Member
DracoLunaris
AlmostEternity
BunniesOfDoom
TokyoPewPew
Drifting Pollen
Massasauga
Dragonydas
Morgannis
Xaltwind
CitrusArmsTora, Poppi, and Big Band
Location: Sandswept Sky
Level 9 Tora (216/90) Level 9 Poppi (216/90) Level 7 Big Band (44/70)
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Raz’s @TruthHurts22, Raiden’s @XoXKieroBombXoX, the Phantom Thieves, Braum, the Scout, Peacock, Mao, Tharja, Ciella
Word Count: 1548
As weary and sore as the Seekers were, nobody planned on plumbing the depths of Hollow Heights, so they had no choice but to drag themselves up off the girders and onto terra firma once more. Part of it had bent downward but not collapsed, so after all the sand slid off into the void the team could just hike on up to the desert surface above, so long as they watched their step. The knowledge that at least part of the Sandswept Sky lay suspended on a metal floor atop untold fathoms of pitch-black space was a little disconcerting, but as long as they got away from the edge they could focus on the bigger problems at hand: the interminable vastness and untenable, searing heat of the desert itself.
Before anyone could set off anywhere they needed to cool off, at least enough to ward off heatstroke and stymie the sticky sweat that flowed so freely that it stung the eyes and made dehydration a legitimate -and dangerous- possibility. Poppi and Sectonia worked together to alleviate the heat with their elemental power. While the artificial blade channeled ether through her Ice Core to spray her Masterpon and then her allies down with frosty mist, the insect queen -as ever- deferred the work, this time to her Ice Antlions. Fox lent a hand too as best he could, calling upon Goemon to manifest chunks of ice, and Ciella certainly spared no effort cooling herself down by inundating herself in her own frigid water. Even after wriggling out of his overalls and tasting sweet relief in the nude, Tora continued to cling to his companion’s leg the whole time. “Need...cold,” he muttered over and over, his eyes shut and his mouth open as he panted. “Need…cold…meh…”
“You’re welcome!” Poppi told Jesse, smiling cheerfully. “That was certainly outrageous battle, and absurd experience, overall. All way up mountain, all way down, then all across desert. Truth be told, things turn out way better than Poppi projections indicate. So Poppi happy as clam!”
“Tora happier after ten-hour nap,” her Masterpon moaned.
Big Band let out a long, slow breath. “I’m just about played out, myself. We could all use a good, long break after all that hullabaloo. Hell, they oughta make a picture outta what we went through today. If we don’t get filthy stinkin’ rich off the movie rights, there ain’t no justice left in the world, after all.”
“Say, now there’s an idea!” his young charge grinned. “Peacock and the gang on the silver screen at last! I’d buy that for a dollar!”
Aside from the temperature problem, there was the matter of the team’s health. Nobody had escaped unscathed, with injuries ranging from bruises, sprains, and minor breaks from being thrown around on the train, to burns, shrapnel, and ruptures from Akrid attacks. After the shockwave of the armory car exploding, few people were still breathing or hearing quite right, either. Sectonia’s passive healing wasn’t going to cut it, so Mona set up triage. “If you’re hurting bad, right this way!” the little guy called. “I’ve got plenty of spirit left, so I’ll get you fixed up, lickety-split!”
“I can help!” Panther volunteered, already in the middle of tending to Skull’s bloodied arm.
The various Seekers worked their magic, endeavoring to undo all the damage inflicted by Red Eye and red-hot sun alike throughout the course of the long and hectic boss battle. Still, despite their efforts, none of their attempts to help got through to Tharja, who remained dead silent and blank-faced despite the incredible misery that clotted inside her. As the others did what they could, Midna took the opportunity to explain about the World of Light, mostly for Raiden’s sake. Her explanation ended in a mission statement, and while it was true that their campaign had a long way to go, four bosses out of thirteen was nothing to sneeze at. Nothing eased the pain of one’s trials and tribulations quite like victory, after all. Once sufficiently cooled off and patched up, some of the heroes started to walk, with Jesse leading the way. Tora and Poppi just sort of followed along, but it didn’t take long for the Nopon to think twice about the journey he was embarking on. “Hang on, meh. Where we going?”
Poppi glanced at Jesse. “She heading toward Al Mamoon,” she postulated based on the FBC director’s direction and purposeful stride.”
Tora squinted, trying to peer through the heatwaves that distorted the desert air. “That way? Tora not see anything, meh.”
“Well, it pretty far,” Poppi allowed.
