Lugubrious

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

When menaced by the pit-faced prison guards, their clear inhumanity and heavy black batons unnervingly suggestive of the wanton violence they threatened, the average tormented university-goer fell in line. Nobody, after the veritable electrocution that was the shock of finding oneself thrust into this urban netherworld, wanted to risk a savage beatdown courtesy of these freaky things’ truncheons--or so Barney thought.

While he and the others wilted under the guards’ eyeless gaze, silently cooperating in the hopes of keeping those fracture-inducing weapons at their sides, Vincent took action. A singular idea had possessed him: that falling into the hands of this place’s security meant death, and any chance for survival, no matter how risky or slight, was worth taking. A few guards close by had their attention on physically motivating Mila and Jin, who’d recovered less well than the others from the ordeal so far. Grunting “Get your asses in gear!” the nearest shoved the poor redhead into Jin hard enough to send both sprawling. It was then that Vincent threw himself into the guard, capsizing not just the aggressor but his closest compatriot as well, who took an unlucky blow from the fallen guard’s flailing arm. As they went to join the others on the ground, the criminal made a break for it.

Even as his subordinates struggled to get up, the captain moved quickly after the runner. “HEY!” Vincent took off with every ounce of speed his legs could muster, so fixated on his goal of the open guardhouse gate that he didn’t see the guard’s arm in motion. Instead he could feel the air pressure against his hair as the baton came down in a leaping overhead smash, narrowly missing both Vincent’s shoulder and leg. Not even a second later it struck the surface of the dock behind him, strong enough to crack the ground. Fragments flew amidst the big pink splash, but the criminal sped away, the adrenaline pumping through his veins from the near miss lending wings to his feet.

As he pulled away from the cluster of guards and students, however, Vincent became acutely aware of a single fact, one no less damning for its simplicity. The great yellow searchlight atop the courthouse, the eye whose eerily animal likeness could make one’s skin crawl, swiveled to follow him. No matter where he went, he would be bathed in its lambent flood. Suddenly, the feasibility of an already unlikely escape had dropped to rock bottom, but the beacon’s glare was hardly the extent of his worries. Behind him, the guard captain pulled his arm back with his baton held tight, and only after a moment did Barney realize that the fearsome sentry meant to throw it. A sudden, irrational urge flared in Barney’s mind, telling him to tackle the guard and give the runner a chance, but he couldn’t do it. His logic and instincts for self-preservation would not allow it. And though a million things told him he’d made the right decision, he still felt ashamed.

The next second the captain hurled his baton like someone throwing a stick for a dog. It sailed through the air and struck Vincent in his right tricep. Though it amounted to just a glancing blow, and neither broke bones nor prevented him running, it sent enough pain through his arm to make the impact with the dock feel like a stubbed toe. Wounded but tough enough to continue on, Vincent staggered for only a moment, and as he resumed his flight the guard captain straightened. “Hmph! He won’t get far.” Though lacking a face to sneer with, he conveyed the expression well enough with his voice alone. Barney could exactly see with the sentry’s back turned, but he thought he saw the guard reach to his chest and make a pulling motion. When he withdrew his hand, a liquid, shadowy mass formed into the shape of a new baton. Dumbfounded, Barney watched as the guard used the weapon to point at the fleeing criminal’s back, just before he passed through the gate between dock and prison. “What are you morons doing? After him!” With angry noises of affirmation, the two guards Vincent knocked over raced in his direction.

Then, the captain turned toward the rest of his captives, their progress halted by the unexpected escape attempt. No emotion could be gleaned from staring into his yawning pit, but his anger could be tangibly felt, and Barney knew in that instant that he and the rest were about to suffer the consequences of Vincent’s defiance. “Looks like your friend made the wrong choice,” the guardsman drawled. “Can’t have you gettin’ any ideas now, huh? Boys, hobble ‘em.”

Panic seized hold of Barney, but before he could even fight back the nearest guard lunged for him. The dark sentry grabbed him in a choke hold, the pit of its face so close that the bearded man could feel the warm humidity welling up from within. As struggled against a grip much stronger than it should be, the captain approached and with a swing of his baton struck Barney right on the bridge of the fit. “Augh! Gah!” Barney cried, any fight taken out of him. Though he couldn’t tell if it was broken, just setting it down hurt plenty, and that was enough for him. When the captain raised his arm again he pleaded, “Please, no! I won’t run, I swear!” The guard gave a stiff nod and moved on to the next person, held in place by his next crony. With teeth clenched both from pain and anger, as much at his own pathetic simpering as the cruel guardsmen, he watched the same fate befall the seven others, even the little girl. He silently begged the others to not fight back; if anyone tried to kick or bite, they’d surely receive as many blows as it took to beat them into submission, and probably a couple more after that. Once the captives’ collective ability to run had been hobbled, it was time to march.

The guards forced their newest prisoners to limp down the dock and into the prison. From there it was only a short walk to the courthouse, not even two minutes, but it was time enough for Barney to witness exactly what was going on inside the prison yards--the ground-level view denied to him by the walls along the shoreline. The sight filled him with such horror that it chilled him to the bone, and half-remembered words sprang, unbidden, into his mind. Your situation is not an enviable one, they whispered. I couldn’t blame you if you called it Hell

The prison yards were alive with convicts. Clapped in chains between their huge metal collars beneath iron helmets with human faces, and wearing striped uniforms in the distinctive white, black, and blue of Barclay Waterfront University, they were herded like livestock along the yards’ gravel paths by guards brandishing buzzing cattle prods. The sentries oversaw the endless procession going in and out of various pens, where the inmates sat in rows of desks. Once seated, pipes affixed to their helmets, and as a glowing yellowish fluid pumped into the back, what appeared to be money got vacuumed out through the mouth. Perhaps worst of all, the scene was silent except for the shuffle of feet, the clanking of chains, and the whir of the machines. Nobody wept or screamed. It was a grim march of inhumane utilization, one that made Barney’s early usage of the word ‘nightmare’ seem laughably, painfully premature. After only a few moments he averted his gaze, unable to stomach it. His eyes drifted to the searchlight, still locked onto Vincent as guards corralled him between the pens. His hopes that he might find refuge in the prison grounds had been in vain, and Barney didn’t want to see what became of him, either. Luckily, it didn’t take long to reach the courthouse.

Once the new arrivals were inside, the grand double doors shut with a massive slam, sealing the scene of barbarism outside. Barney forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to keep the gasping to a minimum as he fought to calm himself down. “This isn’t real,” he murmured once more. “It isn’t real. I’ll wake up any minute now, moan a little, and go to work…” As he labored to control himself, however, he couldn’t help but be distracted. If not what he’d just witnessed, in fact, he might have been stricken by admiration. The courthouse’s grand foyer made for an awesome spectacle, its rich red carpets and tapestries striking among marble-white pillars, arches, fancy railings, and curved stairways. In some ways it reminded Barney of a posh theater house more than a court of law, but the enormous, classical statues that littered the place, all glaring down imperiously with their swords and shields and scales at the ready, helped reaffirm the place’s identity. Here and there he spotted more security on patrol, the molded white decoration on their uniforms elevating them above the ordinary guards outside. After fanning out to make sure they had their guests surrounded, the arrival’s escort settled in to wait.

They did not wait long. Barney, kept alert and fidgeting by the lingering pain and his raw nerves, became aware of an intermittent tapping that grew steadily louder. By the time the source appeared, all eyes were on the left-hand staircase that swept down to the ground floor straight ahead, and everyone beheld him at once. It was a man, middle-aged, with brown hair starting to thin and gray, and a stocky frame. Gilded glasses over flinty eyes were sandwiched between broad shoulders and cheeks hardened by scowling wrinkles, and he sported a bushy but well-kept goatee. On closer inspection, the right lens of his glasses was dark, and its frame fanciful to the point of looking like a half-mask. He wore the tie, collar, and flowing black robes of a judge, but his attire aside, he seemed to Barney somewhat familiar. In fact, he looked like the spitting image of one Myron Pondwater, president of Barclay Waterfront University, if not for a few unusual traits. His long robes trailed behind him and seemed to curl upward toward the end, turning wispy, and they seemed to move of their own accord. In one hand he managed an oversized judge’s gavel, bigger even than a croquet mallet, whose head he held to use the tool like a cane. And his eye. Though Barney couldn’t say what color they ought to be, the one visible eye that sized up the young people before him was a shade of luminescent yellow that at this point felt disquietingly familiar.

He came to a stop and placed the butt of the gavel in front of him, with both hands rested upon it. “So, these are the folks who’ve thrown my prison into a fine state of uproar.” With a look of disdain he narrowed his eyes. “On closer inspection, they seem quite ordinary, although certainly not of my stock.”

The guard captain nodded. “Yes sir, we captured them before they could cause any trouble. Only one got away from us.”

“Not from me,” Pondwater corrected him. “He was detained moments ago by the pens and will be with us shortly, although with the state of his jaw he may not feel very talkative.” His gaze never left his guests, which meant that everyone could see his expression of mild amusement, the look of one in complete and utter control. Barney shivered, and Pondwater continued. “You all, however, seem quite capable, and I do have a few, simple questions. So let’s consider this the beginning of an impromptu trial. If we can treat one another fairly, we can come to an understanding, correct? So, who are you? How did you get into my prison, and for what purpose?”

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Barney Rynsburger

"Ambulance?" Barney distracted himself from his search for a moment to take out his phone. In a frustrating turn it looked like he had no signal. He shot Nick an apologetic look, worried about the other guy's agitation but unable to do anything about it. He wasn't equipped to help other people out with their panick attacks; for now he had his own problems to worry about.

No matter how hard Barney looked, of course, there appeared to be no way out. As the seconds ticked by his heart rate slowed, since despite these extraordinary circumstances, no further revelations presented themselves. The others, disoriented both by their collective fall and their phantasmagorical surroundings, also labored to collect themselves, and though the ghastly prison loomed in front of him, neither personnel nor tower spotlights came his way. As his initial panic subsided, and Barney worked to steady his breathing, he watched the massive arcs of city parts lazily arcing over the orange-hued cityscape beneath a smoky sky and a distant, dusky horizon. He even began to feel a sense of calm--a tranquility borne of the realization and subsequent certainty that none of this could possibly be real.

Well, duh, Barney sighed, rubbing at his eyes. In every dream there came a point where the suspension of disbelief shattered, and one gained awareness that one was, in fact, asleep. Finding out this soon put him ahead of the curve, in fact, although he still felt quite idiotic. Unfortunately the discovery didn’t grant him any semblance of control, but it did take the weight off his shoulders. At that point, though Barney stood just a few feet away from a roiling phantom sea of tar and in front of a massive, villainous-looking prison in a burning city, his train of thought turned to practical concerns. “This is just some...stress-fueled delusion,” he reasoned aloud. “Maybe the cafeteria food made me hallucinate. Hah.” A wry chuckle escaped him, though he wasn’t totally joking. “I guess its fine if I’m just conked out somewhere, but I really can’t miss work. Just gotta find some way to jolt myself awake.” His eyes shifted between the other students, and the elements of his surreal scenery. Other people he’d seen around the school being in his dream perturbed him not at all, although he did spend a moment wondering exactly when he’d gone under. Back in the student center, maybe? Details notwithstanding, he needed to wake up. “How’d they do it in Inception…?”

His gaze naturally fell back on the oily ocean-substitute, their fascinatingly transient and suggestive colors and shapes all too irresistible for a wandering attention. A lightbulb went off over Barney’s head, and he snapped his fingers. “Falling! That’s right, okay…” Ignoring the others, he jogged over to the edge of the dock and tensed his muscles to leap in.

Instead, he froze solid. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to go no further. Suddenly wary, he stared down again into the oil’s fluctuating surface. It was dazzling, enchanting even, and by his logic a leap into it would give him the escape he longed for, but at the same time he could not deny that there was something terrifying about it. Some raw, primal aspect to the stuff made him suddenly unsure of his plan, and after a moment he stepped back from the ledge.

Although annoyed by the failure of his plan, Barney couldn’t help but feel it was for the better, somehow. It wasn’t often that self-preservation instincts kicked in like that, and even in a dream, there were some things that just weren’t smart to mess with. Dreams were the product of one’s own mind, after all, and pain could be easily imagined.

Of course, that left him right back at his original question, the same one that troubled him before all this foolishness got started. Where do I go from here? He had to wake up some way or another. Barney regarded the prison once more, noting its tall buildings and the precipitous walls. Even the guardhouse at the base of the dock fit the bill. Might as well, he figured, give it a shot.

With a deep breath, he started off in the direction of the guardhouse, but he could not avoid glancing at the others as he stepped by them, and the sight of them gave him pause. Some, lacking his constitution, looked pretty hurt by the fall. It even seemed to shock the older guy into a different, much more intimidatingly gravelly voice. He knew this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, but still. While the area defied belief, the other people looked so uncannily normal. Barney knew he couldn’t possibly have looked at any of these people, even Mila or Harriette, enough to accurately recreate them. And was he really creative enough to conjure up all these details? Barney shook the questions from his head. How could he possibly look at that prison, that sea, and second-guess what all this was?

