"Hrm. Not to say I don't enjoy your constant attempts to engage me in what you consider...stimulating conversation." But I am growing weary with these hours of solitude." I looked around at the terrain surrounding us, enough of it rendered level by the destruction and Unmaking. Slowly, I took off my duffel bag and reached inside for the second of the items I'd brought with me, Lilith watching in curious silence.
A deer skull. marked with painted sigils and leather straps. Removing my bowler hat and clownish respirator, I slowly placed the macabre totem upon my head and instantly fell to my knees. I could feel necormantic power enveloping me, teal vapor like that of the mad lich kingsurrounding my form and coalescing next to me. A coughing fit began, but was soon cut off as I realized that I had no real need to breathe as hard as I had been. My skin began to feel stretched, pallid, my eyes aching as they glowed with a green light through the fog. Standing up out of the vapor, I turned to look at Lilith. "Ooof, jeeez, Doc....you stink like the grave!" She mocked, waving a hand in front of her nose. "And what is THAT?"
A skeletal deer stood a few yards away, emitting the teal vapors. I strode over, breathing in the smoke and feeling nothing. "A nightmare." I responded simply, my voice thick and heavy with an echoing timbre as I mounted the beast. "Follow behind, if you will. Just not too close."
Firstly, people had arrived, which was unfortunate. Thankfully, mostly for them. unthankfully, Shikiria was reminded of just how much damage magic could do. as her back was lit up like a Christmas tree
She limped forward, struggling to find some sort of rest as she moved away, That was not how she anticipated things would go. Though, if she was honest with herself, she couldn't really see how there'd be any other way it would've played out. Though... she really was hoping to maybe talk to one of them... She sighed, and grunted as her leg took a turn for the worse, she needed to re-set this thing before it started to heal in a VERY awkward angle.
She also needed to get the hell out of here, before those two decided she was an easier mark.
No matter how she cut it... that was a mess. She would have preferred not to injure the other competitor as she did, but she had... whatever this thing was.
She really truly would have liked to talk instead of... well, what happened, but when an actual fight breaks out, she just can't help herself. Moving her hair out of the way, and tucking what she could behind her ear so she could focus. Adrenaline always ran high, Anxiety more so. But she would be fine... just needed to... go sit somewhere, get some cold water on these burns, and fix this leg.... god. That got really fucked up.
"Okaay.... c'mon Shiki, lets stay out of the way of the nice passerbys for a bit yeah? Yeahhh.." She whispered to herself as she moved along as fast as she could, hobbling and doing her best to keep her sounds of pain quiet.
After a few minutes of groaning, moaning, and general pain. Shikiria found herself sitting up against the flat of a rock, holding her injured leg, and doing a thorough inspection of the damage.
First and foremost the worst of the damage seemed to be stemming from the knee, which, obviously, was dislocated. Secondly, the lacerations, thankfully, were not deep, but they could turn into something serious, likely first from infection if she didn't find a way to clean, and simultaneously dress them. All in all, they needed urgent attention. Grabbing her leg, Shikiria got to work
Not much later did a sickening crack shortly sound, along with the sounds of intense, muffled pain. Followed by ragged breaths. and the tearing of fabric.
Her pant leg was already torn, might as well make it into something useful .
Okay, out of the fire, but not the woods, literally. She stood, wincing as she did so. This thing would definitely NOT be easy to run on. But she didn't really have that much choice. She had to look for shelter, and given Jaks latest announcement, she knew just where to look. She hoped she could rest her injured self until then. Where she could find more traditional medical supplies, where she could then properly treat herself, instead of this.... makeshift bandage.
" Whew! Never went through this didja? You just got to sit back through most of it... not me, I'm here doing my best to stay alive... score one for Shiki.." She chuckled darkly, using vague, and frankly inappropriate humor to ease the fear growing in her chest. To no avail.
"Oookay... I'll get through this.. I'll get through this.. I'll get through this..." She chanted to herself as she took deep calming breaths, she had to keep going. She'd be fine as long as she didn't stop. No weaknesses. No faults. She just needed a minute.. and then she would head towards shelter. Shikiria laid her head against the rock she was using to prop herself up. making sure her back wasn't touching it. Lest she be in even more pain right now. Chanting all the while.
"I'll get through this.. I'll get through this... I'll get through this..."
Face to Face
#1 Slurt Crumbucket, #06 Christine & #16 Kolith vs #14 Caustic & #12 Lilith
It had just been a couple of hours since they had sent Jester south to examine the drop site of the next ‘quest item’. After being bloodied and shaken in their recent conflict, the trio had tried to lay low for a little bit, with Kolith and Christine keeping watch throughout the darkest hours of the night.
With no news yet from Jester despite Karl’s most recent announcements about the spread of the unmaking and the arrival of yet more weapons of mass destruction. Christine yawned as she turned away from the landscape of fog-drenched, unmade foliage and back to the slumbering Slurt. The child had been roughed up earlier, and Christine would make certain nothing else would befall his little head while she still drew breath. Between Slurt’s injury, Kolith’s weapon losing its ‘magic’, and the horn of the madman nearly causing them to kill each other, it had been a long and arduous day.
They held one of the quest items in their possession. Christine speculated it was some type of unorthodox power supply or something, given the fact that it seemed to glow without end. Whatever it was, they other six couldn’t be collected fast enough, to usher little Slurt off of this twisted, malformed hellscape called Cevanti.
A rustling in the wilderness.
The soulless assassin turned; her lightsaber ready in her hand but deactivated. The weapon was loud, and she didn’t want to terrify Slurt if this was a nothing situation. From the ‘tree line’, a sickly deer trotted outward—its seemingly diseased black flesh so thin that its skeleton could be seen, even at a distance.
Christine scowled. A part of her would have appreciated a fresh cooked meal over a fire, but she’d much rather prefer the tasteless drivel from Karl rather than eat the nightmare beast that stared at her.
“Shoo,” she whispered as she took a step forward and tried to wave off the unsettling animal. The last thing she needed was Slurt waking up to this thing on the edge of their camp. The goblin would have nightmares for the rest of the competition.
The deer, however, simply tilted its head, its white eyes seeming to bore through Christine, who barely noticed that the fog had started to come on thick across their camp. Her attention shifting, the assassin felt a sudden heaviness in her chest. “… putain de merde.”
“Kolith!” Christine screamed as she flipped the ignitor for the light saber. The energy blade roared to life as a ghoulish man dressed in a deer’s skull casually strode out from the trees. “You got three seconds to piss off.” The woman growled as a thoroughly confused Slurt started to cough and wheeze amid the growing cloud of noxious gases.
Like a grim reaper, the man reached behind his back and drew, not a scythe, but a massive warhammer.
“So many test subjects!” Caustic laughed. “I always love when the rest of the trap closes on the mouse.”
Kolith, who had lifted little Slurt up above the gas layer, stepped up to Christine and put a hand on her shoulder. “We should escape,” he whispered.
“I told you that I’d remember you,” Caustic laughed as the tribal warrior clenched his jaw and squeezed a little tighter onto his companion’s shoulder. Before he could speak, Slurt let out a shriek.
“A monstah!” He wailed as he pointed to something behind them.
The vessel of the Elder Spirits growled as he saw the partially liquified woman rise up from the poisonous fumes that hung along the ground. Her eyes burning with sinister intent, Lilith sprung—her body seeming to rush forward like an errant stream as she sought to embrace the trio in her caustic touch.
Slamming his hip into Christine, Kolith threw away Slurt before trying to avoid the woman. His companions safe, he winced as fragments of Lilith spattered onto his clothing and immediately assailed the flesh beneath, to sizzling effect.
Her unstable body coming to a rolling stop as it began to take a more solid shape, Lilith blew a kiss as her lips reformed.
“Lilith!”
The scream was from Caustic, whose slow, serial killer stride toward the scene of what should have been a slaughter had been interrupted by the sight of nearby shadows coalescing into a new, menacing force.
