Lugubrious

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

While he tried to put aside his reverent enthusiasm for the sake of lofty simplicity as he furnished the others with an overview of his storied homeland, Lewa still fretted internally that he’d do Mata Nui a disservice by failing to properly convey not just the versatile island’s majesty, but its essential nature. His time in this world, brief and involuntary though it had been, did more than anything else serve to illuminate the vast gulf of difference between it and the beloved realm he hailed from. Maybe, he reflected, he also ended up haranguing them with too many unfamiliar names and syllables, and those ultimately unnecessary details further garbled his explanation. On the contrary, however, the others seemed to grasp the sort of nature-attuned tribal society he outlined with immediate and surprising ease. They shrugged off the odd names, nonplussed for the most part by elements of a foreign culture, as one might expect from denizens of realities that were home to many. The only element of his eager fantastical tale that apparently aroused a sense of puzzlement was his matter-of-fact testimony that such a life could be led by machines. Of this, naturally, Lewa himself was living proof, and with pride in his home alight in his eyes he stood tall among the otherworlders, more than willing to answer any additional questions that his circumstantial allies might raise.

Remilia praised his home, and alongside Sanae, expressed sympathy for the toa’s plight. It pleased him to know that the others could grasp just how dire the situation back home could become in his absence–and how imperative it was that he return. Only one of the assembled strangers posed him another question, though. Though his face lay hidden beneath his mask, Lewa couldn’t hide the vigor with which he’d happily keep the memories of his home alive in his mind, and nobody wanted to get too bogged down in the details. His fascinatingly magical companion Rayne, however, did ask about one thing she wanted to know, a matter of taxonomy more than anything else. To Lewa, the answer seemed obvious, even if Rayne’s phrasing invited a measure of misunderstanding. “Why, my brothers and I are toa!” Lewa replied proudly. “Heroes defined by the three virtues of unity, duty, and destiny!” He gave each word special emphasis, then fell silent, as if his succinct declaration summarized everything worth knowing about his biomechanical race.

Despite the aplomb with which he’d reintroduced himself alongside his homeland, Lewa hardly resented the limelight moving elsewhere. The world didn’t revolve around him, after all, and this was hardly an appropriate time for showboating, even if the Spirit of Air had been particularly inclined. Joker introduced himself, offering a reference for his code name that completely passed Lewa by. Card? Was ‘the Card’ some sort of archetypal or legendary figure whose namesake the boy had become? He quickly dismissed that question as not just foolish, but irrelevant as Joker unveiled the presence of a new entity, ethereal and evil in appearance, not to mention so large that Lewa could no longer count himself the tallest out of everyone here. This spectral presence did not linger for more than a couple moments, just long enough to leave a lasting impression and an odd sense of intensified darkness. Lewa shuddered slightly as the impulse faded. Shadows were the domain of the Makuta, mortal enemy of Mata Nui, matoran, and toa alike. “Nothing safe-good can come of dabbling in darkness,” he muttered, half to Joker and half to himself.

The exchange petered out not long after his portentous warning. Everyone could tell the others a little about themselves, but the lack of common ground beyond their maddeningly unclear predicament made extended conversation nigh-impossible. To make matters worse, everyone was to some degree tired and sore thanks to their efforts since arriving in this world, and like the poor villagers who’d been through so much, they needed both rest and whatever succor could be found in dreams. Despite the success he’d enjoyed alongside these people so far, Lewa couldn’t truly bring himself to trust the others yet. Nor could he trust this hamlet to shelter him for the night; it had fallen once, and would do so again all the easier if assailed under cover of darkness. As such, he bid the others farewell, then made for the forest. He could sleep a lot easier up among the branches of the woodland canopy, where he could recline on a sturdy bough amidst similarly colored verdure and imagine, even if just for a moment, that the rustling whisper of the wind among the leaves belonged to the jungled slopes of home.

-=-=-

When the morning sunlight shone through the trees, casting dappled shadows onto the loam and leaf litter of the forest floor, Lewa awoke. Despite his best attempt to surround himself with comfortably familiar scenery, he’d never managed to shake the creeping, almost anathematic sensation that he didn’t belong here. That hardly made for a peaceful rest, and he knew his energy couldn’t have fully recharged, but after rousing himself he felt confident that he could go another day, physically at least. If another full day went by in this bizarre region without any indication of a return journey, the condition of his mind might be another matter. For now, though, he resolved to greet the new day with a smile on his face, and to hope that the youngster who played a part in his forcible seizure yesterday would be wide awake and amenable -not to mention able- to help. If not…well, best not to dwell on such things.

Lewa descended from the treetops with a practiced grace that defied his formidable form. He returned to the gutted village at a steady pace, suppressing the nervous energy that would’ve otherwise quickened his steps. When he approached the lodge where the others put an inordinate amount of trust in both numbers and one another, however, he found that a hushed but uneasy contention among the men had already garnered his allies’ attention.

They quickly filled the new arrival in, but the toa didn’t seem quite as quick to offer his services again. “Monster? In the trees?” He narrowed upturned eyes, a hand on the chin of his mask. He hadn’t sensed anything so far, but his senses were hardly used to the shapes and sounds of this strange land. “You mean a rahi of some kind? Now, now. Let’s not be so hasty. A sorrow-bad story has unfolded here, true, but rahi don’t understand such things. They know-feel no malice, and have only their instincts to listen-follow. It’s only natural that such things might lead them here. This is their home-land, after all. Let me keep look-out among the trees. I have a way with rahi. Even the mighty-big Ash Bear can become a friend if you know how.” Given how different things were here, and how much behavioral knowledge went into such endeavors, Lewa felt much less confident about befriending the wildlife than usual. Still, he felt obligated to try.

World of Light

Deep Ground - the Cornice

Level 6 Goldlewis (154/60) Level 5 Sandalphon (80/50)
Blazermate, Susie, and Roland’s @Archmage MC, Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Geralt and Zenkichi’s @Multi_Media_Man, Sakura and Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Pit’s @Yankee, Roxas’ @Double, Giovanna
Word Count: 1776

Though impressive to behold, and reassuring in its ferocity, the roar of the Skyfish in Goldlewis’ hands amounted to frustrating little. Moebius Y didn’t even register it. Well, the veteran hadn’t exactly expected this chimeric colossus to melt like a slug once salted by his minigun fire, but it looked like the Seekers were in it for the long haul. Still, that was nothing new, and at least his shots weren’t just pinging harmlessly off barriers or armor. As long as the team could strike their target, they could win. Provided that they survived.

As expected, Moebius Y was determined not to let that happen. The blows delivered by his arms were gargantuan, and not so slow that they could be evaded with casual ease. Whenever his limbs began to move, the heroes needed to move faster. Their foe’s offensive arsenal seemed limited in this form, but his attacks proved to be brutal in their simplicity. Worst were the lasers, threatening huge areas at once as they raked across the floors, airborne platforms, and walls. Goldlewis could try to return fire, but his Security Level system was the limiting factor, a major double-edged sword. Though his UMA could replicate technology without theoretical limit given enough time, this process put a hard limit on the quality -and quantity- of the firepower that the veteran could bring to bear. Only his coffin -and his iron body- remained constant. That meant that, like Giovanna, he had no choice but to get up close and personal. If only he shared her speed.

When Midna and her savage beasts took off running, Giovanna joined the pack. She might not be able to keep pace with the unnatural wolves on her own, but together she and Rei had run with the Twilight Princess already, and the floating remains of the bridge looked like the team’s best bet for staying mobile. Standing still, after all, was death. Moebius Y did not tolerate Blazermate’s turret for more than a moment. With a baleful glance, his lasers quickly shredded the stationary sentry nest into shrapnel. Nobody who saw that could fail to realize that the same fate awaited them if they failed to stay mobile. As such, the Seekers kept themselves one step ahead of their foe’s mighty swings and sweeping beams. Midna and Gio in particular put their agility to use trying to circle around the Moebius. Out of the two, the secret agent leveraged her positioning to launch hit-and-run attacks. Her divekicks and Trovão flying kicks allowed her to close the distance, strike like lightning, and then disappear just as quickly back into the mako storm.

Meanwhile, Midna kickstarted the colossal endeavor of managing the Soul of Ambition’s aggression. Karin pitched in with the help of her grappling hook, trying to alleviate some of the burden. By taking the role of tank, the two were playing a dangerous game of cat-and-mouse, banking on their ability to avoid the worst of Y’s assault. Karin in particular had one problem: lacking any ranged options, she couldn’t threaten and provoke Y as easily as many of those she was trying to safeguard. By now, everyone was laying into the Mobius with everything they had.

Their target moved a lot, shifting hundreds of feet at a time as he turned and attacked. Even direct hits on the eyes didn’t appear to be any more effective. That made precision less effective than sheer output, but with thirteen Seekers and only three heads to focus on them, the team was more than capable of rising to the challenge.

An array of lasers from the eyes of Y’s main head swept over the hallway’s mouth from low to high, just the sort of catastrophe the frontrunners had been trying to avoid by taking their chances on the floating debris. Geralt evaded it with a mad sprint, but Susie and Blazermate, who hadn’t changed their defensive tactics from the fight against the clones, both got hit. The laser obliterated the medabot’s projectile shield in an instant, and two hit Susie’s bulky Business Suit. Sandalphon hadn’t moved either, but when the lasers blazed forth, she stood up and braced herself, eyes narrowed as they calculated with almost mechanical precision. “Steady…” When the beams rose she moved a half-step back and turned sideways, standing tall as she narrowly passed between the beams. Only her coat, billowing from the disturbed air, was severed.

Though he'd put a lot of effort into helping to defeat the imposter Akiras, Hayato's fight was far from finished. He ran after the others, sending out his legion and using it to pull him from platform to platform. With only a Sword Legion beside him, his ranged options were limited, so he kept up the pressure with his x-baton in blaster mode as he made his way closer. In the short time the others had known him, the young officer had been unerringly taciturn, seldom speaking or showing emotion even as he pulled off daredevil stunts. Now though, he looked furious. As his fusion with his own legion made plain, the death of his sister -his real sister- had sent him on a downward spiral. Whatever it cost him, Hayato was going to take revenge. His Sword Legion slingshotted him through the mako storm, his x-baton switched to gladius mode, to deliver a huge smash to the middle head of the Moebius. Then, as retaliatory lasers surged forth, his partner yanked him to safety.

Not long after, Midna pulled off the impressive feat of binding one of Y’s hands to the bridge. Though the Moebius thrashed against the astral chain to break free, her allies quickly took advantage. Roxas in particular raced up their enemy’s arm in order to deliver a flashy series of strikes to his head. Opposite him and Karin, a floating platform spun around to reveal Giovanna crouched on it, hiding out of sight. She leaped, airdashed forward, then shot down in a crackling green-and-red blur. “Fear on the wind!” As an overdrive, her Ventania struck with vigorous strength, mirroring Karin’s own flying kick, then led into a quick combo. With Y distracted, the firing squad down in the hallway could renew their efforts. Crossbow bolts, shotgun blasts, missiles, and charged hadoukens flew up to spatter against the monster’s huge body, while strikers attacked en masse. Valjean’s gun skills and Pit’s light arrows flew in from the tempest as well, and Sandalphon joined in the barrage, emptying a full magazine of red-hot sniper rounds into those unblinking red eyes of his.

