Lugubrious

World of Light

As we head toward the weekend, I figure I'd give a little more information on the Detroit Team. There's essentially a lot of stuff to do in the area near the Bunker, so you're free to take whatever action you feel like. This can encompass about an hour or more, and I can supply some info, collab, or offer or NPC action if you're looking to encounter anyone in particular. On Sunday, provided nobody did anything too drastic, we'll visit a Detroit-style pizzeria for a meal at about 6 o clock IC time and next week we'll head back to base.

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

Imogen Reed

While Imogen sort of expected to lay her concerns at the feet of Sofia alone, her being this weird event’s organizer and all, a handful of the other prospective ocean-goers seemed to rally to the ringleader’s defense. Maybe they took issue with the Imogen’s not-so-subtle derision of their mental stability for agreeing to take the icy plunge, or they just wanted as much reinforcement as possible to convince themselves that their commitment to this ritual wasn’t so foolish after all, but one by one they piled their goading on top of Sofia’s.

She naturally couldn’t help but glance at Victor as he prepared himself for a chilly immersion. It went without saying that he sported a pretty impressive physique for someone of his age, and he certainly didn’t seem ashamed about showing it off. To her chagrin he noticed her gaze, and while she rolled her eyes rather than turning beet-red or anything, he seemed to take it as a sign of interest, or at least a way to break the ice. He informed Imogen that she was wrong for not wanting to jump in the frigid water, and that doing so would aid in making her dreams a reality. The audacity of such a claim made her blink a few times in quick succession. Just what did this smirking Frenchman know about her dreams? Ah, but there it was. He went ahead and took his shot, saying Imogen could have his shirt once she got wet, so she might as well dive on in. This guy probably just wanted to see her soaked, show himself off, or both.

Another fellow quickly chimed in as well, even adding his own smirk to the mix, though he didn’t try to get as chummy as Victor did. Rather than try to poke and prod her, Orlando merely suggested an avenue for revenge if things went south, which actually sounded pretty great to Imogen. At least, in theory. If she did take ill, she’d miss a whole bunch of vital classes whether she got due compensation or not, and on the subject of money she doubted she could afford a lawyer for something like this. Plus, she didn’t know if she had the heart to throw down a gauntlet like that. Double plus, Orlando probably wasn’t serious about it, so why should she be? Way to overthink things as usual, Imogen.

In the middle of the pressure came Maive, Imogen’s fellow girl in glasses. She positioned herself to be the voice of reason, but the words that came out of her mouth didn’t make complete sense. It looked like her train of thought was chugging along elsewhere thanks to the boys’ eagerness to unveil their toned bodies, which to be fair was pretty distracting, but if anyone could hide her innermost thoughts it was Imogen.

Some of the others got to talking, but the girl in green focused on Sofia’s response. The upbeat girl didn’t attempt to cajole Imogen like she expected, but just said that a ‘light step in’ would be enough. That alone honestly beat out any other possible reasons to participate in this farce. If she could get away with just wading, she wouldn’t need to worry about ruining her clothes or suffering hypothermia. Probably. Okay, she thought. This whole thing is still ridiculous, but I can put my legs in. I’ll do it! Social skills, here I come!

And then Maive hurtled toward her.

All of a sudden, Imogen was falling backward. She froze solid, taken utterly aback. What just happened? Did that short girl push her!? Why? Some sort of switch flipped inside her, from zero to one one hundred. “FUUUUU-!” Imogen howled, venting everything she had in one mighty expulsion of rage, vehement enough to send spittle flying and make her see stars as she emptied her lungs

Rendered light-headed by the yell and unable to even try to stop herself, she went down, and just a second later, into the drink. As she went under, head-first and paralyzed by shock, the warm light of the imminent sunset disappeared in an instant, and pitch-black darkness closed in around her. Her wide-open eyes stung, and water filled her mouth. Imogen Reed was no stranger to fear or dread, her constant companions on the lonely road laid out before her in life, but it had been a long, long time since she experienced terror. The thought struck her: I’m dying. She began to struggle, trying furiously and in vain to right herself and stop sinking, but her heavy overcoat clung to her like a bodybag and hindered her movement, and she couldn’t tell which way was up. I’mdyingI’mdyingI’mdyingI’mdying her mind screamed as she flailed her limbs. It was so cold. Colder than Dante’s ninth circle. Cold as hell.

Stuck in this frigid void, she found herself quickly losing feeling, and in that numbness came a strange relief. Her senses were overloaded; they could take no more. Imogen’s thrashing gradually came to an end. Somehow, the water around her now swaddled her like a soft blanket, or a gentle embrace. As her consciousness slipped away, it felt like falling asleep, into a deeper, healthier, and more pleasant slumber than Imogen had known for a long, long time. Oh, she thought, scattered and barely awake. Dying’s not so bad, actually. Imogen relaxed, closed her eyes -not that it made any difference- and let the water fill her lungs. Her arms closed around her legs as she folded up into a fetal position. Take me, God!

Sure enough, Imogen got taken, although not in the way she expected. All of a sudden, she found herself in the sky, a foggy gray expanse above a murky sea. She didn’t know when she got here, or how, or anything, and she didn’t really try to think about it. This was well out of her hands now. With nothing in sight, the girl closed her eyes to await whatever came next. Her weary eyes glimpsed neither raft nor gentleman nor valet. Only when gravity very abruptly returned to normal did her eyes fly open, newfound terror pumping through her veins once more. It tore its way from her lips as she plummeted toward the ocean surface yet again, her peaceful acceptance utterly annihilated. Her hands covered her face, shielding her for impact as she screamed.

Then darkness. Again. More cold. Dammit. But this time, things felt a little different. Maybe a little better? But something was there. Something horrible and terrifying, yet intimately familiar. “Who are you!?” Imogen couldn’t help it; she had to know. She didn’t expect a reply, but it came, and proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was a nightmare, after all.

“-UUUCK! OW!” Unable to breath through her mouthful of sand, Imogen jolted awake, and smacked her face into the spar of driftwood she’d come to rest against. Her glasses fell as her hands flew to her face in a fit of coughing that lasted for a few moments. With her mental composure completely broken, she couldn’t stop the tears that sprang to her eyes as she clutched her bruised nose. “Ow, ow, ow, damn it!” she moaned, but as the pain and panic subsided she began to realize that her aching schnozz might be the least of her worries.

She sat on the shore of an idyllic tropical island. It was beautiful, it was warm (especially in her plaid overcoat), and it was thousands upon thousands of kilometers away from the meager, desolate shores of the United Kingdom. Imogen looked around in stunned silence, trying to confirm the truth of what her senses were telling her, but without her glasses she couldn’t see very well. Using her hand as a shovel she picked up a bunch of sand, then let it dribble out between her fingers. Everything seemed as real as real could be. Except for the fact that it was impossible.

A scream rang out, drawing the girl’s attention. That dumbass Sophia was here, and it looked like she fainted. Others from the dock were awake and asking all sorts of frantic questions.

Imogen took a deep, somewhat shaky breath. She was afraid, but she was also very pissed at whatever circumstances led her here. Seeing others succumb somehow strengthened her own resolve. In the spirit of not letting herself be beaten, she decided to figure things out right here and now. I was drowning, she remembered. She must have lost consciousness, which meant just two possibilities. Either her senseless body got recovered, put on a plane, and sent all the way to the tropics before she woke up, or she was still unconscious, and this island wasn’t real. Imogen remembered stories about people in comas reporting all sorts of fantastical dreams upon awakening. Richard Hammond from Top Gear for instance–his story had been so existential and meaningful that it still haunted Imogen from time to time. That must be it, Imogen rationalized. She was unconscious and dreaming. But had she been fished out from the English waters and laid out in a hospital bed, or was she still sinking? Was her mind, in its frenzied dying moments, stretching out instants into hours as one last hurrah before its demise? Or maybe she was already dead, and this was purgatory.

Her head spun with horrifying thoughts. But what was she going to do about any of it? Could she somehow wake herself up and try to save herself in the real world? Did she even want to? Maybe this island was all she had left. Imogen kept herself breathing, trying to stave off the panic. One thing at a time. She was too hot, so she took off her coat. Beneath she was wearing a dark blue t-shirt and black leggings. She couldn’t see, so she felt around until she found her glasses and put them on. “Shit.” The lenses were cracked, which made her even madder, but at least they were there. Unable to sit still any longer, she stood, glaring around at the others. Her eyes landed on Maive, and she saw red.

“You MUPPET!” About one second after Victor tried to console the girl, Imogen thundered her way, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. In her mind, the others were just figments of her own coma-dream, and she felt no need to contain herself any more. “This is all your damn fault! Why the hell’d’you have to go and push me, huh? I was goin’ in on my own! Now we’re all gonna die!” A rattling breath shook Imogen, disrupting her offense. Her eyes landed on Sofia, who Daniel was already busy grabbing hold of and was not a suitable target for venting. Instead she pounded her fist against the head of the one most to blame for this predicament: herself. How could she be so stupid as to let this happen, after all? “Aaaaagh! This is un-fuckin’-believable!”

World of Light

Suoh

Sector 3 Supper
Level 3 Goldlewis (2/30)
Goldlewis, Peach, Raz’s @Truthhurts22, Roxas’ @Double, Sakura and Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Pit’s @Yankee
Word Count: 793

For Goldlewis

New Power acquired:
Overdrive
Once possessed of at least fifty percent tension, Goldlewis can unleash one of two Overdrives. The first, Down With the System, is his only ‘invincible’ technique and is a coffin uppercut of tremendous power. If given a brief window to wind up, he can make it even stronger, at which point the UMA will add copter grenades to the mix to chase down and blow up whoever Goldlewis launched. His second Overdrive is Burn It Down, in which he uses his glasses’ laser sight to designate a target for orbital laser. The laser is thicker than a barrel and very bright, but doesn’t actually do that much damage; instead, it moves toward Goldlewis, drawing anyone caught up in it toward him as well. It cannot be used indoors

During the first few moments of his mealtime meeting at Musubi’s, Luka received a variety of first impressions from his new acquaintances. One of the first opened with a comment about his apparent age, which earned a look somewhere between a wince and a smile. “I suppose I should thank the anti-aging drugs for that,” he joked in reply. “Or blame them, however the case might be.” If he made any assumptions about a sardonic nature on her part, however, she soon put them to rest with a formal introduction as the Princess of Twilight. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Midna. Or should I perhaps call you ‘my lady’? You’ll have to forgive me if I slip up, we don’t often stand on ceremony in Psych-OSF.”

Karin set out to establish an overall tone for the meal from the outset, but despite his solemn appearance Luka didn’t seem dead-set on formality. “Oh, I’d be happy just to enjoy a meal and conversation with you all,” he told her. “Truth be told, I’m not sure what business I could conduct on behalf of the organization, but if there’s anything I can help with, please be sure to ask.”

While Goldlewis and Peach made themselves known pleasantly and formally enough, Roxas followed them up by declining to extend so much as a greeting, let alone his name. Instead he seated himself in silence, giving a sullen air, but Luka wasn’t one to try and press any issue someone might have with him. In any case, Pit quickly compensated for Roxas’ disinterest with an extra dose of gregariousness. While not exactly the most eloquent, the angel made up for it with some good-intentioned flattery, and went on to mention the recruits straightaway.

“Oh? You mean some of you are interested in joining the Scarlet Guardians?” Luka set down his water glass, his eyebrows raised in an expression of mild surprise and/or interest, though that could just as easily be a polite affectation.

Goldlewis cleared his throat, loosening his tie a little. He hadn’t planned to broach that subject so soon, but there was no accounting for young folks trying to be helpful, he supposed. “That’s right,” he told Luka. “Miss Sakura here, Miss Peach, and Mr. Raz.” The veteran gestured to the prospective applicants one at a time, giving each a chance to wave, raise their hands, or so forth. Peach gave a peace sign and a cheerful smile when it was her turn. “In fact, we were gonna try an’ get ‘em enlisted today, ‘cept that business with the Others got in the way.”

