Day 1

[Dr. McNinja]

Dr. McNinja had literally been complaining all day. The complaining was permeating the area with negative energy, which was doubled down by the actual negative energy of the Unmaking. These negative energies (the whiny and entropic variants) exhausted Doc. And the more exhausted Doc was, the more he whined.

“And here’s another thing!” Doc near-shouted at the unresponsive heavens, “You dropped us… in the middle… of an Unmaking zone!”

Dr. McNinja kicked a bush nearby, which quickly disintegrated into ash and dust. The mountains around him were flush with incredibly green, incredibly fragile plants. Doc had found some pleasure kicking these plants around.

“Not only that, you put us near Markov! Markov!” Doc dropkicked a tree, sending it keeling over into dust. “What a great idea! Hey, a suggestion for the next Abyss - what about Chernobyl?!”

Dr. McNinja internally noted this would actually be quite fun to watch before karate-chopping another tree. This one turned out to be connected to some sort of ancient metal signpost, which creaked as it fell over.

“WHERE IS EVERYONE” Doc roared petulantly.

Doc noticed with some excitement the signpost. He’d fought with a signpost before. Well, he’d accidentally swung it at his prepubescent sidekick one time and missed. Ugh, better than nothing, Doc supposed.

“Now where are these supplies supposed to drop anyway- oh!” Doc noted his digital map with excitement. “Oh, I’m here! So it should drop…. Any minute now…”

 

[Kopaka]

"Get me a camera feed on Riddick." Kevin said, sipping a fresh mug of old coffee. He stood inside the endless screen-wall of the Syntech broadcast center, and watched the various live feeds of 'extreme hiking' coming in from around the warzone. At least, that's what the employee's pet name for Dante's Abyss was. Kevin, ever the professional, was trying to crack down on it this year.

The camera drone pilot for contestant number ten swallowed nervously and looked up from his panel.

"I...I'm trying sir but he keeps taking them down." Syntech Marvin whined. Kevin's face drew into a grim line and he stepped down into the drone pit, where all the camera operators tirelessly kept their video drones pointed at the contestants. Sometimes multiple cameras would be devoted to one contestant, or group, in case Daddy Karl decided they needs multiple angles for the final cut.

Marvin stood up automatically from his chair as the Senior Intern approached, sweating visibly.

"See? He's got himself shacked up inside the Markovian Fort in like...I dunno...like his personal den. Every time we send a camera in there, he finds some new way of cutting it." Marvin swallowed. Kevin sat down and squinted at the monitor as Marvin gestured to a doorway on the screen.

"I currently have it hovering just outside. He should be in there somewhere, but-"

"I get it, I get it." Kevin snapped. He took the control pad -- a Techstation 5 controller, at Karl's insistence -- and peaked the drone around the corner of the bunk room. There was no one inside.

"No way. No way! He should be in there somewhere, I know that much!" Marvin blubbered. Kevin shushed him, and eased the drone into the room. It's video feed swept the corners, when suddenly, the camera angle shook violently. Someone had grabbed the tiny robot from behind. A brief image of Riddick's flashing eyes and passe face appeared on the monitor for a brief moment before the broadcast lost connection.

Kevin sat there for a moment, and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Lemme talk to Karl about it..."

...

Riddick dropped the sparking carcass of the camera drone to the floor, on top of the growing pile that he had started to collect. They would send another in a few minutes, some new configuration or even smaller model they think he wouldn't notice. But he would, and eventually, he would get tired of being stared at again.

For now though, Riddick eased himself back onto the mattress and let his eyes rest.

Yeah yeah Karl. I get it.

Better start making some good TV soon, or my neck is on the line. I know the score here.

But you wouldn't expect a wolf to go hunting during the day, would you? I ain't in a hurry to make a spectacle, and I'm here to win. Let the desperate and stranded fish figure out the food chain for a few more hours. I'll show them who's on top when it's sundown. Keep your viewing numbers high during the late night show.

Til then, I ain't bothered.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Gascoigne stood panting among the wrecked bodies of mechanized beasts and rubble alike, the sound of sparking and sizzling components ringing in his ears as he came down from his predator’s high.

Dark, reflective patches of slick fluid splattered across the area around him, seeping through the cracks in the rusty metal of the ship’s floor in a disgusting mixture of crimson and black… gore and oil alike flowing in excessive amounts over the ground. Much of it was from his own wounds, so much that it was a marvel that he even managed to remain standing. He almost wished for the cold embrace of unconsciousness, for the sweet stench of blood hung thick and heady in the air, equally as intoxicating as it was repulsive to his senses.

Awareness crept back in slowly, the sickening thrill coursing through his veins slackening its hold on him at last. The hunter braced an arm against the cold metal of the strange craft's hull, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fought to ignore the sound of his own blood drumming in his ears. His fingers traced the edges of the surface as they curled into the shape of wicked claws, elongated fingernails inching into the metal with a high-pitched creaaaacckk.

Fingers trembling, his other hand grazed the tight band of metal wrapped around his throat, the collar seeming to enclose his windpipe in a vice, strangling him.

“Can’t let myself get too carried away, now,” the hunter grit out, his tongue scraping like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth, voice echoing strangely off from the wreck's walls. He swallowed with great difficulty, a rough, scratchy-sounding chuckle slipping past his lips. “Even if I am to be collared like a beast, I must not become like one…”

After taking another long, lingering moment to regain his faculties, Gascoigne was finally able to stand unassisted by the ship wall. His blindfolded gaze turned to regard the tattered ruins around him, lips curling into a displeased frown as the golden light of daybreak began to pierce through the murky cloud cover, the brilliant glow casting the entire landscape in sharp relief.

The area was not much improved by the light of day. An immense sense of desolation was practically tangible in the air, the remnants of an ancient battlefield stretching out for miles in all directions, emptied and soiled with old blood. From afar, he could see the jagged shapes of a range of mountains, tinted with mist and covered in lush green jungle.

Nodding shortly to himself, Gascoigne decided that he would forge a path in that direction. As much as he enjoyed skulking around out in the open where any enemies might appear to harangue him, the hunter imagined that he would much rather stalk his prey with the cover of trees to leverage his advantage— not because he feared an attack, mind, but because he longed for the thrill of the chase.

Even as he turned to begin his trek in that direction, a glimmer of something among the shadowy wreckage of the ship caught his eye. Brows lowering in consternation, the silver-haired hunter picked through the carcasses strewn in front of him, his boots crunching over the various pieces of zoid body parts littered across the ground.

He stooped down, his considerable height making it a particularly comical feat. Nudging aside a few chunks of unidentifiable debris, he reached inside to take his prize, bandage-wrapped fingers wrapping around something that was… curiously warm.

