Lugubrious

World of Light: the Endless Now

Instructions for Skyworld this week: everyone's joining in on a beatdown against Absalom, but this kitty's still got claws. Leverage what you've learned about how he fights in order to craft a sequential post of your character dealing some damage to him. Each one should occupy no more than ten seconds total in IC time. Of course, you've also got an ace up your sleeve: Dante's here to help, wielding the triple demon Cerberus as a flaming staff, electric tri-section staff, or icy nunchucks. With him by your side, sticking it to Absalom should be a breeze. You can setup up the next person for a capitalization or make changes to the battlefield (or severe wounds against Absalom) that the next person will have to reflect, so pay attention to whoever comes before you in this chain attack! If you have any questions about what Absalom or Dante will do just DM me and I'll lend a hand.

World of Light: the Endless Now

The Avenger

Level 8 Goldlewis (97/80) Level 2 Grimm (7/20)
Primrose’s @Yankee Roland’s @Archmage MC Zenkichi’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN the Witch’s @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: 984 / 884

In an instant, the Witch’s dismissively aloof reply wiped the welcoming cordiality off of Poppi’s face. Her brows lifted and her lips pursed as if to say ah, that’s how it is, but of course her new acquaintance had already redirected her attention elsewhere. “Good luck with that,” the artificial blade replied, her tone lackadaisical. She turned off her phone with a tap of a button, pocketed it, and pushed off the server she’d been leaning against to follow behind the Witch as she approached the engineers. “Nopon speech mode dictate that Poppi speak in third person, so friend have plenty chances for name to sink in.” She came to a stop with her arms crossed while the Witch got the others’ attention, wondering what this surly stranger was doing here.

James Shirogane looked up from his project the moment the Witch drew close enough to disturb his work. His round green goggles gave him an air of wide-eyed surprise, though behind the lenses his expression was a mix of wariness and incredulity. Even if this work-in-progress Shirogane Drive 2.0 wasn’t far along enough to be dangerous right now, the components were delicate and unshielded, so any amount of blundering could lead to major setbacks. Why in the world would she impose on him like this? Her question caught him off guard, too. Was she some sort of big shot? That couldn’t possibly be the case; not even a shut-in like him could go a week aboard the Avenger and not learn who’s who among the Lost Numbers.

With that possibility scratched off, Shirogane could only speculate. “One o’ them magicians, I reckon?” He spoke with a southern twang like Goldlewis did, though his voice was wheezy and tremulous compared to the veteran’s firm baritone. After skipping past introductions, the Witch requested -or more accurately, demanded- a total explanation about ‘this place’ and how it functioned. For a moment Shirogane looked excited, pleased by the youngster’s eager curiosity and appetite for learning, but his enthusiasm quickly gave way to a puzzled look perfectly accentuated by his question mark-shaped plume of hair. “Now hold up a sec, missy. You mean my workstation here, the Engine Room, or the Avenger itself? ‘Cause if it ain’t the first one, well, I’m afraid you’re plumb outta luck. Everythin’ under the hood in this here airship’s elerium-based nanotech, reverse-engineered from a space-farin’ society at least on par with GEATHJERK, an’ as much as I’d like to pull it apart piece by piece to see what makes it tick, the Lost Numbers don’t want me doin’ anythin’ that’d put the ship outta commission. We stop movin’, and Moebius’ll be on us like hounds on a hamhock!”

“That why we work on coupling to interface with Avenger system without interfere, meh.” Shirogane’s understudy spoke in a boyish chirp, his dialect marked by frequent omissions and verbal tics. Despite his cute, harmless appearance and mannerisms, eye contact from him was oddly intense. “Who are you, anyway?”

“She told Poppi that she forget name,” his companion piped up from behind the Witch.

That took the Nopon by surprise, prompting him to flap his wings. “Mehmeh? Forget name? If friend cannot remember basic thing like name, how expect to remember advanced aerospatial science?”

“Maybe she just bad with names, but good at other stuff. Like Tora with social cues,” Poppi shrugged, an amused smile on her face. Squinting at the witch, she adopted a sagacious look with her thumb and forefinger on her chin. “If Poppi had to guess, witchypon look like a ‘Martha’.”

Excited to rope the newcomer into the team, Tora jumped up and down. “Ooh, Mar-Mar for short!” After a couple bounces he settled down, his hands perched on his hips with his wings rested around his neck. He turned up his nose, eyes closed. “If witchypon garner enough Tora respect to earn doublename, that is! Right, Jim-Jim?” He turned to Shirogane.

“Hm? Oh, uh, you betcha, kid.” The old inventor chuckled, then snapped his fingers as a lightbulb went off over his head. “Oh! Tell ya hwhat, missy. While I reckon I couldn’t tell ya how these alien doodads worked even if I knew myself, I know a fellow inquisitive mind when I see one. How ‘bout I hook ya up with a gizmo that’ll give ya access to the sum total of all human knowledge, right in your pocket?” He looked over at Tora. “Kid, mind givin’ her yer phone?”

Tora looked worried all of a sudden, sweat beading on his brow. “Meh? Tora…phone? Haha, um, Tora not…not have it at moment. Must be back in room, meh…”

Poppi pulled the device she’d been using earlier from her pocket. “Here is.” When she went to fork it over to the Witch, however, her Masterpon broke out in a panic.

“Waitwaitwait!” Tora flapped his wings. He bounced over and addressed her in an urgent whisper, much too loud to keep what he said a secret. ”Delete search history first!"

Groaning, Shirogane rubbed his head. “I knew givin’ him internet access was a mistake.” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Ahem. While they’re doin’ that, lemme give ya the rundown. That phone’ll letcha use the Inter-knot, an infinite web of interconnected websites where people chat, play games, and store all kinds o’ information. Chances are you’ll be able to find whatever you wanna know, though it’ll probably take some gettin’ used to. Happy huntin’!”

Once Tora and Poppi successfully deleted the Nopon’s search history, the two presented the Witch with the phone, opening up a new horizon to a bottomless abyss of information in which the sorceress could lose herself forever.

---

Elsewhere in the ship, the other new recruit from Meridi-at-han had wandered continuously since his arrival. Grimm walked its halls, gently running his claws along the sheer metal walls, acclimating himself to the muted pitch and yaw of the aerial vessel as much as the unfamiliar material beneath his pointed feet. A silent and often unobserved shadow, he peeked into every room he found, understanding little but observing everything.

Anomalous magical currents, more familiar to him than any of the ship’s advanced technology, drew him to the Mysticenter where he watched the young mage Mona at her divination pool. For a couple minutes he pored over the myriad elemental research tables that surrounded the Mysticenter’s spellcraft station, intrigued by miniature shrines to Frost, Physics, Poison, Order, and of course, Fire. He ducked into the Spirit Chamber to witness the end of Deadman’s final experiment for the night, his scarlet eyes unblinking as he watched a lab rat’s chimeric transformation. He saw the priestly healer Eleison take stock of expired health potions in the Infirmary, and in the isolation Ward he observed the lone prisoner meditate in silence. He recoiled at the acrid chemical smells that wafted from the Laboratory where Dr. Amelia Yu sought better understanding, and when he reached the Training Center, he figured out enough to put the Combat Adjudicator through its paces. By the time he passed by the Comms Center, Zenkichi was passing through laden with pastries and coffee mugs, so he swept to the side to make way. For a moment his gaze lingered on him and Sandalphon together, but by the time either might look his way, the phantom was gone.

Eventually the lone wanderer reached an unlabeled common room. Its lights were dimmed to not disturb any sleepers in the adjoining dormitories, but not everyone had retired for the night just yet. In the open area, three little girls of five or six years appeared to be playing a game of tag, both with one another and a big, white-furred Great Pyrenees. All three children had tan skin, dark green hair with different streaks of yellow, and rabbit ears, though that was where their similarities ended. The quiet one in a blue dress had long hair and ears that hung down, while the ears of the giggly white-dressed one with a ponytail stood straight up, and the mischievous girl in yellow had short hair beneath ears bent at different angles. They took turns chasing and running from one another and the dog, who played with remarkable gentleness despite his large size. Soon after Grimm inserted himself into the shadows, however, the girls’ companion seemed to take notice. He turned toward Grimm’s corner, no longer panting, and lowered his head with hackles raised. The kids seemed to sense his distress and quieted down, staring into the darkness.

In reply, Grimm carefully opened his cloak. Out flew the Grimmchild, which fluttered over toward the children. They gasped and clung together, alarmed, with the girl in yellow going as far as to grab and throw a soda can, but the Grimmchild kept a respectful distance. It fluttered around, doing twists and loops. The dog went after it, chasing it around and even jumping up to try and grab it in his jaws, but the insect would not be caught so easily. It wasn’t long before the delighted girls joined in the pursuit, chasing after the Grimmchild like they might a pretty butterfly. Once tensions eased, the game went on for a few more moments, Grimm watching silently all the while, until someone else stepped into the room. In an instant the Grimmchild darted beneath its father’s cloak, and Grimm’s scarlet eyes narrowed as he studied the newcomer. She appeared to be a woman in her mid-to-late thirties, with a stocky build, spiky black-and-yellow hair in a ponytail. She was dressed for bed in a tank top and shorts, and the moment the kids saw her they ran over. “Mommy, mommy! There was a big bug in here!” the girl in white told her, excited.

“A big bug?” The woman’s ruby-red eyes widened as she hugged her daughters close. She looked around the room, and Grimm shrank from her questing gaze. “Where’d it go? Are you girls okay?”

“Yeah!” The girl in yellow wore a big grin. “I wasn’t scared, so I threw a can at it! But it just wanted to play, so we played tag with it.”

The woman smiled, gathered her daughters, and lifted all three up at once. “Nice job, Soleil! Well, I’m glad you had fun. And if Caesar didn’t bark, it must’ve been alright. Good boy!” She lifted up a foot to scratch the dog’s chest, which he appreciated. “C’mon, let’s get to bed. Daddy’s waiting, and it’s gonna be a big day tomorrow.”

“You gonna get into more fights?” Soleil demanded, her excitement visible on her young face.

Laughing, her mom turned to head back to their room. “Hopefully not! That’s what all our new members are for, after all. But if anything happens, I’ll keep you three safe. Daddy too!”

Their conversation faded away as the woman closed the door behind her. After a quiet moment, Grimm departed, and the shadows were empty one more.

---

After the excitement of the rampage, the duel, and the Fulton-assisted ascent to the Avenger, Goldlewis wanted nothing more than to trudge to his chamber and nod off. But with an all-hands-on-deck operation scheduled for tomorrow morning, Goldlewis had a checklist of tasks to go through before he could retire for the night. At a leisurely pace he made his rounds, visiting various rooms to get his equipment inspected and tuned up to be ready for action. Grenades and consumables he could lay claim to just before deployment, but everything else needed to be one hundred percent operational well in advance. Though he didn’t know the details about the plan yet, he knew enough about the Dead Zone to know that tomorrow’s mission would be no ordinary battle. Being ready for anything was the job of being a Seeker, but this time the consequences of unreadiness would be dire indeed.

“Beached Things,” he muttered. He and the other Seekers had powerful enemies in Moebius and the Guardians, but few things actually scared a veteran soldier like Goldlewis. At least two things, however, did: the Transmission that emanated from the City That Never Was, and whatever it was that roamed the Dead Zone ever since that massive explosion about two weeks ago, visible from as far away from Midgar. Rumors about Project Rainshadow -and the problem it was meant to solve- traveled fast aboard the Avenger, but Goldlewis had been elsewhere for the past week, so he knew very little. He was anxious to find out more, but at this hour he couldn’t just meander around and grill whoever he came across. Instead he opted to mind his own business, and focus on steeling himself for tomorrow.

Once all his gear was in order, Goldlewis got changed in his room, donning a simple wifebeater and sweats. After that he spent a while stretching, incorporating a few of his old military drills into his routine. Some told him that getting his heart rate up before bed would make it hard to fall asleep, but he knew better than anyone that if he spent the last of his anxious energy, he’d be out the second he hit the pillow. Unfortunately, he couldn’t conk out just yet. It was getting close to ten o’clock, the scheduled arrival time for the Avenger over Mafia Town for pickup number two, so he figured he ought to be present. That left about five minutes before he’d need to head down, though, which was enough time to do something he’d been meaning to.

Goldlewis left the living quarters and sequestered himself in the Training Center, where he knew he’d be able to speak without disturbing anyone. Then he raised his fingers to his ear and summoned a magic circle, not the holy sigil characteristic of Sandalphon’s communication network, but something all his own. He seated himself on a fallen punching bag as the magic circle hummed, waiting until a familiar woman’s voice came through. “Hello?”

“Howdy, Gi.”

“Howdy yourself, old timer!” The guarded tone on the other end of the line turned friendly in an instant. “Wow, late call, huh? You’re up past your bedtime, gramps.”

Goldlewis shook his head with an exasperated smile. “Put a sock in it, Gi, I ain’t that old. Not yet, anyhow. You’re what, thirty? I’d have to be twenty years older to be your grandad.”

“Thirty!? Kill yourself.” Though Giovanna often sounded rude, she and Goldlewis had been friends long enough that he knew when she was joking. “So what’s up, why’d you call me? Feeling lonely?”

Leaning back, Goldlewis shrugged. “Nothin’. Just wanted to say hi, is all. Feels weird not seein’ ya round. After all the time we spent workin’ for Vernon, I swear the longest we’ve ever been separated is a weekend.”

“Y’know, you might be right, seeing as Midgar didn’t give us Labor Day or anything. What a rip.” Giovanna chuckled. “Well, it’s been fun on my end. We’ve been roughing it out here near the Satisfactory. Once we found tools that let us insta-build stuff, everyone started setting up their own little houses and factories, banding together, and squabbling over resources. It’s the wild west out here, and that Kanzuki girl thinks I oughta be helping her play sheriff.” She sighed. “We’ve mostly been fine, though. After living with the Ever Crisis for who-knows-how-long, everything we’re dealing with’s like a breath of fresh air. Plus, you can really see the night sky all the way out here. It’s pretty.” Goldlewis stared up into the ceiling, remembering how the stars looked from Meridi-at-han. The lull in the conversation continued until Giovanna filled the dead air. “What about you? Do anything fun lately.”

The veteran chuckled. “You could say that. I wound up in this city called Meridi-at-han, way out west of Midgar. Kinda reminded me of Zepp, but without all the black tech. Took a little gettin’ used to, but I ended up likin’ the place. Put Midgar to shame, that’s for damn sure.”

“Zepp, huh? Never been myself. How was the food?”

Goldlewis grinned, shaking his head. “Hoo, boy. The Hannish like their food spicy. You know I ain’t a big spice guy -just a big guy in general- but once I got the hang of it, it was real good.” He patted his stomach. “...Still, I could really go for a good ol’ fashioned double cheeseburger.”

