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Hello!

I'm Pollen, hope you're not allergic. I like writing a myriad of characters in all kinds of genres, so I'm pretty much down for anything roleplay-wise.

Come talk with me if you want! I'm friendly.

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Anne Mayer
Nieve — Magic Shop

She felt the shock ripple out through the cavern, and knew at once that she had only a split second to decide. Push on and finish the job, or get out alive while she still had the chance? What was the life of one tired old Knight worth, when the entire city was potentially at stake?

The cave-in hadn't been intended, but her side could still use it to their advantage. With the tunnel blocked off, they won't be able to send fresh forces this way immediately. We can get word back to the Princess, and have the shop locked down and put under guard. That would be her justification if anyone asked her later, but in the moment she was all too aware of the small body clinging to her own, nearly paralyzed in mortal terror.

No. For once, Anne had too much to lose here to bet herself on a mad suicide mission.

A wave of fresh attacks rolled through the air towards her, but she was on her guard now, and had the wind at her back. Weaving through them was a deadly balancing act of constant awareness, pinpoint predictions, and sheer physical exertion—it only looked effortless from the outside, as she leaped, ducked, and spun her way through the barrage with acrobatic flair. With one arm clinging tight to the fae kid, she flipped over an oncoming shot and landed on the outstretched fingers of her other hand. Her legs snapped open above her just in time to let another blast pass between her knees, right before she spun her feet clockwise like opposite arrows on a compass and kicked a falling rock back towards her attacker at slightly over the speed of sound. The leftover momentum from the counter flowed seamlessly into a cartwheel-like motion, as she pushed off the floor and rolled sideways to land back on her feet right behind a passing Lewa.

That was more than enough of that for one day. With the wind-wall now helpfully shielding her from dark magic and tumbling pebbles, she broke into a run, racing through the tunnel alongside the Toa. A deep crack resounded above, and a massive boulder came tumbling down upon them both—only for the Knight to unhesitatingly lunge straight towards it.

Mayer Style: Eight Trigrams Qigong.

Her palm slammed into the stone, and it detonated from within. One moment a hurtling mass of solid rock, the next an expanding ring of dust and gravel, promptly scattered on Lewa's winds. A sound like a thunderclap joined the cacophony of the collapsing cavern, while Anne pulled back her hand and winced at the sting.

"...Tch." It wasn't good for her, using Wave Techniques in her current condition. Given the situation though, she ought to be thankful if she escaped this mess without serious injury.
Anne Mayer
Nieve — Magic Shop

The Fae child's response was there and gone in a blink, but that was enough to flood Anne's heart with a rush of relief. Maybe she wasn't all the way back just yet, but that kid was still in there, somewhere, tiptoeing slowly back towards the waking world. There was still hope for her yet—if only Anne could keep her safe.

Again, a twinge of doubt urged her to leave this place altogether, and again, she reminded herself that it couldn't be left as it was. The further the tunnel went, the more she became convinced of this fact, as the true scale of the system down here became clear. Had someone really dug all this just to get in through the back of a single magic shop, or was this merely an extension of something far larger, a network that might stretch beneath the entire city of Nieve?

Before they could find out, a new threat reared its ugly head. Anne couldn't make out exactly what had abruptly stymied the group's advance, but from the others' reactions she could guess it wasn't anything good. She stopped in her tracks and squinted, trying to get a lock on the number of enemies, to come up with a plan of attack before everything went to hell.

She never got the chance. Instincts honed over years of fighting screamed all at once in the back of her mind, and she whipped around just fast enough to glimpse a flicker of red disappear into the black. The projectile that followed was nearly invisible in the shadows, and Anne's tired eyes couldn't track it even as it sped straight towards her and her vulnerable charge.

It was only less than half a second before impact that she dropped to the floor and slipped beneath the mass of darkness like a ghost. Her free hand swept out the edge of her longcoat to clash against the lower edge of the magical attack, and for a brief moment the tunnel lit up with a faint blue glow as the Defensive Coat's hexagonal forcefields clashed with whatever energy had been thrown at her. An instant later, the dark mass ricocheted upward to splash against the ceiling, no longer a threat to Anne or her companions.

She hadn't seen that attack. It had been the Fae kid who picked it out, and the tight squeeze of her grip that alerted Anne to the projectile's timing and direction. She'd learned long ago that anyone's decisions could be conceptualized as a melody, a rhythm that dictated their every move in a fight, and the Knight could hear the girl's now, high and frightened like a string pulled taught on a fiddle. By reading the child, she could read what she was reacting to, even if Anne herself couldn't directly perceive it.

Quick as a whip, she rolled back to her feet, careful not to squash her charge in the process. She could already feel the ache in her bones, the urge to end this quickly before she had to start pushing herself for real. Normally she'd have lunged forward then, closing the distance and cutting down the enemy before they could get off another shot—but with an innocent's life in her hands, should she really risk going close-quarters with an enemy of unknown skill and ability?

She'd faced worse odds before. But this time was different: this time she was neither alone nor outgunned. Based on the prior positions of her allies, based on their fighting styles and their initial responses to the other enemies ahead, the correct choice was...

"Lady Remilia! Behind us!!"

...To pray the vampiress wasn't so haughty as to leave her backup maid in a pickle.

@Lugubrious@FujiwaraPhoenix@VitaVitaAR@Rezod92

wordcount: 5,623 (+6) (+3 rapport)
Bowser Jr: Level 14 EXP: /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////(195/140)
Rika: Level 10 EXP: /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////(114/100)
Witch: Level 2 EXP: ///////////////////////(23/20)
Location: Dead Zone


Once the method of marching was set out, and the Seekers set out, they immediately ran into a complication, in this case the drop down into the crater the blast had caused, and what a crater it was. An entire city, smashed down into a pit of mud.

Not that they could see much of it, thanks to the rain, and so the focus was more on the immediate problem, namely how to get down there.

The Koopa kids immediately gravitated towards the water, but with the field going along the rocks, that was far too risky to really consider. Instead, Jr peered over the edge at the mud slope, then glanced down at his feet, looking thoughtful. He silently got his sister’s attention, pointed to both of their boots, and then at the mud, before making a questioning shrug.

Rika tilted her head in half a moment of thought, before shrugging in a ‘why not’ kind of way and then boldly stepping a foot down onto the mud, only for her boot to stop above it rather than sink in.

Wet enough for her ship girl tech to work, it seemed, the mud below only shifting slightly from the pressure. With a grin, Jr joined her, his own replicas of the tech working just as well, while Rika looked up at the Witch, and offered her a (very large) hand, offering, it seemed, to carry her down the slope this easy way.

How convenient. The Witch had just been starting to get used to this place, the sodden and shattered corpse of a long-lost empire calling up manifold memories of her trek across Wraeclast. The only difference was the exact nature of the apocalypse wrought upon each land—and did that really matter, when all was reduced to ruin, and everything still around was desperately trying to kill her?