“And you people okay with just walking there. Ugh.” Tora plopped down in Big Band’s shade, sitting on the ground. He had yet to put his overalls back on, so the hot sand burned his rear a little. “That crazy, meh. We sure there not better way? Maybe we could signal train!”
“Not unless there’s more tracks nearby,” Band observed. “That monster tore up the rails behind us the whole way.”
Skull patted Mona’s head, his expression hopeful. “Oh hey, maybe you could drive us there?” The little thief, however, looked profoundly unhappy about the suggestion after considering the distance, effort, and group size involved.
Having already changed back into civilian attire to prevent his black Phantom Thief outfit soaking up the sun, Joker thought about what to do. With Fox still at Tostarena to help out its citizens, he tried to put himself in the expedition leader’s shoes, thinking back to all the means of transportation the group used to cross the vast, sandy waste. He remembered Vah Naboris, the mechanical camel that ferried his team across the first third, but that immense wall of ruins had proved impassable for it. Some of the others could fly, but not enough of them to carry the rest, provided they even had the stamina for it. Joker furrowed his brow and cast his mind farther back, all the way to Alcamoth. The team had a whole city of allies out there, just waiting to lend a hand, but Vandham and the others back there didn’t even have a way to reach the Seekers, let alone the means to reach them. Or…did they?
Joker suddenly recalled Fox stepping away from the group for a moment to make contact with home base, offering status reports and requesting mercenary missions. To do so he’d summoned a cute little critter in a puff of smoke. But how? The boy didn’t remember any sort of phone, whistle, or other item. Fox had just…called out its name. Could it really be that easy?
“Moogle!” he said suddenly, drawing a couple glances.
Without a moment’s delay one such critter poofed into existence next to him, all done up in a thinning combover and a spotted red tie. “Yessir!” the moogle greeted him. “What can I do ya for, boss?”
“Oh!” Tora slapped a hand to his head. “After everything, Tora forget about that!” He glanced at Poppi, one eyebrow raised. “Wait, but what about you? Shouldn’t Poppi have perfect recall?”
The artificial blade shrugged. “Poppi thought it group leader responsibility and not pin memory data, so it slip away.”
Joker crossed his arms, his focus on the moogle. “We’ve taken down the Sandswept Sky boss, but we’re stranded in the middle of the desert, a very long way from the nearest city. While we’re okay for now, we’re pretty exhausted. Is there anything you guys can do to help? Some kind of emergency evac, perhaps?”
“Uh, maybe!” The moogle seemed optimistic. “Heard it through the grapevine we got a ship last night. Could be fixed up and ready to fly by now. Gimme a sec.” He poofed away, and a few moments passed by in relative silence, the wind blowing softly across the sand. Joker removed his glasses and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, then brushed his hair back to unstick the strands from his forehead. Band turned his back to the sun so that at least his face was in the shade, and Peacock flipped through a comic book she’d pulled from nowhere. After a minute or so the moogle returned, waving his little nubs in excitement. “Good news, pal!” he exclaimed. “I got word the ship can take off as soon as possible, and head on out to pick ya up! Here!” He tossed a device at Joker, which the teen snatched from the air. It was round, with a flashing light and not much else. “This’ll help ‘em find you. The only thing is, the ship isn’t at one hundred percent just yet, so they might end up stoppin’ over at wherever’s closest, just to make sure everything’s good to go.”
“No problem,” Joker breathed, relieved that he wouldn’t need to hotfoot it all the way back to Al Mamoon after all. By the looks of them, just about everyone else shared his elation. As the moogle disappeared again he turned to face the others. “Guess we’ll just make ourselves comfortable ‘til help arrives, then?”
The team’s mechanic had already rolled onto his back in the shade cast by Big Band, his limbs splayed across the sand. “Way ahead of you! That what Tora does best!”
Ms Fortune
Location: Deep Blue Seaside - Limsa Lominscuttle Town
Level 9 Nadia (7/90)
Word Count: 3777
“Sorry, emergency!” Nadia blurted out by way of explanation as she vaulted over the front counter to enter the Mizzenmast Inn, earning not just a shocked expression from the unsuspecting receptionist, but also a handful of curious looks from the customers of the Drowning Wench nearby. Ignoring them completely, the feral raced down the inn’s main hall, past room after room until she skidded to a stop in front of her own. Closed. No sign of a break-in. She tried the knob, her face contorted into a pre-emptive wince, only to find that it was locked, after all. The sour sense of unease in her guts wouldn’t let her leave it at that, however. Without the key, I couldn’t have locked it. So why is it?.
