Member
DracoLunaris
AlmostEternity
BunniesOfDoom
TokyoPewPew
Drifting Pollen
Massasauga
Dragonydas
Morgannis
Xaltwind
CitrusArmsMidgar - Zone 09
Level 5 Goldlewis (115/50) Level 4 Sandalphon (27/40)
Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Blazermate, Roland, and Susie’s @Archmage MC, Geralt and Zenkichi’s @Multi_Media_Man
Word Count: 618 / 3038
Though more expansive and developed than Sandalphon first expected, the rooftops of Sector V weren’t large enough that the archangel had a hard time finding the young girl’s lost dog. She discovered him in a pile of dirt and refuse that had gathered in a corner on one of the lower slopes, a little close to some coils of barbed wire for comfort but in no immediate danger. He was an agreeable-looking fellow, medium-large, with short caramel-colored fur and dark patches around his muzzle and rose ears, which bounced around in a delightful manner as he sniffed around in the pile. For a brief moment, Sandalphon’s pupils turned from power symbols into bright green hearts. Capturing him, however, proved to be far more of a challenge.
True to his owner’s warning, Buggy was a playful pup with an extraordinary amount of energy. When Sandalphon approached, he looked her way and immediately started to wag his tail. Taking another step in his direction elicited a play-bow, and one step more set him off. He ran a short way in a burst of speed, then craned his head around to stare at the tall woman expectantly. He clearly wanted to be chased, and with no better options springing to mind, Sandalphon obliged him.
She started to run. Buggy did too, and he wasted very little time in showing his pursuer just how ungovernable he was. Though Sandalphon possessed much longer legs and therefore a much longer stride than the average woman, she was not an athlete, nor even someone who regularly exercised. Her outfit wasn’t exactly suited to strenuous physical activity either, especially the heels. The lost dog, meanwhile, ran like the wind. She chased him up and down the roof for several minutes, trying to corner him, but even when Buggy dashed within arm’s reach he slipped out of her grasp like sand between her fingers. It quickly became clear that the question wasn’t whether or not the archangel could catch him, but whether she could keep him going long enough to tire him out.
That’s not happening.
After a somewhat pitiful amount of time spent running around, Sandalphon was forced to concede. She fell to her knees, more than a little lightheaded, and her pupils turned into x’s. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath through a throat that felt painfully raw. Leader of the Apostles. Foremost among angels. Vanquisher of demons, she thought ruefully as she stared up at the bottom of the Sector 01 plate. Defeated by a dog.
As the seconds dragged on, however, she realized she wasn’t the only one hyperventilating. Sandalphon turned her gaze downward and found Buggy standing there in front of her, panting as he stared at her. Wondering why his playmate had stopped, he’d come over to check on her. Slowly the archangel closed her breath, her unwavering pupils fixed on the friendly canine as they became crosshairs. Then she lunged, locking her arms around his body. He struggled, but try as he might, Sandalphon would not let him go.
“You caught him!” the little girl yelled in delight as she came running up. “Yaaaaay, thank you!” She wrapped her arms around Buggy’s neck in a hug and he started licking her face, so Sandalphon let him go. After a moment the girl looked up at her. “Wow, you’re super pale. I thought you were gonna die or something. Are you okay, miss angel?”
As she stood up slowly, Sandalphon tried not to let her legs shake. “I…am well…my child. Please consider…getting your pet…a collar.”
The child gave a sagacious nod. “Okay. Do you want some water, miss angel?”
“...Yes, please.”
Wind Chimes ended up taking a quite a few minutes longer than Goldlewis would have thought, almost enough to make him start doubting the faith he placed in her. Her somewhat prolonged absence provided enough time for the Seekers she left behind to get a start on their assignment from Hal and tease out whatever information -or material goods- they could get from the locals.
While the situation here in Sector V might remind Geralt of certain slums from his past, this cyberpunk shantytown was pretty different in practice, so he didn’t make much headway. Zenkichi managed to cozy up to one citizen through a casual game of cards, learning a bit in the process. The nature of Hermitonic and the Hermits’ willingness to accept strong recruits might not be pivotal information, but any little detail helped in case it happened to prove critical later on.
