

As the first wolf leaped at him, Geralt spun to the side, swiping his sword upwards through the air and tearing a massive line through the wolf's stomach and side, causing it to fall over as soon as it landed. The second charging wolf broke off to the side as the third came from the front, taking advantage of their numbers to overwhelm him. It did them no good, however, as Geralt growled and ran directly at the wolf in front of him, swinging his sword in a low arc and severing the right foreleg of the beast, which whimpered as it fell.

The final wolf looked at the carnage around it, at its fallen packmates, and growled and Geralt before turning tail and sprinting off into the woods, likely to find its way back to its pack and warn them of the danger. It wasn't necessary, Geralt thought, as he cleaned his sword off and walked over to the wolf missing a leg.

It growled and snapped at him as he came close, and Geralt let out a breath of pity. He preferred clean kills not just because they were easier, but because he genuinely disliked seeing animals in pain. He needed something from this animal, however, so he shook his head and drew his hunting knife while grabbing a hold of the wolf's neck from behind as it tried to adjust to not only the loss of a limb, but the loss of so much blood.

It took him a little while to skin the wolves, grab enough fat to make a few batches of oil, and even take a few small cuts of meat along, but Geralt found himself at the edge of the trees after a short while, staring at the castle and the relative emptiness surrounding it. As he traveled, he tried to keep an eye out for wolfsbane as well, but he was either looking in the wrong spot, or there was none to be found. It was a shame, but he'd have to worry about it later. His hunch had him wondering if it would be necessary just yet.

Finally approaching the castle, Geralt narrowed his eyes at the noises he heard and the damage he saw to the castle exterior. Taking a breath, he approached the doors of the castle, deciding to take the direct approach. Werewolves could be reasoned with, just like any other person.

It just....wasn't always quite as easily said as done. But Geralt wasn't one for taking the easy path when there was a better one available. No, he was as stupid as he was brilliant sometimes. He pounded a fist on the door, calling out to whomever was inside. "Hello? I'm looking to talk. Don't want any more needless bloodshed."

Yeah....he was stupid, alright.

With the help of their fellow ally, the quarrel between the hunter and the party of four seemingly arrived at a peaceful, if disagreeable resolution. The regal quartet diving off in spite of the irritated young man’s advisory was as good a sign as any for the bear and bird that their help wasn’t needed, or wanted, so they elected not to hang around the scene any longer than they had to. However, with one conflict prevented, another greater one was taking place while they weren’t looking. Their attention was drawn to the sound of violent commotion coming from the garage, prompting them to investigate, but by the time they made their way to the door the fighting was over, their allies a little worse for wear, but otherwise okay. The duo could only observe the aftermath of the battle with a mechanical avian that lay center punched and lifeless against the wall, the ashes of its dead form already starting to scatter. With the known roles and personalities of the apparent combatants, it was hard to believe--and thus easy to rule out--that they would have simply picked a fight with it. The explanatory expression of regret from the kindly ranger, as well as Princess’s apologies to the owners served to all but ensure as much.

On that note, in similar fashion to Peach from earlier in the day, the dancer gently drew forth the fallen reploid’s spirit, examined it sympathetically for a brief moment, took it into herself, and began to change, merging aspects of the spirit with herself. This made the second demonstration of spirit-based transformation the duo had witnessed today, and that it came with a fancy set of retractable wings made her a tad jealous as she looked at her own, reminding her that they weren’t good for much as they currently were. A trilling, disappointed “Aww…” escaped her as she lowered her head ruefully at the realization that even flight was beyond her for the time being. Banjo, with a hand held to his chin, simply beheld the phenomenon with curious fascination, but he wouldn’t have time to think much harder about it. By then, the assertive mediator from earlier, having reached an accord with the punkish amputee (one “Nero”, apparently), approached the group with a proposal: a “spooky” detour to the Dead Zone to defeat a bizarre, demonic entity with what was a possibly Gothic name that Banjo would most likely misspell.

“Hmm… that sure does sound spooky,” Banjo visibly pondered. “I can’t imagine why we’d make a special trip to go there,” he further suggested, as if to decline; whether at a loss of nerve or out of abject laziness was anyone’s guess. Then came enthusiastically competitive talk of demon killing...

“That would be why,” Kazooie answered dryly in reference to the conversation in question.

“Because they’ll need our help?” Banjo inquired, pinching his forehead in slight, but obvious exasperation.

“Yyyy-yes, because we can’t let them go alone,” Kazooie falsely clarified, doing a bad job of hiding the other half of her intentions that involved getting in on that “contest”.

“*Sigh.* I’ll go bring the kart around.” Banjo resigned himself to the unplanned change of course, figuring that it couldn’t be much worse than where they were going before, even if it very obviously sounded like it. Come to think of it, he didn’t have a good answer to his own question. No matter which way him and Kazooie went, neither of them had a clear reason of their own for going there, nor for tagging along with a party, considering that the two of them usually just adventured on their own. As far as the duo were concerned, wherever they could help was where they needed to be, and this was the closest thing to a definite sign of that they’d gotten thus far. Hopefully, no one from the majority party would mind a few of them splitting off for the time being to go take care of something else. They would eventually have to come back around to it anyways, so a little sequence breaking couldn’t hurt.

Banjo made a point of informing Princess Peach--if no one else--of the party split as a polite courtesy to the generous curator of their journey, rather than running out on their new friends so soon without saying anything, but it didn’t stop him from apologizing for it still. Afterwards, he went to top off the Trolley before pulling up behind the van to await their imminent departure, offering the cargo space to any willing/needy passengers of their company who could fit and didn’t mind not having an actual seat to themselves. Though it wouldn’t be much, refueling gave the bear and bird a minute discuss the trip amongst themselves…

“Sooo… demons, zombies, undead… You think there’ll be any witches there too?”

“*Shudder* I sure hope not. I’m not looking forward to a reunion right now.”

