Member
Izurich
Level: 1
Day/Time: Day Two; Afternoon
Location: Dream Land airspace; aboard the Ragnarok -> Butter Building; Interior - 6th Floor
Tags: Frisk @Guardian Angel Haruki, Alicia @Zarkun, Cloud, Marx @Holy Soldier
Mentions: Guile, Rosalina, Wario, Waluigi, King Dedede @Holy Soldier
Word Count: 1281
Soul absorption? There was something the duo had never heard of before, much less dealt with, and it was an idea they could have went the rest of their collective lives without knowing about. That alone was already hitting a new level of sinister for them. Well… unless one was to account for Grunty’s last plan to siphon and (literally) bath in the life essences of others to restore herself, and even then it was depicted in such a characteristically silly manner that it was unlikely to inspire in anyone a genuine sense of fear, dread, or anything resembling it, even to those at risk. If Dedede’s apparent redesign and the craterous scar in the topography from earlier--presumably left by him--were any indication, this would be a different story. Even the stern major appeared visibly troubled by the prospect, considering the possibility that it may render their efforts vain before they could even begin to make them. While they couldn’t--and wouldn’t--let that stop them from trying, it could be said that they weren’t exactly looking forward to it; especially the first phase.
As concerning as they were, the child seemed to be asking all of the right questions, and thankfully, their second one had a more definitive and favorable answer. Their overseers made sure to provide them all with filtration masks before the drop so as not to subject their own unit to the… erm… “aftermath” of the bombing. Almost immediately a few specific places from their previous adventure came to mind where such a thing might have been useful, if only for a few moments at a time: various areas of Glitter Gulch Mine, Grunty Industries “Quality Control”, the Cheese Wedge in Cloud Cuckooland, but of course, having such provisions at their leisurely disposal would have been too easy and less interesting and fun to play. Though, if there was ever a time to have it, this would be one of them, and conveniently enough, they even came in Banjo’s muzzle shape, as clarified by the major. Banjo sifted through the crate and pulled out two respirators that looked to be specifically shaped to him and Kazooie to inspect.
“These guys have thought of everything,” uttered Banjo in admiration of their company’s level of preparedness. It was a meager example of it to be sure, but it was impressive to think that they could so easily accomodate on such short notice. Before being told to, he was already fastening the straps on his mask, adjusting them by the finer points of his fingernails. With hands and digits as large as his, it was a miracle he could play a stringed instrument at all, let alone proficiently. Kazooie decided to “help” by pulling the straps back with her beak and letting go of them to slap the back of Banjo’s head, to which he exclaimed “ow” in the form of distinct classic soundbite. Kazooie giggled in similar fashion until Banjo returned the favor by bringing her head over his shoulder and slingshotting her mask to her face. She let out a muffled squawk as her head recoiled slightly from the impact. The tighter conical shape of her mask didn’t leave quite as much clearance for her to open her beak to properly speak. Given the degree of apparent forethought, this was likely by design; a practical joke at her expense to put a dampener on her usual sarcastic retorts, snide remarks, and derogatory witticisms. She cawed lowly in disappointment having realized this right away.
Once they were all set, Guile sent the Ragnorok full speed toward the Butter Building, cautioning the squad to hang on to whatever they could. The next thing they knew, everyone besides Kirby was clinging to the closest secure object within reach as the ship was flying at a perfect vertical with the cargo bay doors open to drop “Dumbo” and the frail man onto the scene of the protracted self-coronation below. The ship then leveled back out and closed its doors as they began putting distance between themselves and the impending explosion. Banjo picked himself up off the floor and paced about the ship with a hand to his head. While him and Kazooie have flown before, never were any of their flights so turbulent, so he was reeling from slight dizziness. He took the brief moment of stillness they had to regain his bear-ings (Boo!) only for them to shaken once more by the detonation that easily had to be double-digit miles away… and counting. The ursine struggled to maintain his balance as the airship hurtled out of control until Kazooie emerged and forcefully flapped her wings to assist. Soon enough, they were finally well enough out of the way to re-stabilize and reposition itself for a return trip.
They had a full view of Butter Building from where they were, or… they would if not for the massive green cloud of feculent smog that covered it. The duo weren’t sure whether to be disgusted, awestruck, or some measure of both. The major, however, was disturbingly pleased with their good work. A look of worry marked Banjo’s features while Kazooie simply shook her head in disapproval, but at the very least it would save them a lot of work dealing with grunts when they got down there. Looking around, all that could be said for certain is that none of them envied anyone who was in the midst of the blast. With their orders given, they were off. The duo descended safely onto the balcony with a well-timed Feathery Flap and rushed inside alongside the others.
The interior was astonishingly, surprisingly, and for sure unexpectedly immaculate and well-decorated for a building presumably made of emulsive dairy-based condiment (if its namesake was anything to go by, that is). The only one there to greet them was a small round child (or something) similar to Kirby atop a beach ball that matched their size and shape who referred to themselves as “the great and powerful.”
“They call you that ironically, right?” Kazooie casually mocked.
Their “host” continued by explaining that they would have to fight through a series of mini-bosses before making it to Dedede and enthusiastically declared himself to be their first challenger, ending with a flash of his fangs as a warning to not disappoint him.
“Actually, we were just here to-” Banjo was cut off from finishing whatever inevitably transparent compulsive lie he was about to tell by the eruption of gunfire to set things in motion. While the soldier laid down fire, Banjo hurriedly posted up in front of the child to keep them covered while they “CHECK” Marx… whatever that means. Neither him nor Kazooie were very fast right now, so they’d rather not risk having to stress covering a gap on a moment’s notice; better they remain in the middle on the defensive until they get a better look at what they’re dealing with. While they’re not accustomed to operating with a team, past experience has taught them to be patient and wait out the exposure of a boss’s fight patterns before making a direct move.
The child’s order for non-lethality wouldn’t be a hard one for them to follow since they weren’t exactly the type to “killing” per se. Usually, minions would just respawn, bosses would simply stop fighting them (or self-destruct in Targitzan’s case), or miraculously survive longer than they logically or reasonably should to be a problem for them again (in the case of Gruntilda). That being said, protecting anyone was a tall order under any set of circumstances, and an entirely different task altogether. The duo would find out today if it was one they could manage.
