Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[rozukitsune]

​

Angel had convinced himself that, once done speaking, Euclair would go back to flirting with the merchant or whatever she was really up to and leave him alone. Not once, for even a second; did he consider the idea that she might invite him along. He jerked in place as she first volunteered him, his hand gripping his drink so hard he thought he might have broken the container if it were actually made of something other than iron. Then she was talking him up to the merchant and he could hardly believe his ears. He turned toward them with furrowed brow, ignoring the weird colloquialism about the 'eyes' he was giving her since he had no fucking clue what that was even supposed to mean - trying to figure out how he was supposed to respond to all of this, then he was asked about having any friends.

"Friends? Hah. Señor... nadie te conoce cuando estás deprimido y fracasado." It probably wasn't helping anyone that he had decided to quote a favorite old song lyric in his native tongue to answer the question but... he also really didn't feel like answering that kind of question. Especially when the old merchant was right on the nose with how lost he had been all the years he'd been down in this hole.

Not having any holes in him was an odd point in his favor among the other half-encouraging noises Euclair was making about what he was capable of, none of which moved him.

What did move him - was when she finally turned the conversation back on him. Using her words to artistically shape a scene where if he went along with this nonsense... he might be free. He could play his guitar again. He could sing for beautiful women and fall in love and into bed with them again.

Damn... he had forgotten what it was like to be homesick.

Something deep in his soul stirred at long last and looked up at her in a new light, and then his eyes turned to the merchant. A small smile managed to twist his face at her last comment about getting the opportunity to dance on his grave. "Hah... well, what kind of man would I be to deny jou such honor?" He chuckled, finally setting his honestly disgusting moonshine on the counter and finally getting to his feet, staggering a moment with the effort and wrapping an arm around Euclair's waist for support as the liquor sloshed in his brain. "To hell with it. I'm in." He brought his free hand to his lips, two fingers pressing in against teeth and tongue as he gave a high pitched whistle - and immediately groaned slightly as the noise reverberated in his head. It was sufficient though. A large anaconda that had been sleeping peacefully in a corner undisturbed suddenly jerked awake and began undulating across the floor of the bar toward him, slipping up around his legs and torso until Angel drew the familiar into himself and caused his tattoos to shift and swirl.

Feeling more sober merged with his familiar, he let go of Euclair and followed the merchant into the tunnel - intrigued by the existence of this secret path he'd never known was even here before. He listened to the description of the plan. The potential gain. The very real potential for loss.

He sighed and rolled his shoulders. "There better be a damn good ballad written about my death." He grumbled.

Jet Monbon

 

[Jet]

The beast had been too focused on everyone besides Ava; its carelessness would cost in blood. Her sword cleaved its weakened leg and thick brackish fluids, turned black with foul corruptions, sprayed across the gunmetal floor. The creature spun around punching with wild abandon, elbows popped out with the sound of crunching bone, whipping its arms like snapped cords. The blows glanced Ava across her shoulders and chest, each was strong enough to leave yellow bruises. Yet the creature wasn't done. It leaned forwards and desperately shoved her away with its forearms.

But the momentum took it forwards. It took a heavy step on its bleeding shattered leg, snapping its ankle with a pained roar. It pushed itself up with one if its hands, screaming as spittle seeped from its mouth. It was a clear declaration of defiance, the beast wasn't done yet.

"No," it garbled through black cracking lips, fluids dribbled from its mouth in rusty orange lines, brown gums flashed in green emergency lighting. It pounded fists into the floor and ran forwards like a gorilla, using its arms to support its weight. It leaned forwards and shoulder bashed Ava in the center of her chest, sending her back across the room.

Johan watched in horror. He stumbled to Narzas and shook her shoulder, his face a mixture of fear and aggression. He snapped his head from Narzas to the beast and back again, managing a few words in between, "Wake up, it'll kill you, you can't—

The sound of thumping feet took his attention, and there it was before him, only a couple feet away. He tried dodging but instantaneously realized how futile it would be. There would be no escaping his punishment. He covered the side of his head with both arms, his elbow and forearm blocking the blow. Then it landed with the force of hammers hitting anvils. He was physically lifted from his feet and thrown across the room, almost unconscious despite the perfectly timed block. He bounced off the floor and slid back into a wall, knocking over another table. The creature bounded towards him but in the middle of its gait, the table landed and dumped utensils and plates onto the floor, filling the room with metallic clangs. The monster doubled over screeching like it was on fire.

This time, Johan understood what had happened, but the words were lost to him. He only managed a few faint mumbles before the monster moved towards Ren, attempting to put the final nail in the team's coffin. "Ren," Johan managed.

He drew his last knife, this one coated with reaper. He doubted the poison would do anything substantial to the beast, but maybe it would give his junior an opening. He pushed himself up onto his knees, blood leaked from every point upon his face, even his ears trickled red. He hazily focused on the monster and when it reared up to attack Ren, he flung the blade with the flicking of his wrist. It landed on the nape of the monster's neck, sending a wave of pain through its decayed nerves. The reaper virus was extraordinarily painful and sent waves of neural fire through its victim, and thankfully it did the same to this thing.