---

After taking a couple of sizable drinks from the half full pitcher of lukewarm, iceless water she was hastily handed by the apprehensive pyroid, Hat Kid matched His Highness Bowser’s order (minus one) while making a few creative modifications to it. She requested medium rare with candied bacon and a sunny side fried egg on a toasted bun, with a side of nacho-loaded fries and a banana shake (un-spiked) to chase it all down with. While the barkeep was marking down every individual patrons’ tabs, Kid tried to see if she couldn’t negotiate hers by offering an alternative option of favor in return for food--like taking care of some of his chores or running an errand for him. If he accepted those terms, she would set to fulfilling them as soon as he called them in, or volunteer to settle it then and now if time permitted.

Whatever the owner’s request, assuming it was within reason, shouldn’t take her longer than her crew spent at the station to fulfill, as she had done worse favors for less savory characters in roughly the same amount of time in the past. Before that could be followed up on, however, the Koopa King, outraged over the prices being charged, paid out for him and all of his “minions” with a clawful of confettied gold buttons from his coat and angrily stormed out. The child stopped chewing for a moment in minor disbelief after seeing this and shrugged to the bartender, bearing a look of confusion as to whether her would still be expecting anything of her. Otherwise, she would spend the remainder of her time there watching, intrigued, as the Courier cleared out the Poker table, as promised. After Six walked out with his winnings, Kid would finish her meal and shortly follow.

Their business seemingly satisfied, the convoy soon got back on the road heading south. Hat Kid noted a conspicuous downsizing of their crew once again, but didn’t concern herself too much with the fact or the reason. The business of the outgoing party members was theirs, and she had her own to take care of. Speaking of which, she would be keeping her senses sharp, her compass active, and her top hat on and checked throughout the trip, until such time as the situation called for a change of hats. If her findings were potentially substantial enough to warrant briefly making her own break from the group to seek them out--even momentarily--so be it.

---

"No way." Linkle said as the old owner of the garage offered to wave the fee for the damage she'd caused in what could very charitably be called a misadventure. This was her fault. The heroic thing to do was at least make up for the damages. She patted herself down, trying to find her wallet. "If someone came into my house and fought my birds...well, they'd be halfway to a stalfoes...but it's the principle of the thing. So just let me, uh...."

Where was it? She knew she'd had it before all this, a big stinking wallet stuffed with rupees. More rupees than she knew what to do with, enough to lounge on like a fat happy cat. Monsters just burst into them sometimes. It's not like she had anything to spend them on while she'd been out in the wild so they'd just been gathering dust in her Wallet. Which wasn't here!

She froze up and glared at Galeem. Today had been terrible so far. She ate a bunch of dust, her bike got smashed, a bird she'd just been trying to help attacked her, all the other girls transformations were cooler than hers, and now it turned out that Galeem had stolen all her money.

She looked mournfully at Cid. Now she had been a double jerk for getting his hopes up, and monsters around here didn't drop as Much currency as she was used to. But then she hit on an idea.

"We're gonna have to come back through here to get back to the castle. By then, I'll have as many rupees as you need to pay for this." She said. Bowser had said it, they were headed to the Land of Adventure. There was no way there wasn't something she could do there to earn a bunch of money. Adventure and Treasure were inseparable words, you couldn't have one without the other. "Oh, and that." She said, pointing to the pile of scrap Banjo had laid in the garage. "That was mine. It used to be the coolest kart in our whole group, until it got smashed by the huge one. If you were to rebuild it I bet you could sell it for tons of money. And if not, I'll buy it back from you when we come back through."

Linkle nodded at herself for being such a good haggler, but then Bowsers yell to get a move on cut through her brain. "Right, sorry, I gotta run. I'll be back though."

Everyone was already pulling out, but the now undermanned rabbit kart helpfully slowed back to pick up any stragglers. A few of the springy one sat in the back, door open, alternatively laughing and waving their arms in encouragement as she raced after it and jumped aboard.

---

The land of adventure turned out to be very nice, a far cry from the dusty roads they followed here. "It's almost like we're back in Hyrule." She said. It was probably a far better place than the horrible demon castle the rest of the group had driven off too. Honestly, normally she'd have jumped at the chance of knocking over some horrible demon castle but she had depts to pay and every hero knew you didn't head to the horrible demon castle if you still had side things to do.

She watched the birds running by outside, yellow fluffy things like giant chickens, but considering how things had gone last time she didn't feel the need to reach out to them.

Blazermate was debating a bit with her feelings on Din taking in Storm Eagle's spirit. For one, she was becoming more Medabot, but on the other, she'd also be stuck in this weird half limbo of being partially 'flesh' with Blazermate. But seeing as she figured that this was just due to the spirit she absorbed and that finding another Medabot spirit would probably fix her up, Blazermate said. "Nice, becoming a medabot yourself? Now we just need to get you your own medal. And more parts..." trailing off as she thought about how many parts she'd also need in the future, feeling she had almost expended everything the current spirit she absorbed could do.

As she left the garage, Blazermate heard the rest of the group talking about splitting up. Some wanted to go to The Land of Adventure, while others wanted to take a detour to get some powerful spirits in a demon castle nearby. While the Land of Adventure was their next destination, a little detour felt like it'd be for the best to obtain new parts. She overheard Kamek talking strategy, and agreed with the mage. Sure this would make the trek back to Peach's Castle a bit longer, but splitting up the party was a lot more dangerous than walking across a now seemingly cleared desert. Walking over to the Bowsermobile, which was now cleared of Blazermate's sentry, the gun beeping in the garage where she had left it, Blazermate put down one end of her teleporter. Detonating the other half at Peach's castle, she then put that other one down on the trolly Banjo and Kazooie had made that was headed for the Demon Castle.