“I see.” Luka nodded seriously. “Apologies about that. Otherfall in Suoh is a rare and unlucky occurrence. But I’m glad you all seem eager to join! A heart for humanity is a wonderful thing. Psych-OSF may not be desperate for new recruits nowadays, but they’ve always got an eye for talent, and if you’re already able to challenge Others as civilians I’m certain you’ve got promising careers ahead of you.” His eyes landed on Peach, full of understanding, and his tone was even. “That new look of yours is especially sharp. Just by looking at you, I’d half expect you were a cadet already.”

Peach offered a smile like sunshine. “Well, thank you! I, eheh, wanted to put my best foot forward!”

“The beginning of a great journey is in itself a cause for celebration,” Luka continued. He waved at a passing server, raising his voice slightly. “Oh, waitress? May I please order a selection of appetizers? How about this, and this?”

All around the Seekers, the atmosphere in Musubi’s was incredibly lively. Suoh citizens, Seiran workers yet to head home, out-of-sector tourists, and even off-duty OSF personnel were packing the place to the brim. A listening ear would find that Others, the Ever Crisis, and Midar politics were as popular subjects as entertainment and celebrities. With sake and other liquors available, many of Musubi’s patrons were having a rollicking good time, helped out by the puzzles and other gimmicks afforded by the Visions at the tables, but there were plenty more juicy morsels to be had than idle brainteasers if one paid attention. Still, the atmosphere managed to be jazzy rather than raucous, and a handful of couples on dates could be found. Among them was a familiar face from the battle against the others: Kagero Donne, in civilian dress very similar to his battle garb, all things considered. With him was a beautiful woman with a purple ponytail, who somehow managed to make an ordinary sweater and skirt look glamorous, and despite it being sundown wore sunglasses.

Soon, fresh orders of takoyaki, crab rangoon, and dumplings were delivered for the Seekers to sample as they pleased. By that time they could place their entree orders as well, which presented Goldlewis with a problem. In his massive mitts the chopsticks here were like toothpicks. What could a gargantuan American possibly get to eat in this place? He ended up going with a curry plate, a sushi roll, and some gyoza. Soon, the real meal and the real conversation could start.

Detroit

Sector 8 Lower
Level 11 Tora (129/110) Level 12 Poppi (19/120)
Susie and Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Raiden’s @XoXKieroBombXoX, Geralt’s @Multi_Media_Man, Benedict’s @Dark Cloud
Word Count: 1471

Before the team got underway, Benedict offered his two cents on Poppi’s proposed plan of action. His disapproval of her idea made the artificial blade second-guess herself, since it was true that the others might not be feeling up for another excursion, especially at the rate Khamsin would be moving once he reached the road. In fact, she felt a little guilty for failing to consider the condition of her organic teammates, who unlike her didn’t enjoy the privilege of being able to simply increase their intake of atmospheric ether to compensate for lost energy.

Giovanna did not let herself be so easily cowed, however. “What, don’t want us fraternizing with your rivals, Turk?” she countered. “Well, we’re not planning to do anything untoward. Just a quick, casual peek from the outside. We might not get a better chance.” After finishing her braid, she tossed it over her shoulder in a flippant manner, then put her hands on her hips. “Even if the feds have my number, we’ll be gone long before they show up. You, meanwhile, were captured and compromised. You sure you still have friends in Public Security? This city’s full of criminals, but liabilities…well, they don’t last long, right?”

“Meh, friends?” Tora piped up. “Angrypon Khamsin about to get away!”

Sure enough, the Wind of Destruction had reached the street. Rather than continue to slowly lumber about, after reaching suitably flat and smooth terrain. he could dig in his war machine’s feet and began to slide down down the road. There was no more time to waste. Poppi scooped Tora up into her arms and took off, using her back-mounted thrusters to turn her steps into meters-long strides as she ran. “We’ll take point!” she called back to the others, not intending to leave them in the dust. This could work out just like the chase through Al Mamoon two days ago, with the Seekers in pursuit of the next fastest ally instead of the target. “Time to follow the leader! We’ll stay on Khamsin’s trail, so keep your eyes on us!” And if Blazermate could mark him, all the better. She wouldn’t be able to keep up with him for long, and even if she could, he didn’t seem to be in the mood for idle chatter.

As the Seekers rushed off, two figures watched from the roof of the factory where they’d stopped to get their bearings before the construction site fiasco began. Their faces were hidden, but on the fronts of their black balaclavas blazed white holographic eyes, like cyclopes of legend. They said nothing, but saw everything, and once the last living things left the scene below the two of them vacated the factory roof as well. In the undercities, information was one of the hottest commodities, and these two were about to be rich men.

---

Enormous military hardware plus busy city streets made for an interesting combination. When the way was clear Khamsin could rumble down the roadways like a freight train, much faster than the average Seeker could run, but he was hard to miss, and for all the savage strength and untreated mania the cyborg displayed earlier, wanton destruction appeared to be off the cards. Despite everything looking rather like a nail to a man with one hell of a hammer, he abstained from smashing through or stomping on cars in his way, and he didn’t attempt to take to the cluttered and narrowed sidewalks, either. This led to the rather amusing spectacle of a giant mech waiting in traffic, which turned out to be a saving grace for those tailing him. There were no convenient sky-lines around after all, with any that did show up just as likely to swerve away again the second anyone jumped on, and without foreknowledge of Khamsin’s route the followers couldn’t take shortcuts to shave off time. At least some of the more mobile team members could lend a hand to those in need, like Poppi for Tora, or one of the other lady-bots for Benedict. Still, the crew hurtled through the dark streets in a rather haphazard rush, drawing all sorts of eyes as they went. All except for Khamsin himself, who seemed not only unobservant, but crucially lacking in the peripheral vision department.

Before too long, the Seekers reached their destination. At that point even Giovanna could barely stand, her breathing ragged as she gasped for air. When she fell, plopping down into Rei’s cushioning fluff, the whole team basically followed suit and collapsed around a small plaza with a statue on display and an odd depression in the back to watch Khamsin as he returned to base.

DespoRHado’s famous Bunker was quite a sight. It took the form of an utterly massive building, big enough to have its own little city block all to itself, and it wasn’t just tall, but girthy. Completely unconcerned with aesthetics, the Bunker was an ugly, bulbous block of metal and concrete, several feet thick in places and bulging outward toward the bottom, with glass and other potential vulnerabilities kept to an absolute minimum. Up high, things were even stranger. From the top of the building extended an enormous radial panel, covering the nearby city in its shade like a giant parasol, but they couldn’t possibly be solar panels in an undercity where the sun never reached. Giovanna had expected a sprawling complex with high perimeter walls and patrolling guards, maybe just because that look lay fresh in her mind thanks to the brewery, but this was a citadel decked out in the logos and colors of DespoRHado, black and red. That said, it did have a handful of guards around the main entrance: doll-like androids with a variety of weapons from swords to axes to guns. From a safe, respectful distance up the street she watched a set of giant doors on one of the Bunker’s sides slide open, and Khamsin disappeared inside.

Tora was in awe. “Look like very tough nut to crack. Could probably shrug off direct hit from Red Eye! Good thing friends not have quarrel with DespoRHado, meh.”

Poppi agreed, but her search didn’t end with the Bunker. Her eyes fell on a brick wall near the statue where everyone came to rest, covered with posters. “What’s all this?” At one point a number of simple, striking black posters had been attached there, nice and orderly, but since then most had been either ripped up, torn off, slashed, or covered in paint. Now most of it lay buried under posters of blue and red, reading things like ’I have a dream’ and ’keeping war off our shores’, all featuring stylized depictions of a formidable, stern, square-jawed man with glasses. “Armstrong,” Poppi read aloud. “Khamsin mentioned that name, too.”

“He’s the current president’s biggest opponent in the upcoming election,” Giovanna explained, glancing over. “There’s a couple third-party candidates, but none of them even come close. He’s popular in the undercities and allegedly has DespoRHado backing him. Given what we saw with Khamsin, that might be true.” She took a deep breath and stood, dismissing Rei. “That means things could get ugly. Very ugly. Let’s take a look around this whole area, check out whatever catches your eye. Just don’t get too close to the Bunker.” Her pointed gaze suggested that she didn’t need to add ’looking at you, Raiden.

Although the Bunker dominated this area, bathing the area in shadow and bringing out all the glaring blue and yellow lights, it was also the heart of Detroit. It featured a number of other shops and businesses, from Chinese food to a bookstore to a batting center, any of which the Seekers could check out if so desired. There appeared to be a local Limb Clinic and Android Zone as well, though both had DepoRHado-affiliated branding. G-men seemed conspicuously absent, though in their place small patrols of DespoRHado cyborgs and androids could be found here and there, their optics kept sharp for any would-be threats. Thanks to their presence the people here seemed to be every bit on edge as in ones policed by G-men. Giovanna moved around to try and get a better look at the Bunker itself, being as discreet as possible.

The Ruins - Dripstone Cave

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

Some quick thinking and expert use of power from Rubick quickly snatched the little Yordle away from the jaws -or proboscises, as it were- of parasitism and spirited him away to safety. The sorcerer’s heroism left the mosquitoes that had been poised to drain Teemo’s juices thirsty, angry, and faced with a whole new crop of bloodbags to suck from.

Unfortunately, the plus-size pests learned that hard way that the Koopa Troop weren’t about to part with a single sanguine drop. Kamek’s red-clad copies backed up Bowser in a tremendous display of firepower, lighting up the whole cavern with their fusillade of flame. Even the Koopa King’s slow-moving fireballs got some play, since these bugs weren’t exactly fast. They burned up and burst like oversized tomatoes, the rotten blood inside their bloated bellies sizzled into foul-smelling vapor as their bodies were obliterated. The commotion aroused more mosquitoes from their hidey-holes around the pungent poison swamp, but the reinforcements just buzzed straight to their demise as well, flash-fried by Koopa conflagration or flash-petrified by Rika’s cockatrice.

Once Kamek’s medic clone tended to Teemo, the little guy wasted no time joining in the slaughter himself. With his trusty blowpipe he zipped off darts with incredible precision, and even without any special coatings they pierced pest after rancid pest, oftentimes cutting them into pieces to twitch uselessly on the quagmire’s surface. While it might have been too dark in this cavern for such remarkable marksmanship normally, the flames of his newfound comrades provided more than enough light, and the Swift Scout provided what help he could in return. While his voice might seem silly, his callouts were useful, and suggestive of a long and storied career of hairy situations.

With a little extra strategy added to the mix, the giant mosquitoes stood no chance. In short order Bowser, Kamek, Rika, and Teemo managed to exterminate the whole swarm. Though dark and dingy as ever, somehow the area seemed a little brighter for their absence, and finding a new friend was surely a silver lining.

Back toward the entrance, in the less malodorous part of the dripstone cave, Junior was having bug troubles of his own. The Migospels just weren’t very helpful, but even still, the young prince couldn’t turn a blind eye to the plight of their party’s sickly member. After Primrose left to investigate the Snail Shaman he cast Cure to heal any wounds, then Esuna to cleanse the makeup-slathered insect of any negative statuses. Doing so provoked a response, but not necessarily what he expected. It jerked suddenly, looking Junior’s way. That orange glimmer in its eyes had not diminished whatsoever. In fact, it looked more active. Like cockroaches that skittered away to shelter at high speed when a light came on, or perhaps more like ants in a disturbed anthill, for the orange light in its eyes stirred violently, as if it sensed it were under attack. Almost like something was moving around in there, some sort of lambent collective for which this sorry Migospel was only a shell.