Apparently someone attempted to hack into Susie’s systems, but her security measures stopped that outright, allowing her to nonchalantly bandy words with Roland about corporations in their world while Blazermate floated around. Since the directions she received from the injured lookout only led her as far as Sector V’s side entrance, she didn’t know where in the rust-coated colony the Hermits might actually be. The three started asking everyone they ran across where the Hermits were, straight up, but their questioning met with mostly cold and cagey responses. Either the people here didn’t know, didn’t want to say, or both. Maybe they were afraid of the attention the three might get carrying on like this. It quickly became clear that without putting in more effort, the three wouldn’t achieve much. By the time Susie might think to try and trace her would-be hacker’s signal, it had long since disappeared.
Karin found her way to a certain old man with a long beard, cowboy hat, and vest over faded green flannel. She quickly found out that he was a lot more genial than the average person around here. “What can I do for ya, friend?” When she asked to peruse his wares, he happily showed her his collection of otherworldly imbibables, from brews that could be mistaken for normal like Dark Cider and Mudtooth’s Tonic, to bizarre substances like Xenoplasm and Dark Fluid in alien, technological bottles. “Lucky for you I got plenty. Good ones, too!” Karin quickly made her selection, but before the old man could launch into a story about where she got it, his customer quickly steered him in a different direction.
“The Hermits, huh? Well missy, you came to the right place, ‘cause my name’s Mudtooth, and ain’t nobody been around longer or seen more than I have. Only three reasons why folks come to see me, and that’s my stories or my stew. And boy, I could tell you ‘bout them Hermits ‘til your ears fall off. They’re good folks for the most part, I reckon. Most of ‘em are Quarantine Valley born and bred, with roots round here what run deep. We’re all one big family down here, and you can bet your britches they take good care of it. They’re whatcha call tech-no-logic-ly gifted. Anyone who can fiddle with them beepers good enough or fight worth a damn ends up joinin’ in sooner or later, and they’re the ones who go out into the rest of the city to try and make things right for folks here. Gettin’ ‘em what they need, or takin’ down sumbitches who got it comin’ to ‘em. They’re our community’s guardian angels, I tell ya. Ain’t nobody else watchin’ out for us down here, that’s for doggone sure. Just the other day in fact, we got a strange kind o’ prep…particip…pre-cipi-ti-tation, y’hear? The ‘Other’ kind. A whole bunch of ‘em rained down just a couple blocks north o’ Sector V itself, and the Hermits, hoo boy, they weren’t happy. Turned out in force and whooped those monsters’ keisters but good! But lemme tell ya, that ain’t got nothin’ on the time…”
If permitted to do so, it seemed like Mudtooth would ramble on indefinitely.
While the others went about their business, Goldlewis waited for Wind Chimes in the covered market area. He selected a seat in the dining area that put his back to the wall behind him, and sat watching the citizens of Sector V go about their everyday lives. From here, he could smell the congee, and it was by no means appetizing. Even if he didn’t have a bite to eat a couple hours ago at Seventh Heaven, he might have passed it up. Yet the people here seemed to think of the porridge as manna from heaven, and the congee seller’s cauldron, a pot of gold. It occurred to Goldlewis that this might be the only ‘restaurant’ in the whole colony, where people could go to enjoy a hot meal with friends and family. As the townsfolk passed by, many threw suspicious, even resentful glances the veteran’s way. He couldn’t fault them for it; if he were in their shoes, he might’ve done the same. Goldlewis Dickinson might very well be the first overweight person they’d seen in their whole lives, and dressed in a suit to boot, however rustic his fashion sense might be. Being here reminded him just how lucky he really was.
A little later, Wind Chimes finally jogged into view. She spotted Goldlewis immediately and headed over. Judging by the fresh sweat on her brow, she’d been running the whole time. “Whew, hey. Sorry that took so long.” Putting one hand on her hip, she pointed her thumb at the far end of the market, where it narrowed back down into a footpath between ramshackle buildings. “Good to go?”