While both teleporters were building, Blazermate walked up to Kamek as he seemed to be the one with the most strategy and informed him, Bowser, and anyone within earshot how her teleporters worked. "OK, these are two way, so if one side needs reinforcements just hop into one and you'll be with the others and vice versa. Each teleporter can only teleport 1 person at a time and need to charge up for a few seconds between teleports. Try not to get yours destroyed, because I can only reconstruct whats on my end. I can repair them through the teleporter on my end if they get damaged though. Enemies can't take our teleporters unless they're spies, and any enemy on the end of a teleporter while one of us is trying to use it will be instantly killed as we warp into them, even if they're invincible. We're fine though, the teleporter will push you off if your on it while one of us is using it." Blazermate said. she also recounted what she said and continued. "Although I don't know exactly what a "spy" is. As now I have an irrational SEVERE hatred of frenchmen and something called "Sappers". Might be something that this spirit knew and had to deal with. Have any of you hated something to an insane degree suddenly? This is new to me." She said, a bit confused but accepting of the knowledge anyhow. With her explanation done she turned back to level up the teleporters to make them beefier and recharge faster.

Seeing as Banjo's trolly had so much space, Blazermate went to get her sentry gun and place it on the vehicle. It seemed she'd be hauling the thing around as it was far stronger than most of her Medabot weapons and not having to rebuild it would be nice since it took so long to build. When she grabbed the beeping gun from the battle scarred garage, putting it back into a large toolbox and hauling it over her shoulder, she saw Michael and Franklin walking out of the bar with the last few stragglers like the Kid.

"Hey would you guys like to go to the Demon Castle? That group seems like its lacking people. Maybe get some cool demon powers from some of the souls there? Thats why I'm going!" Blazermate said to the three. She knew Michael and Franklin defenetly needed to absorb some spirits at some point as they seemed to be the ones with the most weak points. Hat Kid was a bit of an enigma though, and Blazermate really didn't know how to handle her besides offering an invitation to go to the castle. "And its not a permanent choice. I've got my teleporters up so people can swap locations if they want to." She said, in order to help her friends make better choices. "Either way, I'll just be a teleport trip away if you guys decide to go to the Land of Adventure instead. Just don't get hurt too badly. Don't want any of you ending up as parts." Blazermate finished with a giggle, hauling her sentry gun back to the trolly.

Setting up her sentry on the back of the trolly, she noticed Banjo and Kazooie. The weird couple she had healed previously in Bowser's castle, but hadn't really interacted with much since then. Since they talked unlike the kid that seemed to pal around with them, Blazermate decided to make some conversation to get to know her allies better as she tried to find a spot for her dispenser. "So... I'm Blazermate, How are you two faring with all this? Besides that tussle at Peach's castle, you two haven't really gotten hurt from what I can remember. And why are you going to the Demon Castle? I'm going for parts myself. Need more upgrades!"

Peach did not let the vista offered by the Land of Adventure to distract her for more than a few moments. After letting out a small sigh, she returned to her vehicle and put it into gear, and down the hill she went. Though the village lay only a short drive away, she caught up to Agoston, and the two reached Lumbridge together. They found themselves greeted immediately by a trio of appointed guardsmen: a purple-robed warrior, a little mage, and a youthful swordsman. While not the most talkative bunch outside of the girl, they seemed welcoming enough, and in an odd turn did not seem at all repulsed by the idea of a bunch of strangers entering their town. Once they felt reasonably assured that the visitors would do the place no harm, they allowed the convoy to enter, once they left their vehicles behind.

After exiting behind the mercifully near-vacant rabbid truck along with Linkle, Tora lent his egg-shaped body to help Poppi walk into Lumbridge. The place featured every conceivably trait of a cheery beginning-of-journey town, complete with numerous useful facilities and an atmosphere of potential. The foremost guardsman suggested that the heroes check in with the Guild, which occupied a central position in Lumbridge not just physically, but in all its affairs. A walk there brought the heroes past a few different stores, a couple fenced-in paddocks with livestock, numerous houses, and businesses like a tanner, blacksmith, and apothecary.

From the moment that Hat Kid first started down the main path, the familiar activity of her hat suggested the presence of a nearby Time Piece, and a little searching brought her to the doorstep of the town's General Store. Its sign, on a wooden board near the steps to the door, identified it as 'Malo Mart'. From the moment she entered, a little, round face peered at her from behind the counter. Though Malo looked like a toddler, there was no mistaking the intellect behind his eyes. “Buy something..” he told her, gesturing at the shelf behind him. A number of items were on display with their prices, with several of denominations accepted. Above all of them was the Time Piece, with no listed price. The savvy entrepreneur caught his visitor's gaze. “Interested in that thing?” he asked, his tone remarkably deadpan. “Can't just sell it. Quest reward. Ask the guild. Or me, since you're here.”

Meanwhile, Peach led the main group toward the rather squat castle at Lumbridge's center, which constituted the Guild Hall. The transition from driving to walking allowed her to get a look at her team, however, and while she did assess the group's strength post-split, she found herself somewhat worried by Din. Dropping back to walk alongside her, Peach treated the dancer to a furrowed brow and concerned frown. “That's quite the drastic change,” she observed. “If you don't like it, I could try pulling the spirit out of you. Hopefully it'll put you back to what you were before.”

Her conversation allowed others to take the lead and approach the guild hall. They passed by the town sheriff having a few words with a young, eager-looking deputy, the both of whom fell silent to eye the new arrivals but did nothing further. The lawman's enormous, fearsome-looking hound looked at them most pointedly, but with no word from her master she patiently restrained herself. Inside the hall, across a large common area with open floor surrounded by tables, the guildmarm doled out assignments and reward vouchers from behind her desk with the help of her catlike palico companions.

The appearance of strangers, some pretty tough-looking, earned more than a few interested, wary, and awed stares from the hall's population. Nearest the door, a boy looked up from his lunch with shining eyes, and not far away, a genial duo exchanged hushed words. A mercenary watched with cold eyes, while a bizarrely-shaped man looked up from some woodworking for only a moment.