“We’ll have to find a place and get one sometime, then. You, me, Vernon, Jessie. Just like old times, eh partner?”

With a grunt, Goldlewis stood up. “That’d be mighty fine. Gotta hold off for a little bit, though. Got a big mission tomorrow.”

“Don’t go dying on us then, old-timer.” Giovanna said it jokingly, but Goldlewis knew she meant it. “Uh oh, Karin’s coming. Catch you later.”

“Later.” The magic circle disappeared, and Goldlewis turned to head back down to Deployment.

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Level 14 Ms Fortune (69/140)
Junior and Rika’s @DracoLunaris, Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, Therion’s @Yankee, Juri’s @Zoey Boey, Captain Falcon’s @Double, Venom Snake’s @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 2052

The situation inside Bancho Sushi in the wake of the Battle Royal Rumble looked bad to begin with, but only after actually getting their hands dirty and digging into the heaps of debris could the Seekers really begin to get a grip on the havoc those wrestlers wreaked. In the face of such devastation, the cleanup crew could only find two things to be thankful for: the health of the staff, and the fact that the restaurant still floated at all. It was because of these dire circumstances, though, that Nadia Fortune felt more determined than ever to stay positive. She darted around the premises with a resolute smile on her face, cracking jokes and lending a hand wherever she could to disentangle, deconstruct, and dislodge the wreckage.

Neither she nor Bancho were paragons of physical strength, but the two made decent inroads at clearing the place out even before Geralt, Rika, Junior, and Dave returned. The portly diver seemed much more dismayed at the state of the place than Bancho did, somehow, but once changed he sallied forth with his precious loot stuffed in a cargo box to sell the giant Truck Hermit Crab Legs at the night market. With their manpower more than doubled, the cleanup crew made good progress, though in the midst of their laborious teamwork a sudden call from the Seekers’ intelligence officer made it clear that the eventful evening wasn’t over just yet.

After hearing from Sandalphon that the Avenger would be arriving in an hour Geralt relayed what he, Dave, and the Koopa Kids found, which filled in Nadia in the process. Even if all the wrestlers had tapped out, the spawn pads and Flame Clocks aboard Ɪ’s ship were a definite cause for concern, since they seemingly indicated that more foes could crop up at any time. The Seekers could theoretically sink it, but that would be difficult and time-consuming, and they still couldn’t do anything about the Flame Clock. The prospect of leaving the matter unresolved didn’t thrill Nadia, but there wasn’t much that she could do. Hopefully, the presence of the cargo ship here would mean that Limsa Lominscuttle Town could recover and launch a counter-offensive, especially if the Seekers tipped the Azure Navy off.

Once the call concluded, Nadia and the others continued their work. After twenty minutes or so Dave returned in good spirits, a heavy sack of pons over his shoulder. Even in the aftermath of the Battle Royal Rumble, it seemed, a treasure like the giant crab claws could fetch a high price. Unfortunately, it looked like the tidy sum Dave received wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to cover the repairs. Once cleared out, Bancho Sushi was little more than an elaborate raft, with only a handful of its assets salvageable or miraculously untouched.

While Dave and Bancho went over accounts, the roar of an outboard motor announced the arrival of Cobra aboard his motorboat. Evidently he’d managed to ride out the night’s proceedings unscathed, and with him came all the diving equipment used by Dave and Nadia to procure the restaurant’s fish. Just as dismayed as the others, he quickly came ashore to discuss what to do next. It wasn’t long before another boat showed up to check on Bancho Sushi as well, this one bearing the Blue Hole archeologist Dr. Bacon in his classic khaki explorer’s attire. He joined Cobra, Bancho, and Dave aboard the restaurant, his expressions of sympathy quickly giving way to excited reports about his recent findings as a way to make all the losses back.

Nadia stood aside as she watched the four argue, a sad smile on her face. During her time in Mafia Town, these four -as well as the operation’s tech expert, the eccentric recluse Duff- had all become her friends, all working to get this business off the ground in their own ways. They didn’t always see eye to eye, and seldom spent time together outside of work, but now that this disaster had brought them together she could see how much they all cared–not just about Bancho Sushi, but about one another. They weren’t the best or the brightest, and they certainly weren’t the most successful, but they were a team. In these men Nadia saw an inkling of the four Dagonians she’d been privileged to call family back in her Innsmouth days. That was why, despite this catastrophe, she knew they’d be alright. Even if the newest member of their little bunch had to say goodbye.

In the midst of their discussion, the feral approached. “Hey, guys,” she greeted them, getting their attention. “Sorry to cut in. I know it’s a bad time, buuuuut…I’ve got more bad news. Depending on how much you like me, of course.” She pursed her lips as she smiled. “I have to go soon.”

“Huh? Why?” Dave looked more aghast than anyone, his hands held up as if to say what gives? “The only way we’re gonna have enough cash to fix the place is if we catch and sell enough fish to get the restaurant running.” He grinned at her helplessly. “What, you’re gonna leave me to do it alone?”

Nadia put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need me! Sure, my harebrained schemes pay off once in a while, but you’re the dependable workhorse this place needs! Plus, with me gone, Bancho can save more by not paying me!”

Dave frowned. “He was paying you???

A fresh round of argument broke out among the five, everyone trying to convince someone else and not be convinced in the process. In all the hubbub, the motley crew didn’t notice another group approaching until a pointed female voice cut through the clamor.

“Wow, those rumblers really did a number on your restaurant, huh?” When she looked over, Nadia was taken aback to see one of the most infamous members of Mafia Town’s criminal underground just waltzing out in the open, the tattooed, Thompson-toting, two-tone rascal Rosanna. Seldom seen outside of Mafia HQ, especially with her counterpart Chrom, this woman held the distinction of being one of the few ‘actually dangerous’ people in the Mafia of Cooks, arguably more so than her own boss. But what was she doing here?

“What are you doing here?” Nadia asked. Like the others, she was immediately on guard.

Rosanna gave a disarming smile as she put a gloved hand on her hip, one brow upturned. “Oof, so cold. And here I was, just walking along, trying to figure out which sad sap deserved a little reimbursement from the Mafia for all their dutiful payments…”

With his brows furrowed, Dave looked incredulous. “Wait, you Mafia people are doing disaster relief? That stuff about protection money isn’t just a scam?”

Rolling her eyes, Rosanna smiled innocently. “I mean, of course it is. Duh! But hey, Bancho here’s just about our biggest earner. You guys have any idea how trendy sushi is nowadays? A lot more than Possum Pizza, that’s for sure, ugh!” She snapped her fingers, and two of her goons walked over with sacks of pons on their shoulders. “So, here’s a little something from the boss. Get yourselves up and running again nice and quickly now, ‘kay? Don’t keep us waiting!” She turned with a jaunty wave and sauntered off, her grunts following behind once they dumped the pons at Bancho’s feet.

After a moment. Nadia shrugged, a huge grin on her face. “Well, that’s kinda ominous, but all’s well that ends well, right? Talk about luck–did somebody wish u-’pon’ a star?”

Cobra stood up from examining the stacks. “Guys. We’ve got enough to rebuild the restaurant! Bancho Sushi’s back in business!”

“Well, it feels a little early to be saying that,” Bancho remarked. As the others celebrated, he glanced around at the Seekers, his gaze settling on Nadia. “If you’ve got to go, then go. But if you get the chance, please come again.”

Nadia shook the chef’s hand with a smile. “I will. You haven’t sush-een the last of me!”

By this time, the missing Seekers had trickled in from around the island. Captain Falcon, Therion, Blazermate, and of course, Juri all showed up, their rendezvous aided by Junior’s balloon trick. Falcon even brought a new face, scarred and grizzled enough to give even Geralt a run for his money. Just seconds after the last straggler showed up, and before any chewing-out could commence, a beam of light dropped from the sky to reveal Sandalphon, right on time. Freshly fed and caffeinated, the formally-dressed archangel looked as radiant as ever, even with bags under those odd eyes of hers. The light of her elaborate halo illuminated the faces of everyone present, as well as the satchel of Fulton devices in her hand. “Good evening, everyone,” she greeted the team, apparently in good spirits. “Please take and affix a Fulton device in preparation for ascendance. With haste, if at all possible. We have one more pickup schedule for tonight, and a long way to go.”

She held one out for Venom Snake in particular, choosing her words tactfully in light of his gleaming status. “Greetings. We are short on time, so forgive my abbreviated introduction, I am Sandalphon, dispatcher for the Seekers of Light. If you’re here to join our mission to save the world, please take this, pull it tight, and yank the cord. We can tell you everything once we’re safe.”

Nadia grabbed her Fulton and put it on eagerly, then cracked her neck and stretched her arms as if limbering up for a fight. “Okay, this time I’m gonna stay awake for sure. Not gonna pass out! Not gonna freak out! Just gonna power through it! G-force? More like-!”

A pink-and-black blur swept in front of her, and before Nadia knew what was happening, the ripcord on her Fulton had been pulled. Her jaw dropped as she stared at Juri in stunned silence, though only for a moment. “You stinky bitch! I wasn’t done hyping mys-AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa_aaaaaaaaa…”

---

“....AAAAAH!” Nadia jolted awake mid-yell and found herself seated in a large, dark hangar full of sophisticated instrumentation and heavy-duty machinery. This could only be Deployment, deep in the belly of titanic aircraft known as the Avenger. And if she was here, safe and sound aboard the Lost Numbers’ mobile base, that could only mean… “Damn it. I passed out again.”

Worse still, most of the others had stirred from their stupors already. Most of them left of their own accord, but for the sake of the bearded newcomer, Sandalphon had positioned herself next to an elaborate map of the Avenger’s interior on the wall. “Welcome aboard.” For the second time that night, the archangel launched into her well-rehearsed orientation speech. Nadia picked herself up, made doubly sure that she still had all her parts, and jogged over. “This is the Avenger, our mobile base of operations. Think of it like a flying fortress. It comes equipped with various amenities, including living quarters, restrooms, a mess haul, and various workshops with different specialties. Please feel free to explore within reason and speak to the Lost Numbers, should you have any questions or concerns.”

“I have one,” the feral piped up. “Well, two. First off, ‘eye’ think we have, you know, a sl-eye-t issue here…” She tilted her head toward Snake, as if Sandalphon could have failed to notice the new recruit’s gleaming state. Sandalphon nodded slowly, trying not to feel patronized. “Second, could we somehow send a message to Limsa Lominscuttle Town? The ship that’s been attacking them is at Mafia Town, drifting over the Blue Hole. If those shipgirls can sink it, it might disappear the next time the Blue Hole regenerates!”

Sandalphon’s eyes became inverted triangles as she drafted the message. “Good thinking, Fortune. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Sandy. Say ‘halo’ to Zenkichi for me!” Nadia grinned at her as she turned to go. As late as it was, there was plenty to do aboard the Avenger before retiring for the night to her and Blazermate’s room. A visit to the Stolen Moments bar sounded pretty good. There was, however, one problem the feral didn’t account for: Juri.

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

Midna and Edward’s @DracoLunaris Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Pit’s @Yankee Roxas’ @Double, Edelgard’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

In Skyworld, trains were not a common sight. Despite the futuristic weapons and armor utilized by Celia and Uriel’s Hellguard, technology throughout the autumnal realm remained locked at a Renaissance level. After all, what need had its denizens of light, when the Minor Erdtrees and its luminous leaves filled each night with serene resplendence? And what need had they of transportation, when their wings could carry them anywhere they needed? Any sufficiently stable sky islands within walkable distance from one another had long ago been connected with bridges of carved stone. Other landmasses tended to float around, dooming any inflexible attempts at connection to failure, and even if by some miracle each island in the airborne archipelago hung perfectly still, the cost of connecting new one by rail would be prohibitive.

All this meant that to the angels of Skyworld, the Infernal Train was a terrifying, eldritch entity, its form and function utterly beyond their imaginations. Larger than any living thing, and constantly in motion, yet composed of inanimate materials, and fashioned into a mockery of their own hallowed cathedrals. Then there was the matter of the corruption, making the mechanical monstrosity more horrible still. Few could look upon the infested construct and fathom that it merely contained the corruption’s source, rather than embodying it. Even then, however, Palutena’s forces did not lose heart. With courage and zeal they surged forth, scrubbing the train’s blackened exterior clean of ruinous horrors one incursion at a time. They didn’t need to understand their foe to know that it needed to be destroyed. To their commanders, though, there was one fact about the Infernal Train that became increasingly obvious as the battle wore on: that the path of its incessant charge seemed to be dictated by its tracks, the colossal, night-black rails that bore the carriages’ full weight as they trundled onward in perpetuity. And in that realization, the angels found their path to victory.

Once Uriel joined him in the sky overlooking the final island and confirmed that the Seekers were ready, Nathaniel gave the signal. Fodoquia, Ochlys, Raenys, and Sanatio were already in position, and in their arms they held not weapons, but holy hand grenades, the last of Palutena’s stock. Nathaniel had needed to choose their location quickly, but carefully. It would not do to send the source of the corruption careening down into the ocean far below, after all, where it could very well survive and proliferate across the entire planet. He’d settled on a spot atop the island itself, just after a tunnel from which the Infernal Train would emerge and before a relatively sharp turn among mountains of corruption-stained crystals. At his command, the angels pulled the cross-shaped pins and let their bombs rain down.

”HAAAAAAALLELUJIAH!”

BABABABABABABABOOM!

If anything, the ensuing blast proved to be a little excessive. As fast as the angels flew away, the aerial shockwave alone still sent them tumbling, and the whole island shook beneath the percussion of divinely inspired bombs. When the dust settled, a massive crater had been blown into the crystal fields, destroying untold amounts of corrupted matter along with the tracks and creating an enormous basin in the Infernal Train’s path. The detonation came not a moment too soon. A tremendous roar issued from within the island to herald the emergence of the Infernal Train.

”Now!” Palutena decreed.

Within the locomotive, the Seekers did everything they could to break out. They had only ten seconds to make their exit before the Infernal Train burst from the mouth of the tunnel in a miasma of toxic fumes, then hurtled off the warped, broken tracks and into the open air. As horrific as the sight was, few could find it within themselves to look away. Adrenaline pounded, and time seemed to stand still. Then, with an ungodly cacophony of crumbling stone and rending steel, joined by the hideous howl of the corruption itself, the Infernal Train crashed down into the crater made for it.

After what seemed like an eternity, a brawny arm of twisted flesh and crystal protrusions broke through the rumble. Slowly, groaning in pain, Absalom extricated himself. His enormous body was battered, one giant black and yellow bruise weeping corruption. Yet still he held tight to Absolution, even as he clambered atop the wreckage of his train. Within the rubble, many corrupted monsters stirred, fighting to regain the consciousness wrenched from them by the almighty impact. He witnessed angels flocking around the crash site, and the Seekers healing up for the final round. “Winged rats,” he rumbled, ichor dripping from his fangs. “Tremble in fear! For I still live!”