At the moment, Goldlewis wasn’t shooting. He’d thrown caution to the wind by throwing himself at his Moebius foe, landing on one of the rib-like bone spurs on Y’s torso. “You’re! Going! Down!” He worked the body with his coffin, battering the bizarre, corded purple flesh. Few living things could take punishment like this, but the Soul of Ambition was one of a kind. And after a few moments, Y broke free from his bindings in dramatic fashion. With one final, mighty wrench, he tore off the entire section of bridge that Midna anchored his hand to, including those attacking it. The chains shattered as he flailed his arm through the storm in a gigantic backhand that hurled the bridge piece away to crash into the reactor wall. Giovanna was unlucky enough to be caught in the path of his blow. Stunned by the agonizing impact, she grabbed hold of the arm and held on for dear life. Luck really wasn’t on her side today.

“Gio!” Down below, Goldlewis clamped a mighty mitt down on the bone spur’s edge and held tight. Unable to see what became of his friend from this angle, he gritted his teeth in anger and uncertainty. Right now, he had no choice but to trust her, or -failing that- trust in the team’s healers to bail her out.

The fight resumed, as intense as ever. While the Seekers could deal damage easily, their foe was just too big. If they beat Y like this, it wouldn’t be through a death of a thousand cuts–a million might be more appropriate. His enormous attacks forced evasion to be their number-one priority. By the same token, however, Y’s impractical size meant he couldn’t really hit the heroes if he didn’t catch them sleeping. This was a stalemate of incredible proportions, but a stalemate all the same, and Y knew it. “Cease your pitiful resistance,” he resounded. ”Within my ark, there will be no injustice. No disparity. No suffering. Through unity, you can finally achieve peace. Immortality. Don’t you see? I intend to transcend the cycle! To transcend Moebius!”

Suddenly, the Soul of Ambition straightened up, as if breathing deep. His ‘ribcage’ opened wide like the tentacles of an anemone, and in his chest a brilliant light began to shine. It was another vortex, like the one Y used before in his Consul form, but far, far larger. Inescapable, all-consuming. Given his proximity, Goldlewis was one of the first to be sucked inside, but the floating platforms flew in right after. This time, nobody could escape. Sandalphon braced herself as she hurtled out of the mouth of the pod-lined hallway, drawn violently alongside the rest into the maelstrom of pure, unadulterated white. Her eyes were squeezed closed as she prayed, pleading in silence for deliverance.

After a moment of pure chaos, the mind-numbing sensory overload ceased. The archangel fell against a solid, albeit nigh-invisible surface. When she opened her eyes, she found herself deposited in an extraplanar void, snow-white except for the geometric purple lines that indicated a floor, stretching out to infinity where the lines merged into a solid purple horizon. The planes roiled like a polygonal sea, their movement more intense farther away. It was a chilling, otherworldly sight, but not everything was alien. She could see Goldlewis, who’s already arrived and risen to his feet, and the other Seekers were materializing. They were not dead yet, nor absorbed into the Moebius’ being. In fact, this might be a blessing in disguise.

As Sandalphon picked herself up, her eyes lay squarely on the only anomaly present anywhere in this featureless, geometric void. It seemed to be a collection of polyhedrons, similar in appearance to the ground but arranged in a sort of cluster around a single, glowing nexus. It looked a little like the purple core she’d seen in the chest of Y’s armor, and a lot like the singularity created by what Y described as ‘legionic fusion’. Maybe it was both. It appeared to be pulsing violently, constantly shifting in shape, growing spiky protrusions that shrunk back down just as quickly. After a moment, it spat out lengths of glowing purple lines like circuits that stabbed outward. On impulse Sandalphon rolled to avoid one of the circuit lances, while Goldlewis blocked another, taking a chunk of chip damage. To the archangel, the situation seemed clear. “He’s pulled us into some manner of metaphysical inner realm,” she declared, making her intentions clear as she took aim with her gunstaff and fired. “We must beat him here, or be absorbed like the clones.”

In response, the Core fluctuated violently. More lances shot outward to try and impale the Seekers, while needle-like barbs flew in arcs through the air. Circuits that spread out across the ground created forests of spears that shot up after a brief delay, and purple wireframe phantoms manifested in groups to attack or create barriers of dark purple interlocking triangles around the core. In moments, everything was pandemonium once more, but the Seekers knew what they had to do: what they were best at.

The Under - Dirtmouth, the Fading Town

Level 13 Ms Fortune (84/130)
The Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Ganondorf’s @Double
Word Count: 1699

Without many other ideas, Nadia made her way out of Reeves Quarry at a leisurely amble, still hungry. Her meal of silver fish, preserved in briny tomato juice, left her half full and with a whetted appetite. Still, even if the artisan had more to spare, she didn’t want to go and entreat him for another handout. Her friendly chat had ended on such an uncommonly positive note that the feral didn’t want to spoil it, and besides, she knew that she could do better than begging for scraps like a mangy alley cat. Out here in the wilds, the world might as well be her oyster. Of course, that didn’t mean she could just pilfer whatever she wanted. Nadia was not the kind of thief who stole from those who didn’t deserve it, or couldn’t afford it. She couldn’t bat her eyelashes at people and make them forfeit their worldly possessions, like a certain dancer friend of hers.

A real cat didn’t need to rely on people, though. From the hugest tiger to the teeniest tabby, felines were hunters, and no amount of domestication had tamed that primal instinct. Nadia felt pretty confident that, despite all the stuff she’d eaten prepared by another’s hand, the same held true for her. And already the gears in her head were turning, a factory lining churning out an endless procession of great ideas–though some, admittedly, were much better than others. After exiting the quarry, the feral crested a rocky knoll of red grass and put her hands on the hips, scanning the Chasm. Listening. In a place like this, with no lakes or streams to be seen, she’d have a hard time finding fish. But who said anything about fish? There lay another great expanse just beyond her fingertips, home to all kinds of creatures ripe for the picking, and no ocean -no matter how great- could hold a candle to it. For the first morning in far too long, she stood beneath the boundless sky. Its denizens, unlike the fish who could remain submerged forever if they so chose, couldn’t help but descend every now and then. What they lacked in size they made up for in quantity. For her next heist, it was time for Ms. Fortune to nab some birds.

Filled with energy and motivated by appetite, Nadia got moving. She made her way back to Dirtmouth and began to ransack the ghost town’s hovels, turning everything upside-down as she searched for what she needed. Out of all the settlers who might colonize an uncharted territory like this in search of mineral wealth, there was one tradesman whose importance outweighed all others, whose continuous efforts made such townships possible: the humble farmer. Though Dirtmouth had been nothing but a shell of its former self for an age, the laborers whose agriculture once sustained it must have left traces behind, just like the weaver under whose dusty looms and discarded scraps Nadia slept last night. Eventually, the feral’s gamble paid off. The sight of old, rusted tools that looked like farming implements led her to a stash of seeds that hadn’t been looted. Neither the miners nor the bandits had the time -or perseverance- to try to coax new life from this thin, rocky soil. Better for them to rely on merchants and packed provisions. More practical for them, and more fortunate for Ms. Fortune.

Nadia grabbed a sack of seeds and scampered through town, a mischievous air about her. Wheat, carrot, potato, it didn’t matter what they were, just that they were easily visible from a distance. Next, the would-be hunter hunted for a good spot. She needed a place where nobody would be likely to blunder in and ruin her plans. Before she could find such a place, though, she found her path obstructed by a towering mountain of muscle crowned by a fiery red mane. Nadia stared up at Ganondorf for a brief moment. He looked…groggy. If not for the shortening of his hair, he’d probably have a serious case of bedhead. The thought made Nadia smile. As scary the big guy could be when raging in battle, he was still human at the end of the day. “Good morning!” she chirped, her cheerfulness dialed up to eleven in an effort to burn through the warlord’s gloom like sunlight through morning mist. “How’s Dirtmouth treatin’ ya? You know, we’ve been underground so long I just about forgot what the sun was. But then it dawned on me!” That one left her cackling, whether it improved -or soured- Ganondorf’s mood.”

“I just got back from the big mining camp,” she continued. You know me, just can’t ‘mine’ my own business.” She winked. “Met this walrus guy there, you’d probably like him. When it comes to blacksmithing, he’s super e-fish-ient.” After reading the room a little, Nadia decided to tone down the puns. Ganondorf had just one thing on his mind: his next meal. When he asked her about food, she hoisted her seed bag over her shoulder. “Well, funny you should ask! I was just about to go snag myself some grub, and I don’t mean beetle larva. With these bad boys, I’m gonna catch me some birds. You want in on this?”

To such a large man the average bird must seem like no more than a crumb, but when faced with an empty stomach, even crumbs were preferable. The two set out together, quickly finding a stretch of relatively flat land by a cliff near Dirtmouth where more plants than usual seemed to cluster. Ganondorf used his strength to churn the earth, disturbing the soil and hopefully flushing out bugs. Nadia then scattered the bait she’d collected, hoping that the birds would know that poorly-planted farmland meant a smorgasbord of tasty seeds. The two hid themselves nearby, Nadia’s eagerness practically infectious, despite the resiliency of Ganondorf’s immune system. With surprising and refreshing speed, the ploy actually began to work. Golden finches were the first on the scene, flitting around with remarkable speed to snag the choicest morsels. These birds, tiny and very flighty, filled Nadia with disappointment, but the catgirl’s bad mood didn’t last long. Soon black king pigeons showed up. Plump, meaty, and rather bold, they focused on the feast more than on potential threats, allowing the hunters to make their move.

This was the tricky part, since the two hadn’t prepared a trap and neither could claim ranged attacks to be their strong suit. Luckily, the two managed to come to a quick consensus. When the time came, Ganondorf popped up and hurled Nadia, who’d tucked herself into the fetal position, like a ball. She used Charge and became a streak of lightning that blasted through the thickest crowd of pigeons. When fried, they immediately poofed into smoke, essentially exploding into raw drumsticks. The other birds took flight in an instant, the finches first off the block, and without delay the Moblin archers opened fire. Their clumsy shots weren’t terribly effective, but they downed a couple pigeons, and with two hungry adventurers every morsel counted. Nadia and Ganondorf hurried to collect the meat, which remained remarkably clean despite touching the ground. “Huh. Well, somethin’ somethin’ gift horse, right?” As they worked, the call came in from Kamek to meet up at the Stag Station. It surprised her to learn that the team was missing a mask piece, and it surprised her even more to find out that the others had come up with some kind of magical solution. “Okay, yeah. We’re on our way. Me and Big G got some fresh supplies, and we didn’t ‘fowl’ it up!” With the last of the meat in hand (metaphorically), the team turned to head that way.