As fascinating as all the new faces were, Tora turned back from the guild's entrance to head toward the blacksmith. Even if they didn't have materials he could use to patch up Poppi, the felt sure that the ambient energy from the forge would help restore her supply of ether. After a few minutes of hauling his companion along, he struggled inside the smithy and keeled over in exhaustion. “Meeeeeh! So tired! Poppi much heavier than she looks.” Wiping sweat from his brow, he picked himself up to state his intentions, only for his jaw to hit the floor. The smiths, hard at work in the middle of a three-person project, were a trio of astonishing sisters, now looking up at the Nopon in a mix of irritation and curiosity. All of a sudden, Tora found himself flabbergasted, utterly unable to speak, and the next moment he keeled over once again. “Poppi...” he gasped. “Get Tora out of here! Cannot...function!” Since Poppi couldn't either, however, he soon realized he'd be getting out of nowhere fast.



Nero watched as, one after another, a couple of Gene's friends pledged to join him on his divergent path. First to lend their support were the two techy duos, Ratchet & Clank and Jak & Dakster. He shook his head with pressed lips, hoping the pairs fought harder than they looked. Next, a antiquated but tough-looking monk showed himself, claiming a record of demon slaughter. If so, Nero imagined he'd be an asset, but fists, feet, and simple blades wouldn't do much against anything tougher than an empusa. Last to join was another partnership, half bear and half bird. Their competence the demon hunter found himself doubting very much, despite not wanting to think ill of them. It already felt like he was back home with the orphans, trying in vain to keep them organized and safe, but this time he'd be herding chickens on a battlefield.

“If you're serious, well...I guess we'll get going.” He climbed into the passenger seat of the van, then leaned out the window. “I'll keep you safe, but please, if things look bad, you gotta turn back. No sense letting pride get ya killed.” Only at that point did he realize that the weird-looking robot girl would be coming along as well, piling along with the animal partners in their trolley.

He said nothing though, leaving Nico to follow up on his rather genuine advice. “Ya don't got yer own ride, hop in with us. Let's get this show on the road, folks!”

And in a matter of moments, she did just that.

---

The sky grew noticeably darker, bit by bit. Dark clouds seemed to surround the Dead Zone, lending it an appropriately dire atmosphere. As the incoming vehicles grew closer, sharp eyes could begin to better identify a looming tower of darkness within the city center. Too cylindrical to be natural, or a building, its monolithic coils spiraled high into the dusky air, leaving little doubt as to the dire nature of the phenomenon dominating the city. Nero and his friend remained quiet as they got closer, the presence of strangers putting a damper on what would otherwise be occasional friendly banter, but they left the radio on, and Nero did consent to light her cigarette despite clearly hating the smoke. Of the two, only Nero glanced at the sign that passed on the right heralding the ruined metropolis' name: Redgraccoon City.

Almost immediately, the zombie attacks began. Shambling, ragged, rotting things stood on the road, wandering among the wreckage in a vain, endless search. Nico showed no compunctions whatsoever about pancaking the things, crushing them into vile brownish-red pulp under her van's weight, but the smaller vehicles following behind had no such luxury. For a couple, in fact, a collision meant a totaled kart or a closer encounter of the vicious kind with a struck zombie's upper half. However, the road wasn't as full as it might have been; a few other nauseating stains suggested the passage of another sturdy vehicle a short time prior.

Nero leaned out the window, examining the road ahead. A handful of shapes loomed a short way in front of a burning truck, larger and stranger than the dead things all around. In a flash, he produced a handsome silver revolver of prodigious size from his jacket, and fired. A hole appeared in the head of one of the demons, and a second the next instant dropped it to the ground. Another, clinging to an exit sign, was too far to the left for a good shot, so instead Nero aimed for a nearby traffic sign. His bullet sheered through the metal, sending the sign spinning through the air, and with uncanny precision its sharpened pole impaled the demon straight through. While not terribly hurt, it fell from its perch with a shriek, and the pole stuck in the ground, pinning it. Nico's van hurtled by the next moment, and another demon leaped onto the driver's side. For the first time, the heroes could get a good look at it. The monster was grotesque, a lowly mockery of human flesh. Without so much as looking Nico plucked her cigarette out and smushed it against the empusa's nose, and the thing tumbled away with a shriek.

“First things first: find those kids,” Nero shouted into the rushing wind. “Once they're good, we need to meet up with a guy named V. Then, straight for the Qliphoth. I think.” The last bit he didn't enunciate quite as well. After a few twists and turns, the van came to a stop at a wreck-glutted intersection with an especially high number of zombies.

From the other side, up the street, echoing shouts could be heard and the glow of magic could be seen. How exactly the four friends from before managed to clear this infested intersection was a mystery, particularly given the presence of a couple interesting specimens, both more conspicuous and less. A few had been re-killed by empusa, who were busy harvesting blood from the corpses. “I'll get those,” Nero asserted. “Rest of you wipe out the shmucks. Let's clear a path.”

Casting him a glance, Nico leaned over. “Y'know, I could prob'ly just ram straight in, won't hurt the van too bad.”

Nero shook his head and whispered, “This'll be just a second. Plus, I need to get an idea of their abilities.” With that, he stepped outside. On his back was a gorgeous greatsword, picked up from somewhere inside the van. When he brandished it, it flowed in his hand like water, or maybe liquid fire. In that moment, before the demon hunter even took a swing, his new friends could catch a glimpse of just what sort of man they'd tagged along with.

The rap of Geralt’s fist echoed through musty, empty corridors and up dusty stairs. Despite the relative lightness of his contact, the door shook in a way that suggested neither bar nor bolt. If he so chose, Geralt could simply walk right in. A minute’s wait resulted in no response to his entreaty, an eventuality as disappointing as it was predictable. Yet, the smoke spiraling upward from the chimney suggested someone’s presence, perhaps to be found in the workshop the Witcher caught a faint glimpse of on the little castle’s second floor.

“This is a terrible idea…” Geralt muttered to himself as he reached out and pushed against the door, wondering why he always did these things. They almost never ended well. He was asking for a fight by doing this.