A smug snicker resounded through the sky. ”Not for long. Make your peace, Absalom. You’re as good as gone.”

“Hah…” The former Nephilim straightened up, hoisting his axe. His tentacles extended, writhing in anger. “Then from hell…I stab at thee!”

At that moment, something massive flew overhead, strong enough to part the clouds and kick up strong winds, even if the forces of light couldn’t see it. From the furrow left behind, however, a single object grew larger and larger, dark and shaped like a can, until it slammed down the ground not far from Absalom’s location. Its speed buried it in the ground, leaving only a lid visible, with a skull emblazoned on its surface. Then the lid popped off, and the pod’s inner mechanisms lifted a man to the surface. He was middle-aged, with white hair and scruffy stumble, and over a dark, half-shirt and pants he wore a long red coat.

“What…is this?” Absalom snarled.

Letting out a sigh of relief after the brief but rough ride, the newcomer ignored the Avatar of Chaos to pull out a set of three-piece nunchucks from beneath his coat. With countless eyes on him he unfolded the nunchucks and tossed them into the air, at which point the weapon transformed in a burst of light, breaking into three shapes. As they fell the motes resolved into three women with long white hair, dog ears, pointy devil tails, and black suit vests over blood-red shirts, identical except for the color of their eyes: fiery orange, cool blue, and shocking violet. The three grabbed onto the man as he opened his eyes, taking in the sunlit sky.

“Huh…the night’s even younger than I thought!” Demons hanging off him, Dante grinned at Absalom. “Guess we get to rock around the clock! Cerberus?” In a flash, the devil hunters transformed his maniacal helpers back into nunchucks that he took in hand, each third alight with a different element. Then he beckoned for the Seekers to join him. “Alright, let’s party!”

Absalom howled, and the final battle began.

World of Light: the Endless Now

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Junior and Rika’s @DracoLunaris, Blazermate’s @Archmage MC, Geralt’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, Therion’s @Yankee, Juri’s @Zoey Boey, Captain Falcon’s @Double, Venom Snake’s @DisturbedSpec

Oblivious to the mounting tension and explosive tempers at work in the theatrical throne room of their boss, the handful of grunts assigned to take Mabuchi away carried out their task dutifully. Two of them, hands hooked under his arms, dragged him out through the casino while a third performed the essential act of gloating. “Nothing gets past Mafia in Mafia Town. Only present, and glorious Mafia future. That why Mafia Town has no museums,” he told the would-be usurper. Still conscious but unable to fight with the injuries inflicted on him by Juri and Snake, Mabuchi just glared at his captors, his loathing absolute. “Bad guy chose poorly, picking fight with Boss. In entire life, Boss never lose anything,” the braggart declared as his companions dragged Mabuchi across the red-checkered carpet toward a side room. “Not even virginity.”

His squad’s entrance into the adjoining room brought his boasting to an end. This makeshift jail contained a wall of reinforced metal bars, without a door or locking mechanism of any kind, but a conspicuously large brown button with concentric yellow rings on it protruded from the floor just in front of the wall, indicating that it worked like a portcullis. However, the Mafia grunts stopped just short of the button, confronted with a perplexing conundrum. Unbeknownst to any of them, this cell already contained a captive -the large-nosed local Dr. Tot who’d refused to raise the prices on his medicine to give the Mafia a bigger cut- and it happened to be the only cell the Mafia had. “Hmm…” Crossing his arms, the talkative Mafia thought about the situation. “Mafia honestly not remember what schnoz man do. But suit man attack Boss, and that worst crime of all. Plus, most recent orders also most important. Everybody knows that.” He beckoned to one of his fellows. “Here, stand on button while I throw schnoz man out.”

With a grunt the other goon complied, leaving just one Mafia holding Mabuchi. Ever the opportunist, the man saw his chance and started to move immediately, slow enough to not attract attention. As if reaching down to press a hand on his battered ribs, he slipped his hand into a pocket in his suit and withdrew a small amber bottle with a big red X on its label. As the Mafia weighed down the button to make the gate lift into the ceiling, he popped the cap off and downed the bottle. In an instant, the Staminan X restored his health completely, and after planting a foot he rose with explosive force. Before his surprised captor could react, he grabbed the top-heavy thug by his shoulders and hurled him into the cell, where he knocked over the Mafia holding Dr. Tot like a bowling pin. The Mafia on the button turned toward Mabuchi only to receive a strong kick to the gut, and once he rolled beneath the portcullis, the bars slammed shut the next instant.

“Idiots,” Mabuchi spat as he straightened up, dusting off his suit with a nasty grin. “How a syndicate full of braindead morons like you ever took over this place is beyond me. Once I’m in charge, you’ll be far more useful as fish food.” Loud noises from the throne room down the hall got his attention, and with a grimace he turned to go. “But that’ll have to wait.”

Thanks to all the stooges summoned for use in the boss’s Mafia Ball, fighting was out of the question. Mabuchi threw his dignity to the wind as he fled the scene, fleeing out of the Mafia HQ and out into the night. Once he reached the edge of the great dish, he set his sights on a glass roof above an indoor swimming pool and leaped to what he hoped would be safety.

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

Midna and Edward’s @DracoLunaris Sectonia’s @Archmage MC Pit’s @Yankee Roxas’ @Double, Edelgard’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN
Word Count: 3545 (+4)

With a swing of his axe, the heart of the corruption hurled a scatter spray of projectiles towards the seekers and their angelic squads, and for the latter, this was incredibly dangerous. Fighting in tight formations as they did a single shot landing brought explosive devastation to a whole unit.

”Back back! We’ll handle this!” Midna commanded as soon as the threat to her troops became clear, while Edward recommended that they ”Set up a fall back point for the wounded!”

Even as they insisted the rank and file fall back, the Seekers pushed forward. Or, in Edward’s case, his expendable golems pushed forwards while he circled to find a firing position.

Absalom welcomed his challengers with open arms. “Come, come!” he rumbled, brandishing his enormous axe with one hand as his corrupted left arm beckoned. The globules he littered across the arena remained where they fell, bulbous as bubbles from a primordial tar pit and just as prone to popping.

After a somewhat exaggerated show of covering his nose due to the concentrated stench of impurity, the captain of Palutena's royal guard obliged him. "C'mon, let's purge this guy!"

Pit opened up with his trusty bow, firing upon the monstrous champion of corruption. His own unit stationed themselves outside of the arena's doors and beyond, keeping the corruption's reinforcements from interfering.

Though revolted by the abhorrent being before her, twisting her expression into one of indignant hatred, Uriel forced herself to keep a cool head. Sacrifices were inevitable in times of war, but in this climactic showdown, excessive zeal would be the angels’ undoing. They couldn’t afford to throw themselves into the melee when getting their hands dirty meant corruption. This close to the progenitor of pestilence, the air was so dense with rotten fumes that Uriel’s vision was already swimming. In the worst case scenario, a single wound could be the vector that Absalom’s plague needed to corrupt one’s body from the inside out. If that was the case, she would simply need to fight without taking a hit.

Uriel beat her wings and floated upward, using the cathedral locomotive’s interior space to get a height advantage and avoid the spot where the miasma was thickest. Absalom’s glare followed her, and the tentacles extending from his back seemed to move with instinctive hatred toward the Hellguard’s commander. Uriel hurled a handful of light spikes down to detonate around her foe. Their radiant chain explosion worked well against corruption, but the Avatar of Chaos harbored a huge health pool, so it would take a lot more than that. Still, her golden blast also ruptured the plague mines around him, if for whatever reason one of the Seekers felt like squaring off against the brute in close quarters.

Angered, Absalom leaped toward Uriel with terrifying speed. His tentacles wound around Absolution’s shaft to extend his reach, lifting the axe up to bring down on the angel like a massive guillotine. Speed was Uriel’s forte, luckily, and with a swallow’s grace she managed to dart out of the way of certain death, but she would not be so confident about her own safety in the air going forward. When Absalom slammed down the next moment, the impact of his unyielding axeblade against the ground unleashed a vertical cutter of corruption that scythed forward along the ground toward the door. It forced the incoming Seekers to swerve to either side, then left them separated by a wall of corrupt tentacles that cropped up in its wake.

Midna, Edward and their minions went left though the princess and her steed did this far faster, naturally. With the troops falling back, and each and every one of those blows looking incredibly lethal, the princess tossed her lyre into a portal as she spurred her wolfos to charge forward into the fray.

With nimble paws, her steed darted between mines, and then as she closed in, the princess placed a palm to a purple crystalline pyramid mounted upon the beast’s armor, prompting the psystone of dissonance to unleash a staggering psychic blast towards Absalom. Her target raised his arm like a shield to block the mental energy, but its nonphysical component gave him just enough pause for a follow-up. She then struck out with a shadow fist strike, to try and keep him off balance, before darting to the side while her intangible beast legion darted the other way.

As she did, a gunshot rang out from Edward’s pistol as he found a high angle firing position, intending to mostly try and keep stacking his debuffs, while his squad of two bronze golems slowly picked their way through the minefield. Sure enough, his shot hit, but its initial impact didn’t even seem to register. Hopefully his long game would prove more potent.

Sectonia helped with her own debuffs, applying a slow to Absalom making him easier to hit and dodge, using her own Antlers to help advance, but mostly just hovered at the range of her damaging aura and acted like heavy artillery, charging a reality shatter to hit him with as all the minions kept him distracted. Unfortunately, her footsoldiers soon bumbled into corrupt mines, miring down their progress.

Roxas wanted to use the start of the fight to try and apply Tailwind buffs to some of his allies, but only had enough time to use one on Edelgard before Absalom brought the axe down in an attack that forced him to dodge to the right. It also summoned up a wall of tentacles that split the Seekers into two attacking groups. Maybe one of the Nobody’s new Strikers could help them reposition themselves if needed, but it didn’t seem necessary at the moment.

The wall basically kept him from being able to spread around the buffs he wanted to share, which meant his only next step now was to carry out some kind of attack, especially with the debuffs against Absalom coming from the other side of the wall. He summoned his Keyblades and proceeded to hurl one and then the other immediately after for a double strike raid. But that was meant to only distract so he could lock on and use his StepSword to instantly move himself to a position to slash at Absalom from behind with the ignited energy sword. And he figured since he was in close proximity, he might as well try to use Steal to make a grab for Absalom’s axe. He knew the chances of that working was slim, but there was no harm in trying, especially if it meant potentially disarming the boss of his weapon early on. His speedy attacks landed, but did little to phase the giant Nephilim, and to the keyblade wielder’s chagrin his Steal failed outright. With more foes inbound, Absalom retorted with a quick half-turn to jab at Roxas with the butt of his axe, its reach and power remarkable for so unceremonious a strike.

Edelgard went right with Roxas as the Heart of Corruption separated the Seekers’ group, and the Tailwind buff from Roxas meant that she stood a chance of keeping up. She didn’t have the same speed as the Nobody, nor the means of quickly striking at Absalom’s back, but as long as she wasn’t Corrupted, she could fight. Careful to avoid the mines on the ground, Edelgard lunged for Absalom, Amyr lifting high and coming down in a brutal swing to begin what would surely be a pitched battle. Her axeblade came down on her foe’s left arm, leaving only a surface wound among the corrupted crystals–and leaving Edelgard within spitting distance of a titan comparable in size to Beloved.

Despite seeing that Absalom could reach his flying opponents just as easily as his land bound ones, Pit still wished he could take wing alongside Uriel. The Power of Flight wouldn't work as well in this kind of situation, and absorbing fallen Featherwings during the course of the war seemed wrong somehow (though after it was over, he'd see about it). For once he didn't voice his wish, focusing on the battle.

It wasn't like fighting on foot put him at a disadvantage. Land battles were what he'd been accustomed to all his life, including boss battles like this. He kept on the move, making generous use of the larger minions summoned by his allies to hop onto, bounce off of, or skirt behind to avoid globules of corruption, corrosive blasts, and ensure he was making the best shots he could. Thankfully he never needed to be spot on accurate, as the shots themselves could twist in flight. Pit was a formidable fighter on his own, and with a whole crew of fighters around too he knew it was just a matter of time until this corrupted monster was put down and the forces of light were victorious. Pit kept up his own assault on Absalom, his arrows flying swiftly through the air around the arena as streaks of warm yellow light. Normal shots were interspersed with the more powerful versions whenever possible as the energetic captain dashed around the cathedral's interior.

Once the debuffs cast on the source of the corruption began to take effect, he changed up his attacks slightly. He was still getting the hang of how his electro arrows interacted with other elements, but there was one effect he'd learned early on that he would make the most of here. He came to a halt in order to better line up his shot, pulling the ethereal bowstring back as far as it would go and holding the charge. The color of the light arrow changed from golden yellow to electric purple, and small fireballs formed in the air around the arrow's head, circling it. When Pit let it loose the arrow shot straight forward at Absalom, and if it struck would explode on impact thanks to the instant Overloaded reaction of the fire and lightning combo. Noting that Edelgard was headed in to tackle the monster in melee combat, he prepared another explosive arrow to give her an opening.

Taking Absolution in both hands, Absalom whirled around in a wheeling cleave to drive Roxas and Edelgard back, or risk an infectious deathblow then and there. The additional space gained brought the problem posed by the other Seekers into sharp relief, however. As spells and projectiles rained down, debuffs mounted and minions amassed. “Hmph!” Seeing a priority target, the Avatar of Chaos hurled his axe at Sectonia, a flying guillotine almost as big as she was. Then he plunged his coiled tentacles into the ground around him, gathering pestilential power.

Edelgard hopped back as Absalom swung, a curse on her lips. ”Damn! I’ll need a better opening, then.” Stepping further back, she instead lobbed one of her four remaining Fire spells at Absalom, not expecting it to do much damage, but needing to keep up the pressure. She didn’t know what the Source of Corruption was doing, but something told her not to be close to him whenever he did it.

“Weaklings!” Tendrils of corruption slithered around him that extinguished Edelgard’s flames, then fattened as they accelerated. An orb of rippling, lambent impurity swelled in his engorged palm. “There is no strength in numbers. Not against me!” When he thrust his palm into the ground, the whole room shook, and a wave of corrupt earth spread out around him. It covered the whole floor in under two seconds, and while a couple small patches died off and left openings, his corrupt seeding quickly bore fruit. Wriggling tentacles emerged beneath all foes still on or right above the infestation, then attempted to bore into them like screwworms and rapidly corrupt them from the inside out. Even if the Seekers shook them off with only minor damage, the golems, antlers, and other minions weren’t so lucky. In moments the heroes’ helpers were on Absalom’s side. Worse still, corrupt tentacles seized the thrown axe and dragged it back through the mire to its master.