Feeling at home wasn’t always a good thing. Yes, she probably could have picked her way down the slope, sure-footed thanks to the grim experience of having to walk across even more unpleasant landscapes, but that would only have left her tired, and rattled, and probably not a little drenched. Rika was new, and much too alive for the Witch’s liking, but she’d shown herself trustworthy enough thus far. If she wanted to risk carrying a scorpion on her back, this sorceress wouldn’t stop her.

Her pale hand curled around Rika’s extended thumb, and the rest of her clambered swiftly up after it to perch on the shipgirl’s palm. Despite all the new gear weighing her down, she was incredibly light, like a bird that had been stretched out into unnatural mimicry of human form. Now, safely off the ground, she shifted into the most stable position she could manage and clung to Rika’s oversized digits, always alert for a crisis. Her faintly glowing eyes stared intently out into the rain, as if she could somehow will the invisible BTs into sight.

“Walking on water… You’ll have to teach me that someday.” Her voice was a soft murmur, mixed in with the sound of the rain. Though her attention right now was firmly fixed upon her own survival, it hadn’t escaped her notice that both Rika and Junior were able to cross the mud in the exact same way. And if they could both do it, then why not her as well?

Rika seemed to confirm this with an agreeing nod as she brought the Witch closer to her chest, and used the other big hand to offer back support, centralizing their collective mass and fully securing in the process. This did put the Witch somewhat in her field of view, but one of the mini planes hovered over and began to float just above them, the little camera on the front scanning to and fro as the ship girl used it to make sure she wouldn’t dash herself against the rocks.

Ahead of them also was Jr, who had been impatiently sailing to and fro, and then waved at them to hurry it up. A somewhat unnecessary gesture however, given that those taking the rock trotting next to them were painfully slow in comparison to what they could have managed on their own.

Something Miss Fortune demonstrated when she went sliding past them with none of the control they had due to leaving her rigging at home. Jr made a failed attempt at catching her, and then after a moment’s dithering, sailed down after her, a barrier flaring around him, possibly intending to carry her back up if he had too.

Fortunately both the catgirl found herself an overhang, and Jr joined her there, causing Rika to sigh and release a breath she’d been holding, the ship girl having hovered just at the edge of the field while Jr had raced on ahead.

Then she looked thoughtful, tapped the Witch very lightly to get her attention, and then nodded towards said overhang as an option they could also take, before shrugging her shoulders in question.

The Witch hadn’t missed the sliding Fortune either, though her immediate reaction had been to choke back a chuckle at the reckless beast’s mistake. It wasn’t worry that shone in her gaze as she looked on at a companion in peril, but a wry amusement: What would happen, now that she was outside the main shield? Would she fail to scramble back in time, and wither before the Witch’s eyes? That would be quite interesting to watch, and she’d get a free zombie out of it besides—yes, she decided, she rather hoped that kitty would roll over and die right there.

But alas, the girl-beast was quick, and Junior was already sailing ahead to her rescue regardless. Would he have done the same for the Witch, if she’d been out in the rain? She pondered this, but made no comment on the slapstick chain of events, at least until Rika tried to get her attention.

In answer, the sorceress shook her head, and silently mouthed a few words. “Slow and steady.” The kitty had just demonstrated the dangers of rushing ahead, and the Witch was of no mind to follow her. Better to keep pace with the rest of the group, to stay a nice safe distance from the edges of the shield, and most of all be close enough to notice right away when one of those machines went off. If they ventured out too far and got snuck up on by invisible monsters, their fates would be well and truly sealed—and the Witch wasn’t quite ready to embrace her own death yet.

Fortunately, it wouldn’t take them too long to catch up anyway. The Seekers all clambered and stumbled and sailed along in their own unique ways, until Nadia and Junior both were welcomed back into the fold. Just in time for some real excitement to begin: an odradek went off, chirping and flapping its wings like a bird. The Witch’s eyes suddenly widened, and she leaned so far forward that she very nearly tumbled right out of Rika’s hands.

Where are you? She wasn’t such a fool as to go running off in search of the undead, but at the same time the BTs fascinated and frustrated her. She should have taken one of those baby tanks, so she could see, so she could understand. Who knew what sort of fascinating visions she was missing out on right now, what kind of knowledge might lie just beyond her sight?

With her hovering drones, the ship girl carrying her gave her an unintentional summary of what was going on beyond the rain and bodies: She took in a sharp intake of breath as her head snapped in the direction of the incident, held it while fingers pressed in just a little tighter, and then a release breath, grip, and locked gaze as the unseen danger passed.

Jr gave a point, thumbs up, and head tilt in query in addition to these tells, to which the ship girl gave a nod, fully confirming that they were not about to be vaporized off the face of the world. Then, having run out of sailable mud, she moved to set the Witch down on solid(-er) ground, crouching down a little to place feet on the ground.

At that point, it was back to foot slogging across the merely wet rather than watery ground, but fortunately after the initial learning experience with alerting the BTs, the seekers got the hang of being sneaky and watching the odradeks to work out where the unseen threats were. Sinkholes also proved a problem for some, but the koopa kids simply floated on those, and were strong enough to pull any nearby out without too much issue.

Naturally, just as things were settling into a steady rhythm, they got to a complication, namely the crevasse blocking their way forwards.

The two koopa kids took a look at it, and quietly considered if they could ”Jump?” the pit, but that proved to be unnecessary a little later when Sectonia created a platform. The other options were ”dry?” regarding going down into the crevasse itself, and ”treasure?” regarding the crashed ship.

True, there was tar all around, but the kids could sail over that, albeit slowly, which turned a potential death sentence into merely a risk of losing shield up time.

As pleasant as it had felt to be carried around like the queen she was, having her own two feet planted firmly upon the earth reassured the Witch in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She had a sense of being more in touch with this land, in tune with its dark powers. Just her and one vast, hateful continent, locked in a dance of death… The only thing missing was her retinue of undead servants. For now, these living ones would have to do.

Once she’d touched down, she wasted no time in setting off along with the rest of the group, her pace unfaltering as ever. She didn’t race swiftly ahead, nor did she lag cautiously behind: hers was a march as relentless as the living dead, devouring the ground step by dispassionate step. Quicksand wasn’t an obstacle she was familiar with, but that didn’t matter: the Witch was happy to let others roam forward and puzzle out the safe routes across the terrain, the winding trails of their footprints a guide she could use to avoid most dangers. Let her allies tempt fate and stake their lives on the journey; she was perfectly happy to reap the fat fruits of their courage.

However, for all that she did not fear this land and its perils, it would be obvious to anyone that the Witch was growing antsier with every moment. Odradeks chirped and clapped and spun, and she wisely kept her distance from the things they pointed out, but she could not help but stare. Could not help but hope that maybe one of the BTs would catch a so-called ally, and she’d get to watch, and see exactly what it was these dead things did when they got a hold of a warm body. Her eyes blazed with frustration, and the narrow fingers of her right hand twitched, on the verge of reaching for her wand. Here was a sorceress used to blasting her way through problems, used to routing all enemies with ghostly hordes so she could freely pick through the spoils of war. Having to hold back, to stay quiet and passive, to just leave these dangerous and fascinating creatures that she wanted so badly to know better—it really didn’t suit her.

