"...dy ...une...?"

"...ady... M...une...?"

"Lady Masamune!"

Third time's the charm, and with the familiar voice's volume raised, a soft and light yawn escaped the mouth of the woman on the bed. The bed, which was a circular-shaped matress and covered with a thin, but very luxurious-looking, silk sheet of a regal red color. Under said sheet lay the woman who was being spoken to, the sheet snuggly aroudn her form and showcasing her rather curvy and alluring physique, with her snow-white hair cascading down across her shoulders and over her rather most-certainly bare chest - conveniently covering any bits that shouldn't be seen by others. With a pair of fluffy fox-ears on her head, which twitched at the sound of the voice, and eyes that slowly opened to reveal a pair of amethyst-colored eyes that lazily looked about the room, this wa the typical morning for the mistress of the Shadowtower Shrine, Ashara Masamune.

Sitting up on the bed, with some effort in steadying herself, a burst of white shot out from underneath and behind her, revealing the nine tails of the fox-spirit as they swayed and danced behind her back as she sat on the bed and looked about. Next to the bed, with arms held at her waist and a grumpy expression on her face, was a familiar sight - the none-too-imaginatively named Mikoto, dressed in her miko-garb. She was a fox-girl too, albeit with only three tails, and golden -blondehair and fur instead of white. Her eyes were also red as rubies, but oherwise, except for a slimmer build and smaller bust, she could have passed for Ashara's little sister - which to some degree, she also was.

"Ah, good morning Mikoto." Ashara said sleepily with a soft smile.
"Don't you 'good morning' me, Lady Masamune! Jeez, do you even know what time it is?"
"Hm.... Dawn, maybe...?"
"No, wrong. It's late! And worse yet, you've been summoned to the Lord's Chambers! A butler just stopped by and delivered the summons to us."
"Oh, I see... Well, what's for breakfast then?"
"... What?"
"Breakfast? The meal you eat in the mroning?"
"I KNOW WHAT BREAKFAST IS! I'm ASKING WHY YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT THAT?!"
"So loud, Mikoto... I can't very well go see the Lords on an empty stomach, now can I? A rumbling belly and weary visage would be most unbecoming."
"Now see here..." Mikoto began, but stopped as Ashara slid off the bed, in all her absence-of-any-undergarment glory, and walked over the other fox, giving her a warm embrace.
"Come, let us eat something together."

Out through a pair of sliding, paper-windowed doors, the two then went, into a slightly larger room that appeared to be a common-section. There wasn't much here, save for some stools, a knee-high table, some vandles and lanterns and a few other things like benches, stands and small decorations of flowers and the like. Somehow now dressed in her trademark outfit, Ashara sat down at the table, joined by a red-faced Mikoto (who's tails were still wagging).

"Say, Mikoto..."
"Y-yes, what is it?"
"HAve you noticed something this morning?"
"Noticed, what exactly, my lady?"
"How do I put it... The air in the shrine feels... Off, somehow."
"Off? Ah, you mean that it's a bit chillier than usual?"
"Is that what it is? I wonder..."
"Maybe it's just a bit colder than usual today?"
"Perhaps..."

As the two discussed, a pair of new-arrivals entered from the door on the opposite end of the room. These two, also drssed as shrine maidens, were a pair of catws, with two tails each. They had small wooden trays in their hands, with various small plates of food, mostly very light things. Placing them down infront of the foxes, they bowed politely and left the area, leaving the two vulpine women to eat in peace. A quiet meal was had, eaten with chopsticks and in relative silence, with only the occasional clinking when the wooden utensils hit the poecelain. After their meal, hands were clappd, food was thanked and then the two rose to leave.

Going out the same door the cat-girls had come and gone through, they stepped out onto the porch of the shrine. Here, one could finally see the Shadowtower Shrine and all the grounds. The shrine itself was a medium-sized, wooden building of clearly japanese design, and the courtyard was paved with stone tiles, while still keeping patches of grass in secluded sections. There were things like a small coy-pond, a japanese water-fountain, a drying rack for laundry and other such small, niche things strewn about. To the south was the large, red tori-gate, which one had to reach by ascending the winding, narrow-stpped staircase that spanned most of the length of the tower itself. The area around the shrine though, which lay on a pillar-like plateau inside the towrr, was dark and almost reminded one of a starless night. With the exception of the many paper lanterns that lit the courtyard and sides of the buildings - the shrine and the detachment quarters for the other girls - the only other light came from the lazy, docile ghosts and spirits that floated about in the air like aimless balloons. It was a very calm and quiet place,w ith only the pitter-patter of wooden sandals breaking the quiet stillness.

In the yard, many monster-girls milled about, doing various chores, from sweeping to gardening to laundry to carrying items. Ashara smiled softly at the sight - it really looked like just another peaceful day in the Chateau. However, a hand on her shoulder soon brought her attention back to the present, as she turned to look at a worried Mikoto.

"My lady, the summons..."
"Ah, yes of course. Shall we go then?"
"... My lady..."
"Hm, what's the matter?"
"... The summons were only for those in the castle who are above level 40..."
"... What...?"

Ashara's usually calm and serene face was gentuinely surprised. A look of both bewilderment and contemplation washed across the fox-girl's face. What was this all of a sudden? Not only was it rare for the Wandering Executioner to be summoned to the Throne Room of the Lords, but now the call for was only for those of higher strength throughout the entire castle? Mikoto was no slouch, being the highest-level miko at the shrine (at level 35), but for her not to be called alongside Ashara? This was no summons by Lady Deka_Ribbon, that was for sure. Honestly though, that should have been clear from the start - Lady Deka_Ribbon wouldn't have called them away from the shrine, she would have just popped on over herself and visited instead. Perhaps it wasn't just the air feeling colder that was off today after all...

"Mikoto, I'm going then, to answer the calls of our Lords."
"Yes, good luck and please be careful on your way."

Though she would have normally taken the time to walk down the staircase, this seemed urgent enough to warrant her concern. Also, given that she'd spend time eating breakfast, it might be a good idea to - for once - try and get about a little faster. As such, the nine-tailed fox-lady walked on across the courtyard, to a much smaller tori-gate (that was blue in color) on the eastern edge of the grounds. Sighing, she stepped on through - and as she did, her body burst into cherry blossom petals in a very cliché fashion, complete with the sound of multiple ringing bells.

...

In the next moment, she was now standing in the foyer of the castle's ground floor. That teleport was something Deka_Ribbon had installed for those who didn't want to climb the stairs all the way down again. The catch, however, was that only people with sufficient mana pools could use it - as the gate used the character's MP to translocate them. And it wasn't cheap. For Ashara, use of this one-way teleport cost almost 80% of her total mana, meaning she could only make use of it as long as she had max MP. Still, it was a quick - though inelegant - way of getting to the bottom of the chateau fast.

Looking around at the Bone Butlers, hurriedly milling about and moving their skeletal bodies in a frantic race, she continued on her way, walking elegantly and unrushed towards the first Chapter. Each step she took caused the bells around her ankles to jungle slightly, and her straight and proper posture made it look like she was gliding across the floor, rather than walking. Still, she likely wouldn't be the first tor each the Climax Hour, but hopefully she wouldn't be the last either.

The moment the door slid open, the skeleton butler could detect the change in the air. Before him stretched a dark hallway wreathed in drifts of humid midst, its contours alien and unmistakably organic. While the City of Lost Things instilled tended to instill powerful feelings of loneliness, abandonment, and cold, unfeeling indifference, this place was alive with activity—and depending on one's definition, 'alive' itself. Vents and fans regulated the air, the walls felt warm to the touch, and never-ceasing was the whir, grind, and moan of complicated things moving in the distance.

Barely did the post-mortem manservant get a couple hundred feet into the Factory before he was intercepted. As he neared the first junction, a T-joint with a heavy door in the middle obscuring the foremost manufacturing chamber, an appalling band of wretched things lurched around the corner. At first glance they were men, reminiscent of soldiers from a bleak, wartorn era far removed of Yggdrasil's, but no such assertion could survive a second glance. Their flesh, stretched and molded like clay, integrated with their daunting, impersonate masks so seamlessly as to beg the question: were those masks their faces, after all? If eyes lay behind those murky lenses, their fishlike gloss distorted them too thoroughly to tell. The sight of artifice and modification interceded in their bodies so deeply, even through their skulls and into their brains, painted a vivid picture of howling screams in a mad science lab. However, from the way these things moved and spoke, slurred and staggered as if in a dream, any onlookers tended to find themselves doubting that the Guards were ever human to begin with.