Moving cautiously, Geralt made his way through the interior. No winding labyrinth, it provided a straight path down the main hall, its handful of small side chambers all readily viewable thanks to their open -if not torn off- doors. A few, with purposes more in line with the wellbeing of whatever lowly viscounts might once have inhabited the place, had gone to ruin. In fact, the current tenant of the place seemed wholly dedicated to functional rather than formal affairs, judging by the neglect or outright damage of paintings, furniture, and the like. In one room, about halfway between the parlour and the curved staircase, Geralt found a supply of his sought-after wolfsbane among a collection of other herbs and gathered materials, few of which proved recognizable. He could not tarry long before his ascent, however, and with nerves at the ready Geralt soon reached the second floor.

There, an expansive alchemical laboratory awaited him. Full of devices, tomes, apparati, and random items, it was a dangerous mess, but nothing so much as the creature bent over a desk on the far side, next to a surgical rack. Wind flooding in from the open balcony wafted the Witcher’s scent his way, and after seizing up for an instant the werewolf turned his way with a snarl. His keen eyes recognized the intruder as a threat, but the beast did not attack, nor did he flee. Instead, he bared his teeth as a warning for Geralt to turn back.

Putting out a single arm in a halting gesture, Geralt stared down the werewolf. “Hold, not here to fight. Just wanted to talk, see if there’s a…peaceful solution to this. People have put out a contract for you. From what I heard, though, you’re not what they think you are.” The Witcher didn’t find himself intimidated by the beat-like creature in front of him, but he wasn’t entirely confident that this wouldn’t end in a fight, either. He just hoped that his counterpart was equally interested in a bloodless end to the drama.

A bitter look crossed the werewolf’s ugly, blue-furred face, albeit hard to identify thanks to his inhuman features. He relaxed his jaw a touch, then placed one clawed mitt against his throat. Someone as cunning as Geralt could put the simple gesture together: this monster’s physiology wasn’t built for speaking. Much plainer, however, was the wolf’s clear distaste for it. With formal human pants crammed on and braided locks of fur on his head, Sabrewulf evidenced a clear wish to be more human. As Geralt watched, his muscles twitched, and with a growl the beast reached for a bottle of murky yellow liquid on the desk and greedily swallowed it down. Then, a shoving motion, urging the Witcher to get lost.

Geralt sighed at the rejection. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for idle chit chat, not that such a thing was possible for him, apparently. Geralt assumed it was a ‘him’, that is. Shaking his head, Geralt tried reasoning with him. “They’ll only keep coming. Surely you know that? If I’m right, you won’t be gone with the week’s end, and that’ll only make them more curious. Maybe they’ll figure it out and leave you alone, but most folk...aren’t that type. They see a monster in front of them and they yell for the brave heroes to kill it, to save them.”

A rattle escaped the wolf--or was it a sigh? Either way, his manner suggested he knew the reality of his condition all too well. Just how long had this man been like this…?

He seemed to deflate a bit. “If you really want me to leave, I’ll go and spin some tale. But if you’d prefer...I might be able to help. Curses are powerful magic, sure, but I’ve broken plenty of ‘em in my time. Wouldn’t be easy, given that you can’t talk, but...I’ve dealt with harder, I dare say.” He took a step back and crossed his arms across his chest, giving the werewolf his leave to respond as it saw fit.

The instant Geralt mentioned breaking a curse, Sabrewulf turned his full attention on him. Seizing a scrap of perchment, he dipped his claw in an inkvat and scrawled something before sprinting the Witcher’s way on all fours. With an earnest grunt the monster thrust the parchment in Geralt’s face. What do you know? it read, in a barely-legible affront to the English language.

Geralt’s face screwed up a bit at the question. Deciding to be honest, he shook his head. “Each curse is different. No way will work twice, it all depends on what originally made you this way. If I can figure that out, though...well, I’ve done it before. You’d be the third werewolf I can recall breaking the curse on.” His voice tinged with optimism, Geralt nodded confidently.

A dubious noise issued from the wolf, who made his way back to his desk and quickly wrote something else out. Disease, lycanthropy, it read. Geralt could also read Sabrewulf’s blood pumping faster, the excitement of a twinge of hope egging on his heart.

Geralt’s head cocked at that. “Wait, disease? Not a curse? Damn, can’t be thinking of home at a time like this, different worlds must have different rules. Alright, can you tell me how long you’ve been this way? Or how you contracted it in the first place? I can still work from there, alchemy’s another strong suit of mine. Might be I could cook up some potion or some other treatment for you.”

He started looking around the lab, taking note of what he’d seen downstairs and what he was looking at now. Was this werewolf using wolfsbane to treat himself? If so, it was a clever, if risky, attempt at a treatment. Not that its regeneration would be slowed by anything other than direct blood exposure to the plant.

To answer Geralt’s questions, Sabrewulf first held up his claws, flashing ten, then ten, then ten again, then again and again and again. His reply might not have been the most accurate, but the implication was there: a long time. Were he able to speak, he’d be able to recite what he heard from the mechanical CEO of Ultratech: his was the longest-running and worst-suffering lycanthropic existences on record. After a brief pause, he addressed Geralt’s second question by viciously biting the air and then grasping his throat. The move left some ambiguity, but the Witcher could infer that he’d been bitten by a werewolf himself.

Geralt nodded, his brows furrowing in thought. “So...another werewolf made you this way. I wonder how it came to become a werewolf, or how far it goes back. Where I’m from, werewolves come from curses, powerful magic based in ritual and belief. By tracking the origin of that curse and destroying it, or performing some ritual, you can break the curse. Happens with other creatures, too, but those aren’t important...or...hmm. An old myth about vampires says that if you kill the master vampire, the one who turned the others, you can free the people in their thrall. Wonder if it’d work for you. Do you know who bit you?” Geralt was starting to get on a roll, chin in his hand as he thought up potential solutions.

Looking helpless and frustrated, Sabrewulf gave a loose shrug. Abruptly he left Geralt and padded over to a board of pinned-up papers and pointed out a sketch of another werewolf. It also wore pants, and sported long, flowing fur. Clearly, Sabrewulf had enough time to think of just about everything related to his condition.

