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.
Maybe I can work up to a particularly powerful spell instead of the buckler, or perhaps an confrontation to get the Bloodhound's Fang for Shadow Step. Last question before I get to work, will you be reducing bleed damage or increasing it? See, Blood Loss, or Hemorrhage, does a guaranteed 15% (Normal Enemy) or 7% to a Boss + 100 or 200 depending on weapon in the real game so I'm not sure if it is too powerful, or not powerful enough.
We can use those numbers as a baseline but there are a number of other factors in play, except for (ironically enough) numbers, since we don't really do specific values and have to ballpark percentages. Lots of people have strong abilities like blood loss, but enemies have their own abilities. They might be able to heal themselves, hide behind a powerful defense that doesn't count as their body, not have blood that can be lost, or purge/prevent status effects (or have so much resistance they can never be applied). Best of all, enemies might be smart (or just cautious enough) to recognize when someone has a game-changing ability and alter their behavior to account for that. Or they might not be in a situation where such a status can even come into play, like flying enemies, or ones that fight at long range. So I'm not too worried, but if it seems like your character is suffering or too strong, we can cross that bridge when we get to it.
Sounds cool! I'll be sure to think about story. And hey, if DB fails, I'll just Blood loss the shit out of them with ROB. Reduvia is good too, and it's much less late-game. Maybe the Default knife and buckler to start, then Reduvia, a summon or two, and the Buckler next? Where would I learn how to summon though....hmm.
Those starting weapons sound fine, although if you start with a buckler then building to a buckler later might be unnecessary. Conceptually, the spirits from Elden Ring are fairly similar to the Strikers in this RP in that they let you call upon fallen foes. They're a little different, in that they don't cost magic but do transfer damage to the summoner, and they can only be summoned for one 'move' before going on cooldown, but that might be able to fill the niche you're looking for.
I call the Tarnished. I want my end goal to be: Have Eclipse Shotel, Have Rivers of Blood, Have Rotten Breath, Have Poison Breath. What levels do you think I would need to access those techniques and find those weapons?
Deal Breaker though: Will Eclipse Shotel's effect work on not just Tarnisheds? It inflicts Deathblight.
There are many Tarnished, so you're fine to claim that as your character, although in general 'real' characters are stronger choices than 'custom' characters when it comes to RPing them due to typically having a definite personality, backstory, and upgrade path to draw from. Someone once applied to this RP as the Bloodborne Hunter, but didn't give them any character to speak of, and seemingly got bored of writing for such a blank slate.
That's quite the powerful Elden Ring build! Faith-Arcane-Dex, is it? Putting aside the stats required, that equipment is in an endgame area, so it would take a long time to obtain in Elden Ring, and it'd probably take a long time to obtain all that in this RP, too. After all, everyone's PCs start weak in here, with just one Power and basic equipment, like an Elden Ring starting class--no matter how strong they were before. Common sense would dictate building up to the strongest abilities over time, like taking Fire Breath before Poison Breath before Rotten Breath, for instance, so it would probably be a while before those Powers manifested themselves.
As for equipment, I can't rightfully say where it would appear in the World of Light. We'll just have to take it area by area, looting what we can from the world and from spirits. On the way, you might find equipment from other games to hold you over, or even stuff you like better. At the very least, I can confirm that Deathblight wouldn't work on just Tarnished, since Tarnished represent an infinitesimal minority of the enemies you'll encounter. Most foes would be susceptible, although their resistance to it might vary massively. Whether you'll be able to instant-kill major foes, however, is up in the air. They might have so much Vitality that going for such a strategy would be a fool's errand, or offer risk comparable to the reward.
So do i just make a character and plop him in there? Also, how do I start my quest and stuff?
Any applications should be posted in the OOC and approved before they can be put in the Characters tab. Once a new character is approved, I can PM the applicant to discuss a starting point for your character in the world that will put you on course to meet with one of the IC teams.
I'm also confused. Is your Big Band a spirit or a PC? If It's a spirit, It cannot physically fight the opponents, or at least I think that's how it works in game.
Big Band is my fourth PC. He has a Spirit, but is not one, since he has not died. Anyone with an entry in the Characters tab who's mentioned in the active roster is a PC.
@Lugubrious Is there a correlation between word count and xp? Also, how to apply?
Hey there! The amount of EXP gained via word count is mentioned under the EXP header in the OP, but the rule is basically this: <750 words is 1 point, 750-1250 is 2 points, and 1250-2000 is 3 points, then +1 for every thousand after that. To apply, fill out the character sheet with your character of choice's information and then post it here in the OOC.
Though Poppi and especially Tora feared for their newfound friend Band as he seemed to take a stand alone against the mangy masses, his seismic Giant Step quickly proved that the pair had nothing to worry about, and with a nod of respect the nopon turned to race after Raz, Roxas, Geralt, Sakura, and Karin on their way to the Black Line station. He bounded along with surprising speed, his feet given wings by instinctive fear, and Poppi thundered alongside him in her well-armored Alpha form. Normally Tora would opt to take point, his indomitable Drill Shield or stalwart Mech Arms ready to defend his softer, squishier allies against whatever might lie ahead, but this time he brought up the rear; the enemy was behind them, and in Tora’s case, right behind. As he ran for his life he soon realized that his pursuers were literally on his heels, spilling over themselves, crashing against surfaces, and flowing around obstacles like a landslide of black fur and white masks. For all his tankiness, Tora could no more turn and face them than he could a natural disaster, and whenever he lagged behind even a little a sharp blow to the shield on his back reminded him that the cat’s claws and fangs were just one step away.
For a while he and Poppi managed to keep up a good pace, hurtling up and down stairs and escalators, through tunnels and over bridges, but the farther they went the more the other Seekers left them behind. With Levitation, flow motion, and good old-fashioned long strides, they managed to steadily put distance between themselves and the duo at the back of the pack. Either that, or they took a side path after being cut off by another wave of felines. After a couple minutes Poppi suddenly realized that she must have missed a turn. In the Metro, glowing arrows and lines on the ground and the walls lit the way to the stations, but black wasn’t exactly the most eye-catching of colors. Worse still, she noticed her Masterpon breathing heavily. Without the speed or stamina for long-distance running, it couldn’t be long before Tora gave up the ghost. “Poppi!” he gasped. “Tora legs not hold out much longer!” His face turned from discomfort to dismay as more cats rounded the bend ahead of them, putting the pair on course to be caught in a disastrous pincer maneuver. “Oh no! What now, meh!?”
Poppi’s brow furrowed, and she scanned her surroundings. “Seeking alternative route.” The two of them seemed to be in some sort of indoor shopping avenue, with a hedge row interspersed with streetlights running down the middle, and only two stories beneath the low ceiling. Going up wasn’t an option, and smashing through any of these classy glass-and-curtain storefronts would be a huge gamble; if it didn’t have a back door, they’d be trapped. Her frantic search turned up no vents, nor grates among the shiny stone tiles that might provide access to an underground passage. Could they make it by flying over the crowd, with so little clearance…?
“Poppi!?” Tora quavered, unmasked fear in his voice. Only seconds remained before impact.
The artificial blade veered his way as she ran and grabbed him by one wing to pull him into her grasp. Constructing her claymore, she slid to a stop and plunged the huge wave into the ground, sending out a wave of elemental ether that matched her current Core: ice. As it coated the tiles, rendering them slick and slippery, Poppi boosted into the air. Unable to control their momentum, the two opposing mobs of yowling metro cats slid into one another at full force and went flying like bowling pins. As they groaned below him, unable to rise thanks to the ice and squabbling with one another, Tora found a look of uncertainty on his companion’s face. “Poppi not sure,” she told him, peering from one end of the cat-carpeted street to the other. “No routes available!”
For a split second Tora wavered, but as in all times of need he asked himself one important question: what would Rex-Rex do? Then he smiled, and took the Drill Shield in hand. “Then we make one!” he declared as he extended the drill bit and revved it up. Down below, the cats had started to pile up, forming a living tower to reach the two. Tora pointed his drill at the brick wall. “Now, Poppi!”
Poppi obliged, boosting forward to drive her Masterpon’s drill into the wall. The ether-infused weapon tore through the masonry and into the second floor of a cat-themed apparel shop. Yelling his most ferocious battle cry, Tora charged past a couple terrified kitties and into the far wall, which Poppi helped push him through from behind. Together they carved a path of destruction through a couple buildings, until finally they burst into a big, dimly-lit space. They fell onto a wooden platform hanging from the ceiling, and as her Masterpon sprawled Poppi grabbed the Drill Shield. She turned to face the hole they made and poured ether through the weapon to spray it with a freezing flurry. “Noponic Storm!” she called, and in just a couple seconds the way was blocked with an impervious mass of ice. With the flow of light, air, and cats thoroughly cut off, the tension began to fade, and Poppi heaved a simulated sigh. “Kitties not get through that.”
