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Wash away the sorrow all the stains of time
3 mos ago
Fusing into the unknown
3 mos ago
Looks like from here it, it only gets better
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8 mos ago
Forgotten footfalls, engraved in ash
9 mos ago
Stalling falling blossoms in bloom
Bio
Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
You have acquired: Mordant Dew A whole vial of the nasty, toxic venom that Stingers inject into their victims. While underwhelming at first brush, it is actually a very valuably magical and alchemical opponent, as well as one of the requisite ingredients of the Grim Talisman, a charm that -when equipped- allows the user to build up his or her special resource with every landed attack Deegahla Hide A roll of skin from flying dragonspawn, more than could conceivably be gathered from any one creature. Although it looks and works like hide, the countless tiny scales that cover its outer surface make it more durable and aesthetic than it would be otherwise. An artisan could doubtless craft it into any number of useful things
Adjunct fusion: Pendran Midna’s wolfos has scales as well as fur, with the fur coming out from beneath the scales in tufts. Its tail now arches over like a Shiba’s and the fluff on the end is long, hardened with ice into spikes. Its legs are now splayed outward and it has longer toes, allowing for more precise navigation of rough terrain. Its ears are now longer, fan out sideways like wings, and have three spikes on the ends. This spirit confers the Power Rabble Rouse, allowing it to increase the attack speed and movement speed of allies that it strikes with its tail. It also confers the Weakness Cold-weather, giving it a weakness to fire
Among the Seekers, no hero took breaks with quite the gusto that Tora did, no matter the occasion or what might be at stake. No sooner did the break command disseminate among the members of his team than the Nopon waddled straight over to a fire and plopped himself down in front of it, snug between two Greybeards already warming themselves there. “Hello friends, how are you? Nice and roasty-toasty?” He paid them no mind as they scooted away in brusque silence, instead giving all his attention to the beacon of warmth in front of him. With his limbs spread wide he soaked it in, eyes closed in bliss. “Meeeeeeh,” he cooed. “Poppi make excellent radiator on way up, and Tora really appreciate it, but nothing quite like roaring fireplace, meh.”
After offering both Greybeards an apologetic bow, the inventor’s companion seated herself by his side. While she didn’t experience cold quite like her Masterpon, Poppi’s systems suffered from prolonged exposure to the elements too, so a few minutes to warm back up would do both a world of good. And if Master Arngeir’s account of the Inner-Mountain in store for them at the end of this brief respite was no exaggeration, they would need every modicum of heat in their bodies that they could get. Of course, Poppi was loath to spoil the enjoyable moment with talk of more hardship yet to come, so she just sat with her legs crossed upon the stone floor, leaning against Tora as he leaned against her, and thought. Going through the trial that had been Baur’s Reach and knowing that even worse was to come would dampen the spirits of just about anyone, but somehow the Nopon seemed content. Even if she could see the world from a more logical and unbiased perspective than her creator, she saw the wisdom in his simple philosophy. A daunting road lay ahead of them, but rather than spend the present in worry for the future, her Masterpon chose to take his days one minute at a time, savoring each bit of happiness that came his way. How very Tora, she concluded, and with a smile she scratched his back.
A few quiet, peaceful minutes passed by. The pair kept still, listening to the crackle of firewood and the murmurs of their friends throughout High Hrothgar. Not once during that time did they hear any Graybeard besides their spokesperson Arngeir speak. At first Tora thought that they might just be unfriendly, since a number of the old men sported grizzled, severe countenances that made one think twice about exchanging pleasantries, but the elders didn’t even converse among themselves. Eventually, the Nopon posed the question to his companion. “Everyone here very quiet, don’t you think?”
“Mm-hm,” Poppi agreed, her tone hushed. “Maybe they take vow of silence. This strike Poppi as some sort of religious order, sort of like Grimleal in Al Mamoon, or Indoline Praetorium.”
Tora nodded sagaciously in agreement. “Meh, meh. Good point! Tora wonder what they worship. Grimleal worship evil dragon Grima, right? And Praetorium worship Titans, including Indol itself, which is also dragon. Maybe beardypons worship dragons, too?” He glanced over his shoulder on impulse, but after a few uneventful moments spent looking around it seemed like nobody would sidle up to offer some convenient exposition. Oh well.
Now that she knew Tora didn’t mind conversation, Poppi pursued another subject. “So, how Masterpon faring? What think of climb so far?”
“Not too bad,” the Nopon replied with a shrug. “Not like cold, of course, but thanks to Poppi, Tora not need drag undercarriage through snow, meh. Although, it kind of feel like friends are going…too fast, if that make sense?”
The question appeared to excite Poppi a little. “Oh, Masterpon feel it too? Poppi was wondering if it was silly thought, it but it feel almost like shame we have to run through beautiful place, past all sorts of interesting things we maybe should attend to. Like poor man in statue. Of course we have mission to do, and cold make it hard to stick around, but Poppi can’t help but be curious.”
“Exactly! Tora always wonder if we walk right by shiny-sparkly treasures without ever knowing. After all, when on adventure with Rex-Rex and friends, we find treasures most anywhere we look! Or at least, stuff for cooking and crafting, meh.” Sensing that his time was about over, and plenty warm by now anyway, Tora picked himself off the ground before he could start sweating in his overalls. “And Poppi not need worry. Tora think enough silly thoughts for both of us!”
The two made their way through High Hrothgar at a leisurely pace, doing their best not to get lost in all of the more or less identical stone brick halls. As a result they reached the Seekers’ meeting point without issue, where they found a small group already formed. Big Band stood over them all, at ease thanks to a little time spent tuning himself up by the braziers to warm his frosty cheeks and get his B♭ oil mixture flowing again. His companion Peacock, however, looked less than pleased. As Tora waddled up, he sent a concerned look her way. “Hi hi. Everything alright, meh?”
“Naw, see,” Peacock began. “I’ve just about had it up to here with this stinkin’ mountain, ya get me? Nothin’ but snow, snow, ice, and more snow! I mean, good grief. Ain’t a lick of fun in the whole joint! I’ve got two halves a mind sayin’ I oughta blow the joint and watch cartoons back in Tacoville.”
Band furrowed his brows. “Cry me a river, Pea. I know it ain’t sunshine an’ roses up here, butcha can’t jus’ turn tail when things get rough. Some of us don’t got a choice in the matter. What about buildin’ character?”
“Character’s what they got on T.V., gramps,” Peacock informed the detective, her arms crossed and a matter-of-fact look on her face. “You’ll be fiiiiine. Just gimme a ring when you’ve found yer mawl, alright? Then I’ll pop right up and clean its clock!”
She produced and swung around a bat as if to demonstrate, causing Band to shake his head in resignation. It was at that time that Mao appeared, wearing a frown as he stepped forward to get Band’s attention. “Actually, count me out too.”
The big man blinked twice. “You sure you ain’t messin’ around? It looked like you were handlin’ yourself jus’ fine, son.”
Mao put on an expression of annoyance. “I’m not your son, or a kid for that matter, and be that as it may, climbing the mountain is a waste of my valuable time and energy. I’ve got plenty I can do in the meantime. Weapons to mod, experiments to run, stuff to figure out about this interesting little world we’ve ended up in. When you need me to come up and kill this thing for you, I’ll know.”
Band sighed. “Whatever you say, son. Just make sure you keep your hand on the plow.” After Mao sauntered off, he scanned the rest of those who’d arrived to carry on through the next leg of the voyage. The Phantom Thieves stood ready, their attire as dry and snow-free as could be. Midna seemed eager to proceed, having made the most of what she’d gleaned during the trip through Baur’s Reach. Everyone else kept their counsel, either reluctant to share their answers or confident in the presence of their tacit understanding. Band deployed his mechanical arm and laid its brass knuckle against High Hrothgar’s steely back door. “If you’re callin’ it quits, use the gliders I passed out earlier an’ fly back down to town.”
“Make sure to get ferrystone so you can warp up to join us later!” Poppi reminded them.
“Right.” Band nodded. “Everyone else? Let’s boogie.”
It was dark in the tunnels, and cold. Cold even in comparison to the wintry heights outside around High Hrothgar, which for all their frigid bleakness at least lay beneath the light of the sun. Torches collected from the braziers by the tunnel’s mouth, courtesy of the Graybeards’ prudence, allowed the Seekers to beat back the pitch black that awaited them, but their paltry heat could not quell the chill. With the tunnel only so wide, Tora and Poppi took point both for the sake of defense and illumination, since the fiery glow of the various lights on the artificial blade’s body provided a more constant light than the sputtering torches. Beside them floated Necronomicon, releasing intermittents bloops as her scanner pinged the inscrutable tunnel ahead for any sign of danger. Joker and Panther followed right behind them, their literal and metaphoric firepower at hand should the need arise, but no nasty surprises reared their ugly heads. It was, against all odds, smooth sailing.