After a moment he managed to focus, and return his attention to the task at hand. Yet the next second he got distracted again anyway, this time by the courthouse. For a little while it just sank into the backdrop, as fantastical as the rest of it, but now Barney’s eyes fell on the gigantic beacon beneath its dome. Its light was turning his way, toward the dock. And though he should have known better than to think twice about it, he couldn’t suppress a sudden surge of disquiet. On impulse he broke out into a jog, but his action came far too late. A second later the spotlight hit the dock and stopped in its tracks, the humans from Barclay Waterfront University awash in its golden light. Likewise Barney froze, a deer in the headlights, as in the center of the beacon a black bar, like a horizontal slitted pupil, expanded.

Then the alarms blared forth. A multitude of unseen klaxons started up a shrieking wail, hideously animal-like in nature. The prison filled with spinning lights, and multiple guard towers swiveled their own beacons to join that of the courthouse, fixated on the dock. A few moments passed before the guard house burst open, discharging a squad of frenzied prison guards. Barney could only watch, horrified, as they raced down the docks with batons in hand. “Stop right where you are!” the biggest one hollered. “Put your hands in the air!”

Barney obeyed immediately and without question. He moved by instinct; in his terror, all his self-assurances of this being a dream no longer mattered. That he did nothing wrong did not matter, either. He just needed to cooperate, not present a threat or problem of any kind, and it would be okay. That was what he’d been taught. As the guards fanned out around their targets, though, Barney couldn’t help but sneak a look at the main one, and what he saw puzzled him. At a quick glance it appeared to be an ordinary security guard, with black pants, a white collared shirt, a dark body armor vest, and a wide-brimmed hat, kind of like a drill sergeant’s. But there was something off. He spotted no trace of skin, only what must be a pitch-black bodysuit where it should be, and toward the extremities he was baffled to find angular patterns of color that shifted, kaleidoscopic, across the guards’ limbs. Most striking, however, were their faces. The black suits extended up there, suggesting a ski mask, but instead of an eyehole he could see only a pit that sank into the head, with only blackness within.

“Hmm?” The captain stepped forward, fixing his pit on one person after another. “You aren’t inmates! His Honor will want to see this.” As the other guards brandished their batons, those menacingly inhuman heads watching like hawks, the captain pointed toward the courthouse. “Now, march! Run for it and we’ll drag you there with broken legs!”

Completely overwhelmed, Barney could do nothing but follow along. As a guard pushed him he began to walk, wondering just what kind of nightmare he’d brought upon himself.

World of Light

Team Mao

Location: Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Mao’s @Potemking, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Joker, Fox, Necronomicon, Braum

Both Mao and the Dragonborn readied themselves for the showdown, but naturally the demon had anything in mind but a fair fight. As he readied his fist his foe couched his sword in a ready position, one ambiguous enough to lead into either a slash or thrust as necessary. Given his worse condition the Dragonborn would need to end this fast, ideally in a single stroke, and if Mao could capitalize on that desperation, he could pull off phase two of his plan. Both warriors drew closer, moving with purpose if not swiftness, until they reached the invisible line in the sand. Then, as if fired from cannons, they sprang forward with their weapons of choice ready for the finishing blow.

Pumping adrenaline threw that moment into slow motion, making the crucial second last. For that moment, however, the Dragonborn’s victory looked assured. His sword, gleaming in the light of the suspended colosseum, extended forward in a deadly simple thrust, its length plus his greater reach all but guaranteeing that a lethal stab to Mao’s center of mass would connect before his fist. Unless, of course, the Overlord stopped short. Rather than carry forward Mao ground to a halt and punched the empty air. When fully extended his clenched knuckles discharged the arcane power built up within, and like a bundle of fireworks the magic hurtled across the few feet that remained between demon and human. Then the explosive detonated against the Dragonborn’s chest, and the rest was history.

But Mao wasn’t done. With time proceeding normally once more, he dove into the ensuing blast with a friend heart in hand, and as the smoke cleared it revealed a Dragonborn in perfect condition once again. Beneath his helmet the Nord was totally stunned, but without any trace of injury, fatigue, or inner turmoil, he felt oddly calm. He blinked at the little Overlord in front of him as Mao’s mechanical arms came back to life. Somehow, the lad had fully restored him. “Well, blow me down!” he exclaimed with gusto, reaching up a hand to adjust his helmet. As he did Mao could see the walrus mustache beneath. “That’s a potent magic, and no mistake! I’m remembering...everything…” His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not my enemy, after all! That blue wench was controlling me!” Sword in hand, the Dragonborn stood. “By the Divines, I’ll strike her down, or I'm not Gunnar Flagon-pile!”

While they got acquainted, Jesse took her chance to get more up close and personal with Mordecai. A cunning move on her part took him totally by surprise as she ran from the pillar, galvanizing the sniper into action. Judging by her attacks earlier it would take him more time to bring the barrel of his rifle around for a shot than it would take her to throw something at him, and his fears soon proved spot-on. Jesse yanked some material from the re-collided column behind her to fling at him, and though he evaded it easily enough, her next attacks proved a little more devious. His sharp eyes brought Jesse’s recycled projectile to his attention, but he still only moved in time to turn a debilitating leg break into a glancing blow that hurt the moment he put weight on it. In desperation he blasted off a shot in Jesse’s direction, hoping it would give her pause, but it sure didn’t stop her dropping a piece of ceiling, and this time he didn’t get off scot-free. The telekinetically-propelled piece of caging came down on his legs as he tried to roll away, and with a grunt of pain he hit the deck. “Bloodwing!”

With a shriek his bird attacked Jesse. Its talons shot for her eyes, and if not for her Health it might have gouged them right out, but instead those fearsome claws glanced off the barrier. It tried to speed away, but the impact slowed it enough that the FBC director could get off a clean shot with her Tool Gun. Only a slight imbalance in its body structure was enough to send it spiralling to the floor. Of course, any sense of victory would have to wait, as a sniper bullet then slammed into the Health around her head. Without actually damaging the Bloodwing she hadn’t topped up her barrier, putting her in a risky position. Though if he couldn’t reposition, Mordecai could still shoot her after twisting onto his side, and even if Galeem’s influence didn’t compel him to keep fighting, the attack on his beloved Bloodwing would. Another decision lay before her--should she run for cover, or take advantage of Mordecai’s injury to remove the threat for good?

At the other end of the battlefield, a very angry Midna rushed to prevent the sudden death in store for Reinhardt and Sven. Infusing her hair hand with draconic power, she dealt the future knight the biggest slap he’d ever seen. Despite his formidable size and even stronger, heavier armor, Midna managed to bodily smack him out of harm’s way. He didn’t lose his footing, but having just used his Charge he was too far away to do anything but start stomping back over. Sven, meanwhile, was low enough to the ground that he noticed the telltale purple circle expanding below him, but Midna’s Twilight Vibrava definitely sped him on his way. Ciella’s rain of arrows fell upon nothing but metal and sand, melting from lethal bolts into ordinary water a moment after they hit the ground.

Ciella threw Midna a despairing look, assuming the save to be an accidental fit of incompetence on the imp’s part. The princess’s shout, however, said otherwise, and Ciella’s disdainful annoyance turned to an incredulous anger. “Careful, little one,” she warned the imp. “I will not tolerate those who deceive themselves.” With that she flew forward, headed for the center of the arena, leaving Reinhardt and Sven both behind and far apart.

Long before Ciella reached it, the colosseum’s middle was a hotspot of activity. Joker and Fox stood along before a veritable firing squad of Vandals, with Nastasia sitting smugly right in the middle, gloating over her new conquest. As bad as Joker wanted to plug her with another snap headshot from his revolver, he knew her overshield would save her, while he and Fox stood no chance against the retaliatory fire from her goons. Now, Joker thought, would be a great time for a few random projectiles from Sectonia to throw the enemies into disarray, if not for that explosion a few moments ago that told him no help would be forthcoming. As the flare from the incendiary grenades cleared, however, revealed a Sectonia outwardly charred but still very much alive.

Shadow’s eye twitched as she boasted about it. Not in the mood for any more annoying magic or banter, he threw himself at her head in a heavy Spin Attack, only for the attack to fail to connect. “Huh?”

Down below, Sectonia blinked around Nastasia before making her move. Her blade, fast and perfectly aimed, flashed toward her head in a killer slice meant to bring the whole conflict to an end in a single stroke. It bounced harmlessly off Nastasia’s overshield, leaving just a few cracks and prompting a coolly amused look upward as the little lady adjusted her glasses. “Uh-huh, alright. Gentlemen?”

The barrels of a dozen rifles trained on Sectonia all at once, but that wasn’t all. “Forgetting someone?” Shadow teleported behind the bug and grabbed her by the neck. “Nothing personal!” He then propelled himself downward, taking Sectonia with him, and smashed her to the ground in a giant chokeslam. He flew out of the way as the Vandals opened fire. Though brutal, the aliens’ bombardment lasted only a few seconds, as Joker and Fox took advantage of the distraction to race around the fallen insect.

With a deep breath Fox called upon his Persona. "Goemon!"

Ice swept through the ranks of the Fallen, chilling them as Joker got into position in front of Sectonia. He couldn’t waste this opportunity. “It’s showtime!” He span low to the ground, launching a pressure wave that staggered his enemies, before powerfully launching into the air. Joker put a hand to his face as his mask turned to blue flame, and with a flourish his original Persona appeared. “Arsene!” The well-dressed specter unfurled his wings and spread wide his hands, a crimson power building in the center of the enemy force. “Here!”

A dome of accursed power blasted the Vandals apart, scattering them. Just Nastasia remained there, knocked down by the force. Fox sprinted toward her with his katana unsheathed, ready to make mincemeat of what remained of Nastasia’s overshield and finish her off, but his swing clanged off the giant shield of a brainwashed Braum. As the huge man swung at him Fox leaped back, hesitant, and in that moment a booming voice reached him.

“The time has come,” Ciella called from on high, addressing everyone in the arena, from Mao and the Dragonborn to Jesse and Mordecai to Midna, Reinhardt, and Sven to all those in the center. “For the stains of hypocrisy to be washed away! May those who stand by me recognize what came before and save themselves! Cryogenic Meteor!”

From her position above the center of the arena the Agito threw down a giant mass of ice, forcing those beneath her to scatter. Its impact both shook the colosseum and prompted some sort of reaction from the Feral Shroud that encased it. A wall of water frothed in a ring around the fighting area, like an omnidirectional tsunami somehow held in place. The entire floor suddenly glowed purple, with what looked like enormous arrows pointing to the left side of the arena.

“This is a classic!” Necronomicon exclaimed suddenly. “Since Futaba and I are one in the same, I’ve got all her secrets. Everyone on our side needs to get on the left side of that ice mountain, right now! Here: speed up!”

As Necronomicon cast a party-wide Masukukaja to help her allies on their way, Ciella stretched her arms wide, her eyes alight with madness, and sang out, “Floor of Despaaaaaair!”

The water on the right side of the arena surged forth, sweeping leftward in an inexorable tsunami. Barely a moment later the purple glow reappeared, with arrows pointing upward, toward where the Resistance started. Both waves wreaked havoc on everything in their path--save the iceberg planted square in its middle, and anyone hiding behind it.

Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

Level 9 Tora (50/90) Level 8 Poppi (130/80) Level 4 Big Band (8/40)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s @Yankee, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Yoshitsune and Sora’s @Rockin Strings
Word Count: 1609 and 1235

As Tora sparred with Beast he kept one eye on Poppi, and what he saw helped him realize just how fortunate they’d been to run into that steely spectre in the ruins above the shady oasis. His companion drove the point of the claymore she’d received from her fusion into Dante’s back, eliciting a furious howl of pain, before the weight of her new armor carried both back down to the dungeon floor. They landed with a crash so tremendous that the brief duel between Tora and Beast came to a momentary stop, but while it was awe and apprehension that gave the dwarf pause, no such feelings stayed Tora’s shield. This demon killer was one tough customer. Even after Poppi landed such a brutal attack, her Masterpon knew better than to assume victory.

His suspicions proved well. Before the dust even cleared, the man still face-down on the ground bent his arm back with Revenant in hand, and only thanks to a quick jerk sideways from Poppi did his blind shotgun blast not eviscerate Poppi’s face. As he wrenched himself free from the ground, still impaled by the claymore, Tora could see a white power building around him. That couldn’t be good. As Beast turned back to swing at him, the Nopon hammered every button his Drill Shield had to both extend its giant bit and fire its thrusters. He blasted onto the unprepared dwarf, drilling into Beast’s chest for the split second before he deflected the bit with his hammer’s shaft, then carried forward the momentum as he cruised toward Dante and Poppi. Sensing the same thing Tora did, Poppi readied herself as well, summoning her claymore to hand in a defensive position.

Their efforts came to naught. Dante unleashed a burst of demonic energy across the dungeon, turning the area monochromatic and flooding it with white light. Try as he might, Tora could barely move. Time itself had slowed to a crawl. A look of mild alarm appeared on Poppi’s face as she realized she could not defend herself, and the next moment Dante reached her. In the haze his hair shone white and his coat red, and among the black veins on his face he wore a smug smile. “Game over.”