The bug jerked again, more violently this time, and its head lolled sideways. A crack appeared in its neck, and from the rupture more orange gunk leaked. It swelled into clusters of glowing boils, swollen like overripe grapes and connected by fungal-looking mycelia, all of which subtly pulsed as if to the beat of an unseen heart. As the Migospel shuddered, and took an unsteady step toward Junior, more cracks spread around its left eye for additional pustules to emerge. At this point the other Migospel took notice, and approached to see what was wrong with their friend. The unwell insect filled its cheeks, preparing to spit.

A black-and-yellow blur streaked behind the Migospel as Barnabee flash-stepped in. “ZAH!” With a well-aimed slice he carved through the legs of the would-be spitter with his saw-toothed sword, dropping it where it stood.. The other monsters jumped back, alarmed and ready to fight if need be, but Barnabee held out his hand. “Get back!” he roared. “Tis the infection!”

The body of the Migospel began to thrash around. Barnabee leaped backward as a bunch of Lightseeds erupted from the corpse, scurrying around as it turned to ash. While the Hive Knight made an enormous leap backward, the Lightseeds looked a lot like glowing balloons to the Migospels, and with delighted cries they ran around to scoop them up. “Fie, you fools!” Barnabee cried. “Thou musn’t touch it!”

Away from all the chaos, Primrose’s jaunt up through the misty, mask-laden path brought her to what seemed to be the humble dwelling of the curious creature she spotted before. She found him, sitting not on a carefully-assembled bench of fossilized insect legs, but on the steps of a quaint -not to mention grim- little shelter with an interior covered in masks, all hung so as to stare soullessly down at whomever might rest upon the cushions within.

It was tough to discern much from him in terms of expression, but his voice sounded intrigued, and maybe even amused when he replied to her greeting. “Oho! Who is that creeping out of the darkness? My, you look sleek! A soft, pale face and a strange, cloth-draped form! I can sense a majestic arcane power from you…” The Shaman fell silent and listened to the dancer’s questions. He turned them over in his head, then after a moment, shook it. “Alas, I’m afraid I have not seen any such visage. I was lucky to have so much as glimpsed you as your cohort passed by. A friendly face is a rare sight indeed, so filled are these ancient halls with beasts and scoundrels and far, far worse…”

After a brief pause the mystic tilted his head with a playful air. “Oho, but it wouldn’t be so strange if they did pass by, only to seemingly vanish from sight. For while that cavern may seem a dead end, there is a way to delve still deeper, hidden from view. Scale the root of the buried tree, and you just might discover a secret wall, through which you might pass as easily as any of the spirits haunting this place.”

“As for soft and round…” He took his hands in his staff and stood. “There is something that smells within this Ancestral Mound, although I would not call it nice! If you were to plumb the depths of this temple, you might find a putrid yet placid creature to carve a succulent morsel from, ohoho!” With his free hand he gestured down a passageway.

“Hmm…” The Shaman looked Primrose right in the eyes. “Something important has drawn you down into Hallownest's corpse, but I won't ask what. Perhaps the reason you've found me is because you need my help?” He chuckled. “Say no more, friend. I'm going to give you a gift, a nasty little spell of my own creation. It's just perfect for a mysterious one like you! Ohoho!”

He held out his hand and a white wisp appeared, its form flickering like flame. If accepted by Primrose, the Vengeful Spirit would be hers–as well as a spell of unconsciousness as its power temporarily overloaded her senses.

The Under - Monster Guts

Level 10 Nadia (98/100)
Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Omori’s @Majoras End, Ganondorf’s @Double
Word Count: 1859

When the squad of visceral villains swarmed the heroes, Nadia took the chance while Scolex was burrowing to put some distance between herself and her allies. Not only did she not want to risk that crimson tapeworm sailing into a friend while she tried to fight it, but the feral didn’t want a piece of anyone else’s adversary, either. Besides, while teamwork sure made the dream work in that last fight with Mom and her eldritch cohort, these monsters looked like chumps in comparison. Grinning, Nadia skidded to a stop at one edge of the chamber’s central plateau, which was rapidly becoming an arena. “C’mon, ya big weenie!” she yelled at the walls. “Bring it! I’ve had worse than you on the Innsmouth boardwalk!”

Whether or not it understood her, Scolex obliged. It emerged from the sloped floor below Nadia and leaped toward her. She dodged early, but just as she saw during its earlier jump, the sinuous creature lacked any sort of air control. With Nadia’s heart racing from adrenaline, she felt like she had all the time in the world to wait as Scolex passed her by, then bring both anchors down in an all-out chop. “Franks for nothin’!”

Her makeshift axes bounced violently off its elastic skin, throwing her backward. “Whoa-oa-oa!” she yowled, staggering a few steps in a vain attempt to keep her balance only to plummet off the side of the arena. She dropped a couple feet and smacked down on the sloped flesh wall, then immediately began to slide down the slick incline. “Oh no,” she groaned, both at the possibility of getting stuck in a crevice at the bottom against the raised arena, and the mucus that now coated the back of her jacket. Thank goodness I have it on. Thinking quickly, she reversed her grip on her anchors and twisted around to embed them in the meat, bringing her slip-and-slide to a sudden halt.

She got to her feet and began to climb, aware that her foe could appear again at any moment. When it did she readied herself for a dodge, but this time Scolex only emerged partway, and from its grotesque sucker-mouth it unleashed a torrential shower of bloody tears. “The hell?” Nadia gritted her teeth, stashed her anchors, and despite her misgivings took off across the fleshscape on all fours, using her claws to gain traction. “If anything, I should be throwin’ up at the sight of you!” Scolex unleashed blast after blast, then curled back into the ‘ground’ to dig through it. With her hands against the flesh, much to her chagrin, Nadia could feel the vibrations as it got closer. In the nick of time she arched her back as Scolex erupted directly in front of her, missing its quarry by inches as she gracefully flipped back onto her feet. “Hah!” the thief spat. “Try all you want, you’ll never ketchup to me.”

Scolex arced through the air to dive back in, but as it did Nadia spotted something she hadn’t before: its flashing red tail. If its body was impervious, that had to be a weak spot–that or its loathsome head. A second later, that tail popped out from the same spot, and from the center the tapeworm launched a triple-barrage of much larger, flashing globules. “Hmm~” she murmured, her brows narrowing. The feral dug in her claws and began to climb, moving higher up the increasingly sloped fleshscape toward the point where floor became wall. Explosions went off one by one behind her, sending ripples through the meat and sometimes glancing off her legs, but even as her progress slowed Nadia kept on climbing. After a couple moments the blasts stopped, but by the time that Nadia remembered what that meant Scolex had already burst up beneath her.

“Agh!” She hurtled backward away from the wall and through the air, driven by the giant sucker buried in her gut. With an angry cry she tried to scratch her attacker’s eyes, failed, then had a brainwave. Laughing through the pain, she released just enough blood to summon a Copycat inside the parasite’s gullet. The doppelganger went to work shredding and severing Scolex from the inside, forcing it to relinquish its grip. Once free, Nadia shot her arm back toward the wall and grappled over, landing even higher than when she left. There she clung, panting, until Scolex buried itself and finally re-emerged, tail end first. “I’m gonna relish this,” Nadia smirked, letting go. She began to slide down the flesh wall, quickly picking up speed as she dodged left and right to avoid her enemy’s bombs, and this time she remembered to use her Night Light to help her not get hit. One second passed, then two. At just the right time the feral leaped off the slope, flying toward the offending tail. It began to recede, but Nadia extended her hand. “Not so fast!” Beside her, Idea manifested, traveling with her thanks to her inertia. “Maybe I can’t slash your body,” Nadia told it as her nightmarish strikers extended its seven long, supply tongues to ensnare the tapeworm’s body. “But we can sure as hell grab it!”

With all its strength, Idea yanked Scolex back out of its hole and in a single gigantic revolution whirled the monster overhead. It slammed down with back-breaking force against the edge of the arena. The tapeworm’s tail dangled limply over the edge as Nadia dropped to the slope again, sliding to a stop beside it. “I mustard-mit, ya almost got me once or twice there. But to the wiener,” she gloated with a wide smile. “Goes the spoils.” With a cry she unleashes Fursurker Purrage straight to the weak spot to finish the fetid fiend off.

By that point, the other Seekers’ fights had progressed too, some reaching their own dramatic conclusions. Her team actually got them all! While Ganondorf pulverized Blastocyst, Sectonia excised Teratoma, Jesse squished Mr. Fred, Therion got a lock on Lokii, the Knight blotted out the Bloat, and Omori even managed to exterminate Triachnid. That kid had some guts in him after all! As he went to itemize his miniboss, Nadia went ahead and did the same.

For Omori

You have acquired:
The Intruder
This item has appeared centimeters away from Omori and must be very consciously avoided to not be equipped. A spider appears inside the taker’s head, its face visible inside the taker’s mouth. Every 1.5 seconds, it can execute a coordinated attack with its host as long as the host’s mouth is open to shoot four sticky tears that slow and deal damage. Upon the host taking damage, there’s a chance that the Intruder will forcibly emerge, spawning a couple friendly tiny spiders as it does. At that point it will attack on its own for the duration of the encounter, leaping and shooting at enemies, and when the encounter concludes the Intruder will return from whence it came

For Nadia

You have acquired:
Worm Friend
This item has appeared centimeters away from Nadia and must be very consciously avoided to not be equipped. Gives the host a Nerve Ending familiar that’s essentially a crimson worm. It can be sent out to rapidly burrow through the ground and emerge at any point the host can see in order to grab an enemy. It will attempt to hold its target in place while dealing construction damage. After completing its trip it can only be sent out again after five seconds

Naturally, Nadia accidentally picked hers up the instant it appeared, not even getting a good look at it. She braced herself for something horrible, but all that happened was that a red worm of some kind appeared and dug into the ground. Super. As she looked around, though, Nadia came to realize that something was wrong anyway. Now that her adrenaline was dying down, she found out that she was tired, hurt, low on blood, and even after a satisfying victory, she felt pretty…bad. In fact, she felt somewhat woozy, queasy, and despite this place’s ambient heat, chilly. ...Did I get sick? It’d be weird if I didn’t honestly, after everything I’ve gone through. “I could use some healin’,” she called to Jesse, since the FBC director offered. That wasn’t all, though. That distant, guttural heartbeat had grown louder, and with it came a new noise: a low roar like that of a pounding cataract. Furthermore, the cavern itself had taken some serious damage from all the fighting. The pink flesh walls had dried out, stiffened, and eventually cracked.

Before Nadia’s eyes, the cracks continued to spread, and from the fissures seeped blood. It began as a trickle, and quickly swelled to a stream. Blood poured from the walls, and the whole room rumbled like Mom’s chamber had. This time it rocked beneath hern almost throwing her off her feet, and as blood began to pool in the basin around the arena she clambered up onto the platform. “The hell’s going-” A thunderous cracking sound cut her off as the one one of the upper walls gave way, allowing a tide of blood to flood through the visceral cavern to slam into and the opposite wall. All around, the chamber began to crumble, and as the blood filled up the central platform floated atop it. The higher it ascended, the better Nadia and the others could see through the breach, until after a couple moments they reached a height that allowed them to peer in horror at a pulsating room in which dwelled an abominable thing, part heart, part brain, part fetus, and altogether too much to bear–especially when its laughter ceased, and it it opened baleful, staring eyes upon the heroes before it.

It Lives let out a bloodcurdling scream. The tubes that connected to its surroundings moved through the flesh and lifted the nightmare off the ground, its limbs, cords, and vestigial wings dangling loosely. It began to move forward, suspended like a marionette from the ceiling. At that point the dam broke behind the team in the blood-swamped round, breaking through the far wall. It Lives disappeared into the distance as the raging current swept the platform along with it, and after a moment spent hurtling down a vascular chute it emerged into a much, much larger tunnel of flesh, awash with blood like a colossal, macabre underground waterway.