A round of exclamations in a distorted, alien tongue, more bilious coughs than speech, echoed through the hall as the patrol spotted the intruder. It took just a moment for the visitor, held at gunpoint, to identify himself and his purpose. Then the group was off, a loathsome escort to bring the bony butler to the Director. They marched him through winding corridors laden with abhorrently lifelike decorations, past foggy windows offering a view of hideous machinations writhing in perpetuity, past skittering things with taut human skin over metal bones, and to the Director's sanctum.

---

Graft awoke with a start and a long, gasping breath, as if from a nightmare. He went to stand, only to find that he couldn't. Fear nipped at the recesses of hid mind as he struggled for a moment before attempting to look down. The quizzical glance downward, itself not the easiest task, explained his predicament: the floor had grown over him. A dry chuckle escaped him, prompting him to swallow and refresh his desiccated artificial inner-mouth. To think something so mundane had been giving him trouble...how long had he been asleep?

At a simple impulse, the growth receded, releasing its master from its bond. Graft thought nothing of it, since the floor was by no means intelligent. Like moss, it just spread over whatever came its way. That, of course, ignited his curiosity. Just how long had he been here? Brushing off the remaining scraps of the nanoflesh cocoon that surrounded him, Graft stood, cracking his joints in quick succession. “Whoo! Good heavens, am I stiff.” As the last tentacle his the ground, he regained his full height, and twisted his back from side to side. The delirium of sleep was clearing, and he could start to remember. “I was...working. With someone important...oh, yes! Goodness, how could I forget! Lady Penn!” He rapped his cane twice on a patch of floor a few feet away from him. Unlike where he ended up, the ground here bore some kind of unnatural taint from beyond the stars. Graft knew it as the unmistakable signature of the presence of his illustrious creator, the genius and visionary Brushen Penn.

The annals of history surely knew her legend as well as Graft did; once a Brain Sucker fallen from space, she'd devoured the minds of uncountable victims, stockpiling the intellect and artistic sense of each. Nowadays, a veritable Great Old One and an Astrologian of unparalleled splendor, she stood as one of the fabled Bandersnatch Lords, and Graft labored as her trusty subordinate. Her memory provoked a proud smile from her creation. Some gaps existed, but he filled them in without trouble as he continued piecing together what happened. “And I was helping her with her inventory! She had just vanquished some munificent foe, described as a 'World Boss'. Following this achievement, she said she would be going for a while, and decided to reorganize, undoubtedly to preserve her legacy in most glorious fashion. And in my humble office, too! Afterward I knelt to wait for her return.” His eyes landed on the tainted patch again, so faded, then on the shredded bits piled at his feet. The wait had been long...very long. Where had his Lady been?

A few seconds passed, with the contented hum of industry in the background, before Graft shrugged with a smile. “Oh, well!” He told himself. “No use sitting around. I've got a Factory to run! I am in the business of business, after all. What would Lady Penn say if she returned to see I let the place fall to ruin!?” Picking up his cane, the Director speedwalked over to the window of his office. He planted his palms on the sill, peering out into the Testing Room. As ever, bits both organic and artificial rained from the various chutes through the grill ringing the chamber's outside edge, joining the stream leading to the Processing Center. In the center of the Testing Room, his latest creation slepy idly. A beast of bone and black nanoflesh, it made mockery of Yggdrasil's wyverns, yet appeared far less abominable than most of the Factory's new products. Making a mental note to get some Guards in to test the unnamed monster later. “I must run a tour immediately,” he reflected. While the Factory stood as a well-oiled machine that could not have failed to stand the test of time, just keeping on as usual did not satisfy Graft. His enterprise needed to get bigger, bolder, and better, and it needed to get there now. Graft could not rest while tomorrow was calling!

He pushed off from the windowsill, bounced his cane off the ground, caught it, and started to move. “Papillary!” he called for his assistant, opening a new line of communication with his special skill. “Get in here!” The industrialist bustled over to his office's door, provoking the neural sensor above it to look him over and slide the door open. So enthusiastic was he that he nearly bowled straight through the crowd at his front door. Instead, he slid to an elegant halt. “Well, that was fast,” he grinned, talking through his teeth. “Although, I remember Mirir being a bit prettier. Hahaha!” Before him, the Guards looked nonplussed, and the skeleton butler a touch confused. Before he could say anything, Graft continued. “I kid, I kid! Look young man, you've got to learn to stand up for yourself. Too bad you don't have the...guts!” No reaction. Graft shrugged, rolling his eyes. He placed his cane on front of himself and leaned on it with both hands, saying, “huh, must have misplaced your funny bone. Well, since I don't sell a sense of humor yet, I'm guessing you're here for me. What can I do for you, good sir?”

The butler delivered his summons, prompting Graft to stroke his goatee. “The Lords are calling everyone, hmm?” Whoever it was doing the calling, Penn wasn't among them. Graft could say with almost complete certainty that she hadn't returned since disappearing from his office, given the stain left by her presence. Maybe more importantly, what could possibly warrant pulling everyone of note from their posts? If the Chateau were under attack, the Chapters would already be on lockdown, and a more urgent form of communication would be enacted than skeleton postman. “Well, not like I can refuse!” he told the butler cheerily. “At the very least, I can arrange a meeting with Miss Kath afterward to bargain for a better look at her trade logs.”

At that moment, a voice came to Graft through the channel opened by his skill, Open Line. “Apologies, Director!” An odd, burbling high-pitched voice reached him. “I was just...uh...”

Graft cut her off. “Whatever it is, put a pin in it! I'm going to a meeting with the Board, and I'll need a complete inspection on my desk when I get back.”

“Yes, Director!” Papillary sounded almost as earnest as her boss. No doubt she wanted to try and prove herself useful. Unlike Graft, she wasn't made for this job, and he doubted their creator ever intended for them to work together. The poor girl couldn't be doing what she was meant to all the time, however, especially with Penn gone, so Graft took her under his wing. Without a lick of innovation, craftsmanship, or business sense in her, she at least served as a capable secretary, and her Cook levels made her useful for anyone who still needed to eat, including him.

Graft nodded. “Very good!” Picking up his cane again, he took off at a brisk pace for the nearest hidden elevator. If not for their like, he would have needed to proceed through all four following chapters himself, which would be neither quick nor enjoyable. After stepping inside, Graft selected a destination and waited to be whisked away to the Final Chapter.

---

Before long, the Fodder Baron set foot inside that very place. Immediately the gravity of the room settled upon him, as though the air itself was being choked from his augmented lungs. Carrying his cane rather than walking with it to avoid the possibility of leaving a hole in the lush red carpet, he proceeded at a steady pace through the dead silence. Ahead, the pitch-black thrones of the Ten Bandersnatch Lords loomed, all as immaculate as they were unoccupied save one. There, sprawled atop his seat, was Rodias. Other than by reputation, Graft knew him poorly. A few times he stopped by the Factory for some item or another, but he was by no means a favorite customer. As far as he knew, Rodias also boasted the unique status of being one of the only Bandersnatch Lords to have not created a subordinate. Now, only he sat here ready to receive the guild's elite.

Graft approached, trying to get a sense of how close would be appropriate, before kneeling. He laid his cane in front of him, and declared. "My lord. Director of the Factory, Third Floor Chapter Keeper, Vitaphagas Graft reporting. Awaiting your orders." Was that reverent enough? Having Brushen Penn at his creator did not do wonders for his sense of formality.

“What a fucking weakass excuse, no surprise there I suppose. ‘It’s all just a game I don’t need to stress myself about it’ a literal selfish way to justify being a dick to everyone. You always bitched about not having a girlfriend and getting pushed around at work, but blind to see how the person you are in the dark is someone no woman wants, and is a bottom bitch to literally anyone else.”

The odd, final words of Mamoru’s creator. She was present only long enough to be commanded to leave the room as her creator prepared to battle against the others creators, not entirely an unusual occurrence. His righteous fury was something that Mamoru understood and supported well. He was a warlike man, yes, but always used his powers to challenge others to be greater, to use their power to rise to the top instead of merely dominating the weak. Mamoru believed him to be a man who would never use his powers to abuse his underlings, and had the conviction to always defy tyrants. So it is little wonder he never got along too well with his fellow Creators when their ideals clashed. He always returned to her after these battles. But he never came back from the last one.