“Once we wrangle up the gang, I reckon,” Goldlewis grabbed his coffin and stood, hoisting it over his shoulder. A quick circuit of Sector V would be enough to gather the rest of the Seekers so they could proceed to the Hermits’ hideout. As he and Wind Chimes walked, Goldlewis raised an eyebrow at her. “Folks ‘round here send a lot of letters, miss?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly. The Uppers here don’t have a lot of loved ones topside or anything. Those envelopes were actually full of money–this week’s income for the movers and shakers of Zone 09.”
“Money?” Goldlewis echoed, his tone implying that he wanted to know more.
Wind Chimes adjusted her shoulder bag as she nodded. “Mhm. This might come as a shock to you, but Quarantine Valley isn’t quite as sealed as you might think. There’s ways to get in and out, if you’re in the know. And as it turns out, a place outside the law can be pretty valuable. Sector V is home to tons of tiny, illegal businesses. Workin’ without licenses, taxes, safety and hygiene regulations means folks can make stuff dirt cheap. Noodles, crops, clothes, hardware, counterfeits. Once they’re made, couriers like me put ‘em in our Attache Cases and take ‘em topside, where all kinds of shops and restaurants buy ‘em up and resell ‘em at a huge markup. Then we bring the money back down. It’s fucked, but it’s what we got.”
Perturbed, Goldlewis ran a hand through his hair. “That’s for doggone sure. Go-lly. I sure wish I could help.” Spotting Roland and Susie, he waved them over. “What about red matter contamination? Ain’t that a factor?”
“I guess. But you’d be surprised how much cheap labor sweetens the deal,” Wind Chimes replied with a shrug. Despite her casual, almost resigned tone, Goldlewis couldn’t help but think she sounded terribly ominous.
Once everyone reunited, Wind Chimes led them to the old train bridge out back. They came to a stop behind one of the converted train cars, where they could see the sentries standing out in front of the barricade at the bridge’s far end. Goldlewis crossed his arms. “I guess we’re makin’ an entrance?”
“You’d think so, right?” Wind Chimes smiled slyly, her hands on her hips. “The Hermit symbols are a dead giveaway, practically screamin’ ‘here we are!’ And there’s only a couple guards, so few that anyone lookin’ to break in would probably think they can just force their way right in.” She shook her head. “But that barricade’s a trap. Once you’re in, it slams shut behind you, and you’re toast. Follow me.”
She took the group over to the gap in the barrier on the far side of the bridge, then descended from the overlook via ladder. At the bottom, a shaky metal platform anchored to the bridge’s support strut extended out over the open space, with only flimsy metal railings between the Seekers and a deadly fall. A catwalk bridge extended out to an abandoned lower rooftop, but Wind Chimes directed the team’s attention backward. Behind the ladder lay a barrier of flat metal bars, but between it and the side of the bridge there was a slight gap that everyone could slip through, though Goldlewis needed to suck in his gut a little. The hidden path opened up into a small, squared recess in which an unmarked door was set.
“The trains used to run up top, but inside the bridge itself is a special maintenance passageway,” Wind Chimes explained. “This is where approved visitors like me come in.” She grabbed the handle and tried to turn it, only to find that try as she might, she couldn’t budge it. “Huh?” Frustrated, she put her shoulder to the door and banged against it, but the noise it made sounded so solid that Goldlewis wondered if it was barricaded. When Wind Chimes upped the force, the doorknob came off in her hands. “Damn it, what the hell?”
Hal’s drone projected a holograph of himself, a young man with a mop of blond hair and a technological blindfold, dressed in an equally futuristic outfit. He had one arm crossed, the other stroking his chin in contemplation. “Maybe they don’t want visitors today,” he murmured. Something to do with Reunion, maybe Goldlewis mused.
“Well, I don’t go back on my word.”
Wind Chimes braced herself, then raised her leg to kick the door down. Just as Goldlewis advised against it, she delivered such a mighty kick that the immediate area shook slightly, leaving his mouth ajar. Stronger than she looks, he noted. “Here, lemme help.” He and Geralt both joined in, the Witcher also kicking and Goldlewis using his coffin as a battering ram. With the three of them together, they managed to bash the door open with a tremendous racket, at which point they realized that it had been barricaded with a handful of metal beams. No alarms went off, and no guards came running. “...Not bad.” Putting a hand to his head, he called Sandalphon on his magic glyph. “We found a way into the Hermits’ base. Proceeding inside.”