Johan looked down at the utensils dotting the ground, the shattered plates and tools. He blinked and with the strength remaining in him, he listlessly said, "Forks, spoons," before slumping back on the wall, just as Marjorie returned with her ringing voice. The sound was awful. Like a needle scratching across a window. He was surprised she could even reach such a pitch. He pressed a finger into his ear but the monster wasn't as dexterous. It spasmed at the sound like a fish flopping on the deck of a ship, pounding against its head like a madman. If there was ever a time for the others to finish this creature off, it was now when it suffered so greatly.

Huntertabbysandshark3 ZackStop rozukitsune

 

[Jet]

Between Macragge swamps and Elriel's mother, there were few places Zak hadn't been. However a whale was beyond even his experiences. He'd never been inside one and that was dissapointing in retrospect. They were spacious and warm with floors that felt like rubber, and he couldn't help bouncing on his toes to amuse himself. "I've been inside a whale before," he deadpanned. "All four of ya mums."

The words were matter of fact and straightforward, these were statements of truth. He was about to continue when tea was mentioned by a figure shrouded in darkness... in fact they were all shrouded in darkness. He couldn't see a damn thing. "I have some tinder," he said reaching into his pouch, only to find a sopping mass of twigs.

"Whale must've eaten it," he mused before the stranger spoke again.

"Forgive me," the stranger said, his lantern slowly glowing into life. There stood a fisherman wearing rubber boots, overalls and a wooden pipe hanging from his mouth. He extended a dish of four piping cups of tea, each one smelling of nettles.

"Nettle tea?" Zak echoed the question, but instead of being incredulous like his fellow survivors, he was positively intrigued. "Would be rude to refuse such an offer!"

He snatched a cup with the all the manners of a donkey, taking a long sip followed by an AHHHH.

"Good tea mate."

"Why thankyou!" said the stranger. "I've had many years to perfect my technique."

"Aye," Zak said. "You're a bit long n' the tooth."

"Long in experience!"

"Too trudy master of whales, this tea... mhmm." Zak took another sip, and for thirty seconds the pair spoke about nettle tea like it was the best invention since the wheel. Zak only stopped when the absurdity hit him like a rock, and suddenly he looked upon his friends with the same incredulity. "Tea aside you daft c***, mind tellin' us what we're doing in your whale? Answer Elriel's question damnit!"

The stranger cackled like a person wracked with fever, his voice cracking into a madman's giggle. "Who am I?"

His eyes grew wide. "I'm the sea! The ocean so deep and vast, swallowed your ship from beam to mast!"

"I'm the outbacker short and stout," Zak said. "Give me a blade I'll make you shout."

The stranger cackled and poured Zak another cup, and of course the young man obliged. It would be rude not to. The stranger walked past him and stood before the nobles, looking them up and down. "Wealth and riches enriches you not, crossed the oceans seeking your lot. Twin souls apart but drifted together, your time apart didn't break your tether."

He offered them both cups of Nettle tea, as any good host would, and awaited their answer with a crooked smile.

Emphoa Goliath ManofManyRoles

 

[rozukitsune]

Narzas roused to a jerking motion on the floor, her head swimming, her muscles aching. She saw Johan's terror for the barest of instants before he turned and tried to block the seeming force of nature that was their furry opponent before being hurled through the air to crunch against a far wall.

Her head buzzed as she watched him, breath caught in her chest as the horror of the situation refreshed itself. They were going to die. Die and become like the floating bodies they had come through just to get here. She couldn't focus on anything else for several moments as Johan struggled to retain his consciousness, bleeding from so much of his face she wondered if he was merely alive through sheer force of will.

It was only the Monster's screaming that roused her at last and she finally took a proper breath. An agonizing breath... but she thought she could still move. Much was sore and unhappy but she could move. She turned her head toward the battle as the monster started to recover from the noise when a new one shattered all of her preconceptions and expectations.


Marjorie had ... returned??? Even more astounding, she was helping?!?!?!?!?! Unfortunately there was no time to waste. The crazy Centurion or ... whatever it was she was - was giving them a fighting chance, but there was no way she could hold that note for forever.

Narzas turned her focus once more to the monster who writhed and bashed his own head into the floor. She sprang even as Marjorie crossed the room to join her and together they broke limbs askew and stabbed as much of the monster as they could reach.

Marjorie didn't seem to even have any weapons on her. She merely used what looked like considerable strength to snap knees backward and elbows upward - using the weak points of the being against it to make it harder for the thing to even move if it did find the strength to get up through her sustained note. She twirled and ducked and wove around the thing like a dancer, every move precise and every action seemingly ten steps ahead of the thrashing creature.

Narzas followed as best she could, injured and doing her best to ignore it. She slid dagger after dagger out of sleeves and hidden pouches, stabbing into feet and hands and doing what she could to stay out of arm's reach in the meantime, though she certainly got slugged (possibly by accident) as the creature thrashed beneath them.