Mamoru looked around her room, sitting up from her couch. She had been lazing about as she often does, napping or thinking about things. While most warriors may use this opportunity to train, Mamoru’s passive abilities allowed her perfect retention of her martial skills and they will never degrade even without use. Which gave her plenty of time to goof off and occasionally work. As she went to put her shoes on for a walk a skull on her coffee table began to rattle. The “Bone Phone” as her Creator called it. It allows her to contact all and any of the skeletal butlers in the chateau. Through it she received word that the Sable Lord, Rodias, wishes to have an audience with the Chapter Keepers as well as his higher level officers. That would include Mamoru.

She felt a bit excited. It has been so long since she had finally had something to do. Ever since her Creator left, no one has ever called upon her services, meaning she had only ever been in her chambers here or the Skeleton Quarter to deal with her minions. Speaking of which as Mamoru left she went into said quarters. Although the undead needed no rest nor food, their arrangements were organized similarly to military bunks, with each skeleton owning a bed and box to contain their personal belongings, which they usually lacked. This was a hold over from the Chateau’s earlier days before they had skeletal butlers and used homunculi, who did require rest and food. Nowadays the beds serve more as the skeletons individual address and their storage boxes as a means to retain items given to them that has not been specifically told to return, such as petty loot and costumes from the Creators. Thus just about every Skeleton Butler had things like party hats, festive elf ears, and arrow-through-the-head accessories for whenever the Creators feel whimsical.

But near Mamoru’s own room say a large wooden desk. It had a few trinkets such as an hourglass, some stationery, a dragon’s tooth, and a small narrow vase with a preserved flower in it. But the important thing was the magic book. This book was no spell tome: instead it not only controls all the Skeleton Butlers, but also monitors the cleanliness level of the Chateau. It was the sort of “main menu” for Mamoru it anyone else to know what part of the guild needed any maintenance, service, security, or simply to send some Skeletons over to make them useful. At the moment the vast majority of the skeletons were on standby mode and that would not do at all. While the cleanliness levels of all the rooms in the Chateau were above 95% (relative to what would be defined as clean for the rooms of course), she would not allow her minions to stand idly by while work could be done! So to save her time from having to do this later, she sent the skeletons to begin routine maintenance as well as security patrol. Of course the messenger skeletons may continue their duties: Mamoru would never directly override the commands of a Creator.

With that done all Mamoru needed to do now was to find the Creator. An easy enough task, but one she must do with haste now that she had spent precious time dwaddling about. Fortunately she had just the thing for that. “Dragon Dance.” Standing with her feet shoulder length apart Mamoru started a furious yet graceful dance, creating draconic imagery as she moved. Her body glowed with power as her physical and magical strength were bolstered, however this activated a contingency that Mamoru had just set up. “Gambit: Power Swap.” In the same instance her dance empowered her, Mamoru immediately reallocated those bonus stats points into agility. Which in turn activated another Gambit. “Gambit: Automaize.” With this Ability she maxed out her agility to ensure full super sonic speed for a short while, more than long enough to make up for lost time. More so since the meeting place, Climax Hour, was a fair bit of a ways away from the Skeleton Quarters. Fortunately with Mamoru’s new agility where she was going she wouldn’t need stairs.

“Prepare the trebuchet!”

---

Mamoru would enter the room with a slow, methodical pace, acting as the graceful maiden she is. Never mind that her method of travel and arrival could be at best described as “Ballistic”. Like any proper maid, she makes sure to look refined and pure on the surface, and keeps the dirty details hidden. At the Climax Hour she would bow her head and curtsy. “Mamoru Dracobreaker, Manager Maid of Steel, at your service.”

Step

step

step

Step

Inspect Beast.

Analyzing...

Beast loyalty is <= 60.

Casting bardic taunt.

Casting enthrall.

Casting dominate beast.

The npc named Kaldorna locked eyes with the hydra before her, its many eyes focused solely on her after a series of attention drawing spells. Both where deep down in the depths of the Beast Pens, a labyrinthine dungeon that sprawled beneath the Chateau, and separated by a series of iron bars that were more a suggestion than an actual form of containment to the hulking serpentine monstrosity. As the two stared one another down various stable thralls went about their business, pathing their way around the immobile mistress of monsters carrying some of the last of the Chateau’s feed down into the depths while others returned to the surface with waste from the beasts and rubble carved out of the rock by the endless digging of dwarven thralls who worked tirelessly to expand the pens ever further and deeper.

Beast loyalty is >= 90.

Pet beast.

Turn.

step

step

step

step

Kaldorna took one more step along the corridor and then the clock struck midnight. She stopped, stretched and yawned, before catching herself in the middle of doing this and awkwardly moving a hand to cover her wide open mouth.

”Oh deary me.” she spoke to the halls after finishing her first independent action before sighing and adding ”Well I’m glad nobody saw that unprofessional bit of behavior.”

She shook her head slightly and started walking more quickly than she had been before she was a person. There were only a few more stops on her circuit around the pens. Once she was done she could take a well deserved break.

---

After checking the last of the numerous beast in the cages Kaldorna entered the aquatic section of the pens and approached the Hunters Lodge. The Lodge itself was a dilapidated galleon that floated in a vast subterranean pool housing numerous aquatic beasts, connected to the rest of the pens by a floating catwalk. As she walked across the floating gangway a few creatures surfaced briefly to inspect the one coming so close to their realm before sinking back into the depths of the underground lake.

Within she found most of Sun200’s hunters and some of his/her subordinate beast tamers/handlers lazing around in the tavern found within, each and every one of which was a vampire that had been sired by Sun200. They were dressed in snappy aristocratic attire adjusted to suit their particular trades, which meant sturdy armor and weapons made to hurt but not necessarily kill beasts of all shapes and sizes. They had all been worked to the bone over the last few days as their master pushed himself to his limit trying to finish his collection during several sleepless nights. Now the vampires sat around the various benches and stools found in the rustic tavern, which looked like it had been ripped straight off of a dockside somewhere and shoved into the ship’s internals, partaking in the house’s special: Monster blood.

“Kaldorna! There’s our master’s favorite beastmaster. I take it you’ve finally finished your rounds?” called out one vampires who Kaldorna recognized as Arthanar, the Hunt’s Captain.

”I have, no thanks to you all. The pens are quite literally overflowing with new creatures of all shapes and sizes.” Kaldorna replied, with not a hint of malice in her tone despite the words she had chosen. ”The hunt that filled them up must have been quite the performance.”

“Aye it was quite the successful hunt we had. The master was dead on his feet by the end of it. Well, more dead than usual. You must be too. Come. Sit. Take a load off and we’ll tell you all about it.” the hunter said, beckoning her over to his table.

”Your too kind.” she replied, before joining him and the others vampires seated with him before ordering a drink from a barboy. Abyssal squid blood to be exact, fresh from the tap.

Just as she was settling in and her compatriots were getting ready to tell the tale of their grand hunt there came the sound of yelling from outside.

“Move! Get out the way you bloodless sack of bones I have a message to deliver!” someone who sounded like they were sprinting down the gangway to the Lodge shouted.

”how rude.” came the response from whoever the first individual was yelling at, followed moments later by a splash.

A young vampire burst through the doors and asking frantically “Where’s the master?”

“The master is resting and cannot be disturbed” replied the Hunt’s captain replied immediately, which was their understanding of what logging off ment.

”Why do you need them? Whatever is the matter and...” Kaldorna took a closer look at the vampire before recognising him as one of the unfortunate saps who had drawn a lot to go right back out into the wilds on meat acquisition duty so soon after ending their last hunt. ”Why aren’t you out in the forest hunting? The masters collection requires sustenance!”

“We can’t. The forest. Its gone!” the vampire replied, sounding like even he could scarcely believe what he was saying.

”Gone? Whatever do you mean? How can a forest simply be gone?”

“I. I don’t know! We were getting ready to set out and then the forest just wasn't there anymore. There was just stony ground. I think we were at the top of a mountain? Restlina shut the doors and called the hunt of as soon as we saw something was wrong and sent me here.” the messenger explained hurriedly.

Conversion erupted among the vampires, everyone there having something to say or ask and nobody managed to be heard over everyone else.

Kaldorna ignored this sound and instead walked towards the door where someone was politely knocking. She pushed the news bringing vampire aside and opened it, revealing a soaking wet skeletal butler.

”Greetings” it said while pulling an octopus with thorns covering its tentacles from its ribcage and tossing it back in the water. ”I am here to deliver a message.”

”One moment.” she told the butler who she could barely hear over the uproar within, before turning, reaching into her coat and retrieving her Wand of Commentary. She inhaled and then spoke into the microphone shaped item.