“Rapids again?” Nadia joked weakly as stood to her feet, a lot shakier than she would have liked. Around the raft churned a sea of ruby-red vital fluid as it washed down the gargantuan artery that twisted and turned through the bowels of the earth. “This is the second time today, fur cryin’ out loud. At least we got away from that freaky baby.” She shivered. “Although, after sayin’ that, I can’t help but wonder if it’s gonna shop up again…”

Right on cue, It Lives arrived. It descended from the ceiling, shook itself free of monster guts with an angry cry and began to follow the raft. This thing was huge, and its body beat like a heart with eldritch light. While it didn’t really terrify Nadia like she felt it probably should, she didn’t know how the Seekers would fight it after everything they’d already been through, especially considering how far out of melee range it dangled.

But the Seekers had an ace in the hole, and as It Lives descended to inundate them with bloody tears, their Assist Trophies flipped the scales. On the right side of the raft, called by Therion’s heaven-sent trophy, the seraphic behemoth Sapientia arose from the waves of blood. Loosely resembling a massive, winged salamander, with claws and masks of marble adorned with with armor of gold, Sapientia roared at It Lives, its voice of potent but utterly alien authority. On the right side, summoned by Sectonia’s devilish trophy, came the fearsome leviathan Kraken with its golden teeth and jewel-encrusted, anchor-bladed tentacles. Together both angel and demon rallied to help the flagging Seekers fight It Lives–not to mention one another, in a maelstrom of thrashing tentacles, gnashing teeth, cherub-faced missiles with halos, and laser-blasting eye stalks extended from inside Sapientia’s neck as its holy head split in twain. It was complete and utter chaos, a fight for survival among the titans in a rushing river of blood, so fast that the raft could do loop-de-loops around the inside of the artery, yet somehow Nadia loved it.

Edinburgh MagicaPolis - Noumenon

Level 8 Big Band (45/80)
Ace Cadet’s @Yankee, Frisk’s @Majoras End, Red’s @TruthHurts22
Word Count: 1188

Soon after making his snazzy ultimatum, Band came to a pretty important conclusion. Artemis wasn’t only floating in midair, but doing so over one of the four pits that could be found in every Noumen floor in the ordinal directions from its center. Making good on his throat might be a lot tougher than he thought if he couldn’t get close, since his only ranged option -Giant Step- wouldn’t do a lick of good against any enemies not on the ground.

The resident Monster Hunter was better prepared. With a huge bow Ace fired off arrow after arrow, each sent hurtling through the air in spirals of wind to the tune of a bassy THUMP. His hefty projectiles slammed into Artemis’ body, and though they elicited small staggers from the aerial demon, it barely moved from its spot. Evidently this unnatural creature elected not to obey the same laws of physics as everything else. That same proclivity toward remaining at a fixed position in the air made it a prime target for Ace’s Blade Wire, though. Suspended between two well-aimed arrows, his razor-sharp cutting edge sheared through the air and into the demon’s center of mass. It cut into the pair of wings crossed ever-so-daintily in front of its waist, and though it failed to sever them it also managed to leave a gash in the monster’s torso. For a very brief moment, the keen-eyed observer could just about see something cocooned inside Artemis, human in appearance. Then the cut scabbed over and Artemis rocketed across the room again. It slid to a stop in the air with vents of steam from its eye-wings like afterburners, and the fight resumed.

Other than Ace, however, this makeshift team really seemed to be suffering in the range department. While the sight of a magic shield summoned so that she might protect the weak convinced Band that the rather unassuming Frisk knew her way around a fight after all, the sweater-clad supporter quickly alerted the others to the fact that she couldn’t really fight from range, either. Her friend Albedo fared no better. “Unfortunately I cannot either,” the Alchemist said, calmly dipping away from the row of purple lasers. “I can provide a vertical boost, but this presents a unique challenge.” He took a quick glance back to gauge the destruction caused by the demon’s volley. Those projectiles scattered, burst, and burned some books and furniture, but seemed no more dangerous than individual Catalyst attacks by themselves. “At least it possesses only moderate stopping power.”

“I feel y’all,” Band sympathized, gearing up for another dodge as Artemis began to reposition its wings. After assuming a certain pose, it let out another clarion high note, and a ray dropped from its center point downward. At the terminus it burst into a horizontal spread of rays that covered a hundred and eighty degrees. Taken by surprise, Band couldn’t jump over it in time, so he just blocked instead. Not much chip damage, he was happy to note. “I prefer up-close and personal performances myself. But there ain’t nobody I can’t play along with!” He extended his giant mechanical arms to grab hold of chairs from nearby desks. He hurled them at Artemis one after another, and while his first went wide his second splintered against her body.

In response, it reeled back and popped out four pods from its torso. They flew through the air like missiles, but not ones aimed toward the Seekers. After taking up random positions around the battlefield they froze in the air, opened up, and began to shoot their own lasers at their targets like floating turrets. Two took aim at Ace, and the other pair at Band. Once he realized what was happening he blocked their shots, left more bewildered than hurt. “Huh?” he grunted, raising an eyebrow at Artemis. “Don’t you…need those?”

The monster replied scathingly in an unintelligible demonic tongue, and sang out another horizontal spread of lasers.

“...Forget I asked.” Band managed to jump over it this time, then took hold of and hurled an overturned table once he’d made sure no children happened to be using it for cover. This time Artemis managed to blast his projectile into kindling, which earned it an annoyed grunt. “Hmph!” It would have been nice if that kept working, but even if it did his options were pretty lackluster. While he could blast off and soar through the library’s dusty heights with the power of sound, he couldn’t attack at the same time, and if his foray as an aerial battering ram went awry the detective would have all the time he needed to think of better ideas during his twenty-seven story drop to ground zero. “I got a high-flyin’ drumalong that’ll have this songbird seein’ stars, but I can’t afford to waste it,” he told the others.

Albedo gave a nod of confirmation, though he was otherwise engaged. He’d used his alchemy to bring into being a supple sapling, which he new bent back with his Cinnabar Spindle nestled among the upper branches. Seeing that he was doing, and choosing to ignore the maneuver’s impracticality, Band hustle from the floor’s center down its westward bridge, grabbing a candlestick to try and get the demon’s attention. It turned to look his way, and a moment later Albedo sent his sword flying into one of his target’s wings. Artemis gave a shrill cry and turned his way, only for Band’s candlestick to smack it upside the head. “Over here! I’ll give you somethin’ to really cry about!”

With a growl Artemis furled her wings. Band expected another laser array, but this time his foe’s formation was different, and after a brief moment she zoomed forward, propelled by rearward blasts from every eye on her six wings. “What the-!” Band barely blocked in time as Artemis smashed into and through the east bridge, and amidst the deluge of wooden shards the big man flew backward into the far perimeter wall to smash into the bookcase. He slid to the floor, buried in paper and dust, and with a leer Artemis turned to face the others. She’d gotten an idea. With another burst of speed she rocketed across the room, then bulled through the western bridge. Suddenly, the floor’s center area had half the support. As it rocked dangerously the kids who’d already been weeping began to howl in terror.

Albedo’s response was immediate. He charged toward where Artemis ended up and leaped, using a Solar Isotoma to boost him up. With a cold face he flew toward the demon, blade upheld to chop her neck, but she furled four of her wings to block him. After taking only a shallow cut to the face she flung him back toward solid ground, then curled her wings into an O shape around her. The eyes flared up with a brilliant ring-shaped glow, and a second later Artemis unleashed a giant pink laser beam that swept across the twenty-seventh floor from one side to the other, destroying all the railings and other odds and ends of furniture that went unprotected.

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

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

Imogen Reed

9/15

Huh. For a semi-remote, almost forlorn dockhouse, there seemed to be a surprising amount of people here, all about her age too. This must be an official school event after all, to have somehow roused so many students from their warm dorms to brace themselves against the nippy coastal gusts at sundown. But as Imogen looked between their faces, a sensation of familiarity quickly built up within her. She might not know -or she might have just forgotten- their names, but something about this particular assembly of students convinced her that she’d seen them all before. Or was that just her own wishful thinking tricking her, out of a subtle urge to do right by others where she felt they did wrong by her, and conscientiously avoid letting others fade unceremoniously into the background?

Regardless, there really were a lot of people here. For a little while they made no attempt at conversation, instead listening to the gentle chorus of wind and sea under the implicit assumption that they were all here for the same reason, not just bystanders drawn into awkward proximity by the whims of fate. Imogen felt no need to disturb the peace and quiet, or to insist on meeting anyone else’s gaze, even if just for a rhetorical questioning glance. They probably didn’t know any better than her, after all, and she gauged that the air of resignation here, about an evening wasted on probably nonsense, outweighed the air of curiosity. There was even a girl up on the dockhouse roof, chowing down on a bag of snacks while she gazed imperiously down. Imogen admired what struck her as bravado, and wondered which of the frozen meals in her fridge she ought to thaw out when she got back. She’d been so busy with her homework that she forgot to eat before coming, and to her chagrin she felt a little weak from hunger.

A couple more people trickled in to join the small crowd in waiting for whoever orchestrated this event to reveal themselves. Some of those who arrived, however, couldn’t stand the silence, and felt the need to break it. A guy with brown hair greeted his forerunners halfheartedly, asking them what was going on. Not that anyone would know, but Imogen felt it would be rude to ignore him. “Wish I knew myself,” she replied, just loud enough to be heard over the breeze-licked surf if the others were listening, but quiet enough that her response could just as easily slip away if nobody cared to hear. After coming to a stop next to Danny the eighth and final arrival, a fidgety beanpole who seemed so slight and shy that one of the stiff winds around here might knock her into the water, dithered about the ambiguity and weirdness of the situation. The weirdest thing to Imogen, though, was how lightly dressed some of these people were. An English shore was no place for shorts!

Then the dockhouse door flew open with a crash, startling Imogen pretty badly. It took only a split second to realize that everything was fine, but the sight of Sofia -whose face and name she did acutely remember, for better or worse- threw all her expectations out the window. Some of her peers might have expected this, but it did come as a surprise to Imogen. After what happened at the Icebreaker, she figured that Sofia might as well vanish off the face of the earth; by her reckoning, there wasn’t a single soul on God’s gray earth with enough guts to try and follow up that act. But here she was, just as abashedly goofy as she’d been before. At least this time she spared her audience the dated pop culture references in favor of a simple ‘thanks for coming’.

Imogen’s face had morphed from one of mild shock to a wince, with eyebrows both furrowed and upturned accompanying a thin, uneasy smile. It was the sort of expression one might make at a kitten who’d just failed to clear the jump from coffee table to couch. “...Sure,” she replied tentatively. She didn’t want to spit in the face of Sofia’s clear -if woefully misguided- sincerity, but she realized that she could now leave at any time with zero academic consequences.

Then Sofia told the students what she wanted them to do. Imogen blinked. “Wh…what?” Her word wasn’t bashful or fearful. It was sharp and flat, like someone had said something so incredibly stupid that she was checking to make sure she heard them right. “Are you mad?”

Imogen suddenly realized she was breaking character, and cleared her throat with an apologetic glance at Sofia. “Ach, forgive me for sayin’, but surely you don’t really mean it, right? Tradition or not, it’s freezin’. We’d catch our deaths of cold.” She backed away from one of the ladders the girl pointed out as if it might reach out, grab, her and hurl her into the drink. “I’m not about to…”

A raucous laugh cut her off, and when Imogen glanced upward she came to the sudden realization that some people were about to. She watched in stunned silence as Verity began to disrobe, then turned her gaze on the others. Wait a minute. Those weren’t shorts on Frankie. They were swim trunks! And in Danny’s case, not some kind of vibrant exercise wear, but a competitive swimsuit! Her eyes continued to widen, her mouth ever-so-slightly ajar. Were they really planning to throw themselves into that frigid water? Did they expect her to?