Behind her, the sound of footsteps got her attention. She turned to see the receptionist approaching her, his expression one of professional concern. “Ye were in a right hurry there, lass. Anythin’ amiss?” he asked, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I, uh…” Nadia made a show of patting down her shorts. “I fur-got somethin’ in my room, only to realize, uh, well, I fur-got my key in there too, heheh.”
The man gave a sympathetic nod. “Happens all the time. Just leave it to me, lass. I’ll ‘ave it open in a jiffy, or my name ain’t Ezekiel Keys.” From a pocket he produced a metal ring laden with jingling keys.
“Oh! Thanks!” Nadia flashed him a grateful smile and cleared the way. As he combed over his keyring for the correct one, something occurred to the feral, and she leaned against the nearby wall with her arms crossed. “Ya know, I’m glad you’re such a trustin’ guy. Woulda figured you’d be a li’l more reluctant to help, what with the possibility of thieves and such.”
Mr. Keys humored her with a smile. “Not exactly, lass. I just remember ye from the registry, is all.” He turned the latch and swung wide the door, then held out a hand to usher her inside. “Enjoy.”
“You’re the best!” As Mr. Keys peeled away, Nadia went inside and immediately began to scan her room for any evidence of a disturbance. At a glance, the difference between the room as she left it earlier and how it looked now was like night and day, but not in the sense that it had been ransacked. Instead, it was the picture of clean and tidy. The blankets she left in a state of incredible disarray from a night of frenzied tossing and turning were nowhere to be seen, and their spotless replacements lay as flat and serene across the bed as a sheet of fresh snow, so pristine that Nadia had to suppress the urge to throw herself down on them all over again. She also found none of her old garments or beer cans in the trash can, thankfully. A cleaner must have come in and fixed everything up earlier that afternoon, she figured. But not everything was as it should be. Sure enough, on her desk was the futuristic container she’d been given last night on that nightmarish beach, and when she popped it open, there wasn’t a coin to be found.
She’d been robbed.
“Aaaaagh!” Nadia groaned. “Dammit, I’m so stupid!” She went rigid, her hands clapped to her head in despair, then abruptly fell to pieces. As fantastic -and melancholy- as the circumstances had been in which she’d received that bounty, it hadn’t been a dream, and losing it was no joke. Especially when it came as the parting gift of her beloved Fishbone Gang, the found family she’d once lost on a night of dire consequence, and witnessed again one last time at the seam between this world and the next. Nadia wanted to bang her head against the wall; how could she let this happen to such a personal treasure!?
After a moment spent moaning in a pile on the floor, Nadia sighed and began to pull herself together. Once back on one piece, she plopped down with her back against the foot of the bed, her head in her hands. Slowly she massaged her temples with her palms, as if to churn her brain back into working order. “Okay, okay. This isn’t the end of the world,” she thought aloud, her eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed. “I can fix this. Think, dummy. You’re a thief, this should be easy. Just gotta get in his head…”
Nadia rocked onto her feet, sprang up, grabbed the case, and hightailed it back down the hallway. A moment later she turned up in front of the receptionist. “‘Scure me, Mr. Keys?”
“Hm? Oh.” While the man looked at her with mild concern, the fact that he stayed up here rather than pursuing her meant that he recognized her as a legitimate customer of the inn, which hopefully meant he knew all of them. “Hello again, lass. Everythin’ alright?”
With a wry smile and a helpless shrug, Nadia leaned on the desk. “Well, y’know, could be better. Turns out, I’ve been burgled!”
The receptionist’s brows rose a touch. Though pretty well-composed, he did make sure not to hide his genuine worry. “Cripes, ‘ow terrible. Should I send word to the Maelstrom, then?”
“Uh, not yet, nah,” Nadia shook her head. “I just wanna ask a couple questions, if ya don’t mind.”
Impressed by what he took to be his guest’s commitment to solve the problem on her own, the fellow placed his clasped hands on his counter. “Well. Fire away then.”
“Ya mentioned a registry earlier. You keep an eye on everyone goin’ in and out, right?” Nadia queried. When she received a nod, she continued. “Did you see anyone suspicious? Or carryin’ this case, maybe?”