The archangel replied immediately. “Roger. I won’t be able to support you from out here, but I can warp in if you need me. Proceed carefully.”
With their guide in the lead, the Seekers proceeded down the tunnel. Another thick door stood at the far end, explaining the noise insulation, but this one could be opened. On the other side lay the bottom floor of what seemed to be the Hermits’ base, a large, square loading dock converted into something akin to a training room. A stack of metal crates blocked the veteran’s immediate view, but right away Goldlewis heard the sounds of fighting. He and the others crept to the edge of the stack and peered into the open area. Its floor was plastered with white paint to form a giant Hermit symbol, but that wasn’t what took Hal’s breath away. “Look!” he gasped through his drone. “That guy’s fighting a chimera…w-wait, that means–they can see them!?”
Goldlewis could see the ‘guy’ he mentioned, dressed in a demolitionist in a thick, full-body suit with a horn like a rhinoceros beetle, adorned with the holographic eye of the Hermits. She wielded a hammer, and though she certainly seemed to be fighting, Goldlewis couldn’t see her opponent. He could only trust Hal’s red matter detection systems, though Wind Chimes quickly confirmed it. “Yep, same as me. Given how she’s fighting though, maybe even stronger.”
Movement in the hall at the makeshift arena’s other side drew Hal’s attention. “Look, here comes someone!” Sure enough, Goldlewis could see four people approaching: an angry-looking gray-haired man in a ragged coat and lots of belts, a menacing man with paired hook-swords, and a demihuman in a dark biohazard suit, all masked and following a large man in a big, dark coat and baggy pants. Their leader wore a black helmet with a number of cables sprouting out of it like the hair of a wildman, a futuristic nodachi slung across his back, and a holographic face with x-shaped eyes and a toothy grin. “Well? How’s our latest sample looking?” he asked as the fight continued. His voice was low and smooth.
“It changes a little person to person, but generally one dose is enough to get them fighting fit,” the scowling man replied.
“Great. Now our missing associate’s our only problem.” The frontrunner crossed his arms as he observed the battle. “Any new info on that?”
“We’ve got everyone on the lookout for intel, and still we’ve come up with nothing,” the demihuman replied in a somewhat smarmy-sounding female voice.
Her boss snorted. “Hmph. Ten zenny says he went through a gate then.” The fighting Hermit jumped and performed a spinning sweep, which seemed to create a burst of chaotic red-green-blue energy on impact with his invisible target. An inhuman groan echoed through the room, and the fighter eased up. Victory was his.
“Whoa,” Hal breathed, still watching from the team’s hiding place.
“Hm, too easy. We won’t get any results with a weak-ass chimera like that.” The boss sauntered into the arena. “Still, though. This batch is legit, no doubt about that.” He inhaled deeply, his voice gaining an edge of gleeful eagerness. “The days of cowering in fear are over! Soon…we can strike back! I’d like to see those Administration bastards do THIS!” He whirled around, looking at his men. “Whaddya think boys? Feel like savin’ the world!?” He then turned toward the hiding Seekers, turning his holographic face in their direction. “Cmon, make sure our audience over there hears it!”
Hal’s drone flinched. “What?”
“C’mon, what’re ya waiting for? Come over here and let me give you a proper welcome!” The boss beckoned them over.
“You don’t suppose he’s talking to someone else, do you?” Hal ventured nervously. “Hey, let’s get outta here before-”
Taking a deep breath, Goldlewis stepped out from behind cover. Wind Chimes stayed behind, not wanting to be exposed. As the Seekers approached, the Hermit crossed his arms. Behind him, his men stood in silence, their brows furrowed and their teeth gritted. Their boss only grinned however, holographic decor flickering all over his outfit. “Hi. I’m Kyle. I’m the leader of this little charitable organization.” As he spoke, his ‘mouth’ opened and closed. “There we go. Now, rats crawling around in tunnels, that I’ve heard of. But the Special Operations Unit? That’s a new one.”
Goldlewis’ frown deepened. “You recognize us?”