Luckily, things soon took an interesting turn. It wasn’t the gaping chasm that drew the Witch’s attention (yet another time-wasting obstacle), nor the fiery orange glow that pulsed deep within (she’d seen lava before, and she wasn’t a fan). Once she caught sight of the ship, she had eyes for nothing else, and no sooner had the Koopa Kids spoken than she voiced her answer with barely contained glee.

“Treasure.”

She started forward, turning only just long enough to beckon for Rika to follow. Not that she wasn’t confident she could deal with any threats herself, but the girl’s ability to slide across water could be useful for getting over the pool of tar surrounding the craft. As for the other dangers, the BTs, the Timefall, they would just have to chance them. She’d made it this far by playing cautious, but now a valuable bounty lay nearly within reach, finally giving her a viable reason to cut loose and do what she did best.

”Treasure” Rika echoed enthusiastically, not needing much encouragement to go along with the plan. Neither did Jr, it seemed, who promptly scampered along after them.

Even as she strode towards her goal, she pointed in different directions, signaling to those who dared follow along with her. Rather than venture across flat ground and risk getting caught in the Timefall on the way out, they’d take the ledges within the ravine, relying on overhangs to minimize their own exposure without descending deep enough to deal with whatever lurked at the bottom. Once again, the Witch proved herself a capable hiker, as she doggedly made her way along the narrow and rocky paths without so much as glancing at the drop below.

Of course, they couldn’t rely on the emitter’s field and the cover of the cliffs forever, not without descending deeper into the ravine and losing sight of their goal. After about half a minute of walking, the Witch found a section of cliff with some easy handholds and unhesitatingly began to clamber up, emerging into the open air and the pouring rain.

Rika came flying up and then lightly touched down a moment later, the ship girl, her brother held under arm, managing to simply leap up the cliff face through a combination of spirit granted mobility and a magic rune on her gauntlet’s palm.

As their shield began to light up from the constant assault, the Witch picked up the pace and jogged across the muddy ground to the edge of the tar pool, and the Koopa kids followed suit.

A quick test with the toe of one boot showed the surface to be surprisingly firm, much less risky than she’d first assumed. With not a moment to waste, she strode across the field and ducked under one of the craft’s spider-like legs, where she paused to catch her breath in the safety of shelter. First, a quick glance around her for any oncoming threats, then, a look back to see if the others were keeping up. Finally, she turned her eyes back on the ship itself, and peered at the hull of the craft in search of an easy point of entry.

Her checks found, in order, no (visible) hostiles, the kids catching up with her and ducking into the same cover, and then finally a hole in the side of the ship, just a short jog from their hiding spot.

That final glance also revealed vague signs of life inside the ship, vague shapes shambling through the shadows behind the wall of rain.

”No BTs in there then” Jr guessed quietly, before glancing at the others, nodding, and making a run for the breach in the ship’s hull, with Rika leading the charge.

She ducked inside and out of sight of the Witch, after which there came a few sounds in quick succession: ”Hi there!” some kind of groan, and then a slam as something heavy impacted with the wall, follow finally by ”Rude” from Rika

Once she got inside, she found Rika unharmed, amidst the rather dead looking bodies of a few lanky beings in strange armor. An odd sight indeed in this world of light. These were scattered across some kind of control room, including one with a more fancy looking helmet sat in a seat pointed directly at the singular window in the room.

Even more strangely, the bodies were lacking actual heads, the helmets’ fronts blown open from the inside by the detonation of the unfortunate beings’ brains. The Witch got a good look at this when one of the bodies, which had been slammed into the wall a few moments ago, tried to pick itself up in order to lunge at her in a very zombie-esque fashion.

“Hmm…?”

A blinding crescent of blue-white light flashed through the air, catching her attacker clean in the midsection. Ice blossomed out from the impact point, and the creature stumbled, momentarily slowed by the patches of frost that suddenly formed all across its body.

The Witch cocked her head, examining it with a quizzical expression. “How fascinating. Then her wand twitched again, and a ball of fire struck the alien dead-on, blasting it nearly in half.

It wasn’t alone, however. No sooner had one fallen than the sound of the fight prompted a handful more to come stumbling into the chamber. They emerged from the rear of the ship at a rapid pace for their kind of undead, running, and then leaping, at the intruders into their resting ground. Stranger still was one who came in bent over backwards, its long arms allowing it to perform a bizarre quadrupedal gait, before it floated up into the air. When it did so random bits of machinery around started doing the same, before being hurled at them, poltergeist style.

And that was the Witch’s cue to hide. “Good luck,” she whispered, even as she ducked behind Junior and let him take the brunt of the assault. A girl like her simply wasn’t built for weathering blows. If she could help it, she wouldn’t so much as poke her head out of cover to aim another spell.

…Not that she needed to. Already her wand was moving again, casting twice more. Two of the headless corpses (the ones that hadn’t been moving) abruptly stood up, swayed in place for a moment, and then charged into the fray, now relentlessly attacking their own kindred.

She had, as it turned out, picked very suitable companions to hide behind in all manners except for height. Junior raised his right arm, the once covered in metal runes, and from it sprang forth iron, first in the form of a shield which he caught a leaping zombie with ease despite the massive size difference, then a hail of knives that lanced out from the side of the shield, paused just after clearing its edges, and then lanced in to skewer the undead from all sides. After that pushed the disintegrating body aside and spat a fireball at the foes, the flaming shot bursting into a rain of flames that lingered on the ground, burning other zombies that came after the struck one.

At his side, Rika’s halberd flickered on her back, and then appeared in her gauntleted hand in time to skewer another leaping zombie, before the weapon flickered once more and took on the form of a lance and shield combo. With the first zombie style impaled on the lance used the other part of the pair to knock one of the charging zombies back with a shield bash, before discharged a flak cannon round from its mounted gun right into its torso. This sent it stumbling back into the path of another zombie, sending both sprawling to the floor right before the timed charge in the round ripped both of them apart.

Unfortunately, both they and the Witch’s friendly undead were mostly dealing with what came at them, which left the floater free to hurl things wherever it pleased. A splintered shard of metal impaled the Witch’s undead minion who was not wearing the fancy helmet, a stray wall panel crashed against Rika’s shield, and then one of the blocky monitors from the ship’s control system went hurtling over the heads (and shields) of the Witch’s short defenders.

The young sorceress had less than a second to make her choice: try and blast it out if the air, let her energy shield take the hit, or cut the casting and throw herself to the floor? On instinct, she went for the third option. The monitor blew past uncomfortably close to her head, but ultimately left her unharmed—albeit nearly out of mana and not in any good position to contribute to the fight.

Her free hand quickly worked to uncork a mana potion and tip it past her lips (it tasted of magic, like bottled lightning with a hint of citrus). Crouched down behind the front lines like a rat, she waited for the next wave of debris to fly past before she abruptly sprang up and returned fire in the most literal sense possible.

