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Lugubrious male Member

Player on the other side

STATUS: Words can't cut it - the kiss of death 1 mo ago
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Recent Statuses

1 mo ago
Current Words can't cut it - the kiss of death
4 mos ago
Standing dry in the pouring rain
1 like
5 mos ago
Wash away the sorrow all the stains of time
8 mos ago
Fusing into the unknown
8 mos ago
Looks like from here it, it only gets better
2 likes

Bio

Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.

Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.

Most Recent Posts

In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 18 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Back from his extended vacation, it's everyone's favorite detective, Big Band!

In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 18 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Dead Zone Hinterlands - Martira, Old Castle Town

Harry’s @Eviledd1984, Amaterasu's @DracoLunaris
Word Count: 801


When Band spotted Harry headed toward the tailor as well, he changed tactics and decided to let the man choose his garb for himself. Honestly, if he were in the same shoes he’d want to pick out his own clothes too, but as always, money was the problem. Band didn’t think the two thousand zenny stipend he gave Harry would get him very far. Hopefully he could manage a full outfit and still have enough cash left over for soap and water, or the poor guy would be scrubbing himself off in a very cold mountain stream.

The detective left Harry to his own devices and stomped off to tie up a couple loose ends, mostly inquiries he’d been meaning to make with people who hadn’t been where he’d expected them last time he looked. Unfortunately one of them -a grocer whose daughter had been among the recent disappearances- wasn’t open for business today either, which Band understood and was actually relieved to see. He’d had second thoughts about questioning the grieving man but resolved to do his due diligence, so having the choice taken out of his hands suited him just fine. He met with the parents of the missing girl’s young friend, but they refused to let the hulking stranger ask their son anything, and with that well within their rights Band had no choice but to look elsewhere. He did manage to catch a clemar guard who’d been on duty the night of the last kidnappings according to Bardon, but the man was defensive, and even after Band guilt-tripped him into cooperating his answers yielded nothing substantial. He settled for directions to Curien Mansion, which the clemar supplied before making himself scarce. With almost nothing to show from his efforts, the detective could only sigh in frustration and head back down to the plaza to rendezvous with Harry. How could this case already be so cold?

When Harry arrived, the sight of his new getup wiped every other thought from Big Band’s mind. “Holy smokes!” He chuckled, shelving his new partner’s question for the time being. “It’s a good thing I ain’t the fashion police, or I’d have to lock ya up and throw away the key!” Harry’s new duds, mismatched and ill-fitting, didn’t look that much better up close, but Band didn’t want to give the man too much of a hard time, given what he’d been through this morning already. He assumed that Harry was not much happier about his new look than anyone who had to see it was, and was simply making do with what he’d managed to acquire. At least, he hoped so. He was happy that Harry had cleaned himself up, though, and now that he got a better look, Band couldn’t help but be impressed by just how many articles of clothing the Icebreaker had managed to acquire. “Gotta say, you sure know how to handle your money. Got it all on clearance or somethin’? Musta been a real steal.” He paused just long enough to make Harry wonder about the intentionality behind his word choice, then turned to go. “But yeah, I’m ready to roll, and I know the way. Let’s bounce, slick.”

The two proceeded through Martira’s main gates and began their trek up the mountain. Heeding the directions he’d been given, Band led the way along the road until he reached a footbridge, then took a hard left and began to follow the little river up the forested slope. Near Martira the woods had been thinned out by loggers for timber to build the town’s houses with, but the woods quickly got thicker as the mountainside got steeper, and the pair’s progress slowed down just as fast. While Band’s mechanical body featured countless sophisticated subsystems and hidden sound-based weapons, its bulky frame and proportionally puny legs were not built for hiking, and soon the detective was wheezing and steaming like a locomotive. Engaging his thrusters and taking to the air would have saved him a lot of trouble, but it would have left Harry up the creek without a paddle, and Band wasn’t the type to let a partner down.

On the way up the mountainside, he happened to cast his mind back to something that Harry said earlier. “Hey, Icebreaker!” he called back as he paused between heavy steps. “Earlier, back when we split. Coulda sworn you called me ‘Kim’ or somethin’.” He raised an eyebrow like a cross-examiner, his tone playfully accusatory. “I know you ain’t forgotten my name already, so what’s the deal? Am I the spittin’ image of some gal you knew back home?” Where he came from, Band had only ever heard the name ‘Kim’ as short for ‘Kimberly’, so he’d been thoroughly unable to wrap his head around Harry’s misnomer.

Paved Wilderness - Hammerhead

Lvl 15 Ms Fortune (59/150) Lvl 8 Sandalphon (24/80) Lvl 5 Grimm (7/50)
Junior, Rika, & Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate, Sectonia, & Roland’s @Archmage MC Geralt, Zenkichi & Edelgard’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Ace Cadet, Pit, Primrose & Therion’s @Yankee Juri’s @Zoey Boey Roxas, Ganondorf, & Captain Falcon’s @Double
Word Count: 2474








Were any of the Seekers to look over their proverbial shoulders as the Avenger zoomed away from the Dead Zone, they might have caught a glimpse of the parasitized Qliphoth as it withered and died. Suddenly robbed of the floodfested tissue that had subsumed so much of its inner structure, and unable to sustain itself through the nourishment of stolen blood, it quickly succumbed to the timefall pounding its trunk and rotted from the ground up. Within minutes, the titanic, demonic tower of Babel crumbled, sloughing off desiccated masses the size of office buildings as it vanished into the chiralium-laced clouds below.

None of the Seekers looked back on the Qliphoth’s demise, however, so its mammoth grave went unmarked. Some things were better off left in the past, with naught but nightmares to mark their passage, ephemeral as life itself.

Given the Dead Zone’s proximity to the Paved Wilderness, the Avengers reached its destination quickly, even while flying at the lowest possible speed. The Seekers were only about an hour into the afternoon when the ship began to descend, and while it didn’t feature many forward-facing windows, anyone in the bridge could avail themselves of the camera feeds arrayed there to lay eyes on the not-so-trackless wilderness unfolding in front of them. Hope engaged the ship’s cloaking to hide the Lost Numbers’ flying fortress from prying eyes, and as Avenger continued to lose altitude, it wasn’t long before Hammerhead itself came into view in the distance. Of course, cloaking or no cloaking, the Avenger was much too big -and noisy- for its artificial pilot to set it down at the truck stop’s doorstep. Instead, the airship veered away from the crossroads and toward a distinctive rock formation in a more desolate-looking scrubland off the beaten path. The Avenger came in for a landing behind the curved crag, its massive thrusters kicking up billowing clouds of sediment until the roaring engines finally quieted down. Then the cargo bay door lowered amidst the haze, and the Lost Numbers could set foot on solid ground for the first time in a while.



“Mrrrrrrooooooow!” Nadia yawned as she plodded down the ramp, extending her arms to an unnerving extent as she arched her back. It hadn’t been long at all since she last stretched her legs, but to do so free of worry -at least for a while- was a liberating relief. It helped that the Lost Numbers had actually opted to land this time, sparing the Seekers from another nerve-tracking drop in the hellpods. No matter how many times she used those things and lived to tell the tale, the feral just couldn’t get used to falling from the sky in those deathtraps. Once her mantreads hit the dirt, Nadia pawsed to take in the scenery, breathing in the fresh air. The area looked rocky, arid, and dry, with plenty of long, yellow grasses but only a few scattered trees. The Avenger’s arrival had disturbed a number of scaly-shelled Ceratonoth that had been wandering and grazing the land in herds, each group of females clustered around a single male, distinguished by the tall keratin spars on their backs. “Guess I was right not gettin’ dessert with lunch, ‘cause we’re in for a rocky road to Hammerhead!”

Her ears perked up as she heard a familiar groan behind her. “Man, if I hear one more bad joke outta you…ice cream.”

Nadia grinned and turned to see Nero. From the look of the humorless, white-haired punk’s face you’d never guess he’d just made a pun of his own, but to Nadia the contrast between the young man’s hard shell and gooey insides just made him that much funnier. “Hey, Nero!” Though she thought she spotted him aboard the Avenger at some point, the two hadn’t really spoken since the Seekers’ first trip through the Dead Zone. “What’re you gettin’ up to at Hammerhead?”

“Just got the sneaking suspicion this girl I know’s gonna be there,” the devil slayer replied, brushing the dust off his navy-blue coat.

Nadia snapped her fingers. “Oh, right! Your friend from the dead zone. Ni…Nick…Nicole!”

Nero smirked, wondering how Nico would take to being called that. “Close enough.”

A quick glance over Nadia’s shoulder confirmed that Nero wasn’t the only one coming along for the ride. Plenty of Lost Numbers were as eager as the Seekers to experience natural, wide-open space. Like Sagi, the quartermaster, who had Caesar on a leash as both strolled out onto the ground, the latter so excited for a walk on solid ground that his wagging tail was a fluffy white blur. Once enough people were out of the way, the Lost Numbers’ two Armadillos rolled down the ramp after them, each armored car capable of transporting twelve passengers in comfort. One was driven by grouchy nopon mechanic Lulubi, while the other seemed to have Tora and Poppi behind the wheel. “All aboaaaaaaaaaaard, everypon!” the little inventor sang. “Next stop: Hammerhead!”

Only a few people hung back aboard the Avenger. Grimm took one look at all the sunshine, shrank back with a hiss, and disappeared into the shadows, while Sandalphon just looked on. Having been keeping tabs on her allies, she’d warped to Pit’s side seconds after his brawl with Juri concluded, and even after freeing and healing him she had hovered around him since then. Maybe something had her on edge? Nadia waved up at the archangel. “Not comin’?”

“I have…some calls to make,” Sandalphon called down.

Her zero-shaped pupils suggested some sort of inner conflict, but Nadia wasn’t going to probe. “Alrighty. Halo and goodbye!”

Still weary from the morning’s ordeals, Nadia was happy to hitch a ride aboard an Armadillo and ride the rest of the way to Hammerhead, watching out of a window. True to her pun earlier, the going was rough for a while, but before long the trucks discovered a dirt road, followed shortly by one of the wilderness’s titular paved roads, which soon led like a river tributary to a highway. From there it was a smooth ride across the flat expanse toward the region’s iconic landmark, Hammerhead.



One after another, the Armadillos turned off the highway and pulled into the parking lot to discharge their passengers. As an all-in-one blend of gas station, truck stop, service shop, and garage, Hammerhead had always been impressive, but among all of today’s visitors only Tora, Poppi, Bowser Jr, and Blazermate could appreciate how different it was since last time. Hammerhead as a whole had undergone a surprising amount of expansion in just two weeks, gaining not just its own oil refinery but a new forge hut for the local manufacture of custom parts. The previous adjunct restaurant, Grillby’s, had also been taken over and completely remodeled into Cheesetopia, a more traditional retro diner.

It was a lot to take in, and today it seemed that the whole place was already bustling with activity. Whether it was loading, unloading, gassing up, or breaking down, dozens of drivers and technicians were hard at work all over the place in a cacophony of voices, industrial sounds, and radio tunes. Both Nadia and Nero were drawn to a familiar-looking van parked next to the forge hut, but Tora’s eyes were more drawn to its owner out front. The glasses-wearing, chain-smoking country girl Nico seemed to be in a heated conversation with a the mechanic Cindy and two of the forge’s smiths, the red-headed Minayle and the blonde Gemma. In fact, the nopon’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head. “Tora must be in heaven!”

Embarrassed by him around so many people, Poppi quickly smacked him in the back of his head. “Masterpon should be careful around mechanics, lest they ‘fix’ you like dog you are.”