Kyle nodded slowly, clearly relishing the chance to ham this up. “Of course There’s no Administration in Sector V. No state. No real economy. The most valuable thing we’ve got is information. And you’re looking at a very rich man. Quarantine or no quarantine, if it can be known, we Hermits know it. It just so happens we’ve been watching you–ever since you first set foot in Detroit on Saturday afternoon.”
“Then I reckon you oughta know why we’re here,” Goldlewis said flatly. “You gonna talk, partner?”
“Now, now. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Kyle admonished him, his smile turning into a more neutral expression and his x-eyes narrowing. “I’m more than happy to talk. But what will my Hermits think if I give away their hard-earned intel for free?”
Hal gave a wry laugh. “If it’s a bribe you want, forget it. We’re broke.”
Grinning again, Kyle turned away. “It doesn’t take an extensive intelligence network to figure that out, eheh. But I have a different proposal. My men tell me you’re strong. Inhumanly strong.” He took a few steps to stand alongside the other Hermits. “I’d love to see just how strong you are up close and personal, if you catch my drift.” After looking up at the massive Hermit banner hanging from the wall, he turned around. “And I’m afraid that’s my final offer.” The other Hermits began to spread out. The scowling man drew his custom kukri dagger, the Peacemaker, ready to take shadow form and unleash follow-up dark attacks by activating Trailblade. One fully-suited woman hefted her hammer, soon to become a nigh-unstoppable juggernaut, and the other prepared to launch canisters (and mines) of foul-smelling, poisonous, and very flammable chemical gas. The other man drew his hook-swords, poised to confound his foes with superhuman speed. Goldlewis set down his coffin and loosened his tie.
“Should’ve expected an ambush,” Hal fretted. “K-Kyle? When this is over, we get our info, correct?”
The boss of the Hermits crossed his arms. “See, I knew you could be reasoned with. You’ve got my word, I’ll tell you anything you want. Buuut there’s one little thing you should keep in mind. You’re on our turf now. The only law here is what I say. And I say kill, kill, kill!”
So saying, he drew his nodachi and leaped into the air. He hurled it downward, burying it several feet deep into the arena, then flipped midair and landed on the hilt. Goldlewis backdashed just in time; when Kyle landed he triggered burst of sustained lightning, arcing across the area as he crouched there, grinning. The other Hermits yelled; the battle was on.
Deep-Paris - Supernatural Life Research Facility
Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Sakura’s @Zoey Boey, Pit’s @Yankee, Roxas’ @Double, Luka
While nobody doubted that the stygian depths of Beacon Mental Hospital harbored yet more hidden secrets and horrors, neither the Seekers nor their friends from Psych-OSF wanted to linger for very long. The revelations brought to light in the eerie glow of the Brainframe were not the kind that could be easily swept under the rug and dismissed, out of sight and out of mind. They demanded action, and everyone had something to do. Once Luka whisked them all away, Gemma would personally see that Dexio and Sina found a safe place to rest and recuperate, not just from their harrowing ordeal down here but also the physical and mental reset that ensued once friend hearted, as well as their irrepressible memories of Galeem’s apocalypse. Thanks to Crenshaw’s cooperation, however, everyone else would be delving even further into the unknown. Pit, Roxas, Sakura, Midna, and Luka were determined to find Peach, and find out what they could do to help her.
By the time everyone reconvened, ready to travel, Crenshaw and his compatriots had amassed a small stockpile of brains taken out of the Brainframe. They had been individually packed into cuboid black boxes with red lights on top, one apiece, and then stacked in the area where Crenshaw would be using his Transport power. “Are you ready?” He asked the others.
“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Luka ventured to say. His tone was muted and low, and he did not disguise his stress with his expression. Giving an equally serious nod, Crenshaw activated his power. A rectangular field of orange energy began to take shape around the group, and with a bright flash, the Stem Chamber was silent once more.
Click for music
When the light faded, the Seekers found themselves in a new room, larger and much more brightly lit, with metal floors but stone walls of an almost classical style, the sort one might expect of an old governmental building or museum. Conveyor belts connected a number of large, sophisticated processing machines. If anything, this place looked like a factory, or perhaps -judging by the large cylindrical tanks partially filled with dark, pinkish red fluid- a distillery. Immediately after arriving, Crenshaw’s associates began cooperating to load the boxes onto the nearby belts.