“No. Way,” she blurted out, despite her usual calm and agreeable manner. Maybe she should have inferred it from the note’s mention of a towel, looking back, but the thought of a swim in the ocean didn’t occur to her even once. Now several people were readying themselves for a dip. Even the shy girl was pulling out her towel! “You all must be off your nutters!” Imogen stared at Sofia with a mildly pleading expression, and tried to compose herself. The organizer was watching the others like a hawk, waiting for them to take the plunge with a smile that to Imogen looked rather gleeful. “I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” she confessed, attempting to negotiate. “I don’t even own one. Besides.” In a pouting manner she crossed her arms, turning up her nose at the whole superstitious premise as she looked off into the cloudy sunset. “I got where I am today without any luck at all. Just blood, sweat, and tears. Sorry to disappoint you, really I am, but I’m not gonna risk my life for a wee bit of luck now.”

Despite what sounded like a firm refusal, however, things were a little more complicated on the inside. Accepting the mantle of ‘uninteresting, unlikable, and unmemorable person’ did not mean that she ever stopped struggling with that lot in life. Even as she vocalized what she knew must be a perfectly reasonable and understandable objection, Imogen couldn’t help but wonder…was this sort of thing why nobody ever cared about her? By now she knew that she couldn’t expect anyone to come to her, that was just asking too much after all. But it was true she’d given up on going to them, too, and being a stick in the mud on the rare occasion a chance came her way probably didn’t help. The intrusive thought crossed her mind: if she did do this, maybe it would score some points with these people. It might give them something to remember about her, and even help her fit in. Would it work? Did it matter in the first place? Hard to say. But even after her refusal, Imogen did not go away. To an onlooker, it might be obvious that she, being a little too close to the edge, lacked the strength to stand by her convictions. A little push could be all that was needed to send her over.

World of Light

Probably more like they just remained outside of the fight without partaking. They could still meet up with the others afterward.

World of Light

For tonight's Detroit update, I must confess that I ran out of time, both for posting this evening and for workshopping together the next section. So I apologize that it ends without a real prompt for next time, but I will add the next part along with the rest of the main update on Sunday evening, and if you get something up in the intervening time consider it a bonus. Rest, repair, deal with spirits, offer alternatives on what to do next, whatever suits you.

World of Light

Detroit

Sector 8 Lower
Level 11 Tora (129/110) Level 12 Poppi (19/120)
Susie and Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Raiden’s @XoXKieroBombXoX, Geralt’s @Multi_Media_Man, Benedict’s @Dark Cloud
Word Count: 2215

The sudden -and not to mention dramatic appearance- of a giant, hulking monstrosity with an oversized weapon of barbarous aspect, all decked out in the classic bad-guy colors of black and red, just about sent Tora, Poppi, Giovanna, and just about everyone into panic mode. Before any of the Seekers could join the Misconducts in doing anything they might regret, however, Blazermate announced her intentions. That phrase ‘Winds of Destruction’ did ring a bell, after all; it got brought up during the introductory meeting a couple hours ago when they team discussed the machine-oriented branch of Midgar’s defense. This was not, Poppi quickly realized, someone she wanted to hastily draw her revolvers on. The Medabot would head over to court an alliance with Khamsin before all hell broke loose, while the others held down the fort.

“Roger and good luck,” Poppi called back, not taking her eyes of the massive figure of TNT Randy, so mad at this point that steam might as well be billowing from her ears. “We’ll take care of things here.”

As Blazermate zipped out to parley with Khamsin, Tora leveled the blazing purple tip of his gravity-infused Variable Saber at Randy. “Not worry though. Fight with big bullypon not take long!”

While the dynamic duo could not see the face behind the demolitionist’s mask, his almost bestial growl told them all they needed to know about his mental state. “...When I’m through with you two, they’ll have to bury what’s left of you in a matchbox!”

Randy began, predictably, with some TNT. Just as he did with Geralt and the sentry, he hurled a handful of loose sticks to cover a wide area. Even individually those things packed a punch, but after taking on the likes of the Ender Dragon and Red Eye, Tora wasn’t afraid of this big blowhard. “Meeeh!” he cried, charging straight through the deluge of bombs. Those bright, violently fizzing sparks weren’t just for show, he knew. As the Nopon, closed the distance, bounding along like a basketball down the court, the dynamite harmlessly pinged off him and fell to the ground only to blow up a mere moment later, leaving a trail of explosions in his wake. In no time at all Tora got into melee range, and he immediately went on the offensive.

Vwoosh! Vrash! His Saber’s laser blade cleft through the air to slam into Randy’s shield in a shower of violet sparks, first on one side and then the other, leaving a burnt-in groove. Like earlier Tora then went low, but this time he lashed out with Speedy Sword at his much taller foe’s ankles, faster than Randy gave him credit for. He whirled around four times in a pinwheel of pain; Randy took the first two hits, reflexively lifted his leg up and away from the third, and blocked low for the fourth. At that point, however, Tora canceled into Swooshing Slash, launching upward with an explosive backflip swing that left him upside-down in midair. In a flash the Nopon came around with a horizontal cross slash, and though he couldn’t combo Randy without a topple preceding this technique, Tora did land a headshot that seared into ear, hair, and mask strap alike.

“Aaaagh!” Randy stumbled backward, reaching up clutch his burning headwound. With his opponent wide open, Tora moved in for a thrust to the abdomen, but things didn’t quite go as planned. Randy reached past his ear to seize the giant hockey stick slung over his back, then used his greater range and strength to bring it down on Tora in a tremendous chop. He expected its axe-blade to cleave the poor Nopon in half, but it only managed to lodge in his head. As Tora yelled in pain, Randy knew his partner would be coming to save him, so he planted his foot on Tora’s head to tug the hockey stick free with a kick, then raised his shield.

Sure enough, Poppi appeared. The minute Tora rolled clear, she lit Randy up with a trio of furious revolver shots, their repulsive force aimed not at his shield, but at his legs. Their subsequent bursts were too much for him to stand, and when he fell to the ground with his shield beneath him for support, Poppi coolly buffeted his mask with a double headshot, leaving her with only two bullets left. The raw force shattered his mask into jagged shards as it bent him over. backward, slicing up the brute’s ugly face, but he didn’t stay down for long. Randy returned with a vengeance and a fistful of TNT. This time, Poppi took a page from her Masterpon’s book and stood her ground. Two shots is all I need. Even as the dynamite flew toward her she lined up her shot, activated High Noon, and let loose. When the bullet slammed into Randy and split into four, the gravitational collapse it created sucked in everything nearby, from construction debris to the ashes of fallen Misconducts to Randy’s own TNT.

It flew back toward him and exploded in a bone-rattling blast, but the villain’s inherent explosive resistance saw him through. He emerged, roaring in pain and anger, from the smoke to deck Poppi with a giant left hook from his shield, then kick her onto her back. His hockey stick descended like a guillotine, but she managed to roll out of the way and get up onto all fours. Tora springboarded off her back to slash Randy across the chest before he could attack again. He used a shield bash to fling Tora away, but that gave Poppi the chance she needed to aim and unleash her final shot. When it ruptured it pulled Tora right back toward Randy like a flying bowling ball, and the demolitionist reeled. “...Poppi!” her Masterpon moaned as he hit the ground, too dizzy to do anything but lob the Variable Saber at her.

She managed to catch it despite the terrible throw, and in a flurry of light and sparks she and Randy crossed swords again and again. Poppi gave a lot better than she got, and Randy put all his strength into one last-ditch attempt. He delivered a tremendous headbutt to stagger her just long enough to wind up a massive overhead, forcing her to block. The two locked blades, and Randy quickly began to overpower Poppi, thanks to her Superstrength being exclusive to her Alpha form. Gritting her teeth, the artificial blade held out for just a couple moments more, bent backward until her opponent was sure of victory. Then she shut off the Variable Saber’s laser blade, allowing Randy’s strength to carry him right past her and onto the ground. When he rose to his kneels and whirled around, he found the barrel of the Saber’s shotgun mode aimed at his head. Poppi couldn’t have missed even if she wanted to.

The noise of destruction nearby came right on the heels of Randy’s demise. Khamsin was tearing through the construction site, impervious to the gunfire of the Misconducts as he mowed them down with his fearsome axe, one or two at a time. At some point in the fight with the ringleader Poppi did remember hearing Blazermate say that this Wind of Destruction would help, but this monster seemed happy to do the rest of the Seekers’ work for them. Geralt had the right idea, so Tora and Poppi followed suit, hightailing it out of the soon-to-be-wrecked structure and to the fringes of the construction site. Giovanna arrived on their heels, a little more mussed and dusty than last the two saw her but not that much worse for wear.

“Lead a couple of ‘em on a merry little chase,” she told the others drily, dusting off her hands. “You’d figure that if someone decided to stand up to people with guns empty-handed, they’d probably have a good reason, but these guys seemed dead-set on underestimating me. Oh well.” Susie quickly joined them too, and together the team watched the brief but brutal show as Khamsin made mincemeat of the Misconducts. Giovanna nodded at Geralt. “...Yeah, no kidding.” After a few more moments the solider’s mech -or perhaps the soldier himself?- squashed the last worm wriggling around in the pile with a giant swing of his hammer. In so doing he also took out one of the last load-bearing supports that remained, sending an entire section of the building-in-progress tumbling down. Only a couple sorry souls spared by the death sentence of Galeem’s influence managed to escape, while a shallow and graceless tomb fell upon the ashes of their comrades. Giovanna sighed, both at the situation and having to pat her expensive clothes clean a second time. Those gangsters had come upon some really rotten luck.

Near the wreckage and rubble, Khamsin eased open his war machine’s cockpit. “Whoo-wie!” he hollered as the dust settled on his face, wearing an ugly, gleeful grin. “Another victory for DespoRHado! Freedom reigns!” He glanced up at Blazermate. “Not bad for a tin can, huh? They oughta make more like you. Those crits make one hell of a difference, haha!”

With the battle over, Manananggal and Loup-Garou approached. “Y’know buster, I’m glad you came to help us and all, but…” The female demon looked over the wanton destruction with undisguised disgust on her face and in her voice. “What are you, some kind of ape? You did their job for them!”

“Shut your trap!” Khamsin snarled, his mood turned instantly from elation to outrage. “They’re dead, aren’t they? And you oughta know, I didn’t come for you. I came for freedom! Freedom from the yoke of oppression!” He hefted his axe. “That’ something you Shinra dogs won’t ever UNDERSTAND!”

The colossal weapon smashed down on Manananggal. She tried to resist, but physical strength was not her forte, and after only a moment she was mulch. Loup-Garou backed away with his teeth bared, his hackles on end, but he did not attack. He fixed his cold gaze on Khamsin as the man brought his axe up onto his shoulder, chuckling to himself. “That’s not going to go well with Public Security,” he growled.

“Like I give a damn! What’re you gonna do, fire me?” Khamsin spat back. “They’ll just shit out more of you Shadows anyhow. The Administration’s days are numbered, just you wait. When Armstrong gets elected he’s gonna show you all what freedom really looks like!” His mechs hand gave a shooing gesture. “Now git, before I teach you to play dead!”

Loup-Garou left in a hurry, shifting back into Investigation mode as he did. Khamsin turned to leave, like a force of nature that had just indifferently blown through town.

Tora watched the exchange from afar, rubbing his head. While Blazermate’s healing fixed the divet in his dome, what he just witnessed opened up a whole new can of worms it hurt to consider. “Meh-meh? Tora thought different branches of Midgar defense supposed to be allies.”