Nadia, meanwhile, zeroed in on a different quartet, and not for the same reasons. Nero had spotted four young men in black by the garage and gone to talk to them, so the feral followed him over. While Noctis, Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio had retreated from the Dead Zone well before the Seekers reached the RCPD station, she’d heard about these boys from Nero afterward, and was happy to see they made it. “Hey fellas! What’s up?”

The guys fired off a round of friendly greetings. Nero had just asked what they were up to, prompting Prompto to give a good-natured smile as he shrugged. “With no kingdom or empire around, we’re basically stuck on one big road trip, right? All we gotta worry about is making ends meet.”

“Which is why we accepted a collection job,” Ignis mentioned in his posh English accent.

Gladio grunted. “Us and every other buncha guys in the whole Wilderness, looks like.”

Unperturbed, Ignis continued. “Indeed. All we know is that yesterday evening, a Ficsit company freighter crashed into a very tall structure to the northwest just last night. Fittingly known as ‘Highertower’, it apparently extends so high into the air that it poses quite the hazard to air traffic. The tower survived, funnily enough, but the ship and its cargo were scattered all over the Wilderness. Ficsit has issued a region-wide commission offering rewards for retrieving their lost property, which would be enough of the occasion on its own, if not for the rumor that illegal firearms were being smuggled among the cargo.”

“Yeah, turns out, it’s totally true,” Prompto chirped. After a surreptitious look around, he opened his jacket to reveal a huge, blocky revolver that seemed to be made of ice. “We found a weapons cache on our first trip. Worth way more than the two thousand we woulda got handing it in! Cool, right?”

“So as you can imagine, there’s quite the hullabaloo,” Ignis summarized.

Gladio crossed his arms, clearly impatient. “So we were just discussin’ our next move. Right Noct?” His big hand descended to pat the team’s quiet leader on the shoulder, pressing him for an answer. “Can’t sit around forever while the others make off with the goods.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Noctis sighed as he stood. He gave Nero and Nadia an apologetic nod. “Join in the scavenger hunt if you want, but we’ve gotta get going.” Without disclosing where they’d be heading, the four took off and jumped in their convertible to hit the road.

Nero and Nadia exchanged a look, the latter raising her eyebrow. Then the devil hunter gave a curt wave and began to jog in Nico’s direction. “Happy hunting.”

Nadia rushed back toward the largest group of Seekers with a pep in her step. While spending her break snoozing somewhere warm sounded pretty nice, a fun diversion was more the catgirl’s style. “Hey, guys! Found out why it’s so crazy around here. Some flyin’ cargo ship crashed and s-cat-erred cargo everywhere. We can earn some money findin’ their stuff for ‘em, or…” She leaned forward as she lowered her voice. “Keep it for ourselves!”

With her plan outlined, Nadia hustled over to the nearest map board, where a handful of other miscellaneous treasure-hunters were gathered. It gave a top-down view of the whole Paved Wilderness, including countless race tracks and many points of interest. In the southern plains lay Chutes Meat Plant and to the southeast stood the mountain pass leading to the Land of Adventure, both so far from the impact point that neither could possibly have much salvage. To the east lay Scorched Gorge, a network of red sandstone canyons home to particularly unusual wildlife, and a little farther north beyond stood a somewhat ominous complex known as the Refinery. Farther to the northeast the racetracks gave way to Cheese Land, which as far as Nadia could tell was supposed to be made of actual cheese. Reminds me of those cheesy caves near the Home of Tears, she thought. Way to the north lay the Rocket League Arena, as well as the attached settlement Noctis.

Nadia blinked. “Huh?” Did the village on the map have the same name as that broody guy from the boy band? That was a funny coincidence.

She quickly finished off the map. Hightertower could be found to the northwest, and as the crash site, it promised to be a hotly-contested area, especially if the murmurs Nadia was hearing about psychotic bandits held water. Apparently the scrubland where the Avenger landed was called the Windward Plain, and the ecosystem only got stranger the closer one got to a settlement called Outback. “Lots of choices,” she muttered.

In the midst of the feral’s pondering, Tora pushed his way through the crowd to stand beside her, Poppi hot on his heels. “Wherever you go, you not get anywhere without set of wheels.”

Nadia blinked. She hadn’t thought of that. “Ah, crap.” She took off her head and held it up to look over the crowd, disturbing almost everyone in her immediate vicinity. In terms of transport, her only options were the Armadillos and maybe Nico’s van, if the gunsmith wasn’t gone already. Then something else Tora said clicked with her, and she looked down at him. “Wait, you’re not doing the scavenger hunt with me?”

He shook his head. “Much more interesting things going on here, meh.”

“Double crap!” Nadia groaned. Kooky Cabbies had proven that she could sort of drive, but she did not feel confident about the Armadillos, even if they were hers to use. All the locations within walking distance were probably picked clean, too. What was she going to do?

That was when she saw it as she scanned the whole station from her elevated perspective: a splendid red dune buggy with impressive suspension and room for two. What caught her attention wasn’t the vehicle, though, as much as the little guy who’d left it purring at the gas pump to go attempt to flirt with Cindy. Nadia promptly stuck her head back on, wiggled her eyebrows, and scampered over.
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 25 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Dead Zone Hinterlands - Martira, Old Castle Town

Harry’s @Eviledd1984
Word Count: 1052


If nothing else, Band had to admit that this guy had guts, introducing himself with nothing more than a grandiose title in such a bedraggled state. Then again, ‘Big Band’ wasn’t a real name to begin with, so maybe he thought the two would be going by codenames. Such discretion wasn’t necessarily common among cops, but it was a classic trope for secret agents. Maybe there was more to this Icebreaker than met the eye. Hopefully a lot more, Band thought, though he did not allow himself a smirk. He didn’t mean to look down on the man -as natural as that was for someone over seven feet tall- but he looked -and smelled- like he’d been through hell, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

“Icebreaker? Not bad. Rolls off the tongue real nice. Guessin’ you ain’t the type to let red tape get in your way, then” Band surmised. “Me, I was always the straight-laced, by-the-books type. Too much for my own good, as a matter of fact. Me an’ the boys down at the NMPD didn’t always see eye to eye, but I bit my tongue and kept quiet, long as I could, ‘til one day, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Set out to blow the whistle on the whole dang unit. Thought I was ready, but things didn’t go quite as planned. Ended up the hospital, stuck inside an iron lung for life.” Band shook his head ruefully, a humorless smile on his face. “These days though, I carry my lungs around with me, and I gotta nice set of pipes, believe you me.” To show what he meant, Band popped open the caps on the side of his body in sequence, a musical note bursting from each.

Just as the detective was wrapping up his own introduction, the door to the Friendly Arm opened, and Morris appeared. Judging by his moody expression, he was in a huff, and eager to be done with his fellow lawmen. Not for the first time, Band wondered if the man’s heart was really in the right place. He’d met his fair share of officers who treated their job like a chore, and he knew that Morris must be off duty right now, but however precious free time was in a place like Martira, something about the man rubbed Band the wrong way.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Morris told the two, crossing his arms. “You wanted to know about Heismay, yeah? It’s not like I know the guy or anythin’, but I saw him, aye. Nearly caught him in the act, too. It was my late shift, on a dark, stormy night, and I was out patrollin’ the east wall, same as usual. I’d been out there for hours, not a damn thing in sight, ‘til just for a second, the clouds part and the moon shines through. Just enough for me to see the bastard climbin’ over the damn wall!” He balled his fists, jaw clenched. “So I went after him, shoutin’ up to high heaven the whole time, but he ran like hell. Disappeared into the woods to the east, headed up the mountain to Curien Mansion. En’t seen him since, but for that night at least, all the young’uns could sleep easy.”

Though Band didn’t have a notebook like Harry did, he still kept track of all the new information, filing away each snippet in his mental lockers. He raised an eyebrow at Morris. “What about Curien Mansion? Y’all ever head up there to try huntin’ this Heismay guy down?”

Morris gave a frustrated sigh. “We tried, but there just en’t enough of us, and we don’t have the arms for it. Whole place is crawlin’ with undead.”

“Ooh, my favorite.” Band gave a wry smile. “Well, maybe we oughta pay the place a visit ourselves, eh partner?” He shot a questioning glance at Harry.

For a brief moment, Morris ruminated on the proposal. “If that's the plan, actually, you lot might be in luck. We get these storms ‘round Martira, see. Sandflashes. Monsters can't stand ‘em, they tend to hole up in their dens to wait ‘em out. There happens to be a sandflash today, so if you're lucky you could stroll right into Curien Mansion and scope the place out for yourselves.”

Band narrowed his eyes, thinking, then nodded. “Sounds like a plan then. Thanks for your time, Morris.”

“Dinnae mention it,” the guardsman replied. “Happy huntin’, you two. And…” He wrinkled his nose at Harry. “For God's sake, take a bath or somethin’, would ye?”

He disappeared back into the Friendly Arm in a hurry, leaving Band and Harry to mull over what they'd be told. The big man deployed a spindly mechanical arm to adjust his hat, then scratch his chin. “Hmm…now, I've only been casin’ the joint since last night, but from what I heard, sandflashes don't pacify monsters at all. Word on the street is they actually aggravate ‘em. Sounds like someone doesn’t have his facts straight, hm?”

After another moment, his pensive expression dissolved into a jocular smile. “Still, he ain't wrong about one thing. We oughta get you cleaned up, Icebreaker. Here.” He extended an arm with the neck of a little bag pinched between its three finger-pads. Inside was two thousand zenny. “Seein’ how stormy it's been ‘round here, it shouldn’t be too hard to find someone willin’ to sell a barrel o’ rainwater. Betcha they got some handmade soap at the farmer's market, too.” He waved Harry off. “I'll find ya some new clothes in the meantime. See ya in a few?”

Band turned to stomp off. As he went, though, a green glow in one of the Friendly Arm’s windows caught his sharp eye. When he looked through, he found the big man from earlier, Stein, on the other side. He was sitting at a table with his daughter, a half-eaten hot dog in his hand. With his sunglasses it was impossible to tell if Stein was watching him, but he seemed close enough to have heard the conversation. Band’s gaze lingered on the window for only a moment, and then the detective moved on. The local tailor might not stock anything in Band’s size, but she ought to have something in Harry’s.

The Avenger - Noon Over the Dead Zone

Lvl 14 Ms Fortune (196/140) Lvl 7 Sandalphon (94/70) Lvl 4 Grimm (47/40)
Junior, Rika, & Edward’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate, Sectonia, & Roland’s @Archmage MC Geralt, Zenkichi & Edelgard’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Ace Cadet, Pit, Primrose & Therion’s @Yankee Juri’s @Zoey Boey Roxas, Ganondorf, & Captain Falcon’s @Double
Word Count: 758 / 717




Slowly, the survivors of the Qliphoth assault force departed. After climbing the stairs from Deployment, they could disperse to any number of locations throughout the Avenger. Whether their natures and circumstances dictated that they seek celebration or solace, solitude or togetherness, this flying fortress was tailor-made to accommodate the needs of campaigners. Of course, not everyone knew what to do or where to go right now, and for a few moments, that was the position Sandalphon found herself in.