The deluxe camping set shared by the Seekers featured a spit roast, among other cooking implements, so when the scattered members of the team navigated back through Dirtmouth, they could follow the savory aroma of roasting pigeon. While Nadia wasn’t any better of a cook than anyone else, and nobody could furnish the meal-in-progress with seasonings or spices, the meat smelled very promising. While it roasted, Nadia investigated the other’s findings, her eyes only lingering on the Constrained Heart. “Huh,” she murmured, noting the rune-inscribed golden arc that traced its side as she pulled the Ripened Heart from her bag. “It’s kinda like mine. I could make heart puns about it all day, but this thing’s no joke. Saved my butt a couple times already.” Her tall tales of being unkillable had been sorely tested lately, and it had taken a few extra jolts of healing to keep those yarns spinning. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any mask pieces to offer them. “Eh, it’s the shiny stuff that gets my attention. Call it a ‘farce’ of habit.” She glanced at the simulacrum, an object that seemed simultaneously futuristic and archaic. “If that thing lets us skip another leg of this trip though, it’s good as gold.”

Once everyone had gathered, both orders of business could conclude. The meat of the black king pigeons was dense, flavorful, and immensely satisfying. With only a few slices left of days-old pizza, the fowl was a welcome alternative, though naturally everyone else could wait until Nadia and Ganondorf had their fill. Meanwhile, the gathered fragments socketed together cleanly, forming two whole masks and two thirds of a third one. That last mask seemed to be missing its lower section, but when the team’s magical experts carefully applied the simulacrum, the artifact assembled itself into an exact copy of the missing piece. At last, all three keys were in the Seekers’ hands.

“Well, that’s everything, right?” Nadia grinned, full of pep. “Now we just gotta get back to that big black egg where we found you, G.” The team’s tour of the Under (or a small part of it, at least) would conclude right where it began. There was just one glaring issue in the Seekers’ plan, since the region directly beneath them lacked a Stag Station of its own.

“So…how do we get down the Chasm this time?”

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg

By the time Gru finished, the cheesemonger was quite out of breath. Even if his rats were the ones who hauled him around the Clanhold’s outlying farms, collectively doing all the physical labor, Gru had been working hard. He’d begun discussion after discussion at a disadvantage, trying to balance out negotiation and ingratiation as he strove to make the smartest use of his money. As much as his business needed milk, he could not afford to settle for poor-quality ingredients, nor ones on the precipice of expiration, nor ones that failed to meet his standards for hygiene. His morning had become a balancing act of elephantine (or given the circumstances, perhaps even mûmakil-ine) proportions, keeping track of names and locations, exact quantities, quality evaluations, probable shelf life, and of course, money. As always Gru was extremely exacting with his funds, deducting each expenditure from his overall total in his ledger with meticulous attention to detail. One miscalculation and he could unwittingly spend his bottom dollar–or worse, spend money he no longer had. Going into the red while betting on a future bonanza was a risky proposition at the best of times, but in the land of the Dinnin, debt could be worse than a death sentence.

After what felt like hours rushing back and forth through the miserable heat, Gru finally shut himself up in the Chuck Wagon to take a much-needed, well-deserved break. His rats accompanied him, either in the wagon’s rooms or their dedicated habitat in the ‘attic’, shielded from the desert’s scorching sun. Gru refilled his water bottle from a spigot on the same custom tank that his rats drank from, then took a deep sip, noting that his stores were getting a little low. While the Caravan did offer a communal water source, the cheesemonger much preferred to have his own private supply. On one hand, it was only fair. Between himself and his breathtaking abundance of rats, after all, the Chuck Wagon’s usage outstripped the vast majority of Pilgrims by a large margin. On the other hand, that meant that nobody else could threaten his supply, and in the case of an emergency, he would be self-sustaining. Of course, he expected that water would come at a premium in the desert, and while his careful calculations ensured that enough money remained for emergencies like a water shortage, he could no longer spend frivolously. Not until the cash started rolling in.

For anyone else in the business, that moment would have been a long way off. Cheese took a great deal of time, so much so that it could be weeks before even an inferior product could be considered finished. Gru, however, was no ordinary cheesemaker. While the others went off into the Clanhold for sightseeing and adventure, he planned to start work right away. By the time the others returned, there would be new cheeses waiting to tickle their taste buds. Not long after Gru caught his breath, he received his first knock on the door. The milk had begun to arrive. It was time to unseal the vats, lay out the cheesecloth, uncork the rennet, leaf through the recipes, and bring out the curd cutters. After so many damnable days spend idle, just twiddling his thumbs while his stocks slowly (or in certain cases, quickly) dwindled, Gru was more than ready to get busy.

As always, the first phase involved nothing but genuine cheesemaking skill, be it in processing the raw materials himself, or directing his crews of rats to maximize throughput. With several batches ongoing at any one time, this involved almost as much juggling as all the acquisition Gru went through earlier, but this time the cheesemonger was in his element. No bad attitudes, no strange customs, no wheeling and dealing, and no balancing the books; just practicing his craft alongside the critters he cherished most. Compared to dealing with people, this felt far simpler, almost relaxing even. Seeing his creatures go about their business brought him a remarkable amount of joy, as well. For the most part his rats did just as he told them, his orders relayed through his four most prized (and intelligent) pets, but sometimes his darlings displayed such a familiarity with their tasks that Gru could swear they were actually developing skills and honing their craft.

Once the creation process had finished, the rest was up to time as the cheeses either soaked in brine, or got transferred over to the Chuck Wagon’s dry room to age on its shelves. This was the point at which a normal cheesemonger would need to play the waiting game, and yet, Gru’s skill was such that he could age his products at speeds that beggared belief. Incredible? Certainly. Unnatural? Well, no need to sensationalize. It was only natural that those ignorant of natural science would look at its products and assume magic, and who knew anything about mycology? Who could say what was possible, or impossible? Only Gru.

World of Light

Deep Ground - the Cornice

Level 6 Goldlewis (151/60) Level 5 Sandalphon (77/50)
Blazermate, Susie, and Roland’s @Archmage MC, Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Geralt and Zenkichi’s @Multi_Media_Man, Sakura and Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Pit’s @Yankee, Roxas’ @Double, Giovanna
Word Count: 2920

The appearance of a Consul did not take Sandalphon by surprise, but it was hardly something that she or the others could take in stride. With only the appearance of that ominous floating hand as foreshadowing, the Seekers found themselves confronted by one of the World of Light’s hidden masters, some of them for the first time. She herself had seen Y face to face, as it were, just last night, but in some ways it still didn’t feel real. Generally, the various ills that plagued mankind could not be attributed to any one individual, instead being complex and often interconnected societal or systemic issues. That was why suffering proved so hard to quash, as she knew all too well. Here and now, though, she could meet the eyes of a man who’d orchestrated countless plots, stoking the flames of war with lives treated like chaff. It wouldn’t be unrealistic to call him a root of evil. This was a special occasion, and it offered a rare opportunity.

So why couldn’t she pull the trigger?

It made no sense to indulge a villain in conversation. Their words were poison, and any stalling for time could invite extra complications. Last night, she put an ether bolt in Jena Anderson mid-speech, interrupting her monologue. Right now, though, Sandalphon kept still. The fate of Akira Howard still lived in her memory–the suddenness and completeness of her annihilation as the Consul pulled her into his vortex. The archangel told herself that she was merely being logical; if her preemptive shot was statistically unlikely to eliminate the threat, singling herself out for his ire would be a needless risk. At the same time, though, she felt uncertain. Was this…fear? Surely not. Could her fusions really have affected her that much?

Either way, Y didn’t give anyone much chance to focus on him. Instead he called in reinforcements, and not just any reinforcements. The sight of Akira Howard alive and well shocked Sandalphon, but the archangel quickly realized that this -none of these- were her. Just copies, produced through artificial means like cars on an assembly line. And there were lots of them. As more clones climbed, leaped, or simply fell from their pods, Sandalphon quickly counted the glowing red containers along the hallway’s walls. Six pods per row, four rows per section, three sections per side…if every one contained a combat-ready clone, the Seekers were looking at around a hundred and fifty enemy combatants. And though her negligible red matter contamination meant that she couldn’t see them, she expected that any Neuron officer would come with a legion. The legatus devices strapped to their left forearms all but confirmed it. Sandalphon gripped her staff and steeled herself. This was going to be rough.

When the team moved to engage the clones, Giovanna led the charge, with Goldlewis not far behind. Since many of the clones had already switched their x-batons to blaster mode, the melee fighters were forced to forge through a punishing bombardment of laser shots, all much weaker than the ether bolts fired by Sandalphon’s gunstaff but far more numerous. The legios equipped with Bow Legions seemed happy to remain at a distance, charging up powerful light arrows or raining down flurries of bolts. Still, they were only an annoyance compared to the rest. Once he closed the distance Goldlewis went whole hog, leaving huge bruises and breaking bones with each titanic swing of his coffin. He could fight a whole lot better than these clones, and his enormous height and weight difference gave him a huge advantage, but his enemies’ legions more than made up for it.

Right away Goldlewis wound up fighting tooth and nail to work his way past the legions, which barely registered his weightest blows while plastering him with wounds in return, in the hopes of taking down their masters. With every exchange, however, he found his efforts confounded by some new and dangerous ability. Arm Legions could unleash lightning-quick barrages of punches, fling off explosive bolts from their fingers, grab him, or merge their arms into cannons. Sword Legions could send ethereal swordblades twirling up and down their chains, or execute precision strikes that could cut attacks short. More than once they tried to sever the chain Goldlewis used to wield his coffin like a flail, but luckily the solid metal held. Beast Legions were not only vicious fighters, but also capable of letting off projectiles, tornadoes, or mind-numbing howls. Axe Legions were the worst of all, able to put up barriers to protect their masters or leave explosive axeheads in the ground. And naturally, all of them could bind him and give themselves a free second or two to whale on him with their bludgeons. The clones’ bag of tricks kept putting him on the back foot, and when the veteran gave an inch, his enemies took a mile.

Protected against the gunners thanks to Zenkichi’s Rakukaja, Sandalphon watched the situation closely as she cycled between offense and support on a continuous, precise rotation. Against one clone, legion or not, any Seeker could triumph easily. Against two, they could certainly manage. Three was where it started to get shaky, and it hardly stopped there. Things looked sustainable at first, with many team members racking up a few kills, or even seizing the chance to power up. Midna strove to even the odds as things escalated, and together Sakura and Karin fought expertly. The reality was, though, that everyone was taking damage, and the situation only got worse as new clones arrived to take the place of those that fell or tired. Blazermate could handle emergencies as they came up, but Sandalphon found herself using her healing skills soon after she built the requisite SP. She changed her focus to getting as many bodyshots as possible to charge her skills faster. As the fight went on, wave after wave of healing radiated outward like divine ripples. As long as she and Blazermate kept it up, the Seekers had a chance–and a certain somebody knew it.

After showing Pit that it would take a lot more than a few measly arrows to send him packing, Y had watched the battle dispassionately from behind, his arms crossed. Master Hand floated overhead, silent and practically motionless. Despite a strong start from the Seekers, the Consul could see the balance slowly shifting in his favor. In order to expedite the process, though, he needed to sever the intruders’ lifeline.