“They are. Nominally.” Giovanna leaned against the railing of the construction yard, crossing her arms. “But even in the same organization, people don’t always see eye to eye. In Midgar, there’s about a billion different interests and agendas, with everyone looking out for their own. Politics are especially divisive, now more than ever with the election. I guess even the Ever Crisis isn’t a big enough threat to make everyone get along.” She shrugged.

The Nopon gave a noncommittal grunt as he looked over Poppi, taking stock of her damage. “Tora not know much about politics. Not care either. What we do now?”

Giovanna looked around. Everyone was at least a little banged up and tired from the afternoon’s vigorous activities so far. Benedict and Raiden had been, for lack of a better term, underperforming. An old fart staying away from the dangerous frontlines she could understand, but for that high-tech cyborg to gleefully slaughter small fry and then not even contribute to this battle rubbed her the wrong way. Although, considering how Raiden felt about DespoRHado, maybe that was a good thing.

She gazed off into the middle distance, her eyebrows knit together. “Uhh…not sure, really. I’ve kind of had enough fighting gangs for one day. Isn’t it…I don’t know, kind of depressing?” She ran a hand all the way through her hair, realized her braid had come undone during the fighting, and started fixing it with practices hands. “As for what to do next, I’m not sure. We could shop around for a red matter detector, but it seems like the tech down here is mostly robotics and augmentation.”

She looked at Poppi, who’d raised her hand. “This might sound like a strange idea, but why don’t we follow Khamsin? Assuming he responded to the distress beacon because he was out on patrol, and that his machine needs energy like any other, he’s probably heading back to base. We could at least get a look at DespORhado HQ before we go.”

Giovanna got off the fence. “Sure, might as well. Never seen it with my own eyes myself, and the Bunker’s supposed to be a pretty big deal. Everyone good to go?” The communal answer seemed to be ‘ready as I’ll ever be’. “Then let’s hurry before we lose him.”

Results

Party: Tora, Poppi, Blazermate, Geralt, Susie
Encounter Reward: 11 EXP

World of Light

Suoh

Sector 3 Upper
Level 2 Goldlewis (20/20)
Goldlewis, Peach, Raz’s @Truthhurts22, Roxas’ @Double, Sakura and Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Pit’s @Yankee
Word Count: 2591

Rather than walk all the way back through the city, Goldlewis returned to his nearby hummer and drove back to Anistar with Midna riding shotgun, arriving at the gym a tiny bit older and not a whole lot wiser than they were when they left. In their absence the others had been exploring and making use of the gym itself, either conventionally or as a source of information. Apparently Sakura got herself into a sparring match with a senior Psych-OSF member of the premises, and while it seemed to go well at first, it ended on a surprise sour note as the street fighter’s trauma from the depths of the nightmarish Maw returned to haunt her. At that point she went from ‘working out’ to ‘working out her mental issues’ with the help of Raz, who unveiled a special ability he’d been sitting on for a while now to literally dive into and get straight to the heart of the matter.

In the meantime, Peach and Pit had been exploring the lower levels of the gym. Down there they found nothing too unusual, just more civilians and off-duty Scarlet Guardians training themselves through a variety of means. One of the more interesting methods they spotted was one telekinesis-user doing his best to hold up a number of padded blocks in the air, while two sisters engaged in a psychic shootout on the suspended battlefield. There were more normal classes on offer as well, including a ‘Boxercise’ routine run by one Disco Kid. With the tagline ‘punch with the best of them!’ it offered a workout that required no psychic ability. In the spirit of fitting in Peach decided to give it a try, though her choice of office clothes rather than gym wear got her a couple funny looks. Disco Kid was all about it, though, and with his winning smile plus can-do attitude he got the whole class grooving in a high-energy dance of jabs, hooks, and uppercuts. Her love of sports still intact, Peach had a great time, and afterward she got in a quick word with Disco himself. Once she explained her goal of training in order to volunteer for Psych-OSF, Disco supplied her with the requirements for joining. It was less stringent than she thought; applicants didn’t even need to have a home. As long as any would-be cadets possessed sufficient medical, moral, and physical fitness, basic education, 10-30 years of age, and psychic sensitivity, it sounded like just about anyone could join up. The princess thanked her boxercise instructor and returned to the group.

After a brief meeting during which Goldlewis and Midna shared what little they’d learned about the politics and pest control of Suoh, everyone went their separate ways again, resolved to meet back at Musubi’s by no later than six forty-five in the evening. Midna went to find Bede to warn him about the eventual fate of any and all psychic Pokemon in Midgar, but with no sign of the young man her search quickly turned into a wild goose chase through the streets of Suoh. Goldlewis, meanwhile, uncovered a promising lead via the public Psynet terminal in Anistar Gym. As it turned out, a relatively easy and official way to descend beneath the Sector 5 Plate to Seiran did exist: a public freight elevator not too far from the center of the sparkling red metropolis. Planning to see it with his own eyes, and use it if possible, he extended an invitation to any of the Seekers who might want to join him. Then he and whoever accepted loaded back up into his hummer, the veteran’s giant coffin tucked securely into the trunk, and they took to the city streets once more.

Thanks to the miracle of motorized transport, the hummer came to rest in the public parking lot of a grand structure called the Praetorium. Practically a fortress in terms of appearance, this was the transport hub that housed the freight elevator Goldlewis sought, and it positively bustled with activity. Even finding a parking spot was pretty difficult, especially given his ride’s sheer, audacious size, and things only got livelier from there. Coffin slung over his shoulder, he joined the steady stream of people headed inside the building, careful to observe everything he could about the place. From what he could tell, this facility handled both human traffic and cargo shipments between Suoh and Seiran, sending goods between plate and undercity in massive quantities. He could not see the timetables projected as Visions around the building, but they revealed an ironclad schedule: ten minutes to load and unload at one terminus, then ten minutes of travel between them, rinse and repeat over and over again like clockwork. In other words, the second the elevator got sealed and began its trip, it would be thirty minutes on the dot before it returned. The lift happened to be gone when Goldlewis arrived, so he joined the line to wait for the next one, ignorant of how long it might be thanks to his inability to see the psychic displays. Just under ten minutes later though, the elevator arrived, and the great exchange began.

The platform itself was pretty huge at hundreds of feet in diameter. Once it came to a stop and the gates opened, passengers flooded off it, and large machines went to work unloading the freight from Seiran in order to stack high the containers from Suoh in their place. It reminded Goldlewis of a cargo ship bay and a subway blended into one. As he boarded, his eyes on the giant cranes, he briefly wondered why a psychic city would rely on technology instead of, say, telekinesis to move such loads around. Then again, using mechanical precision cut out the possibility of human error, and maybe they needed to conserve their psionics’ abilities for combat, anyway. Once the passengers loaded up, either standing, using benches that rose up from the elevator’s surface, or just sitting on the floor, the elevator began its diagonal trek through the plate itself via a huge inclined tunnel, rolling on immense metal wheels.

When he arrived in Seiran, Goldlewis quickly learned just how stark the differences between it and Suoh were. While the Plate resembled an ordinary metropolis, at least for the most part, the undercity featured a much more unusual layout. It was composed entirely of skyscrapers of various heights, rising hundreds of stories into the air like a primeval forest, interconnected by countless bridges, cables, and metal rails–a real concrete jungle. Many of the skyscrapers, but not all, extended all the way up to the plate. One such building housed the bottom end of the Praetorium elevator, and after disembarking Goldlewis made his way to the nearest edge. After looking down and managing to not lose his lunch, he could see that there was no ‘ground level’ to this city. Instead the skyscrapers rose straight from the reservoir itself. The water didn’t look inviting in the least, with vast, scummy algal blooms turning the water green and even red, as well as embankments of trash instead of sand around the bases of the buildings. Blue and pink bioluminescence could be glimpsed even from this height, calling to mind the Psifish that one member of Psych-OSF’s Containment Division mentioned, but those pulsing lights were weak and febrile. Goldlewis did not envy anything living in that water, if ‘living’ it could even be termed.

The veteran snooped around Seiran for a couple hours, on the hunt for anything that might be useful for the Seekers. Though the glittering lights and stainless steel of Suoh weren’t so far away considering the freight elevator, the property values plummeted here, dropping lower and lower the farther down one went on the skyscrapers. Even getting around was tricky, with a variety of ingenious (or slapdash) methods to navigate the towers in evidence. While the higher areas featured an almost maritime charm to them, the lower areas tended more toward degradation and squalor, undesirable even for the city’s poor. Nothing wholesome could be fished from those waters, after all. Only the most abject wretches, laid low by illness or other malady, dwelled in the shanties near the water. Goldlewis heard that the denizens down there weren’t even people, for the most part; rumors spoke instead of fishmen and other demihuman monstrosities. He stuck to the upper levels, with their seafood markets supplied by high-level indoor aquaculture, ignorant of the Visions of aquatic creatures that swam through the air in an almost pitiable attempt to preserve the original atmosphere of what had once been a genuine seaside city.

After some searching, Goldlewis finally found it: a former clinic not too far from the freight elevator, for sale at a pretty cheap price. At some point after its initial dereliction, it had been occupied by a detachment of shady individuals purported to be operatives of some tech gang or another, but recently it had been discovered that they abandoned the place once more, so it was back on the market. Lingering fear of the gang members returning drove away potential buyers, though, which explained the cheap price. When Goldlewis arrived the demihuman landlord gave him a tour in person. The clinic turned out to be a strange blend of futuristic and medieval, with one half tinted yellow by the light that streamed through its glass windows onto wooden furniture and metal cookware, while the other was a jumble of discarded tech awash in electric blue light.

“Well?” Moneybags asked, reaching out his paw. “Not my most splendid property, I’ll admit, but it’s functional, pest-free, conveniently located, off the grid, and yours for a very modest price. What do you say?”

---

Goldlewis put his hummer in park, removed the key, and rolled down his window. The Seekers gathered around his vehicle. Aside from Bede, who the veteran hoped Midna managed to find and warn, everyone seemed to be here, and right on time. After an afternoon spent galavanting around Suoh, and in some cases Seiran too, the Seekers had reunited right back where they started: in the parking lot of Musubi’s. The shadows had grown long, and the sky tinted orange as the sun was beginning to set over the Suoh skyline. Seven o’ clock was right around the corner, but before the team went to dinner, Goldlewis had something to say. “Pile in for a spell,” he told the group, reaching his arm out of the window to pat the exterior of his car door. “I want a quick word before we head in.”

Once everyone got in, he put his window up again, and turned in his seat to address the group. “Sorry it ain’t exactly comfortable in here, but I appreciate y’all for hearin’ me out,” he told them, though for anyone less than seven feet tall and five hundred sixty-six pounds his hulking hummer’s interior was actually pretty roomy. “In here’s the only place we’re really safe from them listenin’ cameras. Now, this won’t be a minute, but I figured I’d sum up real quick before we get started. The little fella we’re meetin’ is Luka Travers. Regardless of anyone’s misgivin’s, we don’t wanna antagonize him, so play. It. Cool. He also ain’t as young as he looks, so don’t treat him like a kid. He’s the little brother of Septentrion First Class Ka-ren Travers, who just might be the biggest fish in the whole doggone OSF. We’re tryin’ to do two things.” He held up one finger. “One. We wanna learn more about Psych-OSF. Relations between the big players, current events, anythin’ we can without pryin’ too hard. Don’t grill the li’l guy or nothin’, just bring it up in conversation, all casual-like.”

He held up a second finger. “Two. We wanna get a couple o’ ours into the OSF. We can lean on Raz and his connections, hopefully get y’all fast-tracked through basic and into the fold. Luka can teleport, so maybe we could convince him to take ya along with him back to base to get started. Havin’ him along to vouch for ya’s gotta be worth somethin’, too.” He furrowed his brow. “That means it’s time…”

“Time for us to fuse,” Peach finished, nodding. “Me and whoever else wanted to volunteer. Was it you who did, Sakura?” She glanced at the street fighter.

