Current
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
2
likes
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.
@Lugubrious Would it be game-breaking if Ravio's main power allowed him to give his items to other characters for a short period? I was thinking he would only be able to give the items he rented to Link at first like the Rental Hammer, Ice Rod and Fire Rod?
So in essence, your plan for him is for him to act as a sort of unique support character who supplies allies with items? Conjuring items and pickups from his 'stock' to lend to other characters would be fine. And naturally, he can wield them himself due to Hyrule Warriors. I don't see this as game-breaking since he'd need this ability to be competitive with other characters, who would probably prefer their own weapons if it was inconvenient. He could also stockpile items and other equipment for the team so that other characters don't need to carry all their other stuff on them.
@Lugubrious Oh has Ravio shown up as a spirit? He is from Link Between Worlds. And he is the Dark World version of Link.
He has not. Generally, you can check the Spirit Board document in the first post of the Characters tab to see what characters have and have not appeared.
@Lugubrious I'd like that, oh also I wanted to ask; has King K. Rool shown up as a spirit? Or have: Papyrus, Lancer (Deltarune), Solaire or Lautric of Carim?
K Rool appeared in the Maw but nothing happened to him. Lautrec appeared in the underground jail beneath the Temple of Khamoon in Al Mamoon, and was freed. The others, no.
Not that I'm complaining but it would be nice to have a bit of interaction before the next update.
Although it may be prudent to avoid any action that might get Typhon's attention, I'm sure anyone with both the time and a suitable character would be happy to oblige you.
The Siren’s precious spirit held tight and Mimi watching his back, Bowser Junior raced back down the tunnel toward the malodorous Parasite Farm, fittingly enough, like his life depended on it. His clown car made good time, bypassing all the hazards that a wet and uneven stone floor might otherwise confront him with, and since no threats either dropped form the ceiling or leaped from the shadows he soon arrived back at the main chamber unimpeded. He zoomed in to find Master Hand floating exactly where the Seekers left him, expressionless and imperious as ever, and the entity offered nothing by way of reaction to Junior’s return–just an open hand to receive his offering.
It took only the most cursory of looks around to confirm that the young prince had arrived first, the Trial of Desire and its loathsome Siren the first to be conquered. Despite blindsiding him, his father, Blazermate, Link, and Peach with a shocking and dangerous gimmick that pitted them against one another, the good guys came out on top once more, and without a casualty to their name. As Junior began to wait, though, the gravity of his own wounds and exhaustion began to sink in. A few moments to rest while the others made their way here would be most appreciated.
He didn’t end up waiting long, however. After only a couple moments a second Koopa flew into the main cavern with a mission-critical spirit in his grasp. Kamek arrived to deliver what remained of the Abyssal Sun Princess to Master Hand, placing it into the entity’s palm alongside the spirit of the Siren. Seeing one another alive and well did a whole lot of good for both elder and youngster, relieving some of the stress and dulling some of the pain incurred during their respective fights. If Junior looked like he’d been through a scuffle, Kamek looked like he’d walked out of an active warzone, and given the nonstop torrent of aerial mayhem he’d been subjected to the description wasn’t too far off.
Of the two victorious parties, Kamek’s ended up returning first. Rika, Bella, and Sakura appeared from their tunnel together, limping along with one another’s aid as Kamek’s white clone work to patch them up. The monstrous firepower, deadly cunning, and terrifying expertise of the abyss had left them so beaten up that their whole bodies were one big ache, but they were okay, and even in good spirits. Aside from packing one more victory under their belts, the Abyssals in particular had faced their demons, quelling some of the strongest small-scale fighters their former Fleet had to offer. What the demise of the Sun Princess meant for the Fleet none could say, but all dared to hope for a brighter tomorrow for the Deep Blue Seaside. Spinal trailed behind them, splintered and broken but still active, and a respectful distance behind him followed New Southern. Though she held her cross spear as she lounged atop her Abyssal crustacean, she gave no sign of ill intent, and her lilac eyes decried the influence of Galeem inside her. It was a stroke of luck that she and Spinal never once crossed swords, since otherwise the gleaming skeleton would still be on the offensive.
On account of having to restrain their rogue princess, Junior’s party returned second. All got more or less roughed up from the tricky fight, not to mention the stamina cost. Bowser especially looked like he’d pass out any moment and fill the cavern with thunderous snores, while Peach looked not just super gassed, but dually angered and embarrassed by something. She deigned not to shed any light on their experience, instead slouching against the cave wall to massage her temples. “That…” she groaned. “Was annoying.”