The object settled against the palm of his hand, seeming to faintly hum as his fingers wrapped around its curved shape. Turning the small piece of ornate silver metal over in his hand, Gascoigne noted that his fingers had naturally fallen into the little divots impressed into the object’s design, almost as if it was some sort of hilt.

Hmm-ing in consideration, Gascoigne studied the hilt-like object a bit more closely, really feeling the weight of it in his palms. His fingers traced the hilt, fingernails lightly catching on the raised pattern covering the metal. It reminded him of his own trick weapon, almost— so much so, in fact, that he began to feel across the object’s surface with greater intent, searching. Perhaps there was some hidden catch…?

Vmmm! Gascoigne reeled back in surprise as two electric-blue arcs of energy burst into existence from either side of the hilt, the humming blades of light curving alongside the edge of his knuckles.

Slowly, Gascoigne grinned, his face illuminated in blue by the light of the glowing plasma blades. Oh, but this would do quite nicely…

 

[Anders Nazret]

How ridiculous. To think that a royal Arcadian swordmage would be forced into retreat by a teenager with absurd hair. Anders swore bitterly as he touched the fresh scrapes along his cheekbone. Cevanti’s sun had begun to rise, casting harsh angular shadows across the landscape. How many of his fellow contestants had faced similar embarrassments? His mind drifted to Jester’s phallitic doodles and decided that his adversaries probably lacked sufficient pride to feel the sting of embarrassment.

While he caught his breath and licked his wounds he watched the world around him be revealed. Daylight washed over the land and from his mountainside perch he could see it all. The unmade had already begun infecting this land. Kolith’s guardian had warned him of their apparent danger, but Anders couldn’t help but view them as little more than insects. Animals, driven only by instinct. They were gnawing at the bones of an already dead world, salivating as if they had been given some grand meal. Darkseid was a fool to utilize such mindless automatons, no wonder he had failed to conquer more than Governmore.

“Power is wasted on fools,” Anders muttered, spitefully chewing through a chunk of pemmican.

Given that sort of power he would have put it to much better use than digesting a tomb world. He would erase Arcadia from existence, incinerating its sordid history until nothing remained. No more and no less. Daydreaming of power was a waste of effort, he finally decided. Soon, with the Abyss under his belt, he’d need not daydream of power for it would be firmly within his grasp. And, Arcadia would be aged by a day for every one of its sins until nothing but dust remained.

Belly full and resolve honed, Anders stood and marched further into the unmade wasteland. Teenagers with bad haircuts, juvenile devil-horned women, and brain-dead beasts would stand no chance against him. He was cosmic righteousness given mortal form, and he was grateful for the opportunity to prove it. Cevanti would just be another log on Arcadia's funeral pyre.

 

[Aster]

"Mmm....place has kinda gone shitty..." Aster murmured as she sat on a hunk of rock near to what she was sure at one time might have been a very scenic spot, what with the water (which was probably some inlet of ocean or a once-huge lake or something) and everything. It still afforded a nice enough view, if you were into "corruption and decay of all living things as seen under the morning sun", too.

Personally, though, Aster wasn't much for that stuff.

One arm was loosely wrapped around her weapon, her hand supporting the tablet they'd been given while her opposite arm tapped away at it. "Least we got some sense of technology. Map is helpful." She was constantly glancing down at the map and up at her surroundings to try and make sure she knew what was what and where she was. "So if I'm here, then those two places Karl mentioned would be...." She furrowed her brow momentarily in focus. "...here aaaaand....here." She paused to take a long drink of water, and gnaw on some crackers from one of the rations in her bag.

"One of 'em isn't too far. Maybe I could..." She considered, tilting her head back to look up at the sky. "....maybe I shouldn't. No tellin' who else is also not too far from 'em and is gonna go stomping in all 'ARGH' and blood and thunder." She just shook her head. "Wouldn't wanna run into the wrong side of Grease-spoon, even durin' the day. Or Sigmund." She chuckled, stowing away the rest of her supplies as she hopped up. "Ooooor really most of the others I saw in the barracks. Most of 'em looked like the 'tear you apart first, ask questions later' sort."

Shouldering her bag again, the wolf-girl took a long look at her surroundings. "Now, question is, which way to go... Can't go into the water, there be dragons out there. No sense really goin' back the way I came. So..." She paused, looking off into the distance. "Huh...mountains? Yeah, sure, mountains." And snatching up her weapon, she briskly jogged off, hopping and scrambling down from her elevated perch as she went on her way.

"Man I hope if I run into anybody I spot them before they spot me..."

 

[Demetri Malius]

“Well, they say that Karl Jak has a sense of humor, if nothing else. Suppose he must have taken me for a gambling man…” The thief held the deck of cards in his hands and ran his thumb along them, popping open the paper casing, finding that the sudden flick shot out one of the cards along with it.

He caught it in his hands and stared down at the card, giving a bit of a smirk. “Ah, one of these decks. Nine of Pentacles… reversed?” Demetri tapped the card on his cheek and thought for a moment.

“I see, casting my doubts back at me,” he cast his question aloud. His lips spread into a sleek smile. “I can get by with a little bad luck.” He lifted the paper carton off the rest of the deck and nimbly shuffled the cards, a bit of the playing skills he practiced with when tossing his coin around in the Karim Underground. He had tested his capabilities with the collar on, and it seemed that only his illusion was able to be brought with him. His shadow magic had no effect here.

The thief’s eyes unfocused from the item he had received to bargain with, and looked at his surroundings. Karl was spot on about the corruption. The multiple layers of tracks and scraps along showed that there had been heavy traffic in this area at some point. In the remnants of battle, there were always slim pickings to be had, but in this case, any spare metal or blades would be welcome in these games. Keeping the cards tucked on his person, the thief strolled about to investigate.

He was dressed in his blackened leathers, with a cloth hooded garment to match. Plenty of pockets and places to hide things. Had he less of an ego after their most recent job, he might have tightened his lips about his identity. However, he was not concerned with any of that. His normally masked face was open for any to see, cameras or not. In fact, he had hoped that his little displays were open for all to see. He was sure to keep whatever audience he had guessing. After all, the cameras would be able to see nothing of what he was doing unless he so wished.

For now, he followed the remnants of war.


*****

“Not a single blade? All that remains is tattered cloth and scorched earth. Corrupted scorched earth at that.”

Demetri huffed about his hours of wasted effort. Sweat poured off of his brow from the beating sun, being in the open field was starting to make him a bit nervous.

“Alright, time for a bit of faith then.”

The deck shuffled between his hands as he plucked them from a random pocket of his, making a flourish of a display before pulling a single card.

“And this time, Seven of Pentacles, reversed.” There was a nod of his head followed by a sigh. Before he could speak, his collar spoke up, “…you’re going to want to update those maps… the following zones will be completely unmade within the next six hours.”