Over the heads (or lack thereof) of the other combatants flew a crackling sphere of flame, and then another. Before the possessed corpse could even finish gathering more metal to throw, its intended projectiles were blasted apart in a pair of deafening explosions, both of which were wide enough to singe the creature itself. Rocking in midair, it floated to one side as it searched for more ammunition—

At which point Loki’s Horns triggered on the Witch’s third cast, and three explosive fireballs came simultaneously roaring out in a wide spread.

There was nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. The entire ship briefly shuddered as four projectiles (including an extra one launched straight backwards) detonated all at once, lighting the floater on fire and once again dashing apart its projectiles before it could let fly. Its psychokinesis was no doubt a powerful tool, but once a true spellcaster got going, there was nearly nothing that could match them in terms of sheer destructive output.

…Of course, after three consecutive casts the Witch’s mana pool was already ebbing away again However, her long-range duel had bought the frontliners time to fight on unimpeded, and her own zombies never stopped pressing the attack. Without fear, nor pain, nor remorse, they did nothing but attack, attack, move on to the next target, and then attack some more. One of them still had a jagged piece of metal stuck all the way through its torso and hardly even seemed bothered by it. Their mindless blows weren’t likely to fell many enemies on their own, but they made excellent meat shields, and forced the enemy undead into one-on-one slugging matches that left them wide open to being flanked and taken out.

Take advantage of this the Koopa Kids very much did. Free from having to worry about flying debris, Jr hurled his shield like a discus at one of the zombies who was distracted fighting the friendly undead, before forming a spear of iron and charging into the fray with a ”Yaaaah!”

”Perish peons!” his sister demanded as she charged along with him, delivering an at a jog lance strike to a zombie before her rigging turrets hammered it 4 barrel barrage from their disruption cannons.

Zombies turned on them, only for those attempting to counter flank to run into the blocking blade of a blood knight, and the decoy log of a lightning scythe armed ninja, before both strikers struck back with a powerful cleave and a grapple slash respectively.

With their sides protected, RIka switched back to her helbard, hacking its sharpened spine like blade into a foe, before flipping the weapon and shotgunning another with its base mounted cannons, while jr produced a storm of iron shanks from his arm that shot out at the surrounding foes, riddling them with stab wounds.

With the advantage now decisively theirs, the Witch could make riskier plays. She raced forward into the fighting proper, and raised up a fresh zombie as she did, this one tall enough for her to safely crouch behind. While the possessed corpse was steadily burning to a crisp right now, it would be a few more moments before it finally gave up the ghost, long enough for it to throw a few more improvised projectiles. No doubt the other Seekers could handle these—but at this point it might not even matter. The enemy ‘leader’ was about to be faced with an overabundance of targets, more than it could take out if it tried.

One of the Witch’s zombies collapsed to the ground, no longer physically able to keep going. Her newest one charged forward to replace it, and was joined a second later by another. Two more followed after them, bulking up the frontline to a full five friendly zombies. A wall of meat, relentlessly pushing onward even as the sorceress scuttled about behind it and sniped at her foes with translucent kinetic arrows.

”Oh nice, more minions” Jr said as he took no issue with using one of the now friendly corpses as cover as well, building up floating host of spears while behind it, before popping out and nailing an enemy one with a barrage of shots. When he tried this on the kineticist however, it managed to catch some of them, before promptly starting to hurl them back one by one.

Still, its supply of troops had dwindled to the point where it was outnumbered, leaving it in prime position for takedown. It was Rika who provided this. She pulled back a gauntleted fist while behind a zombie, magic charging in the machinery, before she tapped the palm of the other hand, launching herself above the zombie and unleashing the stored power. The charged fist went rocketing forwards and towed the ship girl along for the ride, sending her crashing into the floater and punting it up into the ceiling while she landed below it.

The gauntlet used to deliver the charged strike failed right after, flopping down to her side while the ship girl herself seemed more unsteady for the lack of it, but she didn’t let that daunt her. Instead her halberd reappeared in her other hand, cannon end pointing towards the foe, before she gave it a close to point blank blast with both barrels.

Finally, the spear flickered again, appearing point first, and the princess drove this point into the floater, skewering its beaten, burned and pellet riddled body with a final blow that took it out of the fight.

With the main threat dealt with, the Witch’s zombies quickly mopped the war of attrition against the hostile ones, the living fighters alongside them merely speeding up that process to its natural end. Once it was over, they were left with no hostile zombies and a gaggle of eight friendly ones, which the two kids seemed to have zero issue with.

”Nice power, that’s really handy, long as you're already doing alright in the fight” Jr complimented, before wondering “Though does it mean we can't loot their spirits?”

”Can we just take what’s on them? Like whatever that is?” Rika asked, pointing out a ring one of corpses that had been fully dead when they arrived rather than walking about being a nuisance had been wearing.

“Why not? My servants don't care for trinkets.” As she spoke, the Witch pried off the ring and inspected it for a moment, then tossed it over to Rika. “I have no use for this one. But maybe you’ll find it more to your taste, sailor girl.

In the meantime, once the mess of the battle was sorted out, Junior would find that the spirits of the re-killed undead were indeed still present. The Witch’s zombies had no souls to call their own: it would be simpler to call them dolls or machines made of meat and dark magic. The corpse provided the material, but all traces of consciousness and individual identity were left behind once they entered her service. If the not-dragon thought he could scavenge anything of worth from those, then there would be little to stop him, but the Witch did not concern herself with such trash.

If she was going to take any soul, it would be Rika’s. Not now, while she yet lived and breathed, but… The time would come. There were spells that did raise the spirit along with the flesh, and one day the Witch would wield them again, swelling her army with the mightiest soldiers she could find. When that day arrived, she wondered, would the sailor girl be the first?

Having fully recovered, the group took a closer look around the ship, and soon found two things. First, an eye-like scanning device in front of a locked door, and secondly the very large guns of the ship, the guts of which had been exposed to the open air by the crash.

While Rika rooted around in the guns, and specifically their ammunition stores, the other two had a look at the scanner and door, the latter of which proved rather unbreakable. As the Witch squinted and poked at the scanner, Jr guessed that ”It’s looking for something” before holding up a hand in front of it, causing the green glow it was emitting to blink and then turn red in rejection.

”Something their boss would have had probably?” he suggested, glancing back at the one who’d been in the ship’s driver's seat, the one with the fancier helmet, and groaning as he said that ”but he doesn't have any pockets!”

The Witch frowned. “Bring him over here, then.” She pointed with her wand, and a dutiful pair of zombies yanked the body out of its seat and dragged it wholesale to the door. Without the slightest bit of respect for the fallen, the Witch lifted its hand and scanned it, triggering another red blink.

“...Their engineers must have been a truly worthless lot.” How would the crew have used it anyway? She couldn’t imagine them lifting their boots to scan them every time they needed to open the door. If it wasn’t the hands, then the next best thing would be…

“...His head’s missing. Still, the helmet’s worth a try.”