Two down, one to go, with barely a minute left over. Limited time marched on, and though the triumphant heroes remained calm at first, each second that passed fatefully by without an appearance from the third party caused tensions to mount. None would venture that they didn’t trust the last third of their number if asked, but anxiety built up anyway as one Seeker after another checked the counter on his or her hand, verifying the scant seconds that remained. Fifty. Forty. Thirty. Twenty. After that point, nobody dared to look. Time was running out. The others weren’t showing up. Nobody needed to explain when a few of those present launched themselves forward, sprinting or flying toward the last tunnel, hastened by wild desperation.
Then, the pitter-patter of little feet echoed down the tunnel. Hat Kid rounded the corner with a cloud of mist at her heels, sprinting for all she was worth. In her little fingers she clutched the unmistakable hand of one Nadia Fortune closed in a fist, and the second Hatty had a line of sight on the entity that put her up to this, she reeled back like a baseball player and let it rip. Nadia, no longer sensing Hatty’s touch, opened the floodgates on all the blood she’d pumped into her detached limb. It shot off like a rocket on a trial of high-pressure blood and soared the remainder of the way, flying hundreds of feet until its thrust abruptly cut off. Then the hand dropped and tumbled across the slug-covered floor, bouncing end over end until it finally came to a stop just a few yards away from where Master Hand floated. Its fingers uncurled. Inside, the spirit of the Oceanid, the final ingredient for the Seekers’ salvation.
”...Time.”
Master Hand rolled over, dropping the other spirits onto the floor beside the Oeanid’s. It rose up into the air above the gathered heroes as the members of the third party trickled in one at a time, unconcerned with their labored breathing. Anyone who dared to check his or her hand would discover the same inviolable truth, etched in six characters and two symbols onto their flesh.
00:00:00
Peach’s breath caught in her throat. Her blood grew cold, her mouth hung open, and her shoulders went slack. They…failed? No. No way. They couldn’t have. The timer must just have not stopped. After all, if they’d failed, then that meant they were going to die. She knew not how, but she knew the power of Master Hand, able to warp space, to bend reality, to alter, to make, and to unmake. Could they fight it? Was there still a glimmer of hope? Or was this, after all they’d been through, the end?
”...New record.”
The entity collapsed in on itself, and disappeared in a blip of prismatic light. Behind it, the turbulent black fog wall disappeared, revealing a wide tunnel with an easy slope downward and to the right, hooking left. The path was open, and no foreboding digits besmirched their palms. They had survived.
Nadia jogged up, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. As she came to a stop she bent forward, hands on her knees, to catch her breath. “Where’d that big hand thingie go?” she wheezed as she turned her head upward, a cheerful grin on her face despite her injuries. “Did we win?”
The tunnel ahead was a short one, leading to a round grotto with a mostly dry floor, and there the heroes collapsed. They spread out around the place to rest and recover; needless to say, with Master Hand gone, they felt like taking their time. The healers had their work cut out for them, to say the least, but bit by bit the heroes’ cuts closed, their bones unbroke, and their punctures disappeared. Some chatted, commiserating over the nasty surprises the entity’s absurd challenge threw their way, while some kept quiet. Nobody could truly relax while they knew thanks to Hat Kid's hat that the boss of the Deep Blue Seaside waited for them just down the tunnel on the grotto’s far side, but they could try to take the edge off, at least. In the center of the grotto yawned a circular hole, and in it rested a lift that promised to connect to some hamlet building up above, should anyone need a breath of fresh air after all that action, not to mention the reeking sea slugs.
Spinal stuck around to get his skeleton mended back to how it should be, but those who fought alongside him -or attempted to communicate with him, for that matter- had a clear enough view of his insanity to know that he might not be around for long. New Southern, meanwhile, elected to not follow the Seekers down at all. For all her feigned indifference and genuine confusion over her place in the world post-awakening, the Abyssal knew just how unwelcome company she was to these former enemies, and steered clear. Instead she made her own way toward the surface, no doubt trying to find somewhere less abhorrent to lay down and mull things over.
Nadia reclined on a bed of kelp, her hands behind her head. Despite her relaxed posture, she harbored no end of frustration about her performance in the time trial. After doing consistently low damage, having to evade near-constantly, and requiring help from her teammates all too often, the feral felt pretty darn upset with herself. Sure, she’d gone her entire life fighting humanoid opponents one on one or in small groups, but Nadia knew she didn’t need to be making excuses for herself. She needed to do better. Be better. Be stronger. As per usual she didn’t share her feelings aloud, but her discontent showed clearly on her face. Now that she was part of a team, especially a team with people she was starting to care a lot about, she couldn’t afford to be weak. But how…?