“Well, I suppose you do give good advice, at the very least. Those supplies are quite a bit off, and we don’t want to get ourselves in any messes just yet. Though I do have one more question, how do you think we should proceed with the others, my multi-faceted companion?”

He drew another card.

“Star, and it’s reversed again. You sure like tantalizing me.” He rolled his eyes.

“Even if it is just to tell me trust my instinct. And here I thought you might offer me something else. Guess it's too early to ask for advice. You’ll have your use later.”

With that, he took to jogging along the terrain, scanning the horizon as he passed by blotches of corruption and patches of death. It would be a shame to stay around too long and get caught in the unmaking. The thief did have to admit, the things made his skin crawl.

Though he had just barely made the sign-ups in time and was forced to forego the introductions to any others, he felt confident that he would settle along them just fine. Perhaps take a few out in the process, if it seemed necessary.

Woe to those caught in their shadow.

 

[Ganondorf]

Kolith stared ahead as he trudged through the Cevanti wilds. He could still taste Christine’s fist in his mouth. The steel rod that belched fire remained clasped in one hand as he focused on every sense except his sight. Something was bothering him about their current arrangement.

There had been a moment where the both of them could have killed each other – Christine with a smoke formed fist inside his mouth, Kolith with the fire blaster snugly tucked against her ribs. Yet neither of them took the initiative. He searched for the answer, for both of them – he didn’t know her, but he couldn’t unveil his own motives either.

Despite that uncertainty, they had formed a bizarre partnership, travelling together. Kolith felt himself on edge, constantly expecting the woman to funnel another smoke appendage into one of his orifices and kill him before he could react. She didn’t seem to experience the same apprehension as she strode by his side calmly.

A sudden crack sent a jolt through Kolith’s nerves.

He spun and levelled the weapon at the source of the sound, falling onto one knee. Christine looked at him with amusement, the barrel aimed squarely at her. A small twig lay snapped beneath her foot.

“My my, aren’t we jumpy?” she said with a wry smile.

Kolith let his icy glare linger before standing. “It pays to be jumpy in a setting like this.”

Christine gestured forward with a smooth movement of her arm. “After you, mon ami.”

Kolith grunted. What was her angle?

“Fuck it,” he said out of the blue. “Why didn’t you kill me before?”

Christine seemed surprised at Kolith’s frank question, yet also found delight in it. “Such determination to know the truth, social conventions be damned, eh?”

“Answer me.”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Kolith looked away and began walking. Christine matched his pace.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe because pulling the trigger would have killed me too. I’m sure you would have taken me down with you.”

Christine bobbed her head. “Probably.”

“You also didn’t attack me with your weapon,” Kolith added. “Which means you either don’t have one, or you didn’t think you needed it to fight me. Either way, I know too little about you.”

She sighed wistfully. “Insightful. You know, I think you deserve to know why I didn’t finish you off as well.”

Kolith shot a sideways glance at Christine.

“I’m a cold blooded killer, it’s true,” she said, “but I’ve met someone that’s making me second guess myself. Someone I want to be... better for. I don’t know. This is new to me.” She laughed. “Bad time to develop attachments, n’est-ce pas?”

Kolith nodded as if he understood the unusual phrase at the end of her sentence.

“And I mean, to find someone as thoroughly complex as you... there’s no harm in forming alliances. At the least, you might provide a good shield in case we’re set upon.” Christine smiled.

That strategy had crossed my mind as well, Kolith thought to himself.

Kolith considered speaking with the Elder Spirits. Their guidance had been instrumental in forming his spiritual growth. Yet before the official commencement of this tournament, Rokku had appeared and warned him that while he could still channel them and use their gifts, they would not provide counsel. Kolith had to do this on his own.

And so he was, as he continued on his path, despite his company.

A bird made entirely of metal flitted onto a tree branch nearby. Its blue eye studied him intently.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Sigmund gazed ahead of him absent-mindledly, his empty eyes slightly glazed over as he made his way through the wastes of Cevanti’s dead zone. He supposed that it was lucky that he hadn’t been ambushed by some unmade monstrosity or mechanical beast, but at this rate he would have welcomed such a disturbance. The priest would never have guessed that it would be so incredibly boring in the middle of a corrupted wasteland.

The scion briefly considered taking a break to pull Mirage out of his bag and play with the action figure for a few minutes, just to relieve his crushing boredom, but he wasn’t that desperate. Not yet, anyways. Besides, the cultist was rather unconvinced by the craftsmanship of the toy, and he preferred to not get too attached to something that very well might shatter into pieces the first time he smashed it over someone’s skull.

Sigmund’s train of thought was quickly derailed as a shape exploded from the nearby foliage, surging towards him with bestial ferocity. A blade of plasma flashed towards his throat, stopping mere millimeters away from deftly decapitating the hapless scholar. To his credit, the cultist didn’t even flinch, instead giving a cheerful smile to his assailant, waving casually at the familiar face.

“Ah, Father Gascoigne!” Sigmund said happily. “I was hoping I would see you here. Fate is a funny thing, is it not?”

“You should be more careful.” The hunter grunted, tough but not unfriendly. “With that scent on you, I thought you were another beast that needed hunting. If I hadn’t recognised it, that head of yours would be rolling on the ground right about now.”

“Haha, yes, yes it would have been. I wouldn’t have stood a chance against that blade of yours.” The cultist laughed as he peered curiously at the older priest’s weapon. It reminded him quite a bit of his father's psionic swords, which would have very much come in handy in his current predicament. Sadly, conjuring psi-blades was something that he could never quite wrap his head around.

“It’s no trick weapon, but it will serve its purpose well enough. Sometimes you can’t be picky when you’re on the hunt.” Gascoigne said, letting out a low, menacing cackle of his own as he deactivated his weapon. Turning to the younger man, the hunter studied him for a long moment, contemplation crossing his bandaged visage. After a long silence, he seemed to make up his mind and gave a slightly reluctant grin to the other priest. “So, my young hunter, what tools of the hunt have you been gifted?”

“Ah… about that.” Sigmund sighed, his mood visibly deflating as he reached into his duffel bag and retrieved Mirage. The hunter peered closer, trying to figure out what exactly the cultist was trying to show him, its scent giving him little clue to what the object was.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to elaborate on what exactly that is.”

“Erm… his name is Mirage.”

“His… keep elaborating.”

“Well, it’s a small toy modeled after a man named Mirage who, to my understanding, Karl Jak absolutely despises.”

“Is that supposed to kill someone?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Sigmund sighed. To his surprise, Gascoigne gave him a sympathetic murmur, apparently unsatisfied with something that he had been assigned as well. The cultist was unsure exactly what he was referring to, the father seemed perfectly satisfied with his blade just moments before, but didn’t press the issue.