Until they spotted light ahead, and advanced into the first cave only to be faced with a startling sight. Bluish rays poured down through distant cracks to reveal not just the classic icy bottomless pit, and not just a frozen zig-zag bridge spanning it, but also a monstrous titan trapped in the ice. He loomed from the wall in all his enormity, all sickly, yellowish, scabrous skin and hornlike ridges. Even Big Band stood no taller than the bridge of his nose. His eyes were shut and no warm breath issued from his lips, but whether he hung there in death or mere cryosleep, Big Band couldn’t rightly say. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Startin’ off with a bang, huh,” he whispered. “Well, folks. Watch your step, and for the love of all that’s holy, keep quiet!”
After some prodding from Poppi Tora shuffled forward onto the ice bridge, where he spread his wings out for balance. He took one final look at the titan, under whose very nose he would need to tiptoe, gulped, and took the first step of his new and terrifying journey into the mountain’s heart.
As the soft snowdrifts and picturesque sleepy woodland of Baur’s reach gave way to ever more hazardous and uneven terrain, the merry band of seekers steadily drifted further apart. It was a naturally and subtly induced eventuality, borne of such simple and unspoken assumptions like the desire to not get in one another’s way, to not overtax already burdened means of traversal like loose rocks, breakable ice, or cold-stiffened branches, or even the hard-to-suppress childlike urge to tramp upon untouched snow. Other than designated comrades like the Phantom Thieves, the Tora Poppi duo, and the paired travelers Primrose and Therion, they made no particular efforts to clump back together, either. Although nobody could say that the going was either easy or comfortable, the relative lack of danger and difficulty made Big Band’s warnings begin to look rather like paranoia, and besides, most of those present had every reason to be confident in both themselves and one another. What seasoned fighter, after all, could be defeated by a little cold and rough terrain?
Bit by bit, however, Baur’s reach put its visitors’ self-assurance and lack of coordination to the test. It took firsthand experience to realize that the jaw plants grew not just on trees and rocks, but beneath the snow, too, and they closed like bear traps. The slender lures of angler plants, so easily mistaken for meltwater, caught more than one unwary adventurer even after the example set by Tora. Snow covered thinly frozen ponds here and there, with only the flatness of the area hinting at the danger, and any foot that went through the ice demanded immediate attention.
Once isolated, often out of sight of one another, the Seekers found it more troublesome to pick fights with the locals, too. The Snowmads and the wildlife, adapted for the environment, shrugged off the conditions that the newcomers struggled through, and knew the area like the backs of their proverbial hands. Once the Phantom Thieves realized how much more trouble the encounters were than they were worth, they elected to avoid battles completely, instead trusting in stealth to get them past the odd camp that lay in their path. Higher up in the Reach, Dirt Divers began to appear as well, bursting up from the ground in potent surprise attacks only to disappear below again just as quickly.
Not even the fliers got off scot-free; thorn-covered branches and dangerously sharp icicles plagued their every motion, with the beat of wings and the wind of one’s passage liable to disturb the piled snow that blanketed coniferous boughs and send down pillowy masses weighing hundreds of pounds. If they chose to forsake the snowy forests and heights of the Reach, they would find that the howling wind above the treetops made it a fight for every meter. Whether or not that seemed like a fair price to pay was a choice left to them.
Sooner or later, the nature of the trial they had undertaken dawned on just about everyone. They knew that this mountain climb would be neither easy nor simple, and now they were finding out why. By the time the heroes racked up an hour and a quarter in the Reach, their chipper journey had become a slog, substantially more difficult than the trek up through Redstone City. Though not a disaster or anything, it left each and every Seeker worse for wear. Numb extremities, chapped lips, fatigue, clothes dampened by snow that body heat melted, and throats roughened by hyperventilation of frigid air were commonplace. Long past the last stubborn redwood that watched over its fair-weather brethren like a lone sentinel, up where the pines thinned out and the olive trees withered, the group came to a stop and gradually gathered on the ridge where Midna espied the strange sight of warped man in a prison of iron.
Gémino made for a dreadful sight, to put it mildly. Immobile but for the free arm that protruded so unsettlingly from an opening in the statue’s midsection, he was totally at the mercy of both the elements and the fetters that bound him, so artfully engineered for the purpose of exquisite torment. Yet he was alive, as the eye contact he shared with Jesse proved. When the Twilight Princess moved to aid him, her little hands sliding across the metal in search of openings, his free arm bade her stop. “Oh, do not fret for me,” he told her, his voice a plaintive moan. “The cold is merciful, for it relieves our pain and numbs us before it leads us to our deaths. Perhaps the Miracle that others spoke of has come to me, here in this iron tomb, lengthening distress more and more…”
Big Band ceased dusting snow from his trench coat to tug at his collar, uncomfortable. Despite his incredibly unenviable situation, this poor soul sounded anything but distressed; in fact, he seemed oddly at peace with the grisly fate that appeared to have befallen him. Probably for the best, Band figured, since anyone could tell that this man’s days were numbered. Still, his pleas for Midna and the other heroes to leave him alone likely fell on deaf ears, since who among them could possibly accept someone suffering like this, and turn a blind eye to such a cruel display?
“‘Scuse me for puttin’ it bluntly, but you can’t be serious,” Band objected with an incredulous shake of his head. “You’re really okay goin’ out like this?”
“Naught could be more immaterial than my feelings on the matter,” the prisoner decreed.
“But…surely there something we can do to help?” Tora asked, his dark eyes full of sorrow. “Food, water, little heat maybe?”
“These remains would feel no such succor,” Gémino mourned. “Yet, there is something. Let me ask you the favor of bringing me a few drops of the oils that once came out of these icy olive trees, the ones that ended up scorching the faces of every pious person who ever reached the place where the frozen and the burning embrace in communion.” Gémino looked off into the distance, his eyelashes heavy with frost. “As my last wish, before it is too late for me, let me feel that pain.”
From his hand he dropped a small object that shone bright in the afternoon sunlight before it disappeared into the snow at his feet. A little digging turned up a golden thimble, tiny but beautiful–the vessel for the oil Gémino desired.
“Now, let my numbed arm become another branch on this withered olive tree,” the prisoner murmured. “Hurry up. I can still hear the call.”
Further communication proved useless, despite Tora’s best attempts, so with everyone now gathered from their divergent routes across the Reach there was little to do but press on. Not long after leaving Gémino and the trees behind, the way narrowed along the mountainside, and the heroes found the semblance of a path carved into the stone. Following it upward for another ten minutes or so through the biting wind brought them to the steps of an imposing stone brick structure nestled among the crags. It bore neither fortifications nor guards, which to Band suggested that it wasn’t a military structure. An empty chest lay at the foot of the stairs, surrounded by various meager offerings. When the group’s frontrunners climbed the steps and pushed on the place’s iron doors, they encountered no more resistance than their weight.
Inside the Seekers discovered a shelter fully outfitted with furniture, from bookshelves and urns to tables and chairs to hearths that blazed with delightful warmth. So too did they find company when a number of curious, wrinkled faces turned their way. Scattered around the place was a cadre of hooded elders, and though they scrutinized the newcomers thoroughly, not one of them said a word. After a moment some even returned to their various activities, including reading and some form of worship. One, however, strode the Seekers’ way. His concerned gaze lingered for a moment on the Phantom Thieves, Raz, and other young members, their presence constituted an irresponsible mistake on someone’s part.
“Good day to you, travelers, and welcome to our sanctuary,” he told the team. “I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. We will not question your coming, but if you come in peace, the hospitality of High Hrothgar is yours.”
Band took his hat off with a mechanical arm and gave a nod of gratitude. “Thank you kindly, mister. After wadin’ through all that ice an’ snow,’ a li’l hospitality is sorely needed.” He took another look around, searching for anything of note, but as far as the detective could see the Greybeards practiced rather ascetic lives. “We’re climbin’ the mountain, headin’ for the summit. Don’t suppose you got any advice?”
The news weighed on Arngeir, prompting a look of mixed worry and surprise. “The summit? And with so many? ‘Tis certainly no journey for the faint of heart. Rather than scale the icy stone, you would be better served by braving the Inner-Mountain. The tunnel lies just beyond this place, on the right. Find and repair the lift, and if your collective weight is not too great, you may enjoy swift egress from the interior.”