She showed the Mr. Keys the container. His gaze lingered on it a moment, then on Nadia, as if to ask if she was sure she didn’t see anything wrong with her question. “...No,” he replied after a couple seconds. “Can’t say I did. Nobody goes in or out, ‘cept payin’ customers, an’ Mizzenmast staff. All of ‘em get written down in my li’l book ‘ere, too.”
“Mm, must’ve used his own bag then,” Nadia mused before clearing her throat. “Ahem! That reminds me. My room got cleaned up since I left. Maybe the thief is a staff member?”
Mr. Keys’ eyes narrowed. “Very unlikely, lass. Not only are the maids vetted, but we got safeguards in place. Gotta make sure customer security’s our priority. None of the maids mentioned an unlocked room this afternoon, either.”
Nadia blinked twice, thinking. “Huh. So the culprit either came in before, or picked and then re-locked it after…maybe I could check your notebook?” It took her only a short time to peruse the handful of entries logged between the time she’d left and the time she’d returned. Most people, it seemed, spent this part of the day out and about. It helped that a number of the Mizzenmast guests right now were fellow Seekers, although not all of them. She couldn’t glean much from the names and times of the four entries that remained, other than the second one being the cleaning woman, courtesy of Mr. Keys. That meant two possible suspects–unless the robber didn’t come in the inn’s front door. It was possible that the thief was a guest here too, with a room elsewhere in the inn and maybe a fake name, but was it likely? If the shoe was on the other foot, Nadia certainly wouldn’t have. No matter how good your act, every witness and every record was a liability; a skilled thief got in and out without ever being seen by anyone, or leaving any trace to suggest that he or she was ever there at all.
Finally, the gears were beginning to turn. She thanked Mr. Keys and jogged back to her room, where her focus immediately gravitated toward the window. What happened was no grand heist, but a spur-of-the-moment act committed by someone on the hunt for an easy mark. There were other windows the culprit could have used to enter, but what mattered was the one used to leave. Only a stupid or greedy thief would have stuck around after lucking into such a bounty. Nadia approached the window that she remembered leaving open earlier, and peeked her head out. No balcony of any kind, and no nearby fire escapes or other such easy method of escape. Narrowing her eyes, she ran her finger along the windowsill, and found a mark in the wood on the side of the room. While small, it was deep, and a quick examination determined that the board seemed to be pried up a short distance. A grappling hook, supporting the weight of a man, Nadia reasoned. She leaned out the window and squinted downward. And his ill-gotten loot!
Her window looked out over the Aftcastle, the largest public courtyard to be found to be found on the Upper Decks, so named due to the nautical convention of being behind the Mizzenmast. It sported a smattering of people around its wide-open space, most on official business as far as Nadia could tell. From the Aftcastle, sturdy bridges extended to the Missing Member pub, the Blacksmiths’ Guild, the Hyaline hub tower, and most notably, Maelstrom command. With what amounted to Limsa’s police station right there, she seriously doubted that a small-time thief had the guts to just walk across the plaza. Nadia’s eyes glossed over the largely uninteresting courtyard to land on the real problem: the wharftown. A direct descent from here led not to the marble-white towers and suspension bridges of the Upper Decks, but to the shanties that occupied the five or so stories of vertical space between the Lower Decks and the water’s surface, crowded like thickets and bushes around the ‘trees’ of this maritime forest. The feral slowly exhaled, mulling over her options. If that’s where her thief went, he was as good as gone. For that amount of money, though? “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
Nadia threw herself out the window, performed a somersault in midair, shot past the seastacks, and bounced off an awning like a trampoline to land with a roll on the top layer of the shanties. She stood, moved to the side to let a burly workman by, and took a look around. A second look at the canvas she landed on confirmed that it was, in fact, a sail, and that large sections of this upper layer seemed to be using sails to provide shade from the sun. As her search continued she spotted many sets of wooden stairs that led either up to the Lower Decks or down to interior levels of the shanties, as well as crates, cranes, and cargo operations of all kinds. It looked like the top layer served to load and unload shipments, stockpile material, and so forth. In short, it was everything one would expect from a wharf–and with nowhere to hide, not where Nadia’s quarry would be found.