As the others got moving, the listless archangel remained in place long enough to see them off, doing her best to field any questions and provide whatever direction she could. Prior to exfiltration from the dying demon tree, her tendency to stand by had given Zenkichi the chance to catch her an unexpected embrace. Though a little stiff and awkward at first, she’d returned his hug after a moment, her arms gently encircling his back, their cheeks and temples pressed together beneath the soft glow of her halo. He’d been fresh from the fight, his tense body warm to the touch and slick with sweat, but in the wake of the team’s losses they’d found some semblance of comfort in one another’s arms. This was hardly the first time that Sandalphon had lost comrades, but never had such casualties left such a rawness in her heart. No doubt her newfound emotion was to thank, and unfortunately no amount of healing miracles would scrub away that scar, but to her surprise Zenkichi’s affection had soothed the ache somewhat. Maybe she’d hoped that lingering would prompt him to embrace her once more, but the detective -understandably- had other priorities. After all, Akane had probably been worried to death the whole time. Sandalphon watched as Zenkichi hurried off to go see her, trying not to think too much about the request he’d made of her in the hollow. Human emotion really was a two-edged sword.

One of the other Seekers who didn’t get far from Deployment was Grimm, though unlike the others, Sandalphon didn’t get the impression that there was anywhere in the Avenger he’d rather be. So far the Troupe Master seemed like an enigma, unconventional in both mentality and morality. Neither Sandalphon’s scanning abilities nor innate spiritual sense could quite get a bead on him, but something about him nevertheless put her off. Still, inexplicable misgivings were no excuse to be unsociable. If she couldn’t figure Grimm out at a glance, she knew she ought to just talk to him normally. “I imagine that experience will cast a long shadow over our campaign,” she said softly. “Has it taken its toll on you as well, Troupe Master?”

”Why would it?” Though Grimm’s face was too featureless to parse his emotions, there was curiosity in his scarlet gaze. ”Death is merely one turn of the cycle in whose gyrations we all play a part. If anything, today’s spectacular dance with death underscored its importance. All those horrors we encountered, borne of that vile ‘Gravemind’...a twisted and feeble parody of life, sustained in dead flesh, ad nauseam. Better that the dying forest burn to ash, and feed the soil of new beginnings.” He shook his head at Sandalphon. “So, I do not dishonor their ends with mourning. When the curtains fall, all will be ashes, so may we all be so fortunate to go out in a blaze of glory, as they did.”

After a moment, the archangel gave a respectful nod. She hadn’t expected to understand where Grimm was coming from. Still, the thought of leaving the departed Seekers unmourned was untenable, especially now, when the unprecedented hole in her heart demanded some sort of fulfillment. As mission control, who called the shots but seldom took the field, Sandalphon tended to be the one left to write eulogies amidst the aftermath. She couldn’t stop thinking about her conversation with Goldlewis on that snowy mountain crag during the minigame roulette in Carnival Town. Now, his sacrifice had given much of what he’d said a deeper meaning. It would be as good a place as any to start. “I see the wisdom in your words. But as an overseer of humanity, it is my duty to mourn the departed, and I will not dishonor them.”

Grimm tilted his head, then gave a raspy huffing noise that might have been a laugh. He lifted his arm to reveal the Grimmchild hanging beneath his cloak, whose chin he scratched with a pitch-black claw as he turned to walk away.



When Geralt found him, Tora was tinkering with something new, as always. Having exchanged his goggles for a custom welding mask designed to shield the upper third of his rotund, ovoid frame, the furry little Nopon seemed to be in the process of assembling a large machine frame with the help of Poppi’s beam saber, which he’d apparently jury-rigged into a soldering iron. It was shaped like a hockey puck, but twice as tall as the engineer himself, and almost as broad as Bowser’s shell. Absorbed in his work, he didn’t notice the new arrival until his artificial assistant tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned and popped up his mask, a wide smile spread across Tora’s face.

“Friend Ger-Ger!” he greeted the Witcher. “Tora glad you make it back, meh!” While the two of them hadn’t always been on the same team, Geralt had known who to come to for weapons since his first job in Lumbridge, and Tora always appreciated a repeat customer. When presented with the Keeper’s wire mines, the Nopon knew to handle the devices with care. “Ooh,” he murmured gently turning the trap over in his hand. “Nasty piece of work, meh. Spring-loaded, stuffed to burst with barbed wire. If catch sight of this on ground, Tora just do three-sixty and walk away! What Ger-Ger want done with it? Tora cannot help having special shield idea in mind, but should probably steer clear of war crimes after last time, meh…”

Poppi clapped her hands together and tilted her head with a disarming smile. “For legal reasons, that is joke.”

Conversely, the Nopon took one look at how Geralt summoned the Hateful Flesh and grimaced. “Blech! Put away! Meat-sword stink of magic, which not at all Tora specialty, meh!” He looked over at Poppi with a shrug, who returned the gesture, then turned back to the Witcher. “Uhhh…could weld new handle on, mayhaps? Not much can do beyond that, though.”

Once Geralt laid the cleaver down, the mood did not improve much. Geralt relayed the bad news about Goldlewis and Midna, both of whom Tora and Poppi had gotten to know during their trek across the Sandswept Sky. Poppi covered her mouth, a shocked and sorrowful look on her face. “Oh, no…”

Tora looked not just miserable, but deflated, like a balloon two days after a birthday party. Even his feather mohawk seemed to droop. “Meh, meh…” he mewled. “That make Tora…very sad. Not want think about right now. So…Tora ignore and think about something else.” He gave a determined nod when Geralt mentioned he’d be busy. “Yes, yes. Tora already had at work on new ideas. For instance, everypon on Avenger always busy doing chores. But if Tora makes machines to do chores, all friends have more time! So right now, am working on all-purpose cleaning robot. Found schematic on inter-knot that Tora get inspiration from…”

“Steal,” Poppi whispered to Geralt.

Her Masterpon continued without missing a beat. “...But Tora see plenty of improvement room, so there lots of work to do, meh. Sadly, though…” The inventor scratched his head, eyes narrowed. “Am short on good materials, and meanypon Shirogane say Tora not allowed to take any more parts from Avenger engine room. So, was hoping that friends like Ger-Ger help with funding for special projects, meh. Would be much much appreciated!” He hopped up and down, flapping his wings pleadingly. Poppi just slapped a palm to her face and shook her head.



Before she went anywhere else within the Avenger, Nadia knew one place she wanted to be–and luckily, it wasn’t far away. She made a beeline for Ace and squeezed him tight in a fierce hug, as if strength alone was enough to guarantee he’d never leave her. After a second or two, though, she relaxed a little, and laid her head on his chest, her furry ears tickling his neck. By now she knew about Palico Rescue, but that knowledge hadn’t made his sudden disappearance any easier to stomach, and after the actual loss of several friends Nadia had needed to see her love interest safe and sound. They were both a mess, of course, but they were alive. Held tight in Ace’s strong arms, it was hard to feel bad about not sacrificing herself, or about much of anything, really. For one, golden moment, there was nothing in their world but each other.

Of course, reality caught up with Nadia with a vengeance, and after only a few seconds the tender silence was broken by the almost leonine rumbling of the feral’s stomach. A fit of giggles burst from Nadia as she laughed it off, pulling away from Ace just far enough to pull him after her as she made for the stairs. The pair followed in the footsteps of Head Chef Bracket as she made her way through the Avenger toward the mess hall, where the Mimiga’s fellow cooks had been putting the finishing touches on today’s meal in her absence. After a quick, five-minute detour to the showers to freshen up, they returned on the heels of Edelgard, Ganondorf, Zenkichi, Akane, and a few others. Inside the airship’s cafeteria,Nadia found a pleasant surprise awaiting her: while the giant crab legs fetched by the Koopas were boiling bit by bit for dinner, hemborgers were on the menu.



These patties, festooned with melted cheddar cheese and drenched in rich brown gravy, came surrounded by fresh sliced vegetables and a couple hard-boiled eggs for good measure, promising a flavorful and protein-rich meal. Though dubiously named, one bite was enough to convince anyone that these things were the real deal. There were other miscellaneous foods on offer for lunch, primarily leftovers from previous meals that ought not go to waste, but the minute the sumptuous aroma of the beefy feast hit her nostrils, Nadia could think of nothing else. “Hemborger,” she murmured absently, her mouth ajar in anticipation as she lined up to receive her portion. As it turned out, running and fighting for one’s life for hours at a time really built up one’s appetite.

Once she reached a table with her precious cargo, Nadia wolfed down her hemborger so fast that barely tasted it. After realizing her mistake, the feral could do little but seek to rectify her foolishness with a second portion, slowly and meticulously savored. She washed it down with some freshly-brewed, piping-hot espresso. “It might be after noon, but this is still my ‘mourning’ coffee,” she told the Cadet, a wry smile on her lips. Finishing the hemborgers, of course, left Nadia with a double portion of vegetables to gnaw through. She approached this task with significantly less gusto, which gave plenty of time to chat with Ace -and anyone else who happened to be nearby- between crunches.

The mess hall was pretty lively by now, after all. In addition to the other Seekers, Lakota and Dawn were here, along with their three bunny-eared little girls Aurora, Ciel, and Soleil. As their dad attempted to cajole them into cleaning their plates, their mom went for Lakota’s, making off with his hemborger. When he discovered the theft, Dawn pretended to have no idea what had happened. She managed to keep up the facade until Lakota poked her in the belly, which earned him a giggle and a slapped hand. As she munched her cucumber slices, Nadia couldn’t help but smile at the two any more than she could stop herself glancing at Ace afterward. Dawn, Lakota, and their kids were living proof that an impossible love across worlds could succeed, even in a world as cruel as this one. What would happen to those little girls -to all the Lost Numbers- if the Seekers’ campaign succeeded…?

Nadia let out a heavy sigh, took a swig of her coffee, and smiled. She had enough on her plate today without having to worry about tomorrow.
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
The Qliphoth - the Final Hollow

Lvl 14 Ms Fortune (195/140) Lvl 7 Sandalphon (92/70) Lvl 4 Grimm (45/40)
Junior, & Rika’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Roland’s @Archmage MC Geralt, Zenkichi & Edelgard’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Ace Cadet, Pit, Primrose & Therion’s @Yankee Juri’s @Zoey Boey Roxas, Ganondorf, & Captain Falcon’s @Double
Word Count: 3195 (+4x2)


For the second time the nightmarish pocket dimension of flesh and sacrifice receded from Nadia’s view. The next moment, the Final Hollow faded back in around her and the other Seekers, leaving the team one more ally short. Unfortunately, it wasn’t any easier for the feral to compose herself this time; if anything, she felt number than before. The decision paralysis inflicted on her and the others by A’s meatspace was wearing off, and the cold fear with which her phagophobia gripped her spine had diminished, but the loss of Goldlewis Dickinson was a weight she’d be carrying for a while.

“Damn it, old man,” she muttered bitterly. Sure, at the end of the day she hadn’t know him that well either, but how many more times would she have to console herself in such a way? As someone made mostly immortal by the power of the Life Gem, it would be her lot in life to outlive most everyone she met. That meant losses were inevitable, but while Nadia knew she couldn’t let such things drive her to despondency, she also knew that she couldn’t harden her heart to said losses, either. Having lost so much already, Nadia had taken to heart an important lesson: that the inevitability of loss wasn’t a reason to give up on life, love, or laughter, but instead the reason to live, laugh, and love all the more. In the short time she’d known Goldlewis, he’d proven himself to be one of the strongest, most stout-hearted old warriors she’d ever seen. He had not thrown his life away for nothing, but had nobly faced his own death without fear for the sake of saving everybody. Nadia felt guilty, for lacking that courage herself and forcing the veteran’s hand, but also grateful for the extra chance he’d given her. She would not waste it.