Geralt gave the sketch a close look, but all he saw was a werewolf wearing different pants. Sure, if given some time he could really memorize the look, but...well, a werewolf wearing pants was a pretty unique descriptor already. Geralt was sure he’d be able to tell the difference between the two if he really needed to. Nodding, Geralt looked at the werewolf in front of him. “Do you have any idea of where he might be? I could go looking for him, maybe even...deal with him for you. Unless you’d prefer to do that yourself, that is.” He figured he’d at least offer the choice.

Though his features masked his expression, it wasn’t the hardest thing in the world to tell that Sabrewulf was giving Geralt a strange look. Why in the world would someone just waltz along and try to be such a hero? The man seemed to be going out of his way to help Sabrewulf, even if he harbored no clue as to how to actually remedy his condition. While a cooperative spirit who wouldn’t try to kill him provided a breath of fresh air, it was apparent that Geralt couldn’t ultimately aid in Sabrewulf’s goal. The beast gave a resigned murmur and scratched out on a piece of paper ‘Thank you but not help. Do what you like’, going as far as to work in capital letters.

Geralt sighed. It wasn’t uncommon that people didn’t want his help, or thought that he couldn’t help them. In this case, though...the werewolf might actually have been right. This was a different kind of situation than he was used to dealing with. Sure, maybe with time and research he could figure out some way to suppress the lycanthropy, but he didn’t quite have the luxury of sticking around to cure somebody who’d already given up hope. He had to find his way home.

“I’d like to take that sketch of yours. See if I can’t track him down myself and get some answers.” Geralt figured that it was the least he could do, see if he ran into the other werewolf during his travels.

Sabrewulf obliged him, then returned to his work. There would be no balm for him this day, but meeting with someone who displayed a genuine want to help made him feel ever so slightly better. What to do next, however, lay with Geralt.

Courier 6 settled himself back into the Bowsermobile for the rest of the ride toward the Land of Adventure, even taking the liberty of connecting his Pip-Boy’s radio to the car’s speakers again, without asking for any sort of permission. He thought it was peculiar that the only radio station coming in was Radio New Vegas, the same one he was used to back home. Was Mr. House’s AI disc jockey really situated somewhere in this strange new world? If that smooth talking, charismatic as all hell AI was operational and putting on the music, 6 hadn’t heard him coming on air for any news segment since he woke up. Not that he had had the radio on the whole time, it was only in spurts, so maybe he just missed it? Well now would be the time to find out for certain, he guessed.

6 leaned back and settled in for the drive, enjoying his tunes up until they took off. Ah, so the king was driving again. Perfect opportunity to address his continued pay, since the dragon turtle couldn’t get away or change the subject. ”Howdy pardner. We got some business to discuss.” The Courier sat forward to attention with a big ol’ smile. ”As you know, my services, well they tain’t free. That forward payment you gave me was mighty fine an’ all, but the job was to deliver you and Kirby to Peach’s castle an’, well, we’ve since moseyed on from there, ain’t we?”

The Courier paused a moment to let the facts sink in so Bowser could draw his own conclusion. ”If’n I’m gonna be doin’ more job for ya, I’ll be needin’ some compensation. If you ain’t got anything, then some favors should do nicely. First pick on equipment and such, yeah?”

Before the (most likely very angry) koopa king could respond, the music cut away to a familiar voice introducing himself over the airwaves. A smooth, strong man’s voice with the charisma to drop panties and melt hearts. His speech was both professional yet endearingly casual. Recognizing this as exactly what he was waiting for, the Courier shushed Bowser to listen intently.

“That was Kay Kaiser with ‘I Got Spurs (That Jingle Jangle),’ one of our bigger hits here on Radio New Vegas, and now you’re listening to me, Mr. New Vegas. You know, despite all the changes that have been going on lately I’ve got to say that I’m excited to have so many new listeners. But to my old friends out there, don’t worry, you’re not being replaced. I still love you.” The Courier couldn’t help but smile even as he rolled his eyes. He knew Mr. New Vegas was one of Mr. House’s AIs but that didn’t stop him from being damn endearing. “And now the news. Reports are coming in from down South that the Mushroom Kingdom Castle has been liberated from the evil clutches of the tyrannical King Bowser. Now details are a bit sketchy, but it seems a large group of assorted heroes were seen entering the castle where they deposed the Koopa King and restored the rightful ruler to the throne. But that’s not all my beautiful listeners, get this. Some say that one of these heroes was, in fact, Bowser himself! Ho boy, what a time we live in, eh?

“Our second story comes from Redgraccoon City. Eyewitnesses report seeing a giant wearing a black trenchcoat and hat roaming around the area. According to reports from these eyewitnesses, he doesn’t look like the zombies infesting the area, but he will still ruin your day. One individual spoke on the record, ‘X gonna give it to ya.’ Let me tell you my beautiful listeners, I wouldn’t want to be caught in a dark alley with someone like that.

“Our final story comes from a paid advertiser. ‘The Void Trader has returned. This weekend only, if you've got the money, you can find wonders both dashing and deadly for sale at a Tenno Relay.‘

“Well, that’s all I’ve got for you today. Before I start up the music again let me just take a moment to say that you’re all looking especially wonderful this morning. Yes, even you. Now here’s ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’ by The Ink Spots.”

Right on cue the disc jockey faded out and in his place a classic song from way way back began to emanate through the speakers. Not one of the Courier’s favorites, he found it too ironic given the world they lived in, but he largely ignored it anyway, too deep in thought. Mr. New Vegas was, in fact, still operational in this new world, and still providing news segments. That meant that he was somehow gathering information. Back in the Mojave he largely got his knowledge from the armies of Mr. House’s robots feeding data through the network they were both connected to. Would that be the same case here? Was that robot army not too far off from the castle connected to House’s (and thus Mr. New Vegas’s) network? If so, did that mean Mr. House was here and alive, the fascist dickhead? There was a lot to ponder. So much so that 6 remained quiet the rest of the drive to the Land of Adventure…

---

Once the group arrived at the LAnd of Adventure, they gave pause to view the expansive horizon and the Courier could not help but be awestruck. He had never seen so much beautiful green in his entire life! Sure, in his trips to Montana the scenery was far more friendly than his home in the Mojave, but this was something else entirely. So many plants and creatures running around, so lush and full of life. Wow. Life. So different from his world, where mankind caused the death of the planet.