“Repair what Tora do best, meh!” the snow-sprinkled Nopon chirped, waving his wrench around. “Other than eat, sleep, invent, play Tiger-Tiger, upgrade Poppi…list go on.”
Arngeir’s brow furrowed. “Be warned, however. While the Inner-Mountain will hinder you with neither wind nor snow, it is a place that has never known warmth.”
“We hear ya,” Band assured him, and with a nod the Greybeard left the newcomers in peace. The detective looked around at the group, making sure that nobody was missing. “Let’s make sure we’re warm an’ dry. Might also be your last chance to think about whether or not ya really wanna be doin’ this. No shame headin’ back down with a glider now and backin’ us up later.” Peacock opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but Band rolled right over her. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ we’ve got any weak links here or nothin’. Just think about it. If you’re down, meet out back in half an hour.”
Poppi nodded. “Roger, roger!”
With that, the team dispersed. Whether they chose to park themselves by various fires or explore High Hrothgar, the heroes had thirty minutes to recuperate while they made their decisions.
The passage of many sets of feet quickly turned the pristine powder snow, sculpted as smooth as ice cream by the wind and gently auroral in the rosy pink light of Baur’s Reach, into a mosaic of prints large and small. Everyone moved at their own pace, bounding over the drifts and through the trees, up slippery inclines and stony outcrops. Rather than a straightforward forested slope, the mountain presented the heroes with uneven terrain that formed cliffs, walls, and gaps unexpectedly, making traversal less than straightforward. The bigger members of the team encountered more resistance from the snow, but with Braum quite used to freezing climates and Big Band’s legs longer than they looked beneath his trench coat, nobody had it quite as bad as Tora. His stubby legs meant that his underbelly dragged through the snow constantly, and a set of overalls could only do so much to quell the chill. Even with the air clear and the winds mild, he ended up turning to Poppi much sooner than he expected to beg a piggy-back ride, and when faced with his big, pleading eyes the artificial blade couldn’t help but concede.
Cozy in her X-naut costume and ready for a cold-weather climb atop her trusty wolfos, Midna instantly got distracted by the nearby lanterns. Compelled by her curiosity, she took her focus off the journey for a few moments in favor of ferrying a burning branch to and fro in order to stab it into each inert stone lantern in the vicinity. Whenever she lit one, it floated off its pedestal in a wave of warmth that permeated its surroundings in an area, not so much as to restore patches of summer to a land gripped by winter, but enough to shrink the snow somewhat and thaw anything frozen in ice. Single-minded in her mission to solve the puzzle, Midna did not wait to see each lantern’s effect, but raced her shaggy stood over to the next. Only when all five stone-age radiators burned did she turn to admire her handiwork.
The lanterns’ heat freed a couple smaller ponds from ice, turning them to pools of crystal-clear glacial runoff, fresh and pure. At the bottom of one lay the unmistakable shape of a treasure chest, simple wood with rusted metal hinges and clasps, but a trove nonetheless. Inside was a paired set of daggers, one long and one short. The snow’s retreat from another lantern also laid bare a small campsite, its tent long since caved in and frozen over. A handful of books and matches lay within, alongside a can of beans. However, the warmth also thawed out a strange structure mistakable at first glance as a frozen bush or tree. Once freed, however, the Stinger Hive released its noxious gasses, and in a fit of vulgar pulsation, disgorged its venomous host. A swarm of Stingers six strong, each the size of a chimpanzee, flew out to inject their victims with shots of deleterious Mordant Dew.
“Ambush! Behind us!”
At Necronomicon’s alert the Phantom Thieves wheeled about from their attempt to climb up and around the waterfall cliff. They jolted into action, spreading out as they sized up the incoming threat before whipping out their guns. With a squint Joker made doubly sure that no allies appeared to be in the line of fire, then gave the command. “Blast ‘em!”
A fusillade of revolver, submachine gun, slingshot, and rifle rounds hurtled the Stingers’ way. The oversized bugs moved in short, fast bursts, which would have made melee combat troublesome, but at the moment left them vulnerable to saturation fire. Peacock joined and cut loose with her own revolver, shooting with her pinky extended. The salvo ended as Skull charged, sliding on his knees down the hill across the snow to deliver an up-close-and-personal shotgun blast and blow the final Stinger apart. “Haha, get wrecked!”
Of course, just a few seconds later a fresh crop of Stingers poured from the hive, demanding a more permanent solution. Those on their way to help but too late to deal with the first wave, like Tora, Poppi, and Big Band, lent a hand with the second, as well as the demolition of the hive. It took a decent amount of punishment but went down without too much issue, exploding into sticky chunks after a finale of fiery missiles from Tora’s Mech Arms. “Whew!” he said. “Tora not expect problems in snow level to be bugs and plants. Especially such easy ones, meh!”
“Don’t get complacent,” Band cautioned everyone. “This time we smoked ‘em, but next time we might not be so lucky.”
As the team moved on, Fox stopped by the monument that burned by the waterfall, from which Midna originally sourced her firebrand. “So these things can alter the temperature of their surroundings,” he mused, using an arm to shield his eyes from the ice-cold spray. With a flick of his wrist, he called forth Goemon in a splendid azure flare. “I’m curious if they work in reverse.” At his bidding his Persona cast Bufula on the lantern, and just as he expected it went dark with a pulse of cold. Instantly the pond iced over, but in an unusual turn of events the waterfall flash-froze too, becoming a jagged and uneven curtain of ice along the cliff face.
Joker gave a nod of approval. “We can use that to climb up.”
“Nice thinkin’, dude!” Skull grinned, subjecting his friend to a high five.
Using their jumping ability to dash through the air as black blurs, the thieves hopped up the frozen waterfall, one foothold at a time. Anyone with similar abilities could follow suit, and Tora though Sora certainly wanted to, Poppi reasoned that her thrusters might damage the footholds. Instead, with any spent ether easily replenished, she just boosted up there with him normally.
After another minute or so spent hiking uphill through Baur’s Reach, the group came upon a chasm, carved by a frigid river as it ran down the mountain. The other side stood a couple dozen feet higher, making an already long jump that much harder, but Band had an idea. “Need a hand over here!” he shouted, calling attention over to a redwood that sat along the top of the cliff. He deployed and delivered a Brass Knuckle to the trunk, splintering through enough wood to start the whole tree leaning closer to the edge. With a little help from any strong-bodied volunteers he could bring the thing down, and the Seekers had their bridge.
The team continued onward, climbing through the frozen forest at a diagonal angle to keep things manageable. When the trees and crags happened to open up behind them they could get a good view of how far they’d come already, with the tops of a couple fall-colored redwoods already beneath them. For now things weren’t too steep, so the terrain continued to be interesting, along with all the endemic life the heroes encountered there. Gaggles of Snorunt trudged here and there, Ovis dug for food with their hooves, white rabbits hopped about, and at one point a huge Quetzal soared way overhead. Monsters inhabited the place too, including Pendrans and Snowstorm Goobbues, so it paid to be wary. The heroes also spotted a couple camps either along or directly in their way, all populated by a crew of ornery Snowmads spoiling for a fight. Each boasted Fluffs, Tucks with spears and bows, Hootz scouts, and usually one Waldough per camp acting as leader. Nothing particularly memorable crossed the Seekers’ path until the frontrunners happened upon an unusual tree. This one, atop a snow-covered knoll that stood above the surrounding area, was leafless and brown. The fruit frozen to its branches marked it as a withered olive tree, but against it leaned an iron statue studded by arrows, and from an opening in its head peered a lone eye out from beneath the white hair of the man imprisoned within.
The Chalk Prince, the Fallen Child, and the Skullgirl
To bear witness to someone else weeping was a strange experience for Albedo. A behavior most commonly associated with infants and otherwise borne of intense sorrow or pain, it alarmed him onto his feet for a moment, making him fret that the trio of visitors to Treat’s chilly manor might have upset her somehow, and dealt even more damage to the wolfgirl’s already-fragile emotional state. Her words, however, made it clear that her tears came not from sadness, but from joy, which set Albedo’s heart at ease. As she continued to bawl he sat back down and relaxed, a soft smile on his face. It looked like his little group’s efforts got through to her, after all.