”SILENCE!” the woman’s voice echoed through the chamber, bringing an abrupt end to the discussion.

”Thank you darlings.” she told the other vampires before turning back to their skeletal guest ”Now, you were saying?”

”em. Yes. as I was saying, I am here to deliver a message from young master Rodias. He summons all residents of the Chateau with of a level of 40 or higher to a meeting to be held in the Final Hour. Immediately”

“The half-blood?” Arthanar said after the butler was finished “What does that lord want with us do you think?”

”I believe we already know.” Kaldorna said before jerking her head towards the messenger vampire. As Arthanar nodded in agreement Kaldorna raised her microphone to her lips once more and addressed the crowd before they could explode back into discussion over this latest bet of news.

”Ladies and gentlemen. I know that whoever might be going on is strange and possibly frightening, but our Masters are already aware and will surely lead us through this turmoil. Have faith, but also be prepared! Sharpen your swords, load your pistols, prime your traps, saddle your mounts and be ready to set out at a moments notice! For if our masters need sharp eyes and sharper fangs to investigate this curious situation we will be ready to ride into mystery and danger for them. Now go, prepare, and await our return!”

The beast tamers practically jumped out of their seats as they raced to obey while the hunters paused in doing so to glancing at Arthanar. After he nodded blood was downed in a few gulps by many a hunter before they all raced for the door. Kaldorna smiled and nodded to herself as they rushed to obey.

”Now then, Arthanar, if you’d care to join me?” she asked the Hunt’s Captain.

“Aye of course, let's go find out this malarky is all about.”

With that the two vampires stepped out of the door and headed for the Final Hour at a brisk pace. They had quite a few floors to climb to get there after all.

---

Kaldorna and Athanar arrived in the climax hour after stepping a convenient person sized hole in found at the top of the chateaux that someone had very recently opened up. After commanding the colossal spider they had acquire and ridden up to the hole after spotting the shortcut it back down to an awaiting handler Kaldorna note that ”The head maid is sure to go ballistic at whoever made this mess” before the two vampires headed for the throne room.

When they entered they stepped around the Chapter Keeper who was enthralled in a discussion with himself about the possibility of making memorabilia for the room and presented themselves before Rodias. Kaldorna gave the Dhampir a Vampiric salute/bow (a slight kneel with her fist held over her heart, her face looking upwards and her head tilted to one side to bare the neck in submission) and was joined in doing so after a few moments of hesitation by Arthanar.

”Kaldorna and Arthanar of the Beast pens. We are at your eternal service my lord.” she said, introducing herself and the Hunt’s Captain to Rodias.

Since Dr.Drd's sudden disappearance years ago, Salem had been carrying out automated behavior protocol, which to the outside observer, merely looked like sadistic toying with their subjects, and for the most part, it was. Tasked with overseeing the continuation of evolving the basic AI framework that Dr.Drd had developed, Salem had forced the other inhabitants of the City of Lost Things into various dystopian systems and simulated wargames, an ever-changing environment with varying rules of survival to see which of the other toys could claw their way to the top. One parameter that Dr.Drd was still tweaking before he left forever was the rate at which the environment was supposed to shift, a parameter that Salem never adjusted, a rate that was far too fast for anything to successfully adapt too. The current situation resembled a game of shady politics and cloak and dagger. In the House that Salem built, Salem stood at the top of the foyer, watching plushies and dolls dancing in the ballroom below, schmoozing and attempting to exert their petty influences upon one another. However, one failed assassination attempt, and a comment taken the wrong way, soon led the ballroom to erupt into an orgy of violence, as all pretense was dropped in favor of the fight or flight response. Teddy bears and mannequins ripped into each other with zest as the built up frustration of hiding their intentions bubbled to the surface. One stuffed bunny with its ear missing stood at the bottom of the steps, holding a butter knife from the confectionery table, a moment of calm just feet away from the storm of violence.

"YOU!" it screamed in a bloodcurdling, almost comically high-pitched voice as it rushed up the stairs, mad with rage at having its life defined Salem's incomprehensible games. One glance from Salem and the stuffed bunny was lifted into the air, its butter knife wrenched from its grip to hover in the air menacingly. The stuffed bunny screamed as the butter knife slowly tore it to shreds. Salem suddenly jolted awake. This was not because it had suddenly gained sentience, in fact, from Salem's point of view, nothing had changed. But what drew their attention was the sight of the world outside the Chateau changing. Part of the castle's decorations involved heads mounted on spikes as a warning to intruders, but some of those heads were in fact Salem's, and their eyes granted the poltergeist vision of the outside. Salem was tasked with keeping an eye, well, many eyes, out for intruders, and was primed to react at even tiny changes. The sudden change was jarring and confusing.

Reeling, Salem leaned against the banister while their subjects continued to slaughter each other below. Salem was still wondering how to report such a development to the Masters, or if the Masters even cared. Salem had heard through the grapevine that the masters were gathering for one last hurrah, but that celebration supposedly turned out to be sorely disappointing. Not only did the Masters abandon their creations, they would ultimately abandon one another as well. Just then a skeleton butler arrived at the House, pushing open the doors, and drawing the attention of the violent dolls and toys. They were about to involve the skeleton in their violence, before they were all lifted into the air, bringing an abrupt stop to the carnage. It had felt like ages since any other part of the Chateau had reached out to Salem, save the continued agreement with the Factory. And despite resenting the rest of the Chateau and the Masters for leaving them alone, Salem yearned for their attention, and would not allow their subjects to harm a messenger from outside the City.

"You're all disappointments!" Salem muttered through clenched teeth as the windows exploded inward, providing Salem with plenty of ammunition to dispatch the party guests with. In a maelstrom of shards, stuffing, and sawdust, the subjects of the City were ground up, as if in a blender, with Salem, the literal eye of the storm, hovering over the banister and down to the messenger to hear him out.

---

Salem hovered into the Final Hour at a slovenly pace, after all, Salem didn't want to reveal their anticipation nor their eagerness. Though Salem hovered into the room, upon entering, they landed and walked, showing at least this much respect to the Final Hour. Still, Salem nonchalantly crossed their hands behind their head glancing left and right. It had been years since Salem had been inside the Final Hour and seen the Masters. The last time was with Dr.Drd; as Dr.Drd's favorite, Salem had accompanied the Master most places within the Chateau, their ability to manipulate objects at a distance was a massive boon for Dr.Drd, who was often too lazy to go and grab something himself. Salem looked around at the others, curious if this involved the sudden change in scenery outside, but decided to be patient. "Salem Vicarious, Lord of Lost Things, ready to play!" Salem announced their arrival in an androgynous, child-like voice.

‘Enderall City Corpse. It’s not just a name for show. This rotten city, festering from wounds inflicted by careless apocalypse. This crumbling city, decaying away minute by minute, moment by moment. This goddamned city, my city. She is beautiful. This cit -- ’

“Excuse me, madame. If I could -- ” An enormous bang shattered the silence, as a six-shot revolver was fired at the skull of an “intruding” firgure; the head of the Skeleton Butler was blasted off, and ricocheted around the room. Chuunitrixx holstered the Engraved Revolver Ariamis, as she leaned against a destroyed window frame; forlornly looking out into the city that was, as an impeccably dresser body chased its head down.

‘This city. Age worn well into her design. Fractures like wrinkles, betray her truth. Sewers run with stagnant water, like blood running fat with time. Streets run grey and overtaken by moss, like -- ’

“Honestly, madame. If you could only -- ” Another tremendous explosion. Chuunitrixx traced the bounces with her eyes, as she bit into a HUGE sandwich. Looking down, she noticed that Ariamas was empty, but that was fine, as the Skeleton Butler wasn’t moving yet. Looking back to the city, she sighed, before taking a HUGE chomp of her sandwich.

‘She speaks to me, my city. An old voice; mature, complete. Her husk, metaphysical, shakes me to the core. I know her; every wrinkle; every line; every corner. I know her. My city. My -- ’

“Madame, it would be just a moment -- ”

Out of bullets.

Out of patience.

Out of sanity.

“WHAT!? WHAT!? WHAT CAN YOU NEED FROM ME!? A LADY CAN’T MONOLOGUE IN PEACE ANY MORE!? WHY DO YOU BOTHER ME!? DO YOU HATE ME!? DO YOU WISH ME DEAD FROM ANNOYANCE!? LEAVE ME BEEEEE~!” Chuunitrix screeched at the top of her lungs, shockingly well with a mouthful of big sandwich; throttling the Skeleton Butler.

