Dawnrider

World of Light

Level: 6 (21 -> 24/60)
Location: Dead Zone - Final Atrium/Library Ruins -> ???
Word Count: 1936 (+3 EXP)

After the fragmented masses of the library ruin settled back to the Earth following Marie’s defeat, Banjo and Kazooie drifted down gently onto solid ground, having Sprang from their footing beforehand, carried on Kazooie’s wings to slow their descent. The final root, having been irrevocably bound to Marie (unbeknownst to her, and much to her misfortune), fell to ash with her destruction. The duo observed as much when looking about as Banjo’s feet gently met terra firma once more, but with further observation, they could see that they weren’t finished here. Banjo began walking towards Nadia and the Skull Heart she had sought, halting at her gestured command, then watched and waited patiently, cautiously, while she underwent her moment of repeat character development.

She ultimately refused the Heart, even now that it and all that it promised were finally within her reach, after fighting so hard for so long to find it. The Heart, of course, insisted she reconsider, whilst extending its tempting proposal to the rest of the women present, emphasizing the stipulation of gender exclusion. Even Dante, by pure technicality, wasn’t ruled out as a candidate, for to the Heart, it surely made little to no difference. If one had considered this standard of ‘good enough’ that it evidently worked by, it would doubtlessly come across as yet another bad sign.

“Hmm… any wish?” Even knowing better, Kazooie still acted to consider for a second the opportunity presented to her. The conceptual examples of “perennial excitement and adventure” and “returning what was lost” in particular struck a chord with her, as they were one and the same in her mind. Besides that, the specifics of her ponderings were a matter of curiosity that would remain unresolved.

“Don’t even think about it,” Banjo bluntly interjected almost admonishingly, shutting down any such prospects or considerations of corrupted wish fulfillment his partner might have had, be they serious or not, to which she silently conceded.

The bear and bird’s eyes affixed to the imposing, enigmatic new entrant just as he passed close by them, having somehow escaped their notice up to that point. He walked slowly amongst them with singular purpose, and apparent disregard for the presence of any others, moving for the Skull Heart even as Bowser began barking threats at it. All attention swiftly moved away from either of them when a seemingly unlikely taker took hold of the Skull Heart, and began pleading her case.

More than a respectable number of eyes went wide, hands went out, and voices were raised in urgency when Linkle voiced serious intentions of wishing upon the Heart, insisting that if it was for the greater good, any suffering incurred on her part would be worth it.

“W-wait! Miss… err…” Banjo began, stumbling over his thoughts and words as he tried to recall the girl’s name, having not actually spent much time around or interacted with in any capacity up until now.

“We should do something, right? Kazooie suggested, a rare sense of alarm faintly present in her voice.

Shaking his head, Banjo said no more and started beelining for the Hylian and the artifact she held. Recognizing resistance, she bounded away from the group to higher ground, but the duo persisted still, switching from Banjo’s feet to Kazooie’s. They could and would still try to reach her, even if no one else could, by propelling themselves her way with a running Shock Spring Jump. Banjo turned and flailed mid-flight to reach for the Heart, but came nowhere close to touching it by the time Linkle made her wish. They were repelled by the wave of invisible energy, knocking them back down to ground level to tumble away. They stood up from where they stopped and could do nothing but watch helplessly at what transpired next.

The Skull Heart was quick as one might expect to betray its new beneficiary (if she could truly be called that), honing in on the one personal flaw it could find in her otherwise altruistic request. Admirably, Linkle tried as she could to not succumb to the corruptive power she had already submitted herself to, but resist as she might, the wish could not be undone; the Skull Heart would have its way. Just as her transformation hit its peak, nearing completion, time and all were suddenly brought to a standstill… all except for the one who made it so. The same robed figure from before warped in for seemingly no other reason than to remind the party of their mission, providing them with a suspicious sum of incentive to prioritize it, before absconding with their teammate through the dark rift that brought him there.

The temporal anomaly ceased, and time resumed for the party, though none knew in the moment what to do with it besides take some to process what had just transpired. It was disturbing and tragic just how easily even a noble soul such as her could, not so much be convinced, but convince herself that any amount of good could come of it. Perhaps she related it in her heart and mind to the more divine wish granting artifact of her world she knew tale of; that none of them would understand, or maybe she simply thought her good will would be enough to override the whims of the infernal Heart. Sadly, this single misstep on the hero’s path, which she believed herself destined for, sent her falling headlong into a dark ravine of ill fate.

Therein lay the true tragedy; that the Skull Heart wasn’t entirely wrong. Generally, all wishes were born of some inherent, often selfish desire or self-serving cause; even wishes for others seldom excluded the wisher. Moreover, one could not altogether dictate or circumvent cause and effect with a forced miracle, even if worded carefully. No grand benefit was or could ever be given for free, and the bill always came due. The problem was that the Skull Heart looked specifically for the crack in her morale to exploit, no matter how infinitesimal, so it may inflict its curse, making no honest account for the intent. In the end, that was all that mattered to it; all it needed; all it cared about, and it got what it wanted.

As for the Nobody, was he lying in wait the whole time waiting for this exact thing to happen, and if so, what nefarious ends did he aim to meet? That much, they were due to find out. The question was, when? Would they defeat the Qliphoth first, or find him along the way? Only time would tell.

“A cryin’ shame, isn’t it?” Mr. Bones chimed in, with a certain somberness in his voice. “That there are always people--or things--in this world lookin’ to take advantage of the good nature of others. If only she knew...” His guitar materialized in his hands once more, and he began improvising lines of a slow, reverberant, melancholic riff between sentences. “There’s no such thing as a pure wish; just good intentions… and you know what they say about those… and if there’s no rest for the wicked, then what’s that say about the righteous? Still, if she wanted to do some good--to be a hero--why not let her? To help others who can’t help themselves isn’t the worst thing a person could want. So what if she wanted her own story to be told? Ain’t those the stories most worth tellin’? I know it doesn’t always work out that way sometimes, but every now and then, one’s good deeds deserve to be rewarded, not punished. Besides, to be-”

Bones’ piece--music and speech--came to a halt as he was drowned out by a resounding, furious roar from the Koopa King unlike any they had heard from him thus far, belted out ahead of him decking the newcomer across the length of what was left of the library. Those among them who knew how things worked here knew they were now in for a fight… which was brought to a swift, unceremonious end when everyone present with a firearm lit up the returning attacker simultaneously. From there, Bowser himself elected to clear him with a Friend Heart, expecting somehow that the man would be more reasonable going forward, and gave him an abridged rundown on the overall situation at hand.

“Well, that was easy.”

“Well, that was easy.”

Mr. Bones and Kazooie declared in unison, then exchanged looks to one another. “Now, where was I?” Bones cleared his throat (out of theatricality rather than need), found his last place on the fretboard, and flipped a switch on his demeanor to pick right back up where he left off.

“To be a hero, you could say, is already its own punishment; in no need of more. Heroes don’t live happily ever after, they make sacrifices so that the rest of us can. That was her choice to make… and she made it hoping no one else would have to. If you can’t call that heroic, heh... then I don’t know what you can call it.”

“Don’t you have an empty grave somewhere to occupy?” Kazooie rebuked, as her way of expressing that she grew tired of the skeleton’s threnodic waxing philosophical.

“Don’t mind her, Mr. Bones.” Banjo interjected, foregoing his usual scolding of Kazooie in lieu of a consoling pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure we’re all just a little upset about what happened.”

“Can’t say I blame you. Poor girl deserved better,” Bones sympathized, keeping the musical accompaniment going by second motion as he continued. “I once dealt with a man who believed good could only manifest where evil thrived, and sought to make that happen. Didn’t care what it cost, or who it would affect, or how; just the result. But your friend… she didn’t want anyone to suffer for it. She just wanted to do what she thought was right. But then again, I’m sure he thought the same.” He paused thoughtfully at the realization, trying not to linger too hard on any of the implications. “Right about now, I almost wish he was right. Almost. But I think we’ve all had about enough of ‘wishes’ for one day.”

Banjo nodded along with Bones’ monologue as it reached its conclusion, the melody fading out in kind. “We should probably get out of here,” Banjo echoed the going recommendation, acknowledging no further the outgoing subject matter for lack of anything more of value to contribute to the discussion around it at present.

Bones concurred with a nod. “Any idea where we’re goin’?”

“Nope, but safe guess is it’s better than here.”