With that he started his assault. He swapped between weapons and firearms in a blistering, non-stop string of free damage, mitigated only by Poppi’s armor and, if it happened to get in the way, her sword. Tora grit his teeth, and even though it felt like pushing through molasses, forged onward. This guy’s sheer cockiness was staggering. First he hurled insults while not fighting seriously, and now he ignored Tora while stomping all over his precious companion while she couldn’t even fight back. He probably assumed that Tora was nothing without her. With every second that passed Dante cut and pierced deeper and deeper into Poppi’s chassis, and though she wore a brave face Tora knew all too well just how agonizing it must be. More than any enemy faced so far, this guy pissed Tora off. He was going to pay. He was going to pay!

The demon killer brought Poppi back to the floor with a Helm Breaker from Rebellion, then caused a ground bounce with a two-handed smash from Eryx. As the artificial blade popped upward, his Devil Trigger came to an end, and Dante made sure his victim got a good look at his face while he changed the fists out for the demonic axe, Arbiter. “Nighty night. Now get…” He brought the axe behind him for a killer overhead cleave. “Fu-!”

“MEH!” A sudden weight against the axeblade forced the weapon downward. That same impact bent Dante backwards at an awkward angle, like he was doing the Limbo. When he craned his neck backward, confused, he discovered Tora on top of his shield, having used his copious weight to drive it, and by extension the axe below it, into the ground, where it got stuck thanks to all the spikes on its axehead’s back. Dante snorted in derision, shaking his head. It was a valiant and clever but ultimately useless move, one that bought the Nopon only a second of time and disarmed him in the process. The demon killer opened his mouth to make sure Tora knew just how screwed he was, which made it all the bloodier when a wrench smashed into his teeth the next instant.

“Guh!” Dante roared, spraying blood as he transformed Arbiter to strike back. Keeping cool, Tora hopped from his shield to sit on his enemy’s chest. The sudden weight flattened Dante against the ground, and with a cry of righteous anger came around with a backhanded wrench smash into Dante’s jaw.

A wordless groan escaped the fallen devil killer as he went limp, head lolling sideways. As much as a part of Tora wanted to keep bludgeoning, he managed to keep himself in check. It wasn’t something a hero would do. Instead he brought up his other wing, holding a Friend Heart. He looked down at Dante and hesitated, but only just a moment. “This much better than meanypon deserve!”

Before he could bring his wing down, he felt a hand grab it. Taken by surprise, he looked in time to see Beast, but not to stop the petrification that spread across his body, turning the Nopon to stone. The dwarf then unleashed his hammer in a heavy onslaught, batting Tora around like a beach ball until Dante, floored but far from beaten, raised Kablooey to blow Tora away.

A moment later Tora rolled to a stop against the dungeon’s central pillar as the petrification wore off. Beaten up and blurry-eyed, without any clue of what just happened to him, he pushed himself onto his feet with a groan. He held up his wrench as Dante approached, but the demon killer flicked it out of his grasp with the tip of Rebellion’s blade, smirked, and drove it into his head.

“Meeh…” Tora gasped, his eyes squeezed shut, but the swordblade never got the chance to test his hearty constitution. Instead it deflected off an ether barrier, leaving Dante confused until a yell sounded out behind him, drawing both sets of eyes. Beast, who’d gone over to finish off Poppi, crashed to his knees, the laser blade of Poppi QT Pi’s Variable Sabre stabbed clean through his diaphragm.

Poppi stood beside him, her face cold and expressionless, her bright orange eyes on Dante. As he watched she removed the saber by carving out sideways, leaving the dwarf nearly bifurcated to dissolve. The form change had reconstructed her wounds, and she was in practically perfect shape. Her eyes remained on the demon killer the whole time, unblinking, as she brought the humming weapon to her side. “Dead man not lay another finger on Masterpon,” she told him, then rocketed forward in a burst of speed. With a growl Dante activated his Devil Trigger once more and hurtled toward her with a Stinger. This time, however, Poppi had already internalized his move. At just the right moment she turned upside down, then executed a backflip to extend one leg straight into his head for a dizzying kick. Their blades clashed in a storm of plasma and silver, Poppi’s sheer speed and Dante’s wounds nearly equalizing the pace of battle despite Devil Trigger.

The furious duel ended a moment later with a sweep that slid Dante backward, knocking him out of Devil Trigger, and like lightning Dante switched to Aquila and hurled both blades forward to keep Poppi occupied. He then brought out Kablooey, but scarcely did he bring the demonic grenade launcher out before Tora hit him from behind. The Nopon threw him into Dante belly-first, and as if he’d been struck by an exercise ball the demon killer bounced forward to find that Poppi had managed to deal with Aquila much faster than he expected. As her upward swing launched Dante, Tora called out, “Poppi, it time for secret protocol!”

Whatever that was, Dante wouldn’t be having it. Aquila flew back into his hands and melted across his fists, becoming Eryx. He fell like a meteor to cave in Poppi’s skull, but rather than try to capitalize with a combo Poppi evaded the strike. When Dante looked up at her he found himself staring at the Variable Saber in shotgun formation, and Poppi wasted no time pulling the trigger.

He stumbled backward, tripped over the ever-troublesome Tora, and fell hard. “Releasing final lock,” Poppi declared as she jumped upward, but as she went high Tora went low. With all his strength he swung a two-handed punch right into Dante’s nuts, paralyzing him, and a moment later Poppi plunged her weapon into Dante’s chest, even as his hand came up bearing dual pistols.

The dynamic duo knew what needed to happen. Poppi raised her arm, and after she and Tora cried out “Quantum Judgement!” she began to spin at high speed. The artificial blade became a jet-propelled, laser-bladed blender, slicing across Dante’s chest again and again, each deeper than the last. Even as demonic bullets pounded her she kept firing, until finally the saber carved into stone, and Ebony and Ivory went quiet.

Poppi slowed to a stop, her cold fury fading. As the halves of the demon killer started to dissolve she sank to the ground on her knees. When Tora waddled up and seated himself beside her, she leaned on him, and he on her. It was over. In a few seconds they would get up to help their allies, but for just a moment now, they could be still.

---

With Es seemingly incapacitated for now, Band turned his attention from his own little corner back toward the other fights littering the front half of the dungeon. Right away he noticed Skull and Panther also on the loose, their own fight apparently wrapped up, and by the lack of draconic bodies around the detective could intuit how that went. The others, however, were still going strong.

Once the Phantom Thieves got out of his hair, Fox alone faced down the twofold threat of Robin and Tharja. The ace pilot’s experience, both with Robin in particular and healers in general, told him that he should target the dark mage first, but he found his efforts in vain. Tharja managed to move in tandem with her partner, staying behind him and only following up when he attacked first, so by the time Fox could either try to reflect or get around her spells Robin would already be on his tail again. Fighting smarter, rather than harder, seemed to be the name of the game. Their unique approach left Fox with no other option but to take the fight to Robin, but even then Tharja’s annoying tendency to follow up his sword swings with the dark wells of her Hex kept him from being able to go toe-to-toe. Still, Fox knew that he only really needed for them to run out of mana, at which point only Robin’s sword would be left to oppose him. He jumped in once more, but rather than try to hit the speedy airborne Fox with a relatively slow-moving spell, the tactician readied his sword. From above the pilot took a shot at Tharja, and while both mages moved to avoid it Fox dove right into their midst. A flurry of strikes assailed Robin, too quick and close for him to effectively counter, try as he might. “Tharja,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now!”

The Dark Mage gave a weary nod. “Rescue!” she droned, her voice utterly without enthusiasm.

Stepped out from behind him, she flourished her stuff, creating a golden magical circle right where Fox and Robin were fighting. There came a flash of light, and a young man with spiky hair and dark clothes appeared right in the path of Fox’s attack. Once struck, the gleaming Sora had no choice but to fight back, even though he wasn’t brainwashed. He summoned a giant key to hand and went on the offensive.

At the same time Yoshitsune fought against the Witch Doctor, although to Band’s eyes it looked more apt to say he fought her summons. The sorceress just kept pumping out minions, her supply of spider-filled jars seemingly limitless, and when their numbers weren’t enough she supplemented the arachnid threat with toads, firebats, grasping hands, and explosive zombies. Already the samurai had been bitten, blown up, barfed on, and manhandled, and even though the individual hits did little, they were starting to add up. Though he didn’t mean to, he was playing the Witch Doctor’s game, and if he didn’t get help or come up with a new strategy, Band could only see him going down under the summoner’s crawling horde.

Less bizarre was the duel between Ezio and Azwel. One fought with a multitude of summoned weapons, floating them around in quick and unpredictable patterns, but the other wielded a small arsenal of his own, and with a lot more pragmatism. Even with the sorcery on Azwel’s side Ezio could apparently keep up with sheer skill, leveraging each sword, hidden blade, smoke bomb, crossbow, and pistol at his disposal. He, too, could use a hand.

Band sighed. This kind of chaos, full of odd characters and odder powers, reminded him strongly of his time at the Anti-Skullgirl Labs. After being gone for so long, it was nice, in a way, to be fighting alongside a team of allies once again, Grimleal notwithstanding. “This sure takes me back.” Of course, he couldn’t spend much time being sentimental, or those new allies of his might not stick around. The Phantom Thieves were hanging back too, trying to figure out where they ought to insert themselves. Band waved his hat at them to get their attention. “Our furry friend needs backup. Give ‘em a hand!” As Skull and Panther nodded and ran to skew the odds in Fox’s favor, he approached the duel between Ezio and Azwel. Yoshitsune would have to hold out for now.

“AAHHAAY!” Band entered the fight with Brass Knuckles that Ezio rolled to avoid. As he dodged he loosed a bolt from his little crossbow, but when its point pierced his trench coat only to ping off the cyborg’s metal body, the assassin grimaced. Even if he could more than hold his own in conventional combat, two capable combatants was a problem, particularly a giant one with armor. Then again, Ezio could neither retreat nor give up, so unless the medieval-looking man was packing some mag in his bag of tricks, Band felt pretty confident.

“Two against one, hmm?” Azwel smirked, rubbing at one of a few new stab wounds. “I daresay some would look at us and call us dishonorable. Alas, history is written by the winners.”

Band huffed, releasing clouds of steam from his pneumatic organs. “Then let’s boogie.”

While that fight got underway, Yoshitsune continued trying to survive against the Witch Doctor’s wretched retinue. Poisoned, burned, and bleeding, he fought in vain as his strength flagged, and Daisy shooting at him didn’t help, either. In the end, however, his patience was rewarded. Heavy running footsteps behind him signalled help on the way, probably from Big Band, and just in time, too. After chugging a mana potion the Witch Doctor summoned another explosive zombie, and with fatigue setting in the samurai didn’t know if he could dodge it. As it bore down on him, an immense shape descended from Yoshitsune’s right, and in a single titanic slam the undead menace turned to paste.

When Yoshitsune sliced through a few spiders and glanced over, however, it wasn’t Band that he found. Instead another titan of a man stood before him, seven inches shorter than the detective but not much less wide. He wore a brown suit, yellow tie, and a pompadour of pale, sandy hair. Just one eye looked back at the samurai through black glasses. “Howdy there,” Goldlewis Dickinson greeted him, hefting his coffin across his shoulder. Yoshitsune might recall him from the commission he undertook earlier in the day. “When I heard all the fuss, I reckoned I oughta come down and see for myself.” With a mighty sweep of his coffin he cleared away a whole swath of creepy crawlies, and as he set it down again it popped open. A long arm of spectral blue extended to deliver an enormous minigun into the Secretary of Defense’s waiting hands. “So this is the Resistance huh? I’ll be. Well, I’m fixin’ t’do my part.”

As Goldlewis squeezed the trigger a fusillade of minigun bullets ripped through the crowd of spiders, toads, and bats, clearing them out in just a couple seconds. Daisy ducked back into cover to avoid the fearful weapon, but the Witch Doctor, who knew not such tools of war, took a handful of rounds. Luckily they didn’t actually seem to do much damage, but they could really wipe out the fodder. Despite his wounds, Yoshitsune had the chance now to deal some damage.

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (86/40)
Location: The Maw - the Depths
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 1112

A guttural bellow of rage shook the Depths as Moreau struggled in vain against his assailants. While he reared up and flopped around in an attempt to swat Blazermate from the sky, the clearly non-functional eyeballs on his back provided a less-than-ideal picture of where she was, but when his torso emerged from his mouth for a peek Bella pelted him with a shot from her tail. If he went for her Blazermate could dive in again to annoy and distract him. He lurched around all the while, forcing Nadia to dig in her nails and clung to his tendril for dear life. For a moment there she lost her footing completely and swung around like a yowling tetherball, with only the last dregs of her already laughable upper body strength in the way of a short and disastrous flight. Through instinct she knew that she could not survive being hurled into the heaping collection of sharp edges and hard surfaces that carpeted the Depths, and that knowledge locked her little fingers in a death grasp. Yet even in such dire straits as these, she started mashing Moreau’s eyeballs again the moment she touched back down. In her peripheral vision she could see her pals on the move. Whether from hunger or excitement, a mad, giddy glee overtook her. She was doing it. It was working!

The sound of her name being called stirred Nadia from her little rampage. She looked over at the central catwalk to see Mirage. In his hand he held the blue magnet half. With a stupid grin he rattled off some line and chucked it at her. If not for her catlike reflexes the tiny thief might not have caught it, but she’d lunged and snatched it out of the air before she knew what she was doing, which also brought her to fresh ‘ground’ on Moreau’s back. As she tried to steady herself on the not-yet-squished eyeballs she stared down at the magnet for a second, then back to Mirage, her expression one of astonishment.