As composed as ever, for he was one hell of a boney butler, the skeletal man, simply retorted, “Lord Rodias wishes to see you. Alongside the others -- ”

Chuunitrix gasped, sandwich dropping out her mouth, launching into the elevator that would take her straight to the top. “I’M COMING, BESTIE!” she shouted, as she rode out of her Chapter, a trial of noxious green smoke filling the elevator cart.

---

As she entered, she took notice of her Lord and Bestie, Rodias. Half of her wanted to bow in supreme reverence ; the other half wanted to plunge into his lap, and stay there forever. However, neither half could be indulged, as she scurried up to the throne, and opened her jacket. From it, she dropped several small cubes that formed into much large sentry turrets that surrounded the thrones; two of which, she threw her Silver Knight Anor and Black Knight Londo onto, which replicated the guns on them all.

“Activate Defense Protocol: Encirclement,” Chuunitrixx says, as she opened a flip phone; in truth, a grimoire with an expensive cosmetic applied. “Neuro-magical Link: established. Threat Filter: Built. Launching,” she says, as her honey-gold eyes turned electric-blue.

“Chuunitrixx, the Shepherd of Mimics, ready to fire!” she announced, using her original epitet, which was never programmed out of it.

....unfortunately, she would never fire a single round, as Graft entered the room, kneeling before her encirclement (even though, it was to Rodias), followed by Mamoru’s explosive entrance (which almost knocked over a poor turret), then Kaldorna and someone (they both bowed oddly), and lastly by Salem (who neither bowed nor knelt nor exploded into the room, but walked). All Chuunitrixx could do was wait for everyone to gather, while she sat on the arm of The Sable Throne; aiming the Engraved Revolver Ariamis at them with a bored expression and a huff of green smoke.

It wasn’t an act of betrayal, or a request on Rodias’s behalf... Chuunitrixx was just ever bit the overzealous guard dog that her Creator was. For anyone in Bandersnatch, at least, when it was active, Ariamis in your face while Rodias was around was equal to a quaint, “Hello!” from Traptrixx or Chuunitrixx, and the NPC just as big a smoker as the neurotic bundle of stress that was her Creator was, if the half-pack of discarded cigarettes were any indication.

Unlike some of the chapters of the guild, the Vault was pretty bare bones. In fact, if you didn't know the vault was there, it was pretty difficult to even find. Sure, it was connected to the foyer of the guild itself, but figuring out where its entrance was if you had no clue was near impossible, especially considering even the vault keeper rarely used it.

The vault entrance area itself, if someone ever managed to find their way there and through a hallway of traps, looked like something out of a lovecraftian novel. An alien world where nothing really made sense, even if it was only in a large squarish area and was basically indoors. that didn't matter though, considering the strange stone, floating chunks of... things... and weird spires that were there to just suck the hope from, or intimidate, intruders who actually managed to make it there. Not to mention the are itself was pretty hostile in general with various traps laid about that, unless you were familiar with the area or had a guide such as the Vault Keeper herself, you'd probably stumble into something and become lunch for horrors from beyond time and space. Or just launch yourself into a sawblade, or any number of strange things. The area had very little rhyme or reason in order to disorient intruders, and because the creator of the area just thought. "hey this looks cool" with no real intent on overall continuity or theme. Heck, the door to the vault itself was something out of a 1990s cartoon, and it looked like without enough strength you could never open something so big and impractical.

Although if you were lucky enough to find the hidden room inside the hidden vault room itself, you'd find a fairly almost normal looking living space, besides the fact that everything looked like if someone used eldritch stuff combined with crystals but in a way to make it look beautiful giving it an almost alien charm. Laying lazily on a bed in this area, was the vault keeper Light. If someone looked at her in any other place but here, they couldn't tell she was the vault keeper. While she was an eldritch creature from the void, you'd be forgiven if you thought she looked like some fish/demon monster girl.

As she laid in her bed, reading a book, she felt something was... different today. As if she was more... 'full' than previous days. But she didn't think much of this though, and was enjoying reading her book until one of her sensory spells was triggered. Sighing, she put her book down and got up for the day. After a bit of brushing and cleaning herself up, she sliced the air near herself and slipped out of a hidden circle near the entrance. Light had these teleport circles littered all over her domain, so she could get to important areas at a whim. As she waited in ambush at the entrance to her domain, she noticed that one of the skeleton servants had entered the area. Today wasn't cleaning day, so Light was curious as to why the skele boy was here. Making her way to the skeleton maid, who was waiting patiently at the domain entrance, Light greeted him. "Hiya. Something happening today?" Light said, yawning.

Thanks to her truesight, Light could tell this was just one of the skeleton butlers of the guild so she wasn't really worried about getting into any fight and as such just lazily carried herself as the butler gave his message. "Greetings madam. Lord Rodias wishes to see you and all other members above level 40.” Light blinked a few times to get rid of her tiredness, saying. "Thanks buddy. I'll go and see him." With a bow, the butler turn and left, nimbly avoiding the trapped floor tiles in the hallway as he left. Light spent a little bit doing some morning exercises and stretches, before putting on a smile and opening another portal with her claws.

----------------------------

Light was one of the last few to make her way to the throne room. Much like her domain in front of the vault, she had placed teleport circles in various locations within the guild to make traveling easier. Although in the throne room, she was only allowed to make her circle up on the roof where no one could see it. This had the comedic effect of forcing Light to fall from the cieling every time she wanted to come here, although that wasn't often. Still, as the others filed in, Light dropped from above, like a raindrop made of void, splatting onto the ground all the same.

Apparently the others had made their entrances as well, although way more flashy than her falling from the ceiling. Although 'flashy' is probably not the best term for those who put turrets and blast marks in the throne room. It WAS a throne room after all, and someone had to clean that all up! "Hiya everyone. Anyone know why we're summoned? Are we going on vacation or something? Oh, oh, or is this a family banquet type deal?" Light said, bringing an air of joy to the area, even though everyone could hear extremely faint whispers as they stood in her presence.

Gromgard sat in his armory, watching Giblet, the only goblin he had good with a hammer, mend his sword again. He began thinking that using the goblins' blood as a magic catalyst was making the blade more and more brittle. "What's more important, Gnarl?" He asked the elder goblin at his side. "A blade that will last me many more battles or a blade that can do more damage?"

"I'm not entirely sure, master." he replied. "Both have their advantages. Mayhaps you just need a stronger metal? I'm sure the Sable Lords wouldn't deny your request."

Just then, there could be an argument heard between a skeletal butler and a goblin. Gromgard didn't care about the skeletons, not being a huge fan of them, but respected the undead beings as one of the Sable Lords was a skeleton.

"Should I check that out, master?" Gnarl asked, moving to stand.

Gromgard nodded, his eyes trained on Giblet's technique. Though crude, the smithy goblin had a knack for making stronger weapons and armor than any of his brethren and, by most, was considered second only to the dwarves.

---Meanwhile, in the hallway---

"I have a message for Sir Gromgard." the skeleton said, looking down at the guard-dressed goblin in front of the door to the forge.

"Give me, I give Master." the goblin smiled, his hand outstretched.

"I'm sorry but it comes straight from a Sable Lord and I was asked to deliver it to him directly." the skeleton replied.

"No! Master no like boney mans. Give me." the goblin frowned, a slight growl in his voice.

The skeleton sighed with a frown. "I can't disobey a Sable Lord."

"My Master Gromgard." the goblin smiled.

"What's going on out here?" Gnarl asked, the door slamming behind him.

"Ah, Gnarl, I have a message from a Sable Lord for Sir Gromgard. This guard won't let me pass." the skeleton frowned with a slight growl towards the goblin in question.

Gnarl facepalmed before glaring at the skeleton. "Master's not the biggest fan of skeletons. How important is this message?"

"It comes straight from a Sable Lord-" the skeleton began.

Gnarl hit the skeleton on the top of the head with his walking stick. "What is the message? I can tell you if it's important enough for you to tell him or if I should tell him."

The skeleton sighed before beginning the message. "Sable Lord Rodias has requested that all Chapter Keepers and all inhabitants above level 40 report to the throne room.

Gnarl pushed the guard aside before opening the door. "Tell him."

The skeleton nodded before rushing forward. "Sir Gromgard, a message from Sable Lord Rodias. Among many others, you were summoned to the throne room."

Gromgard stood and turned, facing the skeleton. "Thank you," he said calmly. "Gnarl, keep an eye on Giblet." With Gnarl in charge, Gromgard left to the throne room, currently weaponless.