“I hate to play devil’s advocate by pointing out the obvious here, but isn’t there still a main boss who’s butt we have to whoop? I’m no more eager than anyone else to stick around here to race a time limit myself, but…”

“Well, if this place is going up, then it’ll just take care of itself.”

“You sure about that? Because this doesn’t strike me as something skippable, and it might even be harder to get to when we inevitably come back for it later. Just a feeling.”

*sigh* “You’re probably right, but I’d rather do it when we’re better prepared and have more time, like we’re used to. It’s not like it’d be our first time backtracking anyway.”

“Fair enough.”

With that, Mr. Bones dismissed his guitar and followed everyone’s lead in-line with Banjo and Kazooie behind everyone else. Unless anyone of sound mind within the group had any reasonable objections or better ideas (whatever that might be), that would be through the teleporter leading out.

World of Light

Level: 5 (6 -> 9 (-3) -> 6/50)
Location: Sandswept Sky - Lakeside; outbound
Word Count: 2186 (+3 EXP)

As it turned out, Fox and company had a good deal more support than he anticipated, for every outspoken defector risked throwing their lot in with Yellow Team rather than taking the Administrator’s obvious bait of cyclical immortality. The Heavy, despite being the last in line behind them, was the first to fall in, with gusto. Thankfully, they weren’t trying too hard for stealth, for among other things, the boisterous giant’s enthusiastic beckoning to their foes made that an impossibility. With a satisfied smirk at the fortuitous turnout, Fox nodded Heavy over, setting him up to bat. Heavy and his comrades let fly in trade with the opposition while the two he knew fanned out on Fox’s order. The Russian then looked to him for a plan he didn’t exactly have, but he had enough of an idea to provide him with a simple directive.

“Just keep it up! Make for the camel and cover their exit.” Not long after the skirmish commenced, the dust storm he requested began rolling in, with Naboris in tow. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said almost inaudibly--mostly to himself--before splitting off to make his move. With Heavy’s suppressive fire, Braum’s mobile cover, the combined abilities of everyone else, and of course, Midna backing them with a Divine Beast, he trusted his team to have things figured out in his momentary absence.

---

“Not dead yet,” declared the freshly resurrected Soldier with a sigh as he hurriedly exited the BLU spawn point. He sprinted out into the dark tan, low-category ‘fog of war’ of buffeting sands rendered suddenly into being by means that eluded him, forcing him to rely mostly on his memory for field layout and ally/enemy placement. Not that this proved much of an issue for him, for that was the benefit of reviving mid-battle; it gave you the chance to learn, adjust your approach, and try again. By now he had done enough of it to know plenty of ways to flank the either enemy teams, which he aimed to do starting with Yellow, being the critical priority amongst them. As he would soon find out, however, one of theirs had a similar idea.

As he rounded the second or third corner on his path, the Soldier was blindsided by the Fox from earlier, booting down his rifle before he could raise it in response and staggering him with four more whirling kicks to his chest, sides and head to follow. He lifted his gun to shield himself from the running straight kick that came next, redirecting it past him, then drove the butt of the rifle into Fox’s cheek. Soldier held firm, driving Fox back as he attempted to face the bore to his head while Fox struggled in kind to prevent the same. The deadlock ended after a few seconds when Fox gained a hand in leverage to throw the gun out of their hands and away from both of them, whereupon he drew his sidearm, pressed its lens to Soldier’s abdomen, and drilled into him with rapid fire.

“AAargh!” he cried sharply as focused red light burned through him, frustratedly swatting aside the sidearm on reflex. He retaliated with a solid headbutt, which may or may not have hurt worse with a snout than a humanoid nose, anchoring the vulpine to him by his wrist to make sure he connected. He used the momentary opening it left him to sling Fox around by the arm with one hand while driving his head into the wall with the other. Fox responded with a reverse knee stomp to drop Soldier down a height onto another point, loosening his hold enough to take a propelling step off the wall and come down onto the back of his head with an overhead tornado kick.

The grappling knee strikes from Fox to follow, aimed for Soldier’s head, met only defending palms, having recovered in time to raise his guard against the aggressive vulpine. He caught him by his leg on the third strike and lifted up as he rose from his forced kneel with intent to put Fox on his back only for him to counter by throwing himself into backflip to break the grapple and end up back on his feet, catching Soldier by the chin with the toe of his boot for his trouble. As he moved back in on the stumbling Soldier, Fox caught a glancing backfist to his jaw, but ducked with the hit, spun low, and kept moving, throwing a flying knee into his chest that pinned him back against the wall. When he extended to hit him with a side kick to the abdomen and face each, Soldier once again guarded and caught the second, but this time went forward instead of up with a right cross to take Fox down.

The differences in their styles and approach to hand-to-hand combat became evident after only a few moments of trading blows. The Soldier’s way was that of an older man--well-worn warrior--long-lived in a profession that often got younger men killed. Simpler, efficient, and brutal when necessary. No tricks; just results. Fox, conversely, fought like a younger man with bold, energetic tenacity, but with a sense of focus, awareness, and composure afforded by experience. This much they both seemed to have in common to differing degrees, and they were both starting to realize that--that neither of them were dealing with just some common merc/vigilante upstart.

Both combatants went to the ground, Fox catching the Soldier on his free foot, sprang him and himself upward, and sent him away with a parting kick to the sternum. Soldier rolled with the hit, literally, as he recovered his weapon and had it immediately trained on Fox the second he rose to a crouch and began opening fire. Realizing this, Fox doubled back to retrieve his blaster, suffering piercing shots through the back of his calf, thigh, ribcage and clavicle that caused him to stumble into a dive for his weapon. While inverted, he squeezed off a single impact shot that grazed the Soldier’s temple, missing him by the thick of his brow and knocking his mask loose, as he scrambled for the nearest cover.

Morrison fell back as well, deploying a Biotic Field at his feet to self-restore with the moment granted to him to do so, re-donning his mask in that time. He would not, however, allow his foe the same luxury of respite or recovery; to nurse his wounds or otherwise. With his Tactical Visor engaged, he let fly a triad of Helix Rockets at the cover he knew Fox took, obliterating it almost entirely and forcing him out into the open.

Fox instinctively threw up his Reflector to return every round of aim-assisted heavy pulse fire that came his way, prodding Soldier into a momentary ceasefire to prevent further self-harm. Fox then took advantage of the gap in his opponent’s offense to rapidly close the distance between them, split-second blitzing past the strafing gunman in a phantasmal blur to deliver a sailing roundhouse kick to his chest that sent him flying back against the door of the nearby building. He chased him with another dash, not intent on allowing him room to breathe, as he connected a straight flying kick to his torso that buckled the door inward behind him before the explosive burst that followed blew it open completely.

Both combatants fell prone into the room as the door violently came loose from its hinges, a light shower of rubble breaking off from where they used to be. Fox was first to rise of the two, after drawing his sidearm from prone and training it on the opening to ensure that the coast was clear, in case any more hostiles managed to find and decide to follow them in. He hovered his free hand over his chest to pull a Heart, tossed it onto the semi-conscious Soldier, and waited for it to take full effect while he clutched his bullet-wounded shoulder. Groaning, the Soldier soon came to, all of his color and part of his vitality returned to him, but short on clue or memory to make sense of his surroundings or situation.

“What happened? Where the hell am I?” he asked, mostly to himself, as he sat up and began surveying the area, trying his best to piece together some kind of valid assessment.

“I don’t know,” said the only other person in the room as he moved to pick up Soldier’s gun for him, “but we can’t stay.” Fox handed him his weapon back by the safe end, trusting (or moreso hoping) that he wouldn’t try to turn it on him this time. “Our ride’s about to leave without us. If we hurry we can still catch them.”

“And you are...?” the Soldier scoffed, rising to his feet with a hand on one of his sides.

“Here to help,” Fox replied in short.

“Hmph. You’ve got a funny way of doing it,” he remarked on his cumulative observations about what had transpired, concluding that he had just gotten out of a fight with someone and having no one else to look at. “Forgive me for not taking you on your word.”

“I don’t have time to explain,” he affirmed calmly. “All I can say is you’re better off getting out of here with us than staying to fight whoever’s left.” Without delving into specifics, that much went largely without saying. “We’ve done all we can here for now.”