Both Edward and Midna took to the skies to avoid this. The Dreadnought, already at an elevated position near the edge of the combat zone, using his new wings to get extra clearance from the corrupt ground, while the princess by shoving her wolfos down into a portal while leaping off of it, letting it leave and her ascend just in time for the corruption to sweep under them. She also summoned her flygon, but not for her, and instead sent it to grab and hoist Edelgard into the air with a simplistic shout of it being ”A ride!”

Whether she could mount it or not after being hoisted was her issue to solve.

Edward’s constructs were not able to do such a maneuver, and the tendrils wormed their way up into them, prompting their creator to cut off their connection to the 4 mana fuel cells that had been powering them, calling out that he was ”Shutting them down” as he glided towards one of the patches free of corruption.

Midna meanwhile landed, not on the corrupt floor, but on the back of her Beast Legion, the intangible being not touching the physical world enough to be graspable by the corruption. In doing so, and bringing her and it together, she also completed their encirclement of him and binding the astral chain around him to complete the binding ploy she’d been engaging in. This bind took effect just as Absalom stood to capitalize on the chaos he released, restricting him only a moment until the chain snapped, but enough to give the others a little breathing room.

The clearance it granted was only barely enough for her to outpace the grabbing tendrils, and so rather than being able to follow up her strike the princess rapidly retreated, the beast legion just barely letting her outpace the grabbing tendrils as it sprinted full pelt around the arena.

Edelgard let out an undignified gasp as something grabbed her and lifted her into the air, but with Midna’s voice confirming that it was friend, not foe, she held on for dear life. Grabbing the thing, she stowed Aymr in her Inventory, then waited for it to stabilize before swinging herself onto its back and sighing in relief. ”Thank you for that.” She said, addressing both the Flygon and Midna. Pulling out her throwing axes, Edelgard went to work, emulating the Wyvern Lords from her world and harrying Absalom from a distance. Even while bound he extended his tentacles in order to defend himself, but Uriel swooped in to let loose a high-speed assault, forcing Absalom to divide his attention. After enough hits, her Dawnbreaker blade triggered a fiery explosion that blew open his guard and allowed Edelgard’s next axes to strike true.

At the onset of Absalom's massive spreading corruption, Pit had to put his wings to work in order to get clear of the contaminated ground. Two or three flaps could get him far enough that he could land in a relatively clear area, though he would have to fend off the dark tendrils that shot up after him all the while. Pit hunkered down to put strength into his legs before leaping high into the air. The bladed edges of his bow hacked away at the tentacles, spinning wildly as Pit whirled the weapon around himself. He definitely didn't want any part of those touching him if he could help it. He got up even higher with his wings, finally clearing the grasping corruption. With the higher point of view he noted everyone else's escapes, and the champion of corruption about to rearm himself. Rather than try and stop the axe from getting back into Absalom's hands, Pit went to assist one of the Seekers that would have a harder time avoiding the wide reaching attack: their keyblade wielder.

Though flightless, Pit still had some aerial options. He splayed his feathers out, twisting the limbs so that he could swiftly swoop down towards Roxas and to an open patch beyond him. It would be a bit of a rough ride, dangerously close to the reach of the corrupted tentacles, but it would also be a quick getaway. So long as Pit didn't miss, since he wouldn't be able to just fly back around.

"Roxas! Here!" he called, stretching an arm out to his friend as he glided close to him. And he was just in time, considering Roxas had precious few options to avoid the tentacles. The Nobody launched himself up to grab the angel’s hand.

”Thanks for the lift.” Was about all Roxas could get out due to the bumpy nature of their getaway after that. The boys landed roughly in the nearest clear patch of ground, not too worse for wear and ready to jump back into action.

"Don't mention it!" Pit replied.

Sectonia, having been charging a reality shatter. One of her golden antlers, before it would be lost to the corruption wave, used its shield to intercept the axe headed her way in order to protect its queen. However there wasn’t much it could do against the corruption wave and all the antlers and Sectonia took the erupting corruption, but in trade for that damage, fired off her reality shatter, destroying her now converted antlers as well as any other nearby corruption as the area around Absolution shattered like glass and became pure white with some slight black lines to show basic outlines of the area as all the enemies within the area took large amount of damage, with Absalom and any of Sectonia’s allies being the only things in color within the area.

With her big spell thrown out, Sectonia started to use much faster spells and attacks, seeing as Absalom wouldn’t just be sitting there and getting hit anymore, causing the area to rain holy swords over Absalom. This more emphasis on mobility at this point would let her dodge the axe throw if it happened again, since summoning antlers would be out of the question now.

With there only being random patches of safe ground to stand on, Roxas sagged his shoulders and let out a frustrated groan. ”Great, just what a dangerous boss battle needs: A game of ‘The Floor is Lava’ to make it even harder.” He said with a thick, sarcastic tone. Well he couldn’t stand around like a sitting duck, so Roxas scanned around to see how far away some of the safe patches of ground were from each other. After that he came up with his plan. He would have to summon a series of virtual cubes that he could platform across using Flow Motion in order to move between safe spots. Not ideal, when he was going to have to also look for some kind of opportunity to attack as well.

So instead of looking for a chance to rush at Absalom, Roxas instead used charged shots from his RockGun to get off potshots at him. It was about the best option he had for the time being unless he wanted to risk getting thrown around into the corrupted spots and snagged by those tentacles. He could throw Firaga spells, sure, but that seemed like a waste of MP for something he could freely do with the RockGun.

If Sectonia intended to try and destroy Absalom’s weapon by targeting it with her reality break, she would wind up disappointed. Absolution withstood the intense spell, neither truly alive nor dead to begin with, but the wasp queen’s magic worked wonders to swing the situation back in her favor. It annihilated a huge swath of corrupt ground, cleansing it for her allies to use in the fight, and it also wiped away the corrupted antlers and golems that had just begun to move of their own volition. Furthermore, it destroyed the tentacles attempting to return Absolution to its owner, prolonging his disarmament. That allowed several Seekers to press the attack while the Nephilim broke free of the Astral Chain, though as they advanced they might notice the whole battlefield a little shakier than before; it seemed that Sectonia’s magic had dealt a blow to the structural integrity of the Infernal Train’s locomotive, as well.

By now the floor had returned to normal, or at least, a normal level of corruption. The instant Absalom broke free, he roared, tentacles lashing around him. Most of his opponents were still in the air. Enduring summoned swords and light stakes for a moment, he sprouted a foul spike with which he took aim at the largest group of fliers. Uriel, the fasted among them, dodged reflexively. But Absalom adjusted his aim upward and fired the spike into the ceiling above them, where it embedded itself with a heft impact. As soon as it took root, tendrils of corruption sprouted that reached down to ensnare Absalom’s foes by their throats or wings. He then charged across the arena, away from Sectonia’s blade rain, and quickly reached his axe. The former Nephilim took Absolution in hand, then passed it to his left arm for a wildly extended slash at Roxas, Pit, and Edward. Without missing a beat he coated his axeblade in corruption, then swung it to launch a barrage of explosive clusters at the fliers. This battle was far from over.

Forbidden Kingdom: Meridi-at-Han

Level 8 Goldlewis (95/80) Level 2 Grimm (5/20)
Primrose’s @Yankee Roland’s @Archmage MC Zenkichi’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN the Witch’s @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: 1995

Not knowing how the gaunt ringmaster of the phantom troupe would take the news, Goldlewis was glad that his mention of a campaign to eliminate Galeem seemed to pique Grimm’s interest. Before he could elaborate, he received another pleasant surprise: that the Witch seemed to be tagging along as well. With his focus on the uneven footpath ahead, or on Grimm when he could spare it, he hadn’t noticed the slight, darkly-dressed magician materialize out of Meridi-at-han’s darkness until she announced herself. All sorts of nebulous phantasms danced in the torchlight after all, even without any nightmarish flame-rituals in progress. He was still somewhat on edge thanks to the chaotic nighttime fights and frights, a situation that Sandalphon’s unforeseen announcement didn’t exactly help, but the fact that both former combatants chose to give the Seekers a chance still amused him as a funny twist of fate.

That said, soon after the group waved goodbye to Kayna and Avmar, the Witch made her personality known along with her presence. After weaseling her way in rather closely, practically joining herself to Goldlewis at the hip, she requested more details in a way that elicited a raised eyebrow. Her voice carried a certain level of zest, which combined with her somewhat hammy word choice suggested to the veteran that this spellcaster wasn’t all there. When his perturbed glance drove them to meet eyes, he couldn’t help but note that strange fervor that glittered within the Witch’s unusually vivid blue eyes. Eyes like those weren’t exactly common on the battlefield, but Goldlewis had seen soldiers with a similar sort of gusto before, and he knew to be wary of them. Those weren’t the men who enlisted for the money, or out of a sense of duty. They were men possessed by some instinctive drive to kill, an impulse passed down through the ages from the brains of primitive man, strained through the sieve of civilization but never wholly filtered out. Such urges had their uses when one’s objective was ultimately to kill something, and the Seekers needed all the help they could get in the fight against Galeem, but Goldlewis resolved then and there to watch his back around this newcomer. The fresh corpses shambling in her wake spoke to a ghoulish disregard for the sanctity of both life and death, and if this Witch’s wicked appetites went unsatisfied for too long, his back would be much easier to stab than Galeem’s. His grip tightened around the chain of the massive coffin carried over his shoulder.

At the very least, if the Witch chose to proceed with the Seekers, she would soon find herself divested of her cadaverous companions. Goldlewis continued his explanation as his team drew nearer to the plateau city’s main gate. “Well, here’s the deal,” he told the two initiates. “Galeem floats high above the hole in the continent’s center. But even if we flew up there we couldn’t do anythin’ about it, ‘cause it’s protected by its chosen Guardians. Thirteen of ‘em, scattered across this here World o’ Light, each doggone one sustainin’ some kind o’ barrier that keeps the big cheese safe an’ sound. Some of ‘em out in the open, others buried deep in hidin’ beneath layers of buildin’s and bureaucracy. Trackin’ ‘em down as sortin’ ‘em out has been our mission so far, and it’s challenged us somethin’ fierce.” He put on a reassuring grin. “Luckily, you folks came at a good time. So far our crew’s taken out six of the sumbitches, leavin’ just seven before Galeam’s ripe for the pickin’. And if Sandy’s roundin’ us up, chances are good we’re just about ready to scratch one more off the list. So y’all ain’t gonna have to wait long for things to heat up.” Hopefully the Witch wouldn’t get too excited, though given her macabre proclivities and what he’d learned about the Dead Zone, she very well might end up being in her element.

Just over a minute later, the team passed beneath Meridi-at-han’s main gate. Outside, the city lights gave way to the dark of night, with only the eerie light of the decrepit moon illuminating the vast expanse of dense rainforest. A veritable mountain of well-worn stairs led down, down, down to the banks of the great river that snaked through the region. Beyond the reach of its jungled tributaries, Goldlewis could see the fiery glow of Death Mountain to the north, smoking and smoldering roughly halfway between the Hannish city-state and the sinister shroud of darkness that hung over the City That Never Was. At his back hung Meridi-at-han’s iconic all-seeing eye, affixed to the main gate as a baleful reminder that all duplicity would in time be laid bare beneath the light. After a momentary pause to catch his breath, Goldlewis lifted his index and forefinger to his ear, resummoning the magic glyph. “We’ve reached the extraction zone, Halo. Gonna need two extra Fultons. Over.”

“Perfect timing, Mustang” the operator answered, her response immediate. “ETA five seconds. Over.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Right on time, a beam of light dropped from the starry heavens. The radiant sky-blue pillar lasted only an instant, and when the flash subsided, a woman stood atop a sigil burned into the ground. She was tall, a few inches over six feet, with pale skin and short, silvery-white hair with a couple long curls like little wings in flight. Her gray lipstick matched the bags under her eyes, which possessed black irises and pupils of bright greenish turquoise, not dots but thick rings with a vertical line at the apex. Most remarkable, maybe, was the extravagant halo that hung over her head, lavishly embellished with gold and an additional loop on each side. From the joints dangled long, flexible cords with golden widgets on the ends, one pinched between the woman’s long, slender fingers and held to her lips like a microphone. Her triple halo shone with soft golden light, like sunbeams through gray stormclouds, and it illuminated a rather businesslike outfit. A black tie hung down from the collar of her blue office shirt, itself split at her ample chest into an upper portion with her sleeves and a lower portion resembling a button-up tube top, and several black belts adorned her darkly-colored slacks. Over it all she sported a long white coat with a decidedly western fringe, worn low around her shoulders, and her boots matched its color. In the crook of her arm was tucked a high-tech gunstaff with featherlike protrusions on its head, and she held a satchel in her hand. To some this woman might seem beautiful; to others, an otherworldly entity that did not at all belong.

“Good evening.” From moment one, the newcomer’s eyes were on Zenkichi. Her pupils changed into sparkles, and a smile flitted across her otherwise placid face, but she composed herself a second later. Seeing Grimm and the Witch, she bowed her head respectfully. “I am the archangel Sandalphon, servant of the Illian Church. In the past I have led the Apostles of Grams, the Apostolic Knights of Laterano, and the YoRHa subunit of DespoRHado Enforcement, LLC. It would be my pleasure to welcome you to our organization, and aid you from here on out.” Releasing her microphone, she took her satchel in hand, opened it to reveal a number of drab nylon packs, and then placed it on the ground. “Everyone, please take and affix a Fulton device, then prepare for ascension.”

Sandalphon’s odd eyes, which had yet to blink, settled on the Witch’s zombies. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough Fultons to bring along your…entourage.” With a wave of her hand, the stone step beneath her turned cerulean blue. Then in a single, fluid motion she flipped her staff around, and fired a bolt of ether from the hip. It shot straight through a zombie’s eye, and with a groan it slumped to the ground. “Since we are not scheduled to return here, we should eliminate any potential hazards,” the archangel explained impassively. Another pull of the trigger, and the Witch’s second zombie was dead once more.

Her decisive action elicited a raised eyebrow from Goldlewis, who resumed putting on his Fulton once the bodies hit the floor. “These damn things. Still ain’t used to ‘em.” He shrugged in resignation, then cleared his throat. “Ahem. Just put it on, pull the cord, and keep your eyes shut. If you don’t pass out…well, don’t look down.” Yet again Grimm didn’t know what he was looking at, but if he had any concerns, the troupe master didn’t voice them. Instead he reached a long arm down and selected a Fulton that he lifted by one edge held between his bladelike claws. As he mimicked Goldlewis in order to put it on, the veteran furrowed his brows. “Come to think of it, ain’t you got a circus to run? You’re fine just leavin’ all your buddies behind?”