Trevor O’Skully hoisted the Proto Buster and fired, catching a still-forming Lilith square in the chest with a burst of energy that threw her backwards. The woman slammed into the ground with a squelch before her body popped outward like a water balloon.
Caustic willed the Deathseeker to intercept this unplanned variable. Its mouth now frothing with thick teal vapors, the decaying deer charged for the shadow assassin. With that occupied, the ‘doctor’ returned his attention to the startled and unprepared trio. “Time to die,” he muttered as he kicked the lightsaber away from a coughing, semi-conscious Christine and hoisted the Deathmaul up over his head. “I’m doing you a favor,” he sneered.
Before Caustic could crush the woman’s skull, he felt the smallest poke in his ankle. Glancing down, he saw a heaving, red-eyed goblin stabbing at him with what seemed to be a very durable… spork?
“I won’t suffer you to live,” the man remarked as he drilled a fist into Slurt’s jaw. A spray of blood and some dental fragments sputtered out of the pitiful creature as he crashed down to the ground and tried to cover the coughs that immediately started to sputter out of his tiny lungs. With zero hesitance, the Deathmaul fell, and the satisfying crunch of bone was almost overshadowed by the horrible screams that issued forth from the child’s mouth.
“Don’t pass out,” Caustic laughed as he knelt down next to the child. The doctor took a moment to reach and grab the hat that had fallen off his prey’s head. “Savor the pain, little one. It’ll make you appreciate the death to come all the more.”
Swinging his maul up above his head once more, Caustic sneered behind his skeletal mask, but the crackle of a lightsaber sent him spinning around. Deftly, the vile physician intercepted the scintillating saber with the haft of his maul.
“You will die.”
“Interesting hypothesis,” Caustic rasped as the air around the pair seemed to thicken. The ‘fog’ started to swell up around Christine, who grit her teeth and tried to will her nose not to draw breath. “Let me offer a revision to your theory.”
Caustic shoved Christine backwards, and his swing a few moments later clipped the woman’s shoulder as she tried to dodge.
Collapsing to the ground, the assassin’s vision started to double as she heard the thud of boots behind her.
“Breath deep. It’ll be over faster.”
A blast of plasma caught Caustic in the chest, propelling the fetid madman and his aura of death back down into the four-foot haze of his own creation. Somewhere, Trevor smiled, but his efforts soon shifted back to the deer.
Meanwhile, a large portion of the fog was blown away as a winged Kolith lurched up to his feet. His eyes set on Christine and Slurt, he couldn’t get much further than a few steps before a lithe woman dribbling acid from her body sprung forth to intercept him.
“Move,” Kolith growled, which only seem to excite the woman.
“Or what? Will you hurt me?” She said with a faux gasp as she reached into her duffel and procured what seemed to be a glowing sack of red fluids. The throbbing pouch of thick, wet blood popped, but before any of it spattered, the material seemed to congeal almost immediately into a limp strand of… some sort of eldritch matter that Kolith had zero interest in dwelling upon.
Licking her lips, Lilith let out a purr as she gave the whip a nice test lash on the nearby ground. Kolith noted the ease with which the weapon cleaved through Cevanti’s dead, barren soil. “Don’t go limp on me now, big boy.”
Kolith leapt over the ensuing lashing. The wings of Rokku gave him more than enough clearance over the woman and her foul, unnatural tricks. Landing gently, the man whispered a pray to the spirits within as Gallo’s strength caused his muscles to visible bulge as his skin and hair took on the aspects of Narri.
Imbued with the three spirits simultaneously, Kolith rushed Caustic, who was already gearing up for another swing of the maul. Dipping around the swing with impossible grace, Kolith waited until the hammer had sunk deep into the earth before he retaliated with a crushing blow that smashed one of Caustic’s hands against the grip of his own fearsome relic. A second blow splintered the skull helmet and sent the madman sprawling backward.
Priorities quickly shifting, Kolith moved for Christine, who struggled viciously to not lose consciousness.
“Not so fast, Big Man,” Lilith said moments before her whip cut a violent, blood-spattering path across Kolith’s face and chest.
Lurching forward and falling to a knee, Kolith saw Christine’s weapon. In yet another display of spirit-infused dexterity, he fired up the lightsaber and wiped it like a javelin at a wholly unsuspecting Lilith, who initially didn’t know if she should be excited or displeased at the throbbing red shaft penetrating her midsection.
As Lilith fumbled with the vibrating device’s controls, Kolith collected both of his companions into his massive arms and leapt across the clearing. “We were just starting to have a good time!” Lilith shouted as she found the switch that turned off the blade. With the weapon falling to the ground, she gave chase, but a second spirit-infused leap took the primal man and his companions far from her ready and eager fingertips.
“They got away,” Lilith mumbled as she turned to Caustic, who was back on his feet.
“Deathseeker will usher me to them,” the doctor rasped as he scanned around. Finally, a massive, smoldering heap crashed down between Lilith and Caustic. The pair turned to see Trevor, his weapon still smoking, standing there and casually tossing the lightsaber around like a toy.
“Come and play,” Lilith cooed as she stepped toward the man and lashed out with her whip.
The shadow assassin blew a kiss to the twosome as he turned and literally leapt into the shadows.
“I didn’t get to finish,” Lilith groaned.
Caustic, while a bit disappointed that he hadn’t murdered everyone, found solace in their prize.
“One step closer,” he replied as he held up the two-star sphere for the woman to see.
Lilith used an application of Focus (context – lady tanked a weapon blast)
Lilith used Consumable – Blood Bag (Blood Whip)
Caustic used Relic – the Death Maul (1 application of Focus)
Caustic used Deathstalker Trinket (in the post before this one – 1 use)
Slurt was pressured into one application of focus (mitigation of being even more mauled)
Christine was pressured into one application of Focus (mitigation of being even more mauled)
Kolith was pressured into one application of Focus (channeled all three spirit abilities simultaneously for a bit)
Slurt has a broken leg (Major Injury) and his jaw is shattered (Major Injury) – for the sake of ‘tracking purposes’, these replace his prior injuries
Kolith is blind in one eye and has a laceration diagonally across his face and down the front half of his chest – this wound can be wrapped but it will continue to slowly bleed (Insane Injury)
Christine’s vision has been compromised, her lungs won’t work quite as well as they should, she has no taste of taste or smell, and she’s got a chunk of her shoulder/neck missing/literally bludgeoned off (a Major Injury, mostly due to the broken collar bone and scapula and a litany of story-based ones)
Lilith has a particularly painful stab wound through her abdomen (‘pain’ being relative, she might enjoy it, who knows) – Minor Injury and some gross-looking burns that don’t hurt as much as they might seem (a Story Injury)
Caustic’s right hand has a few fractured bones in it (Minor Injury)
Trevor has a deep cut down one of his arms – despite his deft departure, he still got ‘tagged’ with a bit of the whip (Minor Injury)
While not destroyed, the Deathstalker Summon did suffer a grievous handful of injuries (of which it likely won’t be bothered, since it’s an undead monster deer)
Trevor takes the lightsaber (note he didn’t directly steal it)
Caustic takes Quest Item 2 from Slurt.
Everyone here is on cooldown for the next 12 hours or until they move from the square (I realize I often forget to place this blurb in F2F so thank you to everyone for just… knowing, but I’ll try and make sure I note this)
The figure plopped onto the lava, floated for a few moments, and then vanished.
For the next three minutes, Demetri sat near the brim of the volcano and waited for… well, anything.
“Is this some kind of test?” He asked as he turned and looked for a camera or some kind. “Did I pass?”
Suddenly, the magma below started to churn and bubble. Silently, a figure leapt out of the lava and landed a few paces from Demetri.