As she passed the shield back to Tora, the artificial blade realized just where the two had ended up. They stood in a big subway tunnel with a few sets of tracks, one of many that ran through all parts of the Metro as they made their confusing and circuitous connections. Her Masterpon watched the trains rattle by while catching his breath, the puller cats that ran along the track nearest to him so close he could reach a wing out and stroke its orange fur. Unfortunately for him and Poppi, it looked like these trains belonged to the Blue Line. In one direction the tunnel seemed to open up into a part of the Blue Station. Then something occurred to him, and he got to his feet. “This ticket out of here!” he told Poppi, pointing down at the train running away from the station. “Tora remember blue tracks up high. We surely see Black Station from there!”
“Just watch for signs,” Poppi warned, her eyes on the big neon adverts of various shapes that hung over the tracks with barely an inch of clearance. She and Tora waited for the next train, then jumped on top of it and were whisked away. A frantic few moments of dodging ensued, with both getting clipped and, in Tora’s case, flat-on walloped by one particularly big sign for some kind of milk bar. Soon enough, the signs came to a stop, the two not that much worse for wear, but the moment Tora went to breathe a sigh of relief he noticed something disconcerting. “Meh-meh! Look out!”
Up ahead, the tunnel came to an end, with just a cat flap to admit the train. As Tora panicked, Poppi’s eyes went to a double green track that ran above them, and she had an idea. She grabbed Tora like a beach ball and threw him, then followed with a rocket-powered superjump. They landed on the green line trains and were swiftly borne into canyon between two buildings, where even the golden light that spilled from the pawprint windows did not reveal any bottom to the pit below. Thoroughly done with dodging signs, Poppi stepped forward to carve through with her claymore, and Tora sat to let out his heavy breath. “Meeeeh. This too much excitement right after lunch.”
“Mind if I drop in?”
Both trains shook, and a tremendous noise rang out, as a furry dragon slammed down behind him. The impact bounced Tora into the air, his face one of comical shock, but the nopon landed on his feet. He raised his Drill Shield. “What now!?”
The huge creature sat with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her massive scorpion tail curled around her forelegs. “Paw-don me, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Cait Sith, and on behalf of my dear fur-iend the Empress, I am here to collect you.” She narrowed her reptilian eyes. “Won’t you come quietly?”
Poppi, looking back over her shoulder with a face of anger, chose to answer. She hot-swapped to her QT Pi form in a whirlwind of sparks and ribbons, then unleashed a wave of energy from her Variable Saber. It flew down the canyon, annihilating every sign in its path in one fell swoop. She turned and tossed the weapon to Tora, who caught the hilt and extended the blade. “Not going anywhere Tora not want,” her Masterpon added, scowling. “Please to jog on.”
“Aw, how very rude.” Cait Sith tilted her head, smiling. She lifted up a massive paw to pluck at her whiskers, and shadow magic welled around her. “In that case…”
She unleashed a whirling twister of dark power. Tora and Poppi split up to run around it on either side, with the nopon running forward to swipe at Cait Sith. She deftly dodged his slashes, then brought her paw down on him. Tora jumped back, landed in Poppi’s arms, and got promptly thrown at their foe. He planned to swing at the dragon’s face, but her tail whipped around, forcing him to change the Variable Saber to shotgun mode and change his directory with a blast. He landed on the train and went for Cait Sith’s legs with Swooshing Slash, but the dragon elegantly flipped backward to avoid the spin attack and brought her tail down in an overhead stab that roiled with shadow. Tora went to block it, but on impulse Poppi snatched him out of harm’s way, and a second later he found out why. The sting infused the train roof with dark energy, causing it to explode. Poppi leaped backward, and through the nebulous maelstrom Cait Sith sauntered, undeterred. “What’s the matter?” she purred. “You haven’t even hit me yet. Can’t bring yourself to mar my beauty, purr-haps?”
Just then, the trains shot out into open space, high up up in the Metro. They also split, with one train going up toward the cat apartments higher still, while the other wound down through the air toward the Green Station. The split forced Cait Sith to rebalance on one train as the wind whipped at her fur, and in that moment Poppi spotted it: the Black Line station, a few stories up, but currently below them. Thinking quickly, she leaped from the train with Tora in her arms, plummeting down to land in a garbage-filled alley. Cait Sith watched them go, a playful smile on her snout. “How a-mew-sing…”
On the ground, though far above ground level, Tora winced at the smell of the dumpsters. He and Poppi hurried out of the alley, covering their noses. “Good thinking, Poppi!” he told her. When they hit the street, they found the Black Station just down the road. “But won’t fuzzypon come after us?”
“We not hit her, so she not compelled to,” his companion reasoned. “Plus, did Masterpon catch whiff of perfume? She put on serious airs. High-society cat probably not so eager to jump in trash.”
“Ooh, doubly good thinking! Whoever invent Poppi must be genius” Tora sang, pleased as punch with himself as much as his partner. She nodded wearily and took off running toward the station, and as he made to follow, something caught his eye. Sitting only a few feet away, at the Latte Box cafe responsible for all the trash in that alley, was a weird-looking cat. Tora froze for a moment, expecting an attack, but the cat only stared. The nopon stared back, trying to overwhelm the stranger with his trademark unflinching eye contact, but something about the cat unnerved him. In fact, she chilled him to his core. He wilted under her gaze, looked away, and ran, not daring to look back.
A few moments and another hot-swap later, the two drilled through the side of the Black Line station, and made a beeline for the final train, loaded with teammates and just about to leave.
The Black Line train soon pulled in at a rather ordinary Yasoinaba Station, a rather small and well-lit terminus compared to the Seekers’ departure point. Thanks to the billboards in the station that mentioned a railway shutdown, it didn’t look as though anyone would be following them here, and aside from some discontent from the would-be passengers who’d been waiting around, no trace of the chaos that overtook the Metro seemed to have made it here. Everyone could breathe a well-earned sigh of relief and disembark at their leisure, for this train wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. After a station worker unhitched the big puller cat from the front and it went over to a giant cat bed to curl up, Tora made sure to waddle over and give it a good scratch. “Much nicer than last big kitty we see,” he told it, his praise barely audible over its purring.
Once both were satisfied, he rejoined the others commiserating at the entrance as they made their way out of the station. At the bottom of the stone steps they found a modern-day college town, full of coffee shops, bicycles, book stores, and students of all ages. Directly ahead lay Gutsford University itself, the trees all over its spacious campus decked out in fall colors. To the left stood the prestigious Blackwell Academy, a high school and academic oasis of art and science for over a hundred years and counting, adorned by pines and flapping flags in the cool temperate breeze. To the right stood the infamous Bullworth Academy for grades one to eight, striking in its bleak neo-gothic style, with a rugged football field situated nearby. Beyond the breezy autumnal town, alive with a restless unease and fear for the future, lay a small part of the continent’s northeastern shore. No land could be seen across the chilly, dark blue water, just a forbidding white horizon.
Once far enough from the station to turn south, however, the Seekers could see something far more impressive than this nervous, insulated educational district. In the distance, far beyond where the autumn trees gave way to scraggly yellow grass atop croppy, rocky wastes, past miles upon miles of harsh terrain where the roads snaked weirdly across and over the earth, lay a city–an immense, towering metropolis of steel that pierced the clouds, like nothing the heroes had ever seen.
As the previous riders of the Purple Line might expect, the Seekers’ train deposited them underground, but despite what they might think at first glance it wasn’t exactly the same dimly-lit, metallic blue-black station as before. This stately but neglected terminus lacked any suggestions of mossy overgrowth, and no pinkish bubbles or cool, wet mists wafted through it. Only a few ghostly sprigs, curled and dry, sprouted between the cracked tiles of the floor to swish gently as the newcomers walked by. The ceiling, with its little domes and arches supported by various columns, wasn’t as high as that of Queen’s Station. In the pale light of lumaflies in one of the few lamps the visitors could see one other train platform, though it had no tracks and the tunnel seemed to be blocked off by an intricate but heavy metal gate. That same light shone softly on the bronze of the bell beside it, and on the curled shells mixed into the masonry. Other than the two platforms, the place offered only one other feature: a chain-operated lift, too small to carry everyone at once, that would raise them a few at a time to the entrance. After all, there was no going back, even for the allies who didn't catch the train.
Outside lay a pitiable town. In a misty night, illuminated sparsely by curled lamplights so as to leave much to the imagination in the shadows, its alien shapes and silhouettes might have possessed some manner of lost grace and quiet dignity. In the light of midday, however, its rounded hovels, clustered together and sagging like long-discarded shells, seemed woefully dilapidated. It gave the impression of something abandoned, unwanted, with its glory days so long behind it that only the ancient Elderbug who sat alone on a wrought-iron bench might faintly recall a time in which the place hustled and bustled, packed with eager adventurers and full of life.