“Well, what’s brought you this way then? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that this corrupted land isn’t safe at the best of times. Going around without a weapon is suicide.”

“Well, certainly, you have a point, but I find it terribly exciting.” The scion cackled, a dangerous glint in his eyes that went unnoticed by the blind huntsman. “I came here for chaos and bloodshed, and I’m hardly about to let something as small as a lack of a weapon hold me back. Besides, I’m not truly defenseless.”

“Hmph. Dedicated enough to the hunt that you would take to it with your bare hands. I suppose I can respect that.” Gascoigne returned Sigmund’s laughter, matching and then exceeding his in its unsettling tone. “Well, you proved yourself well enough in that dream world. I suppose I shall take your word for it, though I’m still half-tempted to call you mad.”

“Haha, I get that a lot!”

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara Dreemurr had many weaknesses, and pretty men, and pretty women, were at the top of her list. It was why she had agreed to go on this journey with Rogue so very quickly. The southern beauty was a sight to behold, a siren to the ear, a pair of eyes one could get lost in.

Chara Dreemurr had a linked weakness to having her heart broken, and it had certainly happened enough that she was used to it, but it always disappointed her how such beautiful eyes often held…

Well, Chara had seen that glint of enthusiasm, of greed, from Rogue’s eyes. It seemed almost childish, interested, enthusiastic. The Elder Dreemurr had at least conceal her weapon from her interested compatriot, but that had not seemed to dampen her enthusiasm in the slightest. She had wanted something from Chara, and clearly, she had gotten it.

And yet, that was all she had seen from the woman. No obvious malice, no accomplished ability to lie and deceive - she had hit a brick wall fairly quickly against Chara’s more experienced hand in the conversation - and no obvious tells that her pretty Rogue was anything more than a girl here for the fun of it. It was… innocence, in it’s own way. Not born of childlike purity, but of a soul just put together with all the right stuff.

And yet, she wanted something from Chara, especially once she saw her powers, and she had to admit it hurt just a little that she had walked away from Riddick, one of the men hiding compassion here to navigate a dangerous and unknown wilderness with someone hiding a more selfish ambition.

Chara exhaled. Had she truly slipped here, or was she simply grumpy from her callous reminder of Darkseid’s iron grip on the area? She could not fully separate those feelings out, remembering Nausicaa and Markov.

Well, if she was uncertain of Rogue… a few questions would suffice.

“So, I have shown you mine.” Chara added, quietly omitting that a few tricks of hers still laid very well hidden, and that an extra trinket special for the games was hidden in her pockets. “How about you, miss?”

“Oh, y’all don’t wanna hear about that-” Rogue deflected, and Chara leaned in with a grin as she said that.

“Ya know? You’re totally right.” Chara would add, giving a soft hum as she looked the southern belle up and down. “How about you tell me about something… else~”

Rogue just gave a slightly nervous smile, caught off-guard by the comment, but just happy to avoid the question. “Sure thing, Sugah.”

“Tell me - what is your plan for when this is over for you?” Chara would ask smoothly.

“Ah-over?” Rogue would reply. “Are you askin’ me out on a date?”

Chara would quirk her head. “...I should’ve really thought of that as a date thing. I am not going to say no, but I was more thinking - for the likely case we lose. You know, die. Cease functioning.” She would add.

Rogue was confident enough to give a grin. “What, already givin up, sugah?” She would taunt, though her stance was not quite as confident as before.

Chara just gave a sideways glance, and a smirk. “Most people that come to the Abyss die. Most people who fought the Unmaking die. I have seen more than enough people come and go that could certainly outdo me-”
at least, weakened as I am after Opealon

“Violently expire. You never do see human beings in the same way after you have seen them in several pieces. At least, I have not. But I hear Syntech does revives - did you pay for one?”

“Did you?” Rogue snapped back, though the anger did not seem particularly directed now. Frustration, annoyance, perhaps an irritation at being slighted, or a feeling of being made fun of. Regardless of the surface, it spoke to something else beneath, thinking beneath that veneer of emotion that created discomfort. “Or are ya just more sure of yerself than you are o’ me?”

“Oh, I have my plan covered.” Chara replied. “I’ll… probably come back. But no, I am expecting to die…” Chara paused, as though calculating something in her head, before throwing a flippant hand into the air. “Soon-ish. Honestly, with the unmade, I think it is quite possible we are all about to kick the bucket.” Chara would reply, stretching as she spoke like she was discussing the weather. “Nothing actually stopping the doomsday mech from coming here to squish us all flat. Or sing Darkseid’s tune for the rest of our unmade lives. After getting the sampler? I would recommend popping the collar before he gets a chance.” Chara volunteered, her voice filled with a level of unfitting levity that did nothing to undercut the content of the words.

Rogue gave the kid a look like she had just met her for the first time, regarding the words. Chara just gave a light-hearted shrug.

“Never wanted to be here.” She admitted after a moment. “Still do not. But I think one more pair of hands trying to end this with as few heads rolling as possible is worth sticking around for.”

Rogue gave her a look. “...Ah might not’ve thought quite that far ahead.” She admitted after a second or two. “So ah guess, unlike you, ah have to actually work to survive.”

The Youth scratched behind her ear. “Well, you are only the second tough dude slash dudette that has come through here giving me that story…” Chara admonished. “And there are likely many more. The goblin child, for one.”

“Wait, they let a kid in heah?!” Rogue asked with disbelief.

“Yeah, Karl Jak is fantastic at making sure his ‘deadliest warriors’ battles have a strong filter on them. ” Chara replied with a roll of her eyes, before taking off her glasses. “I believe he is somewhere between five and seven. And stranded in Cevanti’s wilderness.”

A sigh echoed from the girl. “I believe everyone here has technically consented, but do understand, your choices here will have consequences. Even a few broken bones may lead to someone getting maimed, killed, eaten or unmade soon afterwards. I would not recommend you to avoid defending yourself, but…”

Chara gave a sideways glance at the area around them, a twisted field of underbrush and trees on sickly soil. “You never forget the first grave you dig, ya know? Make sure it is one you can live with remembering.”

Chara gave an exaggerated yawn, before continuing. “Or… maybe you have already dug plenty, and I simply do not understand your mighty, hardened exterior. What do I know, really?”

Rogue’s response was to roll her eyes. “In case you forgot how the event works this year, sugah.” The woman responded. “We’re all on the same side this year.”

Chara gave a smirk at that. “Ohh, definitely not.”

“Plannin’ on bein’ a turncoat?”

“More llke, I already earned a stalker who’s promised me she is going to violently, and painfully kill me here. And she keeps promises.” Chara would reply with a nervous smirk, remembering Lilith. “And just because I’m her main squeeze this year does not mean she will not attack others with the same level of vitriol. She came to kill people.”

