Lugubrious

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

Added Imogen's backstory and misc sections. May engineer them further but that's the rough idea and I've put in enough effort for today I think =P

Also I didn't really look at anyone else's sheets so if there's any overlap I apologize.

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

You know, @Lugubrious, while you're lurking the thread, mind telling me how you do this??? 5k posts and counting...



i gotta take notes fr fr

@stone

Well, I can take very little credit for it myself. I've been truly blessed to know some excellent, talented, and constant writers. For my part I merely put in the time to make big GM posts once a week or so and make sure things are always chugging along. Running a tight ship, I guess you could call it? But none of it would be possible without the players of course. I'm very proud of what we've achieved together.

On another note...

Bows in the wind

---

Name:

Imogen Reed

Arcana:

The Hanged Man

Birthday:

July 29th

Appearance:

Quietly composed, with a tasteful and cultivated smidgen of elegance. Her expression, while seldom happy or cheerful, suggests mere seriousness rather than haughtiness or ill temper. In fact, her big bright eyes make her solemn manner cute in the eyes of some. The combination of dressing for comfort in what are clearly still expensive clothes says enough about her in and of itself. Even in her student uniform, the presence of her signature beanie and scarf (as well as her headphones) give her that same dignified yet casual air. At 5’4” and on the slender side, she doesn’t stand out much otherwise

Reputation:

For the most part, people don’t think about Imogen. She is merely an element in the background, like a lampshade or doormat, nice enough but quite forgettable. People don't know much about her background, or care to know, and she doesn't care to inform them. That said, everyone does know she's Irish, and the bad blood between the Irish and English goes back a long way, subtly tinging her interactions. While not shy, she’s soft-spoken and taciturn enough to seldom get much attention, and though she’s happy enough to exchange pleasantries she has no problem with silence, either. The headphones she often wears give the impression that she doesn't want to be disturbed, although this isn't strictly true; instead of desiring silence she is dealing with the silence that is assumed. She never gets into trouble, always minds her own business, and dutifully does her part in group projects but rarely attends social events. The end result is someone that to most other students is little more than a warm body, an unassuming inoffensive occupant of space, and whether she’s there or not makes not a whit of difference.

Background:

Obedient, independent, self-sufficient, mature for her age–if these were not traits Imogen were born with, they were ones that her upbringing made more than second nature to her. The two happiest days in her father Cedric’s life were the day that he married Millicent Lancaster following an extended trip up from England to Ireland, and the day that their only daughter was born. Her dad knew that the woman he’d somehow married was too good for him, and so did she, but they were in love. He showed her how to love again; she shone a ray of radiant light into the murky hae of his life. It was like a storybook tale come true. Whether she came from a rich family or not, he -a poor, blue-collar Irish laborer- would do his damnedest to provide for his precious family.

Millie allowed him to. While he worked long hours to make ends meet, she idled her time away wherever she pleased, leaving young Imogen at home. She came from the fast life, after all; the simple pleasures after a hard day’s work that Cedric cherished, and that Imogen yearned for, would never satisfy her. Her needs for diversion, attention, and appreciation had to be met, and slowly, her husband ceased to satisfy. That wonderful spark of passion that galvanized them into a quick marriage was gone. With the passing interest known as a family now little more than a nuisance, it was no wonder that Millie ended up cheating on Cedric. What good was he for her, after all? Though stunned and hurt, Cedric forgave her, only to later learn that the affairs continued. When the infidelity finally reached the breaking point, he attempted to confront her, threatening to take his beloved daughter and leave. Instead Millie divorced him, crushed him in the legal proceedings, and took with her back to England the one thing he had to his name.

In England Imogen’s lonely life continued, all the lonelier for the absence of the only one who really cared about her. Millie provided for her, sending her to fine schools to try her hardest and succeed, but any show of tenderness inevitably rang hollow. Naturally awkward Imogen made few friends, spending most of her time either on schoolwork or online. She didn’t know how to talk with people her age or get them to like her, and felt like an outcast. For a while she did everything she could to try and make people give her the pity, sympathy, and kindness she believed she deserved. At the same time, she felt the urge to lash out, to bitterly dismiss and rebuke those who did as insincere, inadequate, or misguided. They should pity her, but she didn’t need their pity. Somehow, self-loathing and self-absorption walked hand in hand. As a result, those around her saw her as a selfish, manipulative drama queen, a weirdo, and a freak.

In the years of misery that followed, Imogen eventually had to change her tune. Starting after middle school, she calmed down. She buried her anger and the despair that caused it beneath a polite, considerate dignity. Imogen succeeded in completely changing her image, from her behavior to her appearance, seemingly becoming an upstanding young lady with an excellent academic record, a totally different and much more tolerable person. Though never popular or anything, she behaved long enough that all memories of that crazy, maladjusted problem child disappeared. All except Imogen’s, of course, To most, she just grew up, but in reality she worries that she never did, and had merely given up instead. She more or less accepted that it’s her lot in life to be a ‘ghost’ that matters to nothing and nobody, meaning that instead of others’ love and appreciation, she gets her new sense of self-worth from spite–the wholehearted commitment to spitting in life’s face by living a good one despite all its cruelty. She's still bitter about her loneliness and apathy, but she hides it and is too exhausted all the time from her studies to act out. It sometimes feels like something’s crawling inside her, a mania just waiting to break free.

Miscellaneous:

• Although outwardly calm, cool, mature, and collected, Imogen is something of a dork. ‘Terminally online’ might be a bit far, but she spends a lot more time watching streamers than hanging out with friends. The fact that she needs those glasses to see doesn’t help, either
• She doesn't like the quiet, or being alone with her thoughts, so when she isn't playing a game with a stream on in the background she's typically listening to loud music
• Her hobbies are surprisingly intense. It would probably be a surprise to anyone to learn that she owns and often uses a punching bag, or that she considers a day at a shooting range an absolute treat. She also likes horror, war movies, and so forth, perhaps desensitized by all that she's seen on the internet over the years
• There are bags under her eyes from staying up late staring at screens and textbooks for either stimulation or study
• She’s an avid coffee drinker and would probably suffer withdrawal symptoms if she stopped suddenly, but that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon
• Wherever there are students bragging to one another about how little they slept last night, Imogen can typically be found
• Owing to a childhood spent on fast food, frozen food, TV dinners, and a lack of motivation to cook for herself, Imogen's taste in food (and diet) are objectively terrible. She's immune to freezer-burn, ignores nutrition labels, doesn't care if things are burned a lot a little, and might very well eat something that fell on the ground if it looks fine. She'd probably be huge if not for her remarkably high metabolism
• To summarize, Imogen is an outwardly quiet, sweet, polite, very tired, slightly twitchy nerd, who may or may not be suppressing psychotic tendencies

---

Persona:

Odradek - something adrift and unanchored, obscure and aimless that is neither quite dead nor alive, neither object nor human, and bereft of either origin or purpose. It appears to be a simple piece of junk, being a quantity of scrap twine or rope wound around two metal spikes in the manner of a kite or perhaps the sail of a ship, with an eye nestled inside the knot at the very center. It tends to float above and just behind the user, its loose threads flapping gently in some ethereal wind. If held its flight is strong enough to glide with, but not to ascend. When it manifests, it does so like it’s rapidly knitting itself together

Moveset:

Odradek specializes in screwing with, breaking down, and picking apart enemies. With its baleful, disquieting gaze that brings all into question it can weaken foes’ presence of mind (attack and accuracy debuffs), or it can take initiative to restrain them with its thread, making them sitting ducks (speed and defense debuffs). While it possesses only mediocre physical attacks of its own with its metal crossbars, its strange threads allows it to turn enemy attacks against them (counters) or with a little luck and preparation, puppet them directly (brainwash). Its element is Nuclear, the wellspring of enigmatic, almost eldritch radiation that is anathema to living things

Weapon:

Imogen's weapon is an unusually volatile and violent one: a grenade on a string, or more specifically, a garrote. Whether a piano or guitar string, the garrote is tough and sharp, ideal for stealth takedowns. When time to go loud, however, it can be used to pull the pin on Imogen's grenade from a distance, setting off its very, very short fuse. The grenades inherit Odradek's element, acting like teensy-tiny nuclear explosion

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>
Lugu, my man, what's shaking. Been a minute.