Yet even in its current state, Dirtmouth wasn’t quite lifeless. A handful of men and women well-equipped with sturdy tools and practical clothes seemed to call this place home, or at least a base of operation. They went about their business, mending their gear and making preparations, offering neither friendly greetings nor words of welcome. Everyone seemed to be hard at work, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they might be up to, for Dirtmouth stood at the edge of what could only be described as a staggeringly vast hole in the ground. The Seekers found themselves on the precipice of an awe-inspiring spiral canyon of pale red foliage and exposed bluish gray stone, full of wooden scaffolds, platforms, ramps, stairs, mine carts, rails, and other constructs, and littered with various tools of the trade, all to facilitate a single purpose: the systematic extraction of the wealth of the earth.
That said, not all of the hardy folk ferreted away around Dirtmouth or in camps around the Chasm could be said to be miners. Many seemed to be of a rougher aspect, perhaps looters, or even bandits. Countless mineshafts existed throughout the canyon, their entrances tucked away beneath the crags that spiraled down in an unerringly clockwise manner, and though clearly picked over for many years the area might very well still hold untold treasures. Most important of all, though, it featured at its very center a yawning black pit in the ground, an opening into the bowels of the earth. Given that this region seemed to exist mostly underground, it stood to reason that the Chasm was where Purple Team’s adventure would truly begin.
The escapees’ mad dash from the hordes of would-be bounty hunters brought them through a winding exterior passageway as they hunted down the source of the fresh air and chill breeze. Past the layers of insulation that separated the haven for heat-loving felines from the cold outside, past various mechanical and janitorial offices, and past a dozen or so surprised commuters the three charged, until finally they sprinted across an atrium lobby with the black cat horde on their heels and burst through one of the sets of double doors into a world of stasis. Big Band, Ace Cadet, and Wonder Red found themselves on a snowy street in an ancient, storied city, staring up at a colossal pumpkin big enough to house the Nyakuza Metro in its entirety. That same monolithic Halloween edifice, bearing the Eiffel Tower itself atop the hat whose gear-shaped brim the Seekers could not see past, looked out over a waterbound city of powdered rooftops and icy canals better suited for the wintry season of Christmas.
Behind them, the cats slowed to a stop well shy of the double doors and frosty windows, shivering as their teeth shattered. They shied away from the cold, their numbers already thinned by the journey here and their greed tempered by fatigue and discomfort at the extreme cold. Once a few of them broke ranks and ran back for the warmth of the Metro, the rest quickly followed suit. Only Lin Xiao remained, her face irate. “C-cowards!” she howled after the others, unable to avoid shivering herself. No matter how tough she might be, a sports bra and arctic temperatures clearly didn’t mix. And yet, thanks to Galeem’s influence, she could not back down. Gritting her teeth, the woman stepped out into the cold, her fists clenched. Edinburgh citizens gave her looks and kept their distance as she built up speed into a charge, headed straight for Band. “Raaaaaagh!”
The sheer scope of the Metro mob as it thundered toward the group left even the stalwart stoic Big Band blindsided, paralyzed like a deer in the headlights. In no time at all, the Seekers were outnumbered hundreds to one–even thousands to one didn’t seem too extreme an estimation. Packed so tight that the detective couldn’t see where one cat ended and another began, the horde of bounty hunters moved quickly to surround the info kiosk. When they closed in, escape would be near-impossible for those with neither uncommon agility nor the means to take to the skies.
That realization finally galvanized the vintage virtuoso into action, and he wasn’t the only one. First off the block were Raz and Therion, who called for the others to follow behind as both paved a way through the Metro’s twists and turns, the former atop his brightly-glowing Levitation ball, itself an invaluable guiding light in the indoor city’s perpetual darkness. After him ran Tora, who could really move if the situation called for it apparently, and Poppi, both trusting in the Psychonaut to steer them straight. While someone who actually rode the Black Line might be better qualified to lead the way there, neither Peacock nor Raiden were on hand to help, and Band himself -committed to the Purple Line- was in no position to lead the charge. Besides, he had different plans.
Rather than turn to follow, he stepped toward the feline throng. “I’ll buy us some time!”
As the group split in half to follow Raz and Therion, Peach hesitated. “Mr. Band, no! It’s far too early for sacrifices!”
“Who said anythin’ about sacrifices?” The one-man band deployed an enormous kick pedal, then slammed its terrific weight overhead and onto the ground. “Giant Step!”
The percussive mass beat the Metro’s hexagon-tiled floor like a gargantuan drum, sending out an unblockable earthquake. It rippled through the incoming crowd of cats, dealing no damage but knocking the entire horde off their feet and into the air. Instead of watching his handiwork, however, Band has already turned to slide after the thief. “Alright, let’s boogie!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Nadia took off after the Octopath Travelers in a rocket-assisted sprint, using her blood jets to build up speed before her legs took over. She and the others moved fast, but barely had their race against the clock down the Purple Line path begun than Nadia saw the Metro cats converge ahead of them to block the way. A problem for some, but not for Therion, Primrose, or for that matter, her. Once the thief went crowd-surfing and the dancer took flight, borne aloft by the glow of the glyphs on her scarf; Nadia forged her own path by high-jumping diagonally and extending her arms to grab hold of a balcony railing. From there she swung over the mob like a living trapeze, letting to at the apex of her arc with a flip to airdash, find another handhold, and repeat.
Band sighed. “That’s great for y’all, but I ain’t exactly a spring chicken no more!” As he drew near the cats he jumped into the air and deployed his rocket boosters from his undercarriage, blazing into the air once more. The sight of Primrose fending off Metro cats that either leaped or footstool-jumped off one another to get at her convinced him to fly higher than he needed to, sticking to open spaces to avoid hangers-on, but even then the detective wasn’t careful enough. Mere moments into his flight, a burly figure in white took a running jump off a nearby apartment complex, roaring out a ferocious battle cry. Band turned in time to block a heavy punch, but his attacker’s momentum threw him off course, and together they hurtled over and landed on the fourth-story Green Station plaza. As they skidded to a stop, Band got his first good look at his assailant -a strong woman with the ears, tail, and coat of a white tiger- just a moment before she went for a mighty two-handed wallop. Clicking his tongue, Band deployed his cymbal to parry the telegraphed blow, allowing him to follow up with a trombone strike from his knee and lean back on a music stand for a strong double kick. From there he powered forward with Brass Knuckle, only to be stopped cold. His eyebrows shot up as he peered around his mechanical arm to see that Lin Xiao actually caught the punch with her muscular arms.
Before she could do anything about it Band extended a pair of super-sized drum mallets to whack her repeatedly on the head. Surprised and disoriented, she got dragged off her feet as Band pulled his arm back and wheeled it around, bouncing her off the ground to land a real Brass Knuckle. Lin Xiao tumbled back a short distance but came to a stop by dragging her gloved fingers through the ground, then launched forward. She swept under Band’s attempt to intercept her and grappled him around the middle. He barely budged. The detective scoffed. “That ain’t gonna work, miss…whoa!” His opponent made him eat his words as she lifted him off the ground and abruptly powerbombed him back down. As he lay flat on his back, Lin Xiao jumped on top of him to start whaling on his head. She beat through his attempt to block with his mallets and landed three skull-rattling punches before his cymbals deployed to crash together with her in the middle. Stunned, she couldn’t do much as Band used Overblow to strike her with his tuba from behind, throwing her off. He rose with a black eye, dazed, only to find his foe already on him. She grabbed him again and, in another feat of Herculean strength, suplexed him into the ground. From there, it only took one terrific Tiger Fist to launch him from the plaza back down into the Metro streets.
Band crashed down near friends, but not the group he started with. He got swept up in the chaos as Red made use of Unite Sword, and along with the Wonderful One got hopelessly separated from either Black or Purple Team. They ended up at one of the lowest points in the city, where just a trickle of pale light and a whisper of wind seemed to cut through the darkness of the Metro. When Red asked if he was okay, bruised and crumpled as he was, Band gave a humorless laugh. “I seen worse,” he grunted. His attention turned as another swarm of cats came his way, with a bright-eyed Lin Xiao right in the forefront. “Just couldn’t say goodbye, huh? We gotta move,” he said, looking around for any sign of a relevant train station, but he found none. With a groan he did an about-face “Let’s follow that breeze, triple time!”
Meanwhile, Nadia was closing in on the Purple Line, but things weren’t looking good. She’d lost sight of Therion, and though she and Primrose ran alongside one another as the latter waited on her scarf, the cats were in hot pursuit. After a moment the dancer peeled away to go down a sidepath, telling the others not to wait on her. Nadia waved her off with as reassuring a voice as she could. “Good luck, see ya in a few!” Now that things had gotten serious, she felt no envy or ill will for Primrose; that lady was just another comrade. A couple seconds later, though, the feral did regret not joining her. The main entrance to the Purple Station, signified by its bright purple gates, was totally blocked. Out in front the street was packed wall-to-wall with Metro cats, and another couple rough customers stood before them. One, a muscular cat man glowered at her with a scary-looking heavy-duty weapon in his hands, part drill and part saw. The other, a catgirl like Nadia, looked like a witch. Nadia did not like those odds, and she couldn’t get through the purple gates without a pass anyway, so a little detour seemed to be in order.