While the alchemist was content to remain at a distance, Frisk took a more hands-on approach to make sure that Treat truly got a sense of her new acquaintances’ care for her. Hugs were simple things, and for those to whom their dispensation came easily, they truly worked wonders. Despite the fallen child being much smaller than her, Treat rested her head on Frisk’s shoulder, squeezing tight as she exhausted her long-held tears. Nearby, Linkle scooted forward too, offering apologies that the wolfgirl quickly deemed unnecessary and a hand in fellowship that Treat unconditionally accepted. When she finally extracted herself from Frisk’s embrace, she sank down by the fire alongside her new friends, overwhelmed and a complete mess but very happy, indeed.
By that time Albedo was gone, having retraced his steps through the frigid mansion to the sled that Linkle left outside. If they planned to spend more time here, they would need more firewood, and since the rabbit-eared archeress already offered her logs as fuel for the fire the alchemist saw no harm in fetching them. Better that he leave the three to their heartfelt moment, warm in the glow of Treat’s unusual hearth, than give one of them the chance to break it up and trudge back out into the cold. As he collected the logs, Albedo’s smile persisted, although his eyes held a touch more melancholy than joy. It made him glad to see that even someone as lonely and depressed as Treat, who until moments ago seemed convinced that her life would be one devoid of love, could find happiness and companionship in the kindness of strangers. Humans were social creatures after all, whether or not they had ears, tails, or horns. No matter the distance between them, it seemed that they could come together.
So where did that leave him?
With the little logs stacked in his arms, Albedo crunched up the snow-crusted stairs and back into the Beneviento House. He spared one more idle glance at the painting that hung over the staircase with its distractingly ghoulish doll. Taken alongside the other dolls scattered both around the mansion and the path that preceded it, with their lidless eyes always staring whether from a display case or a hangman’s noose, the eerie toys lent the place an ominous air. He had hypothesized that Treat colonized this place on account of that underlying dread which led the townsfolk of Snowdin to leave it well alone, but that demanded the caveat that this place harbored no residents of its own. With all those dolls around, how alone could one really feel here? Someone as nervous as Treat must constantly be looking over her shoulder, checking to make sure that no, that one in the corner of her eye hadn’t moved, that one up on the shelf wasn’t actually looking at her. He couldn’t help but posit that the creepy atmosphere might be a contributing factor to the decline of Treat's mental wellbeing. It wasn’t like the conditions here seemed particularly liveable, either. That pointed toward a singular conclusion, and Albedo resolved to confront the others with it when he could.
After rejoining the others the alchemist put the logs into the fire. Unlike the boxes of toys and such that bore the Little Inferno logo, the wood did not spit out golden coins at any point of the combustion process. They did, however, provide a lot of warmth, enough even to reach Albedo over on the couch, and they lasted much, much longer than anything Treat had on hand. Seeing the comparison brought even more questions to mind about Little Inferno’s business practice given the sheer quantity of product that needed to be burned to actually keep warm, but since the discussion wouldn’t do much good now Albedo just made a mental note and kept quiet.
Once some time passed and there came a lull in the conversation, from which Albedo had abstained up until that point, he chimed in with his idea from earlier. “Excuse me, Treat. I must apologize for bringing this up, since I am sure that this must be a personal subject for you, but after seeing this place I could not help but to wonder. I get the impression that your residency here is an outcome borne from necessity rather than preference. While extensive and, admittedly, rather invasive tests would be necessary to confirm my suspicions, I believe that dwelling here may actually be detrimental to your condition, both mentally and physically speaking. This brings me to my question.” He averted his gaze from the wolf girl and looked around the room. “Do you like living here?”
Treat narrowed her eyes, thinking. “Well…I suppose there’s no reason to hide it. It’s honestly not great.” She shivered and inched closer to the fire. “It’s old, it’s freezing, there are cobwebs everywhere, and all the dolls…eugh. I even hear noises from the basement sometimes. But when I think about the rabbitfolk…well, compared to being around them, it’s not that bad.”
Albedo’s eyes had widened slightly. “Excuse me?”
“I know, I probably sound crazy,” Treat sighed, giving a halfhearted laugh. “But they really don’t want me around, and it’s no use trying to convince them I mean no harm. So if I’m up here, everyone’s better off.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Albedo told her, then received an odd look that prompted further clarification. “Rather, that matter is important of course, and we will address it, but what exactly do you mean by ‘noises from the basement’?”
“Oh, that!” Treat looked almost embarrassed. “Well, I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m just imagining it. Once in a while I hear thumps or groans, but when I finally went down to check, I didn’t find anything. So yeah, just in my head. That’s just how it is with old places like this, right?
Albedo shook his head. “I do not believe so, no. Maybe we should take a look for ourselves, just to be sure.” He glanced at the others. “Or, if that sounds unnecessary, we could broach the subject of finding her somewhere better to live, and making sure that she won’t be disturbed.” His gaze landed on Frisk. “You mentioned a desire to convince the rabbitfolk to mend their unkind ways, did you not?”
With nearly two dozen people around who could put their heads together in order to get to the bottom of the team’s bear predicament, Tora decided to give his weary bones some much-needed, much-deserved rest. He found a comfortable pile of leaves to use like a bean bag chair and parked himself there to catch his breath, filling his lungs with wonderfully crisp air. Despite two whole days spent exploring the Sandswept Sky, trudging, trundling, and battling through its sweltering heat, he just couldn’t get used to such an inhospitable climate. Poppi no doubt felt the same, with the hot, sandy environment taking a constant toll on her systems that demanded continuous counteraction, and in truth Tora worried a lot more about her than his own comfort. All said, even the toasty badlands of Mor Ardain seemed nicer by comparison, which was saying something. Sure, it had been an incredible trip and all, especially the whimsical candyland around Parnasse and the majestic city of Al Mamoon, but exposure to a more temperate climate reminded the Nopon just how badly he wanted to call this place quits and go somewhere nicer.
“Ahhh,” he sighed in relief. “Nice, refreshing breeze make Tora big happypon.”
Standing beside his leaf pile, Poppi patted his head. “It nice to give internal regulators break. Still, where we going it going to get very cold, very fast. Please enjoy while Masterpon can.”
Tora sighed again, this one a bit heavier than the last. The obligation of a Seeker of Light meant expeditions into ever more dangerous and unfriendly places, overcoming both terrible odds and conditions for the sake of the mission. He couldn’t see into the future, but he could look up past redwood boughs, swishing fall-color leaves, and snow-flaked crags at the literal mountain of hardships that awaited him. Finally escaping the awful desert heat only to end up missing it a couple hours later would be a stroke of irony. No matter where he went on this adventure, things probably weren’t going to get much better–just a different shade of stressful. “Grass always greener on other side,” he grumbled, but even if the road ahead looked tough, he didn’t plan to pack it in. He’d come a long way from Tora the Hermit, the Nopon who slogged through each day in isolation waiting for his ship to finally come in. Rather than fixate on the future in hopes of a paradise that might never come, he could savor the little moments of peace and company, like lying in a bed of leaves in the dappled sunlight and brisk air of this autumnal forest of colossi. The Nopon’s breathing steadied, and with his wings tucked snugly around his body he listened to the others debate what to do next.
Yoshitsune, who it seemed had decided to persist in accompanying the group despite the exceptional difficulty that the mountain climb promised him, favored fighting the brown-furred behemoth that blocked the Seekers’ path if nobody could communicate with him. Big Band greeted his ideas with skepticism, since they banked on the bear sleeping so deeply that not even direct attacks would wake him, or that someone capable of animal speech could rouse the beast when all other attempts at waking him went unheard. In a similar vein, Sectonia suggested mind control, though that amounted to an attack and came with the condition that the entire group pitch in to stop the creature from moving.
“Fight him? Brainwash him” Tora interjected, horrified. “How rude! How you feel if you just napping peacefully, and suddenly along come meanypons and attack for no reason? Also, big bear Gleaming, so if we hurt him it become battle to death! It not bear fault he in way, so no need be cruel, especially since friends are heroes!” That statement, of course, rubbed Mao the wrong way, but the demon kept quiet for now.
Sora countered with a different strategy, which unbeknownst to either him or the detective actually saw use by the team when confronted with the wall of ruins two days prior. Since then, however, the group had grown a whole lot, and not everyone could be carried by the gang’s resident fliers. Plus, even assuming generous use of Jesse’s Tool Gun, such a plan still didn’t account for resistance from the mountain itself.
“We gotta keep A, together, and B, a low profile,” Band was saying. “Far as we know, this whole place is one big accident waitin’ to happen, and who knows what kinda enemies we might find. The way I see it, our fliers are like insurance. They can rescue folks who fall or get in trouble, or get us around a problem when there’s no other way. Call me paranoid all y’all want, but we can’t afford to spend ‘em if it ain’t an emergency.”