@TGM

Hey there, how's it going. I can definitely say, I don't 'get out much' around the forum. Pretty much just running World of Light for years now.

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

Feel free to apply! Nobody is entitled to a spot, and if you want in, give it a shot!

@stone

That's encouraging! I might do so. Although, whenever I've tried applying to an RP with limited slots, and the GM picks the best from all the candidates to make the cut, I have a zero percent success rate of getting selected. But maybe it'll be my lucky day.

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

Goodness, this RP certainly looks like a rising star. I've had a Persona-shaped hole in my heart for a good while now. But it looks like even the pool of those who've already declared interest is a couple times bigger than the goal group size of 4-7, so it might not be time to take a fresh crack at a Hanged Man. Still, I'd be interested in keeping my eyes on this.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

Likewise! Here's hoping for good tidings for everyone.

World of Light

For the Binding of Isaac team, let's go ahead and for everyone's reference set a scale of what enemies are appearing and in what waves, with the ones dealt with by Ms Fortune already crossed out:

Wave 1 (start of fight): Ascended Brawler, Ascended Brawler, Ascended Witch, Rapturous Cultist
Wave 2 (first quarter): Ascended Brawler, Ascended Witch, Rapturous Cultist, Cultist Priest
Wave 3 (halfway point): Ascended Brawler, Ascended Brawler, Ascended Witch, Ascended Witch,
Wave 4 (three quarters): Rapturous Cultist, Cultist Priest, Templar Impaler

And to everyone not in the Discord server, as well as in general: Merry Christmas!

World of Light

Vs Mom

Level 10 Nadia (89/100)
Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Omori’s @Majoras End, Ganondorf’s @Double
Word Count: 1766

After the thunderous outcry shook the room, it took Nadia only a quick moment to recover from her terror, and as she scrambled back onto her feet her face was close to beet-red. She was flush with a potent cocktail and fury and embarrassment, directed almost as much toward herself as whatever nebulous, amorphous entity lurked just beyond this archaic chamber’s ghastly confines. What good was her plucky, happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care attitude if she kept letting herself get spooked by cheap scares like this, after all?

On the other hand, she knew it wasn’t worth fretting over. Before her eyes, tumors of twisted flesh oozed from the cracks in the floors and walls, swelling into malignant growths large enough to give birth to yet more odious monstrosities. Some tightly clutched weapons like staves or claws close to their chests, a feeble attempt either to preserve the facade or hold fast to some semblance of long-lost humanity, while others veiled themselves as best they could beneath tenebrous robes. At the feet of the warriors groveled unclothed thralls, their infested skin sloughing from their bones as they plaintively clasped their hands, gibbering in ecstatic delirium. The Cultists' skin stretched into humanoid shapes, with scraps of clothing and armor shuffling into their proper places, but Nadia knew what they were. Eldritch horrors or not, they were just more enemies to kill, and now they stood before her, bloated and squishy like so many overripe tomatoes ripe for the harvesting. The feral hardened her claws and gave voice to her rage, her instinctive hatred of these things that should not be. “You’re mincemeat!” she snarled, less a pun and more a promise.

Then Mom’s leg crashed down from above, forcing Nadia and all the other Seekers to scramble for their lives. A blood-propelled dash got her out of harm’s way, and in a flash Nadia wheeled around to take revenge on the loathsome limb. With her hands on the ground she used Fiber Upper to extend her segments upward with lethal force. Negating contact damage through that invincible reversal technique, she plunged her feet deep into the leg’s grotesque outer layer of sagging adipose tissue, then kicked her legs into gear to drill even deeper. A guttural grunt echoed through the room as the leg rapidly began to rise, and Nadia hurried to snap her legs back down in a spray of torn flesh.

Nadia hopped to her feet. With the Seekers spread out, the Cultists were converging on their targets, with the thralls pushing themselves along behind their ascended masters. Yet they seemed to move just a little slower than they ought to–or else Nadia herself had been made faster. It felt -and sounded- like Sectonia wanted this freakshow dealt with quickly. “Comin’ right up.” Nadia smirked, pulling out one anchor to twirl on its chain as she withdrew her new Bait Launcher from where she’d stuffed it in her hoodie’s inside pocket. “Meat your maker!” She took aim and fired at an incoming Brawler, and though the steak that slapped against his golden mask barely registered, the tiger that poofed into existence behind him was another matter. With a roar it reared up and swiped with its massive mitts, gouging out chunks of squirming, beady-eyed flesh from the Brawler’s exposed back.

”Hnnnngh.” Rumbling like an upset stomach, the Brawler turned to block the remainder of the big cat’s vicious onslaught. Nadia’s anchor then swept in, cutting into the fresh open wounds on the cultist’s back. His quivering muscles squealed, signaling for Nadia to double down, but as she reeled in her anchor to hurl it like a javelin, the thrall on support duty made his move. He placed the Brawler under guard and threw himself into the projectile’s path, allowing the anchor to lodge in his chest cavity with only a rattled groan of protest. Behind him, the Brawler pushed the tiger off, and it quickly disappeared. Before Nadia could do something, a growing shadow beneath her heralded the arrival of Mom’s leg, and the feral hastened to backdash out of danger.

Not in a great position to attack with her anchor pinned down, Nadia clicked her tongue and decided to use the leg as cover. She reloaded the Bait Launcher at record speed thanks to Sectonia’s speed boost, but as the massive leg in front of her retracted, she saw her opponent reach down and grab her anchor’s chain for a mighty, two-handed yank. “Wagh!” Nadia cried in surprise and dismay, her eyes wide as she flew through the air straight toward the monster’s outstretched hand. Acting on instinct, she released a blast of blood to change her flight path, but the Brawler’s limb metamorphosed, growing explosively into a distended tentacle to chase her down and snatch her from the air. “Mmmph!” she yowled, her face buried in pulsating eldritch meat. She carved into the mutated limb with reckless abandon as the Brawler reeled her in, sensing that she’d be able to cut loose a crucial second before being pulled into clawing range, but her enemy didn’t wait. Instead his other arm erupted too, growing a serrated tusk, and the next second it rammed straight through her midsection. For a brief moment she struggled, her screams muffled, before the brute ripped downward. Nadia’s top and bottom halves parted ways, the latter hurled behind the Brawler in a stream of blue blood. Her arms went limp, but by their handiwork the end of the cultist’s tentacle gave out the next moment, allowing the catgirl’s body to plop down on the ground.