Green flash. The door hissed, groaned, and then slowly slid open, revealing some kind of storage space packed tightly with shelves. Most of what they’d held was either gone or damaged beyond repair, but one lucky piece remained untouched: an unassuming rifle. Unassuming at first glance anyway, as when Jr retrieved it, and test pulled the trigger, it unleashed a stream of plasma that started cutting straight through the bulkhead of the ship.

”Oh wow”

The Witch was unimpressed. “I could do better.” Why lug around heavy machines to spew fire, when a simple wand and some skill in thaumaturgy would do? She turned on her heel, flanked by her zombies, and ambled over to see what Rika had dug up.

Rika had made her own find, namely enough ammo to fill both her rifle and her halberd’s dual cannon, apparently in the form of ammo pickups that refused to do anything, even be moved, other than refill ammo of a presented weapon. Why this was the case was unclear. She also had, for some reason, ripped out a random piece of circuitry at the heart of the ship’s gun.

The button on it did, admittedly, blink very pleasingly. The Witch leaned in, her eyes glowing with interest, and faintly smiled. “Very pretty. I’ll take this one for myself, if you don’t mind.” Assuming Rika had kept the metal band, it seemed a fair enough trade, and they could always swap items around at the armory later.

Further searching through the dim confines of the ship revealed little else they could make use of. Perhaps the spirits would drop something handy, but sitting about crushing them all would take up time, and so Jr suggested they just send them to the armory if they didn’t want any to use as strikers.

“I’ve had enough of this place.” The Witch made her way back to the gaping entrance, and stared out into the rain. “Let’s get back to the shield. Where have all the others gotten to, anyway?”

Rika, who still had her scout hovering around the SFE field, gave them a quick update: ”Lotta angry red guys tried to kill them. Didn’t work. Looks like they’re still resting on the other side of the lava pit after that. Dunno about the lava canyon team, but definitely sounded like there was shooting down there, so they must still be good”

“Hmm.” The Witch’s noncommittal answer made it hard to tell whether she was pleased or disappointed. “Quickly, then. The dead here are restless, and it’s best if we don’t linger when they come knocking.”

She pointed her wand at the side of the ship, and all eight of her zombies swarmed it at once, ripping a huge panel of armor off its side. Whatever the craft was made of, it was evidently hardy enough to withstand the Timefall, and the Witch’s undead servants now held it up above their heads like a giant umbrella, wide enough for the sorceress and anyone else who cared to take shelter as they moved.

Together, the gang raced back the way they’d come, sprinting through the rain, leaping (thanks to Rika’s featherfall rune) back down cliffs, and then hustling along the crevasse to catch up with the [whichever you’d prefer] team. The Witch had to make her zombies throw their cover down the pit once they got to the cliffside paths, but by that point the terrain already provided cover from the rain. Before long, they were within sight again, coming up from behind to where Sectonia had set up her platform. If she’d be kind enough to let them cross, they’d soon join the rest of the Seekers on the other side, a little richer and more experienced for their detour.
Anne Mayer
Nieve — Magic Shop

Once all the enemies were thoroughly dealt with and she had a moment to breathe, Anne let out a sigh of relief and lowered the Fae girl off her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she quietly asked, kneeling down to look the child in the eyes and then giving the rest of her a quick once-over to check for injuries. Nothing would have struck her directly in the battle, but the Knight still didn't know how fragile her charge might be, or what sort of conditions might affect her well-being in situations like this. Would the violence worsen her trauma, or would she just take it in with the same blank stare she seemed to give everything else?

Once she'd verified that the girl at least wasn't badly hurt, Anne turned to the rest of her group. "The mission's technically a failure... Well, I should just call it a job rather than a mission. Anyway, if there are no goods to retrieve, we can't fulfill our obligations to the Princess." Their employer would likely want an explanation and maybe an apology, but she hadn't given any specific orders on what to do in a situation like this. Given the circumstances, Anne thought they could be excused for taking matters into their own hands.

"...It's a pain, but I'm with Lewa on this. If we leave this situation alone, whoever wanders in here next is just going to get killed." Plus, there was the matter of who'd set up those skeletons and why. Anne didn't think old bones just got up and put on armor by themselves, even in this world, which meant they were probably animated by magic. That in turn meant they'd been deliberately placed here and primed to attack any intruders—not the actions of someone with good intentions in mind.

She'd come here promising to protect this city. Even if it meant personal risk and inconvenience, even if it meant subjecting her companions to the same, she would press forward and save those who could still be saved.

Of course, the Fae child didn't have any business being down here with them, but Anne couldn't exactly leave her unsupervised or send her up to the streets on her own. After carefully picking up the girl once again, she followed up at the back of the group, trusting the others to bear the brunt of any further traps.
Anne Mayer
Nieve — Magic Shop

Yep, it's a trap.

Anne already regretted ever taking this job. At the very least, when they found the storefront completely empty, they should have just turned around and reported it back to the Princess. How the heck did they end up stuck underground, surrounded by enemies, and cut off from all possible backup?

She'd blame her ragtag coworkers, but honestly it was just has much her fault for following along this whole time. No amount of grumbling would solve their current situation anyway, and she held her tongue as she ducked backward from the rapidly advancing enemies.

"We need to stay close. Don't let them isolate you!" Her retreat brought her closer to Lewa and Remilia, covering their flank. They could protect each other's backs this way, and maybe give the vampire some space to fire off her ranged attacks. Fran could probably handle herself in a brawl, which just left the fae child... With a sigh, Anne hoisted the kid over her shoulder, holding her in place with one arm. "Sorry about this. It's going to get a bit rough, so close your eyes, okay?"

<Suppressor off. Limiter release, level one.>

The first armored figure to come thumping forth met with a front kick straight to the midsection, caving in its chestplate and shattering the ribcage underneath. The creature flew backward, and the Knight's sword came out, brandished one-handed against the advancing cohort.

"No organs, not even any muscles from what I can tell... Who made these things?"

The question of how to kill them was perhaps more relevant to the situation, but Anne had some ideas there. When the next skeleton swung a heavy axe at her, she cleanly deflected the blow and switched without hesitation to the attack. Her sword became a silver blur, the sound of metal on metal ringing out several times in succession as her blade seemed to abruptly change directions without regard for physics or momentum.

Pray Style: Forest-Penetrating Viper. Without vital organs to stab and with armor covering the opponent's body, she targeted the joints. Both knees, right shoulder, neck, left shoulder: each strike slid through openings between metal plates or simply bypassed them with blunt force, destroying the key points of articulation in an instant. Then, before the undead contruct could pull itself back together or even collapse to the ground, she stabbed her sword-point up through its visor and popped the skull clean off the severed vertebrae.

"...Not even a brain." With a flicking motion, she sent the detached head hurtling off into the dark to smash against the nearest wall.

With all the rest she'd been getting recently, her body seemed to be holding up well. On the other hand, she was sharply conscious of a blur creeping in around the edges of her vision, already strained trying to make anything out in the lightless basement. She could only hope there'd be less enemies here than there had been in the last fight, because she couldn't keep this up all day.