Joker, having been pondering the situation with crossed arms, gave a nod. “Besides, this is the first puzzle we’ve run into on our way up the mountain. If someone’s taking a test and has to cheat on the very first problem, maybe he shouldn’t take the test.”
“Sho ‘nuff. We oughta try everythin’ we can.” Band declared. He turned to face the bear and began to deploy his instruments. “Luckily, I got rhythm. Let’s see if I can’t make ‘em dream a li’l dream of me.”
The detective produced his saxophone and began to play. With an expert hand he manipulated his instrument’s keys, popping open and shut the little holes all along its length to control the pitch and fill the redwoods with blues. When his audience snored, he merely played over it, putting body and soul into such a lively, motive solo that Tora couldn’t suppress the urge to leap from his bed of leaves, with Poppi right on his heels. They needed to exchange no words to understand that music lit a fire inside each of their spirits that couldn’t be extinguished. As if all their fatigue had been washed away the pair launched into dance, totally unsuited for the music but wholly from the heart. All too soon the performance came to an end, and with it both Poppi’s jig and Tora’s frolic. Unfortunately, despite the music and affection shown to him, the bear snoozed on. Band stowed his sax and shrugged. “Ah, well. Not a bad note, at least!”
“Tora thinks he enjoyed it!” the Nopon reassured the musician. To him at least, it looked as though the beast smiled in his slumber.
The Phantom Thieves, meanwhile, had continued to workshop a solution. Finally, Skull snapped his fingers. “Wait, hold up! Mona, your guy Zorro’s got a spell that can wake someone up, right?”
Mona shook his giant head. “Not wake someone up, necessarily. Patra cures Sleep when it’s inflicted as an ailment.”
“Huh?! Waking up is the same damn thing as not sleeping!” Skull insisted. “Give it a try, at least!”
To the catlike thief’s chagrin, he went through with his ally’s suggestion, summoning his Persona to cast Me Patra on the dormant bear before them. A pillar of gentle blue light shone for a moment, then faded, but when it was gone the creature slept on, blissfully unaware that anything happened. Mona shot Skull an annoyed glance. “There, just like I said, only now I’ve lost more mana. Listen to me next time, dummy!”
Skull spun around to glare down at him. “Hey, get off my back! At least I’m thinkin’ of stuff!”
“You sure that’s what you’re doing?”
Before things could escalate any further, Panther stepped in. “Mona, please. Chill out.”
The little thief’s manner changed completely. “Whatever you say, Lady Ann!”
Hearing it just about made Skull’s eyes roll out of their sockets, and Panther’s weren’t far behind. She directed a helpless shrug Skull’s way, and with a grunt he turned his attention back to the task at hand.
At around that time, a sudden shout reached the group from a short ways off. Everyone turned to see none other than Laharl collapse among the branches and leaves, coated in sweat and dust from his run through the Rider-filled canyons of Redstone City. Tora sprinted over as fast as his little legs could carry him. “Never fear, no-shirtypon! Nopon Rescue Service on the way!” By virtue of nothing more than helping pick Laharl up off the ground, Tora somehow restored thirty percent of his vitality.
Right after the demon found himself blasted with a splash of water from Poppi’s Mech Arm, meant to shock his body into action as much as to quench his thirst. “Poppi thought you abandon team!” the artificial blade mentioned. “It good to see you again!” The same couldn’t be said by Mao, who smirked at his rival as Laharl shivered from his dousing.
While a few team members helped Laharl, Raz and Midna enacted their one plan, a two-pronged approach that involved physical contact. The aspiring psychonaut stroked the giant bear, which by itself did nothing but keep the creature happy, while the Twilight Princess went for his big, black nose. With some leaves she tickled its nose, which again prompted the reaction she noticed earlier, but by itself turned out to be insufficient. Dialing the tickles up a notch with the introduction of some feathery hair, however, provoked a much more notable response. The bear jerked slightly with a series of sharp inhales, then finally unleashed a terrific sneeze so powerful that it not only sent anyone directly in front of him tumbling away, but shot the bear himself backward. He slid a few hundred meters before coming to a stop in a bank of snow even bigger than himself, and through the cave opening poured light.
The tunnel itself proved to be very short, but it precipitated a remarkable change in the environment. Stepping out of it brought the heroes’ feet down upon snow, pillowy and cold, and when they took stock of their new surroundings, they looked upon a white forest bathed in soft, ephemeral pink by sunlight filtered through marshmallow clouds, their eyes wide in wonderment of winter.
Stage Two - Baur’s Reach
Click for music
As they watched, the bear rose from the snow drift where he lay into a sitting position. He loomed over them, his eyes aglow and his shaggy mane fraught with icicles, but his expression held no malice. When he opened his muzzle he spoke in a strange, booming tongue, but the meaning of his words echoed in the newcomers’ minds.
”I dreamt of your arrival. But you are too late. And this land is too hard, too cold. The spring blossoms sleep under the ice, high upon the mountain peak. There is nothing to do... but sleep.”
So saying, Baur laid his great bulk back down, and his eyes closed once more.
With the possibility of being attacked gone, the tension faded, and Big Band allowed himself to relax. He let out his breath in a long, low whistle. “Whew. I dunno what I expected, but this sure wasn’t it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Panther murmured, mesmerized. Towering trees arose from the snow-covered slopes as the land inclined further upward, creating rosy light rays of uncommon splendor. Here and there the terrain evened out enough to permit the existence of icy pools, interwoven together by brooks and rivers. The largest among them even featured a mist-veiled waterfall, pouring down from a higher section of mountain. Here and there stood lantern monuments, mostly unlit except for the one next to the waterfall, which not only burned but also floated above its pedestal like miniature planet, orbited by pieces of stone. It was a magical scene, but with the magic came a strong chill. Though not bitter cold, anyone without insulation would probably want to layer up, and none more than Panther. “Joker, can I have my coat now?”
As he withdrew it from his Inventory, Band gave some advice. “Now’s the time to put on those cloak thingies we borrowed from the sports shop.” He passed them out to anyone who came his way, quickly running through his stock of seventeen. The mantles would work well to keep the cold out, at least at this relative altitude, but without sleeves they would need to be thrown over the shoulder to allow for the use of one’s hands. With everyone clad in their shin-length gray mantles, they sort of matched his trench coat, too. Once everyone was warmly clothed, they could proceed. “Alright, let’s watch each others’ backs now, y’hear?”
The Phantom Thieves set off immediately, not on their own but giving the rest some room to breathe while preserving line of sight. Once Poppi switched to her Fire core, Tora bounced off through the snow as well. Though jovial, he kept his eyes peeled for any potential threats lurking around. Scattered around were grayish-blue plants like giant flytraps, motionless unless touched, at which point they would snap shut with a painful chomp. Tora ended up so focused on avoiding one that he accidentally ran into a bluish globule that dangled from an overhead branch, which he mistook for an icicle. It stuck to him, and with a yell the Nopon got hauled upwards, pulled like a hooked fish toward a triple-jawed plant creature. Once he got his bearings he managed to pry himself free with his wrench and land safely in Poppi’s arms, but the fisher plant appeared to take no damage, and merely let down its line again for next time. Of course, Peacock shot at it anyway.
Confident in the assumption that all kinds of enemies lay in wait throughout this wintry wonderland, the team began their climb anew, seeking various routes up and over the tricky terrain.
Though everyone could use a break out of the rain, their collective descent underground along the path that Hatty scouted for them could wait for a few moments while the victors collected their spoils. If every cloud had its silver lining, even in the midst of an ever more torrential downpour beneath storm skies, it was that the most grueling fights offered the most numerous rewards. With the grotto beneath the well about as safe as anyone could hope, common sense dictated that the heroes should hurry to collect the spirits that their aquatic enemies left behind and go down to make use of them in peace, but with more than a couple uncommonly adventurous souls on hand, things didn’t pan out quite so simply.
Bowser took it upon himself to approach the decrepit sea monster jammed into the eastern pit harbor, seemingly unfazed by her many spiked tentacles or elephantine proportions, so that he might better her situation. If the Koopa King expected to become pals with the beast, however, he found himself disappointed. Scylla seemed determined to drag anything and everything she could get her claws on down with her, and in the end took a concerted effort from several Seekers to finally put down for good. Even in death, however, the ungodly thing continued to linger as long as she could, and from her entrails Link managed to harvest a handful of useful items. Then, seeking perhaps to undue the infirmity stamped upon his being by his fusion with Northampton, Link took the spirit of Tidehunter into himself. As the Koopa Troop divided up their own rewards, and a handful of heroes took on brand new Strikers, the Hero of the Wild’s kaleidoscopic lightshow briefly illuminated the drowned village center.