She merely got back up and continued the onslaught, and then when she ran out of knives she dove for the silverware just as Marjorie finally had to take a breath. Picking the fallen pieces off the ground and dropping them over and over again to give Ren and Ava the chance to finish the thing off for good.

​

Jet Huntertabbysandshark3 ZackStop

 

[ZackStop]

​

Colorful language laced every inch of Spivey's mind as this was happening, cusses of every manor in several languages that they picked up over the years. But it was either this or back to square one. They needed a way out of this dump and these neanderthals may just have a way, or this was all a colossal waste of time and there was no way home. Of course maybe punching the grandson of some big shot raisin wasn't the best idea but it certainly felt good.

Despite the rage they felt within, Spivey maintained composure as the vine constricted every possible movement, successfully brushing off the pain and discomfort without so much as a grunt. Could have been thanks to the drunken state they had maintained up until this point or could simply be their conditioning in the white bitter wastelands called home. You could say being trained to kill at a young age had its perks. It's a shame really, they won't be able to show these backwards people just how good they are at it. Yet.

"Maybe it wasn't particularly obvious to you, lady, but our ship was torn in half. I didn't exactly have a chance to smuggle off copious amounts of alcohol." Not like she wouldn't find any. There was a flask or two, as well as the bottle they had with them. 'Copious' was subjective. Their voice crackled like bad radio reception as they took a deep breath. "Though that would have been ideal. Wonderful Grandson you have by the way, he's got a very punchable face!" It wasn't like this could get much worse in this moment since the Merc's fate was entirely out of their control. Might as well make wisecracks before being whisked away into oblivion.

"Great talk!" Was all they managed before getting thrown into their cage with an 'oof', and in the next few moments Spivey took the time to examine their surroundings. It was a cage, obviously. They stuck their head through as much as possible to see just how high up they were, and after that slumped back over to sit in this cramped space. They glanced around to see just what this thing was attached to and if they could swing it about and perhaps finding an escape. They took note of the thickness of these earthy bars, if they could be cut or even burned, blown apart with the right explosive. Thinking scientifically was a chore, but Spivey looked back to their studies for another way out. Despite being drunk, they wasted no time. And that's around when their focus was broken by a tomato splatting against their lens. They simply sat there for a moment before slowly pulling the slop away from their head and tossed it to the side.

"Now its time to make a choice." Spivey thought to themself. "Keep this big ass coat and mask on to avoid the insects..." They said, taking notes of the insects already accumulating around the rotted tomato. "or lose some layers to stave off this sweltering climate. Decisions decisions." They blasted cold air under the clothes to keep cool, but mana was a finite resource. They can only keep from sweating for so long even with their leatherback skin. Then of course came the biggest pest of them all, the oh so helpless dumbass; 'Hurricane.'

Spivey immediately turned their head to Huracan after his remark, simply stating matter-of-factly, "You're illiterate." before returning to their ponderings. There may come a time when they could settle things mono a mono but until then He was just an easily manageable annoyance. The Merc went on to remove one of their gloves revealing a tatted hand however discolored by their familiar, which gave sharp claws in place of fingernails. Slowly they sawed at the confines of their cell to eventually break free.

Jet Arcanist

 

[Jet]

​

There was no way to to guess what direction was the right one, no glowing lines or convenient drafts blowing down the halls, no journal from the skeleton of a dead explorer, and no whispers from the divine powers that abandoned them. The group explored this hallway and that hallway over there, and this other, brand new, sleek metal hallway like the ones before it. It was so bad that on more than one occasion, debates sprang about which hallway was which. Marigold swore that one was shorter than the others by three entire inches, and Bean argued that no, another one was actually narrower by two centimeters. That was a sign he said. Like it was funneling them to an exit.

Adrian assumed they were delusional but when they rounded a corner, he couldn't help but notice the differences. The floor was skewed downwards at a 179 degree tilt.

It was clearly a sign. He ushered them onwards and after winding through the maze for almost an hour, fighting their frustration and exhaustion, they rounded a corner and arrived at their old campsight.

Adrian noted the floor was now 181 degrees instead of 180, an earth shattering change but probably not relevant. They'd fallen prey to the pattern seeking portions of their brains, and wound up walking in a circle. Adrian huffed and took a long drink of water. The air was cool but the dryness parched his lips. His throat was raw and he noticed the others drinking from their waterskins. It would only take a day to exhaust their supply.

"Stupid way to die," he mumbled under his breath. "Whoever designed this place is a sadistic bast—"

Adrian stopped at the sound of rumbling far behind them, like a subway train was approaching a station. He narrowed his stance to minimize his target, pointing his shoulder in the direction of the rumbling. He felt the slow, serious beating of his heart. The intense bump bump that happened before a scrap. It wasn't fast but powerful, like his heart was punching inside his chest.

His instincts were screaming.

The rumbling grew more intense. The walls shook until they flickered like broken lightbulbs—

And then it rounded the corner.