As the battle raged on elsewhere in the room, the Brawler stood there for a moment so the thrall could heal him through grisly rite. He picked out his next target: that little boy would make for a fine appetizer. Neither he nor his attendant noticed the feral’s blood boiling up, taking on a familiar form, until the copycat buried her forearms like drills into his back. The thrall looked up just in time for an axe kick from Nadia’s lower half to smash his head into the ground. A frenzy of stomping ensued, and the Brawler turned to finish what he started, only to find his movements even slower than usual. A wincing Nadia was propping herself up on one arm just enough for her Night Light to bathe her repulsive enemy in its restrictive glow; with the other she leveled the Bait Launcher at him once more. “You’re crazy strong…” she muttered, grinning. “But I’m not half bad myself!”

With a squeeze of the trigger, another projectile steak brought about the tiger’s return. While it laid waste to the cultist’s back, Nadia put her halves together again. Once the Brawler fell to his knees she moved in with a flip kick into Curtain Shredder, finishing it off. Keeping an eye out for Mom, Nadia took a quick breather. “Ugh.” While the new separation point in her gut alleviated her impalement and subsequent bifurcation a whole lot, it still hurt, and after its brush with the Brawler’s despicable flesh she didn’t want the blood she put into her copycat back. She suddenly facepalmed. “Damn it, I could’ve just used the tongue monster instead.” Around the room, Mom’s protuberances suddenly arose again, sending forth a fresh wave of cultists. Nadia sighed, her eyes settling on the spirit of the rapturous cultist thrall with Strikers on her mind. “You were healin’ that thing, weren’t ya? Nearly undid all the work I put in. Well, unless ya wanna get squashed, you’re gonna heal me now. Got it?”

The spiritbond completed, but before Nadia could so much as gather up her anchor, an ascended Witch looked her way. Flesh snaked across the caster’s arm and scepter as she wove Fate’s Pull, opening a rift next to the feral. A tentacle burst from the shadowy pit and grabbed Nadia, then tossed her straight toward the new quartet of enemies. Something about that attack crawled painfully through the wrinkles of Nadia’s mind as she tumbled along the ground, forcing her to clutch her head as she staggered to her feet. A Brawler leaped at her with an overhead slam, but she pulled off a Fiber Upper in time to turn the tables. Her copycat ran after the Brawler as he sailed away, leaving her with just two enemies on hand. Still, she was too close, especially to that fearsome Priest whose flesh visibly writhed beneath its soot-covered robe.

Nadia backdashed and assumed a defensive stance with her anchors, her Night Light turned outward to intercept anything that got close, then flung one anchor at the Witch. She deftly dodged out of the way, and the Priest began to move. Desperate, Nadia aimed a wide-ranging swipe at the two of them with her other anchor, and while it clipped the Witch it flat-out stopped when it reached the Priest. To the thief’s horror a pink tentacle emerged from its sleeve to wrap around the anchor, holding it in place. At the same time, the Witch grabbed hold of the other anchor. All of a sudden, Nadia found herself caught, stretched between her own weapons. A crumbling sound bade her look upward, and sure enough, Mom wasn’t about to let this sitting duck lie. The giant red heel plummeted toward her. “Grrrrrah!” Nadia could neither tug free nor dodge as long as the monsters had her bound, so she did the only thing she could: the limbo. That let the Night Light slow the leg down just enough for her to take drastic action. The next second, the leg smashed down.

As the dust cleared and the leg withdrew, the cultists searched for a blue stain on the floor, but instead they found Nadia. She crouched against the wall where she’d rolled, being healed by her new Striker. Confused, they peered at the anchors in their grasp. The chains were slack, and from the drum on Nadia’s waist dangled two severed metal links. “Screw it. Long-range just ain’t my style.” she spat, her breath ragged. She stood to her feet and fired the Bait Launcher, freshly reloaded. She put the gun away as a steak plopped down between the Witch and the Priest, then sharpened her claws. “Time to earn your stripes!” In a flash the tiger appeared to wreak havoc once again. With a smile Nadia dropped to all fours, wiggled her tail, and launched toward the action like a cat out of hell.

World of Light

Suoh

Sector 3 Upper
Level 2 Goldlewis (18/20)
Goldlewis, Peach, Raz’s @Truthhurts22, Roxas’ @Double, Bede’s @Crimson Flame, Sakura and Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Midna’s @DracoLunaris
Word Count: 3268

With Peach in trouble Goldlewis hustled over as fast as he could, covering multiple sidewalk tiles at a time with his huge strides, but both of his new Psych-OSF allies were speedier. They sprinted ahead of him fast enough for their cloaks to flap in the wind, with Kagero in particular hurtling along in an odd run, arms crossed as he leaned into it. Then something strange happened; one moment they were there, cruising along the street ahead of Goldlewis, and then with a shimmer they disappeared. Invisibility? the veteran wondered, making the connection for the first time. He knew that every Psych-OSF member wielded a special psychic power, but something like this went beyond any ability he might have expected.

This wasn’t the time to think about that, though. Up ahead, Peach had gotten grabbed by one of the Buddy Rummies, and while she repeatedly dented its mannequin-like body with her parasol in an attempt to free herself, another succeeded in ripping off the car door. The man trapped inside, as flattened against the opposite door as he could make himself, gave a yelp, but the next moment the Other slammed down into the pavement with violent abruptness. Kagero flashed back into visibility, having broken his stealth with his killer backstab, and when the Other’s bulb popped out he unceremoniously put his foot through it. A split second later the report of Tsugumi’s revolver heralded her own appearance as the bullet blew off another Rummy’s leg. It immediately ate dirt, becoming a sitting duck for Tsugumi to finish off with another well-placed round. An Other staggered her way with surprising speed, its severed arm held up to bludgeon the girl on the head, but she threw herself backward with a couple parting shots to stop it in its tracks. Right on cue came a thrown knife from Kagero, followed by a lunge so fast he might have just as well been a blur. After the punch he seized his embedded knife and wrenched it sideways finishing off the monster for good.

At that point Goldlewis chimed in with a flurry of minigun fire, nailing a Buddy Rummy that had been sidling along the crashed car toward the missing door. Glass shattered and sparks flew as Skyfish perforated the creature, and when the barrage ended it toppled forward. At that point his gaze went to Peach, who’d just pushed her parasol through her attacker’s abdomen, skewering it straight through. Yet still it stubbornly clung to her, and with an irate growl the princess reached into the tangle on its chest to violently extract its spirit. The Other went limp, allowing Peach to push it away with a kick, then shatter its spirit for the kill. A small bottle of sweet, orange-flavored medicinal jelly appeared in her hand, and with the other she reached down to grab her scatterboom where it had fallen during the struggle. She leveled the explosive shotgun at the fallen Other as it tried to rise and fired point-blank. In a thunderous blast the Rummy was eradicated, and the day was saved.

“Thank you, thank you all!” The man climbed from inside the car, his face glistening with sweat. “Someone’s damn dog was running after ‘em toward the shelter, and I swerved to avoid it.” He looked down the street to where Naomi and Kasane were fighting in front of a shelter. Most of the small fry had already been eliminated, thanks in part to the arrival of the girls’ squadmates. A tall boy in a straw hat who fought with psychokinesis-controlled yoyos, a less tall but no less skinny blue girl who used her hydrokinesis to control and direct two electrified bird drones with bladed wings, and a short pink-haired girl who got up-close and person with gloves and cryokinesis. Together they’d already managed to shatter the armor of the Wither Sabbat, and after just a couple more seconds of concentrated damage it slumped down, allowing Kasana to lift and shatter it with a Brain Crush. “The OSF sure is amazing,” he murmured. “I’ll head for the shelter. Good luck out there!”

