In a pink blur moving faster than the eye could see, Kirby cannoned into the great, withered tree, sending splinters of wood flying in every direction. So potent was the force that sent him flying that he remained stuck in the resulting crater for a full second before rolling out and plopping down among the roots on the ground below. After wiping away unbidden tears, he pushed himself to his feet and stared out with a glare of determination at the enemies arrayed before him.
Were Kirby capable of counting he would have taken a tally of eleven. He recognized only one of them, though at first he thought another familiar, but only a few seconds of battle had convinced him that none were or would ever be his friends. Their eyes gleamed with the red fire of a blazing sunset, full of malice, and their bodies appeared burnt, black as soot. These monsters did not distress him, for Kirby remembered facing far worse. But then what was this feeling inside him, sharp and horrible? Surely they weren't that strong...?
As one the enemy moved forward. A solitary puppet among them remained motionless, standing back as the horde rushed on. It raised its arm, and with empty scarlet eyes unleashed a brilliant beam of energy at the pink puffball before him. Kirby threw himself to the side, bouncing on his head in a cartwheel-like maneuver before landing on his feet, and the first of his foes were upon him. One swung two scythes with blistering speed, forcing Kirby to dip and dodge out of the way lest he be skewered. After a few seconds the aggressor executed a spinning slash, combining both weapons into one, and Kirby leaped to avoid the massive sweep only to take a body knee to the face.
Though the puff cried out in pain, he could not react before his big-eared attacker launched into a vertical spinning attack with his heavy metal wrench, pounding its end across Kirby's forehead and bunting him downward into the scythe-wielder's second sweep. It caught Kirby and flung him away, but before he met his end on the cleaver-blade of the behatted fighter meant to receive him, the puff pulled out a hammer and smashed it into his would-be slaughterer's face, crushing bone and sending its cap flying.
Kirby landed the next moment, glad he could get at least one hit in. However, the cleaver-wielder jumped back and slammed something into his leg, and without delay the egregious wound dealt to him healed in the blink of an eye. Out of time to gawk, Kirby threw away his disappointment and jumped up to evade the charge of an armored swordsman. Spinning midair, he delivered a trio of kicks to the warrior's helmet, only for the fighter to snatch him from the sky with its off-hand, punch him in the nose with the hand that held his gladius, and hurl him into the ground. A burst of gunfire from a foe in a wide-brimmed hat sent the poor puff rolling, right under the scaly foot of the largest among them.
Perhaps sensing his incoming demise, Kirby inhaled and then released a burst of air to send himself scooting out of the way of the great reptile's stomp. He rolled to his feet just as the dragon unleashed a torrent of fire, which Kirby proceeded to suck in. Enemies rushed at him from all sides, but he span on his tiptoe while spewing out the flame in whirling stream. While the melee puppets recoiled, one nimble foe rushed in from a little farther away, firing a volley of crossbow bolts. Kirby sucked them up too and returned them to sender, peppering the perpetrator with the miniature arrows. Though they must have hurt, the shooter gave no sign of pain, and merely stood as yet another, mechanical-looking enemy began to channel into it a stream of healing energy. Yet again, Kirby's hard work was being undone.
There was no time to moan about it. Again the enemy melee fighters assailed him, swinging cleaver, scythe, gladius, and wrench. Kirby compressed himself to duck under the onslaught, then bounced up as the weapons clashed inches above his head. The force of his leap sent the weapons flying, and Kirby took the chance to inhale the lion-tailed commando. A second later the puff sported a futuristic hat and wrench of his own, and though winded and wounded took the fight to the enemy. He traded blows with the other two fighters, positioning them between himself and the long-ranged fighters like the wooden gunner and the hooded marksman, and for a moment it seemed as though he held the upper hand.
Then the dragon-turtle hurtled into the mix. It bowled the armored warrior aside and rocketed a giant fist straight at Kirby's mouth. He dodged upward, springboarded off the monster's arm and swung his new wrench toward its head. However, the beast moved its other hand in the way, revealed a small, round creature clutched between its claws that itself held a shield. Kirby's bludgeon bounced right off the shield, which proceeded to open and pop out a giant drill bit that flung Kirby back.
It was then, with its target sailing through the empty air, the unseen twelfth enemy took its perfect shot. A thunderous noise echoed across the landscape as a sniper round struck Kirby dead-on, eliciting an agonized cry as he plummeted to the ground. In a snap, the puff's will to fight was extinguished. Seconds passed before he could begin to struggle to his feet with the last of his strength, his foes closing in. Bearing a devilish smile, the dancer who'd been supporting the others approached, a rod clutched in her hand. Feebly, Kirby swung his blade, only for another bullet -from the foe whose hat he'd knocked off- to strike him and send him reeling.