“Badass to the end, huh?” Nadia found herself looking upward, past the twisted, throbbing horrors of the floodfested demon tree and into the clear blue sky. Against such a backdrop, even the Brother Moon looked small, somehow. “Well, you can rest easy. We won’t letcha down.”

The next moment, Nadia’s ears twitched, and on instinct the feral sprang backward. A blazing meteor slammed into the floor where she’d been standing a split second earlier, close enough that she could feel its searing heat on her skin and eyes as her hair fluttered from the displaced air. Blown further back by the shockwave, she used the momentum to twist herself around in a backflip and land in a crouched stance on her feet. Her claws raked across the flattened Qliphoth bark of the floor as she slid to a stop, her lips curled over bare teeth. Above the battlefield hovered Moebius D, a fresh batch of spells already on their way after Pit’s shimmery shield took the brunt of the last one. In the wake of the second Come Unto Your Maker, the vampiric Consul had taken advantage of the emotional fallout to try and rack up a few more kills of his own, but now Nadia’s blood was boiling a lot hotter than his meteors.

Another round of violently purple rays streaked toward the Seekers below. Nadia took off with a dash propelled by jets of high-pressure blood, then sprinted on all fours in a frenetic strafing run. As the magic curved toward her she zig-zagged back and forth, changing her direction at the last second to confound the arcane beams’ homing abilities. “Such wanton D-struction!” By the time the barrage ended, though, whirling sickles of flame were on their way. Only after weaving through the fiery pinwheels did Nadia realize that she’d been corralled against a thick curtain of blood rain as huge fireballs plummeted toward her. Thinking quickly, Nadia used Charge to bolt through the crimson deluge, only a little worse for wear while a cacophonous chain-explosion demolished the area where she’d been. “Hah! Sorry to rain on your parade, but it’ll take something a bit ‘meteor’ than that to get me!”

Despite her jokes, Nadia was definitely annoyed, and not just because she heard Juri gloating about killing Moebius O. There were no gaps in D’s offense in which her team could fight back, and even if there were, none of them had a chance in hell of reaching him. With Junior grounded and no Sectonia or Kamek to safeguard the skies, the Seekers were vulnerable against aerial opponents. She, Roxas, and a few others were agile, but not that agile, and if anyone stopped long enough to fire off a few bullets or spells, D would return fire with ten times the fury. Was there seriously no limit to how much magic that dirtbag could pump out!? There wasn’t anything she could do…from the floor, at least.

Nadia snapped her fingers, then abruptly turned tail and ran. To the others it might look like she was being selfish and cowardly, distancing herself for the sake of her own safety no matter what happened to the others, but as convenient as it was for her, she did have a plan in mind. Hopefully the others could last long enough for her to pull it off. Given how close the Brother Moon’s tentacles were getting, their odds were getting closer by the second, but she had to do something!

Some of her allies, at least, had their fights a little more under control. While A had managed to snuff out one of his strongest attackers, that smidgen of relief came at a great cost, and those who remained were determined to make him pay the price. The Monster surged forward first, little more than a massive heap of raw power, instinct, and emotion. What followed was more of a beatdown than a fight, with A struggling to defend himself as his heavily damaged husk began to fail him. Even hunkering down did not avail him, however, as Primrose’s Makami siphoned from him, and the Monster took advantage of his unanchored state to hurl him into a nearby environmental hazard. It wasn’t the end of him, but it put the villain in a terrible position he was forced to literally claw his way up from. He did manage to strike a solid blow against the Monster while its overextension left it isolated from the other Seekers, but when A crested the edge of the pit he found the children very much alive, and before he could try to finish the Koopas off, Roland arrived.

A handful of abilities hammered the Consul in quick succession, followed by Roland himself in ghoulish attire. His rake scored A’s body, gouging a huge chunk of demonic metal flesh from his torso. Once gutted, he found himself buffeted by a thick cinnamon cloud, as hard and heavy as a fist. Its impact momentarily stunned him, its psychological component affecting his eldritch mind in some inexplicable manner, which paved the way for Primrose to take center stage. As A regained his senses in front of the empowered dancer, now on his last legs, he made the pragmatic choice to try something new: teleporting away. Yet no matter how he tried, his Moebius teleportation ability would not obey him–what had Roland done!?

He lashed out first. How could he not? And for a moment, it looked like he’d seized victory. Primrose doubled over, blood seeping from her mouth as her flesh yielded to his strike. When he attempted to recoil, however, the rose’s thorns pierced through his tentacle, more than living up to their name. A brilliant aura of black and white flared around Primrose, then flooded into the A’s flesh, a lance of pitch-black incineration that turned the Consul’s own limb into a burning fuse. He had only a split second to realize what was happening before the Black Serpent reached him, implanting Primrose’s dark magic into the very core of his being. ”Mortality-!”

Moebius A exploded in a maelstrom of rippling, roaring shadow. His failing body, unable to stitch or hold itself together any longer, was ground away into fitful purple sparks that were swallowed by the dark just as quickly. After a moment the tenebrous singularity subsided, leaving behind only a handful of misshapen hunks, including part of A’s head. The scattered remnants did not regenerate this time, but crumbled into nothingness bit by sickening bit. Even the glow of the red lemniscate in A’s eye had been extinguished, but it stared at the Seekers nonetheless, gleaming like a black pearl.

”Victory…” A’s tone was critical, almost chiding, even as it faded away. ”A hollow…and ridiculous…notion…”

Then the last vestige of the aberrant Moebius A was gone, at last.

Unfortunately, the Qliphoth was not yet free of dead flesh, even if it had gone to pieces. The grotesque separation of the Gravemind into a number of large, extremely aggressive fragments was overwhelming to Grimm for a few moments, but from her bird’s-eye view Blazermate managed to get a bead on the situation that the Troupe Master did not. In a bid to stop the Gravemind’s spore-dropping core from ascending out of reach and into the Brother Moon’s eager embrace, Blazermate applied herself in a uncharacteristically physical sense: she tackled the vile thing out of the sky. Her metallic limbs battered the bomber’s newly-formed body well enough, but it was her Suffering shield that did the trick, its teeth puncturing the core’s gas sacs enough to let out the lighter-than-air fumes lifting it upward. In a matter of moments the core wasn’t gaining altitude, but losing it, and in another few seconds it would be well within Ganon’s reach.

Determined to give his much larger ally the space he needed to bring the Guardian down for good, Grimm and his Grimmchild turned their attention toward the fragments down below. Though not particularly well-built, the horrors formed from the remains of the core’s chrysalis moved powerfully and erratically enough to be dangerous, as Zenkichi and Edelgard found out. Grimm joined in with barrages of firebats from afar, keeping himself out of harm’s way. Though things looked dicey for a moment or two, Edelgard held firm until Zenkichi composed himself, and the pair turned the tide in a storm of spells and steel. These fragments didn’t seem able to regenerate or reform, so the team picked them apart one slice at a time, and the arrival of Captain Falcon plus Roxas sealed the deal. For the finale, Grimm took a bow, his cloak moving on his own to plunge its tips into the ground and spear the last monster from below. With their last course served up on a silver platter, the others could make sure that the Gravemind got its just desserts.

As the gargantuan tentacles of the celestial monstrosity above drew close, Ganon mustered the last of his strength. The next moment, a torrent of purple energy burst forth from his gullet bringing long-overdue annihilation to the execrable Gravemind core. Once back on his human form, Ganondorf found himself caught in a downpour of ashen remains, gentle as snow. Soon after the spirit of the Dead Zone Guardian fell at his feet, the visage of his vanquished foe resplendent in a wreath of sickly green light. The Seekers had won.

The response from the floodfested collective was immediate. A hundred thousand voices wailing, lamenting, singing in an abominable chorus. Untold tons of undead biomass writhed in despair and pain, much of it so interwoven with the demon tree that the Qliphoth itself seemed to shake. Overhead, the Brother Moon was gone–gone, just like that. Far, far above the World of Light hung a dark, scarred moon, innocent but sinister. Yet to hatch. Had it all been a vision conjured by Consul A, a cosmically horrific feint to boggle the heroes’ minds? Nadia didn’t know, but she was indescribably glad that it was gone, and almost as glad when the floodfested finally stopped screaming.

When the noise began, the magical bombardment from Moebius D had ceased. At first he'd been incredulous, but the more he surveyed the situation on high, the less D could deny what had happened. Both O and A were dead, and the Gravemind had been destroyed. For all his power, he'd failed to stop the Seekers. Failed to stop a fourth of them, even. "No," he snarled through gritted teeth, dark magic flaring to life at his fingertips, but after a moment he let it go. D drifted down from the air, returning to his everyday form. "I must admit, I'm rather impressed," he conceded stiffly. "And it would seem that I've failed in my duty. Fighting for another's sake has never been my strong suit. I suppose congratulations are in order." He seized his cape and shrouded himself with it. "But make no mistake. We will meet again, and when that day comes, you will learn the the meaning of fear." Then, in a burst of purple energy, D vanished.

In the moment of silence that followed, though, there came one final surprise. Even as their bodies and collective intelligence disintegrated, however, the multitudes raised their wretched voices as one to make their last words heard.

”RESIGNATION IS MY VIRTUE. LIKE WATER, I EBB AND FLOW. DEFEAT IS SIMPLY THE ADDITION OF TIME TO A SENTENCE I NEVER DESERVED…BUT YOU IMPOSED.”

Nadia couldn’t help but shudder, but after the Gravemind delivered its own eulogy, its consciousness seemed to be gone for good. As the floodfestation died off, the branches and boughs they’d parasitized thrashed, withered, and began to fall apart. Cracks spread, the bark peeled away, and enormous slabs began to plummet toward the wastes below. With all the timefall dramatically hastening the Qliphoth’s degradation, it wasn’t hard to imagine the whole place coming down in half an hour or less. As much as Nadia wanted to slump down and not move for a good few hours, she knew she couldn’t relax just yet. “So…how’re we gettin’ outta here?” She craned her neck in the direction of the hollow’s entrance. “Race against the clock, all the way back to the bottom?”

“Nothing so dramatic.” Sandalphon’s voice reached her allies through their divine communication sigils, but after a pillar of blue light descended from the heavens, the archangel was here in the flesh. She’d arrived with a large, military-style duffle bag slung over her shoulder, just as she did in Mafia Town last night, and it didn’t take Nadia long to connect the dots. “Congratulations, Seekers. The World of Light is fifty-three point four percent saved. We cannot linger here, however. Everybody, please take a Fulton and prepare to ascend.”

The feral breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Finally, we get to do things the easy way for once.” After the odyssey it had taken the Seekers to reach this damn place, through rain-soaked wastelands infested with nuclear ghosts and a tower stuffed to the brim with monsters, the chance to soar straight out through the hole A opened in the roof was a welcome break. Practically the second she realized that she was in the clear, her adrenaline faded and fatigue came rushing in. Nadia laughed to herself and jogged over, shaking her head. “Jeez. What a day.”

Though eager to leave as the next guy, Grimm did not immediately follow Nadia’s example. After approaching Ganondorf he plucked the spirit of the Gravemind up in his slender black claws, but he did not try to use it. Instead he merely stared into the orb’s loathsome luster, his scarlet gaze almost reverent. Then he presented the spirit to Ganondorf, unaware of what needed to be done with it. ”To the victor go the spoils, hm?”