The question didn’t seem to bother Grimm. “We all have our parts to play. Even if the flames beckon us in different directions, our paths will surely converge. Just as they always have.”

One by one, the Seekers fastened on their Fultons and yanked their cords. From each device, a balloon exploded outward and inflated incredibly quickly, and a second after each reached its full size, it yanked its wearer skyward at terrifying -and somewhat comical- speeds. Goldlewis blacked out once again, and not even Grimm could withstand the absurd g-force. Sandalphon, meanwhile, just watched them go, and after the final one shot up into the night, she simply teleported back from whence she came.

Goldlewis regained his senses in a long, spacious room that resembled a hangar, albeit one with a very low roof. Just as he remembered it, it contained plenty of navigation equipment, racks of Fulton devices, four Hellpod launching systems, and the belt of pods that fed into it. This was the Deployment Bay, which along with the steady hum of alien engines and the subtle movement of the metal floor beneath his feet, indicated that he was back aboard the Avenger at last. He and the others had been picked up and deposited in the belly of the beast–how, he wasn’t quite sure, but the veteran figured neither he nor anyone else needed to know. The fact that it worked reliably was good enough. It had been almost a week since he last set foot aboard this titanic airship. Given his past aboard military vessels he’d adjusted pretty well, and figured he would again, but the new initiates (who he guessed came from fantasy worlds) would probably need some help.

“Welcome aboard.” Once Sandalphon teleported in, she assumed the task of newcomer orientation. “This is the Avenger, our mobile base of operations. Think of it like a flying fortress. It comes equipped with various amenities, including living quarters, restrooms, a mess haul, and various workshops with different specialties. Please feel free to explore within reason and speak to the Lost Numbers, should you have any questions or concerns.” She pointed Grimm and the Witch toward an interior map on the wall. “It is likely that your first mission will start tomorrow.”

Intrigued, Goldlewis crossed his arms. “Y’all got the rain issue figured out?”

The archangel nodded. “We believe so. I’ll relate the details during tomorrow’s brief.” With that, she turned to leave. “If you need me, I’ll be in the communications center. We have two more pickups to coordinate tonight.” Realizing how late she’d be up, yet again, Sandalphon let out an uncharacteristic sigh. “I should requisition another serving of coffee.”

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

Lewa

For some time after the church turned out to be dead end, the Toa of Air just wandered Nieve. He didn't stumble around like a drunkard, overcome with despair, but the jungle ranger still lacked the urban experience to plot anything resembling a purposeful course through the city as he searched for Rayne the Knight Witch. Considering that the mage couldn't do much about the little one's condition during the cross-country trip, Lewa didn't exactly have high hopes that the news about the girl's heritage would allow Rayne to whip up a solution from nowhere, but any idea was better than none. Besides, he reasoned that the more he saw of human civilization, the less of a mystery their daily life would be to him. This line of logic turned his brisk stroll through Nieve into something of a tour, his bright green eyes wide open as he strove to observe every detail.

Not everyone liked having a 'golem' observe their day-to-day activities, but the average citizen didn't seem to mind Lewa as long as he maintained a respectful distance. He certainly got his fair share of curious stares as he walked around, what with the little girl in his arms at all. The questioning looks thrown Lewa's way almost amused him; these people had no idea just how happy he would be to be rid of this impossible burden. That said, the toa could not bring himself to resent the stolid fae enough to leave her in any danger, so unless he happened upon any magical orphanages (and learned about the whole concept of orphans in the process) his charge would stay right where she was. Of course, the possibility of Anne or another otherworlder taking revenge on him if the girl came to harm had not vacated his mind.

Together, the two of them observed all kinds of ordinary things, united in their lack of understanding. They watched couples argue, professionals like smiths and bakers at work, haggling at market stalls, inspections, artistic signs and lavish storefronts, and so forth. Lewa regretted that his unfortunate circumstances had dulled his sense of wonderment, last whetted when he set out to explore the jungles of Le-wahi for the first time. With death and devastation as his tutorial in this world, the sight of mundane, peaceful scenes set him at ease a little. Even if much of what Lewa saw seemed alien to him, he could also see elements of Matoran society at work here, too. Maybe this world and his own weren't as impossibly different as they first seemed. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about Mata Nui, and the Le-matoran. Their fate could hang in the balance right now, and here he was watching merchants arrange their produce.

Eventually, a little luck came Lewa's way. He happened to stumble into a couple of his fellow otherworlders outside a building known as the Mage's Guild. A local who'd heard a little of Lewa's plight had directed him this way in the hopes that the arcanists here could help him somehow, and the toa was happy to see some familiar faces. Unfortunately Rayne wasn't among them, but Anne was. Before he learned just how bad his prospects had been, he'd been aggrieved by what he viewed as sabotaging his efforts, but while he still felt a little annoyed by her presumptuousness, grudges just weren't in his nature. "Oh, hello," he greeted them, his manner subdued. "What have you all been up to?"

He followed along with the others, listening to the details of their assignment on the way. This group seemed a bit excessive for the task of fetching some materials, but it wasn't like Lewa had anywhere better to be. On the way, he explained what little he learned about the girl in his care--after trying to give her back to Anne, at least. "The person I met-spoke with said that she is a Fae, a long-lived being of a 'magical' nature," he told the others, the unfamiliar word strange on his lips. "She is not hurt-sick, but has something amiss spiritually. Would that a Turaga were around to speak-offer guidance." Nobody was more in-tune with the Great Spirit than each village elder. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued, his tone a little more pointed. "I am not fit to be the caregiver-guardian of a normal child, let alone a Fae. Please do not leave one's wellbeing in my hands."

Eventually, the members of the group who knew where they were going led the rest to a certain street in the city's northernmost district, where they found the shop indicated by the woman named Serena. Unlike most of Nieve, where the scarcity of real estate made space a hot commodity, this establishment shared no walls with any neighboring structures. It also seemed...well, for lack of a better word, dead. Lewa couldn't make out any sign of light or human activity within its windows. Still, the impatient Remilia quickly admitted herself, albeit with an atypical expression. Something was evidently wrong. "Blood?" Lewa, naturally, couldn't smell anything. "I guess you're the one who'd know." He carefully stepped inside after her, peering around. Even here, people were getting hurt? "I thought this city-place was safe? Was there some kind of accident...?" His lime-green eyes scanned the darkness as he conducted a careful search for any signs of danger. While nothing suggested the presence of any enemies, and he didn't want to alarm any shopkeepers, his hand never wandered far from the shaft of his axe. After the centipede ambush days ago, he was determined to err on the side of caution.

World of Light: the Endless Now

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Level 14 Ms Fortune (66/140)
@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Yankee @Zoey Boey @Double @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 1519

No matter how Juri sliced it, one versus eleven made for pretty bad odds. Under normal circumstances the martial artist would be more than capable of turning the tide against mooks of this caliber, then challenging Mabuchi herself, but Nadia’s sabotage really threw a wrench in the works. Thanks to the opportunistic interference of the feral Juri found herself taking extra hits while missing out on other opportunities, and it took no time at all for her frustration to reach its boiling point. Nadia couldn’t lie; seeing that she’d actually gotten under her rival’s skin gave her a sense of karmic satisfaction.

But not for long.

There was no denying that Juri deserved a little comeuppance. For the entire time they butted heads in Carnival Town, Nadia had been aware of the hooligan’s exploits. She beat people up, shook them down, and went out of her way to ruin everyone’s day, explicitly preferring to go after the weak and helpless. That probably went double after Nadia flew the coop, leaving her rival free to run amok though Carnival Town. And who could say what she’d been up to over the last week on the Mafia’s payroll? She wouldn’t put murder past Juri. But despite all that, once Nadia’s initial elation wore off, she wound up feeling rather…bad.

Maybe it was the look on Juri’s face, or the uncommonly genuine rancor behind her words, or the fact that these gangsters were really hurting her, but her rival’s misery quickly stopped bringing her joy. Nadia’s smiles and laughter weren’t always genuine to begin with, but now her mirth felt especially forced, and not even for a good reason. When the feral got sloppy and received a wheeling kick to the sternum, she took Juri’s advice and made herself scarce.

The Mafia Ball that followed was pretty funny, to be fair, but even once the super-sized circus act got underway Nadia kept her distance. Once the heat of the moment died out, she felt even worse about her disingenuous attempts to give Juri a taste of her own medicine. Sure, this syndicate showdown would probably have lasting repercussions for Mafia Town, but Nadia had no horse in this race. No matter which mobster sat in that chair, the townsfolk needed people like her to keep them safe–right now more than ever. She knew that she should’ve stayed down on the streets, safeguarding the citizens from those wrestlers. Or gone with Junior and Geralt to cut off the source. Anything but screw around up here.

I’m really no better than she is, Nadia thought.

Juri’s shouting drew her attention, and Nadia glanced at the Mafia Ball in time to see Mabuchi go flying from atop it. She proceeded to shout at the Mafia Boss, who gave her an indignant look of severe reproach, seemingly for daring to question him. “There are only two types of Mafia in the Mafia: goons, and the Boss!” He shouted down after her once she jumped down. “If you take the Boss’s money, you’re a goon, no better than any other! So don’t act like it!”

At that point Blazermate flew in from nowhere. Her arrival here wasn’t that much of a surprise given her reputation as a drama-seeking missile, but it did signal to Nadia that things were probably about to get out of hand. When the medabot discharged her built-in Kritzkrieg into the big boss’s Mafia Ball, turning the circus act into a wrecking ball of wanton destruction, Nadia took that as a sign to leave. As she slunk out, she passed by that darkly-clothed rogue on the way in. Had he been waiting in the wings the whole time? She didn’t know what he wanted here, but that didn’t concern her, either. After skirting around him, the cat burglar sprinted through the casino and out into the night.

By the time the newcomer got close enough to scope out the scene, the situation had really devolved into pandemonium. Half of Mabuchi’s men had already been flattened by the amped-up Mafia Ball, and for those still on their feet, avoiding it had become a full-time activity. That went for Mabuchi himself, as well. Though his guandao could deal grievous injuries, and his counter stance slowed down the fight, Juri was getting the better of him as he struggled to stay ahead of the Mafia Ball. Without his healer, the damage just kept piling up, and eventually Juri managed to hurl him straight into a knockout blow from the newcomer. Mabuchi’s weapon clattered to the floor as the man was down for the count.

“Good!” the boss yelled. The Mafia Ball promptly fell apart, its constituents tumbling everywhere. Chrom and Rosanna extracted themselves from the heap, then furiously began to fix their hair and clothes. A number of their comrades remained piled beneath the boss, forming an impromptu throne. “That’s what happens when you mess with the Mafia!” he barked at the groaning gangster. He pushed his cleavers together into their rolling pin storage mode. “Men. Take him away.”

After dismissing Mabuchi with a wave of his hand, he frowned at the newcomer, Juri. “As for you…” Disregarding the usual method of transfer, he reached into his pocket to pull out a big fistful of pons, then tossed them the Spider’s way. They tumbled across the floor, spread out fairly wide. It would take a minute or two of scrounging to recover them all while the whole Mafia watched. “Take it. You’ve earned it.”

Once the Seekers departed for the cargo ship, Bancho Sushi lay in quiet disarray, with only Bancho himself around to witness the disaster. It would take thousands of pons, if not tens of thousands, to undo the damage done to all his wooden furniture, his pantry, the decor, and so forth. Even the fish tank lay in glassy ruins, the last of today’s catch flopping around in the wreckage until Bancho tossed the critters overboard. For someone who prided himself on order, tidiness, and professionalism, this was a true debacle. But the stolid man never complained. After a few minutes, he found his broom amidst the chaos, and began to sweep. Unfortunately, the sushi chef and his establishment weren’t out of the woods just yet.

A loud, sudden slam outside drew Bancho’s attention. When he sidled over to the front of his restaurant for a discreet check, he saw the aftermath of a wrestler-on-wrestler bout. A strong, one-eyed lady wrestler with orange-yellow hair like a microfiber duster, wearing black snakeskin, had just powerbombed a now-dissolving competitor off a building. No sooner had the victor taunted than she set off looking for her next opponent, but by now the pickings seemed slim. As far as Bancho could tell, the Battle Royal Rumble had more or less run its course. At the same time, that meant that only the strongest few remained, and the sushi chef just so happened to have the misfortune of catching the wrestler’s eye.

“There you are! Get yourself ready, ‘cause you’re up against the one. The only. Sunrise Nishisenba!” The lady jogged over with a cocky grin. Bancho retreated, climbing over the wreckage of his tables and bar, but his pursuer elected to go straight through. “Lariat!” Fists outstretched, Nishisenba began to spin, gathering golden energy. “Tequilaaaaaa!” With his eyes on his attacker, Bancho wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and stumbled over a barstool. Just as the wrestler went to unleash her power, however, an electric blur appeared in front of her.

“SUNS- WAGH!” Her special move struck Nadia’s Blue Monday Counter, resulting in a knee to Nishisenba’s gut that launched her into the air. “HOOGH!” Nadia blasted out blood to propel herself forward in a diving grab that tackled the wrestler through the window and into the dock outside.

With the breath driven from her lungs, Nishisenba could only lay there as Nadia rolled to her feet, then swung her arm in an accelerating circle. “Lemme pass you a JOINT!” She fell on her foe with an elbow drop that left Nishisenba stunned, then hopped to her feet once again. “Whew! Sorry lady, but the restaurant’s closed! If you’re hungry, though, you can eat this!” Nadia jumped and landed on the wrestler with her mantreads, smashing her through the dock and into the briny shallows.

After barely managing to grab onto the side of the new hole and clamber up, the catgirl rolled over and let out a sigh of relief. When she opened her eyes, Bancho was standing over her. “You didn’t have to do all that. You okay?”

“Yeah!” Nadia grinned. “I should be askin’ you. When you brought me on tonight, you Ban-chose wisely!”

The sushi chef smiled, then held out his hand. “Mm-hm.” He tried to help pull Nadia to her feet, only to realize that she was almost three times as heavy as she looked. After letting him struggle for a moment Nadia picked herself up with a laugh, then followed her friend inside to help him clean up.

World of Light: the Endless Now

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @Yankee @Double @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

Once regrouped and refueled, the Army of Light made the final fateful push in their battle to cleanse the sky-high holy land from the scourge of corruption once and for all. The final island in the corrupted chain awaited them, darkly ominous even in the light of day, an unflinching and unyielding bastion of unwellness. The land here was sick, a plague-ridden agglomeration of irreparably tainted soil, scabrous outcrops, and night-dark buboes swollen with bilious yellow ichor, eerily silent until the Infernal Train chugged into view. That crawled through pitch-black tunnels and clung to crumbling precipices, a titanic centipede of stone and steel, its legs screaming wheels, its carapace of pointed arches and flying buttresses. It belched out vile smog from its spiraled smokestacks as it ran its sordid route ad nauseam, a perpetual motion war machine. Its mere existence seemed to be a blight on the face of creation itself, permitted to endure for far too long. Today, as attested by the beat of snow-white wings and the chorus of courageous voices, this profane pestilence would come to an end.