Yuito watched them work, his brows knitted together. “What are they doing with them?”
“You’ll understand soon enough,” Crenshaw told him. “This way, please. Your friend isn’t far.” He gestured to everyone to follow him in the direction of a set of doors between the two tanks.
Hanabi started after him tentatively, unable to take her eyes off the machines. There was a strange smell in the air, foul enough to make everyone somewhat nauseous. “I..I thought this was a research facility?”
Rather than proceeding through the doors, Crenshaw first stopped at a terminal attached to the base of one of the tanks. “It is. Here, a few dedicated scientists from Spring Pharmaceuticals are supporting the effort to research and cure Others.”
“Spring, as in Arashi and Fubuki Spring?” Luka asked for confirmation.
“Yes, their family company. This is where they make the medicine used to treat the victims of metamorphosis.” Carefully taking an empty ampoule from a carton, Crenshaw attached it to a port on the terminal and flicked a switch. Once enough liquid poured down from the tank to fill up the ampoule, the machine switched off automatically, and Crenshaw decoupled the ampoule from it. “Here. If you’re going to visit her, you’ll need this.” Luka accepted it gingerly, and stared through the glass at the murky substance within. His countenance seemed subtly horrified.
The others pushed through the doors quickly, eager to be away from the noise and noxious, unwholesome odor, though Yuito’s gaze lingered on the machines a moment longer. This new area, however, took their breath away in another manner. It looked like a typical hallway that one might find in a mansion, with wooden doors on either side and wooden wall panels beneath yellowed wallpaper with paintings, as well as marble tile and a red carpet atop it that extended the corridor’s length. Except that this hallway was ten times normal size, with doors that were thirty-five feet all at least, complete with unreachable doorknobs high above any human’s heads. Hanabi couldn’t even see the paintings when she craned her neck up. Set into the wooden doors were metal ones of a normal size, looking like cat flaps. Once the doors to the processing plant shut, the whole place was deathly quiet except for the newcomers’ muted steps on the carpet.
Before Crenshaw could provide any connection, the psychics on the team heard something. A slight murmur on a meager wavelength, barely indistinguishable from the subtle but still-unsettling psychic noise that permeated this place.
”Who’s there?”
Out of Yuito, Hanabi, and Luka, only Luka would recognize it. Sakura would recognize it better though. Even with that strange distortion.
”...Someone…there?”
“That’s voice…” Luka whispered. “It’s her!”
He took off running. Yuito and Hanabi went after him. They sprinted all the way down the hall to the immense door at the very end. ”Peach! We’re here to help you!” he called out through Brain Talk.
The voice he heard back was stronger. She was close. ”W-wait, you shouldn’t…!”
Once the team reached the door, they couldn’t unseal it fast enough. As it finally unlocked and slid open, everyone rushed inside. Beyond the giant door they found an equally absurd, equally giant bedroom, every bit as fancy as the hallway itself, from the windows (which seemed to be light panels) to the bed. And in its center, slumped on the floor like a tired dog, lay a huge Other, with hanging heads, green pinecone flowers, and spiked ribbons that writhed restlessly in the air.
”You…you guys…I…”
The Under - Kingdom’s Edge
Level 12 Nadia (68/120)
The Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Artorias’ @Dark Cloud
Word Count: 1708
For a tense few minutes, the unmistakable feeling of bone-deep dread had settled over Nadia Fortune. The loss of her soul, something vague and intangible but nonetheless quintessentially important, weighed upon her, and the hollow sensation that ensued left her unnerved. Add to that the sheer sensory overload of the dark yet vibrant Crypt, filled with shambling undead dancers and unfamiliar music so powerfully strident that the catgirl could feel it thrumming in her bones, and it was like something out of a nightmare. Even Kosm’s beach, in all its eldritch horror, didn’t leave her feeling so overwhelmed. At least that was something she could fight. Here, she scarcely knew where to begin.