It looked like humanity’s defenders would not need luck, however. It had been only a couple minutes since the Otherfall began, but already the scattered Psych-OSF soldiers had rallied to Suoh’s defense. The rank-and-file soldiers, whose duties ended at long-range bombardment and point defense, pulled back so that the Scarlet Guardians could take center stage. They moved and fought in groups, supporting one another with effective teamwork and use of SAS. No matter where Goldlewis looked, the situation was the same; it seemed like the quick response of PSYCH-OSF had the situation well in hand. Most amazing of all to Goldlewis, the soldiers accomplished all this in remarkable silence, only calling out or making effort noises in the heat of the moment. Practically any combat operation on any battlefield that came to mind involved a frenzied back-and-forth of constant and often conflicting communication. “How’re they so doggone coordinated without any chatter?” he wondered aloud.

“Hm? Oh, that’d be thanks to Brain Talk,” Kagero told him, his easygoing manner restored now that the fighting had stopped. “It’s so second-nature to us, I forget people don’t know about it sometimes. We can speak directly into the heads of our squadmates over a good distance.” He glanced at Tsugumi, as if listening, then raised an eyebrow. “Oooor, if we don’t feel like talking in front of strangers~”

The girl panicked. “H-hey! W-why would you…?”

Kagero winced, his hands held up. “Sorry, Tsugumi, I couldn’t help teasing you. You know it’s bad manners, though!”

“Right. Sorry…” Closing her eyes, Tsugumi bowed her head slightly at Goldlewis and Peach.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetie!” Peach smiled, trying to be friendly. “There’s a first time for everyone, right?”

As Kagero burst out in a fit of chuckles, Tsugumi turned her furrowed brows on the princess. “I’m older than you, you know…”

As Peach stood flabbergasted by that, Kagero got a handle on himself. “Whew, I’m sorry, that kinda thing just gets me every time. You must be new in town, ‘cause the first thing anyone learns about the OSF is that nobody looks their age.” He brushed back his hair with his hand, then crossed his arms. “The psychic hormone dries up with age, right? So they got us on growth suppression to keep us fighting fit. Of course, I’m an adult since I’m a late bloomer, but I’d bet you’d be surprised by how old some of us really are.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a mischievous smile as he gave Tsugumi the side-eye. “Aw, relax, Tsugumi, I swore I’d never tell~”

Goldlewis cleared his throat. “Ahem! Pullin’ us back to one just happened for a minute. I’ve been fightin’ longer’n most folks been alive, but that’s the first time I got up-close and personal with an Other. That electrifyin’ combo hurt somethin’ fierce.” His electrical burns still smoldered painfully as a reminder of the Others’ killer coordination. “Do they show up often ‘round here?”

“Not that often,” Kagero confessed, shrugging offhandedly. “It’s like the weather, no real rhyme or reason to it or anything. It’s just about the worst place they could land in fact, for them at least. Between HQ just up the street there and all the off-duty soldiers who live here, they’re basically throwing themselves into the lion’s den.” By this time Tsugumi had made her way over to him, more or less hiding behind him, but Kagero stepped to the side to give her a pat on the head. “We were just out on a stroll, in fact. Going to visit Aquarius to see some new flowers, right Tsugumi?”

The girl looked up at him, her brow still furrowed in that funny way. “...The scarlet dendrobiums, yes. Brought all the way from Wetland Aspect, where they supposedly sprang from the blood of fallen warriors…I can hardly wait to see them!” When it came to talking about plants, her painfully soft voice took on new vigor.

“Hmm.” Goldlewis realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to relate to these psionic warriors, desensitized as they were to a reality with Others in it. If he wanted a heaping platter of exposition, he would need to bark up a different tree. “I’ll let y’all get on with it, then,” he told the pair after a moment. “Thanks again for all your help.”

Kagero smiled cheerfully. “Think nothing of it! Like I said, an honor.” He stopped suddenly, looking up at a building across the street, and so did Tsugumi. “Looks like TV’s back online,” he announced for the sake of the duds. “Goodness, and sensationalizing Psych-OSF fighting for their lives against the Others for cheap spectacle, too? I’m utterly shocked.” The man neither sounded nor looked particularly shocked, however. “Ohh, you’re missing this. Even the Septentrions got in on the fun. We’ve got a flashy little highlight reel of Major General Karen Travers playing right now.”

While Goldlewis could only rely on Kagero’s description, Raz and other sensitives in the area could watch and experience the broadcast themselves firsthand. It showed a replay of a street on the other side of the Otherlobe, where the activation of a transport power created a cube-shaped field of orange light. From it stepped a handful of unknown figures all decked out in black, red, and gray. Two were a burly boxer, and a blonde woman with a staff over her shoulder who seemed to match. Then there was lady with enormous hair in a gigantic, fluffy, pink-hued ponytail, as well as long lashes on her closed eyes, who floated in the air, curled up as if asleep with her own hair as a pillow. Along with her came an elegant woman with big curls of indigo hair, yellow sclera, folded white cat ears, and two fluffy curled cat tails beneath the cosmic cloak behind her. There were others further back, but it was the two that stood in front who got most of the attention: a beautiful man with flowing light blue hair, capelet, and tie, and then a hard-faced commander with gray locks, pointed silver boots, a silver mask with only one eye visible, and a long trench coat with a white fur trim. Once they walked out of the light with dramatic slowness, the Scarlet Guardians seemed to pose together, with the frontrunner crossing his arms as he glared out at a street littered by Others. “Septentrion Karen Travers and Fubuki Spring!” the newscaster hailed. “

“Karen Regiment, Fubuki Regiment, Plan A. Move out!” Karen growled, and the Scarlet Guardians got to work.

After directing nearby civilians to make a run for the shelter, the Septentions join in as well. Fubuki fought with powerful cryokinesis and a royal blue greatsword, his movements as fluid as a dance, while Karen moved with superspeed and teleportation to unleash blasts of lightning, water, wind, and flame. Buddy Rummies, Vase Paws, and other monsters fell like chaff before them. “The Other was defeated with one blow!” the announcer declared. “Septentrion First Class ‘Brain Eater’ Major General Karen Travers is amazing!” The TV quickly cut between several high-action clips throughout the course of the Other massacre.

“Y’know, despite his gruff exterior, I bet Karen likes showing off as much as anyone,” Kagero smirked. “Why else would he keep switching powers?”

Tsugumi narrowed her eyes. “That nickname…considering what the Others do, it always seems so insensitive…”

As Goldlewis listened to them, an orange square like the one on TV blossomed into being not far away, grabbing the veteran’s attention. Having no idea what it signified, he bristled at the possible appearance of a new enemy, but instead the only thing that the transport field brought was a girl with a rabbit-eared headset. She looked annoyed, with her hands on her hips, and when she spoke her voice had the flatness of a thirty-year-old retail worker. “So it was you making all that trouble.”

Not a moment later, a swarm of black quadrotor drones equipped with cameras descended on the area. Kagero quietly disappeared, and thanks to SAS Tsugumi vanished without a trace as well. That left just the Seekers of Light stuck in a half-dozen impromptu spotlights. “These people have eradicated the Others!” a commentator announced through one of the drones. “In fact, you saved Ryujin Ward in that amazing victory over the Others! A stunning show of power and spirit by Goldlewis Dickinson, the Secretary of Absolute Defense, and some interesting new friends!”