Rogue looked her up and down at the statement, the thoughts registering. “Ya don’t seem too concerned about it.”

“Hey, even if I do chase skirts, I know my luck.” Chara replied with a pointed smile. “There is only so many times you can cry about the fact the pretty woman is never just interested in a kiss behind the bleachers.” She added, putting her sunglasses back on. “Regardless…”

She looked to Rogue with a smile. “Despite that beautiful figure, that gorgeous hair, and that exquisite fashion you carry yourself with,” Chara replied, looking the girl up and down with a casual grin. “...That hopeful, enthusiastic glint in your eyes is the prettiest thing about you. It is radiant, shining, and absolutely worth protecting. If there’s anything I can say or do to keep that from fading by the end of this, even if it costs me a chance at a date…”

Chara’s smile faded slightly as she continued, so she turned from Rogue’s eyes and looked straight ahead into the corrupted forest around them. “Then, I might actually get to die happy for once.”

 

[Karl Jak]

Afternoon
(1200-1800)​

“Hello out there! I’m sooo enthralled that you’re all still alive, so I want you all to listen up to these zones that we forecast will fall to complete and total unmade corruption in the next six hours:

“N4
I7
E8
A2
A7
H1
B8
J5
K7.”

Clearing his throat, Karl scrolled through his own personal feed to check his own information.

“Okay, the next order of business is that we’re sending an Easter Egg capsule down to the surface of the World. It will land in the battlefield on square E4, but so long as you press your fob, you should be able to temporarily translocate to that position to try and claim the device. Good luck! I know it may seem like I’m crazy when I’m saying this, but you’re going to want to get the Karot.

“In other news, we’ve had reports of something at M5, near the border between the two zones of this region. I can’t promise you that it will be easy, but if some of you can kill this thing, you’ll likely find supplies and be able to prevent the spread of the unmaking in this part of the planet.

“Lastly, we’ll be dropping the third quest item just after midnight on Day 2. Mark your maps, that spot will be F5.

***​

For the Easter Egg, you just send me a PM that you’re committing to the event. You DO NOT need to travel to the square. There are no take-backs. Please make sure you specify any allies you plan to have, any focus, consumables, or other fancy things you’d like to ‘queue’ up for the fight. The prize will go to one individual.

For the Boss Battle, it’s a strong NPC that, when defeated, will yield gear (and also prevent another part of the map from turning red/unmade, for what it’s worth). You DO HAVE TO travel to the square to participate. Because everyone is present at the square, you all have to sort out who gets the prize.

 

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#01 Slurt & #11 Jester vs #13 Toga​

“Look, Jestaw!”

Slurt jogged ahead, his tiny little hands pointing to the equally small puffs of smoke wafting up from the ground ahead of them. “It’s stiww dere!”

“Wait, Slurt, we shouldn’t rush ahead!” Jester shouted as the tiefling jogged to try and catch up with her diminutive companion.

Eyes wide with childish curiosity, Slurt slid to his knees just next to the capsule and put one of his hands on the surface as he looked for some type of button or latch.

Instead, he heard a mechanical whirr moments before the drill bit plunged down through the center of his palm and into the capsule’s shell with a wet screeching of steel and stringy flesh. Still experiencing the open stages of shock, Slurt felt a shadow fall over him as his vision started to drift in an out of focus.

“Oops,” a distinctly adolescent voice intoned as the drill came wrenching out of Slurt’s hand.

The goblin, more out of shock than anything else, slumped forward as he lost consciousness.

Toga, wearing a satisfied sneer on her visage, went for the capsule when she heard the gunshot. She managed to look up just in time before the mana-infused bullet crashed into her right shoulder and erupted in a dazzling burst of fire and electricity.

By the time Jester had rushed over to ensure that Slurt wasn’t critically injured, Toga had already vanished.

Spoiler

Toga has used 1 application of Focus

Jester has Caster
Toga has the Power Drill

Slurt has a puncture wound through his hand (Minor Wound)
Toga has burns over her right arm, rendering it a bit difficult to use (Minor Wound)

Slurt and Jester claim Quest Item 2

 

[Karl Jak]

Misc. Updates:

Dr. Caustic wins Quest Item 1 (Uncontested)

The following characters are present at the C4 Safehouse/Bunker: Deadpool, Nico Cinder, Riddick, Sgt Swift

 

[Lilith]

Lilith walked perfectly perpendicular to the steep incline leading up to the mountains. Such a great ability, seriously. Simple yet practical. How could she ever live without it?

Just her and her power. All to herself. Nobody to share it with.

Ugh.

This was always the most boring part of these events, aimlessly moving with no goal or destination in mind. She already pictured the climax of her performance, coveting Chara's last moments before piercing inside their core. But what to do in the meantime? She had one sole objective, and aiding others in survival was not part of it. Then again, snagging the valuables would give her the upper hand later…

As Lilith trekked into the hills overlaid by dense jungle, the light of dawn trickled between the colossal trees and plant growths. For once she was glad to see it, though still complained about the overbearing brightness and disorienting darkness.

With nothing better to do, she counted her belongings once again. She wanted to toss the MREs, but instincts said otherwise. Could use them for a trap, if someone was desperate enough. It's not much better than starving.

The collar completely fried her supernatural senses, but she could ascertain that the Unmade vibes were different here. Darkseid's influence was more… subtle. Tch. That guy's anything but subtle. She only had one opportunity to explore this forsaken environment, so she wandered through the husks of once magnificent structures, taking a detour for a little sightseeing. It certainly beat getting caught in an open clearing. Now that would be a terrible strategy for living.

Nice, phone still works. Atop a precariously standing skyscraper, Lilith lines up her camera for another picture. Perhaps it was more like 20, actually. There's plenty of interesting places to photograph yourself in Cevanti as it turns out, with amazing views above the overarching canopies. Shame about that whole apocalypse stuff, not her problem though.

Didn't Karl say something about a quest item? Right, she had a reason to grab that, if only to hinder the competition. And there's a chance her pet could be there too…

That settles it. The sadist would seek out the loot and pounce on whoever clashed with her. Now she just had to figure out where—

"Hhrkouff!"

Only one man breathed like that, labored, muffled, and filtered. Lilith stared skyward to the direction of the gruff coughing fit, spotting the vague shape of a man crawling along a wall, lurking like a panther. Clearly one of them was taking the hunt serious. Soon she would join too.

The villainess hopped up and approached on two legs, rather than all fours. "Heyyyy Caustic~ What brings you up here? Love the new look by the way, very goth."

Damn, spotted. Doctor Caustic begrudgingly acknowledged his acquaintance. "A boon from our previous partnership, Ms. Lilith. I'm here to intercept the supposed 'quest item', same as you and everyone else."