@VitaVitaAR@Lugubrious@Rezod92
Witch

Level 2 (6/20 EXP)
Location: The Avenger
Word Count: 839 (2 exp gained)


Though the hairy little man may have answered her question, what he told the Witch only left her twice as baffled as before. ‘Airship’ she could more or less decipher: it was probably just a ship that sailed across the skies instead of the seas. A useful word, apt to describe the craft the Seekers rode around in. As for the rest of his vocabulary, however… ‘Complete nonsense’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Elerium-based? Nanotech? Space-farin? GEATHJERK?? The bewildered sorceress could only stare uncomprehending, victim once more to the unpleasant feeling of being far out of her depth. She’d meant to scare the engineer into spilling his guts, but rather than quail in fear he’d freely given her information she could scarcely even grasp. Was he so naïve as to somehow think her harmless? She nearly bristled at that, but immediately found herself stopped by a more important question—if this pint-sized tinkerer was telling the truth, then he was perhaps the most knowledgeable mortal the Witch had even encountered.

She paused, and took a deep breath. “I… See.” Clearly it wouldn’t do to rush recklessly in like she had been. These people were more unique than she could possibly have expected; perhaps even she couldn’t fathom the consequences of getting on their bad side. She resolved to try being a little more polite for the moment, to take advantage of their blind trust. It wasn’t often that people trusted the Witch, and less often still that she repaid that trust in kind; she really ought to enjoy this rare experience while it lasted.

“Yes, friend.” The word tasted strange in her mouth, but she nodded along and tried to put on her least ghoulish smile. “I don’t think ‘Martha’ quite suits me, though. Perhaps ‘Maratha’ will do.” The name had more of a Wraeclastian ring to it, and sounded a great deal more menacing than the furball’s suggestion. Already her plan of sucking up was bearing fruit: if science was the foundation upon which this airship was build, then a lot of things suddenly made a great deal more sense.

The Witch knew of science. The study of the natural world, which some scholars applied for practical purposes. Even in her own world it had been vital in its way, but its power and allure had always paled compared to the world-shaking might of thaumaturgy. Why waste time studying the fragile laws of physics, when a single swipe of a witch’s wand could rend those laws asunder?

Maybe, she now understood, this was why. Maybe in a world without gods and nightmares run rampant, a world where the natural order still held sway, that methodical practice of science could advance to heights she’d never have imagined. Rather than swat aside gravity with powerful magic, perhaps gravity could be tamed and understood—and through such understanding, a mountain of iron made to soar through the skies.

A little humbled, but all the more fascinated by the new horizons opening before her eyes, the Witch signaled her assent. “A gift, for me? You really don’t have to. But yes, the sum total of human knowledge is just what I need right now; be a good friend and hand it over.” In magic as well as science, she was starting at the bottom of the ladder, but with enough will and cunning she’d soon lord it over these fools in every possible field.

After a brief bout of bickering (she couldn’t even begin to understand what all the fuss was about), the device was in her hands. The Witch bit her tongue and accepted it as gracefully as she could manage—then immediately scurried off to a dark corner of the engine room, where she might examine her prize unobserved. It wouldn’t do to have them know what she was learning; better that she mask her progress and catch them by surprise.

It took her only a minute or so to work out how to manipulate the glowing panel, and from there she quickly delved deep into the channels of the Inter-knot, devouring all the knowledge she could find. Just how far had science, come, in this World of Light where everything fit together? A few searches soon yielded remarkable results: skyscrapers, aircraft, telephones, motor vehicles. Harnessed lightning carried through mile upon mile of copper thread, vibrating membranes that could mimic the sound of someone’s voice, glass eyes that watched and recorded every moment they saw. She looked up briefly to glance around the room she was in, aware and observant now for any spying cameras.

The device in her hands was more than just a library, though. It was a communicator, a messenger that sent and received words across incredible distances almost faster than the Witch could blink. With mounting glee, she tried reaching out to a few of her old acquaintances, who also seemed to have found their way into this invisible network of information. Needless to say, many of them were quite excited to hear from her.

Anne Mayer
Nieve — Magic Shop

Oh thank goodness, Fran was stepping up. Whether or not she was actually a Chimera, that girl had strength and durability on par with one, and could probably take just about anyone on this planet if it came to it. Anne gratefully stood aside to let the Servant go ahead, and followed carefully down the stairs after her, about six paces behind.

Even in the dim light, it was clear the Knight wasn't enjoying herself. These cramped conditions really didn't suit her... How did she go from chatting up a royal to traipsing around in some dingy basement? She might not be as haughty as Remilia, but she was still a woman with standards, and even she was reaching her limit in these latest environs. Only a sharp instinct for danger and the ever-present weight of the young girl kept her alert, ready to act if and when things did go sideways down here.

She hadn't made much of the scratches in the storefront above, but by now it was obvious to even her tired eyes that something was badly amiss. "It's like they let an animal loose in here... Those centipede creatures you guys fought before, could they burrow?" She was only guessing, but none of the other likely answers seemed any better. A not-insignificant part of her was tempted to just let Fran walk off into the darkness alone, and handle whatever it was with a good thwack from her mace.

...Then again, a more cunning enemy might loop around the Berserker and set upon the seemingly vulnerable group behind her. Without foreknowledge of the enemy's combat power, sticking together was the only viable option. With a deep sigh, the Knight trudged on after Fran into the dust and murk, accompanied by the soft crunch of glass shards breaking underfoot.

@VitaVitaAR@Lugubrious@Rezod92
Witch

Level 2 (3/20 EXP)
Location: The Avenger
Word Count: 1812 (3 exp gained)

(Featuring Tora and Poppi by @Lugubrious)


Goldlewis may have stood out in a crowd, but what did that matter? To the Witch he was nothing more than another fool, another case of life wasted on a mind that did not deserve it. She could see it in his eyes, in the way they judged her without hesitation and painted her in colors of fear and revulsion. She hadn’t even laid a finger upon this man, but already he had decided she was too strange—too different—to ever be trusted.

It was nothing new to her. She’d faced stares like that ever since she was a child, sickly and friendless and brimming with inappropriate questions. Good little girls weren’t meant to wonder about how living things worked, or what happened to your body after you died. Good little girls should be reading their storybooks and reciting their prayers, so that they grew up to be good little wives. The young Witch had needed to go hunting for the answers all by herself, and in the pulled-apart guts of captured animals she uncovered more fascinating questions still.

With every year that passed after that, the strange girl grew steadily stranger. She ventured places she wasn’t meant to go, opened books she wasn’t meant to read, and learned things that nobody was ever meant to know. She became so strange that the good people of Oriath began to fear her, to lash out against her—first with mockery and condemnation, and then with fire. No doubt this Goldlewis was also a good person, and no doubt he’d just as readily cast her into the flames, if she didn’t do the same to him first.