After that, he turned his attention to something nearby. It had been easy to miss in the heat of battle, but now that the action was over, it was practically impossible to miss. The reinforced coffin wielded by Goldlewis sat, motionless and silent, on the floor not so far from the wreckage of Drop in the Ocean. Though scuffed and scratched by countless battles in which it had served as a blunt force instrument, its heavy metal frame and spikes still shone with a defiant glint. Inside lurked the extraterrestrial entity that Goldlewis insisted on calling a cryptid, bereft of its bearer. Grimm approached it, his eyes unblinking. That man hadn’t been his friend, if such a concept existed in his mind to begin with, but Grimm knew that without Goldlewis, he wouldn’t be here. Now Goldlewis was gone, laid to rest in the Guardian’s grave, and though it wasn’t his coffin, this was all that remained of him.

When Grimm looked to his right, he found Sandalphon standing there. Her pupils resembled the lowercase letter V, and her hands were in her pockets as she bowed her head. “He was a soldier to the end. A man who walked hand in hand with death, bore its weight upon his shoulders his whole life, and who did not flinch from the end. We must take time to remember him.”

Grimm nodded, then bent down to take hold of the chain. He did not lay claim to it, and he could not carry it, but he could pull it back toward the group one tug at a time, in the hopes that someone else could carry its weight henceforth.

With the Qliphoth still falling apart, the team needed to get going. Once the Gravemind spirit, the veteran’s coffin, and any other immediate concerns were addressed, the Seekers could Fulton themselves up and out of the demon tree for aerial pickup by the Avenger. Though Nadia was among the first to extract, Sandalphon could wait to make sure everyone else made it before teleporting back. Over the course of this mission, she’d been tabulating a number of miscellaneous statistics, but four in particular stuck in her mind.

Twenty-four had entered. Twenty-one had returned.

Seven down. Six to go.



Yet again, Nadia came to in the bowels of the Avenger, surrounded by heavy-duty machinery in the dimly-lit deployment zone. Unlike last night, though, there were tons of people here waiting for the team, including Lost Numbers, former Alcamoth Mercenaries, reserve Seekers, and the three saved by Ace’s Palicos, not to mention the man himself. After everything that had happened, Nadia was especially relieved to see the Cadet safe and sound. There were no cheers or claps, fireworks, or party poppers, but everyone was ready and willing to do whatever they could to help the weary Seekers out. Bracket Brace was here with sodas, bottled waters, and snacks, while Eleison came prepared with medkits and vials of laudanum that could mitigate the stress they’d suffered. One could be certain that, despite the hour, Cirrus could be found in Stolen Moments, where visitors would find the memorial wall in dire need of an update.

Before everyone could go their separate ways, Sandalphon gave them a quick update. “I’ve conferred with Hope and Vandham. Though we are aggrieved to have sustained losses, the fact remains that you all fought well, and claimed victory. It is currently eleven fifty-one. The day is yours for decompression and recovery. After leaving Dead Zone airspace, the Avenger is bound for Hammerhead, to the south. We will reconvene in the Bridge at eighteen hundred hours to debrief, vote on our next destination, and hold a memorial service for the fallen, before proceeding to the mess hall for dinner. I understand that, for the first time since our arrival, the Commander will be making an appearance.” She paused, her face an unreadable mask. “Dismissed.”

Grimm stalked off without a word, the Grimmchild in tow. Nadia just sighed. Like many of the others, she imagined, she didn’t know what she wanted to do next. Get a drink, maybe? She’d drowned her sorrows after helping defeat the Orphan of Kos, after all. Then again, lunch sounded pretty good right about now, and afterward she could relax until Hammerhead, then maybe find something to do. It had been one hell of a morning.
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Dead Zone Hinterlands - Martira, Old Castle Town

Harry’s @Eviledd1984
Word Count: 1080


Though all four players saw Harry approach, none really noticed him until he boldly announced his presence, both the somewhat brazen interruption and his stated career choice earning him a bumper crop of wary, suspicious, or downright unpleasant looks from just about everyone in his immediate vicinity. While it seemed like the somewhat shady denizens of this particular corner of the Friendly Arm could stomach Morris -maybe due to his apparent gambling debts?- the strident arrival of a true-blue cop in their midst was a definite buzz killer. “Detective?” The bird-headed man questioned, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He fixed Morris with an unfriendly stare. “Friend of yours?”

“No,” Morris grunted through gritted teeth, either aggravated or embarrassed by the association, or both. After a second, though, he switched gears and tried to play off the annoyance casually. “Never seen ‘him before in me life.”

The tense atmosphere loosened a little once everyone realized what Harry’s concern was. Word of Martira’s crisis had reached even the most transient ears here, and few were truly cold-hearted enough to brush off the childrens’ plight. Still, even if a wolf happened to be chasing deer today, a hungry one might still snap at a rabbit, so Harry wouldn’t find much hospitality here. Once he started firing off questions, the crowd’s attention shifted back to Morris, who seemed to shrivel beneath the spotlight. “Uhh…”

After a second or so, the burly conductor sighed. “Well, don’t keep your buddy waitin’ on our account, Morris. Go ahead, your wallet could use the break anyway.” A wide grin spread across his face, and various onlookers snickered. The other players were all waiting to see his answer to what seemed like a test–to see where the guardsman’s priorities lay, and if he was still one of them or not.

Morris pursed his lips. “C’mon guys, I’m still in the game, yeah?” he insisted, not wanting to lose face. Turning toward Harry, he gave an exaggerated shrug. “Ach, can’t ye see I’m busy here, mate? It en’t even noon yet, so we got a while before any more wee ones go missin’. Go have yourself another round, will-!”

At that moment, however, the pot that had been boiling deep within Harry’s gut boiled over. Ever since he downed that Squeck Juice, his nagging symptoms of withdrawal had been relieved by the brain-numbing buzz, but the aftertaste of that ink-black brew had proven rather stubborn. No matter how many times he swallowed, that hoppy, saline flavor stuck to his throat, and after a minute or so it began to swell. There was a stirring, a squirming in his stomach, getting stronger by the second until finally, the detective couldn’t hold it back any longer.

With shocking suddenness, he doubled over the players’ table, throwing up a phlegmy, gelatinous wad of squano, which was even less pleasant than it sounded. It splattered across the wood, leaving Harry dizzy and one of the players’ winnings covered in gunk that reeked like a tide pool. The bird-headed man burst out in uproarious laughter, while Morris turned away, a pained expression on his face. The pink-haired woman, meanwhile, turned up her nose. “Are people really still falling for that?” She rolled her eyes.

Some bystanders joined in the fun, a couple friends even starting a chant. “Get squecked, get squecked!” they sang. Their merriment proved short-lived, however, when the conductor’s chair scraped backward across the floor, and the man rose to his feet. Everyone fell silent; it was his winnings that Harry had puked on, and judging by his face, he was not amused. He stood a head taller than the detective did, and twice as wide, not even accounting for the glowing green crystals that protruded from his shoulders. Standing before him felt like standing before a hurricane, earthquake, or tsunami–as if the full brunt of a natural disaster were about to descend on Harry at any moment.

Morris gulped, his eyes widening. “H-hey, Stein, let’s just-”

“Now, why’d you have to go and do that?” Stein’s voice had hardened considerably.

At that moment, though, the floor shook ever-so-slightly, then again, and again. Though Stein’s sunglasses shielded his eyes, his head tilted toward something above and behind Harry, at which point it became apparent that the miniature tremors possessed the cadence of heavy footfalls. The next moment, a huge, bell-shaped figure, seven and a half feet high, came to a stop. “We gonna have a problem here, fellas?” came a rich baritone underlaid by a smooth metallic echo.

Stein didn’t seem to flinch at the newcomer’s arrival, though. “Dunno.” He looked back down at Harry, raising an eyebrow. “Are we?”

“Daddy!” At the sound of a little girl’s voice, Stein immediately turned his head. A much gentler smile spread across his face as a little blue-haired girl in a white winged dress ran over. Just like that, the imminent disaster was gone, replaced by fatherly love at the drop of a hat. “Um, it’s almost lunchtime,” the girl informed him, her manner timid. “Can we go get lunch?”

“Heh. Yeah, I could eat.” Having crouched down to pick her up, Stein walked off without a second glance at Harry, his money, or anything else.

In the moment of silence that followed, Morris shrugged, throwing up his hands. “Well, guess that’s the game, anyway!” He tugged at his color, glancing over at the two newcomers. “Fine, fine, I’ll take your damn questions, but gimme a minute, will ya? Wait for me outside.”

“Works for me.” Keeping his arms hidden beneath his massive trench coat, the big man used his head and fedora to point Harry toward the door. “C’mon, slick.”

A few moments later, both were back in the sunlit town square. A spindly mechanical limb slid out from beneath the stranger's coat in order to tip his hat. “You a detective too, huh? Hard not to notice you beltin’ it out like that, heh. I figure subtlety ain’t your strong suit. Well, seein’ as we’re in the same boat with the missin’ kids case, I just figured I’d lend you a hand.” When Harry’s new acquaintance removed his face from his respirator, he looked a lot less scary. “They call me Big Band, and I’m all there is of the most real. How ‘bout you?”
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Big fan of Amaterasu! Everything looks good, she is approved.
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Dead Zone Hinterlands - Martira, Old Castle Town

Harry’s @Eviledd1984


Rummaging through waste on the way to the Friendly Arm turned up little in terms of value for Harry. His search turned up what one might expect: food waste (whether spoiled or inedible like peels and stems), broken or used-up objects, bits of excess building materials, and so forth. A broken bottle could conceivably be used as a weapon, and certain discarded items might still have a few uses left in them, but he didn’t find any spare change or refuse worth selling. In a village used to hard times, it seemed that people lived sparingly, and got their money’s worth out of every last cent. Taking the disturbed expressions of nearby onlookers into account, Harry’s efforts probably came to a deficit in terms of social value. The red-haired noblewoman, in particular, did not seem impressed by his self-assuredness; the look she gave him was rather pitying, the sort one might give a lame horse as its owner came to put it out of its misery.

On the ground floor of the Friendly Arm, Harry found a bar just as expected. The bartender, whose name tag read ‘Gillian’ was a young-looking man with scruffy dark hair and a patchy goatee. Not seemingly very outgoing, he focused on his duties with a serious, taciturn expression until the newcomer spoke up first. When asked about Morris, he took a quick look around, then -with the second of the two questions being a little easier to answer’ decided to tackle Harry’s queries in reverse order. Notably, he did not give Harry’s somewhat desperate attempt to nurse his empty wine bottle a second glance; no doubt this place had seen its fair share of boozers.

“Oily Oaf, or Squeck Juice?” he replied succinctly, reciting the names of the inn’s cheapest ails but nothing else about them. Depending on which one he chose, Harry would be in for a very different experience; Oily Oaf was light, but with a rich, buttery aftertaste, while Squeck Juice was inky, salty, and hoppy, liable to get him more inebriated but guaranteed to give him hiccups. Once Harry had officially patronized the establishment and received his beverage of choice, Gillian went ahead and addressed his other question. “You’ll find Morris at the card tables in the back,” he reported.

When Harry followed the barman’s directions, he found not one but several tables where customers were playing cards. The most notable one sported a quartet of anthropomorphic animals stressing out and accusing one another over some sort of simple but high-stakes card game, while others harbored more customary sorts like the typical long-eared Roussaintes, doglike Paripus, and angel-winged Ishkia. After a minute or so Harry could identify one man in the trappings of a guard, though. He was a dour-looking Clemar with violet eyes and brown hair tied back in a bun, and if the distribution of chips at his table was anything to go by, he seemed to be doing poorly. His opponents -a bushy-tailed witch, a big man with a bird head, an even bigger man with long ears, grayish skin, and crystalline protrusions- all seemed to be doing much better. Just as Harry walked up, the bird man reached out and scooped a big pile of chips toward him with his arms, chirping uproariously–and in a thick Russian accent. “Hah! Another round like that, Mister Morris, and you’ll have to take out another loan! Hahahaha!”