"Well! Sounds like you need some company to bring to the party." Lilith grinned madly. "You and me, feheh… We got a pretty good track record, yeah?"

"The results speak for themselves. With our strength unrestricted, we can exterminate the competition one by one. You especially, I am interested to see in action." Smooth talk to arouse the acid woman's ego, necessary to play along with her games. He learned as much from prior experience.

And the flattery worked wonders. "Oh I couldn't agree more! I can't wait to unload on each and every person~ Yknow, I was thinking of just sitting this one out, biding my time until the end, but the prize is right there. Plus, I'm on the hunt for a certain magical scientist. You know the one." Lilith could ramble on and on.

"How fortunate you have a secondary objective." Caustic had no problem being upfront. Always getting down to business about what they could do for each other. "You'll appreciate having less distractions to your target, then. And I'll have less obstacles to championship."

"Mhmm," she hummed, laying down vertically. "Just don't expect me to die for you this time. Though I'm sure you can handle yourself." She reached a hand to her toxic companion, who skirted away from her touch. "Promise me one thing, Doctor." Despite their objection, Lilith leaned in, grazing the legend's mask. "I will be the one to finish off Chara."

Caustic grumbled at his handsy teammate. "I won't do a thing to spoil the moment. I know how you value your… performances."

"Hmhmhm~ That's what I love hearing," Lilith sang.

For two murderers that should have a lot in common, their personalities were polar opposites. The chemistry, or lack thereof, in their stilted conversation proved as much. Perhaps mutual distrust was the only way they'd cooperate.

Hopefully their differences wouldn't come to neutralize each other.

 

[Mad Maggie]

Having engaged with Lilith and resumed our alliance, I decided it was time to take a break from crawling unseen above the treetops. Even with my items, She was still far more mobile and stealthy than I was. She'd heard me cough, as much as I'd tried to muffle it, and that meant others might hear me as well. Better for them to think I was alone. Digging my fingers into the side of the building, I slid down towards the ground and tugged the dirty, shredded jacket off, stowing it back into my bag for later. "I will travel along the ground and draw attention. I'm sure you will be drawn to any noises of conflict, whichever method you choose to travel."

Lillith decided to stay perpendicular to the flat surface, casually walking along the siding as if she were a model on the catwalk. She reminded me of Loba in all the worst ways, except that the acid woman didn't have blackmail material. And my true name wasn't as besmirched here in the Crossroads, thanks to Officer Maldera's vendetta. One planet had declared me a terrorist, but there was no overarching government like the Syndicate. I had several more to explore and exploit before there would be any more consequences beyond a stay in Arcadia's excuse for a black site.

The difference in heights also allowed me to be blissfully free from her messy attempts at seduction, although she already had another focus in this game. I suppose she couldn't help herself. Even mutated, eldritch freaks like her still had some sort of reproductive drive, even if it was useless for actual procreation. I find the entire mess distasteful, if necessary. I was a scientist. Leave the breeding to others.

As we traveled, I noticed a plume of smoke softly billowing up into the air, the ground around it raised slightly in an impact crater. Wordlessly, I hstled up, jogging a bit further ahead to inspect the drop. There was no box, or broken crate...merely a large golden sphere that was strangely light, with a star suspended in the middle. "What...." I turned it over to see that the star shifted into a purple lip imprint when viewed from the back. "Smooches..." I grunted. Karl Jak was just as annoyingly theatrical as the Man-in-Red, even when it came to Syntech's errors.

"Lilith....I believe we've found the first item required for escape." I called, lifting it up slightly to show her and then stowing it in my duffel bag. "Let us keep moving. No doubt landfall attracted other competitors."

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

The time had finally come.

VMM-CRACK! In a shower of splintered wood and sizzling plasma, Gascoigne sliced the waiting supply crate open.

A grinning Sigmund dove past him, digging into the charred, still-smoking remains of the wooden crate like a vulture upon a rotting carcass— or perhaps an overexcitable child tearing open their presents on Christmas morning. Madness glinted in his eyes, as always, but also a great deal of genuine glee. Finally, a welcome change of luck amid all the unfortunate happenings thus far! What would the supply drop contain? Healing syringes? A potion? A weapon of unspeakable power?

It was only when he peered inside that his good cheer faltered somewhat. Drawing up short, Sigmund simply… stared, a confused frown gradually worming its way across his face.

There was a long moment of stunned silence. Gascoigne peered over the scion’s shoulder, sniffing at the air like a hound.

“Well?” the hunter growled, soon growing impatient at the cultist’s inaction. “What is it?”

Stricken quite speechless, Sigmund reached into the crate. His hands trembled as they grasped the flimsy, shimmery paper inside, carefully drawing it closer to his face as if it were a cobra poised to strike. A small furrow appeared between his brows as he inspected the… object.

“It’s a… book,” he hedged, mostly for Gascoigne’s benefit. As if he could spare the good hunter from the horror of what the dynamic duo had uncovered. Slowly, Vrell began to flip through the gloss-covered pages, hoping against hope that something else would be special about this particular vintage article.

Alas, it was not to be. Sigmund cringed mightily, closing the book a bit more harshly than intended. The pages crinkled, a slight tear appearing along the cheap book’s spine.

Good, he thought, the tiniest pinpricks of a rosy blush appearing high on his cheekbones, standing out starkly against his already pale complexion. The glossy images inside were enough to drive any being to madness, far worse than any eldritch fondling of the mind! The bitter disappointment sitting low in his gut resented the fact that he could not simply burn it.

At his side, Gascoigne snorted.

“Let me see that,” he huffed, snatching the book from Vrell’s hands. It looked ridiculously small in his large mitts, all of the pages falling open as he turned it sideways— a completely incorrect angle for reading a book, really. As Sigmund looked on in mute horror, the contents inside were bared to the hunter’s failing eyesight, glistening in the glorious light of the mid-afternoon sun.

A pause, and then a raucous cackle had burst forth from Gascoigne’s barrel-drum of a chest, ringing out far and wide.

“Ah, but you’re a young buck yet,” Gascoigne chortled, clapping Sigmund firmly on the back and shoving the Play, Boy magazine back into his hands. The wiry cultist staggered with the blow, suppressing a surprised yelp. “There you are, hunter. It’s all yours.”

And with that being said, the hunter strolled leisurely past, mind turning to the hunt once more.

 

[Josuke Higashikata]

From all the action happening to Josuke, it is a good idea to take a breather and rummage through his survival bag filled with the necessary tools to help him in Dante's Abyss. Minor soreness is felt across Josuke's body after Crazy Diamond took that hard impact. Firstly, the map program starts progressing and lights up a tablet's screen in his hands. It was already afternoon with the sun rising in the sky, but dark clouds had heavily blocked it, making little light shine down on this deadly unforgiving planet. Meanwhile, where Josuke rests, a lone damaged and abandoned troop transporter walker had so much battle-damaged to it.