A set of nearby stairs brought her below, where for the first time the cat burglar laid eyes on the shanties’ true ecosystem. The remaining four layers were a conglomerate of multi-leveled piers integrated with the pirate ships, frigates, galleons, and sloops that had gone out of use long ago, salvaged for lumber or lashed to the docks wholesale and converted into the shantytown’s buildings. Their hulls were the shantytown’s walls, their holds the apartments, their decks the floors, and their cabins the houses, although Nadia could see plenty of more conventional shacks, too. The smells of fresh fish, lamp oil, pine tar caulk, and medicinal remedies hit her all at once. Beneath her feet she could feel the whole place rock steadily with the ebb and flow of the tide. In an odd way it reminded her of the violated fishing village up north, bolted together from the doomed ships that wrecked upon the beaches of Carcass Isle. This was where the refugees of the war with the Abyssals and castaways from all over, without the money to get by in Limsa’ Lominscutte Town’s sunlit decks, found themselves: holed up in a labyrinth of barnacle-crusted wood and gutted vessels going nowhere, getting by however they could in the lamplight. It didn’t look that bad, but it was quite the change of pace from the Limsa that Nadia knew. She could feel the eyes on her, leering, suspicious, hungry. The bottom line was that if the Azure Navy and Maelstrom kept the town above picture-perfect, then this was where the displaced pirates and scoundrels surely dwelled, including the thief who’d made off with her precious hoard.
The only problem was actually finding him. Nadia glanced over at the stairs. If her target was eager to disappear, he most likely came this way. Someone must have seen him. At a measured pace she made her way over to a dingy stall nearby, where a stocky carver seemed to be working at some wood. “Hey,” Nadia greeted her. “Oh, I get it, you must be a c-arr-penter. Well, I don’t wanna holdja up, but any chance ya seen a someone run through here lately with a grapplin’ hook and a bag?”
In reply she got only a surly, squinted stare. Nadia got the feeling that she was being sized up, and that this tough-looking lady wasn’t impressed. Her patience ran out fast, and with it her friendly smile wavered. After a few seconds the trader crossed her arms. “...Maybe,” she growled, her voice grievously hoarse. “What’s it worth to ya?”
Of course. This hoodlum wasn’t going to divulge anything without something on Nadia’s part to sweeten the deal. Unfortunately, the feral was fresh out of cash, and every second that passed was another that let the thief get farther away. Her annoyance was already starting to boil over, so she slapped her palms down on the table. “Look, I don’t have time for this. If ya know somethin’, cough it up, matey!”
The carver suddenly lunged, grabbing Nadia by her baggy tank top and pulling her forward onto the counter with her shirt twisted up in a knot. All of a sudden her face was in the feral’s, so close that she could smell the stink of the pirate’s breath. “Maybe those funny ears o’ yers don’t work so good,” she snarled. “‘Round here, we ain’t fond o’ outsiders struttin’ in, actin’ like they own the place. Ya think I’m some kinda rat!? So I’m askin’...what it’s worth to ya. Is it worth dyin’ for?”
After getting over her initial surprise, Nadia bared her teeth. She didn’t appreciate being put through the wringer like this on her day off. If this person felt like being an asshole, fine. “Let’s find out.” She opened her neck scar and released a spray of blood into the carver’s eyes. As she reeled back Nadia delivered a headbutt to the woman’s nose, then grabbed her head and slammed it down into the counter. The next second she flipped into the air, her leg held high, and before Rita could recover Nadia brought down an axe kick that smashed the jerk through the table and laid her out flat on the deck.
As she sputtered, Nadia crouched beside her. Next door, the drunken bone peddler looked on with alarm, but made no move to stop the newcomer. With a flash Nadia hardened her nails into claws. As much as she wanted to try intimidation, Galeem’s influence wasn’t about to let Rita go quietly. As if on cue Rita let out a bellow, rising from the ground with her whittling knife in hand. The feral spun out of the way and delivered a revolving slash to Rita’s head that cut her eyepatch to ribbons and left clawmarks from temple to jaw. “Wagh!” she yellowed, but rather than falter as Nadia expected, Rita shoulder-barged her. As she got knocked back, the pirate followed up with a slice of surgical precision, only for her blade to slide harmlessly through the scar tissue of Nadia’s neck.
“What!?” Rita snapped, not sure what just happened. Her enemy, meanwhile, realized that this must be no ordinary hoodlum. When she found her footing, Nadia went low, then kicked high, going for the throat with Nail Clipper. It left Rita gurgling, and the feral wasted no time comboing into High Brow to launch her into the roof. The carver landed in a heap, all the fight knocked out of her and her knife lost.
This time Nadia put her foot on Rita’s elbow before crouching down. “Ya asked for it,” she sighed. “Now, where’s that thief, huh? What, cat got your tongue? Nyahah, not yet I don’t. Course, we need that if you’re gonna spill the beans. I betcha you ‘wood’ not be happy if I broke your carvin’ arm, though…”
Not conscious enough to resist, Rita grit her teeth. “...I know ‘em. He’ll’ve gone to…Sturmbreacher.”