He scarcely felt the dancer's rod smack him and bowl him over, knocking him close to the edge of the cliff the withered tree stood upon. Everything hurt so terribly. Though the veteran of a thousand battlefields, he wanted desperately to give in. Yet, the faces of the friends swallowed by the light flashed in his mind. He was their hope—their only hope.
One last time, Kirby attempted to stand.
”Red culmination
Nullifying hope for good
Its last star blinks out.”
Appearing from nowhere, the thirteenth enemy slid its blade into Kirby's back, pushing it through until it protruded from his mouth. It held the blade aloft, allowing Kirby's feet to dangle limply, like a hunter displaying his trophy. Tears welled in Kirby's eyes as they began to glaze over, and with the last of his strength he reached into his little chest. From it he drew a heart, pure and bright. Its warm glow bade the enemies pause, staring without moving until, in a shower of stars, the heart burst.
A fusillade of smaller hearts flew out. One hurtled at every enemy, entering their bodies and blasting them back. Collapsing as though paralyzed, the puppets rolled back and forth in pain as they changed. Scorched skin, cloth, and metal regained their normal luster, and the baleful red left the puppets' eyes. They grew still, one by one, until there was only silence. It remained for a few moments, the morning sun shining upon lush grass and fallen equipment alike. Then, the fighters started to awaken as though from a terrible, terrible dream.
“Ow, meh!” Tora complained as he sat up. Beneath him, his wrench had been poking him in the back. Once again, he'd forgotten to put it away before falling asleep. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes with his wings and took a look around. Things took a moment to register. “Mehmeh!?” Confusion struck him in an instant—just where was he? It looked like a grassy hill, with one side giving away to a small, rocky cliff topped by a destroyed tree. More poignantly, it was no place he'd ever seen. Moreover, who were all these freaks? In every direction some stranger lay, seemingly asleep, and some seemed very strange indeed. Puzzled, Tora scratched his chin. “...Is this dream? Or did Tora get kidnapped? Would not have gone anywhere with big bunch of weirdos like this, meh.” Worry began to set in. Not only did he not recognize his surroundings, but he failed to recognize anyone around him. “...And w-where are friends? Poppi? Rex-Rex? Hello-o?”
As he searched, his desperation steadily mounting, he laid eyes on a small, round pink thing that appeared to have a sword through it. For a moment Tora did not quite put two and two together, but after he realized he leaped to his tiny feet. “Goodness! What in world happened to little friend!?” As fast as his legs could carry him, he rushed to Kirby's side. Completely ignorant of medicine, he dared not touch the unconscious puff, and so devoted his full energy to bouncing up and down, flapping his wings in a panic. “Help! Where Nia? Pink friend is hurt bad! Nia, please come help!”
Were Kirby capable of counting he would have taken a tally of eleven. He recognized only one of them, though at first he thought another familiar, but only a few seconds of battle had convinced him that none were or would ever be his friends. Their eyes gleamed with the red fire of a blazing sunset, full of malice, and their bodies appeared burnt, black as soot. These monsters did not distress him, for Kirby remembered facing far worse. But then what was this feeling inside him, sharp and horrible? Surely they weren't that strong...?
As one the enemy moved forward. A solitary puppet among them remained motionless, standing back as the horde rushed on. It raised its arm, and with empty scarlet eyes unleashed a brilliant beam of energy at the pink puffball before him. Kirby threw himself to the side, bouncing on his head in a cartwheel-like maneuver before landing on his feet, and the first of his foes were upon him. One swung two scythes with blistering speed, forcing Kirby to dip and dodge out of the way lest he be skewered. After a few seconds the aggressor executed a spinning slash, combining both weapons into one, and Kirby leaped to avoid the massive sweep only to take a body knee to the face.
Though the puff cried out in pain, he could not react before his big-eared attacker launched into a vertical spinning attack with his heavy metal wrench, pounding its end across Kirby's forehead and bunting him downward into the scythe-wielder's second sweep. It caught Kirby and flung him away, but before he met his end on the cleaver-blade of the behatted fighter meant to receive him, the puff pulled out a hammer and smashed it into his would-be slaughterer's face, crushing bone and sending its cap flying.
Kirby landed the next moment, glad he could get at least one hit in. However, the cleaver-wielder jumped back and slammed something into his leg, and without delay the egregious wound dealt to him healed in the blink of an eye. Out of time to gawk, Kirby threw away his disappointment and jumped up to evade the charge of an armored swordsman. Spinning midair, he delivered a trio of kicks to the warrior's helmet, only for the fighter to snatch him from the sky with its off-hand, punch him in the nose with the hand that held his gladius, and hurl him into the ground. A burst of gunfire from a foe in a wide-brimmed hat sent the poor puff rolling, right under the scaly foot of the largest among them.