“Well, I hope you have something more for me to go on if you plan on putting a gun back in my hand.” Fox took his meaning in that he may otherwise regret doing so. Lacking for a better answer, he simply shook his head and gave him his best point of rationale he could pull on the spot.

“Just that I’ve been where you are, and we’re both still alive.” It made sense enough as basic reasoning went. Either of them could have just as easily been dead by now. Though, it wasn't difficult to tell that the Soldier wasn’t entirely convinced. He did notice however that a line of blood was dripping out of Fox’s sleeve and down his forearm. As if conceding the matter, he reclaimed his weapon from Fox and drew a small yellow cylinder from his vest.

“Here,” he said, planting it at both of their feet to activate the radial healing field that seemed to almost miraculously sew up their injuries. “Heal up, then get out of here,” he commanded softly (as much as his gruff bearing allowed for anyway) as he approached the building’s exit.

Fox nodded, and began, “We make for the Southern border. Evac’s just outside of the compound. You can’t miss it-”

“I’m not coming.” Fox went silent with the abrupt declaration, needing not ask ‘why’, for a vague explanation would be handed out freely. “I appreciate the ‘help’, and the offer,” the latter he sounded a touch more sincere about, “but I’ve got my own way of doing things… and I’ve got to do them alone.” These two sentiments in particular resonated with Fox, as he has said and done both of them before. Even without knowing, he somehow understood. He thus made no effort to stop him or change his mind as he took his parting steps out, and as soon as the Biotic Field generator burned out, Fox would be right behind in doing the same.

---

In a full sprint, Fox made it back to Naboris in the midst of its heated getaway. He leapt onto the ramp leading in as the Beast began to rise, managing to board just as it was about to climb out of his reach. This made him the last passenger to come aboard on their continued journey as they made their way onward. Once they were clear on their escape, he made his way to Naboris’ helm, stone-facedly marching past the others as he conducted his own head count in passing, neglecting in his wake to answer Tora in so doing. Midna accounted, without being asked, for the missing Primrose, and had already set course for the pyramid where she departed to.

Despite the clear influx of new recruits on-board that marked a clear net gain for the party, Fox couldn’t help feeling like he came away partly empty-handed on his end. He went out of his way to free the Spirit of one who struck him as being among the more important figures among the REDs and BLUs, enacting his plan to set the example he told Midna he would, and now he wouldn’t know if he made the wise choice or if it would in any way pay off. Perhaps the best he could hope for in that case was to have planted a seed of rebellion against the presumably omnipotent; that the chain of Spiritual emancipation and resurrection would not end there. Regardless, it would do him no good to dwell on it with no way of knowing for sure. He would just have to believe.

World of Light

Level: 6 (22 -> 25 (-4) -> 21/60)
Location: Dead Zone - Final Atrium
Word Count: 1600 (+3 EXP)

Blue Eggs: 30/100
Red Feathers: 36 -> 30/50

“*sigh* Do we really have to do this?” Banjo bemoaned, standing before their opponent in recognition of who they were; a loosely familiar character from before, and a kindred spirit to the duo (in the more traditional sense).

“Believe me, I don’t like it either,” Mr. Bones sympathized. “The last time this happened, I had a little more say in it--took it up with the man responsible--but it just ain’t up to me this time. For what it’s worth, I’d have done things differently.”

“Right,” Kazooie interjected almost dismissively. “So… no hard feelings then?”

“None whatsoever,” he replied sincerely with a headshake, a long blink, and a shrug, “and sorry in advance for whatever happens next.” By then, Banjo had already strolled up within arms reach of Bones and abruptly pulled his off while he wasn’t looking, prompting a wide-eyed take from him as he looked at both now empty sockets.

“Me too,” he replied with a soft smile before swatting Bones’ head off with a single heavy paw swing. The duo watched his skull tumble to a stop in what appeared to be an anticlimactic conclusion to their encounter.

“Eh… I’m not,” Kazooie commented bluntly. “Well, that was easy. What now?” They’d not, however, have a moment to idly ponder their next move, and not simply because there was enough going on around them already. Their attention moved to the crumpled skeletal mass at Banjo’s feet as they witnessed the remains reanimate and rise to reassembly before them, little worse for wear.

“Woah!” Bones exclaimed mock shaking off dizziness while he manually adjusted his reattached head. “It’s a good thing I couldn’t feel that.” Banjo looked at the loose arm still in his other hand then back to Bones as Kazooie opened her mouth to say something. Before she could get a word out, Bones continued. “Oh… yeah. Funny thing, right? I’m one’a the only guys here who can do that. Sadly, you’ll hurt to see how.” With that, Bones’ loose arm magnetized back into place, pulled to buy a tether of blue electricity, and touched a jolting index finger arcing with plasmatic energy to Banjo’s chest to begin zapping him as a demonstration.

Banjo howled a painful vibrato as he was shocked to his bones, literally, with Bones’ unique power of ‘Skeletism’ that had been, up to now, untested on an organic, mammalian being. Seeing as it managed to freeze up the burly ursine, it seemed to work no worse than usual. Kazooie took over to knock Bones loose with a heavy, rearing peck (more akin to a sharp headbutt) to detach the skeleton’s head once more, ending his sustained attack while he put himself back together. Bones, being just that and a soul, was fragile and easy enough to pick and break apart with a single direct hit from either of them. The problem was with keeping him down without knowing how, as he could simply keep reforming as long as he held a (positive) charge. Even anchoring one of his loose arms down underfoot didn’t stop him from grabbing an errant spare limb from any one of the other scattered skeletons around.

That reminded the duo that there was still a bigger fight going on around them. They figured their efforts would be better spent everywhere else before coming back to Bones, who would be no issue by then, if they didn’t learn how he ticked first. Until then, he posed as little more than a distraction for them, so with that in mind they took off into the air to get a lay of the field before moving in on it, putting them out of Bones’ way.

“See, now that just ain’t good sport. It’s already two against one, and they can fly?” he said to no one in particular, raising a brow he no longer had before shaking his head disapprovingly. “Let’s see if we can do somethin’ about that.” A guitar then materialized in his hands with a sweep of generative pink sparks, and he began improvising an electrical, leading melody. In a stretch of possibility, the red energy that brought the bear and bird airborne faded to blue, bringing them to a gradual, but hastening descent. Kazooie did a panic take upon noticing this, and burned two more Red Feathers to counteract the effect only to watch them futily wilt to blue still, dropping them even faster in doing so. Banjo did his best bracing them for impact by tucking into their crash landing, rolling and skidding to a stop that left him face down with his chin to the floor.

“Oh… because he plays the blues. I get it,” Kazooie uttered unamusedly, cluing into the metacommentary behind Bones’ ability and nature. Bones strolled up in front of the downed pair, guitar still in hand, and clarified…

“To be honest wit’cha, I wasn’t sure that’d work, but I guess that’s what they call ’facin’ the music’, huh?” Bones jested rhetorically with a light chuckle, prompting an eyeroll from Kazooie and a groaning sigh from Banjo. “Look, I know we’re all just bein’ talked into this, but don’tcha think we ought to see our parts through? I think it’s only fair we finish what we started.” Evidently, the duo disagreed, opting instead to roll sideways over the edge, dropping themselves from the platform out of sight.

“Ain’t that a shame,” Bones sighed, lowering and shaking his head in disappointment. “If only things had been different when we met. Maybe we could’a been friends in another life. Probably the last,” he pondered, failing to notice the encroaching heat death of Bowser’s empowered fireball behind him until its brightening glow could no longer be ignored. He turned around to face it, realizing too late what the bear and bird were really avoiding. “Oh…” he said wide-eyed before the inferno bowled over and scattered him.

Banjo managed to catch a hold of the landmass of cyan coils in their evasive tumble. Shortly to follow was Mr. Bones’ unconscious head soaring in a steep arc and falling past them. Banjo freed a hand to catch what was left of the amiable revenant, leaving himself to hang precariously by one in doing so. The duo exchanged a look of understanding before Kazooie took over where Banjo had his hands full, tapping her partner’s chest to bring out a Friend Heart and slapping it onto Bones’ head to wash away one half of the influence over him. When he woke, the red glints in the blacks of his blue eyes would be gone.

“Thanks for the pick me up,” said Bones with a soft whistle, “I wasn’t all myself back there. Still not, technically, but, uh… well, y’know…” he continued referring to his current physical state of being.

“I’m guessing that’s not just a skeleton joke...” Kazooie said in doubt about him regaining autonomy, realizing that he acted for someone other than Galeem.