“Officers,” he called out imperiously. “Prioritize the enemy medics. The blue support droid, and the tall woman in white.”

With no will of their own, the clones obeyed. Some immediately sent their legions after the healers, then used their partners to yank their chains and fly in after them. Once close, they attacked with their x-batons in gladius mode for the most damage. Sandalphon was beset within seconds, taking a flying kick to the stomach that almost knocked her over. As she fought to right herself, three legios attacked her at once alongside their monstrous phantoms. She tried to leverage her range advantage, striking with her gunstaff and defending herself with razor wires, but the archangel could hardly fight against foes she could neither touch nor see. Even using Vault to leap upward failed as a Beast Legion locked its jaws around her ankle and dragged her back down to the ground. Meanwhile, the clones with Bow Legions zeroed in on Blazermate to shoot her out of the air. Worst of all, the teammates that hastened to the pair’s aid would be punished for their heroism as packs of clones up to a half-dozen strong rushed to blindside them.

The sight of the Seekers’ struggle made Y snicker. Singling out the healers, even if it cost him some troops, had been the right move. Once they went down, their allies would all fall like dominos, each death increasing the burden on those that remained until even the strongest amongst them had no choice but to buckle beneath the weight. “Now you begin to see. You were doomed the moment you chose to oppose me. To oppose progress.”

Just a few moments after the Consul said this, his gaze shifted past the fighting, to a lone figure racing down the hall. Confused, he leaned forward and squinted to verify what he was seeing, impossible though it was. After another moment, however, he couldn’t deny what his eyes were telling him. It was Hayato Howard, the hotshot rookie officer who’d been his favorite pawn right up until last night. Caught in the crossfire between the Alpha helicopter and Jena Apotheosis, he’d given his life to make sure the terrorist-turned-monstrosity had been destroyed. Or so it seemed. “Officers!” Y called out again. “Stop that man!”

A squad of clones waiting for their turn at the back of the crowd turned to engage Hayato. The policeman slowed down, a look of horror on his face as he beheld his sister’s face, worn by faded copies running his way to attack. After a moment he shook his head, composing himself, and summoned his Sword Legion to take them on. Blue and red legions clashed in a flurry of sparks and heavy metal, blade against blade. Hayato’s took first blood with a wheeling downward slash, prompting a heavy cross-cut as his legion recovered. Before it could be hit, Hayato pulled his partner toward him, then hurled it right back the next second. It struck with a dual-bladed uppercut as its opponent recovered, flinging the red Sword Legion into the air. That opened the way for an Arrow Legion to zoom forward in a corkscrew dive, then finish with a point-blank arrow blast. After shielding itself, the blue legion pulled Hayato over, who used its arms as a springboard to somersault forward and come down with a crushing gladius blow. He planted his weapon’s tip and used it for leverage to launch a kick into the Arrow Legion’s chest.

The next second, an Arm Legion snatched Hayato out of the air, punched him in the gut, then tossed him up for a two-handed smash. Instead the young man executed a Perfect Call, stunning his attacker as his Sword Legion burst out of him. It whirled around him in a diagonal upward slice, followed by both swinging one another over their heads for a quick chain of overhead smashes. Wasting no time, a Beast Legion lunged at him again and again, but on the third near-miss a Perfect Dodge allowed Hayato to strike back. His partner lashed out like a spinning top against the Beast Legion while he unleashed an acrobatic baton combo on the legionis, and as their assault culminated, the Axe Legion and its controller attacked together. They went on the offensive while protected by rotating red shields, but Hayato commanded his Sword Legion to summon rotating blue blades with Round Sword, and together they beat through their foes’ armor to knock them both back. The next moment all five closed in again, but before they could mob him, Hayato ordered his Legion to use Auto-Bind. It flew out in a circle and ensnared the whole group, chaining them to the ground, before spreading out flat on the floor and spinning forward like a sawblade to take all five out.

Y narrowed his eyes, his attention no longer on the Seekers’ fight. “Hmph. Do you really think you can win?” At his command, even more clones broke off to engage Hayato. They attacked en masse, quickly overwhelming him and his legion, which vanished to recover. Hayato fought back, but it was a beatdown, and once the clones sent him rolling across the floor he could rise no higher than his knees, spitting out blood. As the facsimiles of his sister closed in to finish him, he gritted his teeth and made a vital decision. Grabbing the legion core that clicked and gyrated in the heart of his legatus, he yanked it out, hesitated for a split second, then jammed it into his own chest. Instantly a blinding blue light emanated from him, spreading across his body until it engulfed him completely. When the flare died down, a hulking being with long, disjointed claws and flowing hair stood there, neither human nor legion, but something in between.

Beneath his mask, the Consul’s lip curled. “Kill it!”

Instead the fusion lunged, so fast that it almost seemed to teleport. Its claws cleaved through a clone before she could call her Legion. As she fell to her knees, the fusion grabbed her head, lifted her, then bounced her off the ground and dispatched her with a kick. The others tried to fight back, but it wasn’t any use. The fusion unleashed a storm of energy scythes that hurtled through the air like boomerangs, slicing into his enemies, and after flinging them far and wide he threw himself forward in a berserk rage. With incredible speed and power he carved into the clone army, evening the playing field for the Seekers within moments. As the insurmountable pressure let up, they could rally and begin the fight anew. After staring in astonishment, Y realized that his certain victory was about to become a crushing defeat.

“Enough!” he yelled. Immediately, the remaining clones stopped fighting and scattered, fleeing from the Seekers to a safer distance. Hayato’s berserk energy came to a head just after as his legion fusion overloaded, reverting him back to human form. Goldlewis stood his ground with a white-knuckle grip still wrapped around his coffin’s chain, his heart pounding as he gasped for breath. Giovanna leaned on Rei for support as she made her way over, also panting. Though she felt the pain of her wounds more keenly than ever, Sandalphon held fast and worked another miracle, healing the team with Angelic Praise. Everyone watched the clones, and especially the Consul, with great suspicion. Nobody believed this was over for a second.

Y crossed his arms, scowling. “It seems you’re all very intent on causing us trouble. I can see why that fool S is so afraid of you. You’ve already slain several Guardians, after all. While their Consuls’ backs were turned, of course. H, X, M, L, A…none so much as lifted a finger to stop you, and now here you are, ready to destroy another Guardian.” He held his hand out dramatically. “Well, the buck stops here. I will not be disgraced like they were. Your misadventures end here!” The Consul snapped his fingers, and two of the Akira clones nearest to him turned to face one another. They lifted their x-batons, then violently struck one another’s necks, killing each other instantly.

All around the Seekers, the clones paired off and, with neither hesitation nor ceremony, executed one another. When they died, their spirits fused with their legions’, the ashes of their bodies corrupting into red matter. The fused spirits then began to fuse together themselves, becoming swollen red-black masses of vividly glowing red matter. “Now you’ll see the true inner workings of legionic fusion!” Y declared, spreading his arms. “Witness the door opening to the future of all humankind!”

Goldlewis gave a heavy sigh of resignation. “Why’s it always end up goin’ this way with these folks?”

“Hey, if we can hit whatever he becomes, I’d say that’s a step up,” Giovanna joked.

Y activated his vortex, vacuuming up not just the fused spirits, but a vast amount of the luminous green mako energy around him. The more he absorbed, the brighter his body shone, purple energy radiating outward from the glowing core in his chest. “Though I forsook my humanity and became Moebius, I have never forsaken my true goal: the salvation of mankind! And what better time than now, with the enemy at the doorstep and this world’s destructors before me? Behold! Within me, all will become one. Even you! A singular nexus of existence!”

The purple singularity detonated, destroying the bridge around him, and alongside the wreckage it began to fall downward into the giant reactor. Before it could fade into the vortex of green, however, the luminous purple resurged, and up from below rose a huge figure of ethereal, sinuous flesh, his three heads covered in enormous, multi-eyed masks like Y’s own, and his body interspersed by giant spurs of bone. As it arose, Master Hand disappeared, leaving just as suddenly as it came. That left the team alone beneath the glare of twelve giant red eyes as the Consul’s powered-up Moebius form let out a skull-rattling roar. The Soul of Ambition was ready to fight.

“...That ain’t right,” Goldlewis muttered.

”Are you ready, Seekers of Light? To become as gods!?”

Immediately, a solar sniper round from Sandalphon’s Eye of Sol slammed into one of his eyes in a burst of flame. “See,” Giovanna said nonchalantly as she assumed her fighting stance. “We can hit him. This isn’t so bad.” The archangel did not reply, but a fleeting smile passed across her face as she clicked a full magazine into place, then crouched down to better aim her next shot. Once handed his minigun by the UMA, Goldlewis spun up its barrel, and with a scowl Hayato switched his x-baton to blaster mode. It was time to bring Y’s delusions to an end.

The Under - Dawn in Dirtmouth

Level 13 Ms Fortune (81/130)
The Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Ganondorf’s @Double
Word Count: 1804

After stepping back out from Sectonia’s chosen hut into the night, Nadia stumbled, her knees almost giving out beneath her. She’d tried to keep herself as cheery as ever during the haircut, but in truth the feral was bone tired. It had taken more than she wanted to admit just to stand up again, and now even staying upright proved to be a challenge. Her stomach rumbled, giving voice to her powerful hunger, but Nadia knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she’d pass out well before she got the chance to choke anything down. Groaning, she pushed herself forward, retracing her steps toward the dwelling she’d claimed. Listlessly she watched Chucho playing around in front of her as she went, staring at the tireless specter as he chased the mists swirled and scattered by the chill nighttime breeze. The little guy really did warm her heart, but she regretted that she couldn’t curl up beside the warmth of a live dog. At least she probably wouldn’t have a hard time falling asleep tonight, no matter how cold it was. Within a couple minutes, the feral drunkenly lurched into her chosen hovel, clumsily barred the door behind her, and collapsed into bed. Too tired to figure out her designated sleeping bag, she wrapped herself in it, piling up the old tarps and tapestries of the long-gone weaver. Seconds later, Nadia Fortune was asleep at last.

---

Though Nadia fell into a deep sleep, so far gone that it would have taken a thunderclap directly overhead to rouse her, her slumber that night couldn’t exactly be called peaceful. She tossed and turned all night, never waking, but never at ease for long. As much as the cat burglar yearned for sweet oblivion, an uneventful skip straight to morning sunshine and restful rejuvenation, her night was plagued by dreams. They lacked consistency and coherency, making little sense to begin with and then shifting unpredictably. Like playing a card game whose rules she didn’t know, Nadia kept getting dealt bad hands. Stitched-together plots, nonsensical scenes, and amalgamated characters left her baffled, and just when she began to get immersed, it would be time for another shuffle. By the time Nadia finally woke up to rays of early sunshine peeking through her domicile’s windows, she remembered nothing.