As she ran in, Nadia clapped her hands together, and between her palms created a swirling orb of pure Hydro with what little Dramatic Tension she’d gathered. “This oughta give you ‘paws’!” It swelled into a frothing sphere ten feet in diameter, making her prospective opponents wary, before she slammed it down right in front of her. It erupted in a spectacular burst of water, and for even more chaos Nadia threw a couple copycats into the mix, only to then hurtle off to the right as her wave washed harmlessly around the fearful cats’ feet. With all eyes on the magical display and her trouble-making clones, none of them noticed her zip off down a narrow alley, hot-footing it past dumpsters full of old tuna cans and worn-out balls of yarn. “Hate to ‘wet’ your appetite and run, but I’m outta here!” she laughed to herself as she ran by a very fitting wall mural. Distracted by the art and her own smugness, she did not detect anything out of the ordinary until she went round a corner and a big boot roundhouse-kicked her head clean off.
As Nadia’s body slumped down and her head bounced down the alley, the leonine prizefighter Zelmer rounded the corner, an almost disappointed look on her face as she nonchalantly adjusted her jacket. “This prey is weak.”
A couple Metro cats sidled out of cover behind her. “Nyeheheh, looks like ya knocked ‘er block…boss!!!”
Zelmer whipped around as Nadia’s headless body delivered a full-force kick of her own. The lioness barely got her arms up to protect her head, only to be driven backward painfully into the wall by the force of the kick. Her attacker flowed into a turning heel kick, but Zelmer dove beneath it, rolling across the stone floor as Nadia’s hardened foot cracked the bricks where Zelmer’s head had been. She got up with a turn kick that struck Nadia’s block, pushing her back. The Metro cats jumped up behind her, but somehow the headless body saw them coming and launched into a blood-rocket lariat -made possible by her new belly scar- that sent all of them flying. Zelmer charged in only to be met with Nadia’s Cat Scratch rekka, taking both swipes before the feral went to finish with a drop kick. With a growl, Zelmer took the blow, but grabbed Nadia’s ankles and whirled her around in a giant swing before throwing her back down the alley.
The body bounced a couple times but came to a stop on her feet, right next to her head. “Nice kicks,” she said as she lifted her head onto her shoulders, then cracked her neck to both sides. The scratches on her face, courtesy of the claws on Zelmer’s boots, healed over before her eyes, leaving her with a competitive smile. “But it’ll take a lot more for me to admit…de feet.”
Zelmer snorted and began to move. Nadia crouched, embedded her claws into the stone, and backed up to stretch out her muscle fibers. After a brief moment she launched forward like a rubber band, zooming her opponent’s way. At the last moment she rolled to send her Fiber Upper, only for Zelmer to do the same thing–she dropped backward to evade and handspring off the ground with a double kick. Nadia narrowly missed, but then snapped up to her lower half in the air, narrowly evading Zelmer’s kick in turn. The two landed at the same time, turned, and came together in a loud clash, roundhouse against tail smack
“I don’t have time for this,” Nadia hissed.
Zelmer smirked. “Then I’ll make this quick.”
The feral attacked fastest, swiping twice with her claws, which the lioness dodged, before using Facepalm to thrust her head forward as a drill. As it cut into her sleeves and skin Zelmer growled, striking with her knee to knock the head away. She carried the momentum into a hop kick to Nadia’s chest, then followed through with a turn kick. Her foe sidestepped it and threw her head, bopping Zelmer’s own as she moved in to provoke a response. She stopped short and blocked as her opponent threw out a double round. As much as she hated blocking, Nadia held her ground as Zelmer advanced, feinting once, then twice, then turning the second feint into a hook kick. This she ducked easily without a head, allowing her to Limber Up with ease. Scratched and angry, Zelmer moved to punish Nadia’s obvious overextension, only to fall victim to her frame trap as the feral’s head counterhit her from behind. “One step a-head!” Nadia crowed as she drove her elbow into Zelmer’s belly, then pivoted around to slap her in the face with everything she had. The lioness staggered, but found her footing, and turned the sideways momentum into a rib-shattered spin kick that came around with enough force to kick up the dust. Unfortunately, it cruised right between Nadia’s halves as she split herself at the midsection. For a split second the two locked eyes, the feral’s teasing and the lioness’s full of rage, before Nadia reconnected and pushed her into the wall.
As she bounced off, disoriented, Nadia grabbed her in a rear naked choke, her arms fastened around Zelmer’s neck tighter and tighter. The taller woman struggled, driving the cat burglar into the wall once, twice, but Nadia would not be dislodged. After a few seconds Zelmer’s fight left her, and she began to lose consciousness. “Too big for your boots,” Nadia quipped, sensing victory. Rather than wait for the end, she released her grip, grabbed Zelmer by the head, and bonked her noggin against the wall one last time. By the time her foe crumpled to the floor next to her cronies, the feral had taken off running. A back door from this alley, used by janitors to empty the wastebins inside Purple Station, would give her the access she needed.
I do have some thoughts on these two applications. Specifically, Ichiban has Strengths that would better fit as Powers, and a lot of what he can do in his sheet encapsulates things that everyone can do in the World of Light, or things that are a result of many of its elements working on video game logic.
How would Essence of Mayhem work? I see that it assumes that once the first hit lands, the rest of them are guaranteed. That means the enemy is essentially helpless. Does it occur in its own sort of pocket dimension like it does in game while time is frozen on the outside, does time just freeze around the attack while it's being delivered, or does time not freeze and the attack is just invincible? This is an issue I myself haven't solved with Tora's Chain Attack, which is part of why I haven't used it.
RPG nut is a lot all in one. Wound Ignore and Inventory can both be Strengths in their own right. The other stuff seems like it should be less on Ichiban and more on the world. In this world there's lots of food that heals by its own merit because that's just what it does. Certain weapons, abilities, attacks, etc can all apply buffs and debuffs, and everyone can get their weapons upgraded by blacksmiths because that's what they do. For the downsides, basically everyone has an unwritten MP and stamina. Everyone is vulnerable to status ailments
Poundmates should probably be a Power, unless it's literally "Ichiban knows how to call people on his phone, and he's bizarrely good at convincing them to drop what they're doing and come to him as fast as they can"
If Hello Work, Mobile Edition means he can magically and instantly change gear, attributes, and abilities, then that should be a Power.
For Ganondorf I don't have much to say really. Dark Magic should be a Power. Conversely, having just Warlock Fist as a whole Power feels a little underwhelming. If individual moves are Powers, it'll take a lot to build up even his basic moveset.
Level 11 Tora (72/110) Level 11 Poppi (72/110) Level 8 Big Band (16/80), Level 10 Nadia (27/100) Koopa Troop and Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Geralt’s @Multi_Media_Man, Ace Cadet, Octopath Travelers, and Pit’s @Yankee, Blazermate, Sectonia, and Susie’s @Archmage MC, Sakura, Jesse, and Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Raz and Red’s @TruthHurts22, Omori’s [@Majora’s End], Rubick’s @Scarifar, Bede’s @Crimson Flame, Roxas’ @Double, the Mercenaries, the Wonderful Ones, and the Phantom Thieves Word Count: 3070
New items obtained (from Elephante, Meerca, Quiggle, Gill Grunt x2) Low-definition Pirate Hat Better for playing pirate than being one Pirate Paint Brush An incredibly rare find. At first glance it seems to have no function, but if applied at the Fountain of Dreams, it can turn anyone into a pirate version of themselves Wind-up Froggy A plastic toy that can hop around if wound up Fish x2 A chunk of meat with the scales still on. Can be prepared in any number of ways to make a tasty dish
If Nadia expected to fade into the background following her short-and-sweet introduction, she quickly got proven wrong. One of the details she elected to share with her new cohort earned her some extra attention. Among the various strangers who’d gathered to meet the Tinkerslug contingent on the docks was a lanky young boy with a rather uniquely shaped head and what appeared to be a severe jaundice, and once she made mention of her unique ability he inundated her with questions. She had herself a chuckle at his enthusiastic curiosity.
“I could answer all that,” she told him, “But showin’ ya might be the ‘necks’ best thing. Check this out.” Nadia reached up and took hold of her head by the ponytail, using at as a handle to lift her head from her shoulders. She swiped the other through the space between them, showing that her neck had been completely, cleanly, and easily severed. A few gasps and incredulous stares accompanied her little feat. “As ya might guess, this ain’t somethin’ I can teach,” she told him, her words tinged with laughter. “I can separate along any of my scars. Blood’s under my control, but I can always make more if I love some, or use it to do stuff. Guess you can say I’m a cut above!”