Was that...a pun?

How idiotic -how insanely moronic- did you have to be to see this situation and decide that now was a good time to make a joke?

“Dude! I’m kinda busy right meow!”

The magnet in her hand began to glow, its surface dancing with thin, bright blue arcs. It started pulling on her, strong enough that she needed to devote a whole hand to restraining it. Why or how, Nadia couldn’t imagine, but for the moment she had bigger issues. “Little pest! Get offa me!” Moreau bellowed. Just as she expected the monster had gotten tired of chasing after Blazermate, and now he started up a violent shaking to get rid of the other thorn in his side. It was high time she got a move on. But how? She felt like she could barely walk, let alone jump, and if she somehow survived a fall off the fish freak’s side it would be the easiest thing in the world for Moreau to annihilate her. In panic Nadia glanced back toward Mirage, Geralt, Link, and Sakura. When she spotted the red magnet in Mirage’s hand yet another crazy idea occurred to her. Could that actually work? Experimentally she extended her own magnet toward his, and the pull intensified. This is nuts! she thought. But it might actually work?

Just then two things happened. A shadowy phantom in the shape of Mimi appeared to start rupturing eyeballs like bubble wrap, and Geralt shouted at her about a nail. Nadia blinked, processing the request as fast as she could. “Oh yeah, I saw it just a minute ago!” As Moreau continued to shake she crawled on her hands and knees toward the mutant’s other side, where the little witcher’s metal spike still protruded, but when Moreau became aware of her movement he had an idea of his own. “There you are!” he grumbled, and after leaning one way he started to roll over.

“Crap, crap!” Nadia cried out as she felt herself moving backward faster. No matter how she willed herself to move faster, to get to her feet and run, her feeble body would not respond. She was going to get smushed. She was going to die. As she started slipping her eyes landed on Bowser as he leaped above the monster, bringing her attention in turn to the nail he hammered deeper into Moreau’s back. In the heat of the moment a flash of inspiration hit her, and with the last of her strength she thrust her magnet upward.

The next thing she knew, she was flying. The squealing kitten shot up from the jaws of death, carried by her magnet, and latched onto the nail. For a moment she clung to it, frozen, but even with the agony of the nail Moreau was still rolling. Neither she nor Bowser could stick around. Unable to pull out the nail at this point even if she wanted to, Nadia left it for Bowser to dislodge and turned her magnet on Mirage. Before she knew it she sailed through the air once more, her ears and tail flapping in the wind until she landed right in Mirage’s arms.

Of course, the sudden weight knocked him onto his rear, but both were okay. That ridiculous stunt had saved Nadia’s life. “Purr-fect.” As her chest heaved from exertion she got out a gasping chuckle. “Hahah...I can’t really move…” she rasped, looking between the children as Bella and Peach ran up. “Help a gal out?”

A disgustingly cheerful ding rang out throughout the Depths. The elevator had arrived. Nadia stared as the doors slid open; against all odds, victory was in their grasp. As Moreau rolled back onto his belly, the kids made a break for it. Thanks in part to Sakura’s darts, everyone could see a path to the exit. But the abominable mutant knew it too. “No!” he cried. “Don’t go! Look, look! I’ve been saving this one…”

Rather than chase the fleeing children, he reared up one again, his belly swelling up. A moment later he unleashed his final hurrah. A fountain of noxious acid burst from his twisted maw, soaring as high as the dangling maze of the Depths’ fourth floor before dispersing across the entire area. A caustic deluge fell from on high. Peach popped open her parasol, but it provided only a second or two of relief before the downpour burned straight through it. A single drop left such a painful burn that Nadia knew even a few moments’ exposure would be fatal. If everyone didn’t get either into the elevator or under something, they were toast.

Old Mill

Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy

Albedo returned his new friend’s wave, glad that she’d been making progress in her own way. Given her energy he really hadn’t expected to be outpacing her again, but in all fairness he did have a couple tricks that together basically amounted to cheating. Rare was the platforming challenge, after all, that could take into account someone able to climb sheer walls. Confident that she needed no help, the alchemist returned his attention to his own ascent.

The task at hand was a simple one, hardly challenging, but even given the circumstance of having a precious item stolen from him, Albedo couldn’t say he disliked it. Even for someone like him, it seemed, light exertion mixed with problem solving could be enjoyable. Climb, run, jump, jump again, run, wait, jump, ride, jump, climb, jump, climb, Solar Isotoma. He rose steadily higher through the colossal windmill, surrounded by simple machines in perpetual, rhythmic motion. On the icy mountain Dragonspine that loomed over his home of Mondstadt, the winds gave voice to all manner of song as they blew past its peaks and faces. They whistled, howled, and screamed, sounding sometimes eerily like voices, or wide-ranged musical piping. Here, however, the winds meted out a different tune. Within these walls they sustained a hymn to industry, a song of clever machination that would not end so long as the winds still blew. Unless, of course, the components fell apart from neglect. Albedo kept an eye out for any signs of untrustworthy footing as he forged onward and upward, his heart beating to the turn of the pulley and gears.

About halfway up, things started getting more interesting. The machines thinned out somewhat, and less practical instruments took their place. Albedo spotted several panels somehow suspended in the air, mostly in spaced rows across large gaps. Those flipped one way sported a blue color, while those the other way showed red. When he attempted to set a foot on one by way of experiment, it held for a brief instant before swinging to the opposite side. “Hm,” he murmured, figuring that if needed he could probably jump off one in time to avoid falling. In such a manner he could conceivably cross an entire row of them, as long as he didn’t mess up. Less scrutable, and therefore more interesting, were the more rare green blocks. Marked on each vertical side by two slanted holes like angry eyebrows, they floated innocuously in open space. Once again Albedo gave one a try. At first it seemed like nothing happened, but a moment later -after he got both feet on- it started pushing out copies of itself, traveling through the air. He jumped back before it could take him too far, then turned to watch the block procession turn at right angles as it went left, right, left again, and up, like a bizarre, cuboid snake. It climbed to a loft platform higher up, well out of range of his flowers, then turned to come back down to where it started. Once it returned he shrugged and stepped on. Even if things got a little less conventional, he wasn’t about to turn down a free ride.

Making use of the unusual blocks, panels, and other structural phenomena, Albedo steadily made his way to about the two-third mark.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

As of today, we've entered the Metaverse. I'm sure everyone's excited to get their Personas, and we definitely will, but I have a method in mind for the madness. It's going to take a little bit for the Warlords to dispatch detachments to track down their targets, so with one exception, those characters with the Renewal route will go through their awakenings first. You'll be drawn to the territories of your Shadows as we try to escape. Once we're out of the prison we'll run into the other Warlords, and not necessarily one by one. This will also give everyone on the Rebellion route more of a chance to make their Warlords.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Barney Rynsburger

4:15 PM

When Barney seated himself he scarcely felt the bench beneath him. Although it wasn’t especially cold out today, he still felt numb. It was hard to think straight. A buzz occupied his mind, not too unlike the sensation that followed a casual drink or two, but this numbness held no comfort. Rather than oblivious he felt painfully aware, but even though Barney knew that he ought to be getting himself together in order to think up a solution for this mess, like a rational adult, his every attempt got crowded out by that cruel, nagging buzz. “Calm down,” he whispered aloud. “Calm down. It’s not over. It’s…” He trailed off. The words rang laughably hollow. How wretched could he get, trying to console himself like this? That wasn’t something a strong person would do. Nobody could ever respect someone who needed to tell himself everything was okay. Barney looked around, although even as he checked for other people, he didn’t know what he wanted to see. Did he want to make sure nobody saw him being a loser? Did he want someone to see him and feel compelled to extend compassion? Why was he fixated on such stupid things to begin with!? Seething quietly, the young man shook his head to try and chance away his runaway thoughts. He needed to quit throwing himself a pity party and think about the future, already!

The future. His future. Idiot that he was, he thought he might be able to control it. In the end, all he’d managed to do was sink himself further into hell. The existence that lay before him could scarcely be called a life. How many years, how many decades would it take to repay everyone he owed? How could he last all that time without family, friends, or love? Where do I go from here?

Barney expected no answer, and received none. But in the end, he did know what came next. Just rotting here sounded pretty good, but it was never really an option. Tonight’s shift at the deli, Best Wurst, began at six. Less than two hours from now. He needed to do some homework, clean up, get dressed, eat something, and go. Of course he didn’t want to, but there was no good reason not to. No actual sickness ailed him and no emergency matters occupied him. In fact, he needed money now more than ever. To slack off now would be tantamount to giving up on his life. And even if he didn’t go, sooner or later hunger or thirst or something would force him back to reality. It was just a matter of time.

Better, he thought, not to let himself get into such a sorry state. Things were hard enough without him gimping himself like this. ”All in my head,” he murmured. Everyone had their troubles, just like everyone had their responsibilities. He wasn’t special. In fact, the only difference was how much of a baby he was being. It’s not a big deal. As long as he could still do what he needed to, he could make it through. Come what may, he would survive. I can handle it. Just buck up and get it done. Barney took deep breaths, working the brisk November air through his system. With each heave of his chest the muscles knotted by nerves and exercise could release a little of their tension. He sagged limply down across his bench until he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as the cracks’ heat warmed him from below. The knots in the wood above stared back down at him, taking in his listless expression as he considered the other matter at hand. No matter how he teased his brain trying to explain the cracks away, he could arrive at only one conclusion. “I’m losing my doggone mind,” he moaned. “Ugh. It’s all in my head. All in my…?”

Someone was here. Barney looked over, startled from his reverie for the second time that day. Did someone follow him from the student center after he made a scene? He studied his visitor’s appearance, noting the long black hair with orange dyed strips. Mostly black clothes too. A goth? After just a moment he felt sure that he didn’t recognize this guy, either from the student center or from the university at large. That didn’t exactly surprise him, with BWU being a big school and all. What did surprise him was that Dakota seemed to be recording, not the bearded layabout, but the cracks in the floor. The realization jerked Barney fully awake. “Wait a second,” he blurted out, swinging his legs onto the floor as he rose into a sitting position on his bench. “You can see those too?! I thought I was seein’ things!”

The two didn’t get long to ponder the revelation. Barney’s eyes drifted to another incoming person, and this one he did recognize. That girl again! How bizarre that he would run into her outside of class twice in one day. Then again, judging by the way the redhead stared at the cracks, maybe this wasn’t coincidence. She hung back from the two dudes already inside the gazebo, indecisive, but as Mila considered her options yet another student showed up. His tailored appearance and severe bearing gave Barney the instant impression of someone from a totally different walk of life, but here he was, all the same. It took just a moment for Caelum to arrive at the same conclusion that Barney did a few moments ago, and the rich boy made a beeline for Dakota to make sure that he was, in fact, recording the cracks. With his head spinning, Barney only half-listened to the exchange that followed. Other people could see the impossible cracks. A bunch of them! They could feel their heat, too. He wasn’t crazy after all!

That, of course, begged a different question. If these cracks weren’t figments of his imagination...what were they?

For now he couldn’t fathom. He could only watch as a girl with long black hair arrived exhausted from running, small and skinny enough that Barney mistook her for a middle schooler. When she felt a few sets of eyes on her she looked like she wanted to melt through the floor, a true shrinking violet. Not even a minute later another stranger appeared behind her, albeit one a lot more attention-grabbing. Tall, scrappy-looking, and recently wounded, he cut a bizarre figure in undersized athletic wear. He ended up seeming more filthy than fearsome, however, and even if he opted to stagger toward a bench rather than start punching people, his odor hit Barney like a haymaker. He sat, released an nigh-unintelligible whine, and went limp.

Barney offered him a look of empathy. “Poor guy. The homeless really have it rough.” As a result of the spectacle he nearly missed another arrival, another shortie, but this one in janitorial attire. The slouching stranger seemed oddly familiar, like someone Barney had seen before but not committed to memory. Either way, he couldn’t get much of a read, and his attention quickly shifted. Next to wander into the impromptu pier-bound pow-wow was none other than Harriette, seemingly by accident, but at this point Barney was having his doubts. “This is too weird,” he muttered, thinking aloud. When his acquaintance’s russet eyes turned his way he shot her a look saying he was just as confused as she was, shrugging as he did so. “Did we all follow the cracks…?”

Another guy, a fairly normal-looking fellow with a youthful bent to him, but as he gave vent to a fragment of his pent-up stress Barney found himself otherwise engaged. Since he first arrived the cracks had remained totally static, bafflingly anomalous but otherwise not that concerning. Out of nowhere there came a loud snapping sound, so sudden that Barney jumped a third time, as the entire web of cracks widened. With his annoyance at getting scared again buried by acute alarm Barney jumped to his feet, only to sway dangerously. The ground felt unstable beneath his feet, as if the pier were about to collapse, but it wasn’t just that. Where before the narrow cracks held only darkness, now there seemed to be some kind of light, a fiery orange glow. In that dull light he could see movement, like clouds of tumbling smoke. Barney noticed black particles drifting upward from the cracks, and as he reached out dumbly to touch one he realized his vision was swimming. He felt dizzy...woozy...he fought to steady himself. But in the end, he fell.