“S’up.” It was Mirage, if you looked passed the grotesque third-degree burns that left parts of his skeleton exposed in a few places. “I’m a super villain, and I like to hurt babies and stuff. Rawr!” Before Demetri could comment on the situation, Mirage had drawn a revolver and opened fire.
Choose-Your-Own Adventure Prompt
Option A – Run away. You incur no penalty.
Option B – You have one post to fight Mirage. Afterwards, I’ll PM you to notify you if you have passed or failed the challenge. Win or lose, you’ll suffer an injury of some kind. Win, and you’ll receive a prize from Karl after you violently kill Mirage.
If you choose to run away, this prompt will be available for anyone who enters this square in the future.
“Hrngh,” Doc groaned as he tumbled down a hill again. Whereas his acrobatics were deliberate and smooth before, now his movements were sluggish and stunted. He landed on his hip, sliding down the rest of the woody slope.
Dr. McNinja investigated his burns, glaring at them with disdain. “Yeah, okay, ow.”
Well, Doc was nothing if not a healer. Even with none of the proper tools he normally had at his disposal, Doc could probably alleviate this in a jiffy. The real potential killer here was his injuries getting worse. His work would largely entail cooling the skin to make sure the heat didn’t cause further damage, and then find a way to bandage it to prevent infection.
As Doc sought out the nearest river, he thought about the other contestants he ran into. Sure, there was the blue girl with the dress and the horns. Doc had spent enough time in the Crossroads not to judge people poorly on their appearance, but something about the adrenaline and the very lonely first day made him strike out unnecessarily. Probably could have just put her to sleep, too, instead of expelling his ki all up in her face.
“I dunno,” Doc said as he worked, “She seemed nice.”
Yes, she did. Nice enough to talk to, actually. She did shoot what looked like a gun at the fire girl, but honestly? Doc also didn’t have the fondest feelings for the woman who set him on fire.
Doc threw off his labcoat as he trudged along. What was her deal anyway? Doc only attacked out of instinct. That woman seemed to be fully in killer-mode. Or not? It was hard for McNinja to process, but perhaps…
Well, either way, she seemed nice too - nice enough to neck-snap.
“This suuuuucks,” Doc groaned.
Well, good news, Dr. McNinja had found himself a small stream. He’d use one of his water bottles, but it seemed best to keep that for drinking. The good doctor tore off a piece of his coat, soaking it in the cool stream. He gingerly pressed the soaked cloth against the raw flesh on his left arm.
“This suuuuuucks,” Doc hissed.
After soaking it, he tore another piece of the coat. It was terrible gauze material, but honestly? Karl Jak hadn’t thought to put in a first aid kit, and this would have to do. He wrapped his left arm with the strip of cloth, gritting his teeth and hissing as he treated it.
As he prepped his wet rag to clean his chest burns, Doc looked to his right. The woods gave way to what would normally have been a beautiful view of the valley. Well, normally. Doc could sense the Unmaking here. It was like a warbling whining noise behind Doc’s ears, screeching and groaning at high, nearly undetectable pitches. Honestly, now that Doc had noticed the noise, it was hard to ignore. The worst part was its presence in the valley. It rolled down the slopes between the mountains like a bitingly cold wind. It echoed between the natural walls, and it fed on the leaves of the trees. If a place could die, this place was surely dying.
“Jesus,” Dr. McNinja mumbled, “Maybe we shouldn’t be focusing on Karl Jak’s scavenger hunt.”
Doc grit his teeth as he finished wrapping his makeshift bandages. Now he had no coat, only his collared shirt and burnt-ass tie. He patted at his pants to wipe it of debris, and swung his arms in a wide arc.
“Yeahp, that’ll hold,” Doc sighed, “You haven’t lost your touch, Doc.”
Well, Doc had best leave before the Unmaking fully caught up to him. Dr. McNinja rolled up his sleeves - God, it was hot here. He figured he’d head north, to wherever that safehouse thing was. Doc pulled out his Syntech device, staring at the notifications on it.
“Hey, can I get a ping on the other… Quest Item locations?” Doc spoke into it as he marched north.
Face to Face
#24 Shikiria vs #15 Josuke & #24 Nearl
Shikiria had been heading for safety when she came across the pair. The mage singled out their bags and wondered if they had anything worth adding to her arsenal.
“Get in, get out,” she whispered as she flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulders a few times to loosen them up after the slight chill of night had started to numb the muscles and joints. Leaning down, she gave her injured leg a few gentle shakes to try and make sure it wouldn’t immediately collapse beneath her weight. “Don’t fail,” she muttered Sparks of electricity started to dance down her forearms as she broke into a mad dash.
Nearl rolled over at the sound of footsteps and sat upright just in time to be punched in the side of the head.
Planting on her good leg, the noblewoman hopped over the stunned knight and suddenly found herself staring down the barrel of a bomomb launcher. The device let out a distinct thunk as it propelled one of its limitless explosive cargo pieces at the dumfounded woman. Clapping her hands together, Shikiria summoned a whirlwind that did little but manage to make the cheery-looking Bomomb explode in the air between her and Josuke.
When she landed harshly on her back, Shikiria got quickly to her feet and fled. She’d have to revisit her strategy in the near future.
Nearl has a bruise to her skull/head (Minor injury) and will be disoriented a bit by concussion symptoms (Story Injury)
Josuke has some burns and cuts along his upper body (Minor Injury)
Shikiria has her own burns and scrapes along her hands (Minor Injury)
The canopy of forest above her swirled while Jester clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the throbbing agony happening in her foot. Was like, the whole entire thing shattered!? When she’d tried to put weight on it, there was just…no way. Even as light and petite as she was, Jester couldn’t put an ounce of force onto her once-punctured-now-obliterated foot without a thousand stabs of pain protesting their way through her once functional trotter. That thing was busted.
Light had begun to filter in through the ceiling of leaves above, creating an unnervingly serene atmosphere around the Tiefling.
“Not good,” she mumbled, sprawled out on her back on the forest floor. “This is really, really not good. I can’t even walk…Traveler, if there was ever a time, this is probably it, because I am really, really in a bit of a pickle here.”
In response, she heard a click, and felt a sudden gush of power spring up in her. A warmth trickled out from her gut, snaked its way through her limbs, and all at once her hands began to glow.
At first the Cleric just lay there, stunned, until she realized…it was him! The Traveler! He’d found a way to, like, deactivate her ankle bracelet or something and give her back some power!
A golden light materialized and formed a film around both of her hands, which cast an eerie glow in the early morning dark of the forest.
Jester sat up, concentrated her efforts, and wrapped both of her hands around her shattered foot. At first it was agony, but then a soothing warmth overtook her clodhopper. She winced as she felt bones snapping and cracking, popping back into place, and the healing was almost finished when…
Click.
The ankle bracelet clicked back on, and in an instant the faucet of power sputtered then ran dry. Jester pulled off her boot, which she’d been too afraid to do when her foot had been pulverized, and examined her blue foot.
Back to normal! …almost. She pulled the cloth binding around the center of her foot back for a moment and found that puncture wound she’d had previously was still there. It was an improvement, for sure, but not perfect. At least she’d be able to walk again, though!
“Thank you Traveler,” whispered Jester to her patron deity, coyly. “I knew you could hear me. …and now I know that you are with me, too.”
I am always with you, Jester.
She remembered him saying that to her once, and now she knew that he really meant it.
The Tiefling jammed her tootsies back into her boot and rose to her feet. The puncture wound still bothered her, but compared to the broken foot she’d been stuck with moments ago the hole in her foot was a walk in the park. If the park was like, really bloody, and the only parental supervision present was a woman who looked like a blue devil and a murderous specter. …and some big, weird, tribal looking guy. Oh, and also if the only kid in the park was a goblin.
Jester limped off into the forest, finally able to walk again, and kept her eyes peeled. Her ears, too – her cautions were at a peak after having been in four fights in the last twenty four hours, so when she walked her hand stayed on Caster, ready to draw.