The break did not last long however and soon they were off again, heading down to a town. Good, civilization. That meant quests. Quests meant rewards. Rewards meant happiness. Plus someone here might be able to point them in the direction of Galeem’s next guardian. The Courier hopped out of the Bowsermobile and, tipping his hat to the three young guards watching the door, headed on through. One of the guards suggested they check in with the Guild, which certainly sounded promising to 6. He joined alongside Princess Peach rather than break from the group, as the Hat Kid did.

As they approached, a sheriff and deputy came by to eye the group, something the Courier was familiar with. When human civilization was decimated, small settlements and rebuilding survivors tended to hand the law to a single individual to watch over everything. He was no stranger to a sheriff/deputy dynamic. The lawman’s large dog also eyed everyone as if just waiting for an order to attack. 6 walked in closely and smiled at the great hound, which relaxed instantly in his presence. He gave it a friendly scratch behind the ear and then left the sheriff behind with a simple, ”Howdy.”

Once inside the Guild a large number of adventurous looking types from old comic books and video games joined in the staring contest. By this point the Courier was starting to feel a bit annoyed. ”Ain’t no zoo animal, y’all should mind yer manners.” Well, admittedly most of the people looking him over were pretty damn attractive. Only one seemed to be strange and WHY WAS HE A BLOCK?! Instantly falling to hypocrisy the Courier could not help but stare slack jawed at the cuboid wonder that was Steve. What? How? HUH?! In a mishmash world of mutants, demons, magicians, plumbers, and aliens the one thing that gave the Courier pause… Was a man whose body resembled blocks.

---

---

After some brief deliberation it was decided that Ratchet would follow behind Nero and Nico’s van in the Blue Falcon kart, same as he had been driving, while Jak and Daxter would ride in the back of the van. Jak wanted to ride alongside them on his jetboard in turbo mode, but Daxter thought that left them way too exposed and he wasn’t in any mood to get chomped on by some zombie. Thus a ride in the back of the van it was.

Daxter of course made himself no end of nuisance for the owners of the vehicle, commenting on the plethora of trophies and gadgets inside, darting around to touch things he had no business touching, and speaking rudely about Nico’s crazy driving all the way up. Thankfully the much more level-headed Jak kept Daxter from doing anything too dangerous, but even he had to admit that while Nico was a badass driver, she was a rather reckless one. He couldn’t wait to get back behind the wheel and show them how a real driver handles a vehicle.

As the sky grew darker, all parties took notice. Ratchet couldn’t help but feel how appropriately named the Dead Zone was, given the ambiance. ”Jeez, who turned down the dimmer on the sun? This place is more sour than Jak’s face whenever he gets pissed off.” Daxter commented, perching himself up on the armrest of Nero’s seat.

The group passed by a large sign indicating the name of the city: Redgraccoon City. Weird name, didn’t seem to mean anything to any of them. Red made sense, but what was a “graccoon?” Well it didn’t matter, because soon enough the zombies Nero promised were in sight. And Nico made an effort to crush as many as she could as they made their way up.

Following a decent distance behind, Ratchet suddenly had an idea. ”Hey Clank?”

“Yes?” answered his little robot buddy, appearing in striker form.

”Ever since we got here, my arsenal has been really lacking. Let’s take advantage of the zombies getting run over to restock!”

“Hohohohoho, most definitely!” Ratchet and Clank immediately got to work, slowing down a bit to give them a better reaction time. Ratchet steered the kart to close in on crushed zombies while Clank extended his arms out, stretching them with his robotic abilities, to snatch up the spirits as they went by. Some were still too dangerous to go after, and some were missed, but the duo worked hard at keeping pace with the van and collecting as many spirits as they could. Then Nero shot a couple of demons out the window, opening up a new opportunity.

”Hold on, Clank!” Ratchet jerked the wheel hard to the side, drifting toward a ramp made of wreckage. The Blue Falcon kart jumped through toward the demon Nero had crushed with a street sign, injured but still alive. Ratchet pulled out his Omniwrench and, with both arms and added momentum from the kart’s jump, crushed its head. As they passed by, Clank stretched out his arms, barely grabbing onto the still-forming spirit orb. ”WOOHOO-aw crud!”

A zombie torso, severed at the waist but still alive, fell from up high and landed right on the hood of the kart! ”Get off! I can’t see!” Ratchet yelped, smacking at the undead abomination with his wrench. It ignored the first few whacks, reaching forward with clammy, bony hands, but another good hit to the temple sent the torso off the side. Ratchet was once again back in control, and now in possession of a few spirits he could turn into equipment!

After a few more twists and turns the van, and thus Ratchet behind, came to a halt at a ruined intersection. Nero came out of the van giving orders and brandishing a greatsword, which was gorgeous but honestly didn’t impress Jak or Daxter too much. Ratchet on the other hand was more willing to play along with Nero’s orders.

”You know what’s going on better than we do. I’ll just have to trust your advice on this on-”

”Listen here snowflake-head! We didn’t come here to help you clean up the trash! Jak and I have taken on every scare thing the world can throw at us, including mutated dark alien gods, for more adventures than I can count!” Jak leapt out from the van, Daxter in tow and morph gun in hand, grim determination on his face.

”You asked us to come kick some ass, so don’t complain when we do it. You in, Ratchet?”

The previously cautious Ratchet threw all hesitation out the window with his rivalry with Jak reignited. He crushed each of the spirits in his hands, one in turn, then fired two explosive proximity charges into the swarm of empusas using his bombbuilder. Jak answered the call to action by switching the morph gun to Vulcan Fury mode and began firing into the crowds of zombies and demons alike with rapid fire high-penetration rounds of blue eco. The kill contest had officially begun!