Notable spirit consumed: Tidehunter The user has gotten a lot taller, growing to 6.5”, and become much bulkier, gaining a more broadly muscular (rather than chiseled) physique, especially around his neck, which is now slightly broader than his head. Green stripes run all the way down his back, and he is now by default shirtless. His mouth is much wider, capable of opening all the way to his ear, and his front teeth are sharper and longer. The host has also gotten less communicative. In addition to physical strength, this spirit confers the Power Kraken Shell, negating a flat amount of damage from each attack (not status) dealt to the host. This is particularly effective against high-quantity but low-damage attacks, which can be reduced to 0. This spirit also confers the Power Empty Pool, halving the amount of magical resources (mana) the host has at his disposal
New Strikers spiritbound: Fizz A playful trickster striking with an assassin’s dexterity, arriving in a flash and gone just as quickly. His quick flurry of trident attacks can cause bleeding, and he can also pull of a corkscrew dash attack Judicator An abominable monstrosity, made all the more horrific for its undeniably human element. Although borne of the lowest depths imaginable, a cursed amalgam of sea creature and doomed mariner, it bears an undeniably connection to the cosmos–specifically the constellation Libra. It is slow and not that strong physically, although it takes up a lot of space, and can be called on reasonably often. Its scales, however, can induce stress in targets in a wide area,pelt them with spectral fire, of grant healing through the act of flagellation
New Striker Swarm spiritbound: Murlocs Fishmen bothersome chiefly in numbers, wielding a variety of primitive weapons with which to hack, skewer, and bludgeon their enemies
New items acquired: Souls x 800 A sort of ephemeral quantity bound to oneself, immaterial and conferring no burden. Souls, sen, runes, echoes, scrap, geo, widgets, haze...whatever you call them, they are a universal currency that, if not usable outright, can at least be exchanged most anywhere. But beware: death will drop one’s whole sum on the ground for others to collect Fish Meat A fresh filet of fish. Handled correctly it can make a rich dish Pearl Cage To the sea people, the bright pearls that Watatsumi's deity once praised are priceless treasures. Only the Divine Priestess had the right to sing the great song themed around those pearls. This artifact grants a notable bonus to water damage and minor boosts to defense, health, and energy recharge
New items acquired: Souls x 500 A sort of ephemeral quantity bound to oneself, immaterial and conferring no burden. Souls, sen, runes, echoes, scrap, geo, widgets, haze...whatever you call them, they are a universal currency that, if not usable outright, can at least be exchanged most anywhere. But beware: death will drop one’s whole sum on the ground for others to collect Antivenom A dependable cure for poison, if you can get past the taste
New Striker spiritbound: Scylla An immense sea beast created by a divine curse and set as a guard dog on an eternal watch alongside Charybdis, the whirling abyss. Being very huge and powerful, Scylla can inflict a great deal of damage across a large area, but her usage comes at a price. She can deliver Super Assists like a double-armed slam, a giant flop, or a tentacle raid from below, but doing so exacts an immense half stamina drain on the host spirit, and will take health if not enough stamina is available
Once the looters finished up, they followed their counterparts out of the downpour and below ground into Hatty’s grotto, trusting in her hat’s sense of direction. After them followed Spinal, for though Link’s attempts to communicate with the skeletal pirate resulted in no more than awkward silence, the possibility of grand riches seemed to provoke some kind of response after all. Even if he didn’t chance upon the Mask of the Ancients in the island depths, no pirate with his salt turned down a chance at loot, and where Spinal went his Dhelmise followed. Rather than climb down he just jumped, and though he burst apart on impact the cackling skeleton wasted no time pulling himself back together.
Another few moments and everyone was down, although not without a little trouble. The ladder, already warped dangerously by the weighty witcher’s descent, ended up snapping halfway through Bowser’s climb and expediting his journey to the cave floor, although a little fall wasn’t going to hurt much more than the Koopa King’s pride. Unfortunately, the grotto offered the weary heroes little in the way of hospitality, and investigation into the offensive, vicious rotten-fish smell that assaulted their noses yielded a good view of a repulsive scene. Nadia didn’t need to look around at her teammates’ faces of profound disgust to know that nobody liked the thought of going down there. After Delsin’s question received an answer by way of Hat Kid’s reluctant point downward, though, there could be little doubt that their future held a whole lot of slugs.
“Eugh…” Nadia winced, finding that when she withdrew her hand from the wooden balcony railing it came with a few globules of unidentifiable slime. Everything about the scene, from the despicably abundant slugs to the weird lights to the almost gelatinous feminine figures oozing from their shells, to the handful of creepy murloc shamans tending to them, struck her as incredibly, unignorably wrong. Like some long-buried, primordial secret, never meant for human minds. Still, it couldn’t be helped; it wasn’t like the group could turn back now, or even hang around up here for that matter. The algae-slick boards beneath her groaned beneath the weight of the others who’d come up around her to look down from the second-floor balcony across the tons upon tons of squishy, pale invertebrates, and those sea maggots were probably inching toward them right this minute, along with who knew what else. And thanks to Delsin’s report, the threat of mutative disease loomed over all; the heroes needed to blow this joint as soon as possible.
The feral appreciated Link’s attempt to downplay the situation, but she didn’t know if she could agree with him. The Maw sucked of course, no bones about it, and it was many things, but was it more flat-out gross than this? Nadia didn’t think so. Hatty confirmed for him that the fog-shrouded cave system past this cavern was their destination, which meant that the Parasite Farm below was their way forward, like it or not. Blazermate’s attempt to break the ice, meanwhile, earned her a dubious glance. Was she not happy with the wretched, shambling, smelly minions of debatable use she’d amassed already? A cry from the side made Nadia jump, and she punched her muscles to jump to Sakura’s aid, but the girl was already back up before the feral could reach her. When the street fighter revealed her prank, Nadia let out a dry chuckle as she shook her head. “Ya got me.” Her attention then turned to Kamek and Rika as they sent out a few of their minions to probe the road ahead for any unwanted surprises. Bella deployed a few seaplanes of her own to lend to their efforts, but their reconnaissance failed to provoke anything to reveal itself. “Looks like we’re not getting out of this one,” Peach sighed as the scouts returned, opening her parasol with a fwoomp. With a final wry smile she vaulted over the railing and floated down.
Nadia watched her go, noting that she’d be able to glide over and skip most of the Parasite Farm. smart. She couldn’t do that, but she had her own tricks. The feral gave the others a cheeky salute and dove over the railing. As she fell she twisted enough to grab hold of a plank on the balcony floor, after which she allowed her muscle fibers in her arm to extend, lowering her down toward the slug beds. While she couldn’t stretch the whole way down, a few small swings back and forth built up enough momentum for a somersault leap onto one of the boardwalks that lay atop the malodorous heap, and naturally Nadia landed on her feet. For the first time since arriving on Carcass Isle she found that she wasn’t standing in at least ankle-deep water, much to her delight, even if these bone-white boards weren’t exactly dry. Or clean. With a grimace she kneeled down over a slay slug nestled between two of the planks, but not even a curious poke evoked any signs of life. “I think…they’re dead?” She glanced around, wary of the snail women but otherwise unthreatened at the moment. “If nothing’ else, the rest of ya could just jump straight down into ‘em. Like a big ol’ ball pit, hehe…yuck.” She spotted the glutinous wretches beginning to crawl her way, making weird noises a little too mistakable for voices for her taste. Uneasiness put springs in her feet as the feral scampered across the boardwalks and toward the far end of the cavern. The shamans she passed shrank away from her, holding their fishbowl stalves warily. If they didn’t want a fight Nadia wasn’t going to give them one.
After a minute or two, everyone -even Spinal- had crossed the parasite farm. Aside from the odd lunge from a snail woman, easily avoided and left behind, nothing troubled them. In contrast to the aggression of their village-dwelling cousins, the murloc shamans offered no fight, instead wholly concentrated on whatever they were doing in their little nooks and corners throughout the cavern. Nadia did not dwell on it, but approached the branching path alongside the others. At this point the planks ended, forcing everyone to walk on the invertebrates themselves, but luckily the creatures seemed to be as tightly-packed as they were gummy, which made for better footing than one could have hoped for. Only that one tunnel out of the four present featured that bizarre fog, whose nearly two-dimensional surface struck Nadia as weirdly stable. The others led to the left-front, left-rear, and right respectively. Before she or the others could get too close, however, the slug mound before them began to shift, and a reviled presence made itself known. At first Nadia mistook the shapes arising from the mass as large slugs, but the emergence of the thing’s full body rendered her only more confused. This wasn’t a slug, or even a sea creature, but nothing more or less than a giant, disembodied hand in a featureless white glove.