As one might expect, though, the first step was a doozy. Even attacking the Infernal Train posed a daunting challenge. The execrable machine moved constantly, faster than most of Skyworld’s angels could fly, so Palutena’s forces would run out of stamina long before their enemy ran out of minions. If the angels threw themselves into the train, though, they would be at the mercy of the virtually limitless monstrosities on board, not to mention intolerably impure surroundings that all but guaranteed corruption. Finally, a fight on the train’s exterior came with a strict time limit, as none of the island’s tunnels offered the necessary amount of clearance. Fortunately, the angels’ commanders had come up with an alternative. As Pit led his powerful new allies onto the train, his elite strike force sure to stir the hornets’ nest, Uriel spread her troops out along the tracks, where they’d hover beyond the wretches’ reach. When the train passed by, they’d swoop in with blade and arrow, not just to strike the foul things down but to goad them away from the train en masse. With Nathaniel and Fodoquia spearheading this operation to ensure its success, the multitudinous horrors would be diverted from Uriel and the Seekers, allowing them to fight through a much more manageable horde and get straight to the heart of the matter.

After all, everything learned so far by Celia’s scouts indicated that in all its manifestations, each instance of corruption stemmed from a singular source. Once the strike team cut off the head, the body would die.

When the Seekers approached with Ortho in the lead, the train itself seemed to register the threat. A repugnant slurry of congealed corruption erupted from its windows as the angelic beast approached, each volley of volatile ejecta akin to a miniature army’s worth of crossbow bolts. Ortho was nothing if not agile though, and when he dropped off Edelgard and Roxas, the Seekers’ assault began. With the help of Uriel’s near-lightspeed swordplay, amplified by her Dawnbreaker blade and explosive holy light spikes, the boarding party chewed through the Infernal Train’s welcoming committee. After a liberal application of might and magic, the team breached the contraption’s gothic exterior, and forged into the belly of the beast.

Indeed, stepping into the corruption’s stronghold felt like being eaten by some aberrant monstrosity. While the outside at least resembled conventional architecture, the inside was crusted in tarry black corruption, old, hard, and littered with yellow crystalline deposits. It was hot, humid, and loud; many of the noises that reached the intruders sounded disturbingly biological. A foil smell filled their noses and lungs, and they instinctively knew that they’d need to work fast. It wasn’t dark, though, thanks to the countless slitted yellow eyes embedded in the walls. Whether feeding what they saw to some sort of central intelligence or not, they stared and stared and stared, the unwholesome glare of their sclera lighting the way.

Even with the Army of Light’s efforts to draw the bulk of the corrupted out of the train, the Seekers encountered staunch resistance. Again and again they found themselves assailed by malignant masses of limbs, mouths, and machinery, many with cannons as well as claws. With no two monsters alike, unpredictability proved to be their greatest weapon, but for the most part these wretches favored quantity over quality. Uriel wasted no words on them, keeping her lips pursed in perennial disgust as her brilliant blade danced in the dark. Together the Seekers cleared room after room, and with only so much real estate between their entry point and the train’s locomotive, it wasn’t long before they reached their final destination.

The cathedral that formed the front of the train was the grandest by far, its interior more spacious than the rest. Much like in the Ivory Citadel, this sanctum contained a figurehead of corruption in the form of an individual rather than some bloated, pulsating organ, but the being that stood before the Seekers was no Legion, long since overtaken and reduced to a hollow vessel. Instead they found themselves confronted by a towering warrior, about twelve feet tall. The corruption that formed his skin was masterfully woven, stretched over bulging muscles and odd blue crystal spikes, especially around his deformed left arm. Corrupted tendrils extended from his back, but he wore runic graves of obvious quality, along with a barbaric helmet. In his right hand he clutched an axe of terrifying size and appearance, its blade a skull-faced slab and its shaft lined with eyes. And though he seemed less far gone than the monsters that dwelled in this place, the corruption practically wept from him. He breathed its odious vapors from his toothy maw, and it was the heart that beat in his chest, surfaced in the form of blindly gazing eyes. This was the corruption’s source.

“The Avatar of Chaos,” Uriel hissed, tightening her grip on her sword. “Absalom.”

“No…” the warrior growled, hefting his axe Absolution onto his shoulder. “I am Corruption. And soon…you will be, too.” Absalom roared and swung his axe, hurling corrupt land mines far and wide.

Forbidden Kingdom: Meridi-at-Han

Level 8 Goldlewis (92/80) Level 2 Grimm (2/20)
@Yankee @Archmage MC @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: 2024

Among the shadows cast by the sinister glow of scarlet torches, the fervid foxtrot between Grimm and the Witch continued. They leaped and twirled, every move more intense than the last as the dancers strove to take one another’s breath away. It didn’t matter how many concerned onlookers their increasingly unsubtle dance enthralled, these two only had eyes -and flames- for one another. Maddened by the light of Galeem that smoldered in the coals of their eyes, this wildfire would burn until only ash remained.

Yet even as the flow of battle grew fiercer, just like a river winding toward a waterfall, it also steered toward an inescapable conclusion. While Grimm put his best foot forward, his injured leg held him back, and with an inexplicably limited repertoire of moves at his disposal he could not give his performance the variety it needed to keep his counterpart on her toes. Each splash of blood torn from his body by the Witch’s magic was one he wouldn’t get back, while her veil of enchantments gave her own vitality a buffer that proved vitally important. Second by second, it became increasingly clear to the spectators that the Troupe Master was falling behind, unable to span the widening gulf between his condition and the Witch’s. Even then, though, the Grimmkin did not interfere. If anything, their unintelligible chatter grew more frenzied, each masked specter bobbing up and down in excitement. Other members of the Grimm Troupe like Brumm, Divine, and the Shadows lacked their macabre glee, but they still watched with intense interest. Many of these bugs had seen this song and dance before, after all. They knew what the Witch didn’t–that the defeat of the Troupe Master wasn’t an end, but a beginning.

Dozens of eager eyes watched, dying to know what would happen next, as Grimm’s health neared the one-third mark. This time, once he burst into a swarm, the Witch knew to descend on those bugs like a starving bat. It was the point of no return, and having smelled her opponent’s blood, she knew it. While the others stood back and watched, however, one observer took action. In an act of charity, and to repay the Troupe Master for his earlier assistance, Roland took the dance floor and inserted himself into the melee.

Of course, when an uninvited guest appeared in the midst of his two-person tango to impede him, Grimm couldn’t fathom that the man meant to help him. Instead he lashed out, angered by this impudent interruption in his time-honored ritual. Whether this man meant to interfere on the Witch’s behalf or merely acted out of wanton irreverence, Grimm would not spare him; once could not throw oneself into the flames and expect to escape unburnt. Instead of Roland’s throat, however, Grimm’s claws met his staff-sized paintbrush. The Fixer deftly parried him, then in that moment of vulnerability, locked him down in the grip of shadowy tendrils. Grimm struggled drunkenly, his slender frame possessed of surprising strength, but before he could break loose Roland endowed him with more freedom that he could ever have possibly imagined.

In an instant the Troupe Master’s violent energy left him, and as Roland’s tentacles receded Grimm slumped to his knees, his cape spread out around him like the webbing of a vampire squid. His head hung forward, his scarlet eyes unfocused, but devoid of Galeem’s delirious luster. Thanks to the Friend Heart his head was clear, and his injuries were gone. In an instant, all the incremental progress made by the Witch had been erased. She still wanted him dead, of course, but Roland stood by to prevent further damage while Primrose stepped up to attend to the Witch herself. In the span of just a few short moments, the fiery dance of death had been cut short. All around the Grimmkin gibbered and chittered in a mixture of confusion and disappointment, some floating over to check on Grimm while most simply faded away into the dark of night. Regardless of how it happened, it seemed that the show was over.

As the apparitions drifted away and the scarlet flames subsided, the abandoned market lost its fearsome, fiendish aspect. The dark shadows that cavorted so evilly shrank back to how they should be, while the hissing, swollen flames of the candles and torches surrendered their uncanny synchronicity. High overhead the wind picked up, and the stars twinkled once more. Cowed crickets and cicadas in the vicinity mustered their courage to fill the dead air with nightsong, and Brumm soon joined them with his organic xylophone to try and restore the festival atmosphere. Meridi-at-han citizens began to drift back toward the scene, and after another moment Grimm rose to his feet, his head raised. If Roland still felt apprehensive about Grimm going ape once freed of Galeem’s grasp, the silent bow directed his way would assuage his worries. That said, Grimm wasn’t quite finished with the Witch yet. Even if their dance hadn’t reached its thrilling conclusion, their ritualistic duel -performed in ignorance or otherwise- had borne fruit. With deliberate slowness, Grimm extended a hand from beneath his cloak and snapped his fingers. About a foot away, scarlet flames began to gather, as if filtering through into the material plane from some infernal netherworld. When they coalesced, the Troupe Master was no longer alone.

For Grimm

New ability:
Grimmchild
An floating insectoid apparition that Grimm can summon or absorb as desired. It cannot take damage, but is able to open its mouth and spit scarlet fireballs that deal low damage. In Grimm’s vicinity, the bad dreams of others will manifest as Nightmare Flames, and the Grimmchild can eat them. Every three times its fed, the Grimmchild will grow stronger, maxing out at nine meals. Once fully fed, a new Ability will be available for purchase to Grimm. The Grimmchild can also be assigned a chaperone that it will follow and assist in battle. It can whisper to Grimm what it sees

An insect floated next to him on six black ribbon wings, with a shell as black and a mask as white as Grimm’s own. For a moment the Troupe Master just stared at it, but he soon turned toward the Witch and offered her another bow. ”Bravo, my friend. Did you hear how the crowd adored you? They’ve not seen such a show in a long time.” His razor-sharp whisper featured a faint air of smugness, as if the opponent he fought so fiercely had done him an important service. ”Look here. How our child has grown, nourished and strengthened by the heat of our passionate dance.” His gaze lingered on the Witch, but after another second or two he held out his cape, and the Grimmchild darted beneath it. ”Our dance remains incomplete. It may be some time before the Ritual is finished. Later, perhaps, the stars will be right for another dance. Our scarlet eyes will watch you keenly…friend.”

With that, the conflict seemed to be defused. Still tense even after the fighting stopped, Goldlewis finally let out a sigh of relief. Given the potential volatility of this situation, he’d been happy to leave breaking up this battle in Roland and Primrose’s capable hands. If he’d been forced to step in, he doubted that things would’ve been wrapped up so neatly. His coffin was many things, but a precision instrument it was not, and for all the veteran’s strength, Grimm seemed liable to slip through his grasp like smoke between his fingers. “Whoo-whee.” He shook his head. “I dunno what in sam hill had y’all scrappin’ so bad, but I ain’t sorry to see it over with. As if burnin’ that doggone tent down wasn’t bad enough, y’all were fixin’ to burn the whole dadgum market to the ground in the crossfire. Downright irresponsible, ‘specially when the city’s dealin’ with a damn monster attack, good Lord. I reckon you’ve done enough playin’ with fire for one evenin’.”

When Grimm just stared at him wordlessly, Goldlewis looked away and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, anyhow, we probably oughta give y’all the rundown on the way things are, seein’ as you ain’t gleamin’ any more. Why don’t we-”

Without warning a blue sigil flared to life next to the veteran’s head, and a deadpan, proper-sounding female voice rang out through the area. “Attention Mustang, this is Halo, please copy, over.”

“Gah!” The sudden voice startled Goldlewis, who flinched away from the noise like someone might a gunshot. It took Grimm by surprise too, all the more cause for concern because the Troupe Master didn’t know what he was looking at. He blinked, confused, then looked around as if hoping for an explanation. Once Goldlewis rolled his eyes, shaking his head, Grimm seemed to understand that this outburst wasn’t anything to be worried about, and after heaving a deep sigh the veteran put two fingers to the glyph to reply. “Yeah, I copy, Halo. You called at one hell of a time, lemme tell ya. We just wrapped up a surprise attack from three giant monsters. Ended up freein’ a couple…” Looking at Grimm, ‘civvy’ didn’t feel like the right word. “A couple locals as well. Over.”

The woman on the other end of this supernatural phone line seemed unfazed by the news. “Everyone’s in good condition, I trust. Over.”

“Uh huh.” Goldlewis crossed his arms, staring off into the starry heavens. “So how’re things lookin’ up there? Been meanin’ to get in touch. We’ve done just about all we can down here, so I’m thinkin’ it’s about time we scheduled some kinda pickup. Uh, over.”

“Agreed. The Avenger is en route to Meridi-at-han as we speak. Please proceed outside city limits and notify me once you’re clear. I’ll join you there.” The operator paused. “Should I bring any additional Fulton devices? Over”

Goldlewis had already started to motion for Primrose, Roland, and Zenkichi to follow him in the direction of the city’s main gate, as if they hadn’t heard his contact’s instructions for themselves. When questioned, though, the veteran paused to narrow his eyes in the direction of Grimm and the Witch. “I’ll let you know when we reach exfil. Might have some explainin’ to do on the way.”

For a moment there was radio silence. Then the lady on the other end spoke tentatively. “Over?”

“Huh?” Goldlewis furrowed his brow.

“You didn’t say ‘over’,” the operator informed him, her tone matter-of-fact.

Goldlewis grunted in a guess we’re doing this again kind of way, then set off at a brisk trot. “Hey, you didn’t either.”

“I did,” the voice insisted. “All my communications ended with ‘over’. Including that one.” She paused. “Over.”

“This conversation is over.” With a wave of his hand Goldlewis dismissed the magic sigil, then rolled his eyes again. “That woman, I swear,” he joked affectionately.

As the team got underway, carefully navigating through the night-shrouded plateau city as it licked its wounds from the giants’ rampage, Goldlewis became aware of a spindly figure tailing him. The scarlet light of Grimm’s eyes as he drifted from shadow to shadow indicated that the Troupe Master had accepted his invitation. Goldlewis slowed his pace, allowing the other Seekers to take the lead in order to fall in alongside the potential initiate. He still didn’t know quite what to make of Grimm, who seemed dangerous and eccentric even by Seeker standards, but if the big bug wanted to know more about the campaign against Galeem, Goldlewis wasn’t going to disappoint him. And if he signed up, he wouldn’t even be the first oversized insect on the roster, anyway. “Howdy there, partner. We ain’t been formally introduced, have we? My name’s Goldlewis Dickinson, and this here team’s just a small part of the Seekers of Light–the light bein’ Galeem, and when we get done seekin’ ‘im, there ain’t gonna be anythin’ left.”