"Really?" Adrian smiled in disbelief. This was a divine comedy and he was the punchline of the joke. The monster barreling towards them was the one monster he feared, with a thousand purple heads and snakelike bodies, intertwined like a ball of murderous noodles. The heads lunged forwards as it steamed at them like a freight train, and it was so big it created a perfect seal against the walls around it, with no space to avoid the heads.

It was the king of the underground world.
 
"A hydra," Adrian mumbled before looking at the others. "HYDRA!"

"Run!"

He pushed the nearest man in the opposite direction of the Hydra, corralling them away from the murder train. There was no point trying to fight the creature in these tunnels. It would regenerate unless the entire body was vaporized instantaneously, and even Bean lacked that power. Their only chance was to outrun the beast however they could.

Adrian fused with his falcon and wings sprouted from his back, the rest of him stayed the same as usual. With a gust he flapped forwards and bounded down the hallway, using his wings to run in long-jumping steps. He looked back at the others hoping they had tricks up their sleeves. Using magic for mobility was a pretty common thing to learn, and right now it would save their life.

Goliath Anne Boolean Arcanist

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
Interaction: Jet ZackStop rozukitsune​

ava smiled for a moment she'd broken the things leg a- ouch ouch ouch she was slapped and struck in the shoulder and chest leaving brusing across her body almost dropping her sword in the process god damn it! it was still moving having shoved her out of the way in the process, she slumped slightly against the wall as the monster barreled down on johan. striking at him multiple times.. seemed like they may be done for with the bulk of the creature and even its broken leg it wasn't gonna stop who knew how to? Marjorie suddenly returning interrupting her through with a scream ava dropping her sword to cover her ears. only to see it was affecting the monster far more it writhing around in pain.

she'd pull her massive blade off the ground once more, attempting to plunge it into the creature back and rip the blade out, only to stab it again then deciding screw it hacking at it would work just as well only focusing on it rather then anyone else attacking it screaming as she did so

 

[Goliath]

Elriel hadn’t let go of Adamaris, not once. Not when the whale swallowed them whole, not when Ivan was tossed like driftwood, and certainly not when the darkness pressed so thick around them it felt like they were breathing ink.

He listened as Ada also muttered about the nettle tea, their voice tight with disbelief. But their hand found his and Elriel interlaced their fingers in response. Steady. Present. Real, in a moment that felt anything but.

The ship had been shaking apart under them only moments ago. They’d been seconds from death, and now they were supposed to have a polite beverage with a stranger inside a beast? Elriel’s mind raced to rationalize it—maybe the pressure had killed them and this was purgatory. Maybe they were dreaming. But he looked at Adamaris, saw the worry laced behind their eyes, and chose to be grounded in what mattered.

He didn’t know what else to offer. There was no logic in any of this—only chaos, and the wet stink of whale gut, and… Zak.

Of course Zak was thriving.

He was bouncing on the floor, marveling at the rubbery texture like a child with new boots. He gave Zak a flat, unimpressed look in response to the insult to his mother. “You’re making jokes,” he said flatly, “inside a beast.”

For a split second, he thought Zak might be helpful as his own eyes struggled to adjust even fused with his familiar. Watching the man reach into his pouch with an actual thought—until he pulled out a handful of soggy twigs.

Elriel stared. “Of course it did.”

Then—light.

Dim at first, then growing, faintly golden and flickering like a dream. A man stepped forward through the dark, lantern in one hand, pipe in the other, and a tray of tea balanced with impossible calm.

Elriel felt his jaw tighten as Zak drank. Enthusiastically. Like they were at a bloody garden party. Their teammate chatting with the madman like they were old drinking partners.

Elriel watched in thin-lipped silence as they traded compliments on the nettle tea. Tea. Inside a monster. He glanced at Adamaris again, almost to confirm that yes, this was happening, and no, he hadn’t finally snapped.

“You really drank that?” Elriel muttered, eyeing the cup Zak was now slurping from.

But then Zak, in true form, pivoted mid-sip and barked at the stranger, demanding an answer to Elriel’s earlier question—though his version had more volume and a lot less tact.

The man seemed he would answer at first, repeating the question after his laughing fit, but nothing was that easy. Instead they were given riddles. And Zak, unphased, responded in kind. Elriel closed his eyes.

“Gods preserve me,” he muttered under his breath.

The man stepped forward, closer now. Toward them. Toward Adamaris. Elriel felt his fingers tighten against theirs again. The fisherman looking at them both, head tilting before saying too much. Riddles or not.

His clothes, fine and unmistakably tailored, still bore the hallmarks of his status even soaked. An observation. But the next line, “Twin souls apart but drifted together, Your time apart didn’t break your tether,” wasn’t just poetic. It was eerily accurate.

Elriel exchanged a glance with Adamaris once more then met the stranger’s crooked smile with a flat look before the man extended a cup of tea. Elriel stared at it. Then at the man. Then back at the tea. Etiquette, he thought. Protocol. Diplomacy in madness.

He took it—but didn’t drink.

“That’s a pretty rhyme,” Elriel said, voice cool as steel wanting the conversation off of him. “Now answer the question. Why are we here? What is this?”