“Sturmbreacher,” Nadia repeated. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You pirates ‘arr’ gonna hafta work on your people skills.” She patted Rita on the back. “Smell ya later!”
A dozen minutes and a couple floors later, the cat burglar found just what she was looking for: an old galleon with the name she wanted to see emblazoned on the hull in faded paint. It floated listlessly on the water with one side torn open, replaced by a facade with swinging doors and shuttered windows. She stepped inside and discovered that it was a bar, and one rank with disreputable grog and body odor, to boot. Though not jam-packed by any means, it harbored a handful of crooked-looking customers, including a scoundrel, arapscallion, and a ne’er-do-well. Behind the bar stood a huge man with a purple cape, but Nadia was more interested in the fellow sitting in front of him, with his back to her. The white-haired man sported a grappling hook on the end of a rope wound around his shoulder, and on the bar lay an aquamarine bag that glittered with gold. Everyone but him turned to look at Nadia as she entered, bemused and angered by the stranger that clearly didn’t belong.
“We-he-hell, who do we got here?” one of the brigands drawled as the three goons looked over from their table. The bearded man leaned back in his chair. “A pretty li’l miqo’te gal, out all on ‘er own? Now ain’t that just the sorriest thing I ever did see!”
“Heheh,” the girl giggled, obviously drunk and not on the same page. “Yeah, look what the *hic* cat dragged in.”
A noise prompted Nadia to look over her shoulder. From the shadows out of view, a pirate gecko had moved to block the way out, his arms crossed. He looked tough, with a lot of meat on his bones and a big bandage on his nose from a recent scrap. “Well, guess it’s up to us to keep ‘er company!” the first brigand continued. “En’t that just lovely! Well, what’re ye waitin’ for, then! ‘Ere, kitty-kitty!”
Nadia smirked at him. “You just keep on drinkin’, booze-for-brains, ‘cause I pack a hell of a lot more punch than whatever that crap is you’re chokin’ down, and I’ll leave you a whole lot groggier, too!” Although she kept a straight face, on the inside she was beside herself with excitement. Hell yeah! That was a GREAT LINE! Let’s keep it up! She cleared her throat. “I’m here for him.” Grinning, she pointed at the man who had yet to face her. “You! Yeah, you with the haircut! Gimme back my money…uh, dumbass!”
The big guy behind the counter let out a deep, bass chuckle. “Geheh. So it was yers, huh? My boy was just tellin’ me he swiped it offa someone who left both ‘er window and ‘er door wide open. And you’re tellin’ me he’s the dumbass? Gahahaha!”
As everyone started hooting and hollering Nadia couldn’t help but turn a little red, even if she did manage to keep up her sassy grin. She stepped forward. “Oh yeah? W-well, uh. Just you wait, tons of fun. I'll deal with you ne-!”
“SHUT UP!” The man suddenly bellowed. In an instant the entire bar went quiet. “You’ve got some nerve comin’ to pick a fight with me, the pirate lord Barth! I’ll hack you into pieces with my axe!”
“Barf?” Nadia almost doubled over with laughter. “That short for Barf-olomew, or Barf-ood? Either way, some big blowhard like you couldn’t hack it as a deckhand, let alone a pirate lord!”
“You MANGY, FLEA-BITTEN BITCH! RAAAAGH!” Barth roared. He bent behind the counter to dig for something, probably an axe, if his threat was anything to go by. The thief at the bar, however, found his voice first.
“Come now, boss,” he said, his voice calm. “Don’t fall for her petty insults. She’s just upset that she lost a few coins. It’s only natural, after all.” He turned around to reveal the biggest shit-eating grin Nadia had ever seen in her entire life, which was saying something given how often she looked in a mirror. “A fool and her money are easily parted.”
Barth rose up and slammed a giant, double-headed axe down on the bar. “A fool and ‘er life, too!”
“Not this fool.” For just a moment, Nadia was deathly serious. Then, in classic fashion, she broke out into a cheerful giggle. Six enemies, all with weapons, at least half of them thoroughly inebriated. Even with that handicap, this would be suicide as a straight fight. Luckily, she didn’t plan on fighting fair, and as a small sidenote, she couldn’t die. To think this is how I’m spending my vacation. she thought. I coulda been chillin’ on the beach with the others, sippin’ margaritas, but no. She jumped into her fighting stance, bouncing back and forth on her heels. “Come and get me then, ya rabid sea dogs! I’ll show ya I’m not kitten around!”