After that she put her head back where it belonged and fell silent, happy to give the inquisitive little guy his own time to shine. Though she liked the limelight as much as any outgoing person, her looks earned her enough attention as-is, and so many eyes on her just felt uncomfortable sometimes. Raz introduced himself as a Psychonaut, and his mention of entering minds intrigued her. While that sounded like a massive invasion of personal privacy, and from a ten-year-old circus clown no less, Nadia wondered if the kid really could help her sort through some of her confusion and pain. Even for someone as energetic, fun-loving, and reckless as herself, peace of mind was a valuable thing. Hopefully Raz possesses some himself; flat-out dying in water was one hell of a weakness.
Wonder Red introduced himself next, speaking on behalf of the CENTINELS. Though not anyone that Tora, Poppi, and Big Band knew for very long, they seemed like good people. A little cheesy, but refreshingly professional, was the impression they left with Big Band. Tora wondered where the rest of the hundred-man international team might be. Roxas followed in Red’s footsteps, and though he spared only a handful of details, his relation to Organization XIII made him seem important. His commentary left Big Band with more questions than answers, and hungry for more. In a world of stasis, its oblivious populace kept perpetually in thrall, the existence of an independent Organization operating with its own agenda could not be ignored.
When Primrose stepped up to introduce herself, she did so with a stupendous flourish, putting on a little spectacle for her new allies that Nadia couldn’t help but admire…grudgingly. Through no fault of her own, the talented dancer ended up making Nadia feel a little inferior. Primrose was just so gorgeous, so glamorous, so elegant and powerful, all perfectly wrapped up in one stunning package. Put the rudimentary dances she learned from Shantae to shame, too. Normally the feral wasn’t one to get hung up on comparisons, but she also noticed that Ace couldn’t seem to look away from this woman, and somehow that stung a little. Could that be a touch of jealousy? Nadia frowned. Maybe this newfound competitiveness came as a result of her spirit fusion, or maybe it only just now manifested because she found someone she really liked. Lost in thought, she barely noticed the dancer’s companion Therion, though the thief did not make a spectacle of himself to begin with.
Ace said his piece next, introducing himself as a well-trained, well-equipped slayer of fantastical beasts. His job description and oversized equipment painted him as a frontline battle companion that Tora and Poppi would be happy to fight alongside. After that, Midna and the Koopa Troop picked up the trend Primrose started of showing off and carried it even farther, putting both abilities and egos on display in a show of power and braggadocious bravado. Band noted with some amusement the royals’ opposing boasts; if Midna saved time and Bowser conquered time, times must be interesting indeed. Tora, meanwhile, was just happy to see his fellow gearhead again. Not since Peach’s Castle had he and Junior really gotten the chance to put their heads together. Kamek looked a little different than he remembered, though that line of thinking quickly gave way to an interest in the Snaktivator she produced.
Sectonia went after, and she even managed to rope in Blazermate in order to try and impress the others with her magic. Once her turn came around, the Medabot deployed all her features and constructs too. Tora couldn’t wait to have a dedicated healer again, even if upgrades like Buster-Mode helped Tora take care of himself. Susie went next, but Tora’s mind drifted elsewhere. He had happened to realize that out of everyone gathered here, only Bowser, Blazermate, and himself remained from the original group of strangers who once gathered at the knoll at the edge of the southern badlands to defeat Kirby. It was a sobering thought.
Karin certainly introduced herself with aplomb, and with a level of pride that Poppi hadn’t been expecting. The martial artist took pains to make sure everyone knew just how accomplished she was. Grandiose attitudes were nothing new to Poppi, given her time with Sectonia and Bowser, but the phrase ‘prove yourselves worthy of fighting at my side’ came across as a little insulting from a newbie. Her comment about the Nopon manner of speech did not elude Poppi, either. The moment that Karin needed an immovable shield between her and certain doom, or salvation from its death’s door, she would realize just how valuable these peons around her could be.
In contrast, Sakura made a much more modest entrance. Her fun fact about hot dogs earned her the admiration and respect of Tora, who figured that anyone who loved sausages as much as he did couldn’t possibly be a bad person. Plus, she was cute, friendly, and maybe just a little dumb, all very endearing qualities.
Geralt introduced himself, though to Tora and Poppi his abilities were well-known. The events of the fight at the crystalized farmstead in the Ancestral Steppe had been seared into their memory. Helpfully the Witcher explained away some of the overlap between himself and Ace, which earned some respect from Band. Raw power was nice, but experience didn’t come cheap. After the grizzled, slightly bestial veteran came the bright-eyed youth Pit, the very definition of ‘happy to be here’. Omori followed him up, explaining about powers that derived from emotions. Band’s thoughts were elsewhere. What was that now, five preteen boys on the team, counting Tora? He, Raz, Junior, Pit, and Omori should be out there enjoying their lives, not risking them in a fight like this. If -or more likely, when- death came knocking, would not care that they were children.
When she went Jesse kept things simple and to-the-point, even deigning to drop some info that might be important later. Poppi logged the woman’s mention of a city in danger up north. While she could not yet venture a guess as to what city that might be, one thing was certain: this world needed a lot of saving. Her introduction left just two people, though only one elected to say anything: a rather proud young man who talked highly of his skill with Pokemon. After remembering her Croagunk, Poppi figured it wouldn’t take much to be a better Pokemon trainer than her. Maybe this Bede could give her some pointers. As for the spooky-looking sorcerer, only time would tell, it seemed. Not everyone would be the sort to make nice like this.
When the introductions finally concluded, Peach was all smiles. No matter what she or the others had gone through to get here, as long as the world’s heroes stood united, the future seemed bright. “Okay then. Now that we’ve gotten to know one another a little, let’s get started on our first mission…lunch!” She pointed her gloved finger up toward the Clock Tower, high up on the hill that Twilight Town rested on. “That’s where we’re going, right? Where the Metro station is, I mean. So, let’s make our way up through this…” She squinted in order to make out the name on a nearby street sign. “Market Street toward the train station. On the way, we can buy enough food for everyone, as well as anything else we need. It’s a beautiful day here, so we can eat outside as pool information and figure out who’s going where. If anyone needs some money…” She pulled out a Wallet purchased from the Argentum Trade Guild and poured out a handful of gold coins into her pocket, just a fraction of the wealth now housed within the magic Wallet’s infinite depths. “The treasury of the Mushroom Kingdom will provide!”
She glanced at LeFwee, still smoldering where he lay. “...And let’s make sure we throw these pirates somewhere, too.”
Forty-five minutes later, a few large, checkered tablecloths had been laid out across a grassy hillside on the upper outskirts of Twilight Town, roughly halfway between where the western perimeter road ended and the coniferous forest began. Separated from the acrid haze of the Sulfur Pools on the other side of these hills by the sloped expanse of fragrant pines, this hillside offered an excellent view past the Clock Tower and down across the town itself, all the way to the water. Those Seekers tasked with purchasing food had procured a trove of ingredients for sandwiches, including tasty cheese, fresh bread, savory salami, luscious ham, and vegetables like tickles and tomatoes that could be sliced up and added to sandwiches or eaten as-is if so desired. Drinks aside from water were only a short walk away, as the cafes around the Central Station’s plaza offered coffees, teas, fruit juices, and more. Other food and drink, of course, was up to the buyers’ (and financier’s) discretion.
Not everyone had been getting supplies for the midday feast, however. When the team passed a hairdresser called Seabreeze Salon on Market Street, Nadia discretely slipped inside. Pretty as long hair might be, Nadia didn’t care much for it, especially now that knew Primrose had an even bigger, more voluminous, and more lustrous ponytail than she did. In just a few minutes she emerged with her hair back in a short bob cut, albeit still with Massachusetts’ hair color, black on the inside and white on the outside. To her annoyance Nadia realized that she’d lost the hair dye she purchased at some point, probably in the river; she really needed a better way to carry her things instead of constantly losing them. A few others made their own stops as well. Vandham and the mercenaries took the chance to stop at the Militia headquarters, for instance, and deposit their piratical prisoners after an impromptu meeting with the boss.
While eating, the Seekers spoke, and the biggest topic was naturally where the Metro would be taking them. With such a miraculous transportation system the World of Light was their oyster, but they needed to avoid spreading themselves too thin. This applied even more considering that Vandham and the other mercenaries would be headed back to Alcamoth once their business here concluded, and that some sort of undisclosed discovery by the Phantom Thieves meant that they would be taking the Gray Line no matter what. Commander Nelson relayed Deadman’s request for help in the Dystopiascape, specifically in the biggest metropolis known to the World of Light, Midgar. A brief overview of its internal struggles, including the feuding powers within the city and the upcoming presidential election, as well as the Ever Crisis that assailed it from without, convinced the heroes that this was one cry for help they couldn’t ignore. Plus, as some Yellow Team members brought up, their acquaintance Goldlewis Dickinson would be there to help them, too. Once they established a foothold in Midgar, the Seekers could use the knowledge and resources gained during their time there to find and defeat the Dystopiascape’s Guardian.