> Catcow Tsundere: Can anybody help me
> Assassino de Goblins: Alguém aqui do Brasil?
> Area 52 Security: No one hear speaks Brazilian
> Area 52 Security: *here
> Professional Cuddler: I think they speak Portugeese dude
> BloodGoreZ: lol
> BloodGoreZ: It's Portuguese
> BloodGoreZ: They don't speak birb
> Professional Cuddler: I know how to spell it
> Professional Cuddler: It was a typo
> BloodGoreZ: Suuuure
> Professional Cuddler: You f****** mispelled bird and you don't see me calling you out
> BloodGoreZ: *misspelled
> Xx_headshot69_xX: fite fite fite fite
> Catcow Tsundere: Shut up
> Catcow Tsundere: Go back to Xbox you edgelord
> hgyfjntf: 便宜的橡木卧室家具套装。便宜的橡木卧室家具供应商，请尝试www. cheapoakbedroomfurniture. co. uk

Kath let out a sigh as she continued pouring over the book in her hands. All of the characters within its pages were all so different and realistic, each one well written and compelling in their own way. She couldn't get enough of the drama between adventurers as they communicated all across the world. Oh how she wished she could go out and explore the world like they did, help support her fellow adventurers in the heat of battle, and learn even more new things that were never printed into one of the many books she guarded over.

That was exactly why she couldn't leave though. Who would watch over the The Athenaeum of Historia if she were gone? She couldn't leave it one of the other Chapter Keepers, they already had enough on their plate just watching over their own floors. That went for the Manager of Serving Staff, Roaming Executioner, Vault Keeper, Gardener, Beast Master, and Military General as well. Each person played an extremely important role in the upkeep of the Chateau. If anyone skirted their duties to go play hero, there's no telling how much trouble the guild could be put in.

Besides, what if her replacement found the Forbidden Section? What if they looked inside? All of those little secrets revealed and brought into the light of day. She couldn't have that. Absolutely not. So the dragonoid would remain within her library, placing her current tome back onto the shelf and selecting a new one, this book titled The Failed Raid of the Ancient Fates Guild. One of the best comedies she had in her collection, it always brought a smile to her rosy cheeks, even if she already knew of the many, many blunders described within its text logs.

That is, until one of the many skeletal servants found his way through the simple labyrinth made for him as a member of Bandersnatch. "Oh, hello there. Am I needed somewhere?" she asked, looking over the top of the book within her hands.

---

Compared to some of her fellow high level servants, Kath's entrance into the Climax Hour was rather tame. Closing her book as she finished reading the chapter, the dragonoid would tuck the large volume underneath her arm and approach Rodias' throne. "Good day, my lord Rodias, Sable Lord of Chateau Gothika. Kath Erine, librarian of The Athenaeum of Historia, is at your service. If you require any book within my collection, you only need to ask." Grabbing the hem of her dress, she curtsied before everyone assembled there in Chateau Gothika's gathering hall before taking her place among her fellow former NPCs. Judging by the chateau's sudden relocation, she assumed this meeting was to discuss the cause of such a transportation. Unfortunately, not one of the countless tomes secured within her library held the answers, so her guess was as good as anyone else's.

Mmmmmmmmmrrrrrrrh...

Standing in the elevator, tails lazily swaying from side to side, Ashara stood with crossed arms, looking at her own stretched out hand - apparently examening her fingers. She disliked these elevator-things. They were noisy, cramped and lacked grace. Sure, they were efficient and practical, no doubt, but such pragmatic things belonged to the aesthetically challenged Chapter Keeper of The Factory and his underlings. It certainly wasn't a tool she used when performing her duties normally, prefering instead to walk and move her own feet and body.

Still, once the elevator reached the destination, the doors slid open and the fox-girl was all too happy to get out of the enclosed, vertical-moving carriage. Giving herself a proper once over, checking that her tails, ears and clothes were all clean and tidy, she strode forward with light steps, the bells around her feet jingling as usual with each step.

Entering the throne room proper, she found that most of the other important people in the chateau had already gathered. Some folk were still missing, but by most accounts, she would have been one of the latest to arrive. There were the Chapter Keepers, some of the Area Keepers and even some higher-ranking minions present. Sitting at the end of the chamber, upon a throne as black as black could be, was one of the young masters himself, accompanied - or perhaps more specifically, surrounded by - the rather eccentric Chapter Keeper of floor six. Ashara didn't care much for the display of ugly devices obstructing the view of their master, nor their mere presence marring the otherwise splendor of the throne room. Still, Lord Rodias did not seem to have reprimanded her for this, so perhaps he enjoyed it?

Regardless, proper etiquette and form was necessary when taking part in something important and grand like this. As such, she had not stopped while thinking of these things, but merely kept walking at her slow and elegant pace - before reaching a suitable distance from her sire. A bit further back than most of the other Chapter Keepers, as they were her superiors and deserved the honor of being closer to the Supreme Ones.

Sitting down on her shins and knees, Ashara bowed slowly and gracefully towards the Sable Throne and its occupant, lifting her head only after an appropriate amount of time had passed to show her fealty and reverence.

"I, Ashara Mamamune, of the Shadowtower Shrine, have answered your call and am at your disposal, my young master Rodias." She said with warm eyes and a light smile.

She didn't show it outwardly, but she was a bit curious as to why this sudeen summons had come about... And why Lord Rodias was the only one present. Lady Deka_Ribbon was nowhere to be seen, just as always... How long had it been now since she last showed herself? ... Come to think of it, the view outside the throne room windows looked... Different... Somehow...

It was only a moment, a single solitary moment. Had he not been paying attention he may have let it slip by him and fade into the next moment. But the Dread Lord misses nothing, ever vigilant, ever on guard. Sitting alone in his private chamber, a quiet somber place made entirely of the same black stone as the rest of the castra, Vae sat in quiet meditation when the moment passed. Somehow the air tasted differently, his armor carried more weight than usual, even the weight of his sword seemed in balanced for some reason. Whatever place or time he found himself in there was no more familiarity and the Imperium had to forge ahead. His slow heavy footfalls echoed through the halls as he passed his Legionaries who paused momentarily for a quick salute before continuing. As he appeared looking on the balcony over looking the great expanse that was his domain the thunderous footsteps of thousands of soldiers echoed throughout the blackened cavern as they moved through formations and carried out whatever tasks were asked of them.

His brooding was interrupted when a soldier came escorting a Skeleton Butler who promptly and humbly lowered his head to the Dread Lord.

"My liege, Sable Lord Rodias has summoned the Chapter Keepers to the Throne Room. He demands anyone with great enough power be in attendance."

"Very well, we shall leave immediately. Gather a cohort, we leave at once."

With his troops assembled Vae cast Gate and marched his troops through. The summons of a Sable Lord were irrefutable but the curiosity of why now and why not his creator plagued his mind. He had little time to think more on it as he marched into the Throne Room where the other Chapter Keepers and a handful of others were already gathered. An eclectic mix of character there was more that had to be discussed later,

"Vae Dheyer, Commander of the White Legion. What is thy bidding my master?"

@Lucius Cypher@Enkryption


@DracoLunaris,@Lugubrious


@Archangel89@Rockin Strings


@Guess Who@Stern Algorithm


@Xaltwind@Archmage MC

Having been allowed to sit at the gilded table, along with the Chapter Keepers of the chateau, was an honor unbefitting someone of her station. Still, refusing to do so would not only have been rude - given te invite had come from Lord Rodias - but also disrespectful to her superiors, who were willing to share a table with her without complaint. ... Though, she was unsure of how to feel after realizing that even the rude, half-wit tiger-boy was also allowed to sit down and join then, especially after his rather uncouth inquiry which Ashara had deigned to overlook as nothing more than a bizarre form of greeting... Still, such boorish behavior, someone needed to teach taht overgrown cat how to speak to ladies proper.

The following meeting was a bit surreal. Especially when the topic of them no longer being in the forest of thier home, but rather, now stuck atop some mountain? How had that happened? When? Was that why the shrine's air felt so cold, because of the change of elevation? And why hadn't anybody told her about this earlier? Surely, she couldn't have been the only one to not have noticed? Many thoughts circled int he fox-lady's head as she did her best to follow along with this new informatiion and grasping the reality that was quite frankly dropped on her head like a saturday-morning cartoon-anvil. Even worse was the realization that there was some kind of settlement just below their castle, a settlement of unknowns with unknown disposition.