“I’m afraid not,” Bones replied.

“Figures you might say that,” Banjo remarked, mild disappointment clear in his tone.

“Y’see, the little girl up there’s still callin’ the shots, and I can’t explain it, but me and her are… sort of on similar wavelengths, if y’know what I mean,” he explained, hinting that him and Marie both utilized some manner of necromantic energy that might rationalize a connection between them, as well as his continued survival in proximity to her.

“Not really,” Banjo retorted.

“Well… anyway, if y’all wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be free of this as soon as y’all could make that happen. I’ve seen this before, and I don’t wish it on anybody.”

“Try not to interrupt us while we’re at it then,” Kazooie demanded.

“I’ll try not to, but I can’t promise anything.” Even now, his Skeletism charged body attempted to reform itself with the first stray arm to fall overboard near them, which Kazooie promptly yanked off with her beak and threw away into the abyss. “Worst comes to worst, just keep me out of reach. Shouldn’t be hard for ya.”

“Will do.” With that, Banjo hauled all two and a quarter of them up to safety, but no sooner than they reached solid ground were they lifted right back off of it. Whether by telekinesis, an inversion of gravity, or some combination of both, Sans brought everyone within range up to his level, putting most of them at a momentary disadvantage. Fortunatly, Banjo and Kazooie (mostly her) were just as capable airborne as they were anywhere else. During their moment of weightlessness, Banjo punted away Bones’ head and rolled back into Kazooie’s windup for a Beak Bomb before shooting off. A direct impact appeared to be certain with Sans’ patient refusal to move, but when they reached him, they hit nothing.

With utmost casualty, Sans blinked himself (or them) out of the way at the last decisecond before contact. Kazooie braked and spun them in a u-turn, but failed to return or re-engage before Sans forcibly dropped everyone back down to the floor. In Banjo and Kazooie’s case, that was on the next level below, for they were suspended over nothing else by the time Sans reintroduced them to gravity. The pair were smote onto a floating islet beneath the main platform some ways, still alive, but generally worse off for the moment. Little did they know this would incidentally spare them the harmful chaos of the goings on above. They’d not sit out more than their predicament forced them to, however, as the pair picked themselves up and began their ascent back to the battlefield proper.

World of Light

Level: 6 (56 -> 57/60)
Location: Limsa Lominscuttle Town - Sky’s Hatchery
Word Count: 491 (+1 EXP)

Hat Kid’s assessment turned out to be half correct; there were indeed things that could fly (or at least looked like they could) at the top. What she expected to find, however, was more of an airdock akin to the naval yard of the Bulwark Hall rather than a place of business sporting air vehicles of the more… alive variety. Being a storefront instead of a base, presumably accessible by anyone regardless of ability, made her roundabout method to get there moot. Furthermore, she could forget about casing the joint as she had originally intended in accordance with her prior expectations, as the establishment’s owner immediately noticed her upon arrival and welcomed her to browse their selection, which was probably the better alternative to what she had hoped for. Either way, it would ultimately fulfill the same purpose: to get her over the water.

Among the options presented, only half of them looked like they could reasonably support her for any respectable amount of time, and one of which she would rather not bother with at all. While she was partial to birds, despite her mixed history with them (and perhaps because of it), she wasn’t liking the way the crow demon looked, or looked at her, locking a knowing gaze on the child. The crows she dealt with in the past were shady enough on their own, but were otherwise harmless in spite of that. THIS crow was harmful by its downright nightmarish appearance alone. Was it even acceptable to have it on display for the eyes of the general public? Probably, considering children and families weren’t likely in the market for aerial mounts or a living, breathing, actual scarecrow anyway, so there was unlikely to be any business lost there.

The child shrank back nervously from the Crow with a look of equal parts disgust and worry that resettled as she continued looking over the rest of the available stock. Half of them didn’t appear capable of supporting her for any respectable distance or duration, and of the two she was partial to--the giant parrot and the Carbuncle--she wasn’t entirely sure that the latter was actually airworthy. Worse still, would either of them survive, or even manage the trip she had in mind? Perhaps the shop’s curator had something ‘off-shelf’ that would suit her better; something that wasn’t on open display. With that in mind Hat Kid inquired as much in her ‘silent’ explanation, indicating both of her planned headings--Inkwell Isle and the Bottomless Sea--by gesture...

...Then, she remembered she had a balance of exactly zero of any acceptable currency on her person. That was what she got for dealing fairly with career criminals. Her lack of funds was a matter she saw fit to leave out until the matter of compensation came up. At which point, of course, she would have to figure something out, but she wanted to see if Sky had anything worth her while first.

World of Light

Level: 5 (4 -> 6/50)
Location: Sandswept Sky - Lakeside
Word Count: 836 (+2 EXP)

For a first, their attempt at swaying diplomacy appeared to be going surprisingly smoothly. Where Fox had expected some level of apprehension or resistance to their proposal, they were instead met with a gradually building line-up of eager new recruits, most of which were moved by seamingly little more than the desire and opportunity to make a greater contribution, their motives as of yet unspoken (save for Heavy). Just as a handful of willing crusaders-to-be were stepping forward to answer the call to action, the voice of displeased authority came over the loudspeaker to sour the whole negotiation. Fox’s almost visible satisfaction was quickly replaced with an alert response as his attention shot to the nearest source of the voice barking commands urgently calling for the trio’s termination. He might have guessed that someone was behind the looping turf war between those unwittingly gathered in the conspicuously symmetrical battleground they’d been calling home for an untold time, and silently cursed for being right.

Just like that, hopeful converts backed off against their better interest, motivated backwards by flash-bred skepticism. The Soldier did the honors (unintentionally) bringing to light a programmed facsimile of contrarian rationale; something about a ‘briefcase’ apparently containing sensitive intelligence that the crusader trio obviously knew nothing of, let alone would they care to steal it. Had that been the case, Fox couldn’t imagine why they would need to ‘distract’ or even bother engaging with them at all if they already weren’t paying attention to this thing they suddenly so valued enough to fight over but not enough to keep safely on their person. No, this wasn’t a healthy skepticism at work. This was the talk and action of one reaching for an excuse to repel outside influence in accordance with the brainwashing of their faceless masters; one they knew of, one they had yet to discover.

Yet, in spite of this attempt to engender an irreconcilable divide between all parties present, reasonable doubt and insubordination persisted among a few of the mercenaries. However, all it took was one voice in her favor calling ‘treachery’ to instigate conflict among them. Alas, where her attempts at militant sophistry failed to dissuade her subjects from defecting, she was able to leverage afforded privileges of conditional immortality over them to fan the flames of continued in-fighting, now with a more adversarial touch. The terms were set, the teams assembling, and the countdown initiated.

“Move!” Fox commanded Poppi and the Queen, as in ‘away’ to find the farthest cover they could reach before the countdown was up. It was clear that reason would serve them no further here, so it was time for them to fall back and improvise. Fox rapidly devised a course of action for the three of them and issued their parts in it as soon as they were out of sight. “Sectonia, alert the others, tell Midna we need cover. Get a sandstorm going. Poppi, find that case--OR her--then me,” he ordered, referring to the aforementioned briefcase and the Administrator, which they would likely find in the same place. “Wait for our cover to move,” he further clarified, expecting her to take his meaning through context.

He reasoned internally that Poppi could better move through the battlefield at speed unseen with her comparably lower profile, while Sectonia wouldn’t have to stress the same on a round trip to and from Naboris, and being the more eloquent of the two, she could better relay the call for backup. Furthermore, his sudden interest in the briefcase had more to do with the Administrator herself and her apparent knowledge of Spirits, which by itself made her a considerable enough threat to not want to send Poppi after her alone; just to find her first. Should she happen to return with a case of precious intel however, there was a chance they might actually be able to learn something useful from it.

As for Fox, he decided that the best and only thing they could do now was play their game, but he had no intention of playing it their, or rather her way, or by her rules. He would not honor the conventions of a dishonorable engagement. He preferred this time to disrupt the established order of controlled chaos, and she just gave him the perfect excuse to try. His idea was to start with the one player she couldn’t have managed this without, her compulsory lapdog, the Soldier, and go from there.