Goldlewis pursed his lips. “I know it might seem…odd, but doin’ it right here might be your best bet. I got tinted windows that’ll block out the light some, and y’all used a bathroom or something anywhere else, chances are there’d be a camera watchin’ ya go in and out.”

“Okay,” the princess replied, determination in her voice. “Let’s do it.” After rummaging around in her pockets, she produced the two OSF spirits. She passed the other one to the other volunteer, then held hers in front of her heart. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself with a deep breath, then shoved the spirit into her chest.

For Peach

Spirit absorbed:
Kaede Thompson
The host had gotten shorter and more slender. Her skin is slightly tanned due to the lingering effect of Mr. Grimm, but her ethnicity is now predominantly white/Asian. Her hair is still tricolor, but the red-blonde-white is now a more muted auburn-caramel-cream, as if filtered through light brown. She has two round buns and long sidelocks in front of her ears. Her eyes are an interesting gradient, blue in the right and red in the left but both turning to amber and then to dark brown going upward. Her outfit is a slightly more techy suit and tie, with a red instead of white shirt, light armor pads, and a few orange wires wound around. Her personality is a bit more cheerful and carefree, not too far from her original mindset. This spirit confers the Power Materialization, which allows the host to create objects by psychically condensing stray particles into crystalline matter, which can be perceived even by those without sensitivity. This also imparts psychic sensitivity. This spirit also confers the Weakness Harsh Reality. Others can now sense her presence from a distance and will hunt her down for her brain. She can now be Brain Crushed and is susceptible to PR.

When the light died down, Peach sat in her seat, a changed woman. Considering how she looked before as a result of her fusions with Mr. Grimm and Chao Ho, she looked rather more normal now, but only the faintest trace of the original princess remained in her features. She checked herself in the passenger-side mirror, running a hand along her cheek. While she couldn’t say she looked bad or anything, she didn’t even recognize herself. And yet the effect of fusion dampened any dysmorphia she might be experiencing, so she couldn’t even say this felt wrong. The person staring back at her from the mirror wasn’t Princess Peach. But it was her. She inhaled through her nose, breathed out her mouth, and smiled.

Goldlewis had been watching her intently, intrigued by the whole process. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Peach replied, a little surprised by the sound of her own voice. It was higher than before, almost cute. “I feel pretty good, in fact! It’s almost like…a weight was lifted off my shoulders.”

“Good, ‘cause I think Luka just appeared right in front of the restaurant,” Goldlewis said, pointing through the windshield. “Let’s get movin’.”

The Seekers piled out of the car and into Musubi’s. On the way Peach nearly stumbled and fell, overwhelmed by the change of scenery. All of a sudden, Suoh had come alive with the light and motion of a million Visions, aglow and alive with psychic energy. Goldlewis, who had gone ahead to hold the door open for everyone else, didn’t reach her in time, so one of her other allies helped her along instead. The team managed to make it in one piece to the table where Luka Travers had seated himself, just as the waitress finished setting it for nine.

“Good evening,” the boy said, smiling. “It’s good to see you again, and in better circumstances.” He shook the hands of Goldlewis and anyone else who wanted, pausing only a brief moment as he tilted his head at Peach. Then he unzipped his bag and pulled out a handful of eight papers sealed in plastic. “Here,” he said, passing them around. They were paper menus, with all sorts of rice, ramen, and sushi dishes listed out on them. “I only realized after we made plans that Musubi’s uses Vision menus, so on the off-chance that they might come in handy I procured these.” He smiled again and clasped his hands together. “This is the ‘Place Where People Meet’, after all. You can never be too sure who you’ll find.”

The Ruins - Dripstone Cave

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

Some quick thinking and teamwork allowed the Koopa Troop to cash in on the opportunity presented by the fleeing Huuli Hoarder. Once sedated and retrieved, it could be finished off with ease to render up a whole bunch of minerals, including nuggets of deep green Jadiz, mustard-yellow Bismor, and best of all, gold.

Junior then opted to take the initiative with a small pack of Migospel lurking nearby. The garishly-patterned bugs took note when he yelled out, drawing their attention to the entrance of the cave where the young prince and his friends were still getting their bearings. Such a large group of newcomers gave them pause, but once they realized that Junior might be a kindred spirit in terms of clowning around, they tentatively drew nearer. All of them made sure to use their best silly walks, or at least most of them did. One of the bunch lagged behind a little, its manner languid and bleary as if dispirited, sick, or perhaps just very tired. Junior would need to meet the bunch halfway, but when he did so he found the overlarge insects decently amicable. However, their comprehension of his questions left a lot to be desired.

“Send in the clowns!” one squealed, beginning to mime.

Another one honked its nose insistently, adding some extra sound effects to the mix. “Honk! Hooonk!”

“I love to laugh!” Another declared, juggling balls of ants. “Ha ha hee hee ho ho huu huu!”

The only one who didn’t join in the tomfoolery was the laggard one Junior spotted before. Its giggles were tremulous, and its attempts to juggle fell flat. It was as if the poor Migospel was half asleep. If Junior looked more closely, however, he would see something odd. Its eyes weren’t white like the others, but seemingly hollow, and within them shone a faint but unmistakable orange glow that flickered like firelight.

Meanwhile, Primrose retraced her steps a short ways. Mindful of both getting lost and marking a path for any allies to follow should they happen to come this way, she set about using a weapon gleaned from the fracas back in the Convent of Our Lady of the Charred Visage to create an inscription in the stone. Doing so brought her close to the spot where the tunnel branched between the Dripstone Cave and the alternative, more cluttered route. When she turned to rejoin her friends, she caught a glimpse of something in the corner of her eye, a shadowy figure moving through the soft purplish light down the other path. Mists far less ominous than those of the Webwood clung and curled gently around the outcroppings of stone and discarded masks in that direction, and through them the dancer could see a lone figure whose oil-black body seemed to be adorned with a necklace of skulls and a helmet curled like a snail's shell. For a moment the stranger just stared back at her, making no attempt to hide himself, his shining white eyes curious. Then he waved as if to say hello in a manner very suggestive of sentience, and turned to tread a little deeper into the Ancestral Mound.

Naturally, Bowser and Kamek took some time to look around themselves. While most of the area seemed nice enough, dripstone caves like this owed their unique formations to calcium salts deposited by dripping water, and all the water found in this place turned out to be abominably stagnant. About a fourth of the cavern was occupied by a pool of extremely green, viscous liquid, pungent and foul. No Goams could be found in their vicinity; for all their invincibility they avoided that execrable liquid like the plague. The lily pads and reeds that grew in and around it were tough and brown, and around the poisonous pools lurked giant mosquitoes, a lot less mobile but a lot more dangerous than their minuscule counterparts.

The Koopas might have been content to leave the enormous pests to their rot if not for a certain discovery they made not too far from the muck. From his vantage point in the air the wizard happened to spot a diminutive creature nestled in the brush. He was a fuzzy little guy, with cream-colored fur and a head as big or bigger than his body, decked out the green pith helmet, gloves, and boots that befitted an explorer. At the moment the Yordle seemed to be completely unconscious, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. Next to him lay a piece of half-eaten shelf mushroom of the variety known as Naiti-Nait, overconsumption of which had knocked the unlucky lad right out. Anywhere else he might have been able to recover on his own given time, but In the vicinity of the squalid swamp, time was a luxury he didn’t have. The mosquitoes were already homing in on his position, all too eager to pierce the tiny, adorable explorer with their swordlike proboscises and drain him of his precious fluids.

The Under - Mom’s Chamber

Level 10 Nadia (95/100)
Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Jesse’s @Zoey Boey, Omori’s @Majoras End, Ganondorf’s @Double
Word Count: 2273

The arrival of the Templar Impaler presented a fresh and ferocious new threat for the Seekers to contend with as they vied to finish Mom off, but to say that Ganondorf rose to the occasion would be an understatement. Spurred on by his pride and anger, he called upon his dark sorcery to transfigure himself into a towering boarlike monster, less eldritch and yet more fearsome than the cultists arrayed before him. As Nadia looked on, suddenly in no hurry to get any closer to the fight than she absolutely needed to, the slavering beast let out a hideous bellow and charged into the fray.

With greatswords bigger than most men he went after the gouty pillar of flesh wherever it descended, hacking into it with reckless, hateful abandon. The cultists that remained following Therion’s deft execution of the priest took aim at the monstrous new threat, gouging his body and mind alike with deadly spurs of bone and madness, but Ganon’s rage would not be sated until the amorphous mass responsible for his injuries lay dead at his feet. Omori and the Knight had been going after Mom previously, but after the already-wounded boy mistimed a dodge and ate another stomp, the Knight was forced to carry him out of danger, which left the way wide open for Ganon. Everyone else could more or less sit back and watch as their terrifying ally sundered chunk after chunk from Mom’s leg, especially after a friendly fire incident involving Junicorn when Therion went to head off the Impaler, which naturally carried over to the thief himself. Soon, the butchery took its toll, and Mom was on her last legs.

That said, ignoring the cultists -or just blindly going to town on them, for that matter- wasn’t without its consequences. The Rapturous Cultists that spawned managed to heal Mom twice before Spacial Rend demolished it. Both Ganon and Sectonia suffered from heightened stress, and though the former managed to stave off further insanity through the landing of critical hits, the mind of the latter went past its boiling point. The madness within bubbled over, rendering Sectonia Abusive not long after she unleashed her withering rupture in space-time. That said, her first shout sounded more like encouragement to derision as far as Nadia was concerned–not that Ganon needed it. After blasting away the Impaler with his laser one final time, the beast took aim at the bone he’d exposed in the leg with his continuous slices, and with a tremendous final slash severed the leg.

”ISAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAC!” the horror wailed as the room began to crack around the Seekers, blood pouring from the walls and ceiling to pool on the floor. The last cultist standing, the horrific Templar Impaler, thrashed and died along with its creator, soon reduced to nothing more than a ashen smear and Notable Spirit on the floor. After another moment the rumbling came to a stop, and in the brief silence that followed three things happened at once. First, a reward appeared on a pedestal, taking the form of a bright red high-heeled shoe just like the one that had been smashing the Seekers moments ago, albeit of normal shoe size. Second, a hole opened up in the center of the floor, and unlike the trapdoors in previous boss rooms, this one was circular, shiny, and flesh-colored, which pleased Nadia very, very little. Third, two doors opened on the far wall at the exact same time, emerging from crumbling rubble: a black door adorned by a goat head, and a white door crowned by a radiant cross. Within the first was the unsettling pitch-black visage of a devil, and within the second stood the image of an eerie, faceless angel, but both offered the same reward: a strange trophy with a capsule of prismatic light obscuring a shadowy figure within.

As Ganondorf turned back to normal, Nadia let out her pent-up breath. “Whoa,” she breathed. “That…really sucked!” The feral switched off her Night Light, then crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I mean, that boss was really one-note! Her minions were way more dangerous, not to mention scary. What kind of big bad relies on goons to fight for ‘em, anyway? More like min-yawn, jeez.” She jogged over to where the Knight had laid Omori, skirting around the high-heeled shoe in case her tail accidentally brushed it as she passed by. “Man, you got it rough, kid,” she said, crouching over him. “You sure you’re up for this? Here, lemme help. Uh, freakshow, heal him!”

Her new striker appeared and used Flesh to Flesh, repairing Omori’s wounds through unholy rite. Nadia’s own scratches, bruises, and scrapes were buffing out as well thanks to her regeneration. As the striker disappeared she treated him to a cheery smile, patting him on the head. “There! Good as mew, right?”