Black Line it was, then. But would that be all? A massive group would be that much harder to manage, and in all likelihood cause more problems than it solved. The discussion soon turned to where a secondary team might be headed. Everyone considered the Twilight Forest, the Forbidden Kingdom, and the Frozen Highlands, but ultimately decided on the Under. It seemed like as good a place to start as ever, with more adventure and fewer complications than might be found elsewhere. It was settled: the Dystopiascape and the Under would be the next challenges the Seekers of Light would tackle. After some deliberation, the two teams came to be as well.
Susie, Peach, Tora, Poppi, Raz, Red, Geralt, Bede, Midna, Blazermate, Pit, Roxas, Sakura, and Karin would take the Black Line, while, Sectonia, Ms Fortune, Big Band, Omori, Rubick, Primrose, Therion, Bowser, Junior, Kamek, Rika, Jesse, and the Ace Cadet would take the Purple. The fourteen-thirteen split made sense, and with the teams scrambled everyone would have a chance to work alongside allies both new and old.
A few of those present, informed about new possibilities during the meet and greet, took the chance to request the use of the Snaktivator or Peach’s soul-taking services.
Notable spirit consumed: Harbinger (Torso) The host has gotten a little taller and her torso has become a bit beefier, bringing it more in line with her hips in terms of size. The skin is somewhat mottled, as if healed after an extensive burn, though it is hidden beneath a black priest’s cassock, buttoned up. There’s also a stole, though its frayed, bug-eaten appearance leaves a lot to be desired. In terms of personality, the host is more enthusiastic about burning things. This spirit confers the Strength Tempered Flesh, increasing effective HP and bodily defense appreciably. It also confers the Weakness Mighty Glacier, decreasing running and flying speed somewhat
Spirit extracted: Florami
New Striker spiritbound: Florami An adult-form spectrobe of impressive power and floral appearance. It can use Flower Ray to shoot a couple energy blasts from the flower buds on its chest on a medium cooldown, or Bloom Blast to spin and shoot a graceful, yet devastating 8-way blast attack on a long cooldown. While active, it regenerates some HP for Sectonia, but it cannot be active unless attacking
Briefly the picnickers also touched on a couple other causes for concern. Organization XIII presented an unknown extra factor in their campaigns, with some of its members helping the Seekers, and others unabashedly hindering them. Their goal seemed to be the eradication of Galeem’s Guardians, but they also worked in secrecy, and Roxas’ past painted them as enemies with a sinister motive. The other issue was a new one: the Consul. An individual who’d seemingly marshaled the denizens of the Sea of Serendipity into one force despite their past opposition, and pointed them directly at the heroes. While little could ultimately be said about him, what happened at Port O’ Panic seemed like enough to say with certainty that the Consul was someone to watch out for.
Finally, with their meals and discussions concluded, the Seekers wrapped up their picnic and made for Central Station to begin the next step of their grand adventure.
They went in the peaceful but subtly melancholic golden glow of an eternal sunset, but as ever the dusk cast long shadows. Atop the Clock Tower itself, no fewer than thirteen such shadows perched in the darkness. Some were tall, and some were short. Some were male, and some female. Some brawny, and some slender. None wielded their weapons, though one held a camera. The affected poses of sophistication, curiosity, flippancy, boredom, severity, excitement, and more, but one thing united them all, aside from their black coats. Not one of them felt a thing–just emptiness, where their hearts should be.
“Aw, now doesn’t that just warm the cockles,” one of the nobodies drawled as he sat on the precipice of the Clock Tower, peering down on the Seekers with one golden eye. “Nothin’ like teary reunion, eh guys?”
“Wot? Surely you en’t alludin’ to us there, scahface,” the shortest Nobody chirped, crossing her arms. “Dunno oo’s ‘appy to see your ugly mug.”
The first one snickered. “As if! We’re just here to wish them luck.”
“What good will luck do them?” another Nobody criticized in a sharp, slightly nasal monotone. “If they mean to achieve their goal, what they need is more power.”
Sighing, the first one shook his head. “Spoken like a true runner-up. You of all people should know, raw strength ain’t what always lets the heroes save the day. Nor speed, nor smarts, nor skill. Not even bravery!”
“It’s true,” a tall one said, his hood stretched over his cube-shaped head. He produced a playing card, then spread it into an entire deck of fifty-two. “No matter the player, there’s one factor Nobody can account for. Luck of the draw.” Without looking he pulled one card from the fan, vanished the rest, and then turned the card to look at what he’d drawn. It was the Ace of Diamonds. “Wonder how this hand plays out.”
“Nothin’ to do but wait and see. Unless they need a little nudge here and there,” the first one replied. . He clapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Ramaxi, Hallextram.” Two of the female nobodies stepped forward. “Kudos to ya both for a job well done. No rest for the wicked though, got a new task for ya. Thanks to that little meet and greet, we now know there’s someone we oughta pay a visit to. Someone I thought we left behind.”
Hallextram nodded. “Understood.” Portals of darkness opened around the shadows, and into them the Nobodies disappeared. Only she and Ramaxi remained for a moment, their eyes on the Seekers far below. “They seem happy,” she murmured. “Even knowing how long and difficult the path ahead will be.” She held out her gloved hand and stared at it pensively. “When this is all over…could we be happy, too?”
“A Nobody doesn't have a right to know,” Ramaxi whispered. “Nor does it even have the right to be. Corpses such as us…should be left well alone.” The two stared a moment longer, then in a heavy silence, left.
In the darkness, an incessant rattling noise accompanied the beam of light that shone from the backmost reaches of the room, projecting the image through the pitch and onto the far wall. There an enormous screen rested beneath the dangling curtains, their tassels limp and still given the utter lack of wind. Reflected off the screen, that light gave form to the stage that lay beneath it, the twin curved staircases that led down to the auditorium seating, and the stalls themselves. Most of the seats were empty, but scattered throughout were a few handfuls of curious attendees, their forms given only the vaguest distinction from the shadows by the glare of the screen. Each guest was appropriately dressed for the occasion, and through their suits bore little variance between one another, no two helmets looked exactly alike. These guests all sat apart from one another, and not one of them said a word to each other.
For the most part, they kept their eyes glued to the silver screen before them, especially now that the film had reached its climax. Some of them oohed and aahed over the spectacle, diverted by impressive displays of skill and dramatic reversals of fortune. Shouts of encouragement or derision accented the decisive moments. “Finish her off!” one might yell, or “don’t just stand there,” or “where did that come from?” The spectators insulted and criticized as they pleased, or showed their indifference with a yawn. When the monochrome boy stabbed the old lizard through the heart, and his young grandson wailed his sorrow to the heavens, they savored the rich pathos of the tragedy. When the scrappy brunette got tied to a cannonball and fired away with a yell, uproarious laughter ensued. A couple gasps followed the apparent assassination of the well-armed shipgirl, only to turn to a smattering of cheers when she stood up again to bear the hopes of her late friend, dispatched with such groan-inducing anticlimax by the medical bot. Exultation then followed as she finally pinned the squirrely catgirl down to give her just desserts, but that soon fell to disappointment as the dirty fighter then seized the day. Several nodded their heads at the honorable resolution of the final duel between the sword-wielding warriors, and when that cowardly pirate captain found himself utterly alone and helpless at last, many a chuckle could be heard. Before long, all hope was lost for the denizens of the Sea of Serendipity, and the snap of the fairy’s spine punctuated the end of their resistance. The victors gathered their spoils, and in their captured vessel sailed on to parts unknown.
With the film concluded, the screen went dark, and with it the whole of the theater. Just a moment later, however, a singular spotlight came on above the stage. It illuminated a tall figure in cherry-red armor, his helmet crested with an arch like the battlements of a tower and flanked by half-discs like overlarge ears.
“Welcome back to the stage of history, eternally retold,” he declared, bowing politely to the auditorium. After straightening up, he stared out into the darkness, his dark eyes visible through the X-shaped slit in his visor. “And it would appear that we have quite the healthy turnout, as well. Fourteen is nothing to scoff at for such a ramshackle production, mustered up on such a tight schedule. How long has it been since this place saw so many of us?”
“Not long enough,” spat a pointed, almost venomous voice. A spotlight fell upon the owner to reveal a helmet with the visage of a fanged tragedy mask, adorned by curled horns like bat wings. The man sat upon his cape with his legs crossed, his elbow perched on the arm of his chair so he could rest his chin on his fist. “It was not by my hand that I am once again giving audience. Tell me, S. Why have we been beckoned hence by such an insolent knave as yourself? Merely for a smidgen of entertainment?”
The owner of another voice, old and cantankerous, cleared his throat. “Don’t be so hasty, D.” A spotlight shone down on a domed helmet surrounded in tubes and medical apparatus. “Like it or not, this concerns us both. Your territory’s been awfully quiet lately, has it not?”