The response of a few other Seekers, however, was immediate. They attacked without warning, giving cues for the newer recruits to join in on a preemptive strike against what surely must be a terrible enemy, only for their shots and spells to fizzle out against a bubble shield that became momentarily visible with each strike. It quickly became clear that no amount of force would harm the entity, no matter how much the veteran heroes might want it. When the Parasite Farm at last fell silent, the entity gave a wave of greeting, and spoke. It spoke not with words, but with vibrations of the very air itself, twisting and distorting a sound into existence that thrummed into the very cores of the heroes before it.
”Seekers of restoration, thwarters of curses. The depths weigh heavy on your hearts, stained as they are by the darkness into which you’ve plunged, yet still you have risen, bubbling up toward the surface. Yet this world’s curse is as bottomless as the sea, the source of all greatness, all things that be. It is too late now to escape it. All things must come, sooner or later, unto the abyss from which they came”.
Master Hand snapped its fingers, causing the fog wall behind it to turn black. Nadia felt a sudden pain in the palm of her left hand, and when she looked at it, she watched a pitch-black inscription appear on her skin that read 05:00:00. A chill ran down her spine as the entity continued.
”Before you traipse blindly onward and succumb to the deep, I will stop you here. If you would break the curse, you must first understand that speed is life. At the end of each of these tunnels you will find a fearsome foe. If all three spirits are not brought here within five minutes, you will die. Three.”
Nadia gulped, her bright blue-green eyes scanning the tunnels. “Wait, huh? You’re kitten me, right?”
”Two.”
She looked at the others, desperate for explanation. “What is this? Do you know this thing?”
”One.”
Peach grimaced as she rushed an explanation. “I’m sorry, Ms. Fortune. This is Master Hand, and it’s appeared right before we fight each region’s boss to try and screw us over with a ridiculous challenge. It looks…”
The air split with the sound of the entity’s command. ”GO!”
The seconds on Nadia’s hand began to tick down, and what was happening finally sank in for her. “Oh, hell.”
Peach clenched her teeth. “It looks like we’re on the clock! Listen, everyone. We’ll split into three teams of five so as to not put all our eggs in one basket. No time for drafts, just pick a tunnel and go, go, go!” So saying, the princess kicked her harness into gear and zoomed back toward the left-rear tunnel.
“Lightnin’ round, huh?” With a wry smile Nadia turned to sprint down the left-front tunnel. “Mew-sic to my ears.”
Trial of Desire
Party: Peach, Bowser, Junior, Link, Mirage
Click for music
The left-rear tunnel led Peach to a large cavern that consisted mostly of a bright like, as shiny and still as a field of turquoise crystal. From that body of water and beneath the vaulted cavern roof with its massive stalactites rose a cluster of chiseled ruins dominated by the pillars and arches so characteristic to the temples of glorious antiquity. For a moment the Princess strained to identify whatever adversary that Master Hand placed here for her, even going so far as to wonder for a brief but terrifying instant if this might all be an elaborate trap, but she did not wait for long. She spotted ripples in the tranquil waters before the ruins, and from them rose a shape that Peach only for a moment mistakenly identified as human. Before her lurched a web-fingered, glassy-eyed, purple-scaled monstrosity, a vile parody of the female form, and the Princess readied her weapons to destroy it. Unfazed, the Siren put her conch to her swollen lips, and filled the cavern with her song.
Trial of Purity
Party: Ms Fortune, Geralt, Hat Kid, Ace Cadet, Delsin
Click for music
At the end of the left-front tunnel Nadia found a giant flooded cave, its floor bottomless water as far as she could see. The far side featured a few immense stone columns, seemingly natural, beyond which she could see only fog. More importantly, she spotted the roughly triangular stone platform that crested the surface in the cavern’s center, the only foothold for anyone without a shipgirl spirit to her name. Without a moment to lose, she gathered herself and leaped from the mouth of the tunnel, soaring over the water for a moment before she landed and came to a stop on what she assumed would be her arena–the battlefield for her fight with whatever adversary that freaky hand had in store for her. No sooner did she make contact with the platform than her opponent appeared. Out of the water launched a the Oceanid, a living creature of pure Hydro energy. Serenely graceful, the water elemental soared over the platform, her single radiant eye fixed on the intruders.
“An assassin from our homeland? Or a fool who tresspasses upon the waters of the Fishing Hamlet?”
Like a dancer she whirled around, scattering orbs of water. Nadia dodged out of their way, assuming them to be no more than projectiles, but when the orbs took on the shapes of various animals she was forced to rethink her assessment. Boar, crane, hawk, and crocodile borne down upon her, ready to tear the feral limb from limb.
“Coveting the shapes of the living, pure water can take on many forms,” the Oceanid murmured. “In this way shall water deliver your punishment.”
Trial of the Abyss
Party: Spinal, Bella, Rika, Sakura, Kamek
Click for music
Cackling as if he hadn’t a care in the world, Spinal took off down the rightward passageway, sword and shield raised for a fight. Bella reached out a hand after him. “Monsieur, wait!” Completely ignored, the Water Princess looked back toward Sakura. “Well, zat’s as good a way as any. Hurry, mon cherie!” With her leviathan tail in tow, Bella sprinted through the tunnel, her feeting pounding against the bodies of lifeless phantasm slugs. The path led her around a wide left turn and then a sharp right, then abruptly opened up into a new cavern, its recesses dimly lit by phosphorescent sponges and corals. Water pooled in its depths, and from it rose fascinating natural formations of stone, although they didn’t interest Bella nearly as much as the figures perched upon them, who were currently watching Spinal run around the room's perimeter to get at them.
The Seaplane Tender gasped, freezing solid. With wide eyes she stared at the enemies arrayed before her, not for any inherent horror, but for their familiarity. Closest to the water and by far the largest of the three was the New Southern Battleship Princess, laying oh-so-casually atop her crab-clawed, cannon-covered monstrosity with her legs crossed and a smile in her eyes. To her right, seated on the stone archway, glowered the stern-looking Abyssal Pacific Princess in lavender-tinted white, the waters beneath her churned by the presence of a ghostly leviathan who whose gargantuan maw yawned open like a gate to the underworld. Each wielded a spear, be it slung casually over the lap or held firmly in a ready stance, but it wasn’t the attendants that affected Bella so. Instead she gazed at the strange figure above and behind them, wearing fine clothes, an eerie mask, and a ring of gleaming black iron. Seaplanes hovered around her, their eager snapping teeth saying what the Abyssal’s masked face would not.
“It’s her.” she croaked, her voice low and urgent, as her tail coiled into firing position. “The Abyssal Sun Princess. Our master. The Commander of the Abyssal Fleet. And Pacific, and New Southern too?!” As she clutched in fear at her skirt, her tail went limp, and she let out a rattling breath. “M-mon cherie…I am sorry. We are doomed.”
Anyone is free to interact with Laharl, I fell asleep before finishing the post properly. Now it is done.
Since Laharl is trailing behind, he would probably have to take the initiative, catching up and then making himself known. By the way, just to help you get better situation, I wanted to mention that right now there's only one peak at hand, the Split Mountain from Journey, and the train that the group took here wasn't a normal train but the Railway Gun from Lost Plant 2.
@Lugubrious Could you fill me in on what Laharl must have seen? Or the important stuff he is aware of?
He was present for the first part of the raid on one of the Resistance hideouts, but got annoyed and ditched rather than going underground with the others. Since then, he probably heard that the people he left managed to take down the Resistance, and that the whole this was the fault of the ringleader, who mind-controlled the others into following her orders. The following morning there was a big press release sort of thing detailing the situation to the public, right after which all the PCs (and a number of NPCs) left on the Railway Gun to head for Split Mountain. It's possible that Laharl stowed away and followed behind, which might also mean he meets Ellie, who's also following the team.
@Lugubrious I am back for good, that I can assure you. And being given another chance would be appreciated.
Great. In that case, you can still play as Laharl, or you could try a new character. Due to all the circumstances surrounding his situation however, Frog was lost in the Maw.