Fox and his team were neither RED nor BLU; they were one. Though, for the purpose of the scenario at play, they were still Yellow Team and would remain to be. Though outnumbered on both sides, with no respawns, they were short no advantages of their own with every plan to make use of them. Their hard-earned success here would mark YLW’s first victory in the last battle that would be fought on these grounds. Heeding his own directive to Poppi, he would await the obscuration of the battlefield by Midna through Naboris to mobilize.

World of Light

Level: 5 (2 -> 4/50)
Location: Sandswept Sky - Lakeside
Word Count: 1072 (+2 EXP)

In no time at all, the volunteer scouting trio arrived at the compound just moments after leaving for it. Fox had little trouble keeping pace with the two fliers of their company, being naturally fleet-footed as he was, and perfectly capable of facilitating his own landing from the low skydive off of Naboris with a guided, curved thrust to drift him down and forward. With a couple of leading steps, he bounded over the fence after his compatriots in a full twist layout and continued making his way in unimpeded.

It was oddly quiet and empty within, absent of any dead, dying, or battle to see to either. Of course, they knew the conflict had ceased prior to their departure, but even still there were no signs of an expected aftermath to be found. After a moment or two, they discovered what was happening instead, which only raised more questions, such as ‘why’. Fox was puzzled by their findings; that the two opposing sides seemed to be gathered together, casually socializing following their no doubt deadly territorial standoff (and perhaps preceding another). Seeing as they weren’t actively posing a threat, Poppi took the initiative to approach and make first contact, effectively compromising their anonymity, and since there was now no point in trying to maintain it, Fox left cover to follow suit.

He kept sharp eyes out for anyone among the mercenary assemblage that looked ready to use their weapons, still ready to act as they made their approach and introductions from Poppi. Her attempt at a warm welcome and succinct explanation of their purpose there was met largely with rhetorical questionnaire or overall dismissal, and while Fox didn’t feel the need to directly answer the Soldier’s question, his answer was ‘yes’. Him and his lot (whoever they are at any given time) did indeed have a habit of showing up unannounced to intervene in ongoing conflicts; that was exactly the type of thing he would do. Though, he wouldn’t have called what they had stepped in an “active warzone” as it was, even if it could be at a moment’s notice--a fact he kept well in mind as the conversation went on. A few of them begged to disagree, believing somehow that they had better things to do where they were, and attempted to turn the trio away before they could get a proper word in.

“You don’t seem to understand,” Fox piped up, stepping forward to draw the room’s attention. “Believe it or not, like it or not, our business IS your business,” he spoke generally to the entire crowd, in response to the Infiltrator’s comments. He looked about all of them as he continued to make his address, starting with the Soldier. “You’re right about one thing: you are at war… you just don’t know it yet.” This statement would likely provoke a curious look or two from the group, so he began to elaborate.

“See that?” he asked, pointing to the titanic camel they rode in on, which would prove hard NOT to see. “With or without us, that would have found its way here eventually,” he conjectured in half-truth, more aiming to make an example of it in his explanation. “Consider yourselves lucky saner minds prevailed to tame it. It could have just as easily stomped through here raining lightning and reducing this place to dust.” He spoke calmly as he made his point, but still with the intent to make an impression. “In case any of you feel like you can keep ignoring the world and all its problems, just know they won’t ignore you forever.”

Turning back to face them, he continued. “I hate to break it to you, but the real war is out there. Some of us are already fighting it, while you’ve been missing it, and right now, you’re exactly where our--YOUR--enemies want you to be. Acting in circles, distracted, fighting your friends...” Fox prodded at them by reasoning believably sinister motives for subterfuge on behalf of a nondescript ‘enemy’, but also genuinely curious as to who that could be, suspecting there might actually be one. Being no stranger to fighting for sport himself, as arranged initially by a cosmic entity, he knew that these things didn’t happen on their own. Someone had to be behind them.

To that end, he was all but certain the combatants here were unaware that they had been hamster wheeling their way through fight after fight with nothing to show for it. All signs pointed to that being the working scenario, and their given time spent there clarified as much. The question was, could they be convinced to break the monotonous cycle of repeat conflict, or were they bound and compelled by ‘influence’ to sustain it until broken? In part, Fox was trying to test them to get a read for it.

“I doubt you’re all just here for a cheap thrill with no reward. I would know,” he related broadly while wondering over and casually snatching a filled shot glass from the bar nearby. “So, if you think you’ve got a case to make for why staying here to keep doing what you’re doing is somehow better, feel free to sell us on it,” he challenged, expecting any takers to understand (or at least believe) they would have a hard sell to make. “Or you can come with us, and do some actual good,” he proposed, this time more in earnest, assuming any of them cared to. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even be rewarded,” he added in his pitch, appealing to the overall mercenarial sense he got from the group.

“If you really need a better reason, I’m sure something can be worked out,” he said, looking to Sectonia to better know how to handle matters of potential compensation, should it come up further. “Either way, there are kids in that pyramid who need our help,” he gestured to the monument in question across the lake. “So decide fast, and decide now. Stay here, keep shooting at each other to pass the time while you wait for an honest threat to kick down your door, or get on board, join the real fight, and actually fight for something.” At the end of his piece, he shot back the mouthful of whiskey in his hand and gently knocked the thick base of the now empty glass on the countertop as he set it down. “Your call.”

World of Light

Level: 6 (8 -> 20 -> 22/60)
Location: Dead Zone - Hell-bent City -> Library - Crypt
Word Count: 1027 (+2 EXP)

Power: Split-up
Blue Eggs: 39 -> 30/100
Red Feathers: 44 -> 40 - > 36/50

After successfully making an otherwise troublesome advance through the library, thanks in large part to those sporting incendiary means, Red Team and company proceeded downward into and through the underground to arrive at the crypt hidden beneath it. The way was lit with veins of glowing necrotic energy intermingling with underworldly overgrowth from the Qliphoth, the traces leading them to the source where they found a thousandfold of the same... right where they needed to be. Before them, at the center of this lower sanctum, stretch the third and final root, and between them and it, the ‘Skullgirl’.

The revenant maid, as if waiting for them, greeted them coldly in her opening address. Banjo and Kazooie could see Nadia’s hesitation, and putting together that this was somehow related to her business with the ‘Skull Heart’, they kept to themselves long enough to allow her a moment to tend to it herself. After a second of silence, its bearer confirmed as much aloud with a direct, perhaps rhetorical inquiry. As convenient as it was to have both of their objectives one place, everyone could sense already that it wouldn’t be that easy, or simple. To begin, Bowser’s atypically desperate plea for an alternative fell on deaf ears as Marie made clear her refusal to part with the Skull Heart, wishing to see her vengeful ambition through to the last days of her undeath.

“You know… we kinda just… walked in here. Maybe you could just leave out the way we came in?” Banjo awkwardly suggested at the girl’s mention of being “trapped” there by the root, pointing back with a thumb over his shoulder. He might have known better than to expect that simply having a door left open would be enough. No doubt there was something more to it than that, but the good news was that they had in common that goal of destroying the Qliphoth root. “We’re actually here to get rid of that thing too,” he clarified, pointing to the very root the Skullgirl’s reanimated soldiers were going to work on, “so we could probably help with that if you’d like.”

Had she been willing to accept either of Banjo’s suggestions, it would take her no time at all, and everyone might have come away with what they wanted (except Nadia, maybe). The bad news was that which Nero had to share: that they were on a deadline. He gave his shortest version of the story that amounted to, of all things, a delivery boy personally carrying an IWMD to the region’s center, and that they had less than a day left to complete their mission before the Dead Zone was obliterated.

“And you just… let him take it?” Kazooie interjected with a subdued tone of irritation (possibly in unintended sync with Daxter). “I’m guessing he also somehow beat us there while we weren’t looking?” she added, assuming the porter in question shared their intended destination, questioning how he could make it there so soon in light of the trouble they’d gone through thus far to accomplish the same, and resisting the urge to say “off-screen” instead.

This obviously only served to complicate matters further, as it prompted the Skullgirl to act more dramatically to the revelation. Suddenly believing her own power to be inadequate, she decided to invoke the law of the new world by challenging the party for their own, broadcasting her new intent to take it from them and amass it within herself. Thus, any hope there was of a peaceful resolution was irrevocably lost.