It took her a moment to recall just where she’d gone to bed the night before, in fact. This was Dirtmouth, the hollow husk of a town where she and the others ended up after the Metro, and where they’d managed to drag themselves after days in the Under. She rubbed her eyes as she thought about their trip. Out of every new acquaintance they made while underground, only one person remained with them: Ganondorf. They’d traded Rubick for him, essentially, and lost Omori along the way. Had that been a good trade? Ganondorf was a real wild card, and he didn’t seem to like her very much, but at least he actually did stuff. That’s what counts, she supposed, but hopefully he’d end up liking her at some point along the way. That was a secondary concern, though, because today was the big day. Again. She couldn’t afford to roll over and go back to sleep. With all the mask fragments gathered (or so she thought, at least), the time had come to topple a Guardian.

How many days since the last one? After the Orphan, Blue Team enjoyed a day of rest and relaxation. After that, a day of travel, first sailing through the pirate-infested Sea of Serendipity and then rattling through Nyakuza Metro. Had they really fallen into the Chasm, fought through the Womb, and ended up in the Home of Tears that day too? Crazy. Then another full day in the Home of Tears, and yesterday had been a tour of different Under locales from the Hive to Hollow Bough, toppling bosses like bowling pins. So, four days. Realistically speaking, that was incredible progress. Luck really seemed to be on the Seekers’ side, guiding them on the right path. Of course, each day did feel rather like a Herculean labor. Down in the Under, she’d completely lost track of time. It could’ve been a year, for all she knew, and in some ways it sure felt like it. But now the time had come, and if Nadia Fortune was going to help save the worlds today, she needed to get some food in her, pronto.

Nadia stretched her stiff, creaky body, popping bones to relieve pressure and get herself moving again. After that she donned her coat and scampered out into the glorious sunlight. Now that was a sight for sore eyes, her inability to stare at the sun notwithstanding. Whatever all those people did deep underground couldn’t possibly be called living, not without the source of all life shining down one’s skin, filling the soul with the power of stellar radiation. She’d spent so long squinting in the dark that it was almost blinding out here, but she adjusted quickly, and once she could see Nadia began her search for food.

Already the grand, fantastical landscape of the Chasm was buzzing with activity. Crews of miners had emerged along with the sun to start the day’s work, filling carts with fragments of magic-infused minerals like condessence crystals, noctilucous jade, titanite, and smithing stones. Even the hardiest workers needed to eat, and wherever the most workers could be found, Nadia figured she’d find the grub. She jogged across the Chasm, using her climbing and jumping skills to take more direct paths than most could hope for, and found her way to the biggest camp. Reeves Quarry was where most of the miners -and their hauls- came to be taken care of, divided into living quarters and on-site processing. Juxtapositioned against the workers here, Nadia stood out quite a bit, but everyone was too busy -or otherwise occupied- to give the catgirl anything more than a surly side-eye. She followed the sound of a booming voice toward the foot of the big building, surprised to find herself crunching along a path of quickly-melting snow on the way, and spotted what looked like a big cart above the heads of the crowd. When she climbed onto a stack of stone cubes, however, she realized her mistake.

This wasn’t a cart, it was a sled. It was the size of a small building, and judging by the smoke spiraling upward from its chimney, it possessed its own mobile forge. Instead of suitably huge dogs it featured a team of oversized snow golems tethered to the front by leads, the movement of which across the earth left trails of snow that the huge sled could glide on. That voice she heard before, bellowing for hundreds of feet in every direction, belonged to a mountain of a man who could only be described as a walrus with legs, complete with tusks. Right away she realized that this smith wasn’t selling food, but she stayed a minute to watch anyway–Muk’tuk was putting on quite a show.

“And this! One of my very finest cauldrons!” Muk’tuk hoisted what must have been an impossible heavy turquoise basin with just one gloved flipper, using the other for emphasis. “It came to me in a fit of PURE INSPIRATION! That night, I could hear my ancestors speaking to me. Through my MUSCLES!” He flexed his huge tattooed arm, his bicep bulging through the outer layer of fat. “And they told me: seek DEPTH! A cauldron made in the merfolk style, forged of abyssalite! Every detail, lovingly engraved. You see, it looks like a FISH!” He held it sideways above his head like a priceless relic so that his customer could see it properly. “And for my people, you understand, fish are special! We LOVE them! If the ocean is the cradle of life, then this is the mother of all cauldrons!”

Muk’tuk managed to make the sale just before the customer ran out of patience, raising his product’s price by extolling its craftsmanship and using his sheer enthusiasm to seal the deal. After a bit more haggling in order to sell off some furniture, cookware, and tools, the crowd dispersed, and the walrus let out a sigh of relief. “Hooh! That’s all of them…for now!”

Nadia sidled up to the sled, making no bones about how impressed she was. “Quite the silver tongue you’ve got there, big guy!”

The artisan chuckled, his belly shaking. “You flatter me! I have full faith in my products, each and every one. Not just as commodities, but as works of art! I merely try to open my clients’ eyes to their virtues!” Though Nadia couldn’t see the smile in his eyes thanks to some very scruffy eyebrows, the upturn in his mustache clued her in. “What can I do for you, my feline friend?”

Nadia shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t need any works of art right now actually, I was dying for something to eat and just followed the crowd.”

“Dying, you say? Goodness!” Muk’tuk made a big show of concern in a joking manner. “Well, we can’t have that now! Wait right there!” He disappeared into his sled. After a moment, he appeared with a squat, cylindrical can, which he extended to Nadia. “Here! I don’t barter, but when clients come angling for a discount, they bait their hooks with fish! As it turns out, there CAN be too much of a good thing, hahaha!”

Nadia accepted the big can, her eyebrows raised both at its weight and its price. “For free? You spoil me!”

“Think nothing of it!” Muk’tuk raised his mitten and tweaked his mustache slyly. “Or rather, think of Muk’tuk, next time you need something made! Wood, metal, and bone most of all, it matters not. All merchants need money, but for me, the relationship is more important! Build a strong enough ‘ship, and we can conquer even the roughest waters!”

The feral grinned. “Well, I’m sold! If my friends need anything made or fixed up before we head down, I’ll send ‘em your way!”

After waving goodbye, Nadia ran over to the nearest corner she could find. There, away from prying eyes, she wolfed down the fish, devouring every last morsel. Not her typical breakfast fare, but she was starving, and this helped take the edge off. “Hah…” she breathed, pleased but hardly full. With such a big day ahead of her, nothing short of a feast would do.

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

As much as it pained him to acknowledge it, the reality that faced Lewa was one where nobody knew much of anything. They couldn't even hazard a guess; by themselves, the only thing the otherworlders gathered here could do was reiterate the circumstances that brought them here. Everything, it seemed, rested on the little girl who'd somehow managed to channel the power of a mystical entity called Lavielle, referred to as a 'goddess'. To Lewa, the way the others referred to this being made him think of the Great Spirit, Mata Nui. Perhaps if his home had Mata Nui, other lands had great spirits of their own. Whatever power the little one invoked, however, had clearly gone, and it left her in a nonfunctional state. The idea of waiting in agonizing uncertainty until morning took the wind from Lewa's sails, but it wasn't like he had much choice. Better late than never, after all.

Accepting this state of affairs meant that Lewa had some time to kill. More than anything right now, he wanted to get to know this world of organics better. While he'd been forced to quickly graduate past the phase of mouth-agape befuddlement, the fact remained that he lacked even the most cursory understanding of how beings like these operated. That meant a definite possibility for awkward conversation, but that was the lot he'd drawn.

Before he could drum up his first question, however, one of the others offered him one instead. Sanae seemed interested in him and his homeland, practically alight with curiosity, and Lewa saw no reason to deny her. Unfortunately, she did happen to touch on one subject that was a little personal for him: the matter of a miniature creature controlling him.

"Like a krana!?" Lewa's eyes grew wide. "No, no, I am the one in control, and only me. Never again something else!" He shuddered, trying to push the thought from his mind. "Ah, forgive me. Bad thought-time. Er...to answer your question, I think-believe that you're mistaken. A machine is just a 'thing', yes? A cleverly-made metal contraption that can be run-operated. Something like a Boxor, which matoran wield-use for protection. We made have protodermis armor like ussal crabs have shells, but we are all alive, thanks to Mata Nui!" Lewa closed his eyes and breathed in deep, filling his lungs, then exhaled.

One beat later, he launched into more explanation. "That's the name of our Great Spirit, you see. And our island paradise-home is named the same in his honor. It is divided into six unique-different wahi, each home to a matoran element-tribe. Mata Nui has the snowy ice-slopes of Ko-wahi, the maze-tunnels of Onu-wahi, the rocky canyons of Po-wahi, the tropical shore-waters of Ga-wahi, volcanic Ta-wahi, and of course, my own home-land. Le-wahi, a great jungle of matchless beauty. There I worked tirelessly to safe-keep my people from all harm. My four brothers Tahu, Pohatu, Onua, and Kopaka, and my sister Gali, look after the others." He crossed his arms and looked around, clearly expecting everyone -not just Sanae- to be impressed.

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

Once the fliers ascended above the canopy to get a lay of the land, the rescue team could start heading in the right direction. Luckily, between the initial duo's copious amount of swerving and backtracking, they hadn't ultimately wandered that far from the village itself, so the return journey was mercifully quick. As much as Lewa cherished his time in nature's beauteous forests, he was happy to leave this one -not to mention the rainfall- behind for now. Maybe they could become better acquainted later, but at the moment he needed to see his duty through. Part of him also hoped, and rather fervently at that, that in the aftermath of the battle, the entity responsible for bringing him and the others here would consider their task fulfilled and see fit to send them back. At the same time though, Lewa couldn't shake a dreadful premonition: that this run of bad luck had only just gotten started.

He and Rayne arrived with the missing villagers without much fanfare. How many poor sufferers had they already rescued from their hamlet's rubble, after all? When a fretful Marcus appeared, though, the unbridled relief and tears of joy he unleashed made everything more than worth it. Lewa just watched, beaming, as the members of the reunited family held one another close. Considering all the death that hung over this place, it was a small and bittersweet victory, but Lewa took pride in it nonetheless. These people deserved the comfort of hope, and to see their faint flickers of hope rewarded.

With that business concluded, the stage was set for the otherworlder's not-so-grand reunion. More or less everyone who'd been spirited away from their homes to that crumbling church were now here, and as the conversation began they could take what little shelter was available. Lewa couldn't get soaked like the others could, what with their permeable outer membranes and abundance of cloth garments, but being inundated in another toa's element didn't exactly thrill him. Breezy treetops, howling cliffs, and the boundless sky were his domain; swimming and getting rained on were better left to Gali. "I wish my toa-sister was here," he murmured. Her wisdom was sorely needed. Thoughtful and empathetic to the point where their brother Onua once asked her if she could read minds, Gali was a moderating voice of reason that could provide clarity even in the most uncertain times. Lewa and the others could really use some clarity right now.