For the second time Goldlewis groaned under the limelight of the paparazzi. “What is this, some kinda victory interview?”

“It is!” the drone replied. “How do you feel? What motivated you to take action on behalf of Suoh’s citizens, despite the potential entanglements? Could it be that you don’t believe Psych-OSF is doing its job? Can you comment on the state of Suoh’s affairs? Who’re your new associates? Have you chosen a new affiliation for the upcoming-?”

“All righty, all righty, that’s enough filming for the day!” In a pink flash, the girl from before used Hypervelocity to blitz through the crowd, gathering the attention of all the drones at once.

The drones did not object to the change of focus. “Oh, if it isn’t Arashi Spring! Just who are these people?”

Goldlewis took a step back, not sure what to make of all this. He turned toward the other Seekers, but instead found himself suddenly alone. “Huh? Where in tarnation’d everyone go?” He then felt a small but forceful tug on his arm. The veteran looked down to see a small boy with a green bowl cut. Then both teleported together.

They warped into an alley a block away. Goldlewis started, taken completely by surprise, but he saw Raz, Roxas, Peach, Pit, and Bede already here. So was the unknown boy. “We should be able to talk here,” he remarked, his voice gentle.

“What in sam hill is goin’ on?” Goldlewis questioned him.

The boy did not flinch despite being a fraction of the giant’s size. “I’m Luka Travers,” he stated. “I thought I’d get you away from the press so that you could breathe easy. This must all seem very sudden and unusual to outsiders, but I hope I can ask for your patience and understanding as you come to grips with the situation.”

“I…ah, well.” Goldlewis composed himself with the help of his comb, fixing both his hair and mental state. He remembered what Kagero said about appearances being non-indicative of age among Psych-OSF soldiers, which explained this young man’s own composure. “I reckon I oughta thank you then. Those reporters seem mighty hungry for a story.”

Luka nodded. “Indeed. Your presence alone tends to raise questions, Mr. Dickinson. There are many who’d be curious to know what you’re doing in Suoh, I’m sure. But for my part, I am only grateful that you and your friends went out of your way to help people. So, thank you as well.”

“It’s what heroes do,” Peach piped up, remembering the mission statement to spread and make great the Seekers’ name. Something else occurred to her, though. “Luka Travers, you said? Does that mean you’re related to one of the famous Septentions?”

Luka smiled, his face slightly bashful. “It’s embarrassing when you put it that way, but yes. Karen is my older brother.” He then returned to a neutral expression. “Despite my gratitude, it is still my duty to inform you that civilians are not allowed to fight Others.”

“Oh. Er…” Peach got her gears turning, trying to think of a way to save face. Her team’s efforts to curtail the Ever Crisis could hardly come to an end here, after all.”

Goldlewis crossed his arms. “Isn’t Psych-OSF responsible for allowing Others to enter the local airspace and putting civilians in danger?”

“Huh? Mr. Goldlewis!” Eyes wide, Peach held up her hands. Was he trying to sabotage the Seekers’ relations!?

Luka, however, seemed deadly serious. “Those are harsh words, Mr. Dickinson, but you’re right.” He gave a quick, light sigh, but offered no further comment on the matter. “I’m sure you have something to say on the matter, but this is neither the right time nor the right place, and I am not the right person.”

With a noncommittal grunt, Goldlewis turned his attention from the alley to a gurney being pushed by OSF paramedics through the street. To the sensitives present, the body lying on it would have a psionic censor overlaying his head, hiding it from view. Luka quickly interjected. “Oh, you shouldn’t look there. There’s no censor for duds. That soldier is very badly wounded from the battle. An Other tried to eat his brain. Two of the OSF troopers on guard duty with him were killed.” Unable to see what became of the catatonic guardsman’s face, he watched the gurney roll toward a nearby ambulance. “Looking at eaten bodies can have negative lasting effects on your mental health.” Luka turned his gaze to the sky. “I won’t ask what your intentions are here, but please just go on with your day, and try to keep away from the press. Alright? If you run into any more Other trouble, please feel free to contact me via Psynet. My serial number is KTN545301. Be careful out there.” In another blue flash, Luka disappeared.

A moment later, Peach got a call on her walky-talky. It was from Sakura, reporting that she, Midna, and Karin made it through, though not without their own difficulties. The princess held down the transmission button. “Hello? This is Peach. Reading you loud and clear, I think. Goldlewis and I fought some Others. Got a little help from local soldiers too, and learned a little about them. We might have an ‘in’ with a Septentrion. The Septentrion, maybe. As for where…” She jogged out into the street, looking for landmarks. “We’re by a place called Anistar Gym. It’s got a big purple roof. I can still see the Otherlobe, so we’re probably pretty close to Main Street still.” She turned to rejoin the others and discuss what to do, then remembered Sakura’s radio protocol. “Uh, over.”

Goldlewis beat her to the punch. “Well, we got our fill of Others, I expect. Now we got a couple hours to kill before we oughta head back.” He looked between the gathered Seekers, which aside from Peach were all teenage boys. Not a lot of authority or leadership among them, but psychic matters were Raz’s specialty, so maybe he had something to say. It looked like there wasn’t a camera cluster right here, so Goldlewis went ahead and continued. “Don’t suppose any o’ y’all turned up some leads? I got the feelin’ that the brother of a Septentrion’s someone important, and if everythin’s monitored we don’t wanna give ourselves away so soon, so I’d rather not ring up li’l Luka ‘cept as a last resort.”

Bede hardly needed the invitation to talk. “I’m pretty sure that this building we’re next to is from my world. Anistar is a famous city in a region near mine. So I don’t know about you all, but I’m going there. Do what you want.” He proceeded to set the example by walking out of the alley and into the neighboring gym. Goldlewis watched him go, then gave a resigned shrug and turned toward the others. He shared what little he learned about -and from- Kagero and Tsugumi, but it would be up to Raz to tell the others what he saw in the psychic broadcast.

Results!

Party: Goldlewis, Midna, Sakura, Karin, Roxas, Pit
Encounter Reward: 12 EXP

Detroit

Sector 8 Lower
Level 11 Tora (110/110) Level 11 Poppi (110/110)
Susie and Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Raiden’s @XoXKieroBombXoX, Geralt’s @Multi_Media_Man, Benedict’s @Dark Cloud
Word Count: 2119

As the machines stood together at the back of the bus, slowly actuating to keep balance as the vehicle rocked beneath them, Poppi did not take long to mull over Blazermate’s question. She found its premise fundamentally flawed. “I guess it must be pretty different. I’m an artificial Blade, not an android,” she pointed out. “They don’t exist in the world we’re from, so I’ve never encountered hate of any kind. Is there really such a thing?” For the life of her, Poppi couldn’t offer any guess as to why.

As a few moments passed in silence, however, she began to connect the dots. She thought about the people protesting androids back at the plaza, full of vitriol and resentment. Hating the Machines that waged their interminable war against this city and its people she would totally understand, but she took it to mean that they objected to the robots inside Midgar itself, which were made, bought, and sold for the sole purpose of serving the needs of the citizenry. Were they dangerous or unreliable in some way? If forced to hazard a guess, she would’ve thought that such contraptions would be popular if not outright beloved, since if they were anything like Poppi, they possessed incredible utility at only a fraction of the resource demand, which in turn offered countless benefits from convenience to labor. Robots could do all sorts of dangerous or undesirable jobs that humans couldn’t or wouldn’t want to, but of course they could do most things humans could, and without having to be paid.