---

Chapter Two - Intolerable Cruelty

When Barney hit the ground it knocked both the wind and the wooziness right out of him. “Huuhh!” he gasped, curling up as he rolled onto his back. “Oww, jeez…” he held himself still for a few moments until the diaphragm spasm cleared. Only then did he finally open his eyes, but the clear sight of a dark, cloudy sky brought him confusion rather than relief. “It’s...night?” After all those cracks he could believe that the gazebo fell apart, and attribute the rest to stress, but he didn’t feel like he lost consciousness for even a moment, let alone a few hours. Yet that shadowy sky extended as far as the eye could see, a tumultuous black-gray swirl whose underbelly shone a smoldering orange. A storm must have rolled in, he decided after a moment. With brows furrowed in bafflement he rose, first into a sitting position, then to hit feet. At that point it took him about a picosecond to realize that the sky was the least of his concerns.

He wasn’t at Barclay Waterfront University anymore. Hell, after looking around for a minute, he might not even be on earth. He stood not on Stoutland Pier but on what appeared to be a heavy-duty dock, and when he looked down to where the ocean should be he found only a bubbling, shifting, oil-dark mass that extended from the shore all the way to the horizon. Though at first glance pitch black, it shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, like motor oil on a highway after a rain, as its surface constantly changed. As he watched Barney thought he caught glimpses of limbs and faces, human and inhuman, forming and unforming, a limitless and amorphous expanse that boggled the imagination. Afraid, not of drowning but of what might lurk in that sea of souls, Barney backed away from the edge. When he turned in the direction that the college should be, however, he found a sight still more fantastic.

It was like something out of the movie. The dock connected directly to what looked like a gargantuan jail, shaped like an angular magnet against the waterfront. Immense citadel walls, topped with coils of barbed wire the size of subway tunnels, boxed in a prison compound at least as big as the university itself, if Barney had to guess. Octagonally roofed guard towers interspersed the walls at relative citadels, shining down two harsh spotlights apiece across the entire complex, no doubt searching for escapees and intruders. The jailhouse itself shared the walls’ magnet shape, a single curved building with at least five stories. Even from here Barney could see the light eking out from the cells’ barred windows. Also like the walls the jailhouse bore a needlessly brutal, almost demonic appearance, with rows of spikes and even what looked like gargoyles. Closer toward the middle stood a similarly arrayed curve of smaller buildings throughout what could only be the prison yard, and though things moved through those yards Barney could not tell what, and he shuddered. There were a couple other more miscellaneous structures tucked into corners here and there, and Barney’s eyes lingered on what looked like a cathedral for a few moments. In the center of it all, however, stood a courthouse of immaculate beauty. Its pristine white pillars and domed roof stood tall above its frightful surroundings, but beneath the dome of its central tower the glassless windows revealed the biggest, brightest searchlight of them all. Like a giant, lemon-yellow eye it roved around the jail, nothing escaping its gaze.

And if that prison wasn’t terrifying and awesome by itself, a glance beyond the prison’s walls would provide the barest, smoke-veiled peek at a smoky metropolitan cityscape ravaged by war. Into the sky rose the hazy suggestions of streams of wreckage and debris, dreamlike in their surrealism, before they dove back to the earth in unfathomably huge loops of constant motion.

Barney staggered, mouth agape, barely standing. When he took a step his footfall created a pinkish splash on the ground, as if he’d stepped in a phantom puddle, but the stain disappeared just as quickly. In disbelief he looked between the others scattered around the dock, clinging to the only stuff that made any sense. “What is this?!” he breathed, his panic only kept at bay by his certainty that this couldn’t possibly, under any circumstance, be real. “Some kind of nightmare?” He stamped his foot a couple times, watching the splashes appear and disappear, and only barely managed to suppress a crazed giggle. “Ohhh, man. I better not be stuck here. I’ve gotta get to work...I’ve gotta be there on time, or the boss is gonna freak…” Shaking his head, he looked again, trying to find a way out.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

@TruthHurts22 Since you have fulfilled your end of the deal we discussed in DMs and made a good opening post, I will admit you and your character to the RP. You can post the contract in the Characters tab, and welcome to Soldiers of Fortune. I hope that our collaboration will be a fruitful one.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

See you guys are still accepting, so I was hoping to throw my hat in the ring here. It's been a while since I've been around, I'm sure some of you already present might remember me, but I still wanna take the chance at playin' again. I have (at least, what I think to be) a pretty solid character idea... if Lug'll allow me to join, of course!

@TruthHurts22

We are indeed still accepting in general, but given our particular track record I'm afraid I must decline. I wish you better luck elsewhere!

World of Light

Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

Level 9 Tora (47/90) Level 8 Poppi (117/80) Level 4 Big Band (6/40)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s @Yankee, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Yoshitsune and Sora’s @Rockin Strings
Word Count: 1220 and 577

Though he’d only just avoided a surprise Night Ode from the newly-arrived Primrose, Dante seemed determined not to give either Tora or Poppi a singular moment to breathe. He left the dancer for Earthquake to deal with and rushed the pair down. A barrage of pistol fire buffeted Tora’s Mech Arms as Dante ran in, and when he got into range closed the distance that remained with a Stinger. The point of the demon killer’s sliding thrust went right between the Nopon’s high-tech cestus, and only a quick ether barrier from his fast-acting partner prevented a stab between his eyes.

“Too close!” he yelled in surprise, but before he could even try to wrench the Rebellion from Dante’s hands the sword shrank back into the hilt and transformed into Osiris, a scythe of angelic silver. It swooped in from the side in a crescent arc, striking the Mech Arms again and again in quick succession. Tora pulled back with his left wing while continuing to defend with his right for a counterpunch, but instead of slugging Dante in the stomach, his enemy interrupted his attack for a backward dodge, and Tora’s blow swept through empty air. In the moment he overextended himself Dante struck back, hooking the blade of his scythe around Tora’s own weapon to yank him off his feet. “Meeeh!” he cried as he got swung overhead and into the ground on Dante’s other side, separated from his blade companion.

With her Masterpon in trouble, Poppi jetted into action. She zoomed forward with a jet-propelled spinning crescent kick, followed by a roundhouse into afterburner side kick. Only the round connected, and even then just into Dante’s shoulder, and as he dipped out of the way of Poppi’s last attack he grabbed her by one of her metal twintails and rammed the barrel of his shotgun, Revenant into her back. The blast of demonic shrapnel blew through Poppi’s chest, stunning her momentarily even as her ether furnace began to repair the damage. Without Mercy Dante unleashed his scythe’s Prop technique, juggling Poppi on its blade.

Tora leaped up from behind him with his Mech Arms raised for a double overhead smash, his face an uncharacteristic mask of rage, but Dante deftly dropped Poppi in favor of a quick elbow to Tora’s chin. As he turned his weapon changed from angelic scythe to demonic fists, and Tora only barely moved his weapons in time to block the dizzying Slam that squished him into a sitting position against the ground. Dante charged Eryx for an uppercut, sure that it would be the finishing blow, but Tora had other ideas. With a cry he forsook his guard and unleashed a sideways blast from the tip of one Mech Arm. The burst of force spun him like a top, allowing the other arm to sweep his foe’s legs. Dante belted out a colorful swear as he went down. Tora sprang up, but rather than press his luck he ran to collect Poppi. The decision spared him a blow from Beast’s hammer from behind, and with her sprinted away from both enemies toward the back of the dungeon.

They turned to see Dante on his feet, dusting off his coat, and Beast next to him. Though panting from exertion already, Tora did his best to stabilize Poppi on her feet. “Poppi! You okay!?”

Bit by bit, the orange glow of converted ether mended the bullet holes in her chassis. The blade gave a slow nod. “Yes, Poppi self-repair routines online. Still, Poppi think mode change good idea. Mech Arms not suited for this fight.”

Dante gave a cocky grin, enjoying the lull in the battle. “Grasp at whatever straws you like, toots. You’ve got nothing on me.”

His casual manner infuriated Tora to no end. “Meh, meh, meh! Buttface jerkypon very sore loser!”

“You didn’t beat me,” Dante told him, shaking his head. “And you never will.” He rested Rebellion on his shoulder as he waited for Tora and Poppi to make their move.

In the brief standoff that followed, Tora and Poppi stood firm with defenses raised, ready to pivot toward either opponent. Even Dante was taking the chance to catch a quick breath. But in that space the duo caught a glimpse of the obnoxious Earthquake menacing their friend Primrose. Made to look tiny and frail against the mountain of angry meat in front of her, the dancer seemed hard-pressed. Tora couldn't forsake her--neither as a defender nor a hero. "Primrose!" he called, afraid enough for his friend that he was willing to risk a charge right through the opposition to protect her.

Primrose thrust a hand in the direction of Tora's voice, a palm held out to signal he not move towards her. "I've got this," she told him, staring down Earthquake with a glare to match his leer. She didn't seem intimidated, instead she was almost emboldened by the large man's taunts.

Her confidence reassured her friends completely. “Good show, Rose-Rose!” Tora called back. “Mess that fattypon up! As for us….” He gave Dante his best death stare. “It time we stop messing around. Poppi QT Pi, let’s go!” His companion shifted to her final form, Variable Saber at the ready.

Dante did not look impressed. “That one again? You two swing that thing around like a kid trying to hit a piñata. If you’re still playin’ games, I might as well finish this now.”

“Things turn out different this time!” Tora grinned. In smaller voice he addressed Poppi. “This guy too fast for fighting normal way, meh. Need fight together!”

A worried look took over Poppi’s face. “But if we do that, Poppi can’t shield Masterpon. And besides, we have only one weapon.”

“Not so,” Tora whispered. “Listen…”

Just a moment passed before Dante got annoyed. He summoned another new weapon, Kablooey, and with a shout of “Alright, enough yapping!” fired a dart of demonic energy between Tora and Poppi. They recognized what it must be in an instant and split up just before Dante detonated it. Smoke and stone shards flew as the explosion went off, shaking the whole dungeon.

The next moment, however, the two burst from the haze, Poppi boosting forward while holding Tora by one swing. She spun around to launch him at the opposition, saber blade extended, in a blue laser whirlwind. Beast rolled to the side while Dante jumped over, and as Tora lost his momentum the demon killer brought out Ophion to snatch his opponent where he stood and reel him in. “Try blocking this, tons of fun!” His weapon transformed to Arbiter, and its cruel axeblade came down to cleave through Tora’s desperate attempt to slash him and split the Nopon like kindling.

Instead Arbiter came down on the Drill Shield, barely leaving a mark. “What? You had…!” Before Dante could say another word the shield’s center opened to shoot out a Boom Biter. The explosion went off point-blank, blasting Dante away. Beast charged in to take over, but Dante wasn’t done just yet. As he flew Poppi Alpha rocketed up behind him, and with the full weight of this form’s armor behind it, drove her elbow into the demon killer’s spine. “Poppi returning favor,” she said flatly, raising her claymore above her head in a reverse grip. “Regret in next life.”

---

Level Upgrade - Big Band

New Power Acquired: Even the Sky Ain't the Limit - In a marvelous display of ASG's technological prowess, Band can reconfigure his lower body into a rocket and blaze through the skies. He can't sustain it for too long, and he can barely turn after blasting off, but it's still an effective tool for travel. For slower, more precision flying he must deploy the inner rockets into Timpany Drive position, although the strain of flying like this gives him only a few seconds for maneuvering

Although he planned to corral Es toward the bottom-right corner of the dungeon in an effort to keep her away from the other fights unfolding throughout the place, Big Band’s adversary practically did the job for him. The short swordswoman displayed no emotion one way or the other, but if she preferred the one-on-one fight he was aiming at, that was fine by him. That just left the matter of actually fighting her, which was a task much easier said than done. Es came to the table with a strong hand, the complete package of speed, strength, and even reach given the size of her zweihander. Though she enhanced her swordplay with just one magical trick, it soon became apparent as they traded blows why she needed no other. The magical crests that her sword left in its wake threw off the rhythm of the fight completely, making her that much harder to deal with.

But if she expected the detective to be easy pickings, she would be disappointed. Any big, slow fighter who stood the test of time invariably piled up experience fighting smaller, quicker enemies, and with Band about as big and slow as they came, he was just the man for the job. He wouldn’t stand still and allow himself to be pressured into an endless vortex of defense until she finally slipped through. Instead he took the fight to her. Brass Knuckles allowed him to armor through careless hits and make her think twice about just throwing things out. His five thousand pound dropkick provided a lot of threat, both when Es tried to jump in over his Brass Knuckles or Giant Steps, and because he could spring forward after landing to close the distance. When inevitably put on defense, he tactically opted to take hits that he knew couldn’t lead to full combos just to get back to neutral. Being tough had its advantages.

Of course, he still only got a couple hits in. But when you’re Big Band, a few hits is all it takes.

There! Though slashed, battered, and bleeding, Band saw his chance. After managing to land a combo, Es went for a quick and dirty reset to start it all over again. Her mistake was to approach from the air. He’d been saving a special something from the outset for just such an occasion; she had no idea what she was in for. “Beat!” As he angled himself upward, halves of an enormous tambourine shot from the front of his coat to clap shut on Es’ torso like a vice, and her overhead cleave failed to connect. The clamor of the cymbals rang out across the dungeon, filling the air with jingle jangles as they filled Es with Sound Stun. “...Extend!”