The big conductor shrugged it off and the witch took a sip of her drink, but Morris put his head in his hands. “Damn it!” he growled, even more Scottish than Bardon had been. “Why me?”

The Qliphoth - the Final Hollow

Lvl 14 Ms Fortune (187/140) Lvl 9 Goldlewis (122/90) Lvl 7 Sandalphon (84/70) Lvl 4 Grimm (37/40)
Midna, Junior, & Rika’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Roland’s @Archmage MC Geralt, Zenkichi & Edelgard’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Ace Cadet, Pit, Primrose & Therion’s @Yankee Juri’s @Zoey Boey Roxas, Ganondorf, & Captain Falcon’s @Double


Though she typically pre-furred to be optimistic, for the others’ sakes if not her own, Nadia got the sneaking suspicion that what appeared to be D’s defeat was a little too good to be true. Considering the fight he put up as a mere Consul, she would have expected D to get more mileage out of his fearsome Moebius form than this. Nevertheless, she tried to hope for the best as she gathered up alongside Roxas, Geralt, Falcon, and Therion, taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. By now, fatigue and injury were taking a toll on all of them. She herself needed healing, or at least a while to regenerate while her Life Gem did its thing, and the others probably weren’t much better off. Maybe they were trying to look on the bright side too, but with O’s fate unknown, and the battles against the Gravemind and A raging on elsewhere, it was hard to feel like the fight was over. Still…the Seekers had to be getting close!

After another moment, D’s eyes flickered open. Instantly he burst into a swarm of bats that surged upward like water from a geyser, quickly distancing themselves from the melee-oriented team. “I’ve toyed with you miserable cretins enough,” his disembodied voice snarled. Only once about a hundred feet in the air did the bats coalesce into the Consul once more, and with the aid of his magic D hung in the air, scythe at the ready, glaring down at the Seekers imperiously. “I had thought to honor your reckless courage with a personal death at my own hand.” Sophisticated purple and red magic circles inscribed themselves in the air around him, layered and turning. “But now, you will suffer the dispassionate indignity of bombardment from afar, without the faintest hope of fighting back!”

So saying, the Consul began to cast. D conjured a roving deluge of boiling blood, a rain of meteors, spinning sickles, batstreams that spiraled down to crash against the floor with crushing force, and Destruction Rays one after another. From his lofty -and mobile- vantage point he could abuse his seemingly infinite reserves of mana while none of his challengers could even hope to reach him, let alone hurt him. Some of the five had appreciable aerial mobility, but all ultimately fell short, especially with D’s smorgasbord of sorcery coming the opposite way. True his word, this was no longer a real fight; it was a hellstorm in which it took everything the enervated Seekers had just to survive. “Yes! Run, run!” D taunted from above. “Draw your deaths out as long as you like! I am Moebius - I have all the time in the world!”

One side-effect of the havoc wreaked by Moebius D was its potential for interfering in other fights, at least one of which could really use the help. Though dauntingly hardy at first blush once it went mobile, the Gravemind quickly found staunch opposition in the form of Ganon. Mostly ignoring the other Seekers’ efforts, the two giants traded blows, Ganon faster than his foe but obliged to work harder to pierce the Gravemind’s tougher defenses. Thanks to Sandalphon’s Angel Wings and Blazermate’s continuous restoration, though, the Gravemind’s toxic biological countermeasures were not as great a concern for him, and with the bestial warlord taking point the heroes made good progress. After one head fell the spore grenades spouted from its severed stump complicated things, but the heroes did not relent. Edelgard strove to put Sandalphon’s advice into action by targeting one of the giant horror’s three mammoth legs, Once she softened it up with Flickering Flower, Zenkichi braved the Gravemind’s fumes and fury to shatter the wounded limb with a fully-charged Eruption, its raw force and explosive flame proving equal to the task. Once its leg was crippled, the ungainly amalgamate’s own weight did the rest, and as a thousand twisted voices wailed the Gravemind crashed to the floor.

That was just the opportunity that Blazermate had been waiting for. Sensing victory, the dutiful medabot gave Ganon the second wind he needed to push toward the battle’s finale. Strengthened by the Kritzkrieg, Zenkichi’s Heat Riser, and more, the behemoth went whole hog against the downed Gravemind in a terrific physical and magical onslaught. He chewed through his foe’s innate damage reduction and demolished it one big chunk at a time. Its agonized roar shook the Qliphoth, as if the demon tree itself were screaming. ”I HAVE SPENT EONS WAITING, WATCHING, PLANNING! WILL NOT AGAIN BE TORN ASUNDER! NOT NOW THAT I'M FREE, NOT NOW THAT I’M WHOLE!” Even if the Kritzkrieg’s ubercharge lasted only eight seconds, it was enough to turn the tide irreversibly in Ganon’s favor. Within fifteen seconds, a second head had been destroyed: the Ancient Infested head, responsible for the manipulation of the Gravemind’s colossal scythe. Immobilized and robbed of two heads, the Gravemind could do little but spew its infectious vapors if Ganon remained on the opposite side. Even the tentacles of the Brother Moon overhead, stretching ever closer to the Qliphoth, seemed to writhe in shared pain.

As its biomass was reduced, it was losing its intelligence–its very sense of self. The Gravemind had only one card left to play. As the Seekers’ assault continued, somewhat less than before, it began one final, large-scale transformation. Its body shifted and reshaped itself, splitting into five pieces. Two were formed from its other legs, and the other two had the bulk from its remaining head. Once separated they attacked, one each for Zenkichi and Edelgard with two to try and occupy Ganon. From the wreckage of the Gravemind’s body, however, rose its core in the form of a bloated mish-mash somewhere between a Bomber Form and a Genetrix. Jettisoning non-essential tissue as spore grenades, the Gravecore floated upward, as if to reunite with the Brother Moon far above.

Following Midna’s death, A resumed the fight against Primrose and Roland with a cold nonchalance, as if nothing at all had happened. By its logic, perhaps, an eventuality had merely come to pass, and more were soon to come. For the Seekers, though, things were different now. They had somebody to avenge, and something they could not allow to transpire again. Intensified and razor-sharp, the dancer and the fixer went to work, and a moment later they found their efforts joined by those of Goldlewis Dickinson. The veteran belted out his fury as he attacked, alternating between Behemoth Typhoons and shotgun fisticuffs.

Tactically speaking, A was a risk that could no longer be tolerated, but Goldlewis would be lying if he said there wasn’t a personal element to his wild assault, too. He kept up the pressure on A while Roland sealed him with Emerald and Primrose tempered herself with a well-timed dance. As soon as her performance concluded, a maelstrom of savage shadows and deadly flames befell the Consul, each smoldering burn converted into a single incinerating burst. After another few seconds, even more backup arrived in a form that none of the other Seekers recognized: a huge, arthropod juggernaut, whose startling screech had reverberated around the hollow moments before. The sight of it threw Goldlewis off, but since it didn’t fit the opposition’s aesthetic he held off making judgements, and the sight of the Monster bulling into A the next moment dispelled all doubt.

The combined koopa kids crashed into A like a landslide, the mighty impact actually doubling A over and leaving it vulnerable. They pressed their advantage without hesitation, and the rest of their team followed their example. Berzerk Blast paved the way for Rites of Termination, Furioso’s finale, and finally, a brutal Down With the System from Goldlewis. It was a staggering beatdown, leaving A unable to fight back for more reasons than one, and yet…

Moebius A still clung to life. ”Self-deceiving figments!” Its voice was frayed by its fury, rendered by ruptured organs that railed and refused to give in. ”I WILL HAVE MY DUE!” Before the Seekers could destroy it, the thing they all feared came to pass–a second, terrible invocation of its eldritch power, Undo. The hollow around them melted into a that loathsome chamber surrounded on all sides by nightmarish masses of meat. ”CHOOSE!”

“Damn it!” Goldlewis growled between haggard, panting breaths. Even after Sandalphon’s healing, he was on his last legs, his mind and body under a great deal of strain, and now he was going to lose another ally. He’d only spent a short time with Midna, but he could see her face in his mind’s eye, clear as day. Her voice and her visage haunted him, joined to the ethereal chorus that had hounded him all his years. How many more men and women were going to die under his command!?

Goldlewis clenched his jaw, steadying himself. It was wrong to give into hysteria; if all the blood on his hands hadn’t broken him before, one more corpse on the pile wouldn’t break him now. Nevertheless, the loss of her life weighed on him, and after a moment something dawned on him. It didn’t seem right that he, a tired and sad old man, a soldier of a dozen campaigns, ought to keep living while the young ones with bright futures ahead of them went away. For a long time, Goldlewis had considered the possibility of giving his life for his country -for its people- the highest honor. Freedom wasn’t free, after all; somebody always had to pay the price. The last time A used this dreadful dark art, the other Seekers had quailed from his proffered grasp. He had quailed. He hadn’t said anything, but a dozen thoughts had rushed through his head, a dozen reasons why it should be somebody else, anybody but him. If nothing changed, though, these walls of flesh would come crashing in, and destroy the whole team where they stood.

”What now, you who remain?” A crowed as the unfathomably maw closed in around the Seekers. ”Moebius fills you. Moebius IS you. Return, from whence you came!”

Goldlewis blinked. “Ohhh…” he murmured, scratching his beard with a wry smile. “So that’s it. I see. Well.” He took a deep breath. They did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death. Then he opened his eyes. “Fine.”

Aboard the Avenger, Sandalphon widened her eyes, her pupils no more than empty rings. “Goldlewis!”

For a moment A gnashed its teeth, but it obliged him all the same. A tentacle shot forward, twisting toward Goldlewis. His face tightened as his breath billowed across his whiskers from his nose, and with nothing else to his name, he raised a fist in defiance. “I’m ready!” he barked, leaping up in order to airdash toward him. Time seemed to slow as the arrowhead tentacle veered toward him. With his left hand he extended two fingers toward the Consul, like a baseballer calling a home run. Veins bulged and glasses shattered as Goldlewis then threw his right punch. “How ‘bout you!?”

The next moment, it was done. Roland, Primrose, and the Monster stood alone in the Final Hollow before Moebius A, the monster slumped over and on its last legs. The heart in its back pounded, its terrible powers were mostly exhausted or sealed, and it had only a few eyes left with which to stare balefully at its lessers. Nevertheless, it lived. ”Even the aged oak will fall to the tempest's winds.” it remarked, lifting its arms for the final round. ”More dust. More ashes. More disappointment.”
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Dead Zone Hinterlands - Martira, Old Castle Town

Harry’s @Eviledd1984


“Ach, of course, we’ll get those right away.” Bardon looked around until he spotted one of the guards from his patrol who had yet to disperse, primarily due to the Recruitment Center’s resident beagle who’d made a beeline for him in search of attention. He was a young, clean-shaven man whose kettle helm hung down over his eyes, and though unremarkable at first blush, he seemed eager and pleasant enough if the dog’s favoritism was anything to go by. After a moment spent trying to catch the guardsman’s attention, Bardon cleared his throat. “Ahem!”

The young man perked up right away, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh! Right away, sir!” He patted the beagle’s head twice and then took off at a jog, though naturally his companion followed on his heels, floppy ears streaming behind her.