Rayne helped get things started by reiterating the situation, mostly for the benefit of the few new faces who'd appeared since the battle in the village. A number of people from disparate -in some cases, wildly disparate- worlds had all been brought here against their will by forces they didn't know for reasons they didn't fully understand. At least, that was how it seemed. The realization that three of the people here hailed from the same world took Lewa aback. Though, the three did seem to share a common thread. Small, slender, with female voices, and featuring strange, somewhat fanciful clothes and colors compared to the people of this town, who otherwise seemed to be the same species. Maybe everyone from their world was like that? Lewa struggled to see the meaning behind this coincidence. Maybe there was none. It was all quite frustrating.

These creatures were difficult for Lewa to fully read, but it seemed like something bad had happened. Well, didn't that just perfectly encapsulate everything from the moment the otherworlders arrived? He'd tried his best to help, but already the toa felt like he was getting nowhere. No closer to answers, or to the island paradise that needed him so dearly. "I'm hoping for some explanation myself," he chimed in after Youmu, arms crossed. "And also for whatever brought us here to show up, so that we can go back."

World of Light

Arahabaki

Level 6 Goldlewis (148/60) Level 5 Sandalphon (74/50)
Blazermate, Susie, and Roland’s @Archmage MC, Midna’s @DracoLunaris, Geralt and Zenkichi’s @Multi_Media_Man, Sakura and Karin’s @Zoey Boey, Pit’s @Yankee, Roxas’ @Double, Giovanna
Word Count: 1072

Once scattered by Arahabaki’s teleportation trap, the Seekers wound up on the very tips of the furthest branches of the vast subterranean computer network’s forked paths. Gradually, however, they’d worked their way inward, navigating their way past the trips and traps of the elevated maze. They pushed their way through the emergency response crews, getting ever closer to the towering pillar that dominated the area’s center. In its vicinity the different module chains coalesced as they routed into three main processing centers, where three quartets of the heroic intruders faced off against their stiffest competition yet by way of two Shinra Administration big shots, and a surprise interloper in the form of Senator Armstrong. Yet even they could not bring the Seekers’ story to an end. Though it took a lot out of the three teams, they claimed victory over some of the staunchest opponents that Midgar had to offer, and stepped onto the final set of bridges -these ones through tunnels of torii gates- to be conveyed toward Arahabaki’s final destination.

The three bridges converged at a large, trapezoidal module attached to the central column itself. Among the teams arriving there, the one in the worst shape by a country mile was Goldlewis, Zenkichi, Sakura, and Susie. With no team medic and only modest sustain at best, they’d been forced to slug it out with little more than their own sturdiness for survival, so Blazermate and Sandalphon were sights for sore eyes. Everyone in Midgar knew the name of Public Security’s head, but maybe nobody other than Zenkichi knew what Konoe was really capable of until today. First with the Zephyrus mech and then with his own two hands, Konoe had put his challengers through the wringer, and Goldlewis was only too happy to trudge on over to Blazermate for treatment. “Hoo, boy,” he breathed. “Outta everyone I figured we might run into on our way down, I did not bet on Konoe, lemme tell you what. Gave us a real lickin’.” He stretched out his shoulders as the medabot tended to his wounds. “Whew. Whatever that healin’ stuff is you got, it sure does a body good.”

Sandalphon hadn’t expected Konoe either, and while it sounded like her comrade’s quarter had a rough go of it, things hadn’t been much easier on her end. “We received a guest of honor as well. Rufus Shinra, here to finish what he started last night, perhaps.” She paused for a moment as she recalled the night’s events. “Come to think of it, we should be ready to engage with one or both Consuls at any point. I cannot imagine they will allow us to destroy their Guardian.”

“That’s what I’ve been wonderin’,” Goldlewis told her, his brow furrowed. “It was a Consul that told us the way down here to begin with. Dunno why, he sure seemed like the shit-stirrin’ type, but we’d be fools to write him off.”

With that, Sandalphon could agree. Normally she’d be more inclined to analyze after a fight to see what could be learned and optimized from the experience, but she figured that Rufus Shinra was a once-in-a-lifetime opponent. For now, then, she focused on what came next. The Worship Hall was extremely cluttered with technological equipment, all funneling toward a circular area in the module’s center. Countless nodes, prongs, and other doodads seemed to be arranged in a rough dome shape, strung together with braided cords and hanging circuit boards like talismans. Beyond lay a huge doorway covered by a bright blue wall of light that shone and sizzled like it was one hundred percent energy, and in the circle’s center -the most dramatic spot possible- sat one man that everyone ought to recognize by now. With that distinctive combination of fur-collared overcoat and silvery mask, together with the ears and tail of a jackal, Karen Travers was unmistakable. He was sitting in a meditative position, but by the time the Seekers approached, his deep red eyes were open.

“Karen,” Goldlewis muttered as he came to a stop at the head of the pack. “Wondered when we’d see ya again. You ain’t here for a fight, are ya?”

The Psych-OSF’s Septentrion First Class stood, stared for a moment, then shook his head. “...No.” When the Seekers seemed surprised, he decided to elaborate. “We’re here for the same thing, after all. The answer. The source. The secret behind the Administration’s power, and the instrument of this city’s subjugation. Once we have it, we’ll be able to set everything right. Back to how it should be.” He shrugged. “Besides. One against twelve? I don’t like those odds.”

Sandalphon narrowed in on one thing he said. “So it’s close, then? The Guardian?”

“Yes,” Karen replied, half-turning to look at the doorway. “So near, and yet, so far.”

Stepping forward, Goldlewis narrowed his eyes at the wall of light. “What’s this, then? The…we got told the way’s impassable.”

“You were told correct. Unless you happen to be one of very few VIPs, this wall will atomize you the minute you touch it.” Karen reached down and lifted a steel lockbox from where it sat behind him while he’d been meditating. Out of everyone here, only Sakura, Midna, and Roxas had seen this sturdy-looking box before, shackled to the corpse of Truman Zanotto before he turned to ash the night before. It had never been recovered; evidently it had found its way here.

Karen walked past Goldlewis toward the wall of light, then set the box down and sent it sliding across the floor with a kick. The veteran watched, baffled, as the lockbox slid closer, on a deadly collision course with the security field. Just before touching it, however, the wall blinked out. Just like that, the way was open, without Roxas even needing to try his luck.

Turning, Karen beckoned the Seekers. “After you.”

When the Seekers proceeded, Karen didn’t move to join them, instead watching them head in. Before passing him, Goldlewis paused to give him a skeptical stare. “What’s your angle, partner? You sounded mighty interested in whatever’s down there.”

Karen nodded, his arms crossed. “That’s true. However, you all have a better shot of getting there than I. Backup is on the way, so I’ll wait until then.”

That didn’t really satisfy Goldlewis, but he knew he and his team couldn’t afford to delay. “If you say so.”

Dystopiascape

The Salvage corps detected it first, though for a little while the discovery preceded a hasty check and more thorough recheck of their equipment. Nobody, after all, wanted to believe what they saw. Yet the long-range scanners did not lie. Lead Engineer Clarke immediately began to make some calls, starting with the Sector 07 militia, and the order went out to start getting ready. Those in the know tried to keep things quiet in a vain attempt to suppress the panic, but they knew better than everywhere that there was no salvaging this situation, and word quickly got out. Within five minutes, sirens were ringing out across the slums to signal an all-too-familiar state of emergency. Within ten, citizens throughout sectors 06 and 07 were sounding the alarm in Deep-Paris and Detroit. Up above, the police and guards of the plates must have surely heard the terrible din, but no soldiers were dispatched. Up in the City of Glass, Vandelay Campus lay dormant, crippled, a tough nut to crack thanks to all the robots that lingered there but unable to take any action. To the east, Detroit lay defenseless without DespoRHado, its cyborg remnants scattered and its android corps vanished. What remained of Psych-OSF and Peace Preservation lay quietly in wait. No help would be coming.

The people of the undercities began to act, disorganized and frenzied by fear. Some hunkered down, taking shelter wherever they could. They prayed that out of every rock that would soon be overturned, their enemies might happen to overlook theirs. Some took up arms and rallied, heading to the undercity walls with all the weapons, armor, and vehicles they had. This was the rainy day that every prepper had saved for. But most of the citizens fled, taking to the streets en masse with their families to flee northward however. Cars and buses got overrun, train stations swamped. People were trampled. It was chaos.

It wasn’t long before people could begin to make visual confirmation on the enemy force. The Machines were marching from the desolate Valley of Ruin beneath a stormy sky, less a rain and more a flood. Compared to this army, the force dispatched two days ago looked like cannon fodder, assembled from tin cans and children’s toys. For starters, there were plenty of robotic beasts, the same sort seen -and typically avoided- in the flooded district, from apelike Clamberjaws to terrifying Widemaws to vicious Snapjaws, along with the towering Tallnecks that sustained the Machines’ communication network. There were plenty of bipeds, shooters, and life-sucking noxin drones, but today the Machines were fielding a plethora of new units, practically alien in appearance and heavily armed. Primarily quadrupedal, these war machines came in two varieties. White and blue war machines like Loudmouth, Halo, Spread, and Duelring featured built-in shields and tech weapons so futuristic that their function was difficult to make out. Meanwhile, the black and red models were biomechanical-looking monstrosities with bloodthirsty behavior and strange gimmick weapons, like Cucumber, Sunbather, Scarf, and Porter. Even among those horrors, there seemed to be elites. Like Chatterbox, a titan with the stance and muscles of a gorilla, and Sinister, an aerial weapons platform capable of threatening Midgar’s plates. On spiderlike legs strode a mobile fortress in the shape of a gigantic clock. And through it all plodded not one but three immense Engels, their saw-arms swinging in anticipation of destroying Midgar brick by brick.

Eventually, the Machines’ march stopped in front of Midgar, and from the ranks strode three humanoid figures. Two of them looked simultaneously very similar but very different, twin brothers with contrasting styles. Adam and Eve walked out ahead of their brethren with confidence, the former wearing fancy clothes and the latter half-dressed in the garb of a berserker. Other than their looks, the brothers had one thing in common: that they didn’t look at all like robots. That couldn’t be said for the man who followed behind them, though. Half mummy and half machine, he strode with unblinking eyes and unwavering purpose. Never once deviating from the path ahead.

In front of Midgar, the city’s defenders had gathered. Without the Administration’s support or DepoRHado’s muscle their numbers paled in comparison, but what they lacked in quantity they made up for in quality. Neuron’s finest were here, including Jin Wong, Alicia Lopez, Alan King, and Marie Wentz, led by Maximillian Howard. So too were the remnants of the Hermits and Zone 09, from Mudrock to Wind Chimes to Mudtooth, and not even Karl was missing this party. The bravest souls of Sector 07 were here, not just Isaac Clarke and the other scrappers but the militia as well, including Cloud, Tifa, Barrett, and Aerith. Even Clara and Svarog stood amongst them, ready to defend their new home. On the other hand were the plucky bunch of misfits fresh from Vandelay Campus: Chai, Peppermint, Macaron, and Korsica. A number of armed civilians joined them, interspersed with various heroes who’d come to lend their strength to Midgar’s defense. With little more than 808 and Hal’s drone around for support, this ragtag bunch stared down the Machine horde and its leaders, waiting for the inevitable.

Eventually, Cloud broke the silence, leveling the Buster Sword at the twins and their masked companion. “Well, say whatever you’re gonna, and let’s get on with this.”