She fell limply in front of him, and Big Band got to work. A magnificent array of instruments, from the triangles and trombones to the clarinet, oboe, and organ pipes, deployed to hammer his foe in harmony. The brassy beatdown culminated in an Air Mail Special, and after the saxophone uppercut popped Es skyward, Band finished things off in style. “You’re gonna get beat!” A ring of six rocket-powered timpanis deployed from his undercarriage, and with each smack of a drum a soundblast both blasted Es and sent him higher into the air. All too soon it came to an end and the two fell back to earth. Band landed on his feet, but Es did not.

World of Light

Team Mao

Location: Al Mamoon Northeast - Rocket Inc.
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Mao’s @Potemking, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Joker, Fox, Necronomicon, Braum

When Ciella’s riptide tore across the battlefield, the furious scrap between Mao and the Dragonborn came to a momentary lull. Now that the fury of Mao’s opponent had subsided it could no longer sustain his offense, and fatigue took its toll on him along with his wounds. Nevertheless the Nord warrior composed himself to jump over the wave and deliver a falling attack. Gravity could make up for his waning strength in bringing his sword down like a sideways guillotine blade to split Mao straight down the middle. In a most unexpected turn, however, he never got the chance to try it. Rather than just evade the wave, the opportunistic Overlord used it to his advantage to propel himself forward at high speed.

All of a sudden the Dragonborn found Mao right in his face, a whole host of weapons and magic much too close for comfort. With no other options he planted his foot to withstand the raging water and resolved to bet his life on his shield. He aimed a single thrust at Mao’s head before committing to defense, but the demon’s scalpel narrowly deflected it. Simultaneously the buzz saw bit into its surface, kicking up smoke and sawdust, but Mao had a better idea for overcoming the shield than pushing his saw to the point of getting stuck.

His magically-charged fist struck the shield in an explosive blast of power. Its cracked almost in half, but even worse for the Dragonborn than that, the force carried through and bodily smashed him into the riptide. Meanwhile, thanks to the law of equal and opposite reactions, Mao popped up safely over the wave. When he landed he could watch the Dragonborn roll to a stop near to the top edge of the arena, the shattered remains of his shield still strapped to his arm. Though battered, bleeding, and close to the brink, the Warrior picked himself up with a Herculean effort. He gripped his sword with both hands and walked forward to meet Mao once again. He possessed no more magic, and no other weapons--save one. A single talent that could turn the tides. “Zuun…Haal Viik!” His shout rolled forward to strike and disarm Mao, pulling his weapons from his grasp. The axe hurled away, and his machine limbs hung limply. Despite his wounds the Dragonborn broke into a jog, headed into the ultimate round. “Your fist of flame against my steel. Let us end this!”

In the top-right quarter of the colosseum, though, Ciella’s riptide barely made an impact. It just made for the cherry on top of the pile of things Jesse had to deal with, while Oriendi hopped over without issue and it finally petered out before it reached Mordecai. Still, Jesse had been on the back foot long enough to get a grasp on what her foes could do, and it was past time she struck back. With the disruption provided by Sectonia’s magic she launched her own offensive. It began by letting loose a Shatter shot that clipped Mordecai’s hawk and forced it to beat a hasty retreat to its master. Jesse found her angle and hurled a jagged length of floor forward. The flying spear elicited a squeal of panic from Orendi, who scrambled to get out of its way, before hurtling on to force a prompt relocation from Mordecai.

While the sniper got to a new safe spot, taking the chance to reload, Orendi found refuge behind a pillar and readied her magic. Cackling to herself she positioned its area of effect perfectly for Jesse to walk right into as she rounded the column. All she needed to do was wait. After a moment, however, Orendi got the impression she was waiting a little longer than she ought to. Just then there came a terrible wrenching noise to her seven o’clock, and Orendi’s head snapped in that direction to see a chunk of the pillar headed her way. A shriek tore from her throat as she threw herself to her right, barely avoiding the projectile and nearly landing on her face.

When she rose she spotted none other than Jesse, having circled around the other direction. “Guh! Whyaren’tyouonFIRErightnow?!” All four hands shot up to unleash a fusillade of black-purple magic bolts, but Jesse had the upper hand. A concussive flashbang blew through her attack, knocked the imp head over heels, and slid her through the sand for a couple dozen feet before she came to a stop. Jesse approached for a closer shot, but as she leveled the barrel of her Service Weapon Orendi looked up with a wild grin on her scarred face. A row of black rings appeared between her and Jesse, the prelude to an incinerating magical beam. “Heeheehee, gotcha! Showmethemguts!”

In the moment she spent talking, however, before her magic came out, Jesse made a simple observation. While staring down the barrel, so to speak, she could so that the very rings that Orendi used for targeting perfectly framed the caster’s face. A shot aimed through them couldn’t possibly miss, and Jesse didn’t. The Shatter blast rang out, and with a groan Orendi’s head plopped down. One down, one to go.

Speaking of which, a sniper bullet smashed into her right shoulder. In his haste to try and stop her Mordecai had fired off a less-than-optimal shot, and his weapon still did a bunch of damage. With Jesse’s barrier newly restored by the crystals collected from Orendi, however, it was far from catastrophic. Mordecia’s bird circled overhead once more, confirming that her fight was far from over.

Meanwhile, the advent of Ciella’s awakened form on the opposite end of the battlefield garnered an immediate response from the Resistance members nearby. Even a few of the Vandals in the center turned their guns on her, taking potshots on the big target from afar. In a bid to keep Ciella from going hog wild Midna attempted to take Reinhardt, who she figured would be the Agito’s main target, for herself. In a stroke of luck Ciella began by endowing herself with a defense-boosting Karmic Shield rather than attacking, although Midna was at that point too busy with Reinhardt to notice. Her strategy worked flawlessly, and while the new-age knight struggled to pull his hammer from the grip of her hair-hand, she landed a solid blow to his head with her shield. Reinhardt saw stars as he reeled from the impact, but he did not go down, and the next Midna found herself faced with another problem.

A heavy glass flask shattered against her Fused Shadow in a burst of liquid flame. Running toward her like a lunatic, Uncle Sven threw a vial of elastic ooze at his feet and with just a small jump sprang into the air, headed her way. He slammed into Midna’s shield belly-first, bounced harmlessly off it, and hurled two flasks of purple acid from above. She could easily float out of the way, but in the midst of Sven’s potent distraction Reinhardt came around in a revolving hammer swing strong enough to break her guard even if she blocked it. Then, to add insult to injury, Shadow teleported in above her and dealt a two-footed stomp to send her straight into Sven’s acid pool.

With Sectonia still enjoying herself above the firefight in the colosseum’s center, pumping her mana into an abundance of random projectiles of varying usefulness, that gave all three Resistance fighters a chance to face the Agito. The fight began with a furious exchange of water and chaos bolts between Ciella and Shadow, while Reinhardt and Sven quickly set up their next gambit. Ciella could conjure five water arrows for the price of one, and since all ricocheted off any surface they hit, they quickly rivalled Sectonia’s own spells in quantity, but Shadow kept moving. He hurled spear after spear, until finally Reinhardt charged over a new puddle of Sven’s elastic ooze and launched into the air. The titan of a man soared skyward, a breathtaking feat of teamwork, and like a rocket-powered train rammed into the harpy midair. With a mighty downward swing of his faithful weapon he cried, “Hammer DOWN!” and struck Ciella head-on. Her barrier shattered, and she plummeted to the ground.

The Agito was, however, a lot lighter than she looked. Her landing hurt nowhere near as bad as it sounded, and though Reinhardt started swinging, she rose back off the ground a moment later. Ciella wasted no time firing off Bolts From Above, an attack that promised to deal incredible damage if its targets did not escape its telltale AoE. Once out of her acid bath, Midna would need to intervene to spare Reinhardt and Uncle Sven the same punishment that spelled the end for Amara.

Meanwhile, Shadow turned his attention to Sectonia. As if the egomaniacal insect didn’t bug him enough already, she just had to go and start being a nuisance with random projectiles--his least favorite kind of projectile. As her Ice Antlions got into a firefight with the Vandals in the arena’s center, Shadow floated up to face her. “It’s about time I shut you up for good!” he yelled, and as she let loose a lightning bolt he hurled a paralytic Chaos Spear. The two traded blows, and the sudden electrocution made Shadow grit his teeth. “Rgh! Think you’re hot shit, do you? Well, here’s a news flash, weakling!”

With the mission on the line, Shadow could not afford to hold back. He unleashed the power of Chaos Control, freezing Sectonia in time. Flying around her, he deposited the Solar grenades he’d stolen from Nastasia’s Vandals while not being bothered by Ciella’s Riptide. He then teleported in front of her, and with a snap of his fingers kicked time back into motion. “You’re toast!” The final moment of the grenades’ fuses passed before they detonated in a chain-reaction of fiery destruction.

Even as a spectacular lightshow went off overhead, the Phantom Thieves could not distract themselves from their own fight. The number of Vandals Nastasia summoned quickly got overwhelming, and though Braum arrived in heroic fashion to lend the Thieves his shield, so too did Shayne and Aurox crash the party. With Fuse still in the mix, things were more chaotic than ever, and nobody could afford to take their eyes off Nastasia herself for long lest she get close enough to bring them under her hypnotic control.

Chased by mass gunfire from the Vandals, Fox slid to a stop behind Braum shield, joining Joker in the only refuge they had. Laser fire pinged off their ally’s mighty tower shield, unable to scratch it, but they couldn’t exactly launch an offense, either. “We appear to be pinned down,” Fox observed. Rather than reply, Joker looked over his friend’s shoulder to see Shayne and Aurox incoming. He pushed Fox aside and rolled sideways in time to avoid the enemy teenager’s boomerang, but a moment later Shayne reached melee range, and Aurox lashed out with scythelike claws. They sliced into Braum’s torso, provoking a grunt of pain even as the mustached guardian held firm. If Braum fell, Joker knew, there would be nothing between them and the Vandal battalion. They’d be done for.

He slid forward beneath the horror’s arm and lunged for Shayne with his knife extended, only for his blade to be caught by the punk’s own. “Nuh-uh! Get ‘em, Aurox!”

“I will ELIMINATE your physical form!” her companion snarled, lashing out with such fury that Joker nearly backpedaled into the open. As Aurox pounced on Fox, and after Fox helped Joker up they faced Shayne and Aurox two on two.

“Guys!” Necronomicon called. “That monster is an energy being cobbling together a body out of rocks! Max him out and he’ll de-manifest!”

They traded a handful of blows, knife and katana against claws and boomerang. Without any room to work with, the thieves were on the back foot until they called forth their Personas to deliver blasts of Curse and Ice, which left Shayne more incredulous than anything. “You’ve got them, too!?” Joker ignored her and let loose with his new hand cannon. Aurox crossed his arms to defend his host, with each bullet chipping away at his stony arms, but while he defended his front Fox summoned Goemon to deliver a powerful overhead Tempest Slash with his pipe. After getting clobbered Aurox roared out, “Grrrrr! I am a RAGING HATE FURNACE of INFINITE POWER!” and hurled both himself and Shayne forward in a dizzying spin slash, but both Phantom Thieves jumped into the air. Joker plugged Aurox’s head with a charged shot, blowing him back, and Fox fell with a slice down the pair’s front. After landing he followed up with a quick spin slash that faced him away from them, and sheathed his blade. A shattering sound rang out as Aurox unsummoned, and Shayne staggered, groaning, for just a moment before Joker dropped her with an elbow to the head.

He and Fox stood there for a moment, victorious, until they realized that the shooting had stopped. They turned forward again to watch Braum slump to his knees, and when they looked up found Nastasia sitting calmly on top of his shield, one leg crossed. “Yeah, that was cool and all, but you’re pretty much done for.”

A half-dozen Vandals fanned out to either side of the shield, their weapons trained on Joker and Fox. Nastasia smiled politely. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

Ms Fortune

Level 4 Nadia (84/40)
Location: The Maw - the Depths
Blazermate's @Archmage MC, Bowser's @DracoLunaris, Ace Cadet's @Yankee, Sakura's @Zoey Boey, Mirage’s @Potemking, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy
Word Count: 874

The Mockingbird was toast, its existence nasty, brutish, and short. Yet, despite feeling bad for the thing, Nadia found herself wishing that its end lasted a little longer. With it gone, it put the lives of everyone else on a timer, and those of Junior and herself in particular. When Moreau turned away from the wreckage to roam through the junk-littered Depths, scanning his territory for any signs of life, he quickly picked up on the pang-pang-pang of little feet on metal. Detected just as they turned the second floor’s top-left corner, Nadia and Junior made a mad dash for the elevator, their weary bones spurred on by panic. Moreau gave a guttural grunt, ponderously rolled himself around, and with a terrifying vigor hauled himself their way. Knowing his prey’s intentions he went not for the runners’ current position but for the elevator itself. A terrible racket resounded through the Depths as he shoved its detritus aside to reach his destination.

Although the stray kitten neither meant nor wanted to serve as a distraction again, the uproar gave Link, Geralt, Ace, and Mirage ample time to both put forward plans and deliberate upon them. Given the enormous, repulsive obstacle that seemed dead set on barring their escape, the idea of confronting Moreau directly held some water. They considered striking at his weak points, weaponizing spirits, and spattering the monster with structure gel. But whatever their options might be, it took just one look at the current situation to realize that they need to do something now.