The earth began to rumble and rupture underfoot and all around them, threatening to crush or claim any who failed to escape it. The duo swiftly made sure that wouldn’t include them as Kazooie brought them skyward with an assisting jump from Banjo, burning as many feathers as it took to reach the next closest tier of solid ground (or whatever passed for it). “All this, but she can’t cut through a bloody stump?” Kazooie remarked, regarding the root (and meaning ‘bloody’ in both senses), as they carefully made their ascent through the catacombs coming down around them. After they touched down onto the high-risen battleground, and following one more round of preceding banter between Nadia and Marie, the battle proper was underway.

“Are we still leaving this one for her?” Kazooie asked Banjo, unsure at this point which convention or courtesy they were honoring in the first place (that of fighting games or respect for personal affairs), but knowing it now involved all of them regardless.

“Looks like we’ll have to,” he replied upon seeing the myriad skeletal horde emerge at the command of their revenant master.

“Let’s make it a fair fight then.” To that, Banjo answered with a crack of his neck and a concurring nod, pounding knuckle to palm in a show of eager enthusiasm. It wasn’t so much that he was excited about it (as he typically wasn’t) so much that he was ready to do what he had to, scant as their options were now. Plus, they were due to be officially recognized fighters themselves now (which made for the exception), so it was best that he learned to make the most of it.

The duo Trotted Bowser’s shell and lept overhead, with Banjo entering a spin, slinging his backpack by the straps while Kazooie spun her wings rapidly. At the height of his momentous buildup, and nearing the end of his fall, he slung Kazooie free to circle them like a top, wing cutting down any of the smaller skeletons she caught up in her attack. Then Banjo, with his pack now empty, landed atop a stalhorse, bodying its rider off in doing so, and pulled the sack down over its head, holding onto the straps to use as reigns as it entered a panicked frenzy. He attempted to run it forward and through the mass of undead before them while Kazooie continued concurrently sawing away others in serpentine. As her momentum died down, Banjo dismounted the horse to let it continue bowling over the lesser skeletons as he made to catch his partner, regrouping for the next round.

World of Light

feat.


@DracoLunaris

Level: 4 (33 -> 39 -> 42/40) LEVEL UP! ---> 5 (2/50)/2 (6 -> 9/20)
Location: Sandswept Sky; Aboard Vah Naboris; Inbound for Lakeside
Word Count: 4131 (+3 EXP)

Power: Impact Shot

The collective efforts of the ground force paid off in short order before more lightning could be called down on them, which Fox was dangerously close to suffering on foot. He was saved having to make a snap decision to aim-dodge the bombardment with a closely timed dash or try to take it with his shield--the latter of which he was almost certain would fail if hazarded--and clearing the Beast’s underside as its mass descended was easy enough with or without Morgana’s help. He would still accept a ride regardless, jumping aboard mid-sprint for the round trip back to Naboris. Boarding the creature was apparently as simple as taking the conveniently placed ramp at its side, whereupon it began rising once more to its feet. It was as if the Beast practically beckoned them aboard.

Within the Beast, a battle waged in the central chamber, with a great warrior woman and her dark, ghastly, phantasmal counterpart gaining the upper hand on those that had entered before. Fox was late to answer her on her call-out thanks to the Thunderblight blitzing its way to the ground floor to meet them all with a rapid assault, and took a hit he wasn’t quite prepared for. To say the least it was astonishing to witness up close the speed at which the phantom covered so much ground to reach them, though they now knew to expect it. After another round or two, Fox noticed that the creature had a tell for when it rushed; it tended to gently sway into its takeoff. Using this new insight, and his own matching movement technique, he evasively led the monstrosity even further away from its ally while he and his own picked it apart. Fox eventually managed to place a solid string of shots directly into its singular eye that, despite their low power, stunned the Thunderblight long enough to bring it down.

From there the Phantom Thieves made good on the opening afforded to them, capitalizing in spectacular fashion as they ripped through the Thunderblight in streaks of sharp shadow hitting it from every angle. Mona, who led the Thieves’ finishing assault, emerged from the battle-haze after dealing the final blow and smugly sending off their foe with a celebratory puff. The spewing dark ichor from the phantom’s mortal wounds dissipated into glittering, ashen dust, followed closely by the creature itself, and with that, the fight was over.

Fox realized late that the amazon-esque woman had fallen as well, learning as much upon noticing her Spirit floating next to that of her previous killer turned comrade. Accompanied with statements of the obvious, he began having thoughts about their overall situation, and with it, he had a hard time feeling satisfied enough with their victory to call it one. The more evident half of his thoughts were echoed aloud with the question of their ability to commandeer the Divine Beast. Only then did it seem to occur to them that perhaps this was a loss they couldn’t necessarily afford, until Primrose stepped in to remind them otherwise. She was the first to suggest one of them taking in Urbosa’s Spirit, taking the two in hand and presenting them to whoever found themselves willing. Rather than entertain the suggestion, more feeling than thinking himself an ill-suited candidate for it, he started quietly taking his first steps away from the scene to further ruminate on the subject.

Sure, maybe they could just annex the necessary knowledge and/or abilities of whoever by way of Spirit absorption as needed, but even if such a loss could be considered affordable, was it really necessary? Being a soldier of fortune (admittedly a thin, supplementary cover for good causes in his case), who had struck down entire armies and even a whole species in the past with not an iota of guilt, hesitation or regret, it was conventionally unbecoming of him to suddenly dwell on the value of individual life. After being ‘awake’ in this new world for less than a day and receiving a crash course on its rules as those before understood them, he was already seeing a problem with how it worked. In a world where everyone--even old friends--could be considered an enemy, and every enemy--even mortal--a potential ally, it seemed a mistake not to more carefully consider that in future engagements as far as who to slay and who to spare. Fox personally understood, if nothing else, the strength of unique individuals as part of a unit over that of one alone, and so silently pledged to act accordingly by setting the example when the next opportunity presented itself. If he could help it, they’d not lose anyone else that they didn’t have to.

As per the proposed method, Midna didn’t hesitate to take in the Spirit of her fallen foe, casually alluding to some intuited connection to Ganondorf to rationalize her (second) death. Fox paused in his steps at the mention of the name, one that had become loosely familiar to him in years past, and not in the best of ways. Of those present, that made him and her the only two present who knew of him at all. He was suddenly curious as to her relationship to him, guessing that they hailed from the same world, yet somehow, based on her cautiously optimistic conjecture about his ‘awakening’, he knew almost better than her that they were all but certain to run into him, reminding him once more of who and what was inevitably in store for them. If there was ever any one enemy (from another world) he had ever encountered that made him think and act more carefully in dealing with…

Fox made his way over to the Beast’s core near where Midna resided, listening to the brief she gave of her newfound bond with and seamless command of it. Observing the terminal itself, it was evident that this was a relatively primitive, but no less sophisticated technology at work, one which he couldn’t begin to comprehend. If it hailed from Hyrule, given what little he understood about anything from there, it was the likely product of primordial techno-magicka, not that he could conclude that on his own. More interesting to him was the revelation that it was intended as a weaponized deterrent against Ganon, which prompted him to take the impish princess up on her offer to “chat.”

“So what else do you know now?” Fox opened with the vague line of inquiry, expecting her to take his meaning.

Midna looked over at him from where she lay, the tearful overlaid eye of the sheikah staying in place as her own found him for a moment, before it turned back to the ceiling ”I’ve been trying to figure that out,” she admitted after a moment. The princess let silence hang for a moment after, likely mulling over what to say before trying her best to explain.

”I don't exactly know things she knew. I don't have memories of being her, or at least I can’t find any. So I didn’t remember how to control Vah Naboris, I just looked at it and suddenly it just made sense, almost instinctively,” she pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows in thought for a moment before she added ”Which is maybe more concerning than if I had memories that I knew weren't my own.”

Fox nodded softly at the latter end of her statement, bearing a thoughtful look about him. While contemplating the potential consequences of thoughtlessly taking someone out for their Spirit that he skipped over the possible side effects Spirit absorption on those who undergo it. Still, in consideration of the former, he couldn’t fault her for killing Urbosa, for she had what she believed to be good reason to.

“Not to alarm you,” he began, focusing away from the terminal to face her more directly, “but if you know what to call it--and what it’s for--you may be getting some feedback,” he theorized. Turning his back to the core to prop himself against it, he looked off once more into the mostly vacant space of Naboris’ central chamber and continued. “But I’m sure you knew some of it already. To me... it doesn’t make much sense.” He paused for a second for her attention before asking, at the risk of punching a hole in her previous assumption about the Gerudo Champion, “What would a servant of Ganon be doing with a weapon made to kill him?”