“You’re definitely brave, throwing your lives away like this,” Adam remarked offhandedly. “I’m eager to see what makes you tick.”

His little brother Eve grinned wildly. “Well, what’re we waiting for? Let’s play!”

“Just a moment.” Nox spoke in a highly mechanical voice, not to mention a strong French accent. He stared at the gathering of heroes, then up at Midgar. “Last night, my noxins drained every drop of Wakfu from every living thing in this region, from the smallest mouse to the largest tree. After all these years, I finally have enough. I do not need your lives, and you need not throw them away. It is all inconsequential. When I succeed, none of this will have ever mattered. I will undo it all.” Nox paused, then sighed, hanging his head. “I know you don’t believe me. I just thought you should know that if you insist on dying, just how little it will matter.”

Chai stepped forward, standing beside Cloud with his scrap guitar raised. “Uh, not gonna lie, you’re preeetty scary! But if we’re trading ultimatums and all that, I guess you should know something too.” He grinned. “That you’re underestimating the people of Midgar.”

From within the army of defenders, a balding man in a green suit with purple hair stepped forward. “Now!”

Hundreds of eyes turned skyward as a huge number of darkly-dressed figures leaped from the Sector 07 plate high above. They hurtled downward through the air, then grabbed onto their pods to slow their falls and land around the defenders. YoRHa had arrived in all their glory, weapons at the ready and spearheaded by a handful of androids in Flight Units, with none other than 2B and 9S at the forefront. At the same time, the psychics with Transport powers embedded among the militia stepped forward, activating their abilities. Orange fields appeared in the air, and a moment later dozens of Psych-OSF defenders appeared from thin air. Yuito, Hanabi, Luka, Gemma, Kasane, Naomi, Arashi, Shiden, Kagero, Tsugumi, and all the rest had arrived, joined by Septentrions Second through Sixth Class: Fubuki, Sasha, Milla, Seto, and Kyoka. It was Crenshaw who enacted the final, desperate measure: a delivery straight from the heart of Supernatural Life, a squad of intelligent Other Weapons under the command of Peach.

Together they all formed a united front against the Machines, a lot beefier than the paltry resistance presented moments ago. Even still, Eve cackled with laughter. In a move rather similar to Chai, he magnetized a load of surrounding scrap to his body, creating a huge metal arm. “Bahahaha! Now THIS is more like it!”

“Oookay,” Chai muttered, still pretty overwhelmed. With his friends at his back, however, he wasn’t about to throw in the towel. “What do you say we take care of Mr. Shirtless?” he called over to Cloud.

The Soldier brandished his blade at Adam. Barret, Tifa, and Aerith stood ready to fight alongside him. “We’ll handle the fop.”

“Hmph,” Adam smiled, pushing up his glasses. “Then allow me to witness your deaths firsthand.”

“I’ll leave this to you two. I must conserve my energy.” With that, Nox teleported away, retreating to his mobile fortress. In his wake, man and machine clashed in a bid for Midgar’s future. The final battle of the Ever Crisis had begun.

Deep Ground

Inside Arahabaki’s core, the Seekers found a long, arduous descent through predominantly magitech facilities, a jumbled nest of sophisticated power stations (including more than one thrumming miniature reactor), laboratories, and workshops, winding every which way but ultimately leading downward. In response to the intrusion a lockdown had been enacted, so instead of any employees the Seekers found more of the turrets they’d encountered in Arahabaki and handfuls of easily-dispatched Vandelay robots. The road they took led them to not one but several lifts, all carrying them deeper underground. With no serious challenges in the team’s way, the tension seemed to mount, building up the further they got underground. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a sliding door opened to reveal a huge, dark hallway, lined on either side by row upon row of large, ominous red pods

Of course, that paled in comparison to what lay beyond the hallway. On the other side, the black and red gave way to overwhelming, brilliant green. There lay a circular room of incredible proportions, reaching much higher upward -and much, much further down- than the hallway itself, the whole thing filled with a staggering abundance of brilliant green energy, so thick in the air that one could practically taste it. “Is that…mako?” Goldlewis breathed, dumbfounded. Over the green void reached a long bridge that terminated at a large industrial facility, covered with tanks and pipes.

And as the Seekers approached the end of the long hall, an entity blipped into existence above the bridge. It was simple in appearance, yet oddly terrifying. Five curled fingers and a featureless white glove–to those who had seen it before, there was no mistaking it, nor what it represented. It was Master Hand.

Right afterward, a nebulous purple energy began to coalesce on the bridge in front of it, and a second later Consul Y warped in. Though his face was hidden, he gave off the distinct impression of furious indignation, as if utterly vexed by the fact that the Seekers had gotten this far. “...You got close, I’ll give you that,” he told the intruders after a moment. “Very close. You even took some of my best pawns. Replacing them will be tiresome. But I’m afraid this is checkmate.”

Just then, the pods (now mostly behind the Seekers) began to burst in quick succession, and from within dozens of women began to emerge. Some wore full armor, others no more than barebones undersuits, but all appeared to be exact copies of one another–not to mention the police officer that some might know as Akira Howard, with her short brown hair and severe expression. Goldlewis and Sandalphon both remembered seeing her die last night, however, shortly before the fight against Jena Apotheosis that also claimed her brother. Yet here she stood, several dozen of her at once in fact, and every single one of them held an X-baton like she’d been born with it. Not only that, but when they held out their hands, red legions of all kinds -barely visible to the Seekers- manifested beside them. These weren’t just cops, but legio, born and bred.

“Officers,” Y called out, raising his voice. “...Arrest them.”

The Under - Leaving Mercy Dreams

Level 13 Ms Fortune (78/130)
The Koopa Troop’s @DracoLunaris, Primrose and Therion’s @Yankee, Sectonia’s @Archmage MC, Ganondorf’s @Double
Word Count: 1803

After leaving the empty cell behind, Nadia just wandered the jail for a little while, no particular goal in mind. Were anyone around, they would have seen an unusually listless, morose-looking Ms Fortune, but for now her teammates had spread out through Mercy Dreams again. They were tying up various loose ends throughout the miserable jail, either collecting the all-important Dreamcatcher or delving into various cells. In theory Nadia wouldn’t have minded taking another crack at a cell to see what was inside, whether for the chance of good loot, stress relief, or cutting into the prisoners’ ghastly racket, but right now she just couldn’t muster up the energy. Awakening after the battle with Robin had shown her just how tired she really was, and then her little chat with ‘Minette’ drained the rest of her vigor right out of her. After that joyless, short-lived reunion, she just felt angry, lonely, and more than anything, cold. By now, the chill of this inhospitable place had seeped through her skin and into her bones. The poor feral wanted nothing more than to feel the sun on her skin again. Nadia made her way back down to the fifth layer, where she waited for the Seekers to reconvene, reconstructing the facade of the smiley, jocular Ms Fortune who could never be hurt again.

Once everyone finished attending to various matters in Mercy Dreams, the team met back up in the cavernous cell where Ten Piedad once slept in the statue’s arms. Now that stone woman lay in pieces, and the whole area had suffered the consequences of the subsequent fights against Ten Piedad and Robin Goodfellow. Withered, thorny briars had torn apart the trails of tile and left treacherous snares behind, while bullet holes from Jesse and the warframe’s firearms could be found everywhere. Most of the dead flowers had been reduced to chaff, some of which still smoldered with radioactive flame, and as the heroes headed toward the train station Nadia found herself staring as the desiccated flora. Though those memories were fading, she could still picture the lumenflowers from the dream world, eerily beautiful in full bloom. In front of her were nothing but long-dead husks, yet in that mysterious place, the flowers lived on in splendor. Could Robin have continued on in there, if the Seekers didn’t slay him in the dream, too?

When she and the others descended the steps inside the dark doorway beneath the ringed arrow, they discovered a station very much like the ones she and Jesse saw in the Home of Tears and in Falldown Mall. It featured a primarily dark green tile floor, interspersed with patterned tiles in the same beige as the walls. Shiny steel formed both the railings and the bars over the two gateways, a simple portcullis over the human-sized one and then interlocking bars over the much, much bigger one. And just as Nadia had come to expect, she could see a Magikrab waiting dutifully by the smaller gateway. This place wasn’t exactly hospitable, but at least it wasn’t flooded and dripping like its Home of Tears counterpart, and for once the feral couldn’t detect that eldritch, anathematic feeling that radiated from the depths of the other stations. “Guess that freaky aura disappeared with Robin,” she reasoned. Given her run-in with the nightmarish Nowhere Monarch back in King’s Station, and what the Magikrab in Falldown Mall said, she had to assume that other ‘archangels’ like Robin lurked in the Under’s other stations. Hopefully she and the others wouldn’t have to find out.

“Over here,“ Nadia piped up, heading over toward Magikrab. “We gotta talk to this dude. Don’t worry, we’re pals. Two peas in an arthro-pod.” While she’d originally assumed that these stations were all home to identical magical crabs, she distinctly remembered what the last one told her: that they were actually all the same crab. Which was weird, but compared to everything she’d seen today, that revelation was small potatoes. “Hey li’l guy. Can we ride the train?”

The crustacean clacked its pincers together eagerly. “Of course!” Its voice was whimsical, childlike, and far too peppy for a place like this. “Now boarding at Platform B. Just ring the bell, and wherever you want to go is just one stag ride away!”

“Great.” Nadia waited a beat, then crossed her arms. “Well, where can we go? Somewhere nice, I hope?”

“Why, they’re all nice in their own unique ways. Just like people!” After a moment of silence, Magikrab cleared its throat. “Well, let’s see…we’ve got Glowcester Road, Mournington Crescent, Falldown Mall, King’s Station, Queen’s Station, Bard Street, Aldgrave Tomb, Cherry Cross, Dirtmouth, and Night’s Bridge! Any of those sound good?”

Nadia listened to the options, scratching her head until she heard a particular name. “Wait, Dirthmouth? Ain’t that the village where we ended up after comin’ from the Metro?” It had been a few days, but the name sounded familiar.

“That’s right, the one and only terminus on the Stagmer-line above ground!” The Magikrab stepped to the side, and with a grinding sound, the grate over the small passage slid upward.

The feral let out a sigh of relief. “Ohh, thank goodness. I’ve been dying for some fresh air.” She jogged through the gateway, waving for the others to follow along. “C’mon!”

On the other side of the tunnel, the Seekers emerged to see a small, somewhat dreary train platform of a familiar style. It featured stonework formed from interlaid bug shells, hanging signs inscribed with unfamiliar symbols, and plenty of wrought iron in the form of elegant, spiked railings. Poles topped with glass globes of lumaflies bathed the area in stark white light, including the faded brass bell that hung by the platform. Down below, there were no train tracks, just a stretch of earth running off into the gloomy tunnels on either side. “Well, here goes,” Nadia chirped, ringing the bell. “Man, I can’t wait. Hope it’s not a slow-comotive, eh?”