Chowing down on some pizza in the relative tranquility of the Crypt’s central nexus really helped, though. When offered some by her fellow thief, the feral accepted it gratefully. “For me? You shouldn’t have~!” That lava eel she snacked on down in the Hive had been nice, but it really only whetted Nadia’s appetite, reminding her just how hungry she really was. By now it had to be well past lunchtime, about two in the afternoon if she had to guess, and when one exerted as much as Nadia did one tended to work up an appetite. Once she savored some cheese and pepperoni, she felt much better. “Ahh. I’m not a golfer, but I know a good slice when I see it!” At one point, she visited that strange jukebox, Leitmotif. It didn’t seem to feature any means with which she could select songs, but when Nadia turned it on, a little eye opened up and scanned her, much to her surprise. After a moment, the words ‘Now Playing: The Fish Man’s Dance’ appeared on the screen, and an energetic tune began to play, filling the nexus with its mostly-jaunty, sometimes-eerie strings..
Huh. At first Nadia wasn’t sure she liked it, but the more she listened, the more she felt that it somehow suited her.
The Koopa Troop also helped turn things around. Kamek, who she thought had been left outside, somehow managed to show up without having to sign away his soul, and that wasn’t the only ace the family had up its sleeve. As it turned out, both Bowser and Junior could dance as well, and if the young prince’s mortification was anything to go by his dad’s assertions might not be bravado for once. Sectonia pointed out something poignant as well: that the NecroDancer, as the Crypt’s undisputed boss, might possess another all-important mask shard. That one possibility turned this whole affair from a potentially deadly detour into a roundabout opportunity.
Bowser and Kamek went off to find out more about the current situation, namely by accosting the first normal-looking person they saw. They returned a few moments later with some important, if not exhaustive, information. It looked like the Seekers would be dancing it out in a bid to reclaim their souls. “So, he’s more or less holdin’ our souls hostage to make sure we do what he wants. But if, I mean when, we win ‘em back, they’ll be nothin’ stoppin’ us from makin’ him the Necro-deader!” She winced. “Oof, heheh, uh, gimme a second, I can do WAY better than that, I swear…”
Before she could, Therion departed to track the person that the Koopas mentioned. Primrose got a move on as well, but she had a different destination in mind. Everyone had been idly watching the instructors and their pupils here while partaking in pizza, but the team’s resident dancer didn’t intend to remain a spectator forever. Despite Bowser and Junior volunteering, it went without saying that Primrose would be the Seekers’ best bet when it came to outdancing the competition. But would she be enough? It occurred to Nadia that only those who won their souls back could chance actually fighting the NecroDancer, and the feral didn’t imagine that a mask shard would be given to someone who couldn’t actually fight. Nadia quickly looked around. Since Ganondorf, Jesse, and Rubick, refused to sign and evidently didn’t find a loophole like Kamek, the team was down a few members. That left Primrose, Therion, Bowser, Junior, Kamek, Rika, Sectonia, Artorias, and herself. That should be plenty in theory, but only if everyone qualified to take on the NecroDancer.
Therion returned after a bit with the specifics of the Crypt’s challenge, relaying Tingyun’s explanation of how everything worked. He also revealed a loophole that exonerated at least one person present. Nadia grinned at Junior. “Sweet, that means you’re off the hook! And you…” She glanced at Rika, furrowing her brows. “I’m…not sure, honestly. Definitely not me, though. I’m twenty, unless fusion changes how old I am.” She scratched her head. “Huh, that’s kinda weird, come to think of it. If that’s how it works, does that mean you could live forever by fusin’ with younger spirits?”
When Primrose extended an invitation, Nadia looked her way for a moment, thinking. From the moment the two first crossed paths in Twilight Town, the catgirl had harbored a slight, gnawing envy. Primrose seemed more sophisticated, composed, capable, and mature than herself by a long shot, with talents and hidden depths that went beyond just hitting things. She also had Therion, a good friend (maybe more than that?) following in her footsteps, a quiet but loyal companion who just so happened to be a better thief. Nadia didn’t even have Ace yet–hopefully he was doing okay, wherever he was now. She and Primrose got split up back at the Crossroads and didn’t reconvene until the Home of Tears, where again they worked separately, Primrose fusing with an intoxicating songstress and herself fusing with a scruffy alley cat that had a TV for a head. But then they met at the Terminal, where the two women got the chance to share a quiet heart-to-heart. Nadia knew that she didn’t need to be jealous of Primrose, not when they could just be friends. Besides, the catgirl knew she had her own charms, and if she felt unsatisfied, she could work to improve herself rather than envying others. And this was just such an opportunity.