@Lugubrious Sorry for the absence, if I could have known I'd have told you. I truly enjoyed this RP. And I'm well aware that I'm out of the RP, but thank you for having me.
Seeing that you're alright eases some of my worries. If it couldn't be helped then I certainly can't blame you. While you are out at the moment, if you think you might be able to be back for good, I'd be happy to extend you a second chance.
The moment that Spindle managed the capture Nick's shadow, the whole thing was a wrap. Everyone with even an ounce of strength to spare joined the assault to lay the hurting down, and none more so than Lorenzo. Despite his complaints about insufficient weaponry, the punkish stranger who sprinted in out of the blue smacked the monster silly with that pipe of his, fighting like he had something to prove. Barney didn't look that gift horse in the mouth, though; with his and Dakota's energy depleted, they needed every strong hand they could get. Besides, if it turned out that the guy spent any more time in this cognitive hellscape than his group, a profound need to vent some pent-up aggression seemed rather understandable.
If Lorenzo expected to actually take this abomination down, however, he was mistaken. Whether through reflection on his own awakening or just solid intuition, Barney knew that nobody's efforts mattered in this confrontation quite so much as Nick's. If Spindle's rushed explanations were to be believed, after all, this was his dark side. The shadow within his own heart, locked up and away from the outside world. Its questions were Nick's to answer, it challenges were his to overcome, and its existence was his to destroy. This thing, he'd realized, seemed to everything wrong with himself, the personfication of the hatred and disgust and anguish deep within, and it needed to go. The young man had already manifested new equipment, the warlike clothes and weaponry that seemingly symbolizes his will to fight, and now, with extreme prejudice, Nick went all the way. With his warhammer he caved in his shadow's cranium in an explosive burst of sticky, chunky tar.
As the remains of its head splattered across the walls of Nick's house, the shadow collapsed in on itself. It sagged and melted like a giant gummy bear left too long in the sun, a defeated and shapeless mass. As it wallowed downward Barney could see Nick behind it, although what exactly the other guy held in his hand, Barney couldn't quite tell. Either way, he could only watch as his new acquaintance crushed the object in his fist. Blue flames swirled outward, washing over Nick before flaring up behind him in a geyser of brilliant light. When it faded, Barney saw nothing at first, but realized after a moment that something stood behind Nick after all--something enormous. Its features and details eluded him completely, other than its poncho and hat, which left the elongated entity so unsettlingly obscure that an inadvertent shiver went down Barney's spine. It seemed more like an actual vengeful spirit than either of the more animalistic Persona's he'd seen so far, but when Nick gave his command, the Dark Watcher complied. It pulverized the remnants of Nick's shadow with a single, unceremonious blow, then disappeared. With it went the barrier of accursed energy all around the makeshift battlefield, leaving the junkyard of lost property worse for wear but finally at peace.
Barney and Dakota moved together to help Nick up, one Persona user under each of their new comrade's arms. "Tell me about it. This stuff takes a lot outta you," the bearded cleric groaned, his own fatigue only worsened by the brief but furious encounter. Nevertheless, he managed to put on a reassuring smile as he clapped a hand on Nick's shoulder. "That aside, you did it, man! Beat the hell outta that freaky thing and got your own Persona. You're one of us now." Saying it like he represented some long-standing, reputable organization was a bit disingenuous, since the Persona-wielding coalition of Rhett & Rynsburger only came into being a few minutes ago, but to Barney it still felt like he'd gained a new brother in arms. Sure, this guy might technically be a stranger to him, but misery makes strange bedfellows, and what they'd already been through seemed like more than enough to plant the seed of a beautiful friendship forged in fire. After going through his own awakening, and hearing snippets of the conflict inherent to Nick's, it sounded like both could use a friend right now.
When a blue glow caught his eye, Barney turned to see Spindle sitting on an overturned wardrobe nearby, arms crossed and a look of approval on her smiling face. "Nice job, fellas! That's one more Persona in the books. Every one y'all get makes it that much more likely you're gettin' outta here in one piece." The police girl turned her attention to Lorenzo, the man of mystery who'd crashed the party at the perfect time. "Howdy! Wasn't tryin' to forget about you or nothin'. Call me Spindle. I reckon you fell through the cracks sometime earlier, huh? Well, I'll be darned. Musta taken a whole lotta gumption to get around by yourself. Still, you oughta buddy up with us for now. More the merrier, right?"
Although Lorenzo's arrival served to further stuff Barney's head with questions, he figured that they could get to the bottom of the situation later. Right now, they had more practical concerns. "More company's great and all, but we're still not out of the woods yet. Do you know where we need to go, Miss Spindle?"
The police girl nodded. "Uh huh. The entrance to the prison. It ain't so well guarded, so as long as we mosey right along the walls, we might be able to slip past." She pointed north through the junkyard, where its miscellaneous heaps thinned and finally came to a stop against another length of chain-link fence. "I'm gonna stay low with y'all so the guard towers don't spot me. Once you got your breath, let's get a move on."
In short order the seven set off along Spindle's prescribed path. With all of them tired from all the action that the Prison of Indictment put them through and three exhausted by their awakenings to boot, they moved slowly and cautiously. Barney could walk well enough by pacing himself and didn't think that reaching the jail's entrance would be an issue, but any run-ins with guards could spell disaster for the group. None of those who met Pondwater face to face could forget the others who disappeared during or after the mad dash through the Proving Grounds, either. Even for their eye in the sky there had been no further sightings of Alina, Harriette, Jin, or Mila. Barney wanted to believe that they could make it on their own, especially after finding out Lorenzo apparently did just that, but this 'cognitive world' was honestly ridiculous. If not for a whole lot of help and a serious streak of luck, he probably wouldn't be around, either. Still, whatever the odds might be, Barney kept an eye out for any sign of the four whenever he scanned his surroundings for guards.
After a good while and a couple close calls, Barney, Dakota, Nick, Caelum, Vincent, Lorenzo, and Spindle reached the prison entrance. Throughout the journey Barney had wondered why exactly the police girl would conclude that their best chance of escape lay at what was probably the prison's most-guarded area, but seeing it for himself explained a lot. Instead of a rode with gates, the great walls bordered a large chasm in the ground, its sheer walls extending a good fifty feet downward to the surface of the river in its depths. As the canyon went further into the prison it got shallower, creating a multi-tiered series of rapids and low waterfalls that spilled outward from an immense reflecting pool at ground level, which appeared to go all the way to the dreadful courthouse in the place's center. The whole spectacle confused Barney until his stealthy procession got closer, nearing the guard booth on the near side of the chasm. Then, a fresh wave of despicable symbolism became clear to him. A bridge crossed the reflecting pool right at the edge of the first waterfall, and a number of shadows crouched atop it, twice as large as any seen so far and wielding huge, shiny fishing rods. Dressed to the nines in flashy, formal attire and wearing big, toothy smiles on their otherwise featureless black faces, the creatures baited their hooks with certificates and degrees before casting their lures into the water below. When Barney looked down, he saw people down in the water, seemingly normal except for the belts, chains, and other such restraints that bound them, forcing them to twist their bodies to swim in a sickeningly fishlike fashion. As Barney looked on, aghast, the people attempted to launch themselves upstream in order to get at the shadows' bait, and the moment any of them happened to grab onto a hook, the shadow whisked the victim up out of the river and into a waiting cage the size of a cargo container to flop and squirm among the rest of its catch.
"Eugh." Barney shudder, trying to shut out the appalling scene on the basis of it not being real. He and the others had taken refuge behind a couple parked vehicles not too far from either the chasm edge or the guard booth, but a couple sentries stood in their way both in and outside the checkpoint. Many more hung around the chasm railing, spectators who would come running at the first sign of trouble. Even if it was neither intended nor expected that prisoners would pass this way, security remained tighter than anyone would have liked. "What now?" he asked. "Are we gonna try to sneak through 'em? Distract 'em? What about the others? They're still in here somewhere. We can't just leave 'em, right?"
Spindle's face betrayed her uncertainty. "...I know," she murmured, pointedly keeping her voice down. "I don't wanna leave 'em, but we ain't exactly fit to scour the place. I wanna say just hunker down here for a bit while I fly up to try an' find 'em, but if we get caught, our goose is cooked." She tried to take stock of all the guards watching the fishing jamboree, but only managed to come up with 'too many to count'. Her Odradek could disable a couple enemies, but based on her testimony couldn't do much against a horde of the things, and the other Persona users couldn't fight right now either. Barney took deep breaths, trying to think of something. This was quite the pickle.
Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.<br><br>Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.</div>
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