Cerberus
Location: Deep Blue Seaside, Kanzuki Beach Estate
Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, Ace Cadet’s @Yankee, Sakura and Karin's @Zoey Boey, Link’s @Gentlemanvaultboy, Rubick’s @Scarifar
The fight kicked off in spectacular fashion, and the bright-eyed Triple Demon soaked it up like a sponge. After all the sensory deprivation they’d been through, this beach bash of Karin’s had turned out to be quite the banquet, a veritable smorgasbord for the senses. Not knowing either Sakura or Birdie, they pretty much just wanted to see blood, so they shouted out their encouragement whenever anyone got a hit. When the first round came to an end they almost looked disappointed, but that didn’t stop Cerberus from clapping to show their appreciation, at least with the triplets that weren’t buried up to their necks in the sand.
In the brief interlude a few more unfamiliar faces made an appearance, and predictably Cerberus’ short attention span got the better of them. Ace provoked little more than a glance, but they looked over in perfect unison as two female robots showed up alongside an illustrious sorcerer, whose stylish robe, noxious green glow, and mystical manner struck them as the very embodiment of villainous finery. “Ooh, you look cool!” they chorused. “Are you from hell too? What kind of magic can you use? Can you show us? Please, please, please!” To Blazermate and Susie they paid no mind, assuming that the robots belonged to the mage in their midst.
Before Rubick could either rebuff or oblige the curious hellhound, however, the newly-returned Junior and Kamek started a lightshow of their own. Eager to demonstrate the remarkable artifact they’d lucked into, they leveraged the leftover spirits retrieved from the bowels of Carcass Isle in the wee hours of the morning, putting the monster’s remains to good -or perhaps questionable- use. They started by smushing a freaky penguin spirit into Junior’s poor suspecting Popplio, then moved on to try outfitting Bowser himself with new crustacean armaments. Cerberus’ eyes went wide with wonder as the multicolored light radiated outward from the subjects’ bodies, bright enough to distract the nearby street fighters as they attempted to go about their business.
After oohing and aahing over the transformations, despite a complete and utter lack of understanding of what was going on, Cerberus’ attention naturally drifted back towards the street fighters’ bout. With Rubick all but forgotten they launched into another round of shouts, laughs, cheers, and occasionally jeers, just barking out all their thoughts and suggestions no matter how dumb or impractical they might be. In other words: they acted just as tournament watchers should. The banana peel incident in particular had the three rolling. It wasn’t long after that some sharp words amped up the tension levels, and the action swelled. Cerberus fell silent for the first time, watching at rapt attention as the two went back and forth, trading aluminum cans and spirit fireballs along with incredible kicks and punches. All too soon the spectacle was over. Courtesy of Sakura’s splendid coup-de-grace, Birdie sailed away to splat face-first in the sand. Rather than wallow in the knowledge that he went 0-2 he figured out something more productive to do with his time, and promptly hit the bricks.
The Triple Demon, meanwhile, was impressed, even if there hadn’t been any bloodshed or broken bones. These people were tough! Tough enough for Cerberus to play with, maybe? Even if the two above ground managed to dig their sister out in time, though, it looked like a bout of their own wasn’t in the cards. They realized both that Sakura would be facing off against Karin next, and that it was a grudge match, too. “Ooh, drama!” Cerberus exclaimed as Ishizaki stepped up to referee. “Go on, kick her ass!” they exhorted neither of the gals in particular.
The Chalk Prince, the Fallen Child, the Prisoner, and the Skullgirl
Location: Frozen Highlands - Dragonspine Foothills
Linkle’s @Gentlemanvaultboy, Frisk’s @Majoras End, Prisoner’s @XoXKieroBombXoX
As Albedo pulled his swordblade free the halves of the Sir Slush melted away. Handily done, if the alchemist could say so himself, but with a flurry of snowballs on the way he couldn’t afford to dawdle. He plunged his hand into a pouch and withdrew a fistful of the Dust of Azoth, which he proceeded to ram straight through the snow and into the cold earth below. “A new beginning!” he called, and from dead soil fresh life sprang forth. A fir tree sprang into being, a deep-green coniferous wall of defense bristling with needles to mitigate the impact of the enemy’s projectiles.