Suppressing a smile, Bardon refocused on Harry. “Beg your pardon. As for your other questions, er. I’m afraid wee ones have been goin’ missin’ for a while now, at least a month. We thought it was the Dead Zone monsters at first, so…we looked to our defenses from the outside, never guessin’ that it was someone sneakin’ in. We don’t know when Heismay started lurkin’ around, but we’ve seen him, aye. My second-in-command, Morris, saw the blackguard himself, skulkin’ around the lower districts in the dead of night. Just about caught him red-handed, too, but he slipped away, and he’s gotten more careful–none of my men have seen him since.” The knight balled his fist, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. “It’s a right sorry state of affairs.”

Just then, the Gatekeeper returned with a notepad, quill, and bottle of ink, which he promptly offered to Harry while the beagle snuffled at his shoes. “Here you are, sir! If you need anything else, let me know!” After tossing a scrap of jerky to distract the dog, he hoofed it in the other direction, eager to resume his customary post.

“Right then.” Bardon stood up from his table and extended his hand to shake Harry’s. “I should get goin’. I’ll let the boys know to make you comfortable ‘round town. If you’re lookin’ for somewhere to start, Morris might have some clues about Heismay. He’s off-duty in the mornin’, so I expect you’ll find him at the Friendly Arm. Can’t miss it, it’s the biggest inn around. Best place to catch up on the latest rumors, too. Could be a speck of truth in ‘em somewhere we missed. Best of luck to ye.”

With that, Bardon was off. When Harry stepped back out into the late morning sunlight, he no longer saw some sleepy backwater hamlet, but a dozen deviating pathways spiralling outward into a hidden web of secrets. A lot hung in the balance for how little he had to go on, but already he could see the pieces arranged on this board, and no problem worth solving was easy. The game was on.

In front of him lay the town plaza, with its central fountain dutifully splashing away. Most of the town’s established businesses inhabited buildings around this plaza or along the upward hillside road to the old keep, but a few itinerant merchants had planted stalls along the mossy cobblestones here. They kept a sharp eye out for both danger and potential customers; the general atmosphere here seemed to indicate that nobody could be too careful. The most well-to-do among them was a portly, bespectacled fellow who seemed be selling premium cooking ingredients, which had garnered the interest of a round, orange-furred creature and a young, red-haired lady in expensive-looking attire. Aside from the handful of vendors, though, this public space harbored only a scant few residents whiling away the time. Between here and the Friendly Arm, only a couple people stood out: a bard in a distinctive bear-skin cowl livening things up a little, a dapper man with long sky-blue hair beneath a black bowler hat taking in the scenery with strange, sapphire-bright eyes, and a random gunslinger seated in a corner who seemed to be crafting potions with herbs, mushrooms, and honey. If there were any children left around here, they were locked up tight indoors.
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
The Qliphoth - the Final Hollow

Lvl 14 Ms Fortune (179/140) Lvl 9 Goldlewis (122/90) Lvl 7 Sandalphon (84/70) Lvl 4 Grimm (37/40)
Junior & Rika’s @DracoLunaris Blazermate & Roland’s @Archmage MC Geralt, Zenkichi & Edelgard’s @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Pit, Primrose & Therion’s @Yankee Juri’s @Zoey Boey Roxas, Ganondorf, & Captain Falcon’s @Double
Word Count: 1882 (+3x2)


Though smaller and perhaps less imposing like this, the Gravemind’s new form was in almost all aspects a straight upgrade. Being able to move, and at not insignificant speeds, made it a harder target by default, and as Zenkichi quickly found out when he spent big on Agneyastra, it was much, much hardier than it looked. Those meteors made an impact on his target, but not nearly as much as they should have. In fact, the Gravemind’s new body -a hyper dense composite of all the strongest materials from its constituent biomass- reduced all incoming damage by a whopping seventy percent. It barely flinched from the detective’s Ragnell blasts, and his bullets only scratched it. With the Gravemind stomping around, blanketing large swathes of the arena with toxic smog as it swung its scythe to and fro, this would be a tedious war of attrition if he couldn’t figure out a better way to fight it.

Fortunately, that was what Sandalphon was for. When called, the archangel answered immediately, though she seemed to be raising her voice over background noise that sounded rather like her using her gunstaff. “It’s not just the heads themselves. I have identified one point of interest on each. Look for pink glowing light. Enough damage to one may eliminate one head entirely. Accomplishing this would take more focus and ammunition than you can spare, though. I recommend targeting a leg. With the weight distribution of its new form spread over only three legs, it will drop if it loses even one.”

Not everyone needed to sweat the details, however. For Grimm, the plan was the same as ever. As dangerous as the Consuls were, the Troupe Master was well aware of the team’s real objective, so despite their reduced effectiveness he continued his hit-and-run tactics. Grimm launched firebats from afar, warped in to ignite the Gravemind’s legs with claw slashes, and speared those limbs from below, covered by supporting fire from his Grimmchild. With his natural constitution and the regular heals from Fire Enthusiast, he did not recoil from the Gravemind’s toxic clouds; if anything, they made it harder for the Guardian to lash out at him.

Ganondorf needed no such tactics, though. After startling both enemy and ally alike with his intense, resounding bellow, he transformed into Ganon to turn the scramble against the Gravemind into a clash of the titans. The great beast poured his fury into an onslaught against the nearest head, the one with lateral tentacles and a boxy shape. Only with the help of its damage reduction could the Gravemind withstand his outrage. The pounding, slashing, maiming assault, followed by a cascade of Dark Breath, proved enough to destroy the targeted head, but after reeling the Gravemind struck back. Given plenty of time to take aim, the head to the left swung its massive scythe just beneath Ganon’s collarbone, hard enough to pierce deep into the monstrous warlord’s body. Then, with its target impaled and unable to move, the Gravemind used both its third head and the stump of its first to launch a bombardment of spore grenades that pummeled Ganon like a cluster bomb. Blazermate would find her impressive single-target healing pushed to its limits by such a vicious response. As the bombardment concluded, however, Grimm appeared on Ganon’s shoulder and threw open his cape to help out with a firebat salvo to the Gravemind’s stump. ”Hear its swan song,” he rasped as the undead voices wailed. ”The curtain calls. Fight on!”

On the other side of the arena, after their scramble to get past O’s attractions, Junior and Rika made an entrance by busting into the Command Center’s reinforced dome with a mighty swing from the crane ride’s submersible pod. With a tremendous crash, they fell through a shower of glass into the jungle enclosure of the Tyrannosaurus that Juri had escaped a few seconds prior, triggering the beast’s fight or flight instinct. While the kids might not escape the T-rez as easily as she did, Juri at least was free to hunt O down–a fact that did not go unnoticed by the incredulous Consul himself.

Back toward the hollow’s front, Consul D scowled at the sight of Roxas and his split keyblade toss. He curled his wings around to shield himself from both sides. The weapons bounced off, but after he’d taken so many light-infused shots from Pit already, the extra bursts jolted his wings enough that he couldn’t use them to take flight for a moment. “Insolent whelp!” He unleashed a tunnel of flame from within his cape. Once it destroyed the boy’s charge shot, he dragged the infernal torrent around to target the whole team, blasting Nadia on the way. What he did not notice, however, was the raw slab of meat that plopped down at his feet.

“Meat your match!” Nadia shouted with a wink.

When a huge tiger popped into being, D’s first thought was to back up. Instead he backed into the cubes placed by Roxas, and in that moment of stoppage the tiger’s claws mitt raked across his left forearm. “Damn you!” He sliced at the beast with his scythe, ducked around another slash, then opened its chest from hip to shoulder to banish the tiger from existence.

At that moment, though, another steak smacked him, and another tiger appeared. Nadia was spawning them as fast as she could, gleefully chortling as she burned through her limited ammo. “Watch out–these aren’t miss-steaks!” With D still losing ground, he couldn’t dispatch the feral’s tigers faster than she could summon them, so as the blood rain petered out and his other foes pushed in, he performed an evasive mist step backward.

He reappeared at the remains of his throne, his breathing labored. Though he managed to make his opponents pay for every inch, he could not deny the fact that the Seekers were gaining ground, much to his chagrin. The two hunters possessed both skill and power, the two boys wielded his weakness alongside their dual blades, and the two thieves imaginatively and mercilessly exploited every opportunity. Now that they were working together, bringing their varied abilities to bear two or three at a time, the six were proving to be troublesome. Not more than he could handle, he didn’t think, but perhaps more trouble than the Guardian was worth.

D looked around for a moment, alerted to the distinct lack of widespread chaos. While he could see plenty of stuff that O left behind, his fellow Consul’s disembodied eyes were nowhere to be seen. Had O already been defeated? Forced to retreat? Or to focus on saving himself? With how strong the Seekers must be to challenge him to this extent, D would not be surprised to learn that O had been beaten, that old fool. Meanwhile the Gravemind had lost or consolidated enough mass to go mobile. The Brother Moon descended from the skies above, which would almost certainly wipe the heroes out once it arrived, but while D could feel a terrible power -even by his standards- emanating from A, it did not seem like the Consul could escalate any further. Meanwhile, the Seekers still swarmed the place like gnats. Far too many remained at this point, given how many Consuls happened to be backing the Guardian up, himself amongst them!

“...Vermin!” D spat. Even if things weren’t going to plan, he would not relent so long as the Guardian lived. To that end, it was time for him to follow in A’s footsteps. “Consider yourselves honored,” he announced, the Moebius core in his chest spinning up. “Today, you will have the privilege of witnessing my true, perfect form!” In a surge of purple light D transformed, entering his twelve-foot tall Moebius form, his enormous wing-like arms spread wide as he leered down at the Seekers. “Grovel before me, and your deaths will be mercifully swift!”

Nadia looked up as she retrieved her daggers, then slipped them back into her belt with a sigh. Her burns and other wounds were regenerating well enough, and the feral knew she could keep fighting, but even she was starting to lose steam. “Sheesh. You bozos don’t know when to quit!”

For a moment Moebius A’s attention had remained on the majestic nightmare unfolding far above him, eyes wide as if in admiration of the cataclysmic horror soon to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting Seekers, if not the World of Light itself. Once he came under fire, however, he returned his focus to his enemies. It looked like a new batch of would-be heroes had subbed in for those left dazed and reeling from his stresscasting, lest they succumb to a breakdown like that tactician did. A smart move on Seekers’ part, but ultimately a futile one. These fools would fall like all the rest–one way or another. ”Ringing ears. Blurred vision. The end approaches!”

A soon realized, though, that his new challengers were every bit as tenacious as his last. Fresh from their respective fights, these courageous few hit the ground running, piling on a lot of damage in a short time. Though Midna, hit hard, few hit harder than her colossal thrall’s greatsword, which cleaved away a whole chunk of A’s vitality in one blow. Roland followed up with an even more spectacular feat that had to be seen to be believed. And while he might resist Primrose’s sorcery to begin with, every spell she landed made him more susceptible, and Luna pierced his defenses. Perhaps the loss of their comrades or the dreadful sight of that aberrant moon spurred them to new heights, forcing them to make the most of what little time they had left.

Of course, A struck back with a vengeance. He wielded his formidable Moebius body to unleash a slew of brutal attacks targeting the Seekers with the lowest resistances. Dissolution could leave foes stunned and blighted by the awful sensation of flesh-eating bacteria, while the wounds left by Puncture bled exorbitantly. He could even target the mind with Know This, ravaging the Seekers’ sanity instead of their bodies. All the same, his attackers did not relent, and as his own vitality continued to drain, A's anger rose. These imbeciles still did not understand what they were doing–and it was time to show them.