He didn’t expect a straight answer. Not anymore.

But he asked anyway.

Because someone had to.

“Are you trying to say you swallowed our ship? Is the whale your familiar? Or do you control it?”

Mentioned: Jet (Zak), Emphoa (Adamaris)

 

[Fred Colon]

Kilderkin stopped as Renne stumble out of seemingly nowhere. She stopped short, assuming the others would halt their run as well.

"The others? Irina?" Kilderkin said, "Slow down. You're alright."

That was... bad, of course. Kilderkin didn't wish for any harm to come to the others. But they were looking for Irina and Rene suddenly appeared with her location? Or at least her last known location. She wouldn't be foolish enough to think they could bust in an take Irina prisoner, even with Kwame's help, but it sounded like the others were caught by surprise. Knowing where Irina was would hopefully prevent them from falling into that same situation.

Kilderkin got down on a knee.

"You got away." Kilderkin said, smiling. "Thats impressive. And good. We would never have known if not for you. Now, perhaps, we can do something to help them. Are you willing to lead us back to them?" Kilderkin stops, and looks at the others. "Assuming that's where we want to go, of course. Throwing ourselves headlong into danger that even Charlie and Zulan couldn't deal with is a risky proposition. We might want to come at this in a more... circumspect way. If we could rescue them, that would help us. But we also have a job to do... Irina seems to be, as our friend the knight said, at the center of all this.

Emphoa Jet rozukitsune ManofManyRoles EldridSmith

 

[ZackStop]

Ren frantically looked around, gripping at his hurt shoulder as his body was wracked with pain. It pulsed through his nervous system like a piercing needle leaving him frozen in place, unable to even muster a step let alone a leap away from danger. All he had going for him was height. He at the very least managed that before succumbing to this paralyzed state he was in. But no. That wasn't it. Sure it hurt, it hurt a lot, more than anything he ever felt before, second only to the loss of his Grandfather.

He gave up on finding anything in this room to get them out of this mess, instead he hung his head low, eyes low and let all those thoughts flow. He tried to push them away and pretend they weren't there, but they were. Lurking around in his conscious and finally taking center stage. The images of his Grand Dad flash over him, both the good and the bad until his final moments appeared. Not just him, all of them. The boy practically sees himself standing in a sea of bodies. It made him wonder how he's still standing and not on the floor with them, with his family. What little was left of it. Why now though? Why now do the thoughts of grief and sorrow come to haunt him when lives are at stake? When his life is at stake. Sitting there motionless as that monster could swipe right through him in the blink of an eye.

"I'm... afraid." He told himself. He didn't want to admit it. He couldn't bare to admit that after everything he had just gone through to get here. He wanted nothing more in life than this excitement of adventures, being the hero and slaying the monster. Never letting himself succumb to the fear. But now that he's face to face with a real monster, the reality becomes clear that this isn't one of his movies. Not the books he read as a child, not the fantasy he had imagined. He was in serious grave danger and had no one to call on. Not the Father who left him, the Mother he couldn't recall, His only real family left to die in rubble. The facade he built for himself to cope with everything he never had and everything that was taken broke down, along with his spirit to fight this thing. And to make matters worse, this was his fault.

As the beast stomped it's way towards him, Ren looked up and locked eyes with it only reaffirm what he was already thinking. He was in over his head. This was a job for a team of Centurions and he was just a kid. He gripped the key under his shirt. Believing this to be it. But in heroic fashion, Johan threw his blade in the nick of time, saving the boy and giving him an opening to put this whole thing to bed. Narzas, Ava and even Marjourie took part in the desperate brutality to end it. This was his chance. A chance to redeem himself and be the hero. To jump down, ignore the pain of his arm flailing behind him and plunge his blade into it's throat with a valiant war cry. That's where his mind went but his body... simply stayed behind. He just wasn't as fearless as he wanted to believe. He simply couldn't get back up on his feet. And to think a single blow was all it took to break his spirit.

Jet rozukitsune Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[EldridSmith]

Ivan put away his semechki as the whale seemed friendly enough and uninterested in them. Made sense. The fact the whale hadn't attacked and was merely observing them... gave Ivan a wave of relief, though having been slungshot onto the beast away from the ship... was still a concern but not the worst situation. At this point Ivan started to call out to not spook the creature but before he could he was shaken off. Honestly he wasn't mad, he was probably irritating on it's skin wearing armor which could be digging into it's skin. It was as he was staring at the water he was glad he always wore wool clothes which retained their warmth even when soaked... as he was going to be after this. Ivan was strong enough to swim with his armor, if he tired himself out he could stay afloat for a minute or two... at this point he began swimming with all his might towards the ship hoping the others could get him, but he wouldn't last long.