Perhaps sensing his incoming demise, Kirby inhaled and then released a burst of air to send himself scooting out of the way of the great reptile's stomp. He rolled to his feet just as the dragon unleashed a torrent of fire, which Kirby proceeded to suck in. Enemies rushed at him from all sides, but he span on his tiptoe while spewing out the flame in whirling stream. While the melee puppets recoiled, one nimble foe rushed in from a little farther away, firing a volley of crossbow bolts. Kirby sucked them up too and returned them to sender, peppering the perpetrator with the miniature arrows. Though they must have hurt, the shooter gave no sign of pain, and merely stood as yet another, mechanical-looking enemy began to channel into it a stream of healing energy. Yet again, Kirby's hard work was being undone.
There was no time to moan about it. Again the enemy melee fighters assailed him, swinging cleaver, scythe, gladius, and wrench. Kirby compressed himself to duck under the onslaught, then bounced up as the weapons clashed inches above his head. The force of his leap sent the weapons flying, and Kirby took the chance to inhale the lion-tailed commando. A second later the puff sported a futuristic hat and wrench of his own, and though winded and wounded took the fight to the enemy. He traded blows with the other two fighters, positioning them between himself and the long-ranged fighters like the wooden gunner and the hooded marksman, and for a moment it seemed as though he held the upper hand.
Then the dragon-turtle hurtled into the mix. It bowled the armored warrior aside and rocketed a giant fist straight at Kirby's mouth. He dodged upward, springboarded off the monster's arm and swung his new wrench toward its head. However, the beast moved its other hand in the way, revealed a small, round creature clutched between its claws that itself held a shield. Kirby's bludgeon bounced right off the shield, which proceeded to open and pop out a giant drill bit that flung Kirby back.
It was then, with its target sailing through the empty air, the unseen twelfth enemy took its perfect shot. A thunderous noise echoed across the landscape as a sniper round struck Kirby dead-on, eliciting an agonized cry as he plummeted to the ground. In a snap, the puff's will to fight was extinguished. Seconds passed before he could begin to struggle to his feet with the last of his strength, his foes closing in. Bearing a devilish smile, the dancer who'd been supporting the others approached, a rod clutched in her hand. Feebly, Kirby swung his blade, only for another bullet -from the foe whose hat he'd knocked off- to strike him and send him reeling.
He scarcely felt the dancer's rod smack him and bowl him over, knocking him close to the edge of the cliff the withered tree stood upon. Everything hurt so terribly. Though the veteran of a thousand battlefields, he wanted desperately to give in. Yet, the faces of the friends swallowed by the light flashed in his mind. He was their hope—their only hope.
One last time, Kirby attempted to stand.
”Red culmination
Nullifying hope for good
Its last star blinks out.”
Appearing from nowhere, the thirteenth enemy slid its blade into Kirby's back, pushing it through until it protruded from his mouth. It held the blade aloft, allowing Kirby's feet to dangle limply, like a hunter displaying his trophy. Tears welled in Kirby's eyes as they began to glaze over, and with the last of his strength he reached into his little chest. From it he drew a heart, pure and bright. Its warm glow bade the enemies pause, staring without moving until, in a shower of stars, the heart burst.
A fusillade of smaller hearts flew out. One hurtled at every enemy, entering their bodies and blasting them back. Collapsing as though paralyzed, the puppets rolled back and forth in pain as they changed. Scorched skin, cloth, and metal regained their normal luster, and the baleful red left the puppets' eyes. They grew still, one by one, until there was only silence. It remained for a few moments, the morning sun shining upon lush grass and fallen equipment alike. Then, the fighters started to awaken as though from a terrible, terrible dream.
“Ow, meh!” Tora complained as he sat up. Beneath him, his wrench had been poking him in the back. Once again, he'd forgotten to put it away before falling asleep. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes with his wings and took a look around. Things took a moment to register. “Mehmeh!?” Confusion struck him in an instant—just where was he? It looked like a grassy hill, with one side giving away to a small, rocky cliff topped by a destroyed tree. More poignantly, it was no place he'd ever seen. Moreover, who were all these freaks? In every direction some stranger lay, seemingly asleep, and some seemed very strange indeed. Puzzled, Tora scratched his chin. “...Is this dream? Or did Tora get kidnapped? Would not have gone anywhere with big bunch of weirdos like this, meh.” Worry began to set in. Not only did he not recognize his surroundings, but he failed to recognize anyone around him. “...And w-where are friends? Poppi? Rex-Rex? Hello-o?”
As he searched, his desperation steadily mounting, he laid eyes on a small, round pink thing that appeared to have a sword through it. For a moment Tora did not quite put two and two together, but after he realized he leaped to his tiny feet. “Goodness! What in world happened to little friend!?” As fast as his legs could carry him, he rushed to Kirby's side. Completely ignorant of medicine, he dared not touch the unconscious puff, and so devoted his full energy to bouncing up and down, flapping his wings in a panic. “Help! Where Nia? Pink friend is hurt bad! Nia, please come help!”
1x Like