Hmm. Maybe that was it. Perhaps androids were simply too good at doing the jobs of people, and that employers preferred using them over hiring actual human beings. If machines here lacked free will, that only incentivized the possible beneficiaries further. That could very well cut off ways for people to earn a living, leaving them angry. So then, it was a form of envy? How strange, Poppi thought. She’d spent her whole existence envious of humans, especially drivers and their blades. While happy with her lot, she knew as well as her Masterpon that they were just what she told Blazermate a moment ago: artificial. He wasn’t a real driver, since she wasn’t a real blade. If only they could have what others have, she often thought. And now she’d stumbled upon a part of the world where people lived in envy of machines–of artificial beings created to make lives easier, but in the end made things harder, too. “How…” Poppi murmured. “Strange.”

At several points during the somewhat circuitous trip back to the train station the bus stopped to exchange passengers with the outside world. People quietly got up or seated themselves, while robots marched to or fro along the vehicle’s length. Whenever a particularly bulking machine needed to embark or disembark, the driver -himself an android- pulled a second lever to open the rear door, which also provided wheelchair access. It took a while when that happened, so Tora had plenty of time to watch the city through the bus window. The further he traveled, the more he came to think that this place called Detroit was just sort of sad. It put on the mask of a technological metropolis like some of the plates up above, but to anyone who didn’t turn a blind eye, the cracks in the facade were plain to see. It was dirty, dense, cramped, and alternatively murky or so dazzling with its bright displays that headaches came quite easily. Danger lurked around every other corner, and people were suffering. With no alternatives, the jobless and destitute could only turn to crime or to DespoRHado, where by enlisting they could pit their lives -and perhaps their very humanity- on the line to make ends meet. It was a far cry from what Tora imagined.

The bus came to a stop again, hissing as the pneumatic doors opened. A lone figure climbed aboard, and when he spotted the stranger Tora shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This strange man wore a dark trench coat over his suit and tie, but his resemblance to the G-men went no further than that. Instead of a hat he sported a helmet of warped metal, so tight that it loomed more like head than headgear, and like the armor on his left arm a serum-filled canister protruded from it. As Tora looked on, the stranger strode slowly down the aisle, his hands behind his beck. The Nopon wished nothing more than for the man to keep on walking, but of course he stopped. He looked down at Tora, and though the young engineer could see no eyes, he could feel the weight of the stranger’s gaze. That tense moment felt like an hour; what did this person want? Was he an enemy? Had a hireling of the Consuls found them out again? But a couple seconds later, the stranger chuckled. “Aw,” he groaned, his voice gravelly, strained, and slightly resonant. He brought out his left hand, a massive and deadly-looking set of metal talons, and ever-so-gently patted Tora on the head. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Then the Claw moved on, sitting a couple rows back. Tora swallowed and let out his breath. Poppi quietly put her Variable Saber away.

A little later, they reached their destination. By that time the Claw had already left; Tora hadn’t looked at him when he went, and scarcely dared to breathe. The four got off and settled down on the steps leading up to the train station to wait, since it looked like they beat Giovanna and the other team here. Tora and Poppi chatted, mostly just reminiscing about Alrest while they stared out longingly over Quarantine Valley. Just shy of ten minutes later, the other team arrived in dramatic fashion, zipping around the sky-lines that Giovanna pointed out when they first arrived. The secret agent, the witcher, the strategist, and the cyborg were all in one piece, although Raiden looked a little…well, lamer. Tora frowned at him disapprovingly, but Poppi nudged her Masterpon before he could speak his mind.

After distributing the sky-hooks the Seekers’ options opened up, so Giovanna considered what their next move should be. “Kay then, the Hermits. We’d find them for sure if we rooted around in Quarantine Valley, but we can’t afford to bumble around a corrupted zone. Any corruption you get, no matter how small, is permanent. And if you pass the threshold…” Giovanna trailed off, letting the threat hang. Compared to the results of redshift, radiation almost looked preferable. “Hate to add more to our shopping cart, but if we’re headed down there, we’re gonna need instruments that can track corruption levels. No telling where we’d find something like that though, so let’s just keep an eye out.” She crossed her legs as she leaned against the railing. “So, where do we go? If we keep hunting down gangs, we’ll probably bite off way more than we can chew before we find the right one. I guess I’m up for it if you guys are, but that’s asking for one hell of a lucky streak. If only we had some kind of guide.”

At this point Tora wished he could speak up with just the ticket thanks to some pertinent tidbit he’d picked up during his own travels, but right now the Nopon could only offer more questions instead of answers. Being unhelpful had never stopped him before, however. “We find out thing of interest during dig in scrapyard. Manufacturer design androids so that spirit housed in self-contained chip deep inside machine. As long as black box intact, androids not turn to ash, even if body inoperable in shambles. Tora want visit Cyberlife headquarters.”

“Cyberlife?” Giovanna squinted. “You mean, in the City of Glass? Not only is that crazy far away from here, but getting in would be just about impossible. The private security they have over there is nuts, I’m sure they’d see through your IDs in a heartbeat.” Tora shrugged as if to say he’d already done many things others might deem impossible, but for now he rested his case. Giovanna looked at the rest. “I guess we could always ride the sky-lines until we see something interesting.”

The nearest apartment complex brought them back up to the sky-line, allowing the team to hitch a ride away from the gawking eyes of the public, as well as any G-men that might be prowling among them. In just a few minutes Giovanna and her crew were hurtling along the sky-lines once more, joined this time by Poppi (carrying Tora), Blazermate, and Susie as well. Together they made for quite the procession, but beyond a quick glance upward most of the populace seemed pretty desensitized. Only about a minute passed before the convoy passed over the scene of what might have been a large-scale street fight, but it looked like some sort of gas had been let loose, and dark figures darted around through the smoke and shadows. Some of them looked G-man-shaped, too, so Giovanna kept right on going. A really curly, loopy bit ensued where everyone needed to tuck their limbs in and hang on for dear life while going around all the tight corners, so nothing much could be gleaned from that area. Further still and the Seekers were beginning to approach a block of factories on Detroit’s left side, closer to where it bordered the sprawl of slums, shanty towns, and junkyards that composed the undercity of Sector 7. This industrial zone seemed to embrace the sky-lines more than the commercial or residential ones, maybe for the sake of its blue-collar workers, so Giovanna made the most of the wealth of choices to lead the team on an upward rail headed higher into the air.

It dropped them off on a lofty factory roof that overlooked the surrounding area to a decent extent, as well as providing sky-lines downward. Around this facility lay an airplane factory, a chemical plant, and a construction yard, all pretty busy considering the time of day except for the construction site, . Weary workers were gearing up to make the final push through the last couple of hours before heading home for the day. Of course, the androids among them needed no such second wind, instead keeping their noses to the grindstones while their human coworkers refreshed with a smuggled beer or two. They realized that they weren’t alone up here, with a couple hoodlums huddled over in a corner with a six-pack of beer, but they kept to themselves so the team took a moment to catch their own breath. Benedict needed it in particular; back at the brewery he’d been obliged to go the long way around the compound, leaving the older man rather winded. Not everyone could boast Geralt’s stamina, after all.