Things moved quickly however and he soon found himself being pulled in with a great current, which was both a great concern and a relief as he no longer needed to swim in his armor... until he was in the beasts mouth and water sloshed tossing him, as he came to from the impact he found himself laying in the back of the mouth furthest from the ship as the voice asking if he would like nettle tea sounded clearly from nearby. He heard murmurs from the ship responding to the man, but he couldn't hear what they said clearly considering the water in his ears. He took off his helmet and shook his head to get the water out. He stood up to see a light passing him swiftly, of which he followed to see the old man offering the others the aforementioned nettle tea. Ivan considered that if the man wanted them dead... they would likely be so... as he believed this creature was the man's familiar. At this he also took the tea, a warming bevrage would be good now considering the frigid waters were chilling even with his mammoth familiar's help. He followed Zak in thanking the man.

Zak was... typical Zak with his questions. The man was cryptic and likely a bit loony from being so far from other people for so long. At Elriel's 'God preserve me' Ivan picked up with his attunement to the subject he chuckled. "With faith he will until it is time to meet him." He say with a smile leaving it at that. The man continued to ask questions that held little meaning at this point. Ivan himself couldn't help but chuckle more thinking about a story in the Bible. "After three days the creature of the sea spat Jonah upon the shores of Nineveh, the very place he sought to avoid, even going against God's instruction. To be saved by a whale, perhaps we were going the wrong direction." Ivan offers his thoughts fairly plainly. "Either way I thank both you and the lord for your aid good sir." He says with a smile. "I must ask out of curiosity, is this creature your familiar?"
Jet Goliath Emphoa ManofManyRoles

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe

Mentions: ZackStop Jet

Abaranne proved once again she was a force to be reckoned with. Thrown around like a ragdoll, admonished and put out of the hut like some heretic, it reminded her of a festival they had back home. They always had some unlucky fellow play the fool, carted around, hung upside down, had things thrown at them. Spivey would have made an excellent fool during their festivals.

Spivey had their belongings of stashed alcohol repossessed and promptly put into a cell. The vines somehow looked sturdy for a makeshift cage, though, if they were capable of throwing someone like the mercenary around, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Brynwyr wasn’t when the village elder explained their old magic. She offered a polite smile, “Any wonder. I know better than to cross you or the old magic here.” The knight chuckled, half-joking. Not that she wanted to in the first instance, but the warning at least got through to her.

Spivey, though, even if they were being humiliated, again, another picture from back home, they still found a way to defy the warnings put in place by the village. She frowned, debating scolding them themselves, but found it might have been better to let them face the consequences of their actions. She turned to Abaranne once again.

“Again, please accept my apologies for my…comrade,” Brynwyr eventually settled on a neutral term, and motioned to her cousin, “some of us actually appreciate your hospitality.” Though, they did seek their help in return for that. Such things in life did not come free.

“Of course,” Rhys nodded and agreed quickly. “If there’s anything more we can do for you before we rest for the night, please let us know. It would be remiss of us not to give our thanks.” Especially after Spivey’s form of thanks.

 

[Tool]

The Hour of the Wolf

Anne Boolean Arcanist Goliath Jet


This..... was all very stupid.

This lead was stupid, this maze was stupid, Marble Murderer was stupid, and she was perhaps the stupidest one of all, clomping through the Labyrinthian and re-evaluating her life choices.

Everything hadn't been peaches and cream before that damned attack, but things sure as hellfire hadn't gotten any better afterwards. Even before she'd gotten hired for this job, something had felt off, a high, discordant note in an otherwise dramatic dirge that had spelled death for so many thousands. So, she'd taken the job. So, she'd followed lead after lead. So..... she'd ended up here, among the high, glowing walls. So, she'd been sniffing sterile metal hallways for hours, seemingly to no good end.

So, she was gonna die down here.

A sigh squeezed itself from the marrow of the woman's bones, and Madison only just stopped it from huffing past her lips. One never knew what might be listening in places like this. At an averagely average five foot five, Madison Cross had chestnut hair that didn't reach her shoulders, an exacting gaze, worn clothes, quality shoes, and a paranoid quantity of gear.

Muddy hazel eyes fluttered shut and Cross tipped her head back to put her nose more properly to the air.

Scent provided an entirely new dimension to the world, and only more so when sight was removed from the equation so she could concentrate. It was difficult to put into words just how much everything changed when bothersome light was removed and the unseen allowed to resolve into odorous clarity. The sensation bordered on the tactile.

Yup. She was still going the right way, still following her mark. She was still gonna die down here, but at least she'd find herself perished in the generally correct direction.

One had to have priorities, in life.

Moron. She was such a moron.

As she walked through yet another drab hallway, watching the walls move and waiting for..... left? Yeah, she needed to go left..... Madison couldn't help but wonder who the hell built this place?! Why? Who maintained the mechanisms that scoot-scoot-scooted the walls hither and yon? What the devil for? It was such an elaborate, beautifully crafted place beneath a hellhole that was, itself, beneath a shitty city, laminated in gold. And yet, nobody knew about the Labyrinthian, and those few that did knew it to be a death-trap. So..... what was keeping everything running? There wasn't any dust anywhere. If nothing else, who maintained the air systems?

Left. Go left.

Well-worn boots made a little crunch-scrape noise when she turned left and continued on. Focus on the job. Madison Cross had plenty of mysteries to solve without heaping 'why does the Labyrinthian exist and who really built it' onto her personal, mental pile.