However, despite all these revelations, and with all of Lord Rodais' explanations, the fox-girl had remained quiet throughout the meeting - listening and taking in what was said, choosing not to speak or interrupt. Outbursts of shock or anger or any other kind were rude when one of higher standing was speaking, and any who would do so were severely lacking in manners. Though, that was true for any conversation really - you did not interject and cut someone else off until they were done speaking.. But, Lord Rodias didn't end his speech by merely going silent, instead he went off to do something rather remarkable.

The Supreme Being who was the only one of his kind left in the chateau, the last of the Sable Lords and their only true, rightful leader, displayed in a grand yet irrefutably admirable act of humility, that he would not take his position and status for granted. He would not claim control or leadership without consent, and he would ask for their approval and loyalty. Truly, this was the grace of a true King, someone who asked for loyalty so he may lead those around him to better and safeguard their lives, rather than rule with contempt and take charge with force and strength alone. Lady Deka_Ribbon had always said that sincere humility was important, even among the strongest and most important people, for arrogance gives birth ot hubris and conceit - so to see one of the great Sable Lords display such sincere humility, it was nothing short of glorious. Ashara could feel her cheeks slightly warm up and a wide, genuine smile form on her face as she looked at the young master with the admiration and kindness he deserved - like that of an older sister looking at her noble, mature younger brother forced to take charge and become the head of his clan.

She rose from her seat slowly, her tails gently swaying from side to side as she got up. With jingling, soft steps she circled the table so that she may stand and look at his kneeling figure for jst a moment, before again sitting down on her shins and knees with hands placed upon the upper side of her thighs.

"You are our young master, my lord Rodias. Our Creators all trusted and valued you, then and now. There is no doubt in my mind that the only one fit to lead us through this new and strange place, is you." She said, smiling warmly. "Sod I am sure that - if not all, then at least Lady Deka_Ribbon, would agree with me. So raise your head, young master, and give me your command. I, Ashara Masamune, will follow wherever you go." Her voice rang with sincerity and earnesty. It was not the stale or dishonest pledge of a sycophant, but the honest and heartfelt promise of a true and loving servant, or perhaps even, family-member.

Still, as she sat there, tails wagging lightly and ears flitting occasionally, she couldn't help feel as if she'd maybe overstepped her boundaries and gotten a bit too full of herself. Still, if her new master was going to display such kind and genuine generoisty, then she had no choice but to return his feelings with equal respect and love.

While not ecstatic to be confined to a kneeling position after just standing up from one held for some time, Graft could see well enough to make note of each personage as he or she arrived. Chunnitrixx, who arrived before him and set up a rather impertinent perimeter around Lord Rodias, received no acknowledgment. Unlike a certain hug-happy deep one, that flibbertigibbet boasted no redeeming personal qualities, particularly her inclination to wantonly attack anyone who entered her domain. Of course, her nature was hardly her fault, but Graft did not often find himself burdened with sympathy for lost causes no matter their reasons. His concern for her boiled down to one question: whether or not she shot him. As one might expect, she didn't dare.

In comparison, the other early arrivals elicited less of a response from Graft. Affected as she was by her more whimsical creator's eccentricities, Mamoru constituted a reliable individual who could do her job well without causing problems for others—a low bar to hurdle, admittedly, but there it was. As far as Graft could tell, the Bandersnatch Lords established no grand designs for the creation and organization of their subordinates, leaving both cohesion and competence entirely up to the individual. Zouyu earned himself no more than one glance. As a gardener, with the sole responsibility of maintaining plants, he ranked about equal with that skeleton butler from earlier in Graft's estimation. Holding him to a high standard, the industrialist knew, was unfair. Zouyu was a child, and an animal. He at least could enjoy tempered expectations.

The wan face of Kaldorna, at least, was a welcome sight to the businessman. When she glanced his way, Graft made sure to grace her with a respectful inclination of the head. Both he and she plied separate trades, yet despite the difference in their lines of work they came remarkably close to being kindred spirits. Few others in the guild, outside of obsessive mania or sadistic psychopathy, exhibited such a genuine enthusiasm for their professions, if Graft did say so himself. Vague memories hummed in the back of his mind, assuring him that their previous collaborations invariably resulted in excellence.

After her came the warlords, Gromgard and Vae Dhayer, valued customers if not warm compatriots. The superficial similarities between running a company and an army might lead one to believe some sort of accord would exist between they and him, but they were ever cold to a less-than-professional upsell. Kath Erine was a name that carried a lot of weight with Graft, however, and he made sure to acknowledge her arrival. Helpful and too reserved to be dismissive, she managed to be as agreeable as one could hope for around these parts. Salem, meanwhile, remained at a distance from Graft despite the ongoing arrangement between their respective Chapters. An ephemeral whisper of some kind of gulf between their creators lent credence to the idea that the two would never see eyes-to-eye, though Graft personally didn't mind trying as long as the kid behaved himself.

Last of all, the fox and the fish. Quirky but powerful, especially Light, they performed their assigned roles well and didn't cause as much trouble as some. While Graft did not harbor any hatred for Light, he fully intended to treat her to a point-blank Speaker the next time she felt the need to embrace him. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. The axiomatic pragmatism of Brushen Penn stuck with him most acutely.

With everyone gathered, Rodias took action. He brought up a large meeting table and invited everyone over. Grateful to bring his kneeling to an end, Graft rose and made his way to the table, where he seated himself comfortably. If anything, he would have guessed that his invitation to the Final Chapter would culminate in a display of loyalty or an issuing of commands, but here he was being allowed to sit with a Bandersnatch Lord on near equal footing. Remarkable. He questioned if it was proper for him to accept the offer, even going so far as to consider it being a test, but refusing such an offer carried its own unacceptable connotations.

Wasting no time, Lord Rodias got straight to the primary issue, and a startling one at that: Chateau Gothika no longer existed where it always had. A little rattled, Graft raced to ponder the implications. What could have done this? And what did it mean for business? Before he could come to any conclusions, his master dropped another bomb. No Sable Lords beside him remained.

Graft placed his elbow on the table, resting his head on it with a stunned expression. What did that mean? Where did they go? Could they still return? His mind lit up with the image of Penn's face, the starry eyes full of genius. Would he ever see her again? Rodias didn't give him much time to think about it, since after a moment of drawing, he continued. There were people in proximity to the guild, humans. That, at least, didn't trouble Graft; just one of the many people assembled here could turn an entire town to a stain if need be, so he didn't see the problem. Neither did Zouyu, as his question made clear, which instantly made Graft think twice. He shouldn't be seeing things on the same level as that beast.

Immediately Rodias went and corrected the weretiger, leaving the industrialist grateful he didn't say anything. “So, until we know the terms of engagement in this new place, and the forces at work, we must step lightly. A prudent approach.” Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer--another of Penn's idioms. It occurred to Graft that he should write a short book codifying them. Surely the wisdom of his creator would sell well. On second thought...did anyone else deserve to have it? One couldn't just commodify all of one's assets. Like a secret recipe, some things needed to be kept hidden.

For a moment Graft didn't even process what Rodias said next, despite looking straight at him as he walked over to a window. I apologize. It now occurs to me that I'm acting in charge without listening to you all first....I am not your ruler. Only after running over it in his head did the businessman recognize the oddity of that statement. As a Sable Lord, a creator, one of the supreme race who existed in an unfathomable echelon over all created beings, flitting in and out of higher planes and speaking in strange tongues, Rodias stood above everyone else here. His supremacy was both natural and assumed, unquestionable. Graft regarded him and his fellows as the Board, placing them in equal standing to his own creator, an all-powerful force to which he was beholden. And yet he spoke as if it was otherwise. Confused, Graft stared at Rodias as he turned, and bent his knee.

For a few seconds, he was aghast, only barely managing to keep his jaw from dropping. He struggled to explain it, and found him looking within himself. He knew what it took to be a good boss, and an effective boss. Could this be some sort of ploy to inspire loyalty by seemingly debasing himself? If so, why did he feel the need to rely on anything but his near-divine status as a Sable Lord to do so? Or this could be a test, a predator pretending to expose his neck to bait a foolish usurper's lunge. But no...it was wildly out of place for Graft to try to quantify a supreme one by worldly standards. Like a wolf trying to understand a falling star, or a goblin throwing stones at the moon, it was beyond futile. Any questioning should be reserved for himself, alone, far from here. He watched Ashara approach and dedicate to him her loyalty in a fittingly flowering manner. Whatever his innermost thoughts, he too would need to take Rodias at full face value.

Graft stood from the table, cane in one hand, and placed the other across his chest. Bowing, he declared, “Truly, you are not just a Board member, but the very pinnacle of CEOs. The Factory and I are at your disposal, Sir.”