Most everyone kept an eye out, but Poppi dedicated herself to lookout duty wholeheartedly. She flew up to the highest vantage point available and trained her optics to scan the industrial zone below, searching for anything out of the ordinary. After a few minutes, her impromptu stakeout bore fruit. “I see something!” she said suddenly. “Down by where they’re building. There’s a group of shady figures in weird clothes, carrying stuff.” When Tora waddled over to the edge of the rooftop to look, he could see them too. Whether stick wielders, roller bladers, gunslingers, or shotgunners, they clearly didn’t fit in, and as they stormed the place the few human workers quietly turned tail and fled. The androids they left behind got mercilessly slaughtered by the newcomers, their blue blood spilled all over the construction site. Then the Misconducts got busy planting sticks of dynamite under the direction of one huge, armored hockey player, TNT Randy.

“Wow, they really are everywhere,” Giovanna remarked, nonplussed. “There’s a lot of them, and it’s a wide open area.” She scratched under Rei’s chin. “Guess we’ve got our work cut out for us.” She attached her hook to a sky-line and began her high-speed descent. Tora and Poppi were only a second behind.

Necropolis

Level 10 Nadia (86/100)
Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Omori’s @Majoras End, Ganondorf’s @Double
Word Count: 1004

Though the Seekers’ campaign through the shadowy, sepulchral fathoms of the Necropolis turned out to be a painstaking slog through all manner of monstrosities, each more troublesome than the last, when all was said and done the team stood reunited in the ghostly green light of Tartarus with everyone intact. Some could even boast of brand-new powers or weapons that didn’t seem to align with the vile dungeon’s typical, rather mutative rewards, probably a consequence of the new, markedly different rooms that the heroes overcame on the way. Those strange and out-of-place chambers suggested that the deeper this place went, the more variable it became, incorporating little segments from all sorts of worlds each with their own foes and logic. It was hard to imagine things getting less complicated from here on in.

Nadia certainly wasn’t complaining, though; after Therion elected not to ‘steak’ a claim on the Bait Launcher, she seemed to be on cloud nine. With some solid loot in hand at last, she didn’t even look twice at the rotten tomato in the item room that Sectonia uncovered. On the way to catch up with the others, the two thieves met up with the Knights, on its way back from a branching path to the east from an smoky-smelling brick room with bridges over shallow water. Nadia jogged over to take a peek down that route and found two rooms with little more than rocks, skulls, and ash. Yet again the little bug, clad in its fresh new PJs, had proved itself to be a fighter that nobody should underestimate. It went ahead and crushed all the spirits it found too, silently stockpiling all the money, health, and keys while leaving things like spider parts and bone shards behind. At the furthest extent of that path, the Feral spotted a shop, which the Knight evidently opened using a key of its own. Inside, a petrified keeper hung by the neck over its morbid selection of wares, including a bundle of rotten tissue for ten coins, a pill, and an empty spot where something that the Knight evidently purchased once lay. Neither of the leftovers even remotely tickled Nadia’s fancy, so she hurried on her way.

At the ominous boss door, during the team’s deliberation on which subgroup would tackle the boss of this floor, Jesse posed an idea. Even if everyone was okay for the most part, this place had already taken a toll in terms of stamina and mental health, so rather than send in just a couple intrepid souls to challenge what would probably be the toughest opponent yet, why not have everyone go in at once? To this end she used her handy-dandy Tool Gun to no-collide the boss door, making it effectively intangible. No matter who went inside first, everyone else could follow at their convenience. “Hell yeah!” Nadia agreed as she did some quick stretches. “This is probably the last one, right? Rule of three and all that? So let’s just beat the snot out of it and blow this joint!”

Once everyone loosened and psyched themselves up, it was go time. In the spirit of not breaking tradition, Nadia plunged through the breach, leading the way for the rest of the Seekers to follow. And though she plastered a brave smile on her face as she came to a stop a few yards beyond the doorway, putting up her dukes against whatever new horrors loomed before her, she could not deny the chill that ran down her spine, nor the hairs on the back of her neck that stood on end. Something felt wrong–instinctively, gutturally, very, very wrong.

At first glance it simply appeared to be a huge, circular chamber, with a vaulted ceiling shrouded by cobwebs and darkness. It lay in a state of pitiable ruin, and everywhere Nadia looked she could see massive cracks. But that damnable sound was what made every fiber of her being scream in protest. It was squishy, sloshy, wet, incredibly deep, and everywhere. Her wide-eyed search of the room quickly made apparent that the floor, ceiling, and very walls of this place were all subtly, slightly moving. Pulsations here and there caused small upheavals in the stone that settled back down a moment later. It was as if this chamber’s masonry were but a facade, built crudely and in vain to imprison something. Something alive. It left Nadia wound up tight from the tension, and before could figure out more, a sudden bellow reverberated through the room, scaring her so badly that she launched backward like a spring.

”ISAAC!”

As if in reply, the room rumbled, and parts of the floor began to erupt. The ghostly chandeliers quickly fell and smashed into the ground. Slabs of distended flesh welled up from the cracks, some shaped like hands, others with giant eyeballs, and others just bulbous mounds. As Nadia watched, horrified, the hands opened up, the eyes hatched like eggs, and the blubber tore apart to reveal four new enemies. They seemed to be cultists of some sort, long since overtaken by malignant meat, their bodies stretched and distorted in hideous ways. Most foes spawned in this way would just be cultists, but throughout the fight Brawlers, Casters, Priests, and worst of all a single Impaler would bubble up to meet them. After the first wave spawned, a section of the ceiling broke apart, and from the unseen flesh a gigantic leg descended, its many tons of flabby, pendulous cellulite behind a gargantuan red high heel shoe to stomp the ground in front of the door with staggering force. The hideous, distorted voice of a woman rippled through the room. ”Muhuhahaha!”

The Colorless Wood

Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Primrose’s @Yankee, Rubick’s @Scarifar

Go time at last! With the Hive Knight and his inspirational bravado leading the way, Bowser ordered the charge, and his cohort were happy to join in the fray with whatever weapons and magic they could bring to bear. Silitha shrieked out her defiance and stomped forward to meet her challengers head-on, but Bowser pummeled her with cannon fire, going for her wounded head. His barrage broke the Brood Mother’s focus and forced her to raise her forelegs for protection, but her makeshift guard in front didn’t prepare her for a giant, sorcerous left hook from the side. She gasped as she reeled to the side, her remaining eyes bulging out as the impact drove a loathsome wad of spit at teeth flew from her ghastly jaws.

Rallying herself as best she could, Silitha prepared to lash out at her incoming attackers, but two of them reached her first. Barnabee warped above her with another surprise slash to the back of her neck, her own back being the one place she none of her myriad limbs could reach. “En guard!” he cried as his chainsaw blade struck true, shearing through the carapace. The Hive Knight then brought his sword around into a reverse grip, plunged it into the wound, and with spirit abuzz he ran forward. “Huzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-!” he cried, driving the embedded chainsaw along until he carved out through the top of Silitha’s head in a spray of brownish gunk. “-Zah!”

At the same time, Ravaging Confession brought Primrose behind the giant spider, out of sight and perfectly poised for some serious retribution. She still might not be back at one hundred percent after the wounds she suffered, even with some healing under her belt, but hurt or not Primrose now possessed both the raw strength and the rawer fury to make this overgrown pest pay. The darkness danced along with her as she struck again and again, until she brought down an enormous cross-shaped spear of molten pitch. Her punishment reduced one of Silitha’s legs to mucousy chunks of chitin, and as the arachnid screamed the Dark Lance continued to pulse, only for Rubick’s venom to scald her wounded face with exquisite pain.