Grimm digested the man’s summary impassively, then whispered his reply. ”Go on.”

World of Light: the Endless Now

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Headquarters

Level 14 Ms Fortune (63/140)
@Zoey Boey @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 1053

Nadia hadn’t expected her unannounced arrival to lead to any tearful reunions, but true to form her nemesis never missed a beat when it came to putting the cat burglar down. When Juri mentioned a schoolgirl crush in that disingenuous drawl of hers, she earned herself a hearty snort of derision. “You flatter yourself,” Nadia told her, hands on her hips. Anyone else squaring up to face off against ten armed men might have courted some backup a little more tactfully, but naturally the same hooligan who assumed herself a Consul’s equal wouldn’t think she needed any help against a force like this. Thanks to that repellent attitude of hers, Juri was about to bite off a lot more than she could chew.

A slight, almost imperceptible sound made the feral’s ear twitch, and just to be safe Nadia cast a quick glance back the way she came. For a moment she didn’t see anything, but her keen eyes quickly picked up on furtive movement in the shadows of the theater’s main entrance. She realized that someone else was here, a man judging by the partial silhouette against the backlight of the casino down the hall. For a brief moment she peered his way, the electric blue irises of her feline peepers subtly aglow, like a plasma TV screen. Had he tailed her here, turning the follower into the followed? Admittedly the lion’s share of her focus had been on her own quarry, but this man must be good to have evaded her notice until now.

Unfortunately, Juri didn’t give her much time to think about the stealthy stranger’s presence. The mouthy martial artist’s latest taunt made Nadia’s decision for her. As Juri restarted the brawl by throwing herself into battle, the feral bared her teeth in an evil smile. She wasn’t allergic to fun or money by any means. “Just you,” she hissed.

In the chaos that followed Juri’s assault, Mabuchi’s whole entourage got mixed up in the melee. With so much jostling, getting a clean shot on the guandao-wielding gangster would be a challenge even for the likes of Snake, and things were only getting more wild from here. Nadia dashed in behind Juri, a grin on her face. “Here, lemme give you a hand!” Using pressurized blood she launched her hand like a grappling hook on a rope of corded muscle fiber, grabbing hold of Juri’s calf. Then the shameless saboteur tugged in an attempt to yank Juri off her feet and send her sprawling. “Enjoy the trip, nyahaha!” As the fight with Mabuchi’s minions continued, Nadia would interfere again and again, messing with Juri as much as possible. Grappling with her extendable limbs was just the beginning; she’d also try to create slicks using her own blood, use Charge to blitz through her, and so forth, even if she took a retaliatory hit or two in so doing. If really turned on, she would flee to give the henchmen the chance to attack, then return with infuriating purr-sistence a few moments later. And of course, if her rival abandoned the mobsters’ feud to give Nadia her full attention, the feral would happily oblige. That cocky thug was overdue for a well-deserved beatdown, after all, but even if she gave up on the gangsters, Galeem’s influence meant that the men she attacked wouldn’t be so quick to return the favor.

Especially compared to the pushovers that constituted the bulk of the Mafia of Cooks, Mabuchi’s men weren’t exactly easy pickings. Of the eight still on their feet, one wielded a knife, one a hammer, three had claw weapons, and two had guns, a pistol and a shotgun respectively. The last one, the most well-built and well-equipped of the bunch, actually brandished a surfboard. While the others attacked on Mabuchi’s behalf, the aquanaut used Beachside Bro-BQ to manifest a portable grill laden with skewered a’awa. When he hoisted the Hawaiian hogfish into the air, his whole team received a burst of health that allowed his two lacerated comrades to get to their feet and continue the fight. If everyone seemed capable enough, the aquanaut would happily switch from support to offense and unleash wide-ranging water-aspected attacks with flippers, frozen tuna, or his surfboard.

For a little while the Mafia Boss just stared at the mayhem unfolding beneath him, mouth slightly ajar. When it became clear that Juri wouldn’t be able to turn the tide in his favor with Nadia on her case, however, he ground his teeth in frustration. “Fine, I’ll do it myself!” He began to spin with blades extended, whirling like a top toward the mob. In response, Mabuchi disentangled himself from the melee and took a defensive stance. When the boss struck him, he struck back with a Resolute Counter, but the slash seemed to enrage the boss more than anything. “Bow down!” He leaped back toward his throne, then threw himself into another wild revolution. “Super charge!” Lightning flashed and sparks flew across the floor, but his opponent evaded them one by one. By the time that the boss got too dizzy to spin anymore, Mabuchi was close enough to extend a Petal Blossom Kick and knock the boss back, his defense reduced.

Flames seemed to dance around the boss as he yelled in anger, swinging his arms and stamping his feet. “Enough games!” He roared. “Mafiaaaaaaaaaaaaa…!” At his summons, all the Mafia goons scattered across the island suddenly and inexplicably flew his way, phasing through solid matter in order to pile up beneath his feet. This included Chrom, Rosanna, and -much to her chagrin- Juri. After just a second, so many underlings had clumped together that their bodies formed a giant sphere beneath him. “BALL!”

To Nadia, the spectacle was as incredible as it was hilarious. “No. Freaking. Way.”

Rosanna’s exasperated voice issued from somewhere within the sphere. “I hate it when he does this…” Chrom just groaned, hoping that nobody saw her in such a reputation-ruining stunt.

Gleefully unbothered, the boss began to roll the huge ball around to crush his enemies beneath his organization’s weight. Mabuchi managed to duck around it and then grab hold of the backside, making his way toward the top of the ball to challenge the boss swashbuckler-style. Nadia made a run for it, cackling all the while, as the usurper’s henchman tried in vain to fight the dreaded Mafia Ball.

World of Light: the Endless Now

Deep Blue Seaside: Mafia Town

Level 14 Ms Fortune (61/140)
@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN @Yankee @Zoey Boey @Double @DisturbedSpec
Word Count: 2128

In the span of just a few moments, Mafia Town was in chaos. Almost a hundred brutish adrenaline junkies of all shapes and sizes, fueled by energy drinks and Mooscles shakes, had rained down across the island city. Eager to be the last man standing, the menagerie of maniacs quickly filled beaches, wharves, rooftops, and streets alike with their violent, theatrical antics. Mafia stooges and hapless citizens alike found themselves irish whipped, sumo slapped, and spear tackled. As she squared off against her newest opponent, though, Nadia tried to tune the rest of the mayhem out. Even if her journey had made her a better team player, after all, this cat burglar always did her best fighting one-on-one. And if that high-visibility hero she dumped into the drink was any indicator, these wanton wrestlers would be easy pickings.

Or so she thought.

Nadia charged forward on all fours, pumping blood in her legs, then released the pent-up pressure to boost into the air. “Careful!” she called down to Bass, popping her head off to use Cat Spike. “I’m always one step a-head!” When she smacked it down with her palm, her head buzzed toward him like a calico circle saw. Bass lifted a strong arm to smack it down, but with her foe’s focus on the projectile, Nadia then flung herself after it in a blood-propelled airdash. The collision between head and hand forced the wrestler to recoil, so even as her head plopped to the ground, Nadia’s body descended on him to start a combo.

“Somer better than others!” From a quick cross slash she somersaulted Into a El Gato axe kick that left Bass doubled over long enough that she could jet her head over and hit him low to keep the combo going. “How’s this for uppsies-ing?” From there she turned her back to stretch her leg upward for a Limber Up launcher, smacked her head with a light kick to get it into position, then wheeled around to nail her foe with a Flying Screen Door reverse overhead kick. Thanks to her setup, her head could then restand him with a quick chomp, and that command grab gave her body more than enough time for a finisher. “Omnomnomnom! Think you got a chance?” she taunted with her mouthful as she used Fluffy Soft to transform her right arm. It swelled in size as stripy fur covered it, turning it into the fearsome limb of a white tiger. “Fur-get it!”

Bass tumbled backward into the wall of Seaside Spaghetti, groaning. Nadia shot him a grin as her arm shifted back, then charged forward, eager to keep up the pressure. Her adrenaline got the better of her, though, and she attacked early, mistiming her meaty. With an angry grunt Bass stepped off-axis, then planted his fist in Nadia’s belly with a terrific lunge punch, his full weight behind it. “GUH!” Spittle flew from the feral’s mouth as she shot backward, eyes and mouth wide open. She hit the ground and skidded atop her rigging pack, her legs only limply flopping down once she came to a stop at the dock’s edge. “Oof. Guess I’m not the only one with a punchline,” she groaned. Her respite came to an end when she spotted Bass barreling toward her, so like an idiot she hopped up and tried to challenge him with a claw swipe. Instead she ate a shoulder barge that made her see stars. Bass stomped the ground for effect, flexing, then walloped her with a massive lariat straight to the chin that sent her hurtling into the water without anywhere near enough time for her rigging to activate.

A moment after splashing down, she burst from the water with a gasp to see Bass slapping his biceps. "I'm just too...damn...STROOOONG!"

Nadia grinned evilly, then dissolved into a bolt of lightning that burst from the steaming surf and blitzed straight through her opponent. When she rematerialized behind him after her Charge, she spun on a dime and unleashed Battery in the form of a double electric claw strike, amped up into a pair of critical hits. Then she gave him a turn in the water with a dropkick, though unlike the cartoon wrestler it seemed it could swim “So you’ve got some skills,” she admitted.”I’ve got a whole lotta nasty sur-purr-rises though, so by the time you figure me out…”

The feral concentrated, reaching deep for her latent power. She willed her the spirit Rhodeia of Loch into momentary existence as a Striker, then stood back as the Oceanid created two Hydro Mimics of Nadia herself–a pair of watery clones with claws almost as sharp as the original. By the time Bass clambered out of the water, he found himself outnumbered three to one. “...The battle’s already over.” Nadia smirked, then pointed the mimics at Bass. “Well? Water you waiting for?”

In a flash the mimics took over the battle, giving Nadia a chance to set back, regenerate, and reassess. When she first joined the fight, her friends -and Juri- hadn’t been far behind her. Juri did a good deed for a day when she came to a woman’s rescue, even if she did immediately spoil the moment. Geralt’s sword skills and secret identities made relatively short work of a troublesome trio. Unfortunately, Junior and Rika did their fighting inside Bancho Sushi, and that brawl completely trashed the place. “Nooo, nooo, nooo…I’m so screwed,” Nadia moaned, her head in her hands. Even the locals were getting in on the action; not too far away, a gruff-looking man with a metal horn and a form-fitting suit had nonlethally disposed of not one but two rogue wrestlers. Of course, there were plenty more where they came from. With abundant enemies and less room to maneuver, the fighting got fiercer in the upper levels where Juri was headed. Just what was that psycho planning…?

Nadia’s attention returned to Bass just as he powerbombed her one of her copycats into oblivion. “Wow, this musclehead isn’t just built…he’s just built different!” Noticing that the Hydro Mimics’ attacks left the man Wet, she blasted through him with another Charge to trigger a painful Conducted reaction, then whipped around with a tail slap to knock him down. From there, all the feral needed to do was leap into the air, then fall on him with her full weight behind her modified Mantread boots to leave the man sprawled out and senseless. “Don’t come back for a sequel,” she advised him as the other Hydro Mimic dissolved. “Unless you want to get re-booted!”

She exhaled, then looked around. Down at the docks, Geralt was embarking with Junior and Rika for the cargo ship that brought this crazed crew to Mafia Town’s shores. To her surprise she spotted Dave joining them, outfitted with his wetsuit, a harpoon gun, and a Net Gun. She considered going with them, especially since she didn’t want to see Dave come to harm, but the people of this Mafia Town needed her help, and she couldn’t help but be curious about what Juri might be up to, besides.

Nadia turned and sprinted away from the dock, heading upward through the narrow, sloped Mafia Town streets with Chucho right behind her. There were hooligans everywhere. Some lay defeated on the cobbles, while others went after townsfolk or even one another. As soon as possible she scaled a building and took to the rooftops, leaping and climbing with catlike agility. Even then, though, she couldn’t escape the chaos forever. She ran into two portly female wrestlers, one dressed like a cow in a purple gi and the other an undead pirate, who’d just finished taking out an enormous invader in a dog costume. “Ladies! What’s good?” Nadia struck the pirate before she realized, starting an Unchain combo with a Step that brought her in close enough for a Hammer Blow overhead punch as the Unchain Circle. For the Unchain Finisher she launched a powerful upward lariat of her own, and Chucho followed up with Thus Spoke Pickles to blast the woman out of the air with psychic starlight. “‘Mind’ your head!” Nadia crowed.

The karate cow lashed out with Diamond Crusher, a powerful blow below the belt that would’ve left Nadia in a world of hurt if it connected. Instead, the feral cashed in a stock of Dramatic Tension to unveil her Blue Monday Counter, catching her attacker with her knee. Stunned, the brute couldn’t do much but yell as Nadia grabbed her by the black belt and flipped overhead, her arms made into tentacles by the extension of her muscle fibers. After slamming the wrestler into the roof, a wildly smiling Nadia whirled her arm around, then fell with a splendid elbow drop into her foe’s belly. It drove the fight right out of her, not to mention the wind from her lungs, and she couldn’t only struggle feebly as Nadia rolled her off the roof.

As she dusted her hands, the feral heard another cannon, and followed the sound toward the upper levels where she spotted a familiar pink-and-black blur flying up toward Mafia HQ. “Hmm…”

When Juri reached the upper plate, she found a grim sight at the doorstep of Mafia HQ. The ashes and spirits of a dozen Mafia grunts, three wrestlers, and a couple of Chinese Gangsters lay scattered around a smashed-in front door. As she entered, passed through the empty casino, and headed toward the theater, the sounds of clanging metal became louder and louder, and when she finally burst into the room Juri could catch a glimpse of the fight herself. A heavy-set man with a white suit, nasty scowl, and an expensive-looking guandao was fighting the Mafia Boss with a gang of ten weapon-toting goons at his back, but the squat, mustached mafioso was holding his own with a pair of cleavers that he wielded against Mabuchi’s polearm.

After a fierce exchange of thrusts, slices, and parries, Mabuchi sent the boss flying back toward his throne with a huge upward slash against the boss’s block, but the short man righted himself midair. He began to spin, electricity coursing through his blades. “Super charge!” When he hit the ground, he unleashed a huge spark that surged along the ground and into Mabuchi’s own block.