Nadia saw Moreau him coming from a mile away, but did not divert from her destination. If she could just reach the elevator and get it open, she could take refuge inside until the others arrived. The leviathan couldn’t possibly squeeze inside, after all. As Moreau crashed closer and closer, eyeballs lolling and tentacles thrashing, Nadia closed in on the button. Only then did she realize quite how far loomed above her, so tantalizingly out of her stubby little arms’ reach. Not even thinking about how Mimi might be better equipped to accomplish the task, she sprang up to slap the button with every bit of spring she had left. Her fingertips clapped it, bringing a grin of victory to Nadia’s face, but her elation lived only briefly. The next second Moreau’s loathsome bulk annihilated the second-floor catwalk directly in front of the elevator, crashing through the metal so close to Nadia that the vacuum wave of his passage and the loss of footing pulled her down after him.

The kitten landed on something uneven and squishy. After a moment she realized she was not dead, but opened her eyes to find herself nestled between a bunch of Moreau’s grotesque, gooey eyeballs, which wasn’t much better of an alternative. She looked up in hopes of seeing the elevator doors opening, but no such luck. Nadia just barely kept herself from screaming and tearing her own hair out in frustration. Of course the elevator needed to come down, and take its sweet time too. At least Mimi and Junior were okay. Maybe the Pokemon could reach down and pick her up. Or maybe…

Moreau was on the move. When Blazermate flew down to scoop Ace up and mend his booboos, the light of her thrusters was just what the fish freak wanted to see, and the noise of her flight music to his ears. Once Moreau turned to track Blazermate Nadia’s bright eyes could see the others on the move too, using the catwalks to cross the formerly flooded base’s center. Nadia spotted just about everyone down on the second floor now, including Sakura, Bowser, Rika, Kamek and even the pets! This was truly the final stretch--all that remained was to bring it home. Unfortunately, the only straight shot across had already been wrecked by Moreau earlier, which left the Seekers with less direct routes. They could either zigzag around the remaining bridges or chance taking a flight of stairs to the bottom in order to climb back up another set closer to the goal, throwing whatever they liked at Moreau on the way.

From her current vantage point, Nadia felt like she could land a hand. For whatever reason -possibly an existence of constant aches, pressures, and pains, now that Nadia thought about it- Moreau hadn’t noticed her yet. Blazermate still occupied his focus, but for how long she couldn’t say, since he wasn’t so stupid as to chase an unreachable target for much longer. Though still running on fumes, the feral wobbled to her feet and grabbed onto the base of a tendril for support. Then she started jumping up and down on his icky, defunct eyeballs, squashing and squeezing the oozy tumors, even puncturing them with her sharp toenails. Moreau might roll over again or shake her off, but Nadia wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Right now, once the elevator actually arrived and the doors slid open, everyone would be home free. In the heat of the moment she thought only about what she could do to help her friends get there. So she mashed those eyes like her life depended on it, clinging tight even as Moreau bucked in annoyance. “Rrgh! Get offa me!”

Old Mill

Location: Frozen Highlands - Alpine Skyline
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy

When first stepping into the windmill’s bottom floor one could be forgiven for mistaking the place for a barn. Plenty of old grains clumped up in corners and along walls, while various farming tools lay scattered around the place, some of them bent and twisted in odd ways, or embedded into the walls. Albedo imagined the mill’s mischievous feline occupants playing with them, either in mock sword fights or throwing competitions. Either way, the disused place had long fallen into the paws of vagrants. Only the massive grindstone in the center of the floor took away from the impression of a barn, but following the great log upward past the giant gears dispelled the illusion completely.

Albedo craned his neck upward, taking in the awesome spectacle. Rather than being divided into floors that blocked his view, the mill was predominantly open, and its heights alive with motion. The turn of its blades powered a huge array of simple wood and metal machines, including pulley lifts, big gears both vertical and horizontal, transport carts on rails, spinning blocks, and what a more modern observer might have likened to Ferris wheels. Throughout the whole area he could spy more floating pons, too.

Of the cat burglars he could find no immediate trace, not even the slight distortions that gave away their invisibility. A closer look up above, however, revealed the tricky felines. They appeared to be scrambling upward using the platforms and machines, perhaps in order to reach a hideout up at the top. Coming to terms with the task ahead might have provoked a sigh from anyone else, but the mild-mannered alchemist was no stranger to legwork. In fact, this was a good thing; retreating upward was a gamble that one’s pursuers could not follow, since if they could, there was no place the runners could go. “Impetuous creatures,” he remarked. “Let us get to it.”

Albedo began by calling forth a solar isotoma near the grindstone. Its Geo magic carried him high enough that he could make it into the gear with a well-timed hop. From there he hitched a ride on one of the ropes that conveyed the main shafts’ turn to another gear on the left side, hanging from the length of tightly-braided fibers until he reached the higher loft floor. After dropping he took a running jump and stuck to a vertical board of planks, and just a couple seconds of crawling later he reached the top. A balancing act across a rafter took him close to a spinning wheel, and once Albedo internalized the distance and movement speed he jumped again. He landed softly in the straw inside the bucket and sat down for stability, waiting in silence as the turn of the wheel brought him higher.

Even once he reached the loft floor above that, though, he still estimated himself only about a fourth of the way up the windmill, if that. As he looked around for a good spot to summon another flower he also kept an eye out to see how Linkle was faring. If she managed to focus this time, her energy and creativity could propel her upward a lot faster than his steady, pragmatic progress.

World of Light

Dungeon Resistance Headquarters

Location: Temple of Khamoon, Al Mamoon, in the Sandswept Sky
Word Count: 4434 (+5)
Primrose’s @Yankee, Fox’s @Dawnrider, Yoshitsune’s @Rockin Strings, Tora, Poppi, and Big Band

While at this point Tora really didn’t have much to worry about from such a minor fall, Poppi boosted upward to catch him mid-air anyway. Reunited well above the searing flame of Robin’s Arcfire, the two got a chance to take in a bird’s-eye view of what would soon be an absolute slugfest. In addition to the six Resistance fighters who sprung that ruthless ambush on his team earlier, the spellcasters whose names Tora now knew to be Robin and Tharja further bolstered the enemy line, and that white-robed assassin provided an entirely new threat. Even though Tora and Poppi arrived late to the fight between Azwel, Fox, and Es, they caught a glimpse of the arcanist’s formidable weapon arts, and for a Grimleal lieutenant to be taken out just like that must surely be no mean feat. That made ten enemies by Tora’s math, including Es and (despite his state) Charnok, but not Drippy. Meanwhile, his own team -himself, Poppi, Fox, Big Band, Primrose, Yoshitsune, Skull, and Panther- numbered just eight, since in more ways than one Kan-Ra could not be counted on.

Poppi’s keen optics and even keener processor picked up on the details even faster than her Masterpon did. Among the opposition, two wielded high-output guns and a whopping five could dish out wide-range magic. This dungeon already made for a rather small battlefield, and the column in the middle with foes to either side divided it in half. For all intents and purposes, the Seekers found themselves faced with a firing squad, expertly coordinated to end the battle before it began in a brutal, overwhelming display of firepower. Neither she nor Tora, being the team’s main protectors, could allow the Resistance even a moment’s time to put their plan into action. “Poppi recommend provocation on one side!”

“Tora thoughts exactly, meh!” It was time for the Nopon to knack for attention-grabbing to work. With a decisive strike on one side he could divert three enemies to the far side of the dungeon, giving everyone more room to work with, and allowing his side’s melee fighters to rush down the mages in the middle. Hopefully an ally would follow them to lend a hand, since Dante was already a problem on his own, and he’d have two friends backing him up. There was just one question in his mind: which side to provoke. Unfortunately it appeared as though Robin anticipated such a move, and not just arbitrated the split by sex; both featured one gunner, one mage, and one melee fighter apiece. But there was no time to think critically. Tora pointed to the left, at Dante, Earthquake, and Beast. Physically tougher customers, fewer distractions. “Let’s go!”

Without delay Poppi dove toward the left. As she flew, Poppi popped open the missile silos in his Mech Arms to shower the area with suppressive missiles, hurling down taunts as he did. “Losers, losers! Meh-meh meh meh-meh! Dummy suckypons never beat me! Dirty, smelly, underground losers! Come get slapped by Tora!” His infuriating singsong voice, punctuated by a blown raspberry, instantly got Earthquake to boiling point and pissed Dante off. As the huge man turned to thunder after the Nopon and Dante ran behind, Beast rolled his eyes to follow them. The others could handle the rest.

Still a couple of meters outside of Arcfire’s range, having been used defensively this time, Fox stayed his ground, but readily widened his stance in poise. A snap assessment of the rapidly escalating situation around them told him that they were out of options, not that they were wealthy in them to begin with. He expected things might fall apart like they were, so he had his mind set in advance. With no remaining recourse, it was time to start making sense again, by showing them something they would understand.

“Fine… have it your way!” Fox uttered sharply to himself, almost under his breath, then swiftly drew his sidearm to squeeze off an Impact shot meant for Robin. Whether it connected or not, he would have Robin’s unyielding attention, just the way he wanted. If the matchup between them at all resembled what he remembered, Fox would be the best qualified to deal with him personally, and given his vested stake in the mission, that was just how he wanted it. There was little doubt, however, that he wouldn't just be allowed to have him to himself, so he went in mentally prepared for a more lopsided engagement. Either way, his sights were set…

Seeing his allies go different directions, Yoshitsune dashed to the right, drawing his flaming swords swiftly. Because of his wheels, he was faster than most people could react to and attack. He knew he wouldn't reach them unscathed but he could protect his vitals with his swords. On the way he passed right by Es, charging toward the center group, and the two traded a glancing blow. Once close enough, he slid around behind the fleeing gunner before she could reach cover, and with his swords to her neck he turned her to face the Witch Doctor. "Move and she dies." Using Daisy as a shield, he began moving further from the center, keeping his sight on the others, ready to defend and counter once there other girls made their moves.

While others rushed in to meet their opponents head on, Primrose fell back, making sure her equipment - the mask and watch - was secure. She could sling spells with the best of them, but her main role was as a supporter. Right now she needed to make a quick assessment and see what the best move for her would be. Though she'd expected things to come to blows, the assassin that fell from the ceiling was a surprise. Though not fond of either of the Grimleal captains, Primrose's face hardened when Azwel went down. They're back to their true colors, she thought. After that first ambush they should have guessed the Resistance would have something like this up their sleeve. Before offering any kind of support to those on the offensive the dancer ducked down beside the flamboyant captain. She didn't know if it was possible to survive that kind of injury without some kind of miraculous power... like the ones the Seekers held.

"Do not make me regret this," Primrose said to him, her voice quiet and harsh. She placed a hand on her chest and when she pulled it away, a bright pink friend heart appeared. There was a brief, tense, awkward staring contest between Azwel and herself before Primrose plunged the heart into him.

While he pulled himself together Primrose stood up, dark magic pooled in one hand and fire in the other. She hadn't gotten the chance to see the abilities of most of the Resistance members, even the ones she and Band had chased down, but a quick look was enough to tell the mages from the others. Trading spells with her allies in the middle wasn't something Primrose wanted to attempt. Instead she glanced at those on her team that were yet to move up. "If any of you are going in, I'll cover you."

For the moment, however, she could cover Band where he was. After passing by Yoshitsune, Es came in like a hurricane. Her greatsword flashed out to slash the detective across the front, and though he brought up a music stand to block, the crests that followed her attacks pierced through his guard. The swordswoman executed a rising diagonal slash next, followed by a triple revolving strike that carried her into the air. When she came down with a helm splitter aimed for Band’s hat, however, the savvy gumshoe took advantage of the brief opening. He deployed a cymbal defensively to parry to heavy blow, looking unimpressed. “Uh huh.” Before she could change course he jumped off the ground himself and caught her with a soundblast mid-air. “Head hunter!” Out came a huge, noisy Cymbal Crash whose Sound Stun allowed Band to deliver a giant dropkick. Es went flying; for a moment she’d be out of the picture.

Band landed on his back but picked himself up with surprising speed. He sported a few fresh slices and dents but could still fight without issue. “Ain’t nothin’ but a thing.” A fragment of burning Hot Hail hit him square in the hat, and in a hurry he removed it to fan it out. With the Witch Doctor apparently stalled by Yoshitsune for the moment, who was struggling to hold onto the tenacious Daisy, his attention fell to the center. Robin had rolled out of the way of Fox’s Impact Shot and returned the favor with Elthunder, threatening the pilot with electricity. After conjuring a fresh round of Hot Hail to smack and sear the intruders from above, Charnok unleashed a stream of fire, and Tharja hurled explosive hexes of darkness. The three-pronged magical assault forced the Seekers who remained in front to separate, but once the Arcfire that sheltered the spellcasters died down, the Phantom Thieves could move in.

“Get a load of this!” Panther yelled as she ran for the dragon mage, her whip arcing through the air to lash against his scales. With her fire resistance she could challenge Charnok without much worry, and even if his reptile hide brushed off her whip, her other talents made it a favorable match-up. Skull, meanwhile, joined Fox in trying to corner Robin, taking advantage of his own electricity resistance and a raw rushdown style to keep the tactician on his toes. That left Tharja uncontested in her curse-slinging, but only for a moment; without much regard for Azwel’s wellbeing, Kan-Ra stepped forward to take care of her. It was then that Ezio reappeared from hiding, attacking the other Grimleal lieutenant with his sword. He moved with such skill and fluidity that he forced Kan-Ra to divert his attention completely.