When an idea came to her, she didn’t hesitate to capitalize. “So, what’re we gonna do about those spirits?” she asked. She got up and pattered over to where the loot was laid out. In addition to the Siren, Sun Princess, and Oceanid spirits, they also had the two Ucas, the surprise Black Mage and White Mage spirits, and Pacific’s if Rika wanted to part with it. “Mister Grabby didn’t want ‘em, and they’re pretty strong. If we’re gonna be squarin’ off with the big bad, we oughta power up, right?” She gave the group a solid second before rushing to make her own climb. “I kinda want that watery fish creature. If I get hydropower, I might be able to do more with my blood.” With a thief’s dexterity she snatched the spirit and held it up by her eyes for inspection, hoping that nobody would object.
The young men and their mysterious guide huddled in what little shelter the parked trucks provided them for what felt like an eternity, trying to rebuild their collective stamina as best they could. Now more than ever Barney counted his blessings that these pit-faced prison guards seemed pretty lacking in the perception department. Maybe it was the lack of eyes? Whenever one walked by the spot where he, Dakota, Nick, Caelum, Vincent, and Spindle were hiding he held his breath, but not once did a sentry turn its yawning cavity his way. If they were real people the would-be escapees would have been caught long ago, no doubt about it. Still, he couldn’t count himself too fortunate until he and the others were finally out of this despicable place. If only, he thought, there was a clear way forward.
After a few minutes, a hushed whisper from Spindle broke the tense silence that had settled over the group like a weighted blanket. “Odradek’s tellin’ me we got non-Shadows nearby!” she told them, trying not to sound too excited. Despite her efforts to keep her cool, however, her hope shone bright on her features. “Comin’ up from underground, right over there!”
She directed her new acquaintances’ attention across the dirt road to the south, which looped in a parabolic arc to the southeast to serve as the dividing line between the jailhouses and the Proving Grounds on the prison’s right side. Her extended finger pointed out a cleared section of land that appeared to be in the preliminary stages of construction, so early in the process that little was done beyond some digging and laying of foundations. Those who could get a line of sight watched until a set of hands broke through the loose soil, then a second, until enough ground had been shifted to allow a familiar trio to pry themselves free from the clutches of the earth. Barney’s eyes went wide as a big smile sprang to his bearded face unbidden. “It’s them!” he whispered, for though they were bruised and bloody, scoured by claw marks and scraped by stone, dirtied and disquieted, he recognized Alina, Jin, and Harriette–the people that he feared had been lost, found. Even better, he realized from the military-style clothes that Harriette now wore that she must have undergone an awakening of her own.
Filled with elation, he turned to the others. “They made it, God bless! We’re all gonna make it!” When he glanced at Spindle he found her smiling despite herself, but the police girl put a finger to her lips. “Shush, shush! Hold yer horses, don’t give us away! Lemme I’ll handle this.” Moving with deliberate slowness, she held her hand out beneath the truck. A flicker of blue flame brought forth her persona Odradek on the ground, and after a moment it sent one of its threads out like a snake. It slithered across the open ground to where the underground trio kept a low profile among construction materials and waved to get their attention. From there, the simple act of following it with their gaze would be enough to bring their eyes to where the others hid.
Spindle’s voice reached Harriete, Jin, and Alina through the thread. “Howdy, folks!” she whispered. “My name’s Spindle, and I’ve come to help get y’all outta this here prison. Now listen up, ‘cause I jus’ had a finger-lickin’ good idea. There ain’t a fart’s chance in the wind we get out either by force or by runnin’, but I reckon we can make the river do the work for us.” The police girl glanced between her compatriots to make sure they were listening, too. “It flows from the waterfall, right? Gotta lead somewhere, an’ anywhere’s better’n here. Fallin’ don’t hurt none in the Metaverse, so if we jump in before any o’ them guards grab us we’ll be sittin’ pretty. Whaddya say?”
The two groups did not, unfortunately, get long to mull the idea over. A sudden rumbling from underground cut the conversation short, and just a moment later the earth itself erupted a few hundred feet away from the construction site. A cloud of dust flew into the air alongside chunks of dirt and stone, all thrown up by a massive geyser pitch-black curse energy wreathed in red. Then a woman’s resounding voice, amplified and slightly warped, echoed throughout the prison from the rupture. ”HARRIEEEEEEEEEEEETTE!” Like clockwork, Pondwater's splendorous golden beacon locked on to the disturbance from the courthouse, its gaze more baleful than ever. ”Where are you, sweet-thing?” the woman’s voice continued without pause. As the rubble and darkness cleared away, they revealed a beautiful horned woman in glamorous decoration and attire, dreadfully familiar to the few who only just escaped her. Around her gathered a number of vicious-looking imps, as well as a handful of bizarre starfish whose sea-blue peepers swept the premises. ”I just want to talk~”
”Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, your Deploriousness!” The voice of Pondwater boomed, thick with distortion. As his eyelight narrowed, guards from all around dropped whatever they were doing and began to converge on the unwelcome guests. ”Crawl back into your hole. The inmates are aaaall MINE!”