So, that was to be their relationship. The Witch kept up her blank smile and listened closely to his tale, never showing a hint of surprise or apprehension. It all sounded rather convenient, actually: just kill seven underlings and then she could carry out some well-earned retribution. If anything, the extra steps would make this even more fun.

“Why don’t I come along, then? You won’t be disappointed.”

All together they left the city, partners in deicide, united only by their desire to bring this whole world crashing down. Another soon joined them, and the Witch greeted her with the usual eerie stare. Just how many of these Seekers were there? She could only hope that some of them fell in the battle against Galeem, or else it would be quite annoying to clean them all up afterwards.

Her irritation only increased when the woman promptly shot down her zombies. “Those were my servants, Sandalphon! Mine to raise, and mine to dispose of.” The tips of her hair rose up and floated in the air as she stalked towards the angel, her tone laced with poison. “Interfere with anything that belongs to me again, and I’ll have to teach you the consequences in person.” Now only a foot away from Sandalphon, she locked eyes with her and held her gaze for an uncomfortably long moment before turning away. Just because these people were useful to her for now, it didn’t mean she’d allow any slight against her to go unpunished. The others would do well to take note of that next time they had any qualms about her choice of assistants.

Fortunately for everyone, the sorceress didn’t linger on the matter for long. She was more interested in the Fulton device, which she examined with naked curiosity while she strapped it around herself. This is new. Though it bore vague semblance to a pack or parcel, she’d never seen any quite like it before. At some point in the future she’d have to ferret one away somewhere private, and puzzle it apart until she understood how it worked in its entirety. For the moment, at least, the other Seekers seemed to think it safe enough to rely on, so she’d trust that it functioned as intended.

“Up we go…” She tugged her cord, and then clenched her teeth tight together as the earth shot away beneath her. Her stomach roiled, her vision began to fade away at the edges, but had it not been for the whipping winds and the sheer force of acceleration rendering it impossible she might have cackled with wild delight. To fly, and be free as a bird—to see the world splayed out in miniature underneath, like a toy she could break or rearrange at her pleasure. The Witch treasured the sensation for as long she possibly could before the rush overwhelmed her mind and forced her back into the dreamless dark.



She awoke alive, already a lucky thing. So many took life for granted, ignoring the gift that it truly was. The Witch breathed in deep as she came to her senses, and took in her new surroundings by degrees. Her new ‘friends’ were all here, along with that ignorant angel from before. None of them greatly interested her for the moment, though: it was the place that caught her attention, the walls and floors hewn from solid steel. The entire room vibrated softly with a barely contained power, and a glance out the window revealed a sight not too dissimilar from what she’d witnessed before: the earth at a distant remove, and the clouds all above and around her. The Seekers’ base was a castle in the sky, and for the first time the Witch found herself frankly impressed by the crew she’d chosen to join. With such might and resources at their command, they might truly have a shot at bringing down the Lord of Light, even without her generous assistance.

More than anything, she wanted it now for herself. What better throne to rule from than one that perched among the clouds, far beyond the reach of the benighted masses below?

All for a later time, once the present situation was dealt with. In the moment, she kept herself cool and impassive, and directed her attention to the chart of the sky-castle’s innards. Many of the names held tantalizing fragments of meaning, but by and large she couldn’t make much sense of it all. No matter: if they saw fit to let her roam here as she pleased, then she would exploit that privilege for all it was worth. Without another word to Grimm or any of the other unfortunates in the Deployment Bay, she slipped off through the entrance to the engine room, following her intuition towards the thrumming source of the Avenger’s tremendous power.

When the Witch stepped through the aperture, the angular, metallic confines of the airship's halls opened up into a chamber of unanticipated size, like a cavern at the end of an underground tunnel. Its true bottom, carpeted in dark mechanical miscellanea and clearly not meant for human traffic, lay a dozen or so feet below the entrance, but the platform that extended before her served as the room's functional floor. Before anything else, though, the newcomer was obliged to take in the Engine Room's namesake: a colossal, three-floor contraption of smooth, rounded metal and bulbous, reinforced glass, housing a suspension of luminous, bubbling fluids that surrounded various mechanisms within that twisted and turned in inexplicable patterns. With no pistons, turbines, magnets, or crankshafts in sight, this was a marvelous feat of engineering so far beyond the modern man as to be utterly alien, which in a very literal sense, it was.

For a scion of a medieval era, of course, it might as well be magical. The yellow-green glow emanated from its tanks, the strangely sonorous hum, and the subtle but bizarre smell given off by the engine did little to dissuade this impression. From its exterior ran a number of cables and trusses, stretched out with the lethal beauty of a spider's web. Though it did not beat, there could be no doubt that this fantastical construct was the Avenger's heart, the source of the power to defy gravitational law.

Indeed, she’d never seen thaumaturgy quite like this, though the structure wasn’t so unfamiliar to the Witch as one might at first assume. Even in her time, magi and madmen had combined science with nightmare to forge metal creations of horrifying potency… For now this vast engine remained beyond her comprehension, but with sufficient time and study it might not have to remain that way.

After a moment of staring wonderment, she moved on. In the eerie glow of the engine lay two workstations, one at either end of the chamber. Closer to the entrance the Witch found a square formation of sophisticated machines, arranged like the standing stones of some archaic ritual circle. This electronic perimeter almost completely enclosed the actual work zone, where a pair of strange inventors were fiddling with an elaborate prototype device.

One looked like an aged human, albeit with bizarre proportions. Short and squat, with a head almost as big as his torso and a spiky white beard that reached his knees, he tinkered with deliberate confidence, making him look like the one in charge. In sharp contrast, his understudy appeared to be an egg-shaped creature, only a few feet in height and wearing denim overalls over a coat of short, stripy brown fur. While his body featured only stubby, underdeveloped limbs, the four-fingered wings that extended from his back offered the reach and dexterity his actual arms lacked. Ruddy brown eyes with no whites peered out from his neckless, noseless head, absorbing every motion made by the hands of the older engineer.

Perhaps fortunately, they were so fixated on the task at hand that they had yet to notice the Witch. The same could not be said, however, for the third person nearby. Though shaped and dressed like a girl of around fifteen years, with a spiky ponytail of lavender hair and big orange eyes, the bevy of artificial materials clearly visible in her construction -particularly her limbs- outed her as an automaton. She lounged against the railing just outside of the research station, tapping away at a handheld device until movement caught her eyes.

"Oh, hi!" The robot girl lowered her phone as her sensors adjusted. "Poppi not seen you before. You new? Well, welcome to Avenger. Poppi is Poppi. What your name?"

The Witch regarded the animate creature as one might observe a particularly interesting rock. “Nobody ever really cared what my name was,” she said slowly, “so I didn’t see a point in remembering it. And I won’t remember yours, either.” She walked past the chirping automaton like it wasn’t even there, and approached close enough to the bearded engineer that he’d have no choice but to acknowledge her.