Azwel, meanwhile, sat up with a moan. “Ooh, hoo...what in the…?” He blinked a pair of pale yellow eyes a few times in confusion as he felt the part of his neck that no longer featured a stab wound. When he looked up he found Primrose standing over him. “Ah, and here I thought it was curtains. I suppose I have you to thank?” The researcher rose in a hurry, dusting off his robe. “For now, let’s see this little spat through, hmm?” As a stray bolt of electricity hurled his way he called forth a spear and shield of blue crystal.

"Don't mention it," the dancer told him, "at least not until we all make it out of here alive." Her gaze was concentrated on the battle in front of them, arms up and magic flying through the air to intercept as much as possible the rain of fire that Charnok had been sending down on them. Once the reptilian switched tactics she was free to launch a spell here and there where she could, sending handfuls of dark magic sailing toward their enemies, but while most of the resistance engaged in combat and focusing on others Primrose planned to make the most of the time she had now.

The first step was Sealticge's Seduction, that divine dance that allowed the benefits of one's buffs to be shared among teammates. Primrose was confident in her movements in the midst of battle, and when the dance was completed she bestowed the blessing upon herself. The next step was a seamless transition into the Mole Dance, with some help of a battle point boost. It spurred Primrose into faster movements, and when her low twirl came to an end the whole of the Seekers and their allies found themselves with a lot more defense than before.

Fox quickly shone his shield to turn around the initial shot of Elthunder and followed it on swift feet back to its caster to cover his approach. Dodging his own spell still left Robin having to somehow stop Fox's boots from meeting his chin, cheek, temple or torso. The tactician blocked as best he could the unrelenting series of kicks, and though the blows stung despite his defense, he was quick to snatch Fox in a swirl of magic and throw him backward toward the central pillar. Skull came up in the break between the two veteran Smash Brothers to see that he wouldn’t have a second’s respite, only to have his efforts brushed off and thrown aside the way of Fox. Shortly following recovery, Fox suffered dead weight knockdown from Skull bodily impacting into him. Before he got back to his feet, he dove for the Thief to throw them both out of the path of a stray great ember falling their way, then rolled to standing once more.

While he couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, Fox could tell there was something different about Robin, as he could from when they first encountered him there. An uptick in martial capability, perhaps? Whatever it was, chances were that he got something else from someone else, and that meant there was more to even the subtlest changes, he figured. He was keen to find out himself; get a better feel for it in personal combat.

“Leave him to me,” he calmly told Skull as both of them stood ready to try again. “You take the other two,” referring to the two mages that attended the tactician.

“Someone ought to give Tora and Poppi a hand,” Band suggested. Seeing Robin turn away Skull’s bludgeon with superior technique and deftly kick the boy straight into the thrown Fox, he deployed his big pedal to try and knock the tactician off his feet. “Giant Step!” In a feat of awareness, however, Robin blocked low and suffered only a momentary distraction. Then came Fox from overhead, bounding over Big Band in a full twist layout to drop feet first down at Robin with a drill stomp aimed for his head.

"I've got it," came the voice of Primrose from nearby. There was a sheen of sweat on the dancer, the combo of her performances and fire spells from both sides contributing to that. With a quick intake of air to catch her breath, Primrose slipped back and away from the others to get a better vantage point before going in to help the Nopon and Blade.

While this was happening, Es landed near Yoshitsune’s gambit. The artificial girl looked upon the hostage situation with dispassionate eyes. Since the samurai had turned to face the Witch Doctor, his back was to the Seekers, and thus to Es, as well. She saw only a chance for an easy kill. Es dashed forward and came about with an enormous cleave of her greatsword, aimed for Yoshitsune’s back.

Dropping his swords, Yoshitsune yelled for Kamui again, using his slowed perception to grab Daisy by her collar and spin, throwing her towards Es. With as much speed as he could gather, he grabbed his swords just before they hit the ground and raised them, blocking Es's slash before it hit him or the gunner. This, however, left his back facing the Witch Doctor. With all his strength, he pushed the opposing swordswoman's blade up and back, hoping to knock her off balance, before spinning again and rushing the mage. With his swords sheathed again, he attempted to grab the third woman's shirt to throw her on top of the other two.

With his unique ability Yoshitsune managed to intercept the slash from Es before her greatsword could carve into either ally or enemy, but in attempting to leverage his physical might against the girl’s the samurai found much sterner opposition. As evidenced by the way she slung around a weapon bigger and heavier than herself like it was an umbrella, Es possessed inhuman strength, more than enough to counter Yoshitsune’s attempt to break her poise. His struggle demanded both hands, allowing Daisy to free herself in an instant, and she wasted no time. The freedom fighter lashed out repeatedly at close range with her elbow, targeting her assailant’s chest, jaw, eyes, throat, whatever she could reach. Her retribution only stopped when Yoshitsune turned to address her, but not just in order to keep her shirt out of the man’s clutching hands. An explosive zombie summoned by the Witch Doctor blew up right behind him in a concussive burst of flame and viscera. Even if the bravado with which he charged into them suggested otherwise, it was clear that Yoshitsune could not fight all three at once.

Luckily, he didn’t need to. While leaping forward to for a plunging attack, Es twisted mid-air just in time to block a runaway freight train of brass and steel. The weight of Big Band’s heavy Brass Knuckle sent her skidding as he arrived in dramatic fashion to crash the party. “Back on the beat!” Knowing full well he’d be hard-pressed to contend with Es, he went on the offensive anyway to take the heat off his ally. With the Witch Doctor throwing jars of spiders and Daisy shooting on the run, however, he’d still have plenty to deal with.

As Daisy leveled her gun at the samurai, he was quick to respond with a dive out of the way before rushing her again. As she'd try to keep her aim on him, he'd get close enough to slash at her weapon, knocking it off center if not knocking from her hands. With the chance, he'd aim a kick to her head, using the metal surrounding the top of his wheel to knock her unconscious. As fast as Yoshitsune was, though, he had yet to develop an appreciation for the technology of bullets, and when the going got tough Daisy wasn’t above spraying. A handful of shells had struck the samurai by the time he struck at her weapon, some just glancing blows but a few putting painful dents in his armor. Still, he managed to take her by surprise almost as much, and though his kick didn’t knock her out it did topple him long enough to turn his attention to the conjured spiders and toads now swarming him.

Swinging his swords as fast as he could, Yoshitsune sloshed at every spider and toad that got close enough. He was also spinning his wheels to spin himself in circles, crushing any that were too close. He seemed different after his Kamui ended just about halfway through the tiny beasts.

In the midst of the steel whirlwind a new threat appeared. A zombie bloated with dark magic barreled into the mayhem, and with Yoshitsune’s Kamui down, his defensive options were limited. By the time the noxious undead exploded in a gruesome burst of foul magic and rotten blood, the Witch Doctor was filling the air with firebats. Jars shattered at Yoshitsune’s feet, leaving sharp shards to pierce his wheels even as the corpse spiders scurried forth. She enjoyed total control of the battle, polluting the fight from a safe distance to wear the samurai down in a punishing battle of attrition.

---

On the other side of the battlefield, Primrose arrived to find Tora and Poppi under duress. Fighting three strong at once left the duo struggling to defend themselves, let alone attack. Though Beast looked every inch the bruiser he amplified his brute strength with magic; flares of electricity and blinding light broke out as he hurled himself into combat. Earthquake’s massive size combined with his weapon of choice, a length of chain with a sickle on one end and a weight on the other, presented a constant problem that proved difficult to stop. Of the three Resistance fighters, however, Dante claimed the title of most dangerous. He wielded a wide variety of weapons with casual skill, switching and moving faster than Tora and Poppi could adapt. Only the fact that he seemed to be toying with them gave the dynamic duo an advantage, but even when not serious Dante provided a serious threat.

Tora and Poppi managed to hold out by taking the offensive with the blade’s evasive QT mode, striking out against their foes to keep their enemies from controlling the battle. In this way they avoided being closed in and annihilated, but they lacked the burst damage to put any of their opponents down, and sooner or later the damage would add up on Tora. Upon seeing Primrose, however, Tora tried to keep his elation to a minimum. With the Resistance fighters’ attention squarely on him, Primrose could do whatever she wished.

The dancer's eyes flashed between the three threats. The effects of her dance should last a little longer, so with that thought in mind she lifted a hand and began to conjure her wide range spell. The dark magic began to form under the Resistance member's feet, hard to notice in the dim light even if their focus wasn't on breaking Tora down. Catching her comrade's eyes, Primrose gave a sharp nod and then closed her fist, the Night Ode erupting beneath their enemies' feet.

Her plume of dark magic hit Earthquake and Beast full-force, effectively spit-roasting the heavy-hitting pair from below. Beast growled as he reeled from the sorcerous burst, while the giant ninja went as far as to release his kusarigama with one hand and massage his loins with the other, hopping up and down the whole time. “Ooh, hoo, hoo! What in Sam Hill!?”

Unfortunately, Dante avoided the attack, having been fighting so casually that he picked up on Night Ode’s tell. He shot Primrose the middle finger but turned his attention back to Tora and Poppi, and when Beast rejoined him that left only Earthquake against the dancer. When he saw her, however, the massive Texan seemed to forget his pains in lieu of remembered rage. “You again!” Weapon at the ready, he stomped Primrose’s way. “Where’s yer big fella? Ain’t gonna hide behind ‘im this time? Guess I’ll go lookin’ once I get done moppin’ the floor with ya!” Leering, he held his weapon’s chain in both hands, one below the blade and the other below the weight. “Almost a waste, messin’ up such a purdy thing. Once yer on our side, maybe I’ll show ya a different kind of action, geheheh! Yagh!” With a yell Earthquake sent out his chain sickle, a soaring crescent arc.

---

Back at the dungeon’s front, things only got more hectic. Once redirected by Fox, Skull provided just the teamwork and extra punch Panther needed to really start putting a dent in Charnok. The hooligan’s new kanabo beat out the dragon mage’s staff by a long shot, and though Charnok managed to escape the two-pronged assault with a rocket launch, things quickly took another turn for the worse. Panther and Skull moved both in sync and at high speed, cornering their foe away from his allies.

Amidst a flurry of bludgeoning and whipping he brought all his firepower to bear in a desperate last stand, but to no avail. With his arms crossed in front of him Skull powered through both Hot Hail and flamethrower, building up electricity, until he reached full charge and called upon Captain Kid to release a shower of thunderbolts. In the middle of the lightning storm Skull delivered a revolving bat slam that just about left Charnok senseless, followed up by an upswing string enough to launch him into the air. “Up to you, Panth!”

“Okay, let’s get serious!” At that moment Panther swept in, stylishly using her whip to swing down and deliver a double kick that drove Charnok into the wall. A torrent of fire breath scorched her in a last ditch attempt, but Panther would not be deterred. Snake fangs flashed as she leaned in to bite into and rip free a mouthful of scales on his forehead, then with just one hand on her whip pressed barrel of her submachine gun pressed into the raw flesh. “I won’t hold back!”

A moment later she descended to the ground in a shower of ash and embers. Charnok’s spirit landed beside her, and her friend wasted no time giving her a hi-five. “Dude, that was sick!”

Panther spat out a few red scales and returned the high five. “Thanks! Jeez, my heart’s beating like crazy. I didn’t even think before going to bite him. Must be the snake lady in me.”

“Well, keep it up, ‘cause we’re not done yet,” Skull pointed back at the fighting. “Let’s move!”

While they’d been beating down Charnok, Fox had been gaining ground against Robin. Even with the tactician’s brilliance, this was a bad match-up. His foe possessed both the speed to constantly rush him down and the tools to counter him at long range. At first he’d been able to keep Fox at bay, but starting with that drill stomp things went downhill. Somehow, Fox seemed able to anticipate what he could do. Without any allies to coordinate with, he could only do so much. That left him with just one option, even if it meant inviting further pain. “Tharja! Pair up!”

The dark sorceress acknowledged his summons by unleashing a trump card against Kan-Ra. A well of darkness formed beneath him, and from the purple-black puddle reached clawing arms to sweep away his sand, rip his bandages, and gouge his aged flesh. As he struggled to free himself, his other opponent Ezio reappeared. He plunged a hidden blade between Kan-Ra’s ribs, taking him to the ground and allowing Tharja to jump to Robin’s side. Before Ezio could finish Kan-Ra off, however, Azwel leaped in with a swing of his conjured axe. “Let us do this properly!” Ezio narrowly avoided getting bisected, then dove out of the way as Azwel hurled the axe like a discus. He launched a crossbow bolt as he rolled, then rose with sword in hand to find Azwel ready with twin scimitars. The researcher grinned, primed to relish his revenge in a display of martial prowess, and the assassin sighed. “You should have stayed down.”

Once in a Pair Up in the support position, Tharja could no longer be attacked, instead boosting her partner’s defense and evasion in exchange for only being able to attack as a follow-up to his own. Robin began phase two with a wave of Elwind air blades. Tharja’s Hex welled up beneath Fox a moment later, able to punish him if he stood still to use his reflector. The mages shared a bond even deeper and more hard-fought than the one between Panther and Skull, and as Fox would soon find out, together they were more than the sum of their parts.