D sounded as incredulous as he was scornful. “Siding with this maverick, O? Hmph! Eager to get back to playing with the dead, are we? Or do you have some other bent, you miserable pile of secrets?” A mixture of anger and fear made O trip over his words, and with a grumble he fell silent, while D rolled his eyes.
“Anyone with their wits about them could guess why we’re here.” An even, mature voice brought forth a light that revealed a sinuous helmet with a white mask face dotted by tech lines and recessed eyes. “He has found another band of brave heroes who mean to stand against the flow.”
“Really, I thought it was a social visit.” His tone sarcastic, D glared at the speaker for the implied insult. “That was a rhetorical question, Y. What I want is an explanation. What makes these heroes worthy of our time. If I didn’t know better, I’d say S wanted there to be heroes!”
“Surely you don’t mean to try our patience again, S?” Light flooded onto a burly Consul as he rose from his seat, his ice-blue eyes glaring out from his centurion-styled helm. “You cried wolf once before,” he said, his voice naturally gruff and hard. “You were so sure these ‘heroes’ would be the ones to give us a run for our money, but they folded like a cheap suit, and all we got for our efforts was wasted time. What makes you think this time is any different?”
“Hey, hey, now.” Another light announced the presence of a shorter figure with a helmet shaped like the sun, marked with jagged zig-zags in the shape of a mouth and eyes. “Sit down, U. As fun as it’d be to watch you all at each other’s throats, don’t you think we oughta hear him out, at least? He’s the same as any of us, after all. And did give us a good show!” The Consul closed his eyes, smiling. “I mean, did you hear those dulcet death throes? ‘I’m sorry, everyone’...’forgive me…’ They sure love apologizing, huh? A lot of good it’ll do them when they’re dead, heheh.”
“Thank you O, F,” The man on stage tilted and nodded his head in gratitude. “What I shall endeavor to bring to your collective attention is, indeed, no small matter. My past transgression is, of course, my deepest and most bitter regret, which is why I bided my time to collect enough information to truly certify my position. I do not intend to ask the world of you, my friends; merely that we should lift a finger or two, when the opportunity presents itself. For these ‘heroes’, as you say, are the real deal.”
A number of voices broke out at the same time, most of them dismissive. But through the chaos ripped a rich baritone, possessed of a subtle ethereal echo that bore the depth of time. “Compose yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. Preposterous as they might seem at first blush, our colleague’s concerns are more well-founded than you likely realize.” The voice came from a helmet shaped like a heart clasped in mechanical instrumentation, bearing nine crests and a bevy of eyes.
“A?” Some of the Consuls shifted in their seats, in particular a diminutive one with a drill-shaped helmet on his huge head. His growly voice sounded impressed. “If you’re backing S up, this can’t just be more bologna. But my dominion is as absolute as ever. Not one whiff of trouble in or around the Plateau.” He crossed his arms, narrowing his slitted orange eyes. “What sort of damage are we looking at?”
S adopted a thinking pose. “I’m so very glad you asked, R. As it happens, our new heroes have amassed quite the little list of accolades, and in a rather short time as well. In less than one week’s time, no fewer than four of the Guardians have been defeated, and their spirits laid claim to. Opposing factions have been eliminated across the Deep Blue Seaside and Sandswept Sky, and the people of places like Limsa, Lumbridge, Peach’s Castle, and Al Mamoon rally in their heroes’ support.” The revelations were met with silence, but nobody was jeering now. S gave a wry smile and continued. “This state of affairs cannot, however, be attributed to inordinate strength, or even sheer murderous intent. As you just saw, even the motley crew of blowhards, has-beens, and civilians I quickly gathered in the Sea of Serendipity gave our heroes a run for their money, even if no casualties ensued. We’ve reached this stage -both literally and metaphorically, I might add- because of negligence and complacency. We’ve rested on our laurels so long, we’ve flattened them.”
“Hey, speak for yourself, Stretch!” an obnoxious, childish male voice called out from the front row. No eyes could be seen within the helmet that resembled a boar’s head, with four bent spider legs jutting out from either side, as the portly little Consul stared up at the man on stage. “Everything’s just fine where I am, and getting to the Guardian is impossible! You just want the rest of us to cover up for your mistakes!”
As F snickered, another voice arose in reproach. This one was female, albeit roboticized, and though monotone her delivery carried a certain ridicule. “As much as it must sting to be reproached once in your pampered little life, P, consider the bigger picture for a moment. If we’ve really let four Guardians slip through our fingers in one week, we may be in danger. Our greatest enemy is not a group of heroes, but ourselves.” She turned her semicircular helmet around the room, bathing all in her yellow gaze. “We should begin by asking the corresponding Consuls what happened in their regions.”
“What are you talking about, G?” P whined. “We OWN this world!”
“This world is but a fleeting shadow, on the backdrop of eternity.” From the likeness of a snarling, fanged demon with a plated helmet of its own issued an elegant woman’s voice, soft but charged with power. “And eternity is in our hands. We cannot allow it to slip away.”
“Too true.” S took a deep breath in through his nose. As he continued to speak, images from previous films appeared on the screen behind him. “So. The slain Guardians are Megadragonbowser.” A clip of the fiery brawl in the throne room of Peach’s Castle played. “Ender Dragon. “ A shot of the giant monstrosity crashing through the End. “The Orphan of Kos.” A pitch-black giant loomed over a tar-covered beach. “And Red Eye.” From on high the Seekers dove down to finish off the giant worm as it lay impaled upon countless supports.
“For my realm, I was unaware of them for a time, and while visiting Lumbridge mistook the newcomers for simple adventurers. Only after an uproar surrounding the Guild Master did I begin to connect the dots. After that I began to monitor them more closely, and resolved to let them challenge the Ender Dragon to see if they possessed the power to vanquish it. Afterward, I began to concoct my plan.” He shook his head. “My opposite number, M, was otherwise engaged at that time, and elected not to appear today, either. I cannot speak to him, or to the other regions…”
A rubbed the chin of his helmet. “I admit, I was rather engrossed in other affairs. The depths of the Bottomless Sea provide quite the diversion. With the Maw out of commission, however, I shall have to requisition ever more exquisite horrors from the deep to stoke the flames of war.”
“We were all just busy, I’m sure. Lot of ground to cover, y’know?” The husky, strident voice came from one of the biggest, brawniest Consuls in the room. Her helmet resembled a skull nestled in a mane of tentacles. “Tell you what, though. If the folks from Limsa think they’ve seen the last of conflict, they’re about to be in for a rude awakening. I drummed up a group with a lot of attitude who's gonna shake things up in the Seaside.”
“What, Abyssal Fleet just not doin’ it for ya anymore, I?” A lean Consul in a one-eyed helmet drawled.
I shook her head, her disgust clear in her voice. “They are stagnation itself. It’s not that they do not change–it is that they cannot. They do not think, or desire, or adapt. They merely charge forward, and if they fall, their replacements charge over them. They are played out, and life is wasted upon them. So I leave them to sink, and have chosen for Limsa a new enemy. One that will happily learn lessons from their broken bones, and appreciate wisdom more than they do their teeth. You understand, yes, H?”
“Wow, huh, good luck with that,” H told her. “Well, in my neck of the woods, I’m actually pretty happy those ‘heroes’ of yours broke Red Eye outta the mountain. Their little fight wiped out so much track that Al Mamoon’s ground to a stop, leaving them no choice but to accept an offer from FeeCo. Soon we’re gonna have the whole desert hooked up and fightin’ like cats. Business is BOOMING, baby!”
A Consul with a helmet like a chicken-shaped totem shook her head ruefully. “You forget that neither side is supposed to truly defeat the other,” she reminded him.
“Hey, you of all people should know I play to win, X!” H chuckled. “Maybe you’re just backing the wrong horses. I mean, hordes of filthy bandits and voodoo magic against FeeCo tech? Please!”
Before they could start bickering, S spoke up. “What about the Mushroom Kingdom, then? I understand that they swept through in less than a day, but how fare things now?”
“Don’t you look at me funny!” a slightly shrill old voice insisted. Its owner could be seen under the spotlight, his spiked helmet stylized like a brain protruding from a skull. “I’ve been preoccupied trying to get that fool Eggman started, only for him to go and lose the factory I gave him! My beautiful machine army, up in smoke! Meanwhile, K’s been off playing castle to the west! Didn’t even show up today, see?”
Consul A tilted his head. “If machines are your desire, W, perhaps I can direct you and your erstwhile associate to a certain elephantine derelict on the perimeter of my domain. In their cups locals whisper tales of a Metal Devil, a relic of an advanced civilization.”
“Is that so? Metal Devil, hmm? I like the sound of that. Perhaps I shall give my pawn another chance.” W rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
After a long drink from his glass, D slammed his hand down. “Enough talk! If we mean to actually do something, it would behoove us to know where things stand.”
“Of course.” S cleared his throat again. “The heroes employ Alcamoth as their base of operations. It is well-equipped, and will soon finish repairs on an airship that can cover the whole continent. Right now the heroes are on their way to Twilight Town to use the Metro to begin the hunt for more Guardians, but we don’t know where they’re headed. They also have help from the Organization.”