Albedo narrowed his eyes as he peered through the boughs, coldly considering the situation. With his observational skills he’d robbed the enemy of not just their element of surprise, but their best chance at an advantageous position. If he and his allies could hold the line, they could take control of the battle and exterminate the enemy without the situation ever devolving into chaos. If it were just him, the long range of the snowmen would pose an issue, potentially pinning him down behind cover until they could surround him, but as his crossbow-wielding ally quickly demonstrated, he needed not worry at all.
Linkle summoned a sniper with a giant bowgun almost as big as the Skullgirl herself, and a moment later Imani blasted a hole straight through the frosty ringleader’s middle. In that charge shot’s wake flew a barrage of crossbow bolts, faster and deadlier than anything the snowmen were packing. In a matter of moments Linkle turned the tables on the would-be ambushers, forcing those with sufficient intelligence to take cover themselves, while their mindless brethren got skewered and blown up by the bushel. The barrage of snowballs against Albedo’s fur tree came to an abrupt end as his assailants shifted focus to the much bigger problem, and like clockwork the alchemist sprang from cover. He raced across the snow with surprising speed and darted into the snowmen’s foxhole from the left side, where his blade slid through snowmen like butter.
He wasn’t the only one who got busy in light of the Skullgirl’s initiative. Frisk procured a dangerous-looking firearm from Linkle’s sled, a bladed black rifle that would be big in the hands of a burly veteran, let alone a noodle-armed child. Despite the splendid veneer, the gun was still the Alternator underneath, a mess of scrap metal and alpine wood cobbled together in the withering cold and scarcity of the icebound world Reisum. When Frisk pulled the trigger it spat out nine frost rounds a second with bone-jarring recoil, and being fully automatic, the recoil quickly mounted to the point where it tore from the kid’s numb fingers. It fell into the snow with a hiss, where it continued to steam for a moment. Meanwhile, the ice shots did almost nothing to the snowmen they did manage to hit, only really serving to make them mad.
Luckily, the snowmen had other issues. The trio’s mysterious pursuer had revealed himself at last -intentionally, at least- and straightaway joined their offensive against their chilly adversaries as a gesture of good faith. With the Prisoner well-situated in his vantage point to pick off any troublesome snowmen that slipped through Linkle’s assault, and Albedo wreaking havoc in the wings, victory seemed all but assured.
As the alchemist lopped the head off one last Sir Slush, he spotted the big snowman from earlier. With no internal organs to pierce, he’d survived Imani’s charge shot despite the gaping hole it left behind, and merely jammed more snow into the gap to fix himself up. Then he lumbered forward, both arms clad in giant masses of snow and ice like shields to block Linkle and the Prisoner’s shots. Like a juggernaut he weathered the storm, stomping closer and closer until he got into range. Then he roared and smashed his wintry shields down, one after another. Each shook the earth, creating a wintry wave that rumbled toward Linkle, Frisk, and the Prisoner, threatening to knock them down and batter them bloody. “Gahahah!” Bad Mr. Frosty guffawed. “Not so tough now, are ya? C’mon, gimme your best shot!”
Albedo obliged, leaping from the sidelines to sink his blade into Frosty’s back. The snowman grunted, but did not relinquish his ugly grin. “Hah! That it?” He gritted his teeth as he raised both giant arms overhead. As he inhaled he burned through his entire cigar in a single mighty puff, and his eyes blazed with fury. “Have…one more! GRAH!”
He brought his arms down in a giant ground point. For a second it seemed no stronger than the other two, but then the whole area began to quake. Albedo turned and looked up at Dragonspine, looming above the icy river and layer-cake hills. His eyes widened as he spotted a great mass of stone and snow hurtling down the slope. “Avalanche!” He went to leap off the snowman and flee in the direction of the gulch’s walls, but to his surprise he couldn’t tug free. When he glanced down he found both his sword and the arm that held it frozen solid, stuck where he pierced Frosty’s body.
“Not so fast, bub!” the snowman smirked. “You can hang out here as long as ya like. It’s ‘snow’ trouble! Gahaha!” Albedo clenched his jaw and pulled, but he couldn’t get free. All too soon, the avalanche thundered down the valley, swallowing up everything in its path in an unstoppable tide of ice and snow.
It took a few moments for the powder to settle. Then Bad Mr. Frosty exploded from the mess, none the worse for wear despite Albedo’s Cinnabar Spindle still lodged in his body, with no sign of its owner. “One down, three to go!” the villain hollered, looking around. “Who’s next?”