From looking at this military armored vehicle, a past ambush took place, giving a sense that this walker burned long ago by the destruction of fire.

Josuke finds his way to an easy entry into the dumped transporter and sits in a worn-out seat. He remains inside the walker's hull, where soldiers load up and ride. The interior remains dark even though it is afternoon, making the stand user's face illuminated by the bright tablet screen. After Karl Jak's afternoon announcement comes from his collar, the map starts changing to show areas becoming consumed by the sinister unmaking work. This land is becoming even more unmade each hour, although this planet is about entirely unmade.

"Well, that's just great." Josuke sighs in response to the game host's news, not pleased with how fast time is counting down.

His ears perk up by hearing something that's called an easter egg that interests him a bit, but it could spell bad news for more unpleasant encounters. Still, Josuke thinks he'll come across someone that would at least listen to him for a minute and consider commonsense moral choices about working together to get off this miserable rock alive. That feels more like an ideal specialty to form rather than strangle each other throats until we realize the main threat kills us all. Who would want to watch that anyway? Every year that spectators tune in to watch this competitive blood-filled game are going to want to observe all the carnage tangling alongside drama.

While resting, his hands explore the survival bag teleported with him to this unplanned destination. Long ago, he had that delicious meat-lovers pizza back in the pre-show, and now hunger reminds him that it's lunchtime. The back-to-back fights didn't give him enough of a break to catch breakfast. Before looking for food in his bag, the pompadour teenage boy pops his head out from the walker where he entered to make certain he is truly alone. Sure enough, not a soul was in sight, which made him feel relieved.

Four MREs and four twenty-two-ounce water bottles rest inside the military-grade sack. His hand reaches to pick one randomly, and once he gets a hold, one MRE becomes exposed to his eyes to read. On the front, it said Mac n Cheese, making Josuke in a mood for some good old macaroni cheese. Using his fingers and grip, the tinfoil that encases MRE rips apart to reveal a dry square piece of orangish-yellow block that barely resembles macaroni cheese. Without hesitation, Josuke's mouth chomps down on a perfect size piece and starts chewing.

The more his tongue tasted it, the less he started to chew. His jaw stops with no more chewing, and a disgusted expression develops on Josuke's face. In a split second, he spits the disgusting soggy chewed, if you would call it "food," onto the cold steel floor.

"I had greater cafeteria food than this shit! Fucking disgusting."

 

[Nico Cinder]

Other moving parties out and about in the oppressive heat of the corrupted sunlight might just catch sight of a couple smoke columns climbing above the Unmade plains to the north, near the bunker. At the bottom of one of these pillars of smoke, Nico was kneeling over his trusty weapon of excellent destruction. On either side of him was half of a beastly scrap carcass, each chunk of Unmade robo-meat bigger than Nico himself several times over. The ground was still a little on fire a few feet away, from where the gas tank in the creature's stomach combusted.

A rocket'll do that to ya, Nico thought to himself. So will consuming precious resources.

Wiping his index finger on his oilblood-stained jeans, he leaned his cheek on his clean-ish hand and surveyed his work.

"OLE RELIABLE"

Except the last 'L' was slanted so it looked a little funky, but Nico figured it was pretty obvious what it was supposed to say. Black blood is pretty metal, anyhow. He stood and slung the weapon over his shoulder. Guts and various mechanical entrails spilled forth from both ends closest to Nico, laying in a pile at his feet. Some of them looked strikingly organic, like the real deal kinda meat. The only part of the animal the young man knew to be really and truly organic though was the head. Somehow, a rather vicious looking flytrap covered in thorn and bramble seemed to be grafted into the mechanical body at the neck. Ironically, even though this big bastard was a danger to itself and everything around it, it's scary looking head couldn't possibly have the jaw strength to be any meaningful kind of carnivorous, nor did it have the necessary appendages to force food into its rather tiny food hole. He toed the planthead with his foot. It squished a bit, like rotten fruit. With a grimace, Nico walked past the blown apart creature.

And another. And another. And one more. All in various states of exploded.

The first one he tried to blow up just shrugged its shoulder into the explosion, about as happy as he would've been after getting shot at, Nico figured. This, according to videogames and science (probably) implied some kind of armor. True to form, it took several rounds tearing several chunks of the beast away to bring it down. But, when the second one came running, it tripped itself up trying to trample him. The rockstar managed a shot off on its exposed belly, and the explosion was violent enough to knock him off his feet despite being well enough away from the blast zone. And god, the smell. Like burnt mushrooms and welding torches.

It was only after putting this strategy into practice against the rest of their small pack that Nico was able to get a closer look at these things. Whatever it was they ate, it must've sat in their machine bellies and festered, brewed. Became volatile. Nico was no mechanobiologist, but he figured this was at least a plausible theory. Looking back at the trail of four corpses, the contestant decided it mattered little now, and continued on his way to the safe zone.

Play more videogames, kids.

 

[Rogue]

Arbiter take me but this girl was full o’ herself! Who did she think she was? Ah opened and shut my mouth more then once to interject into her little speech about how unfair the world was, but ah’d a feeling it wouldn’t even register. Ah’d had some experiences with how cruel the crossroads could be, hun, my home town chased me off with pitchforks and torches! Ah couldn’t tell whether she was putting on airs in an effort to seem tough or if she really believed the whole crossroads was weighin’ on her four-foot shoulders.

“My smile don’t need protectin’ from nobody, Sugah. Ah’m nah one o’ those children that signed up for this without knowing the risks! Ah know what ah’ve agreed to!”

“Do you?” Chara glanced back casually, those damned shades once again hiding her expression, “How many unmade abominations have you put down? How many innocent lives have you taken? Those are the kind of people that have a place here in the Abyss. Are you one of them?”

She glanced back at me with another infuriatingly easy smirk. “Or could it be both?”

“Sugah, you seem like you’ve got a lot on your plate, so ah’m gonna let that one slide. But ah came here to prove that ah have what it takes to stand up to the roughest, toughest sons o’ guns in the crossroads. Ah didn’t expect to come out of this place singing campfire songs.”

Chara just shrugged. Ah wanted to slug her now.

“You’re gonna talk like you know what ah’m doin’ here? We’ve had about half a conversation. An’ ah’d argue even saying it’s that much is generous!”

“Actually, I would say you answered the questions quite well. For you this place is a proving grounds. You have yet to find how far you are willing to take things.” Chara cut in smoothly, but with a sharpness that cut off my sentence mid-stride. That was it. Enough of this. Ah stopped short, arms crossed.

“Fine, you know what, Hun? Have fun with your time here on the island. Maybe when you stop being so sure you’re right about everything you’ll have a chance to realize ah didn’t want anything besides someone to talk to!”