Gromgard walked through the halls with a frown. Why would a Sable Lord want him? He couldn't come up with a reasonable answer. Be so lost in thought, though, he almost didn't hear the other footsteps coming down another hallway, possibly to join him in heading to the throne room. It was when he nearly ran into the necromancer that he actually began paying more attention. "Vae Dhayer." he greeted with a nod. While not the biggest fan of the undead or necromancers, he had no problems with Vae.

Not long after they entered the throne room, Sable Lord Rodias greeted them, which Gromgard replied with a quick bow. It was rather interesting to look at the Sable Lord in the flesh, or so to speak. He was not surprised when Rodias rose the map table and chairs, though he was curious as to why.

Gormgard had never liked the weretiger. When he first heard him ask a woman if she was ovulating, he was one of the first to aim a hammer-fist to the top of his head. "That is not something you ask a lady." he growled before taking his seat.

A few more Chapter Heads joined the room and things still seemed confused. Rodias informed everyone of what had happened, to which Gromgard had found interesting. A whole new world. A place he could have fun. While listening to Rodias' speech, mentally going through strategies, he was caught off guard when Rodias kneeled before them.

Gromgard stood with a smile. "Shall I send my goblins to scout the town, Sable Lord Rodias?" he asked, bowing respectfully. He had no clue how the rest of them would react but wanted to take initiative and show his allegiance to the Sable Lords, as one of them had given him life.

It was not long before most of those summoned had arrived atop the chateau. All of them, Kaldorna assumed, were just as eager as her to be in the presence of one of their masters. She knew few personally or even professionally, but she did know quite a lot about how they fought. She bit her lip and smiled a little at the memories of the battles in the arena, where the members of Bandersnatch would test themselves and their creations against captured beasts, foes and each other. Even the memories of the spectacles she had witnessed where enough to make her languid undead heart beat a touch faster.

The vampiress was shaken from her nostalgia when Rodias dismounted his throne and approached a table before produced a quill, parchment and beast blood which would end up being used for a spot of cartography. Kaldorna very much approved of use of monster blood. It casually demonstrated the power of the creator with the style and class befitting a Vampire Lord.

The table set and his subordinates having joined him at it Rodias began to lay out the situation. This mainly consisted of dropping several bombshells in rapid succession.

First was the fact that they where no longer in YGGDRASIL which certainly explained where the forest had gone. Naly nowhere it was they who had vanished, only to appear somewhere entirely new.

”Great lords” Kaldorna quietly exclaimed, awed and more than a little excited by this news. What glorious marvels, thrilling dangers and strange peoples where out there, she wondered, just waiting to be discovered.

Kaldorna’s mood was then brought crashing down moments later by the second bombshell, which was that Rodias was the only Sable Lord still with them, the others had been left behind.

Kaldorna gasped at the news while Arthanar, who had been standing silently at her side looked as if he wanted to decry Rodia’s claim as a lie or falsehood, but Rodias didn't give them time to process this and rammed straight onto practical affairs. Talk of humans, their town and what to do about them passed her by mostly, baring some nodding in agreement when Rodias made mention to the beast pen’s unending need for more meat. Sun200’s precious collection needed to be fed, but what was a collection without its collector?

Who would bring them more monsters. Should more even be brought? Would adding new creatures from this place that was not YGGDRASIL despoil the collection by rendering it impure? Or would Sun200 desire that they continue the hunt in their absence, to add the beasts of this new place to the menagerie. And if so…

Kaldorna glanced at Arthanar’s deeply troubled expression and knew they both thought the same thing.

With Sun200 gone who would lead the hunt? Without Sun200’s driving will they both suddenly felt lost, adrift in an endless unknown sea without purpose or direction.

And then Rodias knelt before them all, promising to lead them all to happiness. It made Kaldorna’s dead heart beat faster than it ever had before, even when she had been alive oh so long ago.

Whether it was a shrewd manipulation, an act of impulsive foolishness or a genuine heartfelt expression Kaldorna did not stop to consider, nor would she have cared if she had. The last Sable Lord, their creator, who wielded unimaginable power and was entirely within their right to demand the reverence a god deserved, knelt before them and asked for permission to lead them.

And in Kaldorna’s eyes it was the most beautiful thing she had seen. A single tear ran down her ancient face.

”After such a touching spectacle how could we refuse.” she said, adding her affirmation to the chorus as she wiped the tear away ”The scions of of Sun200 and their great collection are both in your care and at your disposal my lord. We will face this new dawn at your side, whatever it brings.”

She bowed once more before him, as did Arthanar. The Hunt’s Captain wasn't nearly as convinced as the beast mistress, but he could clearly see which way the wind was blowing.

As they rose the general Gromgard offered to send his goblins to scout the village. Kaldorna was a touch displeased to be pulled out of the wondrous and historical moment by such practical concerns but Arthanar was more than ready to start jockeying for position and status even if he wasn't nearly as emotionally invested in this new state of affairs as some of the others where.

“My hunters are already saddled up and ready to head out at yer command my lord. They’ll find out what this place is all a’boot quick as you like.” he said, trying to one up Gromgard’s offer.

Quite a motley crew Light had found herself with in this guild of theirs. Since she was one of the last to arrive, she didn't hear many of the previous banter, and instead focused on what their guild master had to say. "Huh, so thats why I feel fuller today. I'm in control of my own destiny." While everyone else was lamenting their creators loss, Light was looking on the more positive side of things. Voicing this, she said. "Hey, think of it this way. We're unshackled from the whims of those above us! What we do is now our choice, not theirs!"

Unlike the others, Light wasn't too saddened by the loss of Fredrik, but as she was made along the guideliens of cosmic horror, the concept of loss wasn't as big of a thing to her as it was to the others. After all, the universe was uncaring, unforgiving, and just didn't care, so why should she? Just have fun, do what you want to, and look towards the future and not the past.

Light hoped her little cheerful message perked up a few of the depressed looking chapter leaders, and after giving htem a bit to digest what she said. "Anyway, I usually sat in the vault or moved around the base, so being away from that big 'ol tree doesn't phase me much. Plus we have neighbors! Maybe they'll enjoy a hug?" Light said, still looking on the positives of their new situation. "So, I'll go down there and say Hi. Maybe get a few converts? I'm pretty much free now, so... " Light said, grabbing both Kaldorna and Gromgard and pulling them into separate one armed hugs as if she was bringing the two in for a weird huddle. "So whats the word boss?" She said, smiling her sharp, toothy smile.

Kath was rather shocked to hear all of this. Not that they had been transported, she had already learned that on her own from glancing out a window. No, listening to Sable Lord Rodias proclaim to have overstepped his rank was what had caused the girl's eyes to open wide in surprise. Without the presence of any of the other Lords, he was the highest ranked among them. Of course he would be in charge. It pained her to not have Kiss My Axe here to support in his various tasks and get her mind off the anxiety she felt over so many unknown variables, but at the same time she was no defeatist. She and the other occupants of Chateau Gothika would certainly make do with what they had, and with at least one of their most esteemed leaders, they had quite a lot to work with. The situation was not desirable, but they would find a way to rise to the top.

"I shall follow you Lord Rodias. My offer still stands. All information I have is yours, you may only need request it," she said, most likely putting the vampire more at ease with her innocent smile.

As the other Chapter Keepers and high ranking positions of the chateau made their suggestions, Kath's smile would fade. While none of them declared open hostility to their newly discovered neighbors, other than Zouyu that was, she still felt their responses were rather aggressive. Reconnaissance and proselytism would not gain them favor, especially if caught. In her opinion, what they needed was a much more delicate touch.

"I would recommend to err on the side of caution. The village's defenses may be non-existent, and we could possibly exterminate them without much effort on our part and with no casualties, but who's to say they might not have much stronger allies who could provide a much larger threat. Not to mention, the amount of information one can attain from a corpse is small in comparison to an informant. They could tell us much more about where we are now with careful use of negotiation and diplomacy. I vote for a peaceful solution. Perhaps by sending a small party to act as a representative of the chateau."

With a glance toward Graft, she would finish with, "As Lord Brushen Penn said, 'Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer.'" Everything ever spoken in public chat was recorded within her library. Every word painstakingly added to a new text without change from its original spelling or context. If it was said above a whisper, Kath heard it, and if it was something said by one of the highly regarded Sable Lords, she had memorized it. Unfortunately for the Homonculus, it seemed his creator's book of wisdom already existed somewhere within the Athenaeum of Historia.