Where Bowser’s bombardment ended, however, Junior’s beatdown began. With his clown car’s boxing gloves he made sure to treat Silitha’s head just as thoroughly as she treated his dad beforehand, and when he finished with an overhead slam, the koopa prince bowed her head just in time for Bowser to ram his giant fist straight into her ugly mug. Already cracked, cut, and softened up by the Seekers’ blows, Silitha’s head caved in, splatted like a big, juice bug on a windshield. Her body reeled back, staggered for a couple uneasy steps, and finally rolled onto its back with its legs in the air to melt away. In the color-devoid wood the spirit she left behind lacked its usual rainbow lust, but it shone brightly with power nonetheless. Along with it fell one other, less expected reward: a one-third mask fragment of spotless white.

Her death marked a sudden and drastic shift in the local populace. The hordes of small spiders fled en masse, and the Deephunters too aggressive to follow suit quickly dropped to the forest floor, punctuated by the stingers of angry bees. When the Hive Knight strolled over to join the grip, he looked about as proud as a four-foot insect could bee. “Well met, brave warriors! Few have braved this fell place and lived to tell the tale, yet you’ll be able to spin a fine yarn indeed!” He opened his mouth to continue speaking, only for his cheeks to bulge and his eyes to widen. “Bluh! Bleh!” He spat out two hivelings that floated up above the heroes’ heads, ready to serve as a fuzzy aerial vanguard. “...Begging your pardon. While that was a splendid victory, let us quit this place in haste, I beseech you. Even with the wretched Brood Mother dead, there will ever be weavers in the Webwood. Come, come!” He took off with a long, floating stride, covering a few dozen feet before he even stopped to turn. “This way! Past yonder habitation lies a tunnel of petrified wood, and therein lies the Hollow Bough, where I have made camp. And if you’ll allow me, I shall regale you with mine own tale on the way!”

With the eight-legged multitudes not scared off for long, the Seekers could either head back toward the Ruins, or proceed with the Hive Knight. If they chose to retrace their steps in search of their allies, Barnabee had no choice but to turn and follow along; it was clear that the group had something he wanted. Either way, it didn’t take long for him to do exactly as promised.

“Once again, I am Barnabee, the Hive Knight. That title, I assure you, is a matter of some renown, for it marks me as nothing less than the most devoted and capable guardian of Her Majesty, the Good Queen Vespa!” Having slung his blade over his back, Barnabee clasped his little hands together in a gesture of devotion, his eyes momentarily closed, at which point he almost tripped on a root. “Gah, foul impediment! …No matter. As I was saying, uh…saying…Queen Vespa! Yes, our truest and most rightful ruler, and yet for us loyalists tis a most bitter season, for the Queen has been usurped! Our ancestral homeland the Hive, invaded, plundered, and squatted in by…wasps! Egads, how I hate wasps! I could wring their spindly yellow necks, them and their blasted Queen! …And yet, I am most ashamed. For my rebellion ended in pitiable exile, leaving the vaunted Hive Knight a mere vagrant, traipsing the Under ‘til the day I find a noble lord who would restore our honorable house.”

Sadness overtook him as the Seekers neared their destination, although their departure from the Webwood meant that they were getting their color back. Barnabee turned out much as expected, with yellow and black stripes, a fuzzy brown head, and pitch-black eyes. “I have little to offer at present,” he ventured after a few moments. “But the Hive is a queendom rich beyond measure, where sweetest gold flows like water, but rather more slowly.” He pantomimed viscous honey slowly oozed from a container, then shook his fuzzy head and threw the imaginary flask away. “I have seen that you boast commendable strength! If you could somehow find it within your noble selves to embark upon this quest with me, I can assure your due compensation! We need only make our way to the Under’s distant eastern edge, though Hollow Bough, and then Ash Lake…but that can wait. Please, take all the time you need to consider my humble request!” He clasped his hands together again, bee-seeching the Seekers for aid.

Edinburgh MagicaPolis

Level 8 Big Band (38/80)
Ace Cadet’s @Yankee, Frisk’s @Majoras End, Red’s @TruthHurts22
Word Count: N/A

As the group -for the most part- lined up at the counter, Wicke treated Red and Ace’s mention of detractors with an innocently concerned expression. “Oh my, I certainly don’t know what the critics are talking about, either. And if I did, I wouldn’t be at liberty to tell, teehee. Company policy, you know.” She glanced at the menu of sweets and treats on offer, then turned her attention back to her questioners. “As for what we do, well, we’re a conservation group. To love and protect all Pokemon is our mission statement! We take in those without homes, or those neglected by their owners, and we also look after those who take ill until they’re aaaall better again.”

An almost misty sadness clouded her eyes. “You know, despite how incredible Pokemon are, people can be astonishingly heartless with them! Those who they think are ugly, ones that misbehave, who don’t meet their standards for battle…there are breeders out there who’ll make their pokemon give birth to litter after litter, all in search of just one with certain desirable traits. Then they’ll release the rest, or worse yet, leave them to rot in a Pokecenter box! Can you imagine that? Treated like trash, simply for the crime of being born with the wrong nature!” Wicke stopped herself, then took a deep breath, fanning herself with her hand. “Forgive me, I can get a little emotional. My blood sugar must be running low, but luckily, I know just how to fix that!”

Soon, the small group sat at a comfortable couple of tables in the back of the shop, tucked as far away from any magic as they could get. Band seated himself in a sturdy chair at the end of the booth, where he resided in taciturn silence. Wicke had bought a whole plate of handmade brownies for Sierra’s recruits, although she seemed happy to indulge herself as well. “Ahh,” she sang, closing her eyes as she rested her cheek in one hand. “Magic is a wonderful thing, but there’s nothing quite like a treat made with the human touch!”

After dabbing at her face with a napkin, she clasped her hands and put on a smile so warm it could melt chocolate. “If you’re interested in the Aether Foundation, I’d be only too happy to tell you more! What about our state-of-the-art, climate-controlled habitats, for instance? You could step out of Edinburgh’s freezing cold and straight into the sweltering humidity of a tropical rainforest! All the beautiful pink trees and flowers, painstakingly procured from the Luma Pools! Visit it yourself, and it won’t be long before you see why it’s called Aether Paradise! Our Pokemon have the highest-quality feed we can manage, all grown one hundred percent on-site! No cheap corn fillers here, our Tauros and Miltanks are all one hundred percent grass-fed! Our pokemon live in luxury most humans couldn’t even dream of. We have enrichment programs to keep our smart and fun-loving Pokemon engaged, you wouldn’t imagine all the clever toys and gadgets the sweethearts down in R&D think up! We recruit the best trainers from around the world to help our Pokemon live up to their full potential! And what do we get out of all this, other than the chance to research and study Pokemon in their natural habitat? Why, nothing! Nothing but the satisfaction that we’re doing the right thing, and making the world a better place!” Now that the bubbly woman had gotten started, she could scarcely stop, even to write the Seekers their checks. “Of course, we’d be unable to do all this without our generous donors! The fact that so many people want to give back to the world and its wonderful creatures, month after month, it’s such a beautiful thing. It hurts every time a new tragedy ends up on our doorstep, but seeing a broken Pokemon made whole again, able to laugh and play, it makes all our hard work worth it!”

World of Light

Nice. I've kept Benedict close but in the background, so you'll be all caught up once you read the recent updates you're mentioned in.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

I'm awfully sorry to hear that. I hope you're okay.