@Gentlemanvaultboy @Lugubrious

Din was surprised at her transformation, but not too surprised, having seen enough of her allies go through something similar. She felt invigorated, empowered. She looked over the Gogoat, worried that the pokemon wouldn't recognize her. But it stared at her and approached her as if nothing had changed. The bond between pokemon and trainer was certainly something special. Before Din could really test out what she was newly capable of, it seemed the group wanted to head out, with a smaller half of the group heading off in a different direction. Though most of them were newer people she didn't know, she was loathe to see Ratchet go, since she liked the small lombax, who was decidedly less small since the battle at Peach's Castle. She ultimately based her decision to head with the main group on Blazermate going with the other group, since Din felt each group needed a healer. Meanwhile, Peach apologized to the owners for the damage that had been done to the garage, and Din joined in, along with Linkle. Din considered dancing at the next town for money to help fulfill Linkle's promise to pay back the owner. She also felt bad that Poppi was now damaged, and they couldn't stay to have her repaired.

Climbing onto Gogoat, Din rode on beside the Bowsermobile through the Land of adventure and onward to Lumbridge. Along the way, Peach asked Din if she wanted to have the soul of Storm Eagle removed, but Din declined. Not only was she curious about her new body, but she also felt that she needed to start pulling her weight, and the bit of added power that absorbing a soul would definitely help for that. However, upon approaching the city gate, Din shouted, "Oh my Goddesses!" She rode up to the green-clad guard, a 'Link' in a form she was more familiar with. "Link! Is that...is that you?" She asked, unsure if this was the child who had saved her what seems like a lifetime ago. "Linkle! Look! One of your incarnations!"

@ProPro@Lugubrious

---

When the group finally rolled up to the village the back door of the rabbid's truck popped open as the three jumpers bounced out of the door and into the open grassland, one flying right out and into a tree with the assistance of his brethren. He started swinging from a low branch as the other two laughed it up.

Linkle followed them out, stretching out and taking a deep breath of the fresh, cool air. Even with the hint of exhaust still floating in the air the feeling was unmistakable. "Ahhhhh. It even smells like a Hyrule. Hey Tora, you wanted to know what the world I came from was like?" She said, starting to turn and help him carry Poppi out of the back. "It was like this."

She helped Tora at least until she hearted Din give a shout. Upon hearing yhe news she rushed around the front of the truck and stopped cold as she laid eyes on one of the guards posted at the entrance of the village they were about to enter. To most people such a young boy would be completely unassuming in any village. Even his position here, trusted with ensuring the safety of the village, would come only as a surprise to most considering his age. Linkle knew though. She knew exactly who this was. From the green tunic, to hair, to the hand with which he gripped his sword, his identity was unmistakable.

"You're the Hero of Time!" She managed to squeal out before her throat was filled up with frog. She usteadly stepped forward till she was right beside Din and her loyal goat, shaking with excitement and trying to figure out what you were supposed to say in this situation. She had never actually thought about what she was going to say tell a fellow hero once she met them. After all, how were you supposed to talk to yourself without making it weird?

All right, all right, now wasn't the time to panic. He was just a person, Din was right here, she had already got the ball rolling, everything was fine. Treat it like anyone else. Start by introducing yourself. "Hi, I'm you." No!!

She threw up her hands in a pleading gesture. "No, wait, I'm you from the future...no, wait, that's not right. you already did that. I'm you but after you die. No, no, that's even worse." She pounded herself on the chest, closed her eyes, and took three deep breaths to they and stabilized herself. Once she felt like she could speak without putting her foot in her mouth she opened up her eyes and said, slowly. 'I'm Linkle. I'm a Hero of Hyrule, like you. You know, reincarnated? I'm sorry if this is weird. It's just that you're, like, the one legend that all the others get compared to."

She looked around awkwardly, teying to basically will the charming Din to help smooth this over before Linkle died of embarrassment. As she was looking around, though, she laid eyes on Tora slowly dragging Poppi through the gate. That reminded her of her priorities. After all, the state Poppi was in was partially her fault as much as the damage done to the old mans garage. She wasn't going to be paying back that dept by standing here starstruck, especially if everyone moved on without her. Not to mention the sight of it made her feel like, maybe, she didn't exactly deserve to stand in the presence of the greatest of them right now. She turned regretfully back to the Hero of Time. "Sorry, I have to go. I don't want to get left behind. But, would it be all right if we talked later? You can talk to Din right now, though. She's great. She definely knew an us. Maybe she knew you, maybe that was actually you." Babbling, she was starting to babble again. "I should go." She said quickly.

She hardly waited for an reply as she rushed over to Tora, retreating from any possible refusal and doing her best to help support Poppi's weight as they made their way into town. As they made their way through it certainly seemed like a rustic place, much more familiar to her than the arid garage. Her hometown was was very similar to this, save for the castle that served as it's centerpiece. As they made their way past the animal paddocks, which she paid special attention too expecting to find Cukoo's happily pecking away, an old song drifted into her mind that she absentmindedly began to whistle as they made their way down main street.

She had to part ways with Tora and Poppi at the guild hall as the two of them left her company and Tora was left to lug the Blade the rest of the way on his own.

In contrast to the cowboys rudeness at the assorted looks the eclectic group drew from the residents of the hall Linkle just gave everybody a hearty wave. She looked up at him as his attention was drawn by something and followed his gaze to the bizarre cube man sitting by himself. He seemed dumbstruck for a moment by the cube man, so she tapped the cowboy on the back to get his attention. "Sometimes things are just cubes." She said, remembering the cube zombies, the cube spiders, and the cube whatever-you-call-those-scary-things-that-teleport. She pulled out her cube bow and gave the impossibly cuboid string a pluck to play a perfectly ordinary twang.

Actually, since that guy was a whole cube person he might know something that had been bugging her for a while. She broke off from the group momentarily and approached the cube man. "Hi." She said. "This might be kind of weird, but you seem like the sort of person who'd know what these are."

She pulled the weird black cookies out and laid them on the table, where they balanced upright and floated in little circles. After a brief, enlightening conversation, she walked back up to the cowboy with the two things in her hand to show him. "Where he's from this is what gunpowder looks like."