Damned Games. Damned Mystery Marble Murderer. Was he an idiot? A madman? A tantalizing mixture of both? Or....... as Madison suspected, was there something very seriously wrong with this whole thing?

Whatever Marble Man's grudge with Nye might be, why attack the Games? Real easy way to get every country on the planet VERY interested in his whereabouts, and for precious little payoff. Why not go after the city's systems? Its actual army? Hell, its leaders? The Great and Powerful Vinny was still alive and very much kicking. Why attack an event that would kill loads of people but ultimately didn't cripple anybody? Worse, why did o'll Vinny think it was a grand idea to send the surviving contestants off to find the murderer?? Not professionals, not hired assassins, not investigators, not people who'd made it their life's work to find people that didn't want to be found, no, don't send those guys - send the surviving contestants. Some of them were young enough to not have a single ding on their souls, not one speck of dirt in their joints. Saints of Rust and Dust, a not insignificant number of them were teenagers.

Who the ever loving fuck thought it was a great idea to send teenagers to find a mass murdering terrorist? If Madison Cross was a moron now, she'd been infinitely stupider in her teens. It was one of the unshakable laws of the universe that teenagers were idiots. Yes, the terrorist had a super special marble and the remaining contestants had managed to not die....... but remarkably, the survivors and their ability to endure the marble didn't say anything about their success in finding Marble Man, much less continuing their survival streak during an encounter. Madison had made it her business to read everything she could find about the Games and their contestants, and those currently gallivanting around on the manhunt of the century skewed heavily towards the teen-to-mid-twenties crowd.

Youth and inexperience aside, even if these contestants were the best of the best of the best at gladiator-ing..... that didn't automatically give them the skillset they needed. It.... it just didn't. Not that Madison was one of the world's greatest detectives; she knew her limitations, and she was exactly as good an investigator as could be afforded, but she at least did some of this as a modest living.

Cross would be meat for the grinder in any professional combat arena, and these survivors were meat for the grinder here, in this situation.

They were being played.

Probably. Maybe.

O'll Vinny was sending the biggest celebrities in the world off to die, and making quite a show of it, too.

He was no fool.

So.... why?

Were Vincent and Marble Man working together? Was this some big gambit to show the other countries of the world how much better, how much safer their lives would be if only they submitted to Vinny's tender rulership?

Bend the knee. Be safe.

Madison wouldn't have been surprised...... but that only tracked if this wild gambit to catch Marble Guy paid off. Other options bubbled forth in the woman's mind to be re-evaluated and re-dismissed in turn. Marble Man might be looking to sell his marble to a rival country, using the demonstration at the Games as proof in the pudding. That notion fell apart pretty quick. If Marble Man and Vincent weren't working together, then why had the leader of Nye made such a wildly illogical choice in how to find and eliminate a legitimate, unknown threat? Who was pulling Marble Man's strings? And why the fucking games?

They were popular, widely celebrated, elite, but ultimately inconsequential. They didn't feed anybody. Didn't give or deny medicine to the sick. They didn't keep anybody safe and didn't remove anybody's safety, either. They didn't keep the lights on, the waters clean, the ships moving. They were a grand event that made an obscene amount of money for Nye and its wealthiest inhabitants, but..... they were a show.

Could this whole thing be a distraction?

What the devil was Vinny up to?

Speaking of distraction...... a host of unfamiliar scents abruptly accosted Madison's nose, and she sneezed. Twice. People. Living people. A very different smell than what she was expecting in these halls. Living people, soaked in fear...... and the unmistakable, bitter musk of snakes. The reek was heavy in the air.

Okay, great.

Stay on her mark or go and stick her stupid fucking nose where it didn't fucking belong?

Letting out a very disgruntled growl, Madison abandoned any pretense of stealth and began to run in earnest, following her nose down one passage after another. Eventually, her pounding boots spilled her out ahead of a group of panicking people, fleeing....... A thing. A thing with too many tentacles to easily track. It was big.

Really big.

It filled the hallway on all four sides and it moved like the hungry, hungry god of noodlekind.

Shock crossed the woman's face, chased away almost immediately by a flash of understanding. So that's how the hallways were kept so freakishly clean!

Unfortunately, her moment of eureka didn't stop people from being chased by The Hallway Cleaner, and both threatened and threat were rapidly looming larger.

Madison stopped dead and emotionally opened the part of her that kept her going, even in the bad times. Memories flickered behind her eyes, and the cold anger in her gut bloomed into freezing rage that Madison flung outwards from outstretched fingertips, not towards the Noodle God, but towards the walls themselves.

Noodles were not renowned for their traction. That, Madison reflected, was the reason long noodles weren't eaten with spoons. How well would noodle-arms do against slick, ice-covered surfaces on all sides?

Time would tell!

Definitely gonna die down here.

Great.

 

[Emphoa]

Adamaris wasn't certain whether or not they had finally gone mad with all the craziness of the world.