“Take a look. You should be able to tell what I am, yes?” She gazed down upon him coldly, with one narrow black eyebrow slightly raised. “That’ll do for introductions. Next, you’re going to tell me all about this place and how it works.”
Anne Mayer
Nieve — Suspicious Shop

Even for a princess, it seemed a little overkill to send a trio of otherworldly warriors to go and collect her shopping. Did she not trust her own servants with the task? Anne supposed it could be a test, a way of verifying the new hires were reliable—or maybe Serena just wanted to get back at Remi by bossing her around a bit. Either way, the Knight had little choice but to accept the proffered letter and the work that came with it.

After a brief request for directions and a polite assurance of their success, the royal's three newest minions left the Guild behind and hit the streets. Anne had planned on asking some of the locals if they'd seen a golem wandering around, but it turned out she was in luck: Lewa found them practically the moment they walked out the door. She wasted no time in hurrying over to greet him, and gladly took the silent girl off his hands.

"Thanks for keeping her safe. Were you able to find anything out?"

They took their time filling each other in as they walked, and by the time they neared the shop everyone was just about caught up with what the others had been up to. That still left a few unaccounted for, but Anne trusted they could take care of themselves... The girl was the one who needed protecting right now. That she was afflicted by mental illness didn't surprise the Knight, but the revelation of her Fae nature only made things more confusing.

"Is that right?" She looked down at the child, raising an eyebrow. "You're a Fae? Fairy? Fair folk?" She didn't look anything like the fairies Anne knew, but the Gensokyo group had mentioned a race of the same name. Given its roots in old legends, the word was probably used to describe numerous subspecies across the various worlds. "So where are you from...?" she murmured, still speaking to the girl but not truly expecting an answer. Once again, she'd have to dig up the truth herself.

In her distraction, she barely noticed that they'd reached their goal until Remilia spoke up. The Knight blinked, and squinted at the empty windows through her glasses. "Maybe the Princess got the hours wrong..." Even as she said it, she knew that wouldn't be the case. She had a bad feeling, and when Remilia caught the scent of blood Anne muttered a quiet command to her DC coat. Shimmering hexagons briefly glittered in the air as its barrier extended to wrap around the child as well, a direct layer of protection should anything nearby seek to do her harm.

"If it was an accident, someone should have noticed by now." She carefully stepped through the door and glanced around, visibly reluctant to take the lead so long as the golden-haired girl was still in her care. "Ugh... This already reeks of a trap."

@VitaVitaAR@Lugubrious@Rezod92
Witch

Level 2 (1/20 EXP)
Location: Meridi-at-Han
Word Count: 979 (2 exp gained)


With her eyes still fixed on her prey, the Witch failed to notice the shadow slipping up behind her until just a moment too late. A glimpse of movement, the abrupt and shocking sensation of fingers tapping against her back—instinctively the sorceress spun on her heel, ready to cast her fiery wrath upon this new assailant, to burn anyone who dared to try and cross her.

This shouldn’t have been possible. Her energy shield should have stopped any attack before it could reach her. Except this hadn’t been an attack, and already she could feel its strange nature working through the whole of her physical form. Every itch was wiped away, every pulled muscle eased, and when the healing tide finally reached the labyrinthine channels of her twisted mind she found herself instantaneously and wholly overwhelmed by it. The fierce light in her eyes winked out, and she dropped to her knees, clutching with both hands at her fragile, throbbing skull.

Could Primrose have known what she’d done? Unlikely: most beings hardly needed more than a few tweaks to fit in with Galeem’s new world, a veil laid over their awareness to filter out any hint of incongruity. Wild though she was, the Witch should have been no different, but for one wrinkle—her memories held knowledge that could threaten even a god, secrets dire enough to bring entire timelines to ruin. Merely altering her perceptions wouldn't have been enough: almost the entirely of her recollections had been shattered in the remaking of the world.

It took only a single breath for it to be undone, for all the countless horrors she'd witnessed to come flooding back into her awareness.The Decay. The Tangle. The Cleansing Fire. Severed fragments of memory abruptly snapped back together into a bloodcurdling, paradoxical whole, and in a heartbeat she knew with crystalline clarity what she was, what she always had been.

Murderer. Champion. Devourer of gods.

Her trembling hands dropped to her sides, and a low chuckle wormed its way out through the draping curtains of her hair. This lightbringer, this all-powerful fool, it thought itself untouchable? It should never have left her alive. She was the girl who’d slaughtered her way across a cursed continent and laid low the ghosts of empires past. She was the witch who’d killed an entire pantheon’s worth of so-called deities just to settle a grudge. She was the traveler who’d ventured deep into the Atlas of Worlds, and found its countless realms yet unequal to the scope of her ambition.

Now, unleashed once more, she'd be the one to murder this latest jumped-up demiurge and bring its whole wretched creation to an end.

…Of course, grand declarations aside, the Witch was far from the unstoppable force she’d been feared as once upon a time. When she shakily rose to her feet again, she did so not as a conqueror of dimensions, but as a sickly-pale and waiflike young woman with only a few scant slivers of power and a handful of enchanted gemstones to her name. She looked back towards Grimm and blinked in surprise, first at the fresh baby bug that had somehow popped into existence at his side and second at the impossibility that he should call her a friend. Hardly anybody claimed such closeness to her, let alone a freshly burned foe. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended by it.

“It’s not the ugliest child I’ve ever seen. Really though, all that trouble just for one little grub?” She squinted at the hovering child, mildly curious as to its nature but too exhausted to bother investigating further. Her smile had vanished, leaving her face a mask of imperious detachment—but a faint wickedness still gleamed in the depths of her stare. “…And to think that it had to end just before the best part. Next time you’d better not leave me feeling so unsatisfied.”

Speaking of ‘stopped,’ her head twitched upward to sneer at the oversized spoilsport who thought he could chide her. “I’ll take a good bonfire over a lousy old market any day,” she snapped back at him, before his next words stopped her dead in her tracks.

Gleaming. Of course. It hadn’t been mere coincidence that her memories had returned at that moment—this group, all the members of the crowd who’d seemed a bit out of place, they’d known the truth from the beginning. Her eyes roved over the rest of them, taking each in a new light: the plain-looking fellow who’d ruined her fun by going after Grimm, an older man who’d yet to do anything of importance whatsoever, and lastly some tall strumpet in a fancy dress, who must have been the one to free the Witch just now. I suppose I ought to feel grateful… But I don’t, really. In fact, she didn’t like any of them very much at all.

Still too interesting not to stalk, though. Even in the good old days, the Witch hadn’t risen to power without some help from a few naïve saps who’d believed her the lesser of many evils. Not too long after Grimm came into sight, the Witch caught up with the ragtag crew as well, now accompanied by a pair of freshly raised zombie servants. That big monster rampage had left plenty of dead bodies lying around, and it seemed a shame to let good material go to waste.

With a fresh spring in her step, she slipped in right by Goldlewis’ side, perhaps a little too close for comfort. “Nothing left, you say? Oh yes, do tell me more.” Beside that giant of a man she looked smaller than ever, almost a child in comparison, but the look of eerie fascination in her eyes could have made even a titan shudder. Just whom—or what—had the Seekers now invited into their midst?
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