Midna paused, raised a finger and looked up and to the right as she was dug through her own memories before saying ”No... No, she called it that when she showed up. Before you came.That’s where I know it from,” not sounding like she was entirely confident with what she was saying.

She shuffled a little on her spot, clearly uncomfortable, before taking a breath and becoming calm again, regaining her relaxed position and smiling at him ”I appreciate the concern foxy, but I've got this under control.”

”As for why she was with it, presumably for the same reason the dark machine specter was. To stop people using it. Zant, a treacherous usurper who served Gannon, did the same with the twilight mirror to stop me from using it to return home and reclaim my throne. He couldn’t destroy it completely, the fake king that he was, so he broke it into 4 pieces. Then he hid 3 of them from me and created monsters to guard them,” Midna said, casual confidence fully returned. ”Didn’t work of course. Your’s truly found them all, used them to get home and then killed that treacherous little bokoblin. With a little help from my Link.”

Midna’s logic checked out, with an anecdote to corroborate it. She would sooner know than him in any case. “Maybe you’re right,” he stolidly, halfheartedly concurred with her theory about Urbosa safeguarding the Beast against any who would use it, “and I’m sure you can handle… this,” he added, gesturing generally to Naboris. “I’m not worried about that,” he calmly, but earnestly reassured as he paced over to the edge of the platform near where Midna lay. "There is something bothering me about all this though," he admitted while seating himself at the ledge, leaning on palm and raised knee, leaving a comfortable gap between them. “Besides what we know of, I’m not sure I can tell who our real enemies are.”

”Good, because I can” Midna agreed with him before rolling to the side to look at him when he sat next to her, elbow leaning on her wolfos and fist holding up her cheek as she continued to speak, her one exposed eye roaming over him as if she where only now taking the time to properly examine him. The motion put her a touch closer to him, but the gap reminded the comfortable distance between meer associates nonetheless.

”I suppose i’ve gotten lucky in a way with this being familiar-ish stuff so far,” she waved a hand around the beast before continuing ”also having done this before in a way, though that was time rather than reality getting all mashed up and twisted,”

”With so much unfamiliar stuff in this world, it’s probably best to assume hostility from anyone and everyone till proven otherwise. Red eyes or clear,” Midna said after a few moments of contemplation on his question, ”I’m not saying we cant learn to trust people, just that you shouldn’t risk exposing your throat to the unknown”

“No...” he concurred, “because that would mean trusting everything, and I would rather be prepared for it.” This came as a tacit admission to just how little he knew about what to expect in spite of his previous experiences, with an allusion to his main point tacked onto it. He let a brief second of silence hang as he adjusted himself, leaning slightly forward, still bearing visible pensivity. “This isn’t a first for me either.”

Minda raised an eyebrow and leaned in a little closer, clearly all ears on the subject ”It’s not?”

“Making allies out of people I barely knew, or just met, with only a greater common enemy to trust them by, and a god at the end of all of them who just wanted the world for himself...” Fox started listing the general facts of a particular episode in his life years prior that might strike Midna as parallel or familiar to their current overarching predicament. “Truth is I’ve been here before, and I’m not the only one. There are some of us now who still remember it. I remember us almost losing.” Fox’s tone shifted subtly while he stoically recounted the pivotal moments of the Subspace Incident.

“It wasn’t enough to have the best of us altogether. We pulled through because all of us came together. We won… with the help of our friends, and our enemies,” which, between him and Wolf, actually made for a second time for him. He turned his head slightly more toward Midna as he made to further illustrate his point. “If you can believe it, even Ganondorf was with us in the end,” and the beginning the time after that, at the cliffside, when they did lose, but he neglected to mention that much.

”He was what!” Minda balked at the possibility, flinching backwards, causing her wolfos cushion to stir and growl at Fox. The implicit threat from her mount seemed to draw Midna out of the rage and shock she was feeling. ”No. Down.” she ordered the beast, pressing its head back down to the ground.

The princess sat up from resting against the beast, her hands gripping the side of the stone platform they were sitting on as she asked ”Who could have possibly thought that working with him was a good idea? How did it not end in disaster?”

While he did watch it more attentively, Fox had no strong reaction to Midna’s lupine mount baring its fangs at him, not even so much as hovering a hand over his sidearm. In a manner of speaking, he was rather used to it by now. “I don’t know,” Fox admitted, lightly shaking his head in response. He thought back on his encounters with Bowser at the time, personally knowing him to have been responsible for it in part. “Maybe it just didn’t work out for them, and they realized they had no options left,” he guessed. Such tended to be the case for the Koopa King, having many times before sided with his nemesis upon failure, and even now sided with them in their campaign.

”I don’t like it, not one bit” Midna asserted before sighing and looking up at the ceiling ”but I take it if you don’t know much then you didn’t get close,” she glanced over at him and added ”So I think you’re safe. I’m not going to be open to working with him if that somehow ends up being a thing. But I’ll keep what you said in mind overall” before going quiet and implicitly letting him continue talking about subspace

“The last time this happened, none of us knew what we were really up against, who was behind it all, or what was at stake. We didn’t have the luxury of understanding our enemy,” a fact that remained largely unchanged, all things considered, “but at least then the burden fell on able bodies. Only those of us who could deal with it had to. Now…” he sat up into a kneel, looking down over the ledge and into the distance none of their travel companions in particular, “it’s everyone’s problem; everyone’s involved, whether they can afford to be or not.”

”These kinds of threats are always everyone’s problem, most of the time your average person won’t or can't step up to face it. That said, I don’t think we're at the point where we need to force farmers into illfiting armor to face world ending horrors at spearpoint just yet. If Galeem starts feilding armies we might need to worry about burdening the common folk, but for now the burdens are still on well worn shoulders. Anyone else can go stay in Alcamoth” She replied. She’d let go of the parapet by the time she finished speaking, but she hadn’t gone back to lounging.

”Also, how do we know that won’t happen again,” she then asked, ”Do we know for sure this is the whole picture? That Galeem’s everything we have to worry about, or is it’s light blinding us to another master behind the monster?”

Fox hung his head in thought at the question, not having speculated that far ahead. “I guess we’ll find out,” he said, blinking softly as he stood back up. “Until then, we could do worse than to improve our odds, by shortening theirs. Give them less to use against us,” he suggested, appealing to her sense of pragmatism. He began tracing the edge with his steps, then pacing around behind Midna as he continued to speak. “Not everyone in this world is even aware that anything’s wrong. I didn’t remember myself until this morning.” A more somber expression creeped onto him with his own reminder of his time under Galeem’s influence. “I could have ended up just like her,” referring not so subtly to Urbosa, “Any one of us could have.”

He stopped at the ledge leading up to one of the ramps, looking around at each of his teammates scattered throughout Naboris’ interior. “I don’t expect to save everyone, or to conscript them all if we do,” he clarified, not wanting to be misunderstood, knowing better than to be able to. Casualties of war and all. “Anyone who can and wants to help us will. That’ll be their choice to make, but I think anyone we can spare it for should have the chance to decide that for themselves,” He glanced back over to Midna. “The same one we have.”

”There’s risk involved there,” Midna countered, drifting up off the platform so she could face him as he walked behind her ”She attacked us first, first with lightning and then with sword. She was with Gannon’s servant. She would have kept fighting after she was freed,” Midna insisted ”There are people and things that cannot be reasoned with and if we try it just gives them an opening. If we don’t know they are going to be friendly or neutral when freed, then trying it anyway is a bet with lives on the line.”

She floated upwards keeping herself at eye level with him as he walked. Her arms folded and for the first time that they had been speaking she was maintaining eye contact as she spoke. ”Sure. We can try and free those we can, but if it’s a gamble on whether they’ll help or not, and the thing we are betting is the lives of those we know are in this fight? Then that’s not a bet I’d want to take. It’s a real heroic thing, what you want to do. But I hope you keep the risks in mind before you put other’s lives on the table.”

Fox slowed his pace to a halt before speaking up. “They already are,” he started, pausing for emphasis. “Ours; theirs; everyone’s lives are already at stake. Like it or not, every decision we make from here on out is a bet made on someone’s life,” he explained calmly.