Right away a distant rumbling began, and after a moment the Seekers’ transportation pulled up to the platform. It wasn’t a train, but a procession of giant, mustached stag beetles, each outfitted with a set of chairs that would allow two passengers to ride comfortable. The first one gave a gruff grunt, staring down at the unfamiliar creatures in front of it. “Well, what’re you waitin’ for?” he grumbled, kneeling down. Behind him the others followed suit. “All aboard!” So this was what the Magikrab meant by ‘nice on the inside’. Smiling, she climbed up and seated herself, legs crossed and ready for a ride.

After another moment, the stags were off, bearing the heroes onward and upward through the fathomless bowels of the Under.

---

Somehow the trip didn’t take that long, despite the distances involved, and the moment the stag came to a stop at the station Nadia knew that she’d seen this place before. It felt like longer, but just two days ago she and many of her teammates had arrived via the other track, arriving from the Metro through one of those giant cat flaps on a physics-defying train pulled by an enormous orange feline. She remembered that lift against the far wall, slowly but tirelessly rising and falling. Just like last time, she didn’t plan to wait for it. As tired as today left her, the excitement of returning to the surface world at long last cut through her weariness and filled her with gleeful energy. After gathering herself she leaped right off the stag before it could kneel down. “You guys are the best!” she called back, hitting the ground running. “Stag-geringly good!” Already able to feel traces of fresh air, she leaped and jammed her claws into the wall, finding purchase in the grooves between the shells. As fast as she could, the feral scrambled up to the ground floor, raced through the quiet longhouse, and pushed through the front doors to set foot in Dirtmouth, the Fading Town.

Even in daylight Dirtmouth had seemed desolate, a shell of its former self with its best and most prosperous days far behind it, but at night it gained an oddly somber outlook. Its strangely-shaped buildings, carved from materials unknown to mankind, loomed like tombstones over a graveyard where countless dreams and ambitions had quietly come to rest. The lumafly lamp light dispersed through the banks of mist to cast pale across the rounded walls, making the wrought-iron fences and benches cast pitch-black shadows. Only the aged Elderbug with his heavy cloak and sad-looking mask gave Dirtmouth any signs of life at all. Despite all this, Nadia couldn’t be any happier. She closed her eyes, filled her lungs with crisp mountain air, then slowly let it out. While she and the others had returned too late to feel the sun’s rays, the sight of starry heavens after so much time underground still did her a world of good.

“Oh, my,” the Elderbug murmured, shuffling over to the new arrivals. “Good evening, and welcome back. If visitors are a rarity here, it’s even rarer to see those who’ve gone below return.” He shuddered, and the fronds of his cloak ruffled softly. “When the crane broke, I feared the worst.”

Nadia smiled. While they didn’t really know each other, she couldn’t help but like this ancient insect. He gave off such a grandfatherly aura. “Nice of you to worry, but never fear. We’re ‘trained’ professionals.” She headed over to the edge of the cobblestone pathway, taking in the impressive scenery for the second time. In front of Dirtmouth, the ground fell away, leading down into the gargantuan spiral basin known as the Chasm, ringed by immense stone serrations and glowing amber outcrops. The moonlight shone down on yellow grass, gnarly trees with faded red leaves, and various sets of mining equipment laid down after a hard day’s work. Beyond the jagged upper ring of the Cavern lay mountains as far as the eye could see, stretching out beneath the night sky. It was good to be back.

After another moment, she turned back to the Elderbug. “Don’t mean to trouble ya, but is there anywhere we could crash for the night? We’re pretty much dead on our feet.”

He nodded. “Almost all of these houses are long since empty. I cannot guarantee that they’ll be comfortable, but they’re yours.”

His words were music to Nadia’s ears. After a long day of traveling, fighting, and even dancing through some of the weirdest and wildest locales the Under had to offer, it was finally time for the Seekers to get some well-earned rest.

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Lewa

To the great misfortune of both the rescuers and the two they rescued, it turned out that Rayne could not simply magic everyone back to the safety of the village. Though naturally curious why this might be the case, Lewa assumed no dishonesty or ill intent on the witch's part and didn't plan to press her further, but she went ahead and explained her reasoning for the others' benefit. The toa could not have imagined that somebody might possess such a conditional ability. Be it elemental or mask powers, after all, his brothers could wield their own talents at will, limited only by throughput and creativity. "Earn your thanks?" he repeated, trying to wrap his head around Rayne's bizarre power. Part of him couldn't help but be jokingly curious. "Well, that should be easy, yes? I would say you've more than earned it. You joined me on this search-trip after all. So thank you, for all your work-help!"

With a smile on his masked face he shrugged. "Of course, even if that worked, I wouldn't want to leave you out here to fly-wander by yourself. And our friend here still seems...well, offline." Crouching, he carefully inserted his arms beneath Elaine and lifted her hip. He expected his appearance to unsettle the baby in her arms, but for once he seemed to get a good reception. "So, we return the way we came. We need only retrace our path-steps."

That was easier said than done, however. Once he and the others made a careful ascent back up the slick, aged stone steps, Lewa came to a stop. For a few seconds he stood there in the downpour, raindrops pattering off his green armor. After that, though, he couldn't help but face the facts: that he had no idea which way he and Rayne came from. This forest was too new to him, its landmarks unknown and its trees unfamiliar. In his haste to find the Marcus' missing family, he'd neglected his duty as a woodsman and failed to mark his trail.

"Which way to go, again?" he asked. Hopefully this rain hadn't already grown so fierce that Rayne couldn't fly up above the canopy and get a lay of the land.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg

Reflecting back on the events of the final day in the Emerald Forest, it really did strike Gru as quite funny. There he’d been, taking stock of his cheese stores after his dealings with the woodsmen and Granny Siri as he tried to lay plans, when the word finally came that the crisis was over. While never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Gru had been more than a little curious. Could all of the misfortune and pestilence that had plagued the Pilgrim’s Caravan from the moment they set foot in that green hell really be swept away, just like that? He’d been so far removed from the front lines of the conflict that it actually took a fair bit of asking around just to figure out what happened. Of course, when he happened upon the jovial giant Galaxor, he’d been only too happy to regale the cheesemaker with an exuberant -and perhaps embellished- account of his adventure. As it turned out, that small band of warrior-types he’d briefly seen gathering for an expedition had not only survived their excursion out into the hateful woods, but also discovered an ancient barrow home to all manner of undead abominations. Yet those brave souls managed to hack and slash their way through the shambling wights to find and finally depose their skeletal overlord, the source of the malign influence, from atop his accursed throne.

All while Gru had been counting cheeses and petting rats. Remarkable as that story was, though, that wasn’t all that transpired while the merchant languished in the stalled caravan, awaiting some form of salvation. People joined and left the Caravan all the time, albeit typically in less dire circumstances, but the new face that tagged along with Althuwin and Malleck turned out to be quite the anomaly. Pepper’s scouting party did return to him in quite the tizzy, charged with inexplicable excitement, but the cheesemaker probably wouldn’t have believed them even if they could tell them what they saw. A beastwoman, emerging from within a meteorite that had fallen from the stars? It beggared belief. Nevertheless, Gru thanked his lucky stars that was all that happened. Although he scarcely dared to imagine, he figured that much worse could descend from beyond the sky than an angry woman with bestial ears and tails.

Between heroism and mystery, magic and mayhem, so much had happened just out of sight. Some might regret missing out on all the action, but not Gruyere Emmentaler Caerphilly Yarg. He was, after all, a simple salesman. What business did a mere merchant have with investigating the supernatural, or quelling evil? That stuff he happily left to the mystics and mercenaries. A quiet, entrepreneurial life was all Gru wanted, and with the problem solved, the cheesemonger could finally get on with it.

Would that he could say that the Caravan moved on to greener pastures, but nothing was greener than the Emerald Forest. Instead the legendary wagon train, with its navigator Althuwin at the forefront, made its way through arid badlands to the tractless expanse of a sun-scorched desert. For once Gru didn’t complain, as much as he would have preferred pastoral grasslands and peaceable cottages. Anything was better than the Emerald Forest, and the land of the Dinnin was far from an untamed wilderness. Rising above stone and sand were absurdly colossal structures that stood tall and proud beneath the blazing sun as magnificent testaments to the clans’ indomitability. This powerful cabal of dwarves and beastmen was no mere collection of zealots; they were master architects, master producers, master traders, and master warriors. Gru did not dislike the Dinnin, necessarily, but when dealing with them one needed to be both careful and thoughtful. The awe-inspiring heights to which their civilization had risen went hand in hand with the knowledge of what they did to their enemies, and not just in self-defense.

With this knowledge in mind, he rode along with the Caravan toward the majestic hold of Clan Buraq, growing ever closer to the citadel that blotted out the sun and painted the desert with its shadow. Given the heat, he’d stocked up on plenty of water for his rats, and ensured that they’d work shorter shifts in the Chuck Wagon’s wheels. No matter how huge his horde might be, even a single casualty due to harsh conditions was unacceptable. Thanks to the road, though, the going wasn’t too tough, and Gru was in relatively high spirits today. Lesser desert civilizations might have nothing but a few camels, whose milk stubbornly resisted all attempts to be converted into cheese, but the Dinnin had tamed this land. Beyond the city walls lay sprawling farms with all manner of livestock, including plenty of sturdy cattle with huge upturned horns, their splotchy hides painted like the pelts of the Ainok. Gru might be most interested in those, but he couldn’t help but be awed by other local creatures, and none were more awesome than the Mûmakils. One look at those titanic beasts was all anyone needed to realize just how formidable the Dinnin war machine was.

Once the Caravan came to a stop, Gru stepped out into the dry heat, clad in a much lighter, looser version of his usual attire. He sized up the area where the convoy had come to rest. Business would be best inside the Hold itself, but such prime real estate was the territory of the entrenched merchant caste, and not available to outsiders. Still, he knew he could make a killing even out here, whether selling to other travelers who couldn’t penetrate the Hold, or to the soldiers of the military encampment nearby. An army marched on his stomach, after all. Before he could rake it in, however, Gru needed a surplus. He’d purchased what milk he could from small farms on the way over, diverting from and then catching up to the Caravan, but now he could really get down to business. It was time to stock up and make some magic happen–metaphorically, of course.

After setting up and locking down, Gru and his rats got moving. For now, tourism could wait. Carried on a chair by his rats like an emperor on his palanquin, the cheesemonger sped between the outlying farms with his wide-brimmed hat doffed and his purse strings loose. It took money to make money, and though Gru was averse to debt, he was willing to spend his bottom dollar if he felt sure about an investment. When it came to establishing friendly relations, this was one businessman who could go all-out, and nothing spoke louder than cash. Plus, riding around with all his rats made for quite the strong first impression. He worked to secure deal after deal, shaking hands and signing agreements, and once the first canisters started rolling in, Gru sequestered himself in the Chuck Wagon to begin making cheese.

Qlippoth Shift: A Supernatural Action RP About Combating Otherworldy Anomalies

This RP seems very interesting and I'm very tempted, but four would probably be too many RPs for me for now. I'll keep an eye on this though and read what you guys write. Looking forward to seeing what's in store.