The ambitious man grunted as the blast pushed him back. “Get him!” he growled at his underlings, and two of them diligently pushed forward with swords. When the mafia boss stopped his swing, however, he hurled his cleavers like sawblades. They ground into the two men, spraying blood, then flew right back into the boss’s hands. As Mabuchi’s men slumped to the ground, he brandished his weapons, disguising his heavy breathing with a raucous laugh.

“Hahaha! You’re no match for me!” At that moment the boss spotted Juri, and he beckoned her over. “Spider! Just in time! Serve up these small fries for me, and you’ll be richly rewarded!”

As Mabuchi whirled around, realizing that his foes now had him surrounded, footsteps resounded from the hall behind Juri. The next moment Nadia appeared, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she surveyed the inside of the Mafia headquarters for the first time. “Wow, this is where you’ve been hangin’ out? A crummy casino with smelly kitchens?” The feral raised her eyebrow at Juri. “Well. Can’t say it doesn’t suit you!”

“Don’t get cocky!” Mabuchi suddenly thundered. He whirled his Qinglong Yanyuedao overhead, then slammed the hilt against the ground. A nebulous crimson aura seemed to emanate from him. “Send all the fodder you want. It makes no difference to the reaper!”

Even without any context, Nadia could tell that things were about to get serious. Under any other circumstances she would’ve happily stepped up to the plate for a tag-team match, but at Juri she just scrunched up her nose. “Help you? I dunno…” After another moment of considering all the players in the room, a devious grin spread across Nadia’s face.

She didn’t care about either the mafia boss or his would-be usurper, but stopping a payday for Juri would be pretty funny.

Meanwhile, down on the ocean's surface above the fabled Blue Hole, the Koopas and their guests had closed in on the rogue cargo ship. Its lights rendered it easily visible against the dark ocean in the dead of night, but they didn’t illuminate any guards or defenses as far as the incoming heroes could see. Over all its floodlights blazed the ominous purple glow of the Flame Clock, plainly advertised with the bravado of a pirate flag rather than hidden away for safety. Due to the ship’s sheer size, however, boarding it from the water’s surface was a tricky proposition. Its smooth, reinforced hull featured no rungs stacked up along its sides for easy climbing. The entry hatches were both high up and sealed tight. Getting aboard presented quite the conundrum.

Sandswept Sky: Skyworld

@DracoLunaris @Archmage MC @Yankee @Double @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

With the miraculous advent of a new dawn galvanizing them into action, the bulk of Palutena’s forces left the conquered Ivory Citadel behind and soared over to reinforce their brothers and sisters. Their well-timed arrival reunited the Army of Light against the airborne armada of Laguna over the pitch-stained ports of Citronpool Harbor, and together the angels rallied against the enemy force. Though a number of false angels had taken wing, they could generally be outfought and unceremoniously dispatched, so the army’s main concern took the form of the Kinship funerary boats. In rhythmic motion their oars plied the currents of the air rather than the water, missiles flew from beneath the gleaming masks on their prows, and their decks teemed with corrupted defenders. Being Laguna creatures themselves rather than mere vessels, they could fly and attack on their own, but the angels had already discovered a more fortuitous quirk of these ships’ anatomy: as living creatures, they could be afflicted. Featherswords could hinder their defense or evasion with Shield Smite or Spiral Sword, and every arrow skill possessed by a Featherbow could slow a Kinship down. And when Uriel joined the fray alongside Edelgard and Ortho, the quick-witted commander called out a simple strategy for her soldiers to put into practice.

“Men, attack from below!” Normally, battlefield angels used their wings to give themselves a height advantage over terrestrial foes, staying out of reach while making it easier to shoot down at their targets. Rising higher than these Kinships just gave the corrupted archers and Affinity musicians a shot at them, however, and the homing missiles launched from their cabins posed a serious threat. “Sever the oars, pierce their shells, and scuttle them!”

With that, the scales really did tip in the angels’ favor. By attacking from beneath the Kinships, the angels could pluck their oars like centipede legs, then peel away the rowboats’ gilded, colorful exoskeletons to reveal the corrupted muscle, bones, and arteries beneath. Even if these loathsome monsters’ hearts or brains lay somewhere within the golden boxes on their sterns, there was more than one way to skin a cat, and a bird without wings couldn’t fly. Palutena’s forces pounded the Kinships’ marble faces and ruptured the organs responsible for birthing new cherubic missiles. Feathershields could focus on warding off missiles, while Featherstaves kept everyone going. Empowered by Edward’s magic, their weapons could cut through rotten flesh like hot knives through butter. Fighting the Kinships like this took longer than going for a weak spot, but was safer for Palutena’s forces, and one by one the vessels began to fall. A couple times the distant ballistae got lucky and scored a hit with a massive bolt into a Kinship’s ribs or cabin, and that helped expedite the process. Once the slow but nigh-unstoppable Angelic Champions really got into the mix, they proved capable of even greater damage than the ballistae, their enormous blades of light taking chunks out of Kinships at a time.

This strategy didn’t demand the entirety of Palutena’s force, so a number of the angels set their sights on a different goal: Citronpool Harbor itself. Unlike the Ivory Citadel with its layers of thick stone walls, this second sky island laid its corruption right out in the open, so the army of light could bombard it from a safe distance. Storm Wardens pushed their cannons to the limit, raining down purifying plasma from above, while lieutenants like Celia unveiled a secret weapon: the holy hand grenades. Once hurled down, the praises of a disembodied choir heralded divine explosions that could level multiple infested buildings at once. Though this skyport had once been beautiful, there was no saving it now–only ablution could redeem this tainted soil.

Reasonably assured that their allies could handle the rest of the enemies, the Seekers could focus on the biggest problem. Worship, part heavy ordinance platform and part enormous battering ram, was a force to be reckoned with. Its energy bullets, cherubic missiles, and golden bulk made it very dangerous to attract its attention, while its rocket-fueled aerial mobility made hitting it almost impossible in flight. At one point it used its laser to snipe a ballistae that dared take a shot at it, and a moment later it decided to simply smash through a doomed Kinship just to obliterate the squad of angels poised to finish it off. Nevertheless, Midna managed to catch it and sink her claws in. She managed to deal respectable damage, but even the Twilight Princess and her cohorts couldn’t stick to the Worship for long, and when they fell back others took up the slack.

One squad of angels kept perilously close to the Worship throughout the skirmish. Fodoquia led them fearlessly in a mission to harry the inglorious thing until he saw an opportunity. “Team! Heavensmite!” Nodding, the others fell back alongside him just far enough that they could surround the lynchpin of their strategy, the stern Feathersword Ochlys, and start casting buffs. “Row Resistance,” Fodoquia pronounced, shrouding his team in a magic-resistant barrier.

The Featherbow Raenys loosed a Saint’s Shot toward Worship, then surrounded Ochlys with an aura of whirling air. “Tailwind!”

Despite his disgrace, the reverend knight Sanatio intended to atone through his duties. “Honed healing,” the curly-haired Featherstaff muttered. “Holy Cradle.”

By now, Ochlys was humming with energy. She raised her slender blade, studying the searing enchantment that burned across its blade thanks to Edward’s magic. “I suppose that’s five,” she remarked in a nonchalant English accent. “And finally…Accelerate!”

The warrior took flight, her blades flapping in the breeze as she pierced the sky, fast enough to leave afterimages. As she dove toward Worship, she lifted her blade for a Honed Slash, triggering Discharge consuming every buff to multiply her own attack power. “Wield me, o Father!” With her truestrike readied, she could neither miss nor be outrun, and in a flash her sword delivered her to her enemy. “HAH!”

Her incredible slash dealt out six times the damage it should have, cutting a massive furrow through Worship’s body. The next instant Ochlys was gone, having overshot her foe thanks to her speed, but the damage had been done. The flagship of Laguna’s fleet was grievously injured, and it wasn’t long before Pit led a heroic charge straight into Worship’s laser, then eliminated the blasphemous aircraft once and for all. The last Kinship fell soon after.

By now, the Army of Light wasn’t far at all from the last of the infected sky islands, a place where no angel had ever set foot and lived, the source and stronghold of the corruption. It resembled a massive rocky crag covered in buried churches, its stony surfaces slick with corruption, with an enormous train track that spiraled around and through the island itself, and along that track ran the train. It was a colossal, hideous, and intricate affair, more like a procession of gothic cathedrals on wheels than an actual locomotive. Corruption dripped down its sides and acrid fumes billowed from its smokestacks as the train made its grim rounds. Here, the corrupted monsters were at their most impure, being little more than oily masses with random arrays of limbs and multiple white laguna masks, though some also appeared to have subsumed machine parts from the blighted locomotive. They crawled all over it, silhouetted against its sickly yellow light as it eked them out from its twisted innards. There could be no doubt that the throbbing heart of the corruption could be found on board.

With their commanders in attendance, the angels regrouped on the light-scoured far side of Citronpool Harbor, recuperating as much as possible for their final assault. Angels healed one another, chomped on Roasted Nuts, and wolfed down Hot Cross Buns to refuel their stamina. As they ate, their brightest star’s voice filled them with resolve. “Steel yourselves, men!” Uriel exclaimed. “We’ve made it this far, and we’re not backing down now. Let us cleanse the sky of this filth once and for all! Let us fly forth and bring forth the Father’s wrath to pierce the rotten heart!”

Forbidden Kingdom: Meridi-at-Han

Level 8 Goldlewis (89/80) Level 1 Grimm (9/10)
@Yankee @Archmage MC @Drifting Pollen
Word Count: 1041

Just as Goldlewis anticipated, the men and women of Meridi-at-han weren’t about to let such a golden opportunity pass them by. With their target waylaid by the veteran’s unyielding harpoon and his back turned toward them, the guards and adventurers threw caution to the wind and let loose everything they had in a bid to bring the burning wolf down. Through the ensuing bombardment arced a triple-shot of heavy black fire, its abyssal weight crashing into Ralph’s back. That benthic blast was what got it through to Ralph that, try as he might, he couldn’t break free from the big man’s grasp in this wounded state. Howling, the enormous wolf took a moment to gather his strength, then let go of the building with one hand and half-turned to leap toward his captor. In that critical moment, though, a Sun Guard captain unleashed his Firespitter. Its arrow-covered payload punched a primitive rocket into Ralph’s hide, then exploded, stalling the monster long enough for Primrose to deliver her amped-up Moonlight Waltz and eliminate the beast for good.

With a final whine, Ralph fell from several stories up, forcing Goldlewis to hop backward to avoid a blow from a flailing limb. “Dag nabbit!” As the citizens cheered, a number of hunters jostled through the crowd, carving knives at the ready, to try and get a piece or two of the dissolving carcass before only ashes remained. Goldlewis left them to it, using the crank on his Yowie harpoon gun to reel the huge hook back in. After checking that everyone was accounted for, he gave a sigh of relief. He’d been banged up a bit, and he hadn’t expected to have to use his full strength tonight, but considering the circumstances -and the unfortunate end met by some of the cityfolk- he really couldn’t complain. If anything, he figured he could use the exercise, though he knew that thinking like that was making light of the situation. The real surprise, he estimated, was Primrose. He hadn’t fought alongside her yet, so despite her toned muscles the veteran assumed that the dancer would take a support role. In the brawl with Ralph, though, she’d strutted her stuff in the offense department as well. His first instinct, borne of his time in the army, was to give her a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, but Goldlewis stopped himself and limited his commendation to an appreciative nod. “Nice goin’ there, missie. You’re one hell of a credit to the team.”

Arms crossed, Goldlewis looked around to take stock of the situation. A ways off, George had already been defeated, and Lizzie was on her last legs. As quickly and violently as it began, the rampage seemed to be coming to a close. But why were those monsters here to begin with? “Surely this ain’t a natural occurrence,” he mused aloud. “And how in sam hill did those beasts get all the way up here without anyone seein’ em? Been a spell since I went down to the jungle, but I reckon them giants stood head and shoulders above the trees down there.” This should’ve been a preventable disaster. With an appropriate amount of guards for such a large population in a dangerous region like this, he would’ve expected Meridi-at-han to be much better prepared–and yet the monsters had appeared right out of the blue, taking the whole city by surprise.

After only a minute or so the carvers had cleaned the corpse out, and as they dispersed Goldlewis moseyed over. He didn’t really expect to find any clues among the giant’s remains, so he was surprised when he spotted something dimly reflective amidst the ashes of the wolf’s leg. With a grunt he crouched down, picked it up, and turned it over in his hands. It was a crumpled-up soda can, badly damaged, but when he stretched it out he could make out -with some difficulty- the words ‘SCUM SODA’ on a green background. Brows furrowed, he glanced around. Had the can been stuck between the beast’s toes? “Mighty strange,” he muttered. Of course, he’d seen a lot stranger things than a soda can in a fantastical setting like Meridi-at-han, and the whole World of Light was pretty anachronistic anyway, but something about this particular oddity rubbed him the wrong way. “Scum Soda,” he repeated, shaking the can. Empty. He pocketed it, then stood up.

His investigation concluded just in time, since Primrose had noticed something amiss. She directed his attention toward some sort of commotion in the torchlit shadows back in the direction of the Grimm Troupe’s former big top. While the smoldering dark looked like nothing more than the burned-out wreckage of the tent at first glance, something about the way those scarlet lights flitted forced Goldlewis to agree that something was off. Still not sure what he was looking at, he hefted his coffin and followed her at a brisk pace. By now the streets were relatively clear, with the citizens sheltered and the guards on high alert, so an eerie aura suffused the hastily-abandoned marketplace. Only when Goldlewis got within a hundred feet was Goldlewis surprised to see a ring-shaped huddle of shadowy, ghostly bugs, so excitedly intent on something in their midst that they didn’t even notice the big man jogging toward them. They didn’t part to make way for him either, so Goldlewis had to muscle his way through the manic Grimmkin acolytes. Finally, he laid eyes on the cause of the commotion: a frantic fight between the Troupe Master and some suspicious-looking sorceress.

Goldlewis paused, rubbing his head as he watched the magical mayhem. He still couldn’t be sure whether or not Grimm was guilty of some wrongdoing. He couldn’t fathom why they’d be fighting or who was in the right, but these two were Gleaming, which meant that this could only end one way. Better to break it up if he could. Looking around, he spotted not just Primrose, but Roland and Zenkichi among the bugs. They definitely had the numbers to pull the pyromaniacs apart. For now the unsubtle soldier held his ground, waiting for one of the others to make a move he could capitalize on. When someone needed a hand, he’d be there.

World of Light: the Endless Now

<Snipped quote by Lugubrious>

I think with three pages and 48 lengthy posts at the time of writing this, I've missed my window.

@Randomness

It's never too late to join in my mind, but if you're no longer interested, then I wish you the best.

World of Light: the Endless Now

@Randomness Hey there, how are things looking? Still got any interest in joining? It's no problem either way, but I figured I'd follow up.