With a soft sigh, he continued, “I’m not asking you to act against your better judgement; to do anything you can’t or otherwise wouldn’t do. Really, I’m not asking you to do anything at all.” In his open left palm, Fox gently manifested a fuschia heart-shape aglow with healing warmth to float idly in presentation. “I can do it. I’ll make the first bet,” he assured, “and if I’m wrong, you can let me pay for it later.” With that, he closed his grip softly around the Friend Heart to dismiss and continued walking past the Twi-imp at a leisurely pace as he continued to speak.

“You don’t have to trust everyone you meet. I won’t even ask you to trust me. I’m sure you have your reasons.” He briefly halted in his steps to further clarify, “I just need you to understand mine, so that you won’t try to stop me.”

He stopped once more on his way as a singular forethought creeped back into his head to remind him why he started this conversation in the first place. “At some point, sooner or later, you’re bound to find people you know in this world. Some you can’t do without,” he glanced back over his shoulder at Midna, “and others, like Ganon.” He brought this matter back up for the moment as a means of meeting the princess halfway as well as letting his own point set in.

“Do you think this ‘weapon’ will be enough by then?” He asked earnestly regarding Naboris’ function, looking to Midna as the resident expert on the matter of Ganon as a whole. “Could you do it alone, or will you need all you can get?” Fox returned his attention forward as he let the questions linger. “When the time comes, I’ll trust you to know,” he stated in closing before continuing on his way.

“This thing will help, that I’m sure, but enough? No. If he’s here, we’ll need every advantage we can get,” Midna said to him as he left, before returning back to the spot she’d been sitting in, never managing to get quite as comfortable as she had been before they spoke.

---

Eventually, Midna called everyone to attention in announcement of their arrival as Naboris took its encroaching steps toward the oasis, as she could see first-hand through Naboris’ eyes. Fox joined the assembly on the right-most deck to observe the scene from afar, unable to match Poppi’s magnification, but discerning enough to loosely confirm her findings. The Phantom Thieves opted to disembark near the pyramid to tend to their appointed business there, while the rest moved closer to the temple grounds themselves across the lake from it. The conflict at ground level ceased shortly after they made their first stop, giving them time to deliberate on their next course of action before the second round, starting with deciding on their advance party and a suitable drop-off point.

“Wherever we set down, I don’t think it’ll matter how close we are. No doubt anyone looking has seen us already,” he reasoned, as there was no subtlety to be had when it came to walking an ancient towering war machine into one’s territory. “If we can get in on the ground though, we might still have the chance to surprise them while they fight each other.” Fox’s use of plural pronouns suggested he, respectfully, wasn’t all in on Tora’s plan to minimize the amount of manpower going in by sending Poppi alone.

“I’m going with you,” he insisted. “The rest of you be ready to get in behind us and back us up if we need it. Engage only if and when necessary,” he advised, keeping in mind the hyper-aggressive response of those still under the ‘Light’. “Try to keep casualties and collateral to a minimum where you can. Where you can’t,” he drew out his blaster to check the action on it, ‘chambering’ it before reholstering, “do what you have to.”

He singled out their Divine pilot to lay down one additional set of instructions. “Midna,” he called on with a look in her direction, “we’ll need you to hang back to keep us covered from here. You’re our contingency. If things get bad enough for us down there, bring the storm. Crash in if you have to. Give them something bigger to fight.” He awaited only confirmation from Midna before setting out for the battlefield with Poppi.

“Let’s go,” he said to the artificial Blade, already quickening his steps for the balustrade to leap from it and begin his descent. Whether she decided to catch and carry him in then fan out from there was up to her. He would fare well enough on his own with a well-timed Jet thrust otherwise. Once he broke the boundary and made entry, he would do his best to keep his profile down while co-opting reconnaissance with Poppi, ducking immediately between narrow areas of cover and putting his back to a shadowed wall where he could get a decent visual of the battlefield while remaining hidden. All the while, he kept a ready hand near both of his weapons, ready to draw either of them on a moment’s notice.

World of Light

Level: 6 (55 -> 56/60)
Location: Limsa Lominscuttle Town; Going up!
Word Count: 222 (+1 EXP)

In her haste, Hat Kid missed the conversation Peach and company were having about acquiring a means of air travel as she drifted steadily further out of earshot, then sight. She would be disappointed soon after to find soon after reaching the heights at the outer edge of the city that her Hat would provide her no helpful guidance, as it was pointing directly to the Bottomless Sea. In fairness, it was functioning exactly as it should by generally indicating an objective destination. It just didn’t do her much good in this circumstance as far as finding a good way to get there.

After a second spent grumbling at the realization from atop a freight suspended up high on a winch, Hat Kid figured there was nowhere to go from there but up… literally. Her next move was to reach the highest point in Limsa. She didn’t know what to expect or have much of a plan for when she got there, but she made her two best assumptions about it. One, if nothing else, she would have a good vantage point from which to spot whatever she thought to seek out next. Two, if anything, or anyone else was up there with her, they probably flew to get there (unless they just so happened to be prodigal acrobats like herself).

World of Light

Level: 6 (53 -> 55/60)
Location: Edge of the Blue - Inkwell Isle Three -> Seaward Bay -> Limsa Lominscuttle Town - Hawker’s Alley -> Bulwark Hall -> ???
Word Count: 766 (+2 EXP)

As tempting as it was to jump ship to chase a Time Piece on her radar just as they were leaving port, Hat Kid made the difficult decision to instead set sail and come back for it later. The voice in her head was right. There was no telling what she would be tasked with or asked to do by the time she found it, and she would then have to find her own way across the sea afterwards to catch up. Besides, she didn’t like to work that way anyway. Anytime she made planetfall/went somewhere with a specific task or goal in mind, she didn’t detract from it to tend to another; she saw it through. There was always next time, when they made their eventual return trip on their way to the Dark Forest, so she was content to simply make it her next goal for when they passed back through.

Kid settled in as they left port and seated herself for the ride in the stillest spot she could find on an animate vessel that lived on the basic principles of animation. Of course, she made sure her spot had a panoramic view; perhaps the crow’s nest would suffice. This way she could calmly scan the horizon on all sides, from the bay to the Sea, while also keeping her mind’s eye on the waypoint and direction given respectively by her Hat and Compass. The former pointed ahead, and the latter behind, so she wanted to be aware of any sudden changes made to that as they went. Needless to say she would be opting out of the fishing minigame, but casually observing as they passed the trawler heading the opposite way.

They eventually made port at the seaborne town; Hat Kid didn’t wait for them to finish docking to jump ship and begin looking around, consulting her Hat and Compass once more. She quickly lost focus on either of her objectives with the arrival and introduction of the hybrid ship-girls, whom she giddily redirected her full attention to. Okay, maybe not her full attention. She mostly just looked them over and admired the novelty of their concept whilst skimming the listening portion of the rundown Shropshire was giving them, mostly honing in on the answer she gave that they were, in fact, ships. But is that what she really meant, or were they but pilots wearing/wielding ship parts being classified as ‘ships’? Related inquiries aside--such as how mass shipments of anything were handled in the presumed absence of proper freighters larger than a female humanoid--the child had a feeling she would have her answer sooner or later.

With Shropshire’s departure and Peach’s permission, the latter of which she wouldn’t have waited for anyway, Kid set off to explore the city at every altitude she could manage, just to cut loose in this bustling new locale they had made the right decision to come to. Though, she kept track of where Peach went in case she needed to get back to her in a hurry, which wasn’t and wouldn’t be too hard for her. In any case, the shopping district wouldn’t keep the child long, given she had nothing to spend there to make it worth her while.

Some few minutes after leaving Hawker’s Alley for the ‘ship’-yard to get a better look at its ‘navy’, Kid ended up incidentally reuniting with Peach, both of whom skipped conventional routes to get there. The Admiral, who was not at all like the subjects she commanded, was stern and rather blunt in her dialogue with the Princess, initially dismissing their mission as folly. She was right about one thing though: trust really wasn’t earned through taskwork. Hat Kid personally knew this much from experience; she mutually distrusted just about everyone she ever did a favor for, and for what almost always turned out to be good reason. Still, that didn’t seem to stop her from assigning them what sounded like a sizable task before returning to her own duties and sending them on their way.

Regarding where to go from there, the child consulted her internal waypoint for the next relevant point of interest while the others debated on the next step to take. Then it was just a matter of monkeying her way there (not that she had to, but would choose to) to see what was in store. Any who wished to follow her were welcomed to do so, but she would have to manage her pace and route choice to accommodate those less mobile than her if that included everyone.