“…I had better get back to Christine, the squish-face, and that weird guy. …I don’t really know how long I was laying there,” Juster murmured to herself below her breath. “…they are probably alright, though. …probably.”
Another night, another empty hunt. Maybe I'm underestimating all of the rabbits that joined the game this year. Real good at finding their bolt holes when the sun goes down.
Then again, here I am again. Shacked up in the Shitz Carlton when the sun goes up.
Needed to take a load off though. Gotta treat your stabs like a pet rabbit. Easy does it. Lots of TLC.
Riddick peeked at the wound, still oozing slightly, and frowned slightly. An angry redness was spreading from the rude incision, and he could feel the heat of infection. He sighed and pulled out his second bottle of water, almost empty, and dabbed it onto some fresh cloth he'd scrounged up from some Markovian's clothing trunk.
Once the unhealthy scabbing had been cleaned away, the merc leaned back onto his cot and prepared to get his shut-eye for the day.
"There's a biiiig wind! A-comin' from the west! Everybody! Run!"
Riddick opened one eye to look at clown shouting in his bunk room.
"Oh my GOD. Vin Diesel, how ya been man? I haven't seen you since Endgame. I mean I know you've been filming since then but I haven't-"
"People need to stop fucking calling me that."
"What do I have to do to get eyes like that?"
"Fuck you."
Deadpool sauntered into the bunk room, walked straight past all the empty cots, and plopped himself and his ten gallon hat down right next to the killer. Riddick vibrated with the desire to snap his neck. Cut his fingers off. Something.
But he couldn't, not here.
"You may wanna scoot over a little bit, I'm a cuddler." Deadpool hummed. Riddick responded by wordlessly standing up, and moving to the opposite side of the room.
"You know-"
"It's been a long night. I'd like some rest, so if you'd kindly shut the fuck up…I think everyone would benefit." Riddick snapped. Deadpool nodded and silently twiddled his thumbs.
For three seconds.
"So you excited to today's flight?" the unhinged merc croaked. Vin Diesel Riddick pinched his nose shook his head.
"Just gonna ride it out. Can you maybe…go do that somewhere else?" he grumbled. Deadpool stood up in a huff, and threw his hands up in the air.
"God DAMN it! I never get a window seat." he barked. But, regardless the man in red dutifully marched out of the bunk room just as the whole structure began to shake.
Riddick breathed lightly for a few moments before easing back into his cot.
So then, time to ride the Markov Express straight into the killing field. If I'm lucky, everyone is ready to press their luck harder than I am. There's no-
"Hey Vinnie, you're not gonna believe who just came sprinting into the door. C'mere, you're gonna lose your mind." Deadpool shouted. Riddick's eyes shot open again as a look of genuine anguish spread across his face.
Wonder if it's too late to try my chances outside…
Aster made a noise somewhere between a snore and a choked sneeze as she sat bolt upright.
This decision was one filled with immediate regret, as the sudden movement set her head to spinning and throbbing again. The wave of pain set her to falter and nearly flop right back down again to seek some relief, but with only a quiet groan she powered through it until the dizziness passed.
“Once was bad enough, but twice…” she grumbled.
“Took a few knocks to the head, hun?” came a voice from nearby.
Aster yelped aloud, immediately springing to her feet and groping for her trident without turning toward it. The only thing she got a hold of was empty air and a profound lack of balance as she stumbled and dropped to one knee, blinking in the haze of light coming from the cave entrance.
“Whoa, whoa, now, take it easy. Ah ain’t gonna pounce on ya or nothin’.” Right. The woman who had come in here last night, now sitting there with her own supplies and with her hands held up in the universal ‘whoa there’ gesture.
“Ugh…” The wolf-girl grimaced. “I have the most spectacular talent for makin’ myself look like a complete chump and an idiot.”
“An’ ya snore like a beast,” the cave’s other occupant added, with a faint smirk.
“I am a beast!” Aster retorted indignantly, finally finding her trident and tugging it closer to prop against her shoulder. “Wolves are dangerous, y’know.”
“Oh, sure, sure. They’re real fearsome and dangerous.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Only a little.”
Aster silently fumed for several moments before something clicked in her noggin. “So why’re you still here, anyway? I was expecting to wake up alone to all my stuff gone or somethin’.”
“Well, ah did say that we could call a truce so we’d have someone else around to watch each other’s backs,” the woman spoke casually, calmly. “Can’t exactly do that if ah go and leave soon as I wake up. Wouldn’t exactly be sportin’.”
“Gee, never expected to run into someone else with a sense of fair play in somethin’ like Dante’s Abyss,” Aster murmured, shaking her head in wonder. “So…thanks, I guess.”
“Don’t mention it, sugah.” With an easy smile, the woman observed the wolf-girl for a moment. “You don’t exactly seem like the type to sign up for somethin’ like this, yourself. What’s got ya here?”
“Being a complete moron, that’s what.” Aster brought her free hand up and (very) gingerly prodded at her nose, the break immediately sending little red-hot needles lancing through her entire snout. “Been watchin’ these death game events and stuff every time they come out. Always been the ‘Oh, yeah, I could do that!’ type. My friends always just laughed it off.” She frowned. “This year I decided to prove ‘em wrong without thinkin’ too far ahead about the consequences.”
Before leaving too much time for that to settle, Aster fixed the other woman with an intent stare. “What about you? Fair play isn’t really a staple of a DA competitor. What’re you here for?”
“Ah got my reasons,” came the swift, immediate response. Then she exhaled, deflating slightly. “Ah… Ah need to see how ah stack up compared to the meanest folks the crossroads got, and this is a good place to find some of ‘em.”
“Just testin’ your own skills, then?” Aster shrugged. “Hey, good a reason as any other. Least you’re not out here like ‘ARGH MURDER DEATH BLOOD’ and stuff, like some of the real crazy ones.” She snorted lightly in amusement, shaking her head. “.....Aster, by the way. Thanks for watchin’ my back.”
“Rogue.” She smirked. “Don’t mention it, sugah.”
For a while, a somewhat awkward silence settled over the pair, during which they tended to the business of ‘getting ready to vacate the truce cave’. According to Karl’s most recent announcement, they would need to amscray with the quickness, with the sudden surge of unmaking activity.
“So…” Aster eventually spoke up. “This whole event was billed as bein’ a little more cooperative than the past ones have been.”
“It sure was,” Rogue agreed.
“And from the looks of it, we’re both kinda wandering around on our own out here,” Aster went on.
“Looks that way, alright.”
“So….wanna fix that?” Aster looked directly at the southern belle, her head lightly tilted to one side. “Mutual benefit and all that. Already got the trust of surviving a night without any sudden ambushes from each other and whatnot.”
“Tryin’ to ask if ah wanna partner up?” Rogue mused. “There’s ways to do that with a lot less words, hun.” She leaned back, as if pondering over the idea. “But ah guess it isn’t such a bad idea. We can keep watchin’ each others’ backs for a while.”
“Cool, cool.” Aster’s ear twitched, as she grinned.
He rested, legs stretched out in front of him, arms propped up by their elbows.
“Eh, Screamsicle,” he flashed a wink to his birch buddy. “I told you things just needed a little livening up!”
All around them, strange, poorly-assembled homunculi were gathered. Dozens, at least. Maybe hundreds. All of them just vaguely passable enough to appear all the more deranged. Their proportions, expressions, and so on.
All seemed… disquieting, yet comical, though it was hard to put one’s finger on why.
Kefka had clearly spent a lot of time on his vulgar village. And it was wonderful.
“You know, Screamsicle, I do prefer you this way. Much quieter,” he closed his eyes and let himself lie all the way back, sliding his hands beneath his head. “All of you, here. You want for nothing, you yearn for nothing. You don’t presume, you don’t hope. You don’t love.”