“If that were true I would be sad.” Chara shrugged, continuing to walk with the same casual stride.

“Arbiter, girl! Are you so dead inside that you can’t even be assed to care about anything that happens anymore?”

Chara tilted her head slightly, then laughed. “...Not on free television.”

“That’s it! Ah think it’s for the best we split ways, Sugar. Your dismissin’ me is putting me in the mind to prove your guesses right.”

Chara stopped, turning lightly, arms still propped behind her head.

“Yeah, I suppose we cannot be friends right now. Really terrible start to the whole thing. Well... even if you dislike me, do stay safe. If you are still around in the next few days... I would be fine trying a second go at this. Maybe with more honesty this time, beautiful?"

“Maybe if you can reach me from all the way up on that pedestal.” Ah snarled, then stormed off in the other direction without another word.

Ah didn’t wait to see what Chara said or did. She could go and get herself unmade for all ah cared! Uppity priss didn’t even have the decency to argue with any emotion!

Ah’d show her. Ah knew what ah was getting into with this event. Ah knew the stakes. Ah was ready for this. Ah was a monster in my own right when ah needed to be. Ah could handle the worst this place could dish out! If folks didn’t want to work together to get out of here, ah'd deck ‘em flat with their own powers and make a way out. It wasn’t that far to reach my destination from here. Ah’d have plenty of time to scope out the area.

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

The southern vision stormed off with very acute ‘fuck-off’ energy radiating from her with every step, leaving Chara to smile and sigh to hide her own thoughts.

She had meant every word she had said, really. It was a shame she had already created the wrong type of prophecy…

Well, her grumpiness had cost something, and it was not going to be her that faced the consequences. The thought gave her a wince as she watched Rogue leave. She lacked so much information about Rogue, and what she had was confusing. Manipulative, but relatively innocent. Desperate to prove something, yet to none other than herself. Very interested in questions on the offensive, but not the defensive… or was that truly just curiosity on her part?

Chara did not know, but she was certain from the way Rogue spoke and acted: The woman was about to meet her first real samples of violence and murder, and all Chara could do was hope she would survive reality’s harsh punishment.

Well, hopefully she had enough sense to at least not go for the easter egg, though…

“Oh dear. She is going to go for the easter egg.” Chara murmured, hoisting her bindle as she kept walking down a separate path. She needed to allow the southern belle to calm herself down. If she did have a great power hiding in her, or a great weapon, then Chara’s protection from physical threats were not needed, and given how quickly her warnings were disregarded, there was nothing she could do to protect the woman’s soul in this godforsaken situation.

She did not have time to worry about it, though. Chara Dreemurr knew Rogue was about to lose some things in Cevanti’s wilderness, but there was so much more left to lose - for all of them - and that had to be her priority. Her own feelings on the subject needed to fall by the wayside of cold logic here. It was how Chara worked best, and it was in this instance quite clear.

The Unmade eclipsed the threat of the players here, and they would be a growing one. Her goal here had to be eliminating as many of them, as quickly as possible, while on the search for allies.

The smile fell from her face as her eyes glowed red. It had not been since Opealon that she had been able to utilize her magic in any real capacity. She had been forced to show her full abilities there, and despite that breing a breach of secrecy she had hated…

Well, it meant she had nothing to hide now. And despite her words to Lilith, despite how much she wanted to avoid thinking about it… Chara was looking forward to something as comparatively simple and morally simplistic as exterminating Darkseid’s forces. If Chara had to hurt mentally from all of this, she was going to make sure she took her pound of flesh from the Arbiter’s forces.

“Now, if I were an unmade abomination, where would I be?” Chara asked aloud, a soft smile crossing her features.

 

[Izaneus Phortea]

Wiping the sweat from her brow Shikiria continued down the malformed mountainside, her eyes scouring the plains and forests all of which the unmaking graciously transformed into what was once probably a beautiful wilderness with majestic creatures abound. Into a majority of blackish wasteland, uninhabitable to all but the spawn of it's horrendous nature. But that's not what she was looking for.

"Silent.. save for Jaks interruptions." She muttered to herself. Fully aggravated by the man already. Pompous and over-dramatic. Her worst kind of person.

She sighed. Also not what she was looking for.

" Even if I do find someone, I gotta be careful to make sure they aren't... well, murderous.. " She reminded herself, carefully sliding down until the ground beneath her was relatively flat.

With a sigh, she looked around, making sure no one was around before she rested for the time being.

" I don't see anyone... let's hope they can't turn invisible..." She worried aloud. Taking a seat, and a breath. Inhaling fresh air, the breeze lovingly pressed against her, cooling her just perfectly. It was really hot out, so much so the swordsmage's biggest worry right now was getting a sunburn. A slash? She could handle. Broken bones? easy. Sunburn? Annoying, hellishly so.

Speaking of annoyances. She pulled out her given item. Her support. Aid, if you will.

What exactly was she supposed to do with this thing? She'd genuinely no clue. Maybe it was supposed to be flavoring for the MRE's that she'd been given so generously. She was starting to get a bit famished....

She'd have a taste, a small snack, and eat the rest later, to keep her strength up. Sitting cross legged she pulled a package of food from her bag. and opened it...the budget did NOT go to the food huh? Didn't even look appetizing. Maybe it tasted better? She thought to herself, naively. Taking a bite. She thought for a moment.

In what she would describe as shock. Shikiria stayed there for a few moments, processing. Until the realization hit her. and she debated spitting the "food" out. it was worse than anything she'd had in her life... Well... no, it was. Iza at least tried to cook. Whoever made this just threw what they thought would be good in and called it a day. Not necessarily a problem for sustenance, since it was at least nutritional. there was some charred ham, a piece of stale bread, and of course, poorly made mac'n cheese.

Forget keeping her strength up, she just didn't want to have to eat more of this later. She started with the ham, forcing herself through the harrowing experience. Then was the Mac'n Cheese...

Torturous, was how Shiki would detail the experience as she forced herself through the slimy food. Normally, she enjoyed mac'n Cheese, this made her rethink that preference. Next was the stale bread...

in a moment of genius, Shikiria realized there WAS something her item could be used for! She quickly pulled the top off her item, and carefully spread the contents over the bread, before sealing it up. barely any used. She took a bite.

Magical, truly, the saving grace of the meal as it stood. If HERS was this bad, she hoped some of the less favorable contestants got food poisoning from theirs, likely not. But a girl could hope nonetheless. She sat there for a small bit, just enjoying the savoriness of that bread, and finding her energy actually somewhat restored. She smiled. It was off to a slow start, but she could do this for sure. No problem.

She just needed to find someone, Maybe they could help her find him... Suddenly her mood turned sour.

With a sigh she stood.

It was about time she got moving again...