Nadia’s gaze then landed on the Knight. “Thanks for looking out for him, little guy! You really know your stuff when it comes to fightin’!” She sent her two brain cells into overdrive trying to think of a suitably bug-related pun, but whether due to the lingering stress from the fight or the fatigue she’d built up from fighting so far, the poor feral couldn’t think of a darned thing. Rats. I’ll get ‘em to laugh next time. If anyone else needed healing it would be another minute or two before she could use the Cultist again, at least by her estimation, but Ganondorf probably didn’t need her help anyway.

The feral stood, stretching out her limbs, and went to regroup with the others. Naturally everyone noticed the appearance of both devil and angel rooms, as well as the fact that their offerings not only seemed to lack any sort of price, but also didn’t fit this place’s blood-and-guts aesthetic at all. “Probably something different,” Nadia mentioned, pulling out the Bait Launcher both to show it off and reload it. “Like this thing. Didn’t embed itself in my skin or anythin’, just a normal gun. Other than, y’know, the fact it summons tigers. I sure ain’t hidin’ my stripes anymore after seein’ that!”

While the others decided what to do with the assist trophies and boss reward, which Nadia dismissed outright based on the hypothesis that it would mutate her feet into living heels, the feral pulled out and consulted her map. Despite her own injuries and nearly getting torn in half twice over, her hoodie and its contents seemed to be in pretty good condition. Still, that jacket would need some serious laundering. After a quick look at the map, her perked-up ears fell flat again, and her doleful eyes fell on the oversized orifice in the floor.

With a sigh she rolled up and stuffed the sheet of parchment into her pocket. “Guys? Accordin’ to the map, there’s one more floor. Much as it pains me to say, we probably ain’t done just yet.”

As much as she would have liked to take it easy, it looked like Nadia needed to steel herself for one last run before the Seekers could escape this damnable place. She spotted her anchors and went to collect them. Even if their chains had been severed and she could no longer swing them from a distance, they could still be of use. In fact, it might be better like this. Up close and personal was just how Nadia fought; it just didn’t make sense to try and be something she wasn’t. Of course, the Bait Launcher was a different matter. It more or less amounted to calling an assist, and useful assists like that made her style of non-stop close-quarters pressure even more unstoppable.

In the end, there wasn’t a whole lot to do aside from heal up, loosen up, and tune up any faulty equipment. The Seekers then gathered in a ring around the hole in the ground, their misgivings written plain on their faces. With all eyes on her to take the plunge again, Nadia took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll be countin’ on you guys to bail meowt, ya hear? And if this leads straight into a giant stomach or somethin’, well, I’ll at least die knowin’ I was the best cat food that ever lived.” She flipped her anchors into a reverse grip, saluted with two fingers, and jumped. “Cannonbaaaaall!”

On the way down, she drifted toward the chute’s wall and jammed both anchors into the slick pink flesh. They slid right in, catching enough to slow Nadia’s descent, just as she planned, although even with both embedded almost to the hilt her weight was enough to continue dragging her downward at a brisk pace. The pit seemed to grow wider the farther she went down, not to mention darker and more humid, but a glance down confirmed a source of light. After another few seconds she dug her toeclaws into the meaty surface to bring herself fully to a stop right at the bottom of the chute, where it seemingly opened up into a big, bright cavern, at least twice as large as the decrepit chamber where her crew slaughtered Mom. Beneath her was a solid purplish floor of appreciable size, and she could see a couple things that looked like items. “I’m okay! I think it’s safe!” Nadia shouted up the tube, her voice echoing up to the others. She swiveled her head back around to glance down at the chamber. “There’s a little fall, so be careful. And get ready for a fight!”

Nadia dropped down the rest of the way, slowing her descent with jets of blood just enough to land with her typical catlike agility. The chute lay a good hundred feet above her, but she figured if she could climb up if need be, although she didn’t relish the thought, or anything else in this place for that matter. This new room seemed to be rather hideously organic, with moist, spongy flesh the color of gums stretching like meaty tree trunks through the air and along the walls, everything irregular and glistening. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. “Ugh, its soft!” she whined, hopping from one bare foot to the other on the surface of the big, roughly diamond-shaped floor. “And WARM! Yuck!” Nadia was quickly beginning to regret her decision. Goosebumps formed all across for skin, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. All of a sudden, it felt kind of like she was in something’s stomach after all. Like she’d been eaten. In the distance she could hear the low, deep, repetitive sound of a gargantuan heartbeat. “Can we just murder the ever-lovin’ fuck outta some big monster already and get the hell outta here?”

On the four corners of the raised area were four more items, seemingly there for the taking. Free Lemonade, a pitcher of lemonade with no strings attached that could either be drunk or scattered around to damage enemies, which could be stashed when not in use and after four minutes would refill itself. Leo, which would increase the taker’s size by thirty percent and give them stomps strong enough to shatter stone, along with a luxurious mane of wild hair. Ghost Pepper, which after bringing the eater to tears from the spiciness would give the power of fire breath. Ceremonial Robes, which when worn would increase the wearer’s damage and confer instant retaliatory damage for the next three hits taken.

“Hey, is that lemonade?” Nadia jogged over, trying to forget about the squidgy floor. She stooped over the pitcher, sniffing it. “I’m pretty sure it is! Real question is, what horrible thing is it gonna do to me…” A brilliant idea struck her. She created a copycat which, not being a striker, wouldn’t transfer any damage or other effects to her, and bade her doppelganger take the lemonade in her place. The clone seized the pitcher by the handler. Nothing happened. She poured some out on her head, and still nothing happened. Tentatively, the copycat passed it to the original, and still nothing unusual transpired. After absorbing the copycat, Nadia drank some, and found it pleasantly sweet and tangy. “Huh. Purr-etty sure it’s literally just lemonade. Guess I was just bein’ a sourpuss, eh?”

Only once all four items were taken did the boss rush begin. Seven bosses emerged, one for each of the challengers: Blastocyst, Scolex, the Bloat, Mr. Fred, Triachnid, Lokii, and Teratoma. It was up to the Seekers to pick their targets and get to work.

“Holy shit!” Nadia practically screeched, her impulses getting the better of her again. As Scolex erupted from the flesh wall and leaped for her, Nadia barely dodged in time, then hurled the pitcher of lemonade at the monstrous worm. To her surprise the liquid seemed to burn it, eliciting a bloodcurdling squeal as it dug back into the meat. “...Okay, I see its game. I’ll handle the scare-asite!”

Edinburgh MagicaPolis - Noumenon

Level 8 Big Band (43/80)
Ace Cadet’s @Yankee, Frisk’s @Majoras End, Red’s @TruthHurts22
Word Count: 1077

On the way up the interminable stairs, crammed with the others inside a scarlet, hand-shaped construct and paraded by red through the Noumenon like a waiter with his silver serving tray, Big Band got a lot of time to think. At this point it went without saying, especially since his allies might not yet be on the same page with him about the best and only course of action here, that the situation with the Skullgirl was very, very bad.

According to Frisk’s account of when and how her trio arrived in Edinburgh, it had been days since the Skullgirl’s last sighting. The fact that skeletons roamed the streets of the winter city at night was a testimony to the new Skullgirl’s power, but their aimlessness suggested a lack of control. Maybe she had yet to come to grips with her new abilities, which meant that Band -and anyone he convinced- might have a chance of finding her and putting an end to this imminent disaster before she could become a real problem. Maybe a semblance of her original heroic self still remained, and she was trying to keep herself from going on a berserk rampage. He liked that second possibility even less, not just because the undead presence in Edinburgh suggested that she was failing, but also because it would be all the more tragic when the time came to put her down. For that eventuality there was no alternative. Becoming a Skullgirl was a degenerative disease, with no heart in the universe too pure to fall to its corruption, and destruction was the only cure. The only difference would be whether he could stop her before she began freeing the skeletons of the populace by the hundreds of thousands, or after.

Eventually, Red managed to reach the twenty-sixth floor, weary and winded by the arduous descent. He let the others down, giving Band, Lucia, Ace, and Frisk a chance to stretch their legs while he rested his own. “Thanks for the lift, Red,” Band told him. “Sit yourself down and have a breather. We’ll take it from here.”

He held up his bookmark and repeated the same name he fed it earlier. It lit up in search of Albedo, and after a moment churned out some less-than-ideal news. “Twenty-seven?” Lucia read, her brows raised. “Of frickin’ coahse. Looks like ouah guy went up anothah floah while we wah makin’ ouah way up.”

“Just one floor,” Band said evenly, shrugging. “Would be a shame if Red did all the work, after all.” He nodded in the superhero’s direction. “You take it easy, we’ll see ya in a minute. C’mon, y’all.”

The detective led the way across the Noumenon’s twenty-sixth floor. Looking over the railing turned out to be a mistake; even for someone not especially afraid of heights, Band couldn’t help but feel a little queasy when he glanced down the precipitous three-hundred-and-sixty-plus-foot drop. And yet, the distance his team had already climbed suddenly seemed like little more than a drop in the ocean when he looked upward, revealing dozens upon dozens of stories yet to go. “Must be a hundred damn floors, at least,” he murmured, amazed. Hopefully this friend of Frisk’s found what he’d been looking for on the twenty-seventh and felt no need to ascend further.

Band’s inner monologue came to an abrupt end as a shadow fell across the Noumenon’s interior, cast from the west-facing side. The next instant something big blitzed past the windows at such intense speeds that the entire row of windows shattered with explosive force, letting in the chilly high-altitude arctic air. In its wake came a sonic boom that just about knocked Lucia off her feet, although Band reached out in time with a mechanical arm to steady her. Mages, scholars, and other library visitors in the area let out a chorus of screams and yells, either readying themselves for combat or taking flight, in some cases literally. The detective groaned. “Ugh. If I had to guess, our nice little field trip just came to an end. Let’s hustle, folks!”

The team sprinted through the latter half of the grand library’s twenty-sixth floor and practically flew up the stairs to the next, harried by civilians fleeing the opposite way. Upon reaching the twenty-seventh floor landing, Band spotted someone who fit the description Frisk gave them: a young man probably in his early twenties, with fluffy blonde hair, in an elaborate and almost nonsensical outfit that included a short-sleeved hooded coat, thighboots, and shorts over leggings. With a fancy sword in hand he’d taken up a position in the very center of the the floor on top of a central table laden with books, beneath which a couple of scared children had taken cover. “Albedo!” Band called, sliding over. The alchemist glanced his way, noticing both Frisk and the lack of Galeem’s light in the detective’s eyes. “I don’t know what in the hell’s goin’ on, but it looks like we’ll be facin’ it together.”

“Understood,” Albedo replied. An explosion from up above got his attention, and as the group turned to face the disturbance, the perpetrator appeared.

The new monster floated in midair without flapping its six wings, descending as if a seraphim from heaven, though its visage was anything but holy. Whatever it was appeared to be a sleek, if freakish fusion of angel and demon, fish and bird, with wings lined by glowing eyes and a half-head crowned by clasped fingers, its upper half a vague mockery of the female form. With a high-pitched cry like a note from an angelic choir, it spread its wings and unleashed a flurry of pink projectiles.

“Hmph!” From beneath his coat Band deployed two massive mechanical arms, their brazen digits clasped into fists big enough to crush melons barehanded. He blocked the lasers that came his way and deployed his bagpipes as well, loading himself up with armor. “Got some pipes on ya, huh?” he grunted, slamming his fists together. “But that voice could use some work. Gimme two minutes and I’ll have ya singin’ a different tune!”

In a flash, Artemis zoomed from one side of the floor to another, sending books and inkwells flying from the pressure. It came to an instant stop, already turned around, and its luminescent rays blazed forth.

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

It's been over three weeks without a word from the GM, so I'm not too hopeful, but I'm sure all of us would be happy if it did manage to get started.