O snorted. “Feh, the Organization. They’ve been a thorn in our side, sure, but that’s all they are. They know they can’t take any risks if they mean to achieve their goal. Let them keep their shadows. We are the light, and they know it.”
“Plus, we literally outnumber them two to one.” P drummed his feet against the legs of his seat. “If we’re actually going to do something, why not just all jump them at once? Get it over with nice and fast.”
A mixture of snorts and laughter greeted his proposal. “Do you forget who we are?” D scoffed. “We are the custodians of this world! Its very rulers! To resort to such a base tactic would be to announce to all the world -and worst of all, one another- that we possess neither power, nor wisdom, nor courage. Do you truly have no shame, child of man?”
With an annoyed grunt P slumped down in his chair.. “Ugh. It was just a question.”
B interlaced her fingers as she considered all angles. “Have we any word from Master Hand?”
“Off working in mysterious ways, I’m sure,” U jeered. “Forget the oversized glove. Any actual action is up to the likes of us!” He pounded his fist into his palm for emphasis.
“Hmm.” Another Consul earned a light, which shone down on a bucket helm with the face of a clock and a forked adornment. His voice was deep, equal parts sophisticated and menacing. “If the time has come to dispose of Alcamoth, perhaps I could convince L to make use of that Tech Plant she’s always gibbering about. Would you agree to a joint venture, H?”
It took a moment for H to understand the proposal. “Huh? You mean…? Oh, with Zurvan? Yeah, uh, sure thing, N. If you actually convince that frosty bitch, that’ll definitely do the trick. Hate to be those guys, whoo.” He laughed as he pretended to pull at his collar. “Wouldn’t mind watching, though.”
“As for the rest of us,” S mused. “We have much and more to do. Let us stay sharp, keep our noses to the grindstones, and make ready. Whenever and wherever they turn up, we should be ready to oppose them.”
“Very well. Myself and C shall arrange a warm welcome for them in Midgar” Y murmured, nodding his head. “If he hasn’t already begun, of course.” With that, he disappeared in a flash of purple sparks, and the spotlight above him snapped off.
“Funny that neither Consul from Twilight Forest bothered showing up, either” R grumbled.
“I’ll spread the love.” Beneath his mask, F grinned. “I can hardly wait to get T involved. Ohoh, this should be fun.”
B took a long, slow breath. “I suppose I must let J know, as well. One can only hope that she will not go overboard.”
They left, and the others quickly followed suit. One spotlight at a time the room returned to darkness. In just a couple moments, only a couple remained. Rather than vanish, N stood in his chair. “Something occurred to me. A delightful little bit of entertainment. You mentioned that they would soon reach Nyakuza Metro. I happen to know an easy and discreet way to put a dampener on their plans, should I make it in time.”
A brief moment passed in silence before G replied. “It sounds like you’d better get moving, then,” she told him. “I’d join you to see what comes of your little test, but it looks like I’ve got other plans. Try to leave a little for the rest of us, will you?”
“Time will tell,” N replied. A second later he was gone, and G right behind him.
That left only S. His eyes narrowed as he gazed out into the darkness. “Brave, foolhardy heroes…how far will you get this time?”
Then he vanished, and darkness ruled the stage of history once more.
“This place is fur-iggen’ AWESOME!”
The bustling, neon-and-brick enormity of Nyakuza Metro took Nadia completely by surprise. She’d seen her fair share of train stations and thought she knew what to expect, but an old-fashioned nighttime city totally exceeded her expectations. At first she assumed that this place featured the same sort of magically-locked time of day as Twilight Town, but upon closer inspection it turned out that the whole miniature metropolis existed one hundred percent indoors. It was weird but wonderful, and once she overcame her initial awestruck incredulity Nadia loved every inch of it. Everything was cat-themed, from the tunnel entrances to the vacuums, and no matter where she turned her delighted gaze she found something that made her smile.
“I mean, street food? Scratchin’ posts? Heat lamps? Giant kitties and cat tower apartments? This is a feline paradise!” Just a few minutes into her new mission, Nadia already found herself distracted. ‘Smitten’ might be a better word, in fact; this place offered just about everything she could ever want. The Metro, laden with cat-themed curiosities and perfect for parkour, just begged to be explored, and when she spotted a glittering jewelry store her eyes sparkled with greed. But she couldn’t afford to take a detour given her present company. With a heavy sigh, Nadia jogged to catch up with the others, resolving to take in as much of the Metro as she could while making her way through to the Purple line. After passing a group of Metro Cats, though, her disappointment gave way to a fit of the giggles. “Oh my gosh, aren’t these little guys cute? Their voices are makin’ me crack up. I swear I just heard one say, ‘if my train doesn’t arrive right meow, I’m gonna be late!’” When she mimicked the feline’s speech, her impression wasn’t just spot-on. It was immaculate, as if she and the Metro Cats somehow shared the same voice, albeit with a different inflection. Nadia blinked a few times, surprised and a little weirded out, then shrugged and carried on.
“Sadly, it ain’t as simple as findin’ the right train station,” she heard Band saying. “In order to enter any station, we need the right color train pass, and the only money they take here is pons.” He pointed to a nearby brick wall covered in graffiti, where a handful of the bright green crystals floated in a row going upward. “Those emerald-lookin’ things, see? Meanin’ we gotta stretch our legs a li’l before we can hit the tracks.”
Before the grand pon hunt could get underway, however, a loud crackly static noise echoed through the Metro. Everywhere, the Metro cats stopped what they were doing and looked up. “The hours of folly are measured by the clock,” an unfamiliar but rather villainous-sounding British accent declared. “But of wisdom, no clock can measure.”
A loud bong rang out as the giant clock face nestled in one of the metro’s high walls above the plaza struck one o’ clock. Silhouetted against its glow were two people, one broad-shouldered with armor and a tall cylindrical helmet, and the other a tall, imperial feline holding a microphone. “Kitties and gentletoms, it seems we have some uninvited guests. Whatever will we do?” the same voice began.
“...Take them,” the other said, her voice low but commanding. “Reward is one million a head.”
“Meh-meh?” Tora piped up, taken aback. “They mean us? Who they talking to?”
A sinking feeling in her chest, Nadia looked around. Where moments ago the Metro had been full of cats, now there wasn’t so much as a whisker anywhere to be found. Everything had gone quiet, and the Seekers were alone. “Uh oh.” She stared up at the clock, her face a mixture of anger and fear. “I think those pricks just put a hit on us! What happened to this place bein' safe!?”
“Sounds like our li’l train ride just got a lot more complicated,” Band said. He, too, squinted up at the clock, trying to make out the strangers who’d just announced both their presence and malicious intent. Could that cat lady be ‘her’?
The man broke out into evil laughter. “Hmhmhmhm…hahahahahahaha! That’s right, fools. Quake in your boots, for Rush Hour is upon us!”
Suddenly the ground began to shake. The sound of countless footsteps pounding the ground echoed through the Metro. Then, from alleys, tunnels, doors, windows, manhole covers, and just about everywhere else the Seekers could imagine, there erupted a living tide of black fur, gleaming claws, and slitted eyes so awash in red that almost no yellow remained. The Metro cats arrived in staggering quantities, wearing white face masks across their snouts and wielding all manner of weapons as they moved in tight-packed crowds. It was a terrifying display–not least because the feral masses seemed to be converging on the Seekers’ position.
Nadia crouched down, pressurizing her blood for a high jump. “Hah, no way in hell I’m fightin’ that! I mean, even if I could, they’re just little guys! Do we really have to hurt ‘em?”
“They weak by selves, but there so many…!” Poppi marveled, her processor momentarily overloaded by her attempt to take count. Despite the massive threat the cats posed, she did not relish the idea of fighting them either. Even attacks with a small area of effect could claim dozens of lives at once. “Extreme caution advised! Friends should run!”
“Forget the pons!” Peach shouted, taking her umbrella in hand as the tsunami of cats bore down on the group. “We need to get to the stations and get the hell out of here, NOW!”
The Phantom Thieves didn’t need to be told twice. They turned into blurs and disappeared down a nearby alley, following the Gray Line signs. “See you on the other side,” Joker called, waving goodbye. “Good luck!” He then darted off after the others, barely making it before the cats swept in front of it and closed off that avenue of escape. Peach was right. It was time to go.
Individually, the cats are weak, but together, their crowds are more like flowing lava than a group of enemies. They’re now covering most of the ground and rooftops. Going/falling into the crowd, whether accidentally or in an attempt to fight, will only result in getting overwhelmed, taking constant heavy damage and being pinned, whether sooner or later. Hit-and-run is fine against small gangs that split off from the crowd to attack on their own or cut the heroes off, though said gangs might be led by an elite cat-themed enemy. Make it through Rush Hour and find a way into your designated station before the last trains leave!
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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