Fighting broke out instantly, and with it came a wave of chaos, sweeping over the entire Prison of Indictment. A sudden burst of white light drew Barney’s attention back in the direction he came, and he looked in time to see a handful of guards thrown like ragdolls away from the door to the nearest jailhouse. Now that he got a good look at the building’s front it struck him as rather odd, sporting a whole lot of sandstone and oddly archaic decor, from beast-headed statues to carved glyphs. From its door stalked a young woman in black and gold, strutting beneath a halo of radiant light. Unlike before, however, he knew this girl, though act of recognition led straight to bewilderment. ”Kirsty!?” he exclaimed, taken aback.
Spindle whistled, her brows raised over eyes wide with fear. “Whoo-wee! All the Warlords’re comin’ out to play!” She stood up, prompting the others to do the same. “Bout time we made a run for it. C’mon!”
She set off at a sprint for the canyon as fast as her build allowed, leaving it up for Barney, Vincent, Caelum, Jin, Harrietee, Dakota, Alina, Nick, and Lorenzo to follow. Without even a hint of stopping she ran straight off the cliff’s edge, summoning Odradek like a glider over her to slow her fall. Barney shot past her, yelling and flailing the whole way down, until he hit the rapids with a mighty splash. A moment later he bobbed to the surface, holding onto his hat, and when the current picked him up he practically flew downstream.
Once everyone arrived, the meeting could begin in earnest, and though she managed to keep herself quiet, Mae couldn't help but be a little excited. Any meeting with Lady Faetalis or the other supreme beings was naturally of utmost importance by default, but those occasions that called for the presence of every Infactorium Overseer at once were truly a cut above. Since the guild's arrival in these unknown lands a couple such gatherings had come and gone, but still they never lost their luster, at least for Mae. While her eccentric but endearing family of Maneaters meant that she never felt lonesome, she seldom had occasion to visit -or even hear from- the other factories beyond what little she could glean from the idle chatter of those who came and went in the Gorging Trough. That meant being around her peers -not to mention her betters- always felt special. And yet, today the headless horror had a certain, inexplicable feeling that this meeting would be more extraordinary still.
As such, when Faetlis got started, the immense chef took the biggest seat that the room had to offer and listened at rapt attention, her arms rested atop her belly with her hands clasped. Her boss's first order of business was to disseminate some big news, namely that big things were going to start happening very soon, in one way or another. By sheer bad luck, the sudden introduction of the guild to this particular mountaintop had led to a disruption in the supply of a vital local resource, without which the nearby vassal kingdom would quickly incur the wrath of its imperial overseer. The whole thing went a bit above Mae's pay grade as a humble chef, but it sounded like no matter what Faetalis chose, conflict would be inevitable. Like the true professional she was, however, the supreme one already had plans in the works, and wasted no time presenting them.
A mere moment later, without neither an excess of preamble nor exposition, Mae found herself endowed with a heaping portion of extra responsibility. Supervisor? Floors? My command?! If Mae had a forehead she might have drawn the back of her head across it, or nervously scratch her neck, but with no such facilities she could do little more than wring her hands as the details poured in. It was a lot to take in, but a kitchen expert like Mae could boil the blueprint down to its essential components. Right now Infactorium existed as a cluster of factories atop the mountain, but now the core of the mountain itself would be hollowed out and developed into a series of floors, each one being the essence of an existing factory writ large. But this was more than just the chance for a bigger workplace. This time she wouldn't be just the one brought in to operate the facility that Lord Sugi the Hammer designed; she would be the designer, in charge of the place from top to bottom, bearing both the power to make decisions and the weight of delivering results. Having creative control over a cake was one thing, but a factory? She was just one monster!
But no. Though inner conflict roiled her guts like a bad stew, she swallowed her fears and with a ginger hand accepted her key. As much as she needed him, Sugi wasn't here right now. Instead, Faetalis stood before her, and placed in Mae her wholehearted trust. She hadn't just bestowed upon Mae the honor of defending the guild, but also made her the penultimate defender, with the new Gorging Trough to be situated directly below her own eminent Domain. Not the ravenous swarms of Gammaton, not the machined might of Tungsten, not the inexorable breaker Levia, not even the venerable forgemaster Cormac...her. A morbidly obese monstrosity without a single kill to her name. She would be the last line of defense, the one in whom Faetalis trusted to put down whatever threat all the others could not. It was an incredible responsibility, and though it made Mae a little afraid, it also made her incredibly proud. Her fist closed around the tiny key in her hand, and she beat it against her clavicle. "You got it, ma'am! We won't let ya down, I swear it!"
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.
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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