He said the words ‘hope’ and ‘love’ with such revulsion, so surfeit was his disgust he nearly retched as he fought his mouth around the words. He opened his eyes, face already screwed into an angry frown.
“What?”
He glanced in Screamsicle’s general direction.
“My plan? You’re asking me if I have a plan?”
Kefka pushed himself up into a sitting position and glared at the wooden dummy.
“Are you completely stupid??”
He seethed through clenched teeth, contemplating the log’s reply.
“Do you know what plans do? Do you know what strategies do? They fall apart,” Kefka hissed. “They fall apart because people like me were created to make sure they fall apart, so that their plans could go ahead instead.
You know what happened then, don’t you?”
With a deep stretch, Kefka climbed to his feet. “That’s right. Everybody.”
“Oh, you disagree,” Kefka leapt to his feet, his wrath now focused on one particularly lop-sided log-person. He spoke with the tone of a sarcastic child, ‘stupid voice’ and all. “Yes. Leo did like to say that. But guess what? He’s dead. So much for his plans.”
His eyes flashed with fury. “Oh, is that so? Here’s a plan for you, then.”
He raised a hand and, in a flash, about a fourth of the village population – and some of the forest behind them – were now on fire.
“See?” he hissed, spraying fire at more of his cedar citizens. Soon, roaring flames towered in all directions. Only he, and Screamstickle, perched on his shoulder, still lived.
“Try not to catch fire,” Kefka muttered, before charging at a narrow gap in the blaze. “We still have so much to explore, you and I.”
The trio’s landing was rough, Kolith’s half-blind eyes and exhausted body unable to offer more than a cursory attempt at control. Unmade dirt, leaves, and other detritus went airborne as they tumbled haphazardly across the twisted ground. Light as he was, Slurt somersaulted further than his companions, each hard contact with the ground sending jolts of suffering through his small frame, until he finally landed, hard and bruisingly, with his back against the rough bark of an infected tree. Dazed and pain-shocked, the boy stared blankly forward, head lolling slowly and almost unnaturally as his mind tried to process what had happened to him.
Struggling frantically to her feet, Christine’s dark eyes darted across the area in the closest thing Slurt had ever seen to panic, though they softened quickly upon spotting him. Her breath came in short, harsh gasps, and her arm… there was something wrong with it. It was hanging so low… too low to be natural. His poor, dear black-haired protector… she was hurt. So… so hurt… And yet still… she seemed so strong to him. A goddess that would see him safe from harm, no matter what.
But… he wasn’t safe from harm. Those… devils had come upon them all, and no one had left the scene unscathed. Sharp-ended bone jutted from Slurt’s calf, alabaster streaked with dark red mud, and the end oozing an almost black blood. Broken, jagged teeth dug sharply into his cheeks and tongue, and his jaw was a burning pit of torment, the left almost hanging free, while the right was certainly dislocated and stretching the skin with how offset it was. But… as his eyes locked onto her’s, never once did so much as an inkling of doubt or blame enter his mind.
His goddess approached, seemingly ignorant, or at least uncaring, of her own injuries. Kneeling beside Slurt, she cast her gaze across his form, intelligent and compassionate eyes taking measure of each of his wounds. Her mouth tightened to a line, a silent promise that the man who had done this would pay for each drop of blood ten… no a hundred-fold, but when she spoke, it was with a soft cadence that stood in sharp contrast to her hoarse, struggling voice.
“Mon petite prince… Oh… Je suis désolé… I’m so sorry. Just look what that foul beast has done to you…”
A thick crimson sludge trickled ominously from his open mouth, a mixture of blood, tooth fragments, half-formed scabs, and destroyed lung tissue that was horrifyingly nauseating to behold. But it wasn’t the noxious fluid that stayed his tongue, but rather the mind-shattering pain that accompanied his attempted speech, so that all that he could manage was a low, crackling groan of agony.
Behind Christine, the goblin lad spotted his… their savior. Slurt hadn’t known the man more than a few hours, yet he still felt unimaginable gratitude towards him. He had saved them. He had fought for them, even though he could have run and escaped on his own. He… he had been far more useful than Slurt had been.
A deeper, more excruciating pain than anything his body was feeling settled into his heart as the realization hit the boy. This… this was all his fault. Those villains… no, those monsters had come there for him. They had followed the beacon of the DragonBall to its source and Christine… she had paid the price for it. So had the bearded man, but Slurt just couldn’t make himself care about that. His little heart didn’t have room for any further despair, and the sight of Christine’s wounds… of her faltering smile of comfort… it was already too much to bear.
A thought filled his mind, nearly powerful enough to drown out his pain. He… he needed to leave. He had to go, so that the people he loved would stop being hurt for him. So they wouldn’t have to die for him. He remembered how Jester too had been hurt protecting him. And now, Christine… and even this man… they’d both nearly died because he… because he was too weak. Too cowardly. And because he drew danger to them all, like flies to a midden. He knew he couldn’t go now. Not with his leg like this. They’d catch him, bring him back, bundle him up and promise him it would be alright. Comfort and soothe him in an effort to change his mind. No… he couldn’t leave yet. But he would. And soon.
The thief had managed to duck behind a rock along with Fennec as the shots rang out. Due to the late activation of the item, Gascione and Sigmund had already left, leaving just the two of them to fight. Demetri raised a brow at the sudden display and turned to look at Fennec, who shrugged in response.
“It was your statue, don’t look at me.”
“I did not think that it would literally come back with a vengeance.” He mumbled. "I should be able to handle it."
Fennec gave him an incredulous look.
“Sorry about the catap-catac-cato, bad luck, but I am actually going to be the one to win this time. Like last time. Well, the time before last time, but a different time. But better!” The legend seemed to be even more full of himself than usual.
Demetri grabbed a nearby stone and threw it over, leading to another shot in the air.
“You didn’t get me, I just wanted to see if I could hit it. I did, because you know, I’m the best.”
Demetri peeked over the sheltering rock, only for another two shots to chip away at it, forcing him back behind it. He glanced around and saw an opportunity for an opening.
From the flat battleground on the lip of the volcano, Mirage seemed to pull some bullets out and reload.
“You know, reloading in the middle of a fight is kinda exerc-exha, it’s fun!”
Demetri took his chance to dash to the side and rush up to the legend, delivering a swift blow to-
Bamboozled!
The thief’s eyes widened, deceived by his very own game.
“BLAM-boozled, haha!” Three shots pierced the back of Demetri, causing him to fall forward on the ground.
Then dissipate into nothing.
“Wait,” Mirage began, before suddenly being struck on his cheek by the thief.
“Bamboozle, is it not?”
The legend rubbed his jaw and scowled. “Hey, that’s MY line. And watch the face!” He raised the revolver and fired a few rounds, narrowly missing Demetri as he oddly cartwheeled to the side. Fennec watched from behind the rock, unsure of what was exactly happening.
“Need some help?” She called out from behind the rock.
“Ah, no need, just warming up!” Came the snarky reply.
“Yeah, he’s gonna be dead soon, so don’t bother.” Mirage narrowed his eyes and split into multiple decoys, reloading as the six of them moved to surround the thief.
“Have you ever tried Mirage roulette?”
Demetri glanced between them all and smirked, pulling his cards out from his sleeves.
“I am a bit of a gambling man, how did you know?” He seemed to throw an extraordinarily large amount of cards to the air, letting them fall all around before they disappeared. One mirage seemed to shift a bit, getting a bit impatient and holding his revolver with two hands. The Mirage party didn’t seem to be amused as they all watched the thief pull out a single card from his pocket, though the validity of anything happening could hardly be confirmed.
“The Fool.”
“Speak for yourself, loser.”
The mirage squad shot unanimously at the obvious illusion, and looked around for the real Demetri. Seconds passed as they realized that there was not another, even Fennec seemed to be at a loss. The decoys began to break up to search, looking around to see if he would pop from the shadows.
“Behind you!”