His eye and core gleamed with vivid crimson light as A spread his arms wide. “Moebius gave every one of you life!” he cried. “And Moebius can take it away! Come, unto your maker!”

Immediately, the whole battlefield seemed to shift around the Seekers. Their vision swam, heavily distorted, and the darkness closed in. When their surroundings finally resolved themselves, they seemed to be in a dark, dome-shaped room with walls of moving, amorphous flesh, lined with eyes and fangs. Those walls shifted and well, slowly closing in on the trapped heroes. Their will and ability to fight had deserted them, leaving them paralyzed by something akin to fear as they stood before a floating Moebius A, his hand extended downward as if to accept one of his enemies’.

”Choose.”

Nadia shrank away from the monstrous thing’s hand, her ears flattened and her teeth bared. What was happening? Why couldn’t she fight back? She willed her claws to sharpen, and her muscles to tense, but her body didn’t obey. Instead her heart pounded, and her nerves trembled. None of this made any sense! It sounded like A was forcing one of her teammates to offer themselves up. For what sinister purpose, she could only imagine, but it wasn’t hard to grasp the dreadful implication within A’s words. She knew only one thing: that she refused to play along. She couldn’t die here. She wouldn’t! Not after everything she’d lost to get this far. Not before everything she stood to gain! “Sorry, A-hole. I’ve got too much to live for to die here!” And with that, the buck was passed.

”I’m… Not coming back from that. The me that is here is the only one that will ever be me, and so you can’t have me back” Rika replied in turn. The girl’s entire being was entirely a product of the world of light, of this one life in it. She was only a step behind the lost numbers in that regard, because without the events of the past few weeks, she would be nothing but a nameless pawn of the abyssal fleet. There was little to no chance the coincidence that had freed her, created her, would ever happen if she was respawned, and so she declared ”and you’ll never make another me again!”

Roland got ready himself for this incoming attack. He was a survivor, he wouldn’t just give himself up to some monster, only the foolish do that. No matter the trial, no matter the opponent, he’d fight for his survival and this wasn’t any different. ”I don’t listen to lunatics. You're not the first, and you won't be the last.”

Edelgard bristled, her eyes blazing with fury. ”I have too much to do to falter here. The people of Adrestia still need their Empress, monster.”

Next up was Juri. ”Not it!” She said, teeth clenched.

Though Grimm’s eyes burned with scarlet flame, the gaze that fell on Moebius A was cold. ”If you are not my nightmare’s heart, my flames will not stoke you.”

Geralt simply sighed. “Not happening.”

Zenkichi, on the other hand, slumped his shoulders. It felt like the weight of the world was resting on him. But he took a deep breath, and stood to his full height. ”No. We stand together. We live together.”

Though unable to move, Primrose's eyes flashed with deadly anger. So this was what Sandalphon had warned them about, how A had overcome other parties of would be world saviors in the past. It was quite cruel - she could easily imagine the selfless people that would have given themselves over to him to save their friends.

But that wasn't her.

"You won't have me," she said. "I won't be stopped, not until I have my vengeance."

Therion did not have any grand reason for wanting to stay alive, and figured he didn't really need one. When A's gaze passed over him he tensed and only said, "I don't think so."

"As if any one of us is gonna give in to the likes of you!" Pit added, a defiant stare turned up at the Moebius.

”Yeah you're not going to get the team medic to agree to that. Or anyone.” Blazermate said, staring darts at A as she wanted to just ubersaw him to make her allies finish him faster.

At some point, the walls of this extra-dimensional meat-space had gotten too close to ignore. They shifted and changed in a most horrifically fascinating way, an endless churn of new winking eyes, new gnashing teeth, and new covetous claws. Those eldritch boundaries rose up beneath the Seekers, lifting them higher, descended toward them, and closed in around them. The walls quivered, like a dam about to burst. All the while A’s rictus grin of metal and bone seemed to grow wider and wider as the entity recorded the responses. ”Ahh! Moebius is strong within you! We are your trembling limbs, your chattering teeth, your muttered excuses, your averted eyes! By all means, then, stay! Abide with us, within our Endless Now!”

As the walls closed in, and the certainty that something terrible was going to happen began to set in, Jr glanced at his sister then and began to say something, only to be immediately cut off by the masked figure to his side.

”Come and take me then, as if it will help you!” Midna declared. Her expression was hidden, but her nails were pressed so hard into her hands she was drawing blood as she steeled herself for the end. But then, after all ”What’s one more death in this world?”

A stared at her for a moment, silent. The walls of this aberrant realm stilled, the gleeful hunger of Consul and cosmos alike quelled, as if the feast set before them had been replaced by a mere morsel. Then his chest shifted, and an amorphous tentacle extended. It stretched through the air, its barbed tip aglow with an awful crimson light, and sank into Midna’s chest. She jolted sharply, then relaxed. Her eyes slid closed, and as her body turned to light, her sigh echoed through the eldritch space. Then there was a flash, and everything had returned to how it had been before A cast his fell magic. That nightmare, at least, was over, but the Twilight Princess was gone.

The next second, though, the eighteen who remained experienced a surge of nauseating existential terror. Between the Brother Moon on its way, Midna’s all-too-sudden end, and the fact that all four foes stood stronger than ever, it was a lot to bear. For those subjected to arcane physical and psychological torment by A, however, it proved to be entirely too much to bear. The extra stress pushed Goldlewis, Ganondorf, Captain Falcon, and Therion over the edge, and their bodies rebelled like Edward’s had. Goldlewis sank to his knees with a hollow, guttural groan, clutching his chest in the throes of a heart attack. Pain, fatigue, lightheadedness, dizziness, nausea, cold sweat–it all hit the man like a freight train as he suffered a meltdown. For once in the veteran’s life his strength, honed by bearing countless heavy burdens, proved insufficient to shoulder the weight of what he’d experienced.

From the perspective of Moebius D, the Seekers had vanished for a moment, then reappeared none the worse for wear, only for half of his challengers to falter the next moment. With only Geralt, Roxas, and Pit still standing before his new form, his victory seemed all but certain. A nasty grin spread across his demonic face. “Ah, so even heroes can be made to kneel! A wise choice!” He lifted his scythe, enlarged to suit his bigger body. ”In that case, I shall make good on my word!”

A beam of bright blue light descended from the sky, its holy radiance brilliant enough to give the vampiric Consul pause. When it ended Sandalphon stood there in the glow of her three-ring halo, her face hard as she clutched her gunstaff with both hands. It was true that she’d lacked the skill charge to help out so far, but that was before she requested the aid of Sectonia’s Antlers to use as batteries. “Seekers of Light, do not despair! Stand strong, in Illia’s name!” she called out as she cast Angelic Wings. Circuits of light spread along the Qliphoth floor around her in intricate circular patterns as holy screens picked up speed, then spread outward. Her miraculous skill not only fully healed all nearby allies, but thanks to Coordination Protocol, boosted their maximum health by twenty percent if they had any status afflictions to purge. Then Sandalphon brought down her staff to leave behind a healing circle, and with every ounce of strength left in her hoarse voice cried, “Onward, to victory!”

“Gah!” D snarled, having shielded his eyes from the archangel’s light. He watched as Goldlewis, Falcon, and Therion got back up, then snorted. “Very well. Slow and painful it is!” He drew in magic power, then spread his limbs. “Destruction Ray!” From each and every claw -including those on his wings- flew a beam of purple dark magic that arced through the air. Unlike Dominus Hatred, these rays would seek their targets, and three sought out Sandalphon in particular. They shot down at her with blistering speed, but before the beams could make contact, the archangel disappeared once more.

Two cycles until the Brother Moon’s impact
In World of Light: the Endless Now (The Ultimate Smash Bros Crossover) → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Dead Zone Hinterlands - Martira, Old Castle Town

Harry’s @Eviledd1984


Owed in large part to its age and origins, Martira was not the simplest town to navigate. Its core had been built to not to facilitate quick and easy travel, but to obstruct and frustrate invaders back when war had embroiled the Kingdom of Euchronia. During the times of relative peace that followed, the surviving soldiers beat their swords into plowshares and raised families in this borderland bastion. As a result, Martira had not undergone any urban planning, but had grown in an almost organic fashion around the old keep. The locals might know its irregularities like the backs of their hands, but newcomers were bound to experience their fare share of wandering.

As such, Harry had plenty of time to take in the sights, and he certainly found his fair share of interesting things to see, but what he did not find was an excess of hospitality. The townsfolk here were furtive, nervous, and standoffish. Learning about the calamitous Dead Zone in uncomfortably close proximity to Martira would explain some of this behavior, but not all of it, since most of the citizens seemed rather cagey about something specific to Harry himself, completely unrelated to the accursed territories nearby. As Harry saw more people and got a better idea of the populace, however, he might begin to figure things out. The vast majority of Martira’s townsfolk sported not-standard features of some stripe, such as strange ears, horns, animal tails, or straight-up inhuman physiology. Of particular prominence were the Roussainte, the tall long-eared ones, and the Clemar, with their distinctive horns. Each ‘tribe’ tended to be clannish and curt, if not downright exclusory, to the others, and for some reason or another that seemed to go double for Harry. Everywhere he went he found strange looks, wary glances, and narrowed eyes, and the word ‘Elda’ muttered under folks’ breath.

After about half an hour, and a couple inquiries at incorrect places, Harry finally found the guard captain at the Martira Guard Center. It was essentially a one-stop shop for recruitment, bounties, barracks, and everything that concerned the town’s defenses, and a Dead Zone patrol led by Bardon himself had just returned. While his squad dispersed in the general direction of Martira’s taverns, though, Bardon himself stuck around, offering the detective the perfect chance to meet him.

Bardon turned out to be a tall, broad-shouldered, middle-aged fellow whose long ears marked him as a Roussainte, to use the local terminology. Formidable, but not flashy, he sported an olive green overcoat tailored to be worn over high-quality plate mail, with a saber at his side and an arcane artifact known as a Magic Igniter around his neck. He had grayish hair just starting to thin, a chinstrap beard, and an exceptionally stern expression. Children seemed to quail at the sight of him, but he bore no hostility–only a frank and painfully serious nature. When he caught sight of a newcomer, his initial surprise quickly gave way to hope.

“G’mornin’ to ye,” Bardon greeted Harry with a strong Scottish accent. “There’s lots o’ folks ‘round here that need help, but if you came to me lookin’ for work, aye, there’s somethin’ I -the whole town really- need help with. I dinnae think it would come to this, but…loathe as we are to admit it to outsiders, we’re desperately in o’er our heads at this point. See, every week or so, some wee lad or lass goes missin’. Sometimes two or three at a time. At first we thought it was monsters from the Dead Zone, but it blew up almost two weeks ago and the situation hasn’t improved." Though he kept a stiff upper lip, Bardon seemed rather despondent about the whole matter, as if the burden of responsibility lay on his shoulders alone.

After a moment he cleared his throat and continued. "The only lead we’ve got left is Heismay, a disgraced knight who’s been livin’ near town. Problem is, he’s holed up in ol’ Curien Mansion up the hill. Place is a deathtrap, and we don’t have the soldiers to storm it. If you can solve this crisis, the bounty on Heismay’s head is yours. Lady Joanna put it up herself, so you can expect a handsome reward.” Bardon pursed his lips, his hand rested on his belt by the hilt of his sword. “If there’s anythin’ ye need, anythin’ at all, whatever assistance I can offer is yours.”
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