“I’ll take that dance!” she replied, springing to her feet with a smile. Leaving the Troop to keep Sectonia company, Nadia joined Primrose in crossing through the nexus from the stairs that the Seekers colonized to where the instructors were. A lot might be resting on the senior dancer’s stronger-than-usual shoulders, but Nadia didn’t intend to let her shoulder that responsibility alone. Not when she just so happened to wield a secret weapon. “I’m not bashful or anythin’,” she began. “But I was wonderin’ if I could take you up on those lessons. Don’t get me wrong, whatever that is looks super cool…”
She fell silent for a moment as she looked over at Areshi and his brothers as they gave a quick demonstration of breakdancing. Their moves were downright awesome, full of zany, daredevil energy that made it nigh-impossible to look away as they stood on their heads, whirled their legs, and spun around in a series of unpredictable, high-momentum power moves. If anything it looked almost like an unorthodox fighting style, and Nadia could easily picture herself delivering flurries of kicks in such a bombastic manner.
After a moment though, she tore her attention away from the breakdancers and put it on Primrose. “Heh, sorry for the ‘paws’. Honestly, I really do wanna try it, but right now I’m bettin’ on you. See, back in Limsa Lominscuttle Town I ended up killin’ a couple hours with this purple-haired gal named Shantae. I was a little nervous at first, but after she showed me the ropes, dancin’ turned out to be real fun. Maybe I even got a knack for it. The way you two dance is purr-etty similar, so if you’re down to help me out, you’re probably my best bet.” Grinning, she gave her friend a wink. “Besides, two gorgeous gals like us workin’ together? Once we’re on the dance floor, we’ll knock ‘em dead.”
As the two crossed the nexus to get themselves ready for dance battle, one of the instructors passed by them going the opposite direction. It was the ribbon dancer, and he approached the spot where the other Seekers rested and gave them a formal bow. With his slender frame, makeup, flowing pink robe, and long purple hair done up in a ponytail, one could be forgiven for mistaking him for a girl even after he greeted them in a soft, cordial voice. “Good afternoon. Pardon my intrusion, but I couldn’t help but overhear the words ‘ribbon dancer’ earlier, and I must confess that my interest was piqued. It is a rather rare style, after all. Unless I’m mistaken, you’re new here, so as a seasoned veteran I’d be happy to give a few pointers, if you’re so inclined. My own style has a few eccentricities you might just find useful. For instance…” With an elegant flourish, he formed one of his own ribbons into a drill, then launched it upward. It spun with supernatural speed and power, seemingly strong enough to pierce stone, before unfurling and returning to him. “This kind of Spiral, if used correctly, can do more chip damage to an opponent’s guard than it would if it actually hit. Not that we can fight here, but who knows~” He looked around to gauge the Seekers’ interest. Though Junior was the ribbon dancer, Sectonia -who lacked legs but could definitely manipulate a ribbon- might be intrigued as well.
Regardless, once everyone warmed up, it would be time for them to earn their keep. Going from one hundred to the ten thousand points necessary to challenge the NecroDancer would be difficult, but the newcomers could go about it in different ways. It would take a hundred dance-offs with the dead (not to mention hours) to farm up enough providing nothing went awry, but other contractors were more tempting targets. If the Seekers were confident enough, they could even challenge the Crypt’s various Floorbosses to a bevy of points in one go. Either way, the clock was ticking.
Contractors, accrue ten thousand points. Non-contractors, help out however possible.
Undead and other contractors can be from any rhythm or dance game, or dancers in general, preferably indies and/or non-humans if possible. The tomb’s rooms are decked out like clubs/raves with Halloween/spooky decoration/theming.
Undead and other contractors can be from any rhythm or dance game, or dancers in general, preferably indies and/or non-humans if possible. The tomb’s rooms are decked out like clubs/raves with Halloween/spooky decoration/theming.