Mirage turned and shot behind him, almost instinctively, accidentally popping off one of his decoys. One decoy ducked and raised his hands.
“Woah, don’t get trigger happy, me!”
Mirage clutched the revolver tighter, his knuckles white as he scanned around him, trying to find out where he had spoken from.
One of his decoys approached him, then suddenly sucker punched him in the face. Mirage clutched his now bleeding nose and angrily shouted at the now revealed Demetri. The thief darted forward to tackle the man, shoving him to the floor as the revolver fell to the side of them.
Demetri got a few hammered punches in before Mirage managed to kick out and roll him over, knocking him back with another kick to his already sore shoulder. The thief grunted in pain, before looking over at the revolver. He pushed himself forward, attempting to reach the weapon before Mirage landed on his back, smashing him into the floor.
“Yeah, how’s that for some revenge?”
Demetri threw an elbow back and landed it square in the Legend’s chest, knocking him over and allowing himself to crawl further to the gun. Fennec began to step closer as well, and just as Demetri grabbed the handle, the trickster's foot slammed down on his fingers, causing it to fire and bounce out of his hands.
“I’m just gonna let you two do your thing!” Fennec called out as she got back behind cover.
The thief rolled over and gave a kick of his own to Mirage’s shin, forcing a yelp out of him as they lashed at each other again, tumbling back towards the gun. Their hands fumbled, attempting to gain the advantage and take the weapon.
They managed to grapple each other to the point of reaching a standing position once more, with Mirage holding the gun and firing off two more times by Demetri’s ear. The deafening sound rang in his ears, before he managed to wrestle around and grab at the revolver.
When the two men stood, they both held a revolver to the other. Demetri’s offhand held in the air, plucking at the illusory strings of at least one of them.
“I’m not stupid. I know yours is fake.”
“Is it? Seems we both have trouble telling the truth. How about we both pull the trigger and see who drops first? Let’s give Karl Jak a good show~”
The three badly beaten contestants rested in a thick copse of trees, their forms hidden in their deep shadows. The Unmade blight ravaged the landscape, twisting the once overgrown and healthy jungles into a hideous corrupted nightmare. Kolith had little experience directly with the Unmade – only Gallo – and wasn’t aware that it could also infect the trees and earth as well. It pained him on a spiritual level to even sit among the perversion of nature.
Kolith had torn what remained of his cloth tunic into ribbons and bound the dull blue strips around his torso, trying to staunch the bleeding from the whip strike. He tightened them well, yet blood still stained the makeshift bandages. Slower, at least, but it did not cease. The whip must have slashed deeply into his flesh. He would have to take it much slower now.
He had noted the blindness in his left eye, an extra insult to the injury over his chest. Thankfully vision through his right eye remained uncompromised. There was nothing he could do to remedy that, other than hope that the Elder Spirits could mend it after the competition concluded.
Speaking of, he somehow channelled all three of them during the battle, something he thought was impossible. The Elder Spirits had never demonstrated this before, nor hinted that he could do it. Was it solely desperation that pressed Kolith into breaking the boundaries of his abilities? Without it, he wasn’t sure the three of them would still be alive and breathing.
Regardless, he wouldn’t be doing that again. His body was too tattered to withstand the sheer might that three Elder Spirits brought to the fore within him.
Kolith sighed deeply. How he wished he could speak to them right now. The competition had not gone to plan in the slightest. He hadn’t taken anyone’s life so far, and in fact had teamed up with one of the first people he encountered. It turned out to be a good move however, considering the number of fights he had already been in by day 2. But at least in the last fight, he had no qualms, no hesitations, about attacking to kill. He struck that middle-aged, portly man hard, certain that he had left a lasting injury at least to his hand.
Maybe things were going better than he thought. Kolith laughed, despite himself, and immediately winced at the pain in his chest.
Christine, ignoring the wounds she suffered, abandoned concern for herself and raced to the small, broken goblin. The poor creature looked hopelessly shattered. How had one so frail entered a death tournament?
Was there a point in letting the little one live? Kolith didn’t feel any anger or resentment towards the goblin. If Kolith happened upon a wounded deer or boar in the forest, as fiercely injured as the goblin was, he saw it as a mercy to end its suffering.
Yet Christine’s uncharacteristic selflessness for the creature would no doubt prevent the suggestion from even being considered. Kolith stifled the idea. They didn’t need any bickering in their team. Their survival required cohesion.
The Elder Spirit Vessel climbed to his feet, placing a hand on the bark of the corrupted tree to steady his rise.
I see you, Kolith.
Kolith immediately stood to attention. A voice spoke to him, but from where? He stilled his breath, focusing on his hearing.
You are an interesting one, aren’t you?
No, not a voice. Not an audible one, at least.
Kolith stared at Christine and Slurt. They hadn’t paid much attention to him in the aftermath of the escape, but they would hear him if he started talking to himself.
In an abrupt flash of bluish-white light, an enormous wedge-tailed eagle formed nearby, its form translucent and otherworldly.
“Off the Unmade corruption, right now!” Rokku said.
Kolith removed his hand from the tree and hastened off the soil and grass that bore its mark, finding a small patch of untouched dirt.
Kolith couldn’t hold his tongue. “Rokku? Why are you here? I was told there would be no advice given by the-”
“This isn’t advice for the tournament, Vessel,” Rokku said. “It’s a warning. Do not touch anything corrupted by the Unmade, unless you are actively destroying it.”
“But-“
Rokku’s ghostly form dissolved before his eyes.
“Did you say something?” Christine said, looking over her shoulder, still fussing over the goblin.
“Care for the goblin,” Kolith said, sitting on the dirt patch, a wave of exhaustion crashing upon him. “I need... time.”
"Okay! Fuck!" Shikiria thought to herself as she struggled to look for a stream to cool her now aching hands off in. She'd managed to get one good strike in, but their supplies remained far from reach, and her eyes were starting to get real tired...
She shook her head forcefully, finding her bag, and pulling out a bottle of water, before drinking just around half, and screwing the cap back on. She needed to conserve supplies, food, rations, and water, as long as possible. A horrid sting erupted from her hands as the adrenaline began to wear off. At the rate she was going she was just going to continue accumulating damage, and keep wearing herself out until she was a sitting duck, waiting for someone to finish her off..
A slow fire began to burn brightly within her. She couldn't allow that. Not being who she was. She needed to hope, and quit with the self pitying bullshit.
One bad turn after another? Good, keep'em coming. She was ready. She'd trained day after day, night after night, and now? It wasn't going to waste. She'd make it through this, she'd force herself to. Even if at some point her spirit failed, her body would push on. She was going to find Izaneus, and sure, her recent turns to talk her way out of a situation hadn't panned out. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that she kept going. Kept pushing herself to improve, and adapt throughout this entire "game."
She'd find Izaneus, and she'd leave a wake of asses kicked of the fools who got in her path behind her, and afterward, she might hug him or punch him, honestly, she didn't know which to choose at this point, dick shouldn't have made himself so goddamn hard to find.
Hell! If she won this thing, she'd have something to gloat about! Now wouldn't that be something? A chance to gloat at Izaneus? Now she had a couple of reasons to keep going.
If the chance came where she'd be able to steal some supplies, she'd take it, as long as it was able. She'd need to scope these things out from now on however. Keep an eye on who, and how many it was she was taking from.
Suddenly, she couldn't stop herself from jumping from the excitement she built within herself. Of course she'd try to be nice to anyone who crossed her. But it was a good assumption to think everyone as it stands was trying to kill her. Which only hurt her feelings a little, but if they did? She'd just throw them to Arkadia and back.
Show them she was a force to be reckoned with.
and at the end of the day? She'd at least show to the world how good she was.
She sighed with relief. as though a huge weight had been lifted from her. Emotional and mental clarity overwhelmed her a moment, before she smirked.
Now all she had to do was treat her ever growing list of wounds.
"Wouldn't it be a great idea to get a little break from a lot of walking? You got a nasty bruise on your head, and you've been stumbling a couple of times, making me think your about to fall." Josuke mentions to his new companion, trying to make her stop in their tracks, but she doesn't acknowledge his advice.
The noble equine knight presses forward while he trails behind her long-haired tail, becoming slightly annoyed that she is ignoring his helpfulness. With a tablet and compass coming from her survival bag, she remains focused on being held in her delicate gloved hands that help traverse the unmade no man's land, rotting corpses scattered throughout the land. Vultures soar above them during the brightened morning hours, eyeing all the dead buffet offered. A foul stench pollutes the air that the deceased produces, unwelcoming anyone's nostrils. Josuke covers his nose in disgust, but Margaret's tolerance helps her not to be distracted by the unpleasantness surrounding them.
Silence lingers between the two until he speaks up again in another attempt to grab her tension. Running ahead quickly to get in front of the righteous knight, he feels a series of stinging sensations across his upper torso from the cuts and burns that appeared after the little fight they had. While walking backward to face Margaret, Josuke continues to talk her into taking a good breather after the action they experienced. "Seriously, Margaret, you're worrying me just how you're moving after that bad hit you received."
"You must stop worrying for my own sake. The weak and the desperate in this land require a protector to come forward and bring peace that will end this game. Now, pick up your pace, so we don't bring unnecessary attention." Margaret appears headstrong still, resisting the weakness that dwells inside her that the concussion amplifies.
Her horse-like ears don't have the best current hearing right now because they are constantly ringing after her head received a brutal hit.
"Well, can we at least stop for me to change out my clothes? I can't just walk around looking like this while having useful tops waiting to be worn so I can look good for the cameras." Josuke begs for a couple of minutes to relax and change after they have been trekking for hours.
The bombomb explosion damaged his current exposed clothing after Josuke dealt when their opponent tried to reflect it. Margaret couldn't help but feel a little empathy for her new young ally, which he's proven useful to stick alongside within this hostile stranded territory. "Fine, but no more stops after this. We cannot afford to lose any more time."
He loosens his duffle bag from his back and sets it down on the ground calmly. The zipper slides across the zipped fabric to open it, seeing what Josuke will choose for today's fashion. He found a nice elegant purple button-up coat that fits the mood he's currently feeling. To take his first layer of pants off, the fashionable taste pompadour boy takes his shoes to make it easier to remove pants. Meanwhile, when he's changing, Margaret turns away to give Josuke his privacy, but the teenager isn't planning to strip down since he's got multiple layers of pants to wear.
Luckily to match his new coat, Josuke removes his semi-burnt blue jeans, revealing matching purple pants. To finish off his fresh attire, He puts on a yellow t-shirt to become covered by his rich coat. It buttons up completely that hides his shirt entirely. Before gathering his duffle bag, the stylish pompadour stand user pulls out his comb to fix his hair, which is starting to show a messy appearance. After getting everything together, he lets his new compatriot know he's finished dressing.
"Tada! Now, I feel much fresher than before!" Josuke happily mentions while showing off his clean attire to the equine knight.
She didn't deny that him showing his new clothes did give her a little amusement, but Margaret didn't let that distract her even more from essential matters. Before she could say a word, Josuke moves ahead of her and mentions him leading instead. "Since you've been leading for a while, how about I lead us to give you a little relief. I can protect well with my trusty grenade launcher and stand power I possess."
The kind stand user looks back at her while propping the grenade launcher on his shoulder with his arm in a chill way, waiting for a response with a brow raised.
"No need to fear for my safety. I will protect you just fine, even if obstacles stand in our way. You don't need to be concerned about my head injury. I've experienced more worst." The brave blonde knight mentions, trying to show she's capable for them.
"Fine, but this doesn't mean I won't stop sticking my neck out for your life." Josuke courageously speaks, willing to become a good, trustworthy friend for her.
The whirring sound of the light saber serenaded the assassin of shadows as his eyes marvelled upon the weapon's unique blade. His fresh wound seemed almost non existent as he waved his newfound sword, playing with it like a child given his favorite toy.
He then took a glimpse at the proton buster that lay on the ground beside him. He could simply wield it on his left arm while handling the saber with his dominant hand. Dual wielding however, wasn't a skill he'd be confident with. Or at least swinging a sword with only one hand wouldn't bring out the best of his swordsmanship. A thought however, started to form in his mind.
"Perhaps, I can trade it with her," he mused, his mind pondering upon the original owner of the glowing sword. The lady and her crew weren't at their best but Trevor knew just how powerful vengeance could make anyone.
An encounter with both the madman and the succubus proved that he couldn't survive the game alone. Teamwork wasn't his best trait, but he knew that at one point, he'd be needing some allies for himself.
"If only that soldier was here," he thought as memories of his quest with Connor momentarily flashed in his mind. "But I guess they'd do, for now," he continued before turning off the light saber and slipping his left hand into the proton buster's arm opening.
He pulled a bottle of water from his bag, then took a few sips before disappearing once again into the shadows.
"HOW GRE-AT
IS OUR GOD!
SING WITH ME-E,
HOW GREAT IS OUR GOD, ALL WILL SEE-E!"
All through the warped landscape rang the glorious sound of worship this evening. High above, a storm was building pressure and cloud mass. Nastier storm than most. Angrier. It was nothing though, compared to the devotion of these two sinners here. Gathered 'round the campfire was Nico Cinder and Deadpool Morgan, singing and playing their hearts out in the name of the lord and all that is holy.
"HOW GREAT...how GR-EAT! IS OUR GOD!"
Nico strummed with a vigor and Deadpool banged on his djembe to match the crescendo. It was a beautiful dance of musicianship and prayer, likely unseen in these unholy lands for quite some time. As their dextrous hands flutter to a stop, they both whoop and holler, raising their instruments in joyous victory. Silence came shortly after, as it always does. Nico inspected the embers with a moderate interest.
"Good thing you had your djembe and a spare guitar on you, dude," Nico said with a sigh. He rested his cheek comfortably on the ancient instrument against his knees. Truth be told, he was feeling a little lost without the Red Chord. Karl must've made some adjustments to his collars, as the rockstar had not been able to pull the accursed chords into the game world this year. Without music, time had been reduced to an agonizing crawl.
"A true cowboy always stays prepared for the trail," The red cowboy said with his consumption voice. He hacked and coughed a bit, before adding in a decidedly healthier voice, "Man, I love me some Chris Tomlin. Welp," he said, rising to a stand with a heave. "Short rest. Bout time we hit that old dusty trail. Storm's a commin'."
Nico nodded. It was lucky, running into this guy again out here. Mostly because he didn't try to kill him. After a relatively quiet journey to the item drop, Nico wasn't halfway back to the bunker by the time the announcement came, and it scared the shit out of him. At first he wasn't sure he'd make it back to safety in time before his head popped, or worse. Fate had other plans, as the cowboy appeared around a corner not long after, and was all too happy to show him a shortcut. This shortcut was so good in fact, that they had time to set up a campfire and rest. Nico was too desperate to question any of this. Guy was right though, the time for rest was over. The two started to leave, abandoning their instruments by the fire.
It went zero to a hundred faster than Nico could blink. One second, they were calmly jogging to the bunker, their safe haven in sight. The next, hell broke loose and killed the neighbor's cat. The scrap and trees around Nico seemed to be unwinding, melting upwards, twisting outwards. A geyser of fire at least as tall as two Nicos poked its hot head out of the ruined earth, and the screech of sundered metal was carried far on the roaring winds. Over the sounds of a world being Unmade, Nico could hear a voice cry out in pain. He hadn't stopped running since he figured out he had to, but he knew damn well who the voice belonged to, so he turned around anyways.
Through the whirlwind, Deadpool lay clutching his ankle. Somehow, his fancy hat magically stayed on his head despite the furious wind. Nico squinted. Was that thing hand sewn in?
"What'd you say?" Nico shouted.
"G-Go on with out me! Save yourself!" came a strained reply from the downed cowboy. "I'm a goner!"
"What?" Nico shouted.
"GET INSIDE, DUMBASS!"
He heard that one better for some reason. Nico turned back around,` crossed the distance to the bunker entrance best he could lugging around that giant box of rockets, but before he could get to the door handle, the door flung open. A pair of red gloves grabbed him by the scruff of his hoodie and yanked him inside to relative safety.
"-C'mere, you're gonna lose your mind," finished Deadpool, still carrying Nico by his scruff.
"Ta-da!" he said, presenting Nico by his scruff, rockets and rations and all. "It's my drug dealer!"
Riddick pretended to be asleep. To the best of his ability. Which was pretty good, save for the whites of his knuckles.
"Feh. Ol' Vinnie just ain't the same anymore. Not since..." He looked Nico dead in the eyes. "the accident."
Nico blinked, still trying and failing to process the last fifteen minutes. Deadpool got the feeling the kid wasn't the only one. Nico made his way to a bunk and collapsed, cowboy following close behind.
"What about you?" he asked. "You a cuddler?"
Nico nodded. Deadpool slid into bed next to him and got cozy, flinging a blanket over the two of them. Nico was little spoon.
"Rough day, huh bud?"
Nico nodded. Silence in the room, probably for the first time since it became occupied by it's current occupants.
"Well, don't you worry. Tomorrow is another one. Hey, what do you want for breakfast, huh? You like eggs? I'm thinkin' eggs."
Nico's eyes shot open. He turned around slowly, eyes already staring into the white voids of his new cuddle buddy's mask.
“Look! Someone brought Sans Undertale to the party!”
“...Greetings? My Name is Chara, what do you know about king-”
“Sans undertale, yeah! digging the midriff damage, by the way! Did you get that on purpose? Gasp! Oh, did you give someone a bad time?!”
Chara looked down to her clothes with a groan as she realized the clown was right. Lilith was going to be inconvincible to the contrary, from ‘her pet’.
Chara gave an amiable smile to the… rodeo clown. “Listen, dude, I can tell you’re trying to be funny, but… have you considered trying a little harder? Or just a little less. I can go either way.”
“Oh honey, you made that pretty clear at the pre-show!”
Chara just gave a snort to that, looking up to Riddick. “I am not getting anything useful by continuing this conversation, am I?”
“I’m getting a fucking headache out of it.” the Mercenary snapped, and Chara kept striding in, wisely avoiding the storm outside.
“So, I gather you are using this as a base of operations.?” Chara would ask. “...I suppose I can see the logic. Stay near the safezone, since it’s a nexus of activity, then charge out when you see a mark leave. Right?”
“Thought you were interested in finishing this peacefully.”
“Doesn’t make me blind to how other people would play.” Chara added, taking a seat at the table opposite Riddick. “Wanna talk?”
“Why?”
“Because it gives you a reason to talk to someone other than Texas Red.” Chara would add with a motion over to Deadpool.
The Merc with a mouth placed a hand on his mouth. “Am I getting dumped already? But I haven’t got to go on a DA Date with Chara, yet!”
“You’re a bit old-lookin’ for me.” Chara would quip back with a smirk.
“...You’ve got a murderomance going with primordial ooze!”
“Well… she doesn’t look her age.”
“Jeez, These Zoomers are savage! Fine, I’ll just go watch the goonies by myself!”
Chara blinked, as Deadpool walked away, allowing a grasping hand to fall by her side. “...I’d love to go watch goonies, actually.” the Dreemurr groaned, before collapsing to one knee. To her surprise, Riddick was by her side when she fell to one knee. “Took some hits, marshmallow?”
“And accomplished nothing.” Chara agreed, “lotsa burns… ‘least I’m used to those, but someone took all my gear. Got no water to ease it.” She admitted.
“So, giving up?”
Chara shook her head. “I went out half-cocked, not sure of my goals, looking to make friends.”
“You done with that?”
“Not exactly, but…” Chara glanced to herself and back to Riddick. “Making friends is… not my role, exactly. Never really was. If I want to make a difference I’d like to make here, it’s not going to happen if I don’t play to my strengths.”
A dark look flashed from Chara as she looked up to Riddick. “Which means, I would think we have a couple business opportunities to discuss.”
Riddick just flashed a savage smile. “You think you can keep up?”
Chara just leaned forward with a similar grin. “Can you?”
Face to Face
#02 Trevor O’Skully vs #08 Aster & #21 Rogue
The shadow assassin seemed to be looking for someone. At least, that’s what Karl Jak assumed, given the man lingering in the same region for an extended prior of time.
Since he ran straight into Rogue and her most recent traveling companion, the event’s host continued to make the assumption that the man had yet to find who he was looking for…
“Ah see ya,” a voice whispered from behind Trevor, who had kept to the shadows of the unmade forest as best he could during the midday hours. From the shade of the forest, he saw a woman casually leaned against a sticky, ichorous tree. Although she’d long-since lost ‘the shine’, Rogue had managed to get something of a drop on the man, who tentatively started to back himself away from the wild-eyed, grinning lady.
“Don’t ya be runnin’,” Rogue shouted playfully as she pointed behind the shadow assassin.
Trevor paused and turned to see Aster positioned to cut off his escape. Had be this foolish? Had the loss of blood from the succubus’ infernal weapon impacted his senses as well? The assassin’s entire body tensed as he shifted away from what seemed to be a teenage werewolf-person with a pitchfork. The grinning lady with the boisterous demeanor and distinct drawl was the threat. Perhaps not as high a threat as the blood-spouting she-devil, but he’d need to get either around her or through her to escape this situation.
Trevor O’Skully was never one to play with half a deck of cards.
Slinging the Proto Buster up out from his bag, the shadow assassin light up the forest with a whoosh of plasma. Her expression souring almost instantly, Rogue dipped and pushed away as the tree behind her exploded apart into wet bits of fleshy wood and who-knows-what. The southern brawler hit the ground and rolled as her companion moved in on the armed assassin.
Trident at the ready, Aster sprung, but her adversary seemed to almost glide out of the way of her thrust. There was a flash of red energy as the lightsaber nearly cleaved off the wolf girl’s head. A kick to the chest sent her backward as Trevor turned and fired once more at Rogue, who dove forward. Hitting the ground again, the woman scooped up the trident and buried its business end into Trevor’s gut.
Spitting up some blood, the assassin fired again sheerly out of anger and instinct. He heard Rogue scream out, but his priorities had shifted immediately as he freed himself from the weapon’s teeth and stumbled back.
Wheezing as she clenched a scalded, mangled shoulder, Rogue watched their adversary escape. “No one here likes to give up, do they, sugah?”
No answer came from Aster, who was lying facedown on the ground.
Rogue has a dislocated shoulder and some burns (Minor Injury)
Trevor has a stab wound right in his belly (Major Injury, replaces previous Minor Injury for tracking purposes)
Aster has lost an ear and has some serious burns on the side of her face (uncurable Major Injury)
My best advice? You should get to the green part of the map in the next twelve hours. You can rest in the safehouse if you don’t think you’ll make it*. If you plan to leave the safehouse and venture into the wilderness … good luck**.”
***
*- Starting with Day 3, the safehouse will be at location O4.
** - Call it adrenaline. Anyone moving on Unmade tiles during Phase 3 and Phase 4 of Day 2 will receive +1 movement. If you’re still on a red tile at the start of Day 3 … you’ll be unmade and I’ll make a sad face at you.
The remainder of the red region of the map will be completely unmade by the end of Day 2.
Current Safehouse Population: Nico, Deadpool, Riddick, Lilith, Caustic, Slurt, Jester, Kolith, Christine, Dr. McNinja
Some updated drop and item locations will be provided later in this phase.