They were staring, baffled, at the scene before them s their mind tried to comprehend each and every thing that was playing out right in front of them. Their lips pressed firmly together as their brows furrowed and they felt Elriel's fingers interlace with their own. Their own hand subconsciously squeezing the hold, finding comfort in it more than anything else and relieved that they were here together like this. They didn't much know what to say when he approached them, and offered them tea. The mere concept baffling, did he make it from the sea water? From thin air? They couldn't quite put together what was going on.

Finally, they swallowed, took a breath and pulled themselves right back together as their eyes settled onto the odd man who claimed to be the sea. Elriel's voice ringing right beside them and with it they took comfort from that. Their eyes briefly glancing over onto Ivan before back onto the man.

"I know you are being bombarded with questions, but how is it that you know of us?" They finally asked, because how was it that he would speak such a rhyme that rang true for themself and Elriel? The thought brought a twist to their chest, and maybe this man had some... something worth looking into after all.

Although they hadn't quite taken a sip of their tea, merely held it within their hands without much of a move aside from that.

Goliath Jet EldridSmith ManofManyRoles

 

[Emphoa]

Eva was quiet, listening to the others in their discussions with furrowed brows as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her lips pressed firmly together as she narrowed her eyes, then glanced up ever so briefly when she was spoken to directly by Kilderkin, lifting her head up a mere moment after as she considered the idea. "... I would not mind going in to see how things have panned out for the others- risks or not, I believe it would be something worth looking into." She finally admitted with a gentle shake of her head, glancing back towards the other woman and Kwame.

She opened her mouth to speak again-

But then Eva's complete attention had been pulled away once Renne had re-entered the picture, her eyes flickering with shock and surprise as her gaze fell onto the red head. The very one they had just been briefly discussing, and she felt herself grow somewhat alarmed at her ragged state. Eyes hard as she watched her and let the girl speak up before they hounded her about whatever had come to pass. "Irina-?" she briefly spoke, then closed her mouth and pressed her lips tighter against one another. Her eyes flitting over to Kilderkin once more.

There was a lot to consider, and a lot of risks to think about, too. She paused, and her eyebrows furrowed while her mind reeled with all the possibilities.

"I think it would be best to take a safer approach, the last thing any of us would want would to be putting ourselves in a tough situation- the last escape had already been hard enough." She finally sighed out, shaking her head a little bit at the thought as she straightened up her posture. "Perhaps... we should try and scope the area, find out what the situation is before diving head first- I could still fly over the area to see what I might be able to see. Risky or not."

Fred Colon Jet rozukitsune

 

[Jet]

​

The monster was bathed in warmth from head to toe, like soaking in a bath after a long day of work. The feeling was accompanied by a buzzing that hummed around its head, like a lightbulb was running out of juice. The monster felt weak but it wasn't sure why? Why was the world turning gray and black? Why was every breath harder than the last one it took? What was this warm feeling the cloyed him like a blanet? The monster looked down at its chest. The feeling of warmth was very strong around its heart, a damp feeling of... what was the wetness?

The monster touched its chest and felt the sappy consistency of fresh blood, the dark red pouring from a dozen fresh stab wounds. It looked down at the mangled legs crumbling underneath it, causing it to collapse with a wet thump. The creature reached out and pulled itself like a zombie crawling from a grave, with the simple, single-minded desire to consume the young man before him. But when he reached out its hand to grab Ren by the face, a knife chopped away its fingers.

The monster blinked at the nubs where fingers used to be. It looked at the ruined mass of flesh where another arm once was. It looked at the trail of blood following where it crawled. The dripping blades held by his two assailants. With a wail the monster shuddered and bucked against the floor. It reached out at Marjorie and gurgled at the hulking Ava, they didn't need a translator to understand the meaning,

I will kill you in the next life

Its eyes rolled back and for a brief fleeting moment, the monster was a man once again. In the fluorescent lighting he saw the sun beaming above him. In the ceiling he saw the sky over his farm. In the face of Ren he saw his son.

And then he never saw again.

The life faded from his eyes and the room fell into an eerie silence. Johan stood and stumbled to one of the few unbroken chairs, slipping a cigarette from a silver case. He sparked the tip and took a drag so unbelievably long, it was a wonder there was any left afterwards. He opened his mouth to speak but chose the cigarette once again, and then a third time for the charm. He stared at the wall before checking his jaw for any fractures, and then checked his ribcage for the same. Johan could tell one was broken when pain lanced through his side.

"Hmm..." He mumbled to himself. His ribs were the smallest of his concerns at the moment. He checked the faces of each person to make sure they were still breathing, and thankfully, much to his relief, they would need doctors not morticians.

"Not dead yet," he breathlessly said. "I think—"

He tossed away his bloody scarf. "I think he liked me."

Johan weakly smiled and stole a glance at the hulking beast. It was clear that human experimentation was responsible for creating such a thing, and the reason was even more obvious. This was a facility for turning people into weapons, and he idly wondered if the girl they were sent to find — the one Damian wanted so keenly — was